Rose's Pledge (18 page)

O
n her very first seemingly endless day of travel, Rose had decided it was pointless to try to memorize passing landmarks in hopes of making her way back to Baltimore some future day on her own. Now that a fortnight had passed, she relinquished even the hope of escaping by her own efforts. As the caravan plodded up one mountain and down again, crossed another stream or creek or river like the one they’d forded a day or two or three ago, she concentrated on the beauty of God’s untouched wilderness.

Her eyes beheld huge moss-covered boulders and majestic, sheer cliffs jutting out of the mountainside along the route. Strange new animals peeked from behind trees and shrubs and massive ferns, and bright red birds reminded her of Mariah dressed in all her finery. Just then a pair of orange-bellied birds resembling the orioles in England flitted among the trees, adding splashes of vivid color among the many blends of green.

Bluebirds with prominent crests and black, white, and red woodpeckers were also quite colorful, she admitted, but they had the annoying habit of breaking the blissful silence by making cacophonous calls and rapping on trees.

Inhaling the fresh scent of pine and the fragrance of the meadow flowers and tall grasses growing beside gurgling brooks, Rose couldn’t help comparing the alluring perfumes of nature to the rank, odorous sewers of Bath, the acrid smell of smoke and falling ash from a thousand British chimneys. During the long voyage across the Atlantic, she had not experienced anything akin to the wonders of this new land, America. It was so filled with life, she felt exhilarated.

“Caught you smiling again.” Nate surprised Rose as he guided his mount alongside hers.

“I’m afraid you did. I just saw a greedy little squirrel with the fluffiest tail ever trying to stuff one more acorn into his cheek …and all the while he’s squealing at another squirrel in the next tree. See him?” She pointed up to a branch not far away.

He nodded, and that easy grin of his stretched across his face. “Thought you’d want to know we’ll be reachin’ the river in a couple of minutes.”

“Another river?” She rolled her eyes. “And which one will that be, not that it makes the slightest bit of difference.”

“Which one?” His straight brows sprang high on his forehead as he stared at her. “The Ohio. It’s the one all the others we crossed drain into.”

“Oh. Well, now that you mention it, I believe I can almost hear the roar. Did you not say the Ohio’s near the river where Mr. Smith has his store?”

“Aye.” His grin widened. “Where the Muskingum forks in. It’s a mile or so downriver from here.”

Rose felt her pulse quicken with excitement …and fear. “As I recall, you said a Shawnee and Delaware Indian village has formed near his enterprise.”

“Right. But don’t fret. Those Indians never gave him a lick of trouble, so they shouldn’t bother you none. Like I said, they value the trader and the goods he supplies too much to give him reason to up an’ leave here with all his merchandise.”

After all this time, we shall finally reach our destination, then. Splendid!
Still feeling some trepidation at the thought of being presented to the trader’s wife, Rose schooled her features and did her best to dredge up a smile. Surely Mrs. Smith, another white woman, would be glad to have some female company around.

Rose cast a despairing look down at her hopelessly faded and worn brown dress, which she’d sacrificed rather than spoiling any of the few other daygowns she’d brought with her. All the natural lace that had adorned it at the start of the trip had frayed and worn away, and with all the snags and tears and stains the pitiful garment now bore, its best fate lay in the burn barrel. While the men were occupied with constructing the rafts the party would need, there had to be time to spruce up before meeting the trader’s wife. Rose decided to don the indigo blue gown she’d worn briefly while her rain-saturated clothes dried. She’d prevail upon Nate to get her trunk down from the packhorse.

How odd, though, that Mr. Smith had not volunteered a single piece of information about his wife during this journey—except that he didn’t like her cooking. Whenever Rose attempted to bring up the subject, mentioning that the woman must be very lonely with him gone for such a long time, he’d merely shrugged and said that her brothers were there to keep her company.
More men
. Rose supposed she’d be cooking for them, too.

Within moments, the midnight blue of an immense river came into view, certainly much larger than any of the others they’d crossed along the way. Dark and deep, it moved so massively that scarcely a ripple disturbed its surface.

“I’ve never seen such a wide, powerful river,” Rose murmured.

Nate emitted a chuckle from deep inside. “I canoed down it once as far as the Mississippi, an’ as big as you think the Ohio is, the Mississippi’s a good four or five times bigger.”

Rose gasped. “Mercy me. This surely is a wondrous new land.” She turned to him.

As he gazed at her, Nate’s eyes took on a warmth she’d never before glimpsed in them. Then he looked off into the distance. “That it is, Rose. That it is.”

Could she possibly have been the cause for such a tender gaze, or was it merely evidence of how much he loved his frontier life? She reined in the romantic fancy lest he read something in her own expression. “I do hope Mr. Smith’s store is on this side of the river. I can’t imagine a rope long enough to ferry us to the other shore.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Now that would be a powerfully long chunk of hemp, wouldn’t it? Unfortunately, his store does happen to be on the other side, so we’ll have to build us some rafts for crossin’. By the time we rudder our way across, we’ll probably have floated down to just about where the Muskingum town is. I’d say we should have enough trees downed an’ cleaned an’ the rafts put together before the day’s out.”

Looking about as men began chopping down trees, Rose knew this would be far from just one more crossing for them—it would be crossing the hard way. With Britain being tamed and settled from shore to shore, bridges, walls, buildings, tradesmen, and exotic trade goods were all a matter of course. Though her life had been quite busy there, compared to the American frontier it had been quite easy. Food was as near as the local marketplace, clothing as close as the nearest seamstress. And Papa’s livelihood hadn’t involved providing a necessity like food or shelter or clothing. He made adornments for the frivolous rich folk to wear about as they attended socials and parties.

Yes, life had been much easier in Britain, more tranquil, and shamefully taken for granted by everyone. Rose breathed in her surroundings. Perhaps circumstances had been more comfortable there, but in some strange way, she’d never felt so alive as she did now.

She looked up at Nate. “While you men are building the rafts, is there something I might do to help? I cannot sit about doing nothing.”

He gave a decisive nod. “Food. Lots of food. I know the Shawnees’d appreciate whatever you fix, same as the rest of us. Choppin’ down trees for rafts is real hunger-makin’ work.”

“As you wish. I shall make the lot of you a royal feast …even if it is jerked meat and mush and beans. And could you possibly get me my trunk when you have a moment?”

Raft construction took longer than expected, and rather than attempt a night crossing, Nate was glad when Smith decided they’d make camp one last time. Some of the men had gone hunting and returned with a pair of fat geese, which Rose immediately prepared and roasted for supper. They were quickly devoured, fresh game always being appreciated much more than dried jerky. Nate admired the outdoor cooking skill his very refined Rose had acquired along the journey. She’d come a long way from having to depend on a proper hearth.

The following morning, the log rafts were loaded and launched one by one. Eustice Smith oversaw the loading of the first two, figuring that by taking one in the middle of the line, he’d be able to keep an eye on all his goods and be onshore when they were unloaded. Now on the third one with Rose and the trader, Nate watched Rose observing the lead raft as it slowly made its way across and downstream, aided by the river.

“We’ll reach the village just before the Muskingum merges,” he told her, “an’ be at the tradin’ post soon enough.” Keeping a steady hold on the rudder, he studied the slender English beauty perched on her trunk as she looked ahead, her expression heart-wrenchingly expectant. The dark indigo of the new gown she’d put on added depth to the blue-gray of her eyes. Even her hair had been washed and brushed and lay in shiny, silky amber waves he wished she hadn’t tied back with a ribbon. She looked so feminine and delicate, yet he’d witnessed her strength of character and determination dozens of times. If only she knew what lay ahead …

Nate swallowed a huge chunk of guilt. He should have prepared her for her first visit to a Shawnee village instead of allowing her to believe Smith’s store sat in the middle of a civilized town. But she had so many fears to work through already, he didn’t have the heart to cause her more worry. Things were sure to come as a shock to her. He eyed the trader slouched on a flour sack with his grubby hands dangling between his knobby knees. Just what would the old geezer take to let her go back where she belonged?

Catching the eye of the Indian riding with them, Nate motioned for him to take over. The brave obliged and handed Nate his pole then took control of the rudder stick while Nate made his way gingerly across the logs to Smith. He cleared his throat.

The man peered up at him and grunted.

Speaking in tones Rose would not overhear, he met the trader’s narrowed eyes. “Look, Eustice. You know an’ I know that Indian village is no place for a proper lady like Rose Harwood. Tell me what I can give you to let her go back to her kind. Do the decent thing for once in your life.”

The man fingered his beard as if considering the matter and let out a deep huff. His bony shoulders rose with a shrug, then he looked up at Nate in all seriousness. “The truth of it is, if I had me enough furs or cash money ta quit sellin’ stuff to folks an’ go off where I’d be able ta live in comfort the rest o’ my life, I’d take it. This trip’s prit’near been the end o’ me, Kinyon. It’s all I can do to put one foot in front o’ the other. I’m too old to be gallivantin’ back east for goods ta sell then hike over mountain trails an’ sleep on the hard ground in all kinds o’ weather. Thing is, right now I need that gal to cook me some good food till I’m able ta consider packin’ up an’ leavin’. That’s all I can tell ya.”

A tide of discouragement swept over Nate.
Enough furs or cash money to live on for the rest of his life! How could a body come up with that?
Awhile back, he remembered hearing rumors about silver, about some Shawnee chief downriver toward the Mississippi having a secret silver mine. Could it be true? Well even if it was, rumor had it that some Frenchies had set up a trading post of their own down there, and they sure wouldn’t want any competition. Still …one never knew. He turned to admire Rose again. Somebody had to do something, and there was nobody to do anything but him. He’d just have to find a way, that’s all there was to it.

Chapter 15

R
ose didn’t know what she expected to see when she arrived at the settlement where Mr. Smith’s trading post was located, but it wasn’t anything remotely compared to what she found. Before her lay fenced, cultivated fields that flanked a goodly number of dome-shaped and cone-shaped dwellings covered with bark and animal hides, and even some long, low lodges. When the raft passed some of the conelike structures near the riverbank, bronze-skinned men, women, and naked children had charged out of them, whooping and yelling as they ran alongside, keeping pace with the raft. Others, many attired in pale deerskin, streamed from other huts to join them. Her anticipation mounted with the excitement of the gathering throng.

Scanning the enthusiastic revelers, Rose searched for Mrs. Smith among the mass, but to no avail. Obviously the woman was shy or perhaps used to such displays and reluctant to be jostled by such an eager crowd. She grabbed hold of the railing as the raft floated next to one of the others and dug into the moist riverbank. Nate’s strong arm saved her from pitching forward as it lurched to a stop.