Forsaking All Others (Western Vows)

by Kari Trumbo

  “Try not to get angry. This is all new to you. Each of those letters makes a sound. Some of them make a few different sounds. You put them together to form words.”

  “I didn’t think it would be easy, but I can’t control the stick.”

  “You’re too far away. Let’s move a little closer.”

  “Out in the water?” Her voice squeaked to her ears.

  He gave her a questioning glance. “It’s only a step and the water is barely up to your ankles.”

  He didn’t realize, couldn’t possibly know, her fear of water: deep, shallow, it didn’t matter. It was part of who she was. Rose hated water.

  He toed off his boots and socks, pulled his pant legs up to his knees, and waded in, motioning for her to follow. Rose looked at him and closed her eyes. The water wasn’t deep, only up to his ankles. Surely she could handle that. Taking off her leather shoes, she hiked her dress up and put one toe into the water.

  The sand felt warm and gooey beneath her feet. She squished her toes into it. The channel of water between the land and the large sandbar he’d used to draw in was only about a foot and a half, but it had been far enough that writing had been awkward. He put his hand on her back and drew with his finger in the damp sand. She held her dress close to her and leaned down to write the first symbol in the sand, an uppercase A.

  “Look, Morgan, I did it!” She beamed.

  She grabbed his hand to show her how to do the next symbol. Yanking him off balance, they both tumbled face-first into the sand with a screech. Morgan landed half on top of Rose. She was so slight they didn’t even touch once they landed on their knees. She lifted her hand and saw it was covered in sticky wet sand and she flicked it at him behind her, laughing as it spattered on his nose. Morgan dropped his head in defeat and laughed along with her.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Pete yelled from behind them. “Get off her! How dare you?”

  Morgan tried to get up, but Rose got in the way as she also attempted to stand. Her damp, heavy skirt twisted around his feet. He fell to his side as her head connected with his chin.

  “He...was teaching me...to read.” Rose fought with the dress and finally stood to her full height, letting her skirts pull in the running river.

  “If that’s what you call reading.” He glared at them both. “I could have taught you that a long time ago, but I have more manners.”

  Morgan jumped to his feet and ran at Pete. She stepped out of the cold, flowing water. Those two were bound to fight. She shook her head and looked down at her filthy skirt, ignoring the men and the sound of scuffling in front of her.

  Chapter Seven

  Rose walked further down the small river and found some leeks to go with her potatoes. The scrapping noises of the two men had stopped and the heavy silence of anger prevailed over the camp. She gathered water into a pot, staying as clear of the water as possible to put the leeks and potatoes over the fire. Pete and Morgan gave each other scathing looks but she ignored them. Putting in her own thoughts would just fan the flames again.

  As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t figure out the change that had come over Pete since they’d left. At the reservation, he’d bandaged the cuts and put salve on the bruises her father had left on her. He’d listened to her while she would cry out in the pain of missing her mama. When it seemed like it would never end and they wouldn’t get away, he’d told her stories of how their travels would go and where they would live someday. Life was not living up to his tales.

  Morgan strode to Pete’s horse and pulled on the rope holding Rose’s treasures. He drew the old Bible from it and stomped behind a rock. As she stirred the soup, the random crinkle of a page turning made her wish she could join him. She longed to go back there and learn some more, or go back to that sand bar and try to write the next letter on her own. Even the good smells floating from her cookpot didn’t call to her like the sand bar.

  After what seemed like hours, she banged the side of the pot to let the others know lunch was ready. While they helped themselves, she pretended to get her own cup, rummaging through her bag but grasping at nothing. When the other two were settled, she glanced toward the river and took the long way around camp to get back to the river and the mysterious shapes in the sand.

  She tipped her toe in the water, sucked in her breath for courage, and hopped into the river, holding tight to her now-dry hems. Inspecting her work with a critical eye, it was nowhere near as neat as Morgan’s but it was a start. She saw no sticks nearby, so she sat on her heels. Her dress couldn’t possibly get dirtier than it already was, so she tucked it in her lap as best she could and traced over the A she’d made earlier. Though the handprints from earlier marred it a little, she could still make out the next shape. The B looked tougher than the A. The A shape had been easy, it looked like the home she’d grown up in. What came first on the second shape, the line or the bumps? Her finger hovered over the sand.

  “You do the line first,” said Pete from behind her. She jumped and lost her balance, flailing her arms. Her dress fell into the river and she sat down into the water. The river soaked her to the skin immediately. She shivered, cold and wet, the entire back of her dress soaked from the waist down. She tried to stand but all the garments she wore were so heavy, they pulled her back in. Pete threw his head back and laughed, grabbing his sides and stumbling back from the river.

  “Are you just going to stand there laughing, or are you going to help me?” Her tone was as cold as the water she sat in.

  “I don’t know. This is awfully funny to watch.”

  Rose splashed water at him, catching him in the face. He stopped laughing and looked down at the beads of water on the leather work shirt he’d changed back into before leaving the cabin. Flicking them off, he stomped down to the edge of the water. He thrust out his hand to her and she took it. He yanked her halfway to her feet. When she’d gotten to the point of almost catching her balance, he let her drop back into the water with a great splash.

  “Pete!” she hollered in confusion and anger. Her yell caught the attention of Morgan who sauntered down to the edge of the water. He heaved a sigh and looked gravely at the two of them.

  “I swear, you look for chances to put her in her place. I won’t stand for this. You aren’t kids anymore and I expect you to act as serious as the situation warrants.”

  Her shoulders slumped. He could just as easily be talking to her as Pete―she’d splashed him. Morgan held out his hand to her and helped her get her footing. She was soaked not only from the waist down, but the second fall into the shallow river had splashed her upper body as well. Her dress was heavy and clung to her, binding her legs. She felt the eyes of the two men sear into her back as she rushed for the warmth of the cook fire. Morgan went to his bedroll and handed her a blanket.

  “Instead of standing there staring, you could offer help.” He glared at Pete.

  “And take away your chance to save the day?” Pete turned back toward the river.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice shaking with the cold, taking the cup of soup he offered. The sun dipped behind some clouds and she shivered, sloshing the contents of the cup over the edge.

  Morgan grabbed the cup and held it to her lips, tipping it back for her.

  “We won’t be able to move on until you dry out. Best get as close to the fire as you can and hope the sun comes back out.”

  Her teeth chattered as she pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “C-c-could you t-t-teach me more w-w-while we wait?”

  Morgan shook his head and looked at his feet. “No offense, but I’d rather stay as far from you as possible until he figures out what in tarnation he wants.”

  Morgan strode back to his spot behind the rock and silence took over the camp once again.

  She settled close to the fire, but no matter how she sat, the dress didn’t want to dry. She had nothing to change into and couldn’t stop shaking, chilled to her very bones.

  ~~~

  Pet
e stared at Rose from his position by the river. His clothing was already dry. He’d only wanted to help her with her letters, to show her what the nuns and his mother had taught him. For her to see he was just as capable as Morgan. Rose didn’t even know he could read. She’d never asked.

  He could see her entire body quaking by the fire and he went in search of more wood. The fire would need to be hot in order to dry her out. Grabbing his hatchet, he went to work.

  There was a nice line of trees along the river and it didn’t take him long to find some deadfall branches that he could cut and bring back. The exercise would relieve his tension, perhaps.

  He walked over to her and crouched by her side, dropping the stack of wood by her feet.

  “Rose? Are you all right?” She didn’t respond. Her teeth chattered so she couldn’t. She nodded, but it didn’t fool him. He went over to his bedroll and grabbed his own blanket, wrapping it around her body. He hoped his eyes said he was sorry, but he wouldn’t say it where Morgan could hear.

  The evening wore on and he sat vigil by her, feeding the fire. The spring weather hadn’t been warm enough and now the temperature dropped. Morgan also fed the fire and made the evening meal. They both tried in vain to warm her cold body.

  Rose slept on and off. Pete would not leave her, waking her with a tap to her shoulder and telling her to roll over and warm her other side. By morning, she was saying incoherent phrases, and Pete was near frantic with worry. This was just how her mother had been before she died.

  Morgan pinned him with a glare. “If you hadn’t pushed her into the water, she wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

  Pete snapped. “If she hadn’t splashed me with water, I wouldn’t have dropped her in. And, if you’ll remember, you pushed her in earlier. Why is it you’re so quick to look at what I’ve done and not yourself?”

  “I didn’t shove her. She yanked me and I lost my balance. If you’ll recall, we didn’t fall toward the water.”

  “You fell on top of her!” Pete growled.

  “We fell in the sand. She barely got wet.” He pointed at Pete. “You need to control your temper, grow up, and be a man, or you need to leave.” He pointed off into the night. “You don’t deserve her, and I’m thinking you don’t deserve the protection I afford you, either.”

  “And you think you deserve her?”

  “Despite what you think, I don’t want her. I have no intention of taking her from you, but I will keep teaching her that she doesn’t have to put up with your tantrums. You want everyone to treat you like a man? Act like one.”

  Pete let his tongue loose in a string of Lakota that would have scorched his own father’s ears. He would never be able to convince Rose of his worth. He only wanted to be rid of Morgan so he would have the chance to be what he’d promised her he would be.

  He grabbed the pouch around his neck to calm him as it had before, but the scent of lavender enflamed him further. He grabbed the spare blanket from the horse with his own weapons, and walked off into the night.

  ~~~

  Rose awoke to more heat than she’d ever experienced. She tried to throw her blankets off but Morgan held them on.

  “You have a fever. Keep the blanket on. I’ll get you a cloth on your forehead. We have to let the fever burn through before we can move on.”

  “Pete—?” She choked through her parched throat.

  “He left yesterday. Off to find his own fortune in Kansas. Good riddance.” He turned to the water and dipped a towel in, squeezed it out, and brought it back to her, draping it over her head. Her eyes flew open at the cold cloth. She tried shaking it from her head, but it clung to her skin like a leech.

  “Try to just rest. I don’t want to be sitting in the middle of the prairie for too long. Are you dry finally?”

  She tried to sense without moving if she was wet or not but intense heat assailed her senses and she couldn’t tell. She nodded her head but didn’t speak.

  Pete had left her. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm in her chest. She couldn’t remember a time without him. He’d always been there for her, rescued her from her father after her mother died. How could leaving the reservation change a man so much?

  She closed her eyes against the pain and felt Morgan tuck the blankets under her on both sides. She opened them again to thank him but he’d already walked away. She saw that at some point, while she’d slept, he’d put a ring of rocks around their fire to contain it. He flopped onto his roll and snored less than a minute later.

  Chapter Eight

  Rose stood and stretched her aching muscles. The ground had lost its appeal days ago. Morgan slept while she stoked the few coals left from last night’s fire. He’d needed his rest after watching her so much. She wilted some greens for breakfast and the sizzle woke him.

  “Finally feeling better?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Good. When we’re done eating, we can clean up and I’ll shorten those stirrups for you.”

  She looked at him wide-eyed. “I thought Pete would take the horse?” She looked over to where the horses had been tied, far enough away for the smell, close enough to hear them. Both horses stood munching the grass.

  Morgan turned from her. “It wasn’t Pete’s horse to take. He left on foot about three days ago. Said he was going to Kansas and he didn’t expect to meet up again.” He sat up and rolled up his blanket. “One question has been eating at me, though. He got mighty angry when I said he could pass for a white man. How’d an Indian get the name Pete? Rose sort of makes sense, but I’ve never met...well, you understand.”

  Rose bit her lip. Pete would never agree to tell an outsider his secret, and certainly not this outsider. How could she answer the question and not divulge the one thing Pete kept to himself?

  “That’s Pete’s tale to tell, not mine. I’m sure if you think about it long enough, you’ll figure it out. You’re a smart man.” She walked over to the horse Pete had ridden, ending the conversation.

  She rubbed the horse’s mane and buried her face in its neck. So it hadn’t been a dream. Pete was gone. The abandonment hit her hard, harder than anything he’d said to her, harder than a punch from her father’s fist. She wiped the tear from her cheek and went down to the river to wash her hands.

  The shapes in the sand from her lesson should have reminded her of Morgan, but all she could hear in her head was Pete’s voice: you do the line first. He knew how to read and write and she hadn’t realized it. He could have taught her, but she’d always assumed he didn’t know. Rose splashed water over the writing until it washed away. No more Pete, no more words. This was a new life.

  She marched back to the fire, wiped her hands dry, and ate a small breakfast. Setting the pan aside to cool, she rolled the blankets and put away everything they’d brought. The Bible waited for her in the bag, and she lifted it out.

  “This belongs to you.” She handed it to Morgan. “I’ll never learn to read it. Why don’t you take it back?”

  He looked at her but didn’t take it. “Don’t lose hope. I’ll read it to you in the evenings. Perhaps you will catch on just by watching the words. I have no doubt you are stubborn enough.” His lip crept up on one side.

  She sighed, putting the Bible back in her bag. Morgan tied it shut and put it on the back of her horse. He wove his hands together and she placed her tiny foot into it, mounting what seemed to her a huge beast. Taking a minute to adjust each side of the saddle, he looked up at her and smiled.

  “Think you can try to climb off and on yourself?” His eyebrows raised, and it gave her hope.

  She slipped her foot into the stirrup and stood, flung her left leg over the horse and bent her right leg down toward the ground. It was a longer drop than she’d expected. As her left knee leveled with her right foot still in the stirrup, she stopped and looked down, unable to tell how far she had yet to go.

  “Just drop.” She heard the mirth in his voice from the other side of the horse and she followed his direction. She fell, but not far, and now she knew how
high she’d have to reach her leg up.

  Hopping slightly with her left leg and catching her weight with her right, she was able to mount the horse on her own. If anyone else saw the procedure, they would’ve been thoroughly scandalized. She smiled in triumph as he nodded at her.

  She flicked the reins as she’d seen him do, and they were off. It should have been exciting. She had the feeling this was the last leg of her journey, even though they’d just begun. How her heart could tell, she couldn’t figure. Every so often she looked behind her, longing to see the tanned leather of Pete’s shirt walking toward her in the distance behind them.

  At night, she cooked a supper for them. Morgan dug the Bible out of her pack and opened it to the first page. He pointed to the first word, Holy, and read it. Then he moved his finger to the second word, Bible, and read that. He asked her to repeat the process and she did. He turned the page to what she would soon learn was the first book, Genesis. He moved his finger to the first line and read aloud, “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.” He stopped between each word and pointed to each as he read it.

  “Now you try.” He looked gently at her.

  She did as he asked, then looked at him. “The nuns talked about God, but most of us did not believe their stories. Do you believe in the God of the nuns?”

  “Yes, I do.” His look was inquisitive, not condemning as she had expected.

  Her finger lingered on the page so he didn’t continue. “Why?” she asked.

  He shifted slightly. “Why I believe would do nothing to change you. We can keep reading, and you can learn about my God and make your own decision. Only the Holy Spirit can give you the hunger to know more. I can’t do that for you. In fact, I would bet if someone asked you why you believe in what you do, you would answer that’s what you were taught.”

  She nodded. They had all been taught that way.

  “Well, in the same way, I was taught that love of the Lord is the right way.”