“Indians!” Junior dashed up, hat in hand, face red from running. “Uncle Zeke said they’re Pawnee.” He squatted next to the fire and focused his gaze on Delly. “This is Sioux territory, but they’re Pawnee passing through. I’ve been wondering if we’d see any Indians other than the ones that operate the ferry.”
Alice dropped the sock she was darning in the mud.
Sadie leaped to her feet and clasped her hands to her bosom. “They won’t be coming over here, will they?”
“Nah. Uncle Zeke said they was peaceful. As long as we leave them alone, they’ll pass us by. He said Indians hardly ever attack white folk anymore.” He pointed. “But I shore do wish they’d stop. I’ve a hankering to meet one.”
They could move quickly away for all Delly cared. She shaded her eyes and peered across the prairie.
More than fifteen mounted braves rode by at a slow trot. With bare chests and heads covered with feather headdresses, they made a formidable sight. Fringed buckskin covered their legs. They raised lances thick with fringe. Despite their impressive demeanor and lack of violence, Delly breathed a sigh of relief when they rode out of sight and her heart rate returned to normal.
“I hope that’s all the interaction we have with savages,” Alice said, rising to her feet. “I’ve enough to worry about. Especially now that I’m getting close to my time.” She placed a hand on her growing stomach. “I’d best get to my own fire. Don’t want an Injun snatching one of my children. Besides, those little ones of mine are always hungry, not to mention Ben, and I’m the only one knows how to start a fire, seems like.”
Delly watched her go. “Should we be worried, Sadie?”
“About what?”
“The Indians. Alice. She does seem to be having a hard time getting around and she’s got at least three months before that baby’s due.”
“Don’t know. The trail could be a mite hard for a woman so close to her time.” Sadie used her skirt to protect her hands from the hot coffee pot. “But, we’ll think positive and pray hard. God’s got it in control.”
Delly hoped so. She glanced to where Alice leaned against her wagon.
On a small hill in the distance, Zeke sat on his horse, rifle crooked in his elbow. The tension from the Indian sighting drained away. She had nothing to worry about with Zeke on guard.
###
The next day they stopped beside a creek to stock up on fresh water. Plenty of dry wood laid around the banks, and Delly piled some in the back of the wagon. After depositing her last armload, she climbed down, turned, and smashed her face into a darkly tanned, naked chest gleaming with sweat.
Her gaze rose to the painted face of an Indian. Her cheeks burned. Seeing the shirtless men from a distance was definitely different than close up. She couldn’t remember ever having seen her father without a shirt. Ezra and Junior, yes, but her son was still more boy than man, regardless of what he perceived himself to be.
A musky odor rose from the Indian and stung her eyes. It took all her willpower not to bury her nose in the crook of her elbow.
The children! Delly’s heart plummeted to her stomach. She’d read of Indians kidnapping white children. She whipped her head to locate them. They played beside the Johnsons’ wagon, drawing pictures in the dirt. There was no sign of Zeke or his men. Women washed laundry and baked bread. Where was Sadie? Delly closed her eyes, breathed a prayer of safety for them all, and turned back to the brave. She’d have to handle this herself.
He watched her without expression; his eyes as dark and deep as a cave. Despite her resolve to be brave, Delly shivered and swallowed against the lump in her throat. She slid her hands into her skirt pocket where she’d stashed a small knife after seeing the Indians the day before. The smooth blade gave her strength, and she wrapped her fist around the handle.
The brave yanked Delly’s sunbonnet from her head and tossed it to the ground. He yanked the pins from her hair letting it tumble to her waist. She whipped the knife from her pocket, and stepped back until she pressed against the wagon.
“Don’t come any closer! I’ll cut you.” She brandished the small knife in front of her.
The Indian’s eyes hardened for a second then he laughed, throwing his head back in abandonment. With a grin still on his face, he grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her closer until their bodies touched. He said words she didn’t understand, but with the way his eyes had roamed her body earlier, the meaning was clear. Her face burned with mortification. Would he ravage her here or drag her into the bushes?
Delly pulled free with enough force to tug at the roots of her hair and bring tears to her eyes. Would he scalp her without a weapon? Did he know how to do that? She lunged toward him, knife raised. He grabbed her wrist in an iron fist, spun her around, and bent her arm back. Pain shot through her shoulder.
Tears sprang to her eyes. She stomped her foot as hard as possible on top of his. He grunted but didn’t loosen his grip.
“Let go of me, you savage!” She kicked backward until he wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her off the ground, pinning her arms to her side and leaving her legs flailing.
“I see you’ve met Red Feather.” Zeke said something in the Indian’s language and clapped him on the shoulder. Red Feather released her and crossed his arms. “He’s harmless enough. Says he’s protecting himself from you. You can put the knife away. He won’t hurt you.”
“Easy for you to say. He already did. Almost pulled my hair out of my head.” She held a hand to her aching scalp and stepped behind Zeke, taking comfort in the breadth of his shoulders. “What does he want? Aren’t you going to do anything about him attacking me?”
Zeke spoke a few more words then turned back to Delly. “He wants some of your hair. Said it shines like the brightest star and cascades in a rippling waterfall.” Zeke grinned. “I have to agree with him.”
“My hair?” She clapped her hands to her head as if doing so would hold it in place.
“And he’d like to make you his squaw. Said he likes women with a spirit of fire.”
Delly opened her mouth, then snapped it closed. Did every red skin out here want to take her as his wife? Her gaze traveled from the beaded moccasins to the smooth chest and up to the face of a grinning Red Feather. Now, she’d heard everything. Delicious Williams, Indian squaw. “You’ll have to tell him thank you, but no.”
Zeke said something else before turning back to her. “Just some of your hair then. He’s willing to trade for it.”
“But…” She glanced around at the growing amount of spectators. Seemed half the wagon train watched with horror. Except for Sophia Miller. That woman’s cool smile wouldn’t melt butter. She’d most likely rejoice if Delly were carted away to some Indian camp, leaving Zeke alone.
What would happen to everyone if Delly refused? Would the Indian’s good nature disappear to be replaced with violence? She refused to allow herself to be captured, or one of her children stolen.
“The rest of his party is waiting to see if we’re willing to trade. Are we?” Zeke glanced around the group, then fingered Delly’s hair. “Might be able to get yourself some nice things that’ll hold up better out here.”
Delly lowered her hands, and stared into his eyes. Her mother had told her that a woman’s hair was her glory. How much would it be worth to an Indian? The thought of parting with it made her chest tighten. The Bible said vanity was a sin. That a woman’s beauty should come from within. So be it.
She sniffed and nodded. Hair would grow back, but she did like the sultry look in Zeke’s eyes. “All right. I’ll trade for three pairs of moccasins.”
“He’ll consider your hair worth more than that.” Zeke leaned closer. “He also said if you go with him as his woman, you can keep all your hair, and he’ll give me his pony. Sounds like a fair trade to me.” His eyes twinkled.
Gracious! “No, thank you.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why don’t you say something when these Indians make remarks like that? It isn’t proper. Didn�
�t you tell him I said no?”
He put his lips near her ear. His breath tickled her neck, and a flock of sparrows took flight in her stomach. “Yes. I also told him you’re mine. He likes you. So, do I, spirited woman with star-fire hair.” Zeke straightened and placed his hand on the small of her back.
The day suddenly grew warmer. What happened to the man who couldn’t string two words together in her presence?
Delly bit her lower. Her heart danced. Did he have any idea what his casual statements of affection did to her? Could he feel her tremble beneath his touch? She forced an answer through a constricted throat. “Dorcas has some ribbons she wants to trade. What else does he have? The whole family could benefit from a pair of moccasins.” If he thought her worth so much, then she’d trade for all she could get.
Zeke translated and Red Feather’s bronze face brightened. He chattered something and sprinted to where the other Indians waited. Within minutes, he returned with five braves and two squaws. They carried blankets, trinkets, and wild honey.
Delly retrieved her knife from where the Indian had tossed it and hacked off her hair at the shoulders. She handed Red Feather a length as long as his pony’s tail. He waved it above his head and whooped.
Tears filled Delly’s eyes despite the smile she forced. She touched her head. Without the waist-length weight, curls abounded, springing around her shoulders in abandonment. Her sorrow turned to laughter. She felt freer and a lot cooler.
“You didn’t have to give him so much of it.” Zeke twirled a finger around a curl.
“Do you like it?” Please say yes.
He laughed. “Makes you look sassy. Not that you needed any help, Star Fire.” He tweaked her nose and sauntered away, whistling.
Star Fire? At least it was better than Mud Dog.
Did Zeke look upon her as his woman or had he only said so to get Red Feather to back off? Delly fanned herself with her apron. She hated to think he only said those things to keep the Indian from getting further ideas. She shook her head, causing her curls to bounce. Zeke did the right thing, and Delly was silly to dwell on something that couldn’t be.
###
At first glance of Delly being manhandled, Zeke’s heart had stopped, and he’d reached for his rifle. Then he’d recognized his old friend and relaxed. Although white women were still rare in the west, more came every day. Red Feather had chosen well. Delly hadn’t over-reacted and gone into hysterics. Instead, her strong backbone made her willing to defend herself with nothing but a little pig sticker. Downside was, her spunk is what drove Red Feather into making his outrageous suggestion to make her his squaw.
Most Indians weren’t used to a white woman standing up to them. Most swooned or screamed so shrilly, the Indians were tempted to shoot in order to shut them up.
He chuckled thinking how quick Delly’d been to bargain. At least a foot of the most beautiful hair he’d ever seen for a few pairs of moccasins. He shook his head. A high price to pay to his way of thinking.
The other day, he’d overheard her comment to Sadie about how frightened the journey made her. How she feared for those she cared about every day. What she didn’t see was how much stronger she grew with each mile they traveled. That kind of strength was needed in Oregon.
What would it be like to be married to such a spit fire? He doubted anyone could say it would be boring. Although petite, Delly was just the woman he wanted to help him grow his ranch big enough for others to take notice. They’d have a passel of kids to leave their legacy to. And people would travel miles to purchase a horse from The Rocking W Ranch.
Mrs. Ezekiel Williams. He liked the sound of that. Too bad neither of them planned marriage in the immediate future.
10
Delly stared at her feet. Knee-high moccasins hugged her legs with the softness of doe skin. She ran fingers through her now shoulder length hair. By far, she’d made the better trade. She felt ten pounds lighter and cooler.
Intricate bead work decorated the sides and across the top of each foot. She wiggled her ankles. “These are amazing, Sadie. I can’t imagine putting on another pair of confining shoes.”
“My momma would faint right over if she could see me.” Sadie giggled, admiring her own set. “Then she’d probably want to try them on herself.”
Delly didn’t know enough of her mother to make that assumption. And, Lord knows, her father wouldn’t have cared much one way or the other. Not considering how he’d dumped his six offspring at the nearest orphanage before Delly turned three. Obviously, his concern about anything to do with Delly definitely wouldn’t extend to her choice of footwear. Her gaze fell on her own brood, drawing pictures in the loose soil around camp. Abandoning even one of them would be like cutting off her right arm.
“What’s in Oregon for you, Delly?” Sadie lifted the tin coffee pot from the fire and topped off their drinks.
“Independence.” She breathed in the hearty brew. “Kind of like you, I figure.”
Sadie snorted. “I doubt you white folk have a clue what freedom means to us.”
“Your father loved you. I can’t say the same.” Delly sipped the hot liquid.
“Still you was free.” Sadie plopped back on her stool.
“Yeah.” Maybe in the broad spectrum of freedom, but not one day in all of Delly’s eighteen years could she say she relied on no one but herself. She’d lived her own brand of slavery and wouldn’t do so again. Ever. From her mama’s breast, to her father’s uncaring arms, to the cold orphanage, and finally … marriage to a man who squandered their money, according to the debtors who’d come knocking on the door. The deed resting between the pages of her Bible became more important with each step they took west.
Zeke strolled by and tipped his hat.
Delly lowered her gaze. Thankfully, he hadn’t asked her to hand over the precious document. How would she dissuade him if he asked for it? She had to keep it in her possession. She had to! If for nothing else than the feeling of security it gave her.
“What day is it?” Delly pushed off the stool and began placing the last of their breakfast dishes in the wagon.
“Well…I think it’s Sunday.”
“I thought so. The days run into each other to where I don’t know morning from night sometimes. Most times I fall into bed too exhausted to do much of anything but sleep.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “I’m going to speak to Zeke about having a Bible reading when we stop at noon.” She sighed. Resting for the entire day held a lot of appeal, but she’d take what she could get. “I’ve been lax on building the children’s faith.” Not to mention her own wavering one.
She strode toward the other side of the wagon circle, nodding at women bent over fires or tending to children, and searched for Zeke. He stood with a group of men from the committee. They seemed to be in a heated argument.
Zeke towered over the others, arms crossed. Crimson stained his cheeks, and his lips were set in a firm line. Delly stayed on the outskirts. Apprehension rose with the shouted voices, and she clenched her hands in the folds of her skirt. Maybe she should come back later.
The men paused and glanced her way. Only Zeke’s face softened to see her. He strode to her side. “Is everything all right?”
She shook her head. “I can talk to you later. This looks like a bad time.”
“It’s fine. What’s on your mind?”
“I wondered if it would be possible to have a Bible reading when we stop. There’s not a preacher signed up with us, is there?” A nice sermon would be what they all needed. Something to lift their spirits and keep them going. She cast a worried glance at the waiting men who continued to glare.
“Afraid not.” Zeke grasped her elbow and drew her closer to the group. “It’s funny that you should walk up just now. We’re discussing that very thing.”
She cast a worried look at the men.
“Gentlemen, this little lady would also like a day of rest on Sunday.”
“Sure she does,” Mr. Oglesby retorted.
“All the women want a day to sit around and gossip. If they can get out of doing a hard day’s work, they’ll jump at any excuse. Look at my Sophia. Always reclining in the wagon instead of working.” He crossed his arms. “The committee voted to keep moving. We’ll get there sooner. Can’t get stuck in the mountains with snow. We can’t give into the fanciful notions of a bunch of women, either. All they need is a half a day on Sunday.”
Nothing but sit around and gossip? Delly frowned. Mr. Oglesby obviously had no idea how much work a woman did every day. Especially trekking across the wilderness. Her heart went out to his daughter, despite her persnickety ways. Maybe Sophia didn’t drive a wagon, but Delly saw her at every meal hunched over the fire attempting to cook for her family. More often than not, the odor of burnt biscuits surrounded her. Delly gave her credit. She did more than when they first set out.
Delly took a deep breath to control her temper. “It would benefit the children also, Mr. Oglesby. The Lord has said that man needs a day of rest.”
The man’s face reddened. “Don’t argue the Good Book with me. Rest when you get to Oregon.” He turned to stalk away, then stopped and looked over his shoulder. “The world is run by men and should stay that way. That’s what the good Lord intended.”
Delly’s hands trembled as she bunched them in her pockets. She wanted to march over there and smack the smug look off his face.
“If our guide didn’t spend so much time sniffing around your skirts,” Mr. Oglesby continued. “We wouldn’t have this problem.”
Zeke bolted forward too fast for Delly to discern his intentions until he had Mr. Oglesby by the collar of his shirt and spun him around. The forceful movement caused the older man to lose his footing and land hard in the dirt. Zeke hauled him to his feet. “I will not tolerate your insulting Mrs. Williams.” His eyes flashed. “She’s done nothing immoral to warrant those kinds of words.”
Woman of Courage (Four Full length Historical Christian Romances in One Volume): Woman of Courage Series Page 8