Read Online Rose's Pledge by Dianna Crawford, Sally Laity - Free Book Online
Authors: Dianna Crawford, Sally Laity
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befriended her in these colonies, and now he, too, was gone—just like Mariah and Lily. Here she was: a lone woman perched on a smelly creature with her smelly master and six equally smelly Indians —Indians !—traveling a brush-lined trail leading into the vast, deeply shadowed wilderness to some unknown destination. Would she ever feel truly safe again? As the party plodded along in silence, she resigned herself to her disheartening fate, praying for the grace to endure whatever lay ahead.
Her thoughts reverted back to her arrival at the tiny river settlement a scant two hours ago, to meeting Nate Kinyon. From the first moment he stepped into her life, he’d shown nothing but kindness …the only modicum of human decency she’d encountered since disembarking the ocean vessel. She’d felt instinctively that he had a trustworthiness about him, that he was a man of his word. He’d said he’d come to Mr. Smith’s store and try again to rescue her. The promise in his voice, in his eyes lingered in her heart after he walked away.
Even now she replayed the scene in her mind, allowing it to fill her with hope. Was it possible that the Lord sent him for the very purpose of reuniting her with Mariah and Lily? Or had he merely acted the part of a gentleman to go along with his fine clothes? Perhaps this whole predicament was the Almighty’s punishment for rashly having taken control of her family’s situation without so much as a prayer for wisdom and guidance, and now God was leaving her to stew in this mess she’d brought on herself and her sisters. The possibility was too horrid to dwell on, and her heart ached with the pain of loss.
Not liking the direction her thoughts were taking, Rose turned around and met the face of the feathered savage directly behind her. Clad in buckskin trousers similar to Mr. Smith’s, he wore no shirt but had a decorative thing made of colored beads around his neck. His hair, parted in the middle, had been plaited and tied with leather strips.
In the shadowed foliage, the mounted Indian appeared darker than ever as a sly, unpleasant smirk brought a sinister glint to his coal-black eyes.
Rose pretended not to notice and gazed beyond him to the rest of the pack train traversing along a path so narrow it could accommodate only a single horse at a time. Each of the five Indian riders trailed a string of four loaded animals behind them. Taking up the rear, another whip-wielding Indian, this one in buckskin trousers and an open buckskin vest, drove a bull, two cows, and a calf. Feathers adorned his braided hair, also. For such a ragtag, motley party of travelers, they made quite an impressive assemblage, Rose decided. Perhaps Mr. Smith’s establishment was not nearly so primitive as he and his native helpers appeared.
The Indian at the rear gave a smart crack of his whip, and Rose jumped at the unexpected sound. The rider behind her chuckled under his breath, adding to her already strained nerves. She sat up straighter, determined not to appear like some weak, simpering female as they forged ever deeper into woods so thick with growth hardly a breath of wind stirred through the treetops.
A spot on one of her thinly pantalooned legs began to chafe. Not wanting to draw undue attention, she casually tucked a bit of petticoat between the hard leather saddle and her knee. Traveling at this slow pace had enabled her to adjust quickly enough to riding horseback, but she feared the animal’s swaying and bumping would inevitably take its own toll.
Suddenly from off to the side, wild snapping and cracking echoed through the dense brush. Rose’s heart pounded, and she tightened her grip on the saddle’s pommel. A doe plunged out of the growth in a blur of brown, missing her by mere inches as it leaped across the trail and clattered into the undergrowth on the other side.
Some other wild creature must be chasing after it! Rose held her breath, waiting, listening, but when she heard nothing but
Her thoughts reverted back to her arrival at the tiny river settlement a scant two hours ago, to meeting Nate Kinyon. From the first moment he stepped into her life, he’d shown nothing but kindness …the only modicum of human decency she’d encountered since disembarking the ocean vessel. She’d felt instinctively that he had a trustworthiness about him, that he was a man of his word. He’d said he’d come to Mr. Smith’s store and try again to rescue her. The promise in his voice, in his eyes lingered in her heart after he walked away.
Even now she replayed the scene in her mind, allowing it to fill her with hope. Was it possible that the Lord sent him for the very purpose of reuniting her with Mariah and Lily? Or had he merely acted the part of a gentleman to go along with his fine clothes? Perhaps this whole predicament was the Almighty’s punishment for rashly having taken control of her family’s situation without so much as a prayer for wisdom and guidance, and now God was leaving her to stew in this mess she’d brought on herself and her sisters. The possibility was too horrid to dwell on, and her heart ached with the pain of loss.
Not liking the direction her thoughts were taking, Rose turned around and met the face of the feathered savage directly behind her. Clad in buckskin trousers similar to Mr. Smith’s, he wore no shirt but had a decorative thing made of colored beads around his neck. His hair, parted in the middle, had been plaited and tied with leather strips.
In the shadowed foliage, the mounted Indian appeared darker than ever as a sly, unpleasant smirk brought a sinister glint to his coal-black eyes.
Rose pretended not to notice and gazed beyond him to the rest of the pack train traversing along a path so narrow it could accommodate only a single horse at a time. Each of the five Indian riders trailed a string of four loaded animals behind them. Taking up the rear, another whip-wielding Indian, this one in buckskin trousers and an open buckskin vest, drove a bull, two cows, and a calf. Feathers adorned his braided hair, also. For such a ragtag, motley party of travelers, they made quite an impressive assemblage, Rose decided. Perhaps Mr. Smith’s establishment was not nearly so primitive as he and his native helpers appeared.
The Indian at the rear gave a smart crack of his whip, and Rose jumped at the unexpected sound. The rider behind her chuckled under his breath, adding to her already strained nerves. She sat up straighter, determined not to appear like some weak, simpering female as they forged ever deeper into woods so thick with growth hardly a breath of wind stirred through the treetops.
A spot on one of her thinly pantalooned legs began to chafe. Not wanting to draw undue attention, she casually tucked a bit of petticoat between the hard leather saddle and her knee. Traveling at this slow pace had enabled her to adjust quickly enough to riding horseback, but she feared the animal’s swaying and bumping would inevitably take its own toll.
Suddenly from off to the side, wild snapping and cracking echoed through the dense brush. Rose’s heart pounded, and she tightened her grip on the saddle’s pommel. A doe plunged out of the growth in a blur of brown, missing her by mere inches as it leaped across the trail and clattered into the undergrowth on the other side.
Some other wild creature must be chasing after it! Rose held her breath, waiting, listening, but when she heard nothing but
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