Forsaking All Others (Western Vows)

by Kari Trumbo

  She’d sat by her mother’s bed for days, begging the Great Spirit to help her mother. She’d used every herb she could think of that mother had told her about, but in the end, mama had succumbed to the white man’s sickness. Her father had hovered behind her each day, but had not approached the sickbed, too scared to catch it from Mother until she breathed her last.

  In anger and anguish, her father had grabbed her arm and jerked her away from her mother’s side. She had smelled of the herbs and oils they’d tried to treat mother with. He’d yelled at Rose the whole way to the lake, words burned into her soul. “This is your fault. You played with the half-white. You talked to the white men and women. You brought this curse into my house...I hate you!” He’d yanked her all the way to the edge. She hadn’t had the strength to put up a fight after being awake with her mother for days. He picked her up by one arm and one leg, swinging her with all his hulking might toward the middle. Then he let go.

  She’d flown for a while, flailing her small arms and legs, hitting the water with a splash. It swirled in front of her eyes and her lips parted for a scream, pushing water into her mouth and throat.

  She thrashed as the water pressed in on her. It closed in around her. Within seconds she couldn’t see the surface. Her clothes pulled her down, their weight more heavy than she would’ve ever dreamed. Thrashing her small legs only made her weaker.

  She needed to blow the water out of her mouth but knew if she did, her air would be gone. Her lungs burned and it took every ounce of willpower she had not to just open her mouth to shriek. Her vision blackened around the edges, darkness expanding until she could only see a dot of light.

  A hand out of nowhere grabbed the back of her shirt and yanked hard enough to bring her back to reality. She opened her eyes and they blurred. Then she could see the light of the sun coming closer, and closer still. Her head broke the surface, and Pete’s face stared at her. His eyes were wide and he panted.

  “Breathe!” he yelled. And shook her once.

  She coughed and he turned her, held her around the waist, and clapped her on the back, his strong kicking legs holding them both afloat. She threw up the water she’d swallowed and coughed again.

  He held her around the waist and yanked her back to shore. She couldn’t remember if she kicked her feet to help him or not. He didn’t say another word. He’d taken her to her mother’s closest friend, Minnehaha, to dry off.

  That had been the first time he’d saved her life, and the last time she’d submerged her whole body in water. She’d walked home and her father hadn’t even noticed her return. He’d never said anything about it later. Until the last week, she’d seen Pete every day after that.

  Rose reached for a branch to stop her dizziness, and sat down, looking at the river.

  “No Pete to save me this time.” She reached for her neck for the wooden cross she tied around her neck with a leather thong. “God, if you’re there. I need to do this and I don’t know how...”

  Her eyes swept back and forth along the banks of the river. She couldn’t see any animal or anything else for as far as her eye dared to look. Though she couldn’t see anyone, she felt eyes on her. She wanted to take her dress off and wash it, but if Morgan was coming back, she’d have to hurry to make sure she was back in the dress before he returned.

  She stripped down to her bloomers and chemise. Tip-toeing down to the calmest area the river provided, she knelt by the shore and dunked the dress in, scrubbing with the small bar of soap she’d brought from the cabin. The dress was soon clean enough and she hung it in the sun to dry.

  Walking back to the river, she slowly stepped one foot into the water. Calming her breathing, she moved in up to her knees and submerged one area of her body at a time, lathered it, and rinsed. Finally, she unwrapped her braid out of the comb. Washing her hair made her feel human again.

  Even though she couldn’t wash where the clothing covered her skin, she still felt much better. Returning to her horse, she pulled the pack off the horse’s back to get her bed roll and sewing kit. Her dress needed some mending. She sat in the sun and spread the dress out in front of her to work on the tears while it dried. Once the dress had dried enough to put it back on, she sat to brush her hair and put it back up when Morgan returned.

  “Where is the horse?” His face turned crimson and he glared at her.

  “He was there only a bit ago. I took my pack off to repair my dress.”

  “Well, he isn’t there now.” Morgan motioned to where the horse had been and her mouth dropped in shock. Sure enough, he wasn’t where she’d left him.

  “I tied him when we got here. He was still there after I finished my wash. He would have wandered off before then if he wasn’t tied.” She wrung her hands. How would they get out to the ranch without her horse?

  He ran his hand down his scruffy cheeks. “I was going to leave that horse with you at the ranch so you could leave if you ever needed to. Guess I can’t do that now.” He picked up the soap and sewing kit. “We’ll need to ride quickly for you to get out there. Guess you’ll just have to ride with me again.”

  He lifted her onto his horse and mounted behind her.

  It made sense now. She’d felt eyes on her and someone had been there. Close enough that they’d taken her horse. She should have trusted her instincts and looked around. Whoever it was...had watched her bathe. Rose turned crimson and looked straight ahead, hoping Morgan didn’t notice.

  “I spoke to Augustus Whitte, the owner of Whitte Ranch. He isn’t opposed to his housekeeper being an Indian, though his wife might be. Her name is Charlotte Whitte. They have one daughter, Meghan, though she goes by Meg. You’ll be responsible for keeping the home and cooking the meals for both his family and his men. You will earn a wage and they have a room for you in their home.”

  She wove her fingers into the horse’s mane nervously. “Had the cowhand jobs been filled?”

  If any were still open, there was always hope Pete could find them.

  “Nope, last position was filled early this morning by a young man who’ll be joining them this afternoon.”

  She couldn’t hide her disappointment. Working in Kansas had been the goal, but it had been their dream together, not apart.

  “Will Augustus be there when we get there?”

  “Yes, he said he’d meet us out at his ranch. Are you nervous?”

  Rose unbraided the horse’s hair and combed it with her fingers. “A little. Working alone was never my plan.”

  “You’ll be just fine. Wait and see. Sometimes, God has bigger plans for us. If Pete hadn’t taken some time to do some growing, he would’ve only gotten you in trouble at this new place. If he stayed the man I met, he’ll never settle enough to work for a white man.”

  She liked Morgan but was ready to be done with his company and certainly didn’t want to be riding with him any longer. “Do you really think that?”

  “Yes, I do. He had every opportunity out here to grow up and learn to be a man. Only time will tell if he took that opportunity or fought it.”

  “Who says your way of being a man is the only one?”

  “I’m sure it isn’t, but if you both want to survive out in the white man’s world, you must act like we do or face failure.”

  They rode around a large bend in the road that looked as if it used to be a creek bed. It was eroded deep into the bluff. On the other side, a large log home came into view with a porch that spanned the entire font. She gasped at the sight of it. The home was bigger than any she’d ever been inside. It was bigger than the church the nun’s used to teach and live in on the reservation.

  “I can’t work there, and I certainly can’t live there.” Her hand covered her mouth.

  Morgan pulled up his horse and she looked at him. “Whether or not you believe in the Lord, He has a plan for your life. There is a little girl in that house who desperately needs you. Her mother leaves her every morning to go to town for socializing and does not bring her along. She is only fi
ve and right now is home all alone. Can you imagine living in a home where you can’t go outside or you might get in the way? Her father works very hard. He can’t be there for her.”

  Rose looked down into her lap. This would be her chance to make something of herself. This would be the something more she’d dreamed of. She’d always been told she would never amount to anything, but if she raised this little girl, she could be a mother even without Pete. She lifted her head and sat up as straight as she could.

  “You’re right. I can do this. I must do this.”

  “That’a girl. I won’t be far away if you need anything. Augustus told me they haven’t had a doctor in town for a number of years. I’ll be a busy man. I’ve got to get back to Little Springs, find lodging, and send a letter to my sister. You will do fine.”

  “Thank you, Doc Johnson.” She felt as if, now that they were done on the trail, she needed to use his last name, not Morgan. “Please tell her that I made it and I’m doing fine.”

  He dismounted and helped her down.

  “I will do that. Goodbye, Rose. I’m sure this isn’t the last time I’ll see you.”

  He mounted his horse, turned, and rode away, leaving her to walk to the house alone.

  Pete, I wish you were with me. I’ve never done anything like this on my own. She walked to the front of the house. A little head poked up and stared at her from the window. She raised her hand and smiled at the child. Little Meg, for that’s who it must be, smiled back and a forever connection was forged.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rose shifted and straightened her skirts back to where they should hang, wishing the dress fit better. Then, she pressed them down with her hands. The front door of the home opened and a huge shadow fell over her. She sucked in her breath and flinched.

  That shadow, enormous like her father’s, could only mean one thing: a giant of a man. She looked up, expecting the worst. He had wild dark hair and a genuine smile. He threw his hand out at her. She jumped at the rapid movement, recoiling back. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and faced the huge man.

  “Augustus Whitte. You must be Rose.” He shook her hand, an experience she’d never had before. “Doc Johnson told me a bit about you.”

  She looked around the ranch in the span of a second. Her eyes fixed on a horse, her horse, corralled in a fence. She squinted to make sure, but from the distance it certainly looked like hers.

  “Come inside. I’ll show you where you’ll stay and what you will do. My daughter, Meg, has been watching for you since I told her you were coming. She is excited to have another woman around.”

  “Sir?” She stopped at the base of the stairs.

  “Yes?” He turned back to look at her. His eyes were kind but his motions bespoke his desire to get her situated so he could get back to work.

  “Where did that horse come from? The dapple one in the fence?” She pointed at it but kept her hands close to her body so it wouldn’t alert suspicion.

  “I think that one belongs to a hand I just hired on. Nothing for you to concern yourself with. Come along.”

  He didn’t wait for her this time, walking back to the door and opening it for her. She frowned and climbed the stairs up the porch. It had a comfortable feel, with mismatched chairs and tables and one hanging double swing. It looked like it was used frequently. She touched one of the rocking chairs and had a fleeting desire to sit on her own porch with a child someday.

  He held the door for her and let her in. The kitchen was huge by her standards and boasted a large stove, pantry, cupboard, and hutch for dishes. It was an older kitchen and the water was still pumped outside and brought in to a large tub in a dry sink. They walked straight through the kitchen, past Meg, who turned and watched them, into a small hallway.

  Gus opened the first room on the left. She walked inside and it was better than she’d ever imaged. Not only did she have a bed, but a small area to hang dresses, if she ever had more than the one, and a bureau. She even had a looking glass.

  “I assume the room is sufficient?” Gus interrupted her appraisal.

  “Yes, it’s perfect, sir. Thank you.”

  “I wanted to put you next to the kitchen so you could hear the goings on. There are five other personal rooms, a sitting room, and the kitchen to keep. You will have to get up early to get breakfast ready for everyone.” He led her back to the kitchen and showed her the location of the pots and other cooking equipment.

  “Sir, forgive me for being so forward, but why is it that you are showing me around your kitchen?”

  The child by the window giggled and stifled it with her hand.

  “Meg...Seen, not heard.” He gave his daughter a pointed glance and she hid behind the table. The top of her head pointed above, her eyes still taking in everything.

  “My wife, Charlotte, does not cook.”

  Rose made a conscious effort to close her mouth.

  He went on. “So, you can see why we are desperate to have someone here. You will be cooking for about twenty people, including my wife who is...” He looked at his daughter and then at Rose. “Well...You’ll see when you meet her this afternoon. Whatever she says, and she will say a lot, you answer to me. Be respectful of her always, but she cannot fire or dismiss you. She will try.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Rose curtsied awkwardly.

  “Do you think you can handle everything from here? If you have any questions, I will be in the barn. I’m training a new cowhand this afternoon.”

  Rose nodded and Augustus took his leave. Rose sighed and put her hand to her forehead. The kitchen overwhelmed her. The table itself was massive. Little Meg followed her gaze to the table.

  “They eat in shifts,” she whispered. “You’ll feed us first, then the foreman and the top hands, and finally the greenhorns.” Her voice increased in confidence with each syllable. “I’m Meg. Who’re you? You’re an Indian, aren’t cha? Where’re you from?”

  “Land sakes, child. Do you ever take a breath?”

  “My mother says I have no manners and I look and act like a boy.”

  Rose stifled a giggle. “I think you are lovely. I’m Rose.” She offered her hand to shake. “Are you here to keep me company?”

  Meg shook her hand like a grown up. “Can I help instead? I usually help Father cook.” Meg’s eyes grew wide and she slapped her hand over her mouth. The wee girl turned as red as a tomato.

  Rose laughed. “Your secret is safe with me. I’ll never tell anyone your father used to cook.” Rose bent to eye level with Meg, not far for her to lean. “You can help as long as it’s all right with your father.” She touched the tip of the child’s nose.

  “Father was going to say Mother is going to have a baby. I don’t think you can see it yet, though.”

  Rose chuckled. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out how any woman could possibly leave this sweet child at home.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rose wiped her brow and threw her braid over her shoulder for what seemed like the hundredth time. Working over the stove, she babied the stew she’d thrown together with Meg. The smell of yeast wafted from the oven. The bread was almost done.

  A clatter from outside sent her to the same window Meg had been at when she’d arrived. A covered carriage stopped in front of the house. A dainty woman in the most elaborate dress Rose had ever seen emerged from inside and the driver assisted her down. This had to be Charlotte. She looked completely out of place on the dusty ranch. Rose pressed her hands down her rumpled skirt, wiped her brow with the back of her hand, and felt her hair. It certainly didn’t compare to Charlotte’s.

  The woman walked into the kitchen, removing her gloves one finger at a time as she walked. She stopped short when she caught sight of Rose and she narrowed her eyes.

  “Who are you and why are you in my house?” Her voice rose. “Augustus! We have an intruder.”

  “I’m not an...that is to say...he hired me this afternoon.”

  She turned toward the door, ignori
ng Rose. Removing a massive pin from under her hat, she placed the hat on the dry sink. Charlotte opened the door and yelled for her husband once more. She turned and pointed the long needle at Rose.

  “Don’t move. I don’t know what you are here to take, but my husband will put a stop to this.”

  Rose put her hands up and Meg hid behind her skirt.

  “Now, just a minute. I’m not here to steal anything.”

  “Silence! Not another word out of you.”

  Augustus strode into the house. “Charlotte.” He sighed. “I see you’ve met Rose. She will be cleaning and cooking for us.”

  Charlotte said each word out of the side of her mouth slowly, as if Augustus were not in his right mind. “She is an Indian. She will rob us blind.”

  Augustus shook his head. “She will do no such thing.” He turned to face Rose. “That soup smells good, Rose. We’ll sit down to eat as soon as you’re ready.”

  Rose turned and opened the oven. “I’ll have the table ready in ten minutes, sir.”

  He nodded and led his wife to the sitting room. Rose released her breath and went to the hutch for bowls. She touched the door to the hutch when she felt a tug on her skirt.

  “Miss Rose? I’ll put out the dishes. Mother is particular about where everything goes.”

  “Somehow, I’m not surprised.” Rose carried the bowls to the table and Meg set them at each place, taking extra care to make sure the pattern faced each person perfectly and each spoon and tea cup was precisely as her mother wished. Rose never could have guessed most of it. Meg had just saved her from a huge embarrassment.

  The three members of the Whitte family ate first, then the foreman and seven others. The final eight workers lumbered into the kitchen, tired and dirty. She had only just finished changing the water in the basin by the door when the first man arrived. Her tasks took all of her attention and she didn’t watch the hands. By this time, she’d been working over the stove for hours and she looked forward to the time when she could sit and eat some dinner herself. Throwing her hair over her shoulder once again, she leaned in to grab the last loaf of bread from the oven.