Rose's Pledge (12 page)

“Miss Harwood.” He greeted her with a broad grin.

She started right in. “Mr. Bloom. I’d like to ask you something, if I may.”

“What is that?” Concern furrowed his dusky brow, making his dark brown eyes appear almost black.

To put him at ease, she offered him a small smile. “I’m curious regarding your parents. Having just arrived from across the water, I’ve never had occasion to meet someone with your background.”

His smile fell flat. “You mean about me bein’ a half-breed?”

“Not at all. That term hardly describes your heritage. You’ve actually had the advantage of having parents from two different continents …a man of two worlds.”

His jovial grin reappeared, and he sat straighter in the saddle. “That does have a more pleasurable ring to it.” He paused then continued. “My ma was captured and sold as a slave when she was young, and my pa took it on hisself to marry up with her an’ take her to live on his farm. So you’re right about the two worlds. Trouble is I never feel like both my feet are welcome in either one, an’ no matter where I go, seems part of me’s left on the outside.”

Rose gave a light laugh. “I know exactly what you mean. From the moment I stepped foot on this continent I’ve felt as if neither of my feet is touching solid ground. In my wildest girlhood dreams, I never expected to be here in the colonies, let alone find myself traversing a wilderness trail to an unknown destination.”

“You came as a surprise to us, too.” He chuckled along with her. “It’s different with me an’ Nate, though. His pa’s place bordered ours, so him an’ me grew up together as boys, playin’ together, fishin’ together, best friends. I even had me some schoolin’ along with him. When we go out on our own, explorin’ some new piece of country, my feet’s jest where they wanna be. A’course, there was a spell when the two of us was separated for some years, when Ma run off with me back to her own people.”

“Mercy. I’m sure going to a whole new world must have been difficult for a young lad.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Not too bad. They was more willin’ to accept my English blood than the white man was my Indian side. I got used to bein’ looked down on or just plain ignored by folks. But I had some catchin’ up to do with Ma’s people, learnin’ to hunt with a bow an’ such. A lot of their ways seemed strange. Pa’s Presbyterian teachin’s pulled one way and theirs the other.”

“I can understand that.” But she wanted to know more, so she plunged on. “How were you able to reconcile the two different teachings?”

He laughed. “If you’d a’knowed my pa, you wouldn’t ask that. When I was near sixteen, I came back out to see how him an’ Nate was doin’, an’ Pa wouldn’t let up on me till he set me straight. He took down his big ol’ Bible ever’ night an’ read it out loud at the supper table after we finished eatin’. An’ once when that preacher Reverend Whitefield come through our town, Pa drug me to the meetin’ place to hear him. That Reverend Whitefield was one powerful preacher, a true man of God, an’ like they say, I ‘saw the light.’ I like to think of myself as one of them New Lights. Nate doesn’t b’lieve like me yet, though. I’m still workin’ on him.”

Rose wondered what Nate’s beliefs were. He’d prayed that rather odd prayer at breakfast this morn, but it seemed to come from his heart. She barely restrained herself from turning around to look at him. Instead, she moistened her lips and inhaled deeply. “George Whitefield has also preached to great crowds in my country. I never sat under his teaching myself, however. My family’s in good standing with the Church of England. And from what I understand,” she added with diplomacy, “the Reverend Whitefield’s beliefs differ somewhat from our own.”

“That makes you an Anglican, don’t it?”

“Yes. In my deepest heart.”

He nodded his dark head, gazing off into the distance before turning to her once again. “I always wondered about the difference between you Anglicans an’ us Presbyterians but never knowed anybody I could ask about things. Would ya be of a mind to talk to me about it some evenin’?”

Rose couldn’t believe her good fortune! A true Christian believer traveling with her!
“Oh, ye of little faith …”
God had not deserted her after all. “‘Twould be my pleasure, Mr. Bloom.”

“Hold up!”

Almost lulled into semiconsciousness by the gentle rocking of her horse, Rose jerked fully awake when Mr. Kinyon yelled from behind. She swung in her saddle to see the men of the party bringing their animals to a halt.

“Why are we stopping?” Barely twenty minutes had elapsed since the group had stopped to rest the horses.

“Riders comin’ after us.” He pulled his long-barreled musket from its scabbard and checked its load, as did the others.

Rose scanned the forest trail they’d been steadily climbing. Despite its rustic beauty, she couldn’t forget the possibility of real danger lurking along the route. If shooting started, should she race ahead? Hop down and take cover behind a tree? Or …

When she saw Mr. Smith dismount at the front of the train, she swung a leg over the saddle.

“Stay put,” Mr. Kinyon ordered, passing by with his rifle in hand. “Prob’ly nothin’ to worry about.”

Probably
. She turned on her mount to watch then realized she was the only one still on horseback—a perfect target. Not an ideal situation.

Two white men and a pair of brown-skinned Indians rode up to the end of the column and reined in their horses. Without having drawn weapons, the riders remained on their mounts as they conversed with the travelers in her party, all of whom had congregated at the rear.

One of the newcomers flicked several glances in her direction, making Rose uneasy. Had they come because of her? Had Mr. Smith broken some law by forcing her to accompany him into Indian territory? A tiny ray of hope lessened her fear.

The group talked for several minutes, leaving her to sit and wonder about the proceedings. Finally, the members of her party headed back to their horses, and the strangers slowly worked their way past them on the narrow trail. She didn’t know what to think and drew a nervous breath.

Nate Kinyon and Mr. Bloom reached her first. The latter nodded a greeting. “Sorry to tell ya this, but I gotta leave. I’ll catch up with ya at Smith’s tradin’ post soon as I can.”

“You’re leaving?” Distraught, she cut a glance to his partner. “And you. Are you leaving as well?”

He shook his head and flashed an easy smile. “No, miss. Don’t worry yourself none. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Bob has to go with these fellows down to a Catawba village. Seems a white boy was brought there to be ransomed back to his folks, an’ they need my pal to translate for ‘em. The two braves they sent out to make a deal don’t talk English so good.”

A touch more at ease since Mr. Kinyon wasn’t going to desert her, Rose checked back toward the approaching white men.

Their demeanors remained serious, even determined. “Hurry up and say your good-byes,” one said to Bloom as they came alongside. “Who knows what them savages already done to Billy—and what all they want from us to get him back.”

Rose could easily understand their angst, but she couldn’t help remembering that Robert Bloom was the only person with whom she’d been traveling who professed to be a Christian—and now he was leaving her behind to go to the aid of a boy some savages had taken captive. But she couldn’t help but identify with the lad—who was probably scared to death being held prisoner by wild Indians—and she empathized with the strangers. “I shall pray for you and the boy, that he’ll be safe and unharmed, and that your journey homeward will be without peril.”

One of the men took off his hat and bowed his head to her. “Thank you for that.” He swept a glance around at her motley group then extended his hand, giving hers a warm squeeze. “We’ll be prayin’ for you, too, miss. May the good Lord keep you safe in His hand as that devil Smith carts you off into that hellish heathen land of his.” He flicked a disgusted glance to her owner, who at that moment was lumbering up the trail from the rear.

Rose felt renewed trepidation as the stranger wagged his head and led his party and Robert Bloom away.

Chapter 9

D
etermined not to cry as the newcomers and Robert Bloom took their leave, Rose watched after them until they reached the top of the ridge and vanished from sight. How frail was hope, she mused, when it could vanish so quickly. She’d grown accustomed to having Bloom around, had counted on his presence, and his unexpected departure filled her with emptiness.

In front of her, Mr. Smith turned in his saddle, a smug smirk twisting one corner of his mouth. “Now I’ll only have one o’ them moonstruck jaspers to keep an eye on, Miss Harwood.” With a glance encompassing Nate and the others, he raised an arm high, heeling his horse into motion. “Forward, ho.”

The flame of embarrassment burned Rose’s face. Mr. Kinyon had to have heard the trader’s comment. What must he think? Without checking behind to gauge his reaction, she nudged her mount to a walk. But the creaks and plods coming from the caravan as it started up did not muffle the low chuckle that rumbled from the frontiersman’s chest. Why, the man actually found the crude remark humorous! She pursed her lips and straightened her shoulders.

As they gained the top of the rise and started down a steep incline, it dawned on Rose that Smith—uncouth and tactless though he may be—may have bought her to be a cook, but had assumed the responsibility of being her chaperone. The smelly trader possessed at least a spark of human decency. At this, Rose nearly laughed herself. Who could have imagined that after the monotonous, predictable life she’d endured in her motherland, her world was destined to be turned upside down?

It would be awhile before Nate would be able to erase the memory of the desolation he’d detected on Miss Harwood’s face when Bob rode off to help fetch the kidnapped boy. And the leader of the group’s parting remark about praying for her safety had only made things worse. Despite her brave front, the woman had fears enough regarding her uncertain future without some stranger adding to her misery. But leave it to Smith to lighten the mood. He chuckled again.

The trader’s attempt at levity sure caught the little gal off her guard, though. Her spine went as straight as a ridgepole, and her neck turned beet red. Nate would look for an opportunity to talk to her, ease her mind a bit. She’d fare well enough if she were prepared for what might lie ahead. They’d come to the Cheat River soon, where they’d raft across the water a few at a time. There might be a chance then to allay some of her misgivings.