Rose's Pledge

by Dianna Crawford

  Nate came to a halt, stopping her along with him. “I may not be as thick with the Lord as you’d like me to be, Rose, but me and Him’s been havin’ some real interestin’ conversations lately.”

  Conversations? Was there no reverence? Did Nate assume he could treat almighty God like one of his pals? “Nate—”

  He dropped her hand and stepped back, his eyes narrowing. “I can tell by the look on your face. You still don’t think I’m good enough for you. Now that you’re all free an’ clear an’ goin’ back to civilization, you figger you don’t need a rough guy like me no more. Figger you can snag yourself some bloke who’s a whole lot more upstandin’, more—”

  Robert turned back abruptly, almost bumping into them. He glowered and held a finger up to his lips. “I hear horses up ahead. Get off the trail, Rose, till Nate an’ me see who it is.”

  Seeing that Shining Star had already ducked into the woods with the baby, Rose felt her blood turn cold. “More Indians?”

  “I doubt it.” Nate’s words came out on a harsh note as he sprinkled gunpowder into the flashpan of his musket. “Most likely trappers comin’ in for winter pelts. Best not to take chances, though. Hurry!” Anger still sparked in his eyes.

  Rose grabbed his shoulder. “Not till I tell you your figuring is a bunch of nonsense.”

  “Go!” He replugged his powder horn. “We’ll talk later.”

  Nate and Bob positioned themselves behind trees on either side of the trail, waiting for the source of the creaks and groans of leather and the hoofbeats to crest the hill. Two bearded riders came into sight, each pulling a pack animal.

  As they drew nearer, Nate let out an easy breath. “Looks like Reynolds an’ Stuart,” he called across to Bob. Stepping out onto the trail, he waved his rifle overhead in greeting as a relieved grin spread across his face.

  The rawboned men, bundled in heavy fur wraps, gave a jaunty return wave. The first one shook his head. “Well, if it ain’t Nate Kinyon an’ Black Horse Bob. An’ still sportin’ their scalps, yet.”

  Nate grinned back. “Aye. Barely.” He turned and hollered into the woods, “You gals can come out. They’re friends.”

  Bob strode forward. “Howdy, boys. Sure is good to see a friendly face.”

  Rose emerged from the stand of trees, checking her hair and drawing her worn cloak snugly about herself. Nate had to chuckle at the sight. Women. Always worryin’ about their looks.

  “How—” The greeting died in Stuart’s mouth as he spotted the women stepping onto the trail. A white woman never ceased to catch everyone by surprise. He and his partner dismounted and walked straight to Rose.

  “Ya poor thing.” Reynolds’s bushy eyebrows dipped into a frown. “Don’t ya be frettin’ none, yer on yer way home now.” He turned to Nate. “What’d you boys have to fork out to ransom the gal back?”

  “I wasn’t a hostage,” Rose said. “I worked for Eustice Smith until he went to be with the Lord.”

  Reynolds whipped the coonskin cap off his wiry hair. “You was at Smith’s tradin’ post? Well, I’ll be a—” He clamped his mouth shut before uttering something Nate was sure was not fit for feminine ears.

  He and his partner crowded close. “Well, I’ll be,” they said in unison, wagging their shaggy heads.

  Not appreciating the way the hunters were surrounding Rose, Nate edged to her side. “We’re in a real hurry to get back to the Delaware.”

  “Aye.” Bob nodded. “Some Frenchies an’ a big party of Senecas from up north came sneakin’ into Muskingum b’fore dawn a week ago. They been chasin’ after us. They finally gave up an’ turned back the day b’fore yesterday.”

  “Turned back, did they?” Surprise tinged Stuart’s expression. He narrowed his beady eyes.

  Nate slipped closer to Rose. “We covered our tracks real good when we left then did our best to stay off the trail, so they were never sure we was comin’ this way. They passed us by that first day and kept right on goin’. They must’a waited up ahead, hopin’ we’d come to them. When we never did, they gave up and went back. I’m sure they sent out trackers to the north and south, too. Figgered we might’a went thataway.”

  Reynolds scratched his head. “‘Bout how far ahead of us would ya say them Injuns be?”

  “Two, mebbe three days,” Bob answered as Shining Star moved alongside him. “You should pick up their tracks in a couple’a miles.” He helped unhook the cradleboard on Star’s back and brought Jenny around to the front.

  Both hunters gawked.

  “Whose babe is that?”

  “Mine.” Nate blurted the word without thinking. He didn’t like the way the pair kept ogling Rose. He caught Bob’s glare and attributed it to the lie, but he still didn’t correct the error. He maintained a steady glare.

  Reynolds kneaded his scraggly beard and looked from Nate to Rose and back. “I didn’t know ya had a young’un.”

  Stuart picked up on Nate’s not-so-subtle warning and changed the subject. “So Smith’s tradin’ post was taken by the French, too. Make sure ya get word to Governor Dinwiddie. He’ll be mighty interested. Last month he talked to the Virginia House of Burgesses about them forts the Frenchies are puttin’ up on the south side of Lake Erie. Dinwiddie told the assembly the Crown wants ‘em to take some tax money an’ raise a militia. Well, the House was already up in arms about some fool taxes the king started slappin’ on the colonies. The whole meetin’ turned into such a ballyhoo over the new taxes, nothin’ was done about raisin’ a militia a’tall.”

  “That’s it?” Nate was appalled.

  The hunter cocked his head. “Far as the House is concerned. When Dinwiddie found out the Frenchies took Logstown, too, he—”

  Bob’s mouth gaped in dismay. “They took Venanga an’ Logstown?

  Both?”

  “‘Fraid so. An now from what you say, they got Smith’s.”

  “Aye.” Nate let out a weary breath. “Guess they figgered on gettin’ themselves one more before the hard winter sets in. What galls me is there ain’t nobody doin’ a blasted thing to stop ‘em.”

  “That ain’t entirely so.” A slow grin widened Stuart’s weathered face. “The governor dubbed some young surveyor named Washington a major an’ sent him forth.”

  “Then Dinwiddie did raise a militia despite the House of Burgesses.”

  “Not exactly.” The other hunter swapped grins with his partner. “He sent Washington with a letter, him an’ a couple’a longhunters an’ a interpreter. Now ain’t that just a hoot! ‘Monsieur Frenchie, would y’all please leave? We ain’t got no militia, but we’d sure appreciate it if ya’d go.’ “Both men howled.

  Nate failed to see the humor in any of it and noted that Bob didn’t either. “Well anyways, you boys know what you’re walkin’ into.”

  “That we do.” Reynolds sobered. “That’s why we’re fixin’ to turn south when we reach the west fork of the Monongahela. Goin’ down Cherokee way. Winter furs won’t be as plush, but we’ll still have our scalps.”

  Nate nodded. “That fork was froze over when we crossed it.”

  “We ain’t plannin’ to go over it again. Figure we’ll stay on this side. We best get a move on, too. Only got a couple more hours before dark.”

  Even with his dismissal, both hunters turned to Rose, looking much too pleased at the sight of her. They tipped their caps as Nate wrapped a proprietary arm around her.

  “Been a real pleasure, ma’am.”

  Chapter 38

  You’re back to lyin’ again.” Robert accused with a scowl.

  Hiding her amusement, Rose busied herself with Jenny Ann, handing her a piece of meat to chew on.

  Nate snorted in disgust. “Easier than goin’ into the whole story, ain’t it? Them two blabbermouths don’t need to know Rose was a bondwoman.”

  “Ah. So now you’re lyin’ to me and yourself.”

  Leveling a glower on his partner, Nate snatched up the cradleboard. “You sure are gettin’ fussy in your old age.” He
helped Rose into the straps. “Come on, let’s get goin’. Time’s a’wastin’.”

  There wasn’t much point in trying to start a conversation, considering the mood the two frontiersmen were in. Struggling to keep up with Nate, Rose tossed a backward glance at Star, who appeared to share her opinion as she and Bob lagged behind.

  Out in front of everyone, Nate’s fast pace only increased as time went by. Rose finally took hold of her shoulder straps to ease the cradleboard’s weight and ran to catch up, latching on to his arm. “Are you trying to run off and leave us, or what?”

  His mouth in a grim line, he slowed a bit but didn’t look down at her as he normally did.

  Something was definitely wrong. Recalling that he’d mentioned something about the two of them and the baby being together before the longhunters came along, she moistened her lips. “Nate, what you said before …I want you to know you had the wrong idea entirely.”

  He marched on, still not deigning to look at her, even once.

  Rose felt a lump growing in her throat. “I would never use you and then callously cast you aside. I—”

  “I know that.” His eyes remained on the terrain ahead, but his demeanor eased a fraction. “It’s just …I been takin’ too much for granted. Once we get back, you’ll see.”

  What did that mean? She wished she could look into his eyes, see his heart.

  “I’m real rough around the edges, an’ you talk an’ write all refined-like. I have a hard time just figgerin’ out how to spell even easy words.”

  “That may be true. But you know many other things—important things—that I don’t have the slightest idea about.”

  “Mebbe. But they won’t count for much where you come from.”

  “And my papa’s skills wouldn’t be worth much in the wilderness, either.”

  “It don’t matter. I just been thinkin’ fool thoughts about us. God ain’t about to let me have a lady like you. You hear how I talk. I ain’t never gonna get it right.”

  Before she could respond, he stretched out his stride again, leaving her in his wake.

  Rose’s spirit sank to her toes. Did the man actually think she was that shallow? That judgmental?

  No, there was a whole lot more to it than that, and well she knew it. What had the housekeeper often asked Mariah when the girl fancied herself married to some rich Arabian prince? Oh yes. A fish and a bird might fall in love, but where would they build their nest?

  And where would she and Nate build theirs?

  The grueling pace Nate set that afternoon continued throughout the remainder of the day. Thankfully the trail stayed fairly level, with only an occasional iced-over brook to cross. Rose found the walking stick a welcome asset.

  Finally they angled off the trail into a dense stand of firs that would provide a good windbreak and some shelter for the night.

  Rose hoped Nate would be in a better frame of mind when he turned to speak to her. Alas, he didn’t even make eye contact.

  “I heard a gobbler back yonder. Tell Bob I’m goin’ huntin’.” With that, he strode away.

  The resigned droop of his shoulders hit Rose hard, and tears stung the backs of her eyes. His attitude toward her wasn’t exactly rude, but it was impersonal. Painfully impersonal. She couldn’t decide whether to cry or scream.

  Robert, who’d followed at a more leisurely pace with Shining Star, caught up to her. “Where’d Nate go?” “Hunting.”

  “Must’a heard that gobbler.” His tone remained nonchalant, as if nothing was amiss, but he flicked a glance up at the clouding sky. “Let’s find a dry spot to spend the night. Looks like we could be in for some snow.”

  Star smiled at Rose and moved behind her to lift the cradleboard from her back. She propped the sleeping baby against a tree trunk. “Jenee oui-saw.”

  “Yes. She’s been very oui-saw.” Returning Star’s smile, Rose again noticed how much the Indian girl reminded her of her youngest sister, Lily. How she wished the two of them could sit down and have a relaxed conversation over a cup of tea, the way she and Lily so often had done in their cozy kitchen. But Star’s English was almost nonexistent, except for a few words she rarely used, so that was not to be. A deep sigh came from inside.

  She could tell Robert wanted to question her about Nate, but she had no answers. Avoiding his inquisitive look, she blurted the first thing that came to her mind. “I shall look for dry firewood under the trees.”

  After that, Rose did whatever she could to stay occupied. While on her knees gathering needles for their beds later, she reached up in a fir branch to swipe away a cobweb. As she did, she saw Robert and his lady sitting together on a shared robe before the fire, his arm wrapped around Star as they snuggled within the confines of the other robe.

  Looking closer, she saw that he was reading a scripture and then translating it. Star would listen intently, now and then asking a question. With the young maiden’s sweet nature and her willingness to learn about the Lord, she and Robert would have no problem finding a place to build their nest. All one had to do was look at them to know they were God’s choice for each other. Or were they? Nothing seemed clear anymore.

  Off in the distance, the sharp report of a gunshot echoed through the trees.

  Nate must have gotten his turkey. He’d be back any minute. Rose crawled out from under the tree and brushed needles from her hair as her heartbeat picked up.

  Rose, Rose …my Rose of Sharon. Aching inside, Nate knew he’d only been fooling himself. No matter what she might say now, once they reached a town, she’d see what a rough cob he truly was. Lord, help me to accept that she’s way outta my reach. Help me to let her go, like a real gentleman.

  Releasing a pent-up breath, he reloaded his weapon. A snowflake landed on the musket barrel, followed by another on his hand. He looked up at the leaden sky as more flakes swirled around him. He’d better get back to camp before the storm let loose. Picking up the turkey he’d shot, he glanced around in the quickly fading light. From about a quarter mile away, the unmistakable glow from a campfire was like a beacon drawing him home.

  About to head toward it, he detected a staccato of familiar padding sounds coming his way from farther up the trail …moccasined feet! The Senecas! All eight of them! They came to a sudden halt mere yards from where he stood.

  Crouching low, Nate couldn’t tell if the Indians had seen him. But what he saw made his heart stop. One of the trackers pointed wordlessly toward Bob’s campfire. It had to be the same trackers who had been dogging them for a week.

  Still panting from their run, the Indians poured powder into the flashpans of their muskets, preparing for an attack.

  Confident that they didn’t know he was there, Nate pulled the plug from his own powder horn and loaded his musket, knowing the sounds he made would only blend with theirs. Then he took careful aim at the one who appeared to be the leader.

  He pulled the first trigger, then the second. The flash from the explosion blinded him momentarily, but he heard the man grunt, then groan. He’d hit his target.

  Now he was one.

  The first rifle fired at his flash.

  He dodged to the side.

  Whooping and yelling, the war party emptied their weapons. Musket balls whizzed past him, thudding into the ground.

  Lord, let Bob hear all this and be warned. He crashed through the brush in a different direction, hoping to draw the Indians away from the camp. The women needed time to hide.

  From the corner of his eye, Nate saw the fire’s glow suddenly disappear. His friend had understood. He’d surely send the women to safety.

  Father God, don’t let ‘em get Rose and the baby. Protect them!

  Lacking a second to reload, he dropped his musket to free his hands and pulled out his hatchet and hunting knife as he sprinted on.

  Half the Indians followed after him, splitting off from the group.

  Knowing the rest of the Indians were headed for Rose and the others, Nate swerved in that direction.


  A flash and an explosion echoed from camp. A yell of pain pierced the air.

  Bob had hit his mark, but he might not have time to reload before the Indians were on him.

  The runners weren’t far behind. Nate knew from the sound of their feet that they’d reach the camp about the same time he did. And even with two of them down, six still remained.

  Too many for him and Bob.

  Lord, hide the women so they won’t find them. Only You can help them. “I’m comin’, Bob,” he shouted into the growing darkness. A flash and crack split the air, followed by another yelp. “Got one more,” Bob yelled back.

  Guided by the spark of light from his friend’s rifle, Nate charged into the small clearing just as the remaining Indians got there.

  “Over here,” Bob hollered, and Nate rushed to his side.

  Holding his empty musket like a club, Bob stepped around to cover Nate’s back with his.

  The braves knew they had the upper hand. They circled and taunted, their fiendish voices mocking as they jabbed their muskets toward Nate and Bob in sport, then danced back. Finally one of them tired of the game and swung in earnest.

  Bob blocked the blow with his rifle, while another wielded his at Nate.

  He fended it off with his hatchet, but the musket barrel sliced across his thumb. He almost dropped the weapon. Behind him he heard the sound of steel meeting steel.

  One of the Indians swung from Nate’s other side with the butt end of his musket. Nate put up his knife arm to block it. Pain shot up to his shoulder. A few more well-placed blows and he’d go down. If only he hadn’t discarded his musket back there. Rose—

  “Lord,” he bellowed, fending off a vicious jab, “take care of the women!”

  “God be with them!” Bob hollered.

  Two braves swung their muskets at Nate. He blocked a head blow. The other caught him behind the legs, taking him down. He had to get up.

  A musket shot rang out.

  A Seneca brave slammed heavily into Nate then slid to the ground beside him. Pushing the man off, he scrambled to his feet.