Woman of Courage (Four Full length Historical Christian Romances in One Volume): Woman of Courage Series

by Cynthia Hickey

  His nephew crawled reluctantly from his shelter. “Yes, sir.”

  Zeke shook his head. “Do you realize the trouble that could’ve happened?”

  The boy met his eyes. “I could’ve taken him.”

  “I know you would’ve tried.” Zeke clapped him on the shoulder. “But as man of this family, you’ve got to look ahead. See what trouble might come up and see what you can do to prevent it. Playing cards with rough men is not safe. There’s enough danger on the trail, without going and looking for it. If you ever put one of your family members in danger again, I’ll pull you over my knee. I don’t care how big you think you are. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And what do you think you’re doing gambling in the first place? Don’t you remember what happened to your pa? Tarnation, boy!” Zeke kicked a rock at his feet. “What would you getting shot do to your ma?”

  “I’m sorry, Uncle Zeke, but I’m good at cards, and we need the money.” Junior’s chin quivered.

  “You don’t need the money. I have plenty.” He exhaled and his shoulders drooped. He wasn’t cut out to be a family man. Knowing that, only a fool would entertain notions of settling down with a woman and a quiver full of young ‘uns.

  14

  Zeke halted the train in the shadow of Chimney Rock on June fourth. Delly glanced at the nearby Platte River, the lush grass and firewood lying close at hand, and grinned. The day’s rain had slowed to a drizzle and the clouds dissipated. Things looked brighter than they had in days. A rainbow of fox glove, lark spur, and rose moss covered the ground.

  Junior announced right off his intentions to carve his name in the towering landmark and dashed off before Delly could assign him any chores.

  “Delly,” Alice called. “If you’re heading to the river, could you take Abby and Seth? Abby can get a start on my laundry. I’ll catch up to you in a few minutes.”

  “Sure. Take your time.” Delly hefted her basket of laundry, ordered Dorcas, Abby, and Seth to follow her, and set off through the tall grass, leaving Sadie to mind dinner and the babies.

  Mindful of Zeke’s warning to always keep the wagons in sight, Delly hesitated at the top of a small rise. She glanced behind her. She wouldn’t be able to see the wagons, but she could hear them. Mules brayed, oxen bellowed, dogs barked, and children laughed. She headed toward the water. “Don’t wander off, children. Stay where you can hear my voice.”

  In the distance, Junior and others brave enough to scale the face of the rock, were dark specks against its surface. Delly smiled, tucked her skirt between her legs and up into her waistband, then dragged her laundry into the river with her. Scattered along the banks, other women washed and chattered like the crickets singing in the brush. Delly relished the privacy the small rise put between her and them. Constantly surrounded by people tended to give her a headache.

  “Only I hope there won’t be too much of it when we reach Oregon. A neighbor or two not far away would be nice.” She giggled and glanced around to see whether anyone had heard her talking to herself. She spotted Alice’s basket of clothes, left untended by her daughter. If Alice didn’t arrive soon, Delly would start the wash for her. The children needed the play time.

  Using a large boulder for balance, she scrubbed one of Zeke’s shirts against the washboard, watching in satisfaction as the dirt and sweat disappeared. Like her sins. Head mistress at the orphanage often remarked as Delly grew how doing laundry was a daily application of what the Lord did for them. Washing them clean. Making each day a new beginning.

  Washing Zeke’s clothing brought him close to mind. If only Ezra had taken after his stronger, younger brother. Life might’ve been so different if Delly had married Zeke instead. Maybe a marriage of love rather than what one partner could do for the other. Would the tender kisses and warm glances continue after marriage with a man like Zeke or would the flowery words disappear like with Ezra?

  Having been orphaned at such a young age, Delly had no idea what that type of marriage was like. She got an inkling from the way Alice and Ben related to each other, but still couldn’t fathom how a man and woman reacted beneath the same roof. Did they carry on conversations? Touch each other’s hand as they passed by? Would Zeke be like that when he found that one lucky woman?

  Could Delly be that lucky woman? Probably not. Not with the way she seemed to be a thorn in Zeke’s side. He deserved someone sweeter and more ladylike.

  Would Sophia Miller be that woman? Sophia still made a point of passing their fire each night and making moon eyes at Zeke. He’d smile and nod a welcome. Did they spend time together when no one was watching? Delly slapped a pair of pants against a rock.

  Ugh. She needed to focus on her work and not what ifs. She changed directions faster than a twister.

  Delly glanced around her for sight of the children. Besides the far off murmurs of the other women, silence greeted her ears. “Dorcas? Abby?” She tossed the wet shirt into the basket and sloshed her way to shore.

  She rounded a large sage brush, gasped, and stumbled backward to the river. She lost her footing and fell, staring at the six Sioux braves staring down at her. Other than buckskin breech cloths and war paint, they wore little else. Two of them held their hands over the girls’ mouths. Delly prayed Seth had gotten away.

  The one she determined was the leader held a finger to his lips and made a cutting hand motion across his neck. Delly nodded. She understood the universal language of death. Her blood chilled. She wouldn’t have been able to talk if she’d wanted to. Nothing but cotton seemed to fill her mouth. The lead Indian waved for her to join them.

  The Indians grinned at the sight of her sloshing through the water, skirt around her waist, bloomers hampering her movement. Delly untucked her skirt.

  One of them grabbed her arm, and she yanked free. “Get your hands off me,” she hissed.

  The Indian backhanded her, knocking her to the ground, then hauled her back to her feet. He growled some words then pointed to the back of one of the Indian ponies.

  She wiped her mouth. Did they have a chance of escape or would fighting endanger the other women scattered along the river bank? Abby’s and Dorcas’s eyes were twice their size in their tear-streaked faces. Delly would have to wait for another opportunity to escape. Shenodded, and mounted. Within seconds, the braves tied her and the girls behind them on the back of Indian ponies and galloped away from the wagon train.

  An attack of trembling shook Delly hard enough to make her teeth chatter. Her face hurt where the Indian hit her. She pulled against her bindings. Stuck like a rabbit in a snare, and the hunter was approaching.

  ###

  “Mr. Williams.” Sadie stepped beside him as he groomed his horse. “Have you seen Miss Delly?”

  “No. Not since we pitched camp.” Zeke faced her. He’d found signs of Indians during his ride earlier, but they’d headed away from the camp. His heart hitched. “Did you check the river?”

  “She was doing laundry.” Sadie twisted her apron. “The clothes are there, but her and the children aren’t. Delly left me in charge of the little ones, so I stood on that rise and there ain’t a sign of none of them. She’d never leave the clothes lying in the dirt like that.”

  “No, she wouldn’t.” He dropped the brush back in his bag. Seth Johnson sprinted across the prairie toward them.

  “Injuns took them.” He fell to his knees in the dirt. “I hid…in…the bushes.”

  Luke appeared at Zeke’s right. “I found horse tracks. Unshod ones. Down by the river.”

  The news stabbed Zeke’s heart. He shouldn’t have been gone so long on his scouting trip. Please, God. He had to take control. “Sadie take Seth to his parents. Luke, do…”

  “Uncle Zeke, Indians!” Junior joined them, dirt streaking his face. He leaned over to catch his breath. “I was climbing down from the rock. I saw them take ma, Dorcas and Abby.”

  Zeke forced his legs not to give out. Chimney Rock was a mile away, and with Junior running on foo
t, the Indians could have as much as two miles or more head start. Dark was coming fast. “Luke, do you ride?”

  “Some.”

  Zeke tossed him a rifle. “Grab the first horse you see. Junior, sound the alarm, and find Hiram. Tell as many of the men to follow us as you can round up, and tell Melvin he’s in charge until I get back. We ain’t waiting.” He tossed his saddle onto his horse and tightened the girth. “Luke, try to stay up.” He mounted and kicked his horse into a gallop, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Luke was behind him.

  Luke followed, riding without a saddle, and his long legs flapping on each side of the animal. His elbows stuck out like a bird ready to take flight. If not for the direness of the situation, Zeke would’ve laughed. They started at the riverbed and followed the tracks east. Behind them, Junior clanged out the warning.

  The bell donged, ringing across the prairie as steady and powerful as the erratic beat of Zeke’s breathing and the pounding of Cyclone’s hooves. Each stretch of the horse’s long legs took Zeke that much closer to Delly. That much closer to her rescue.

  Several times the tracks vanished in the muddy waters of the Platte River or the small creeks branching out from it. Zeke glanced back and spotted the dust from the other men who trailed them. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and he groaned. The last thing they needed was rain to wash away any evidence of where the Indians had gone. “Come on. The others will have to catch up.”

  Within the hour, the heavens opened and wiped out the remaining tracks. God, we need your help. I can’t do this alone, no matter how much I think I can.

  The wind increased. Icy drops of rain slithered off his hat and down his back, leaving him as cold as the fear threatening to choke him. “No!” Zeke reined in his horse and stared into the darkening sky. This couldn’t be happening.

  He turned to Luke. “Can you ride in this?” Rain poured steadily from the brim of Zeke’s hat, obscuring his vision.

  “Yep. Hopefully them Indians will have to stop because of the girls. Hostages could slow a person down.”

  ###

  The speed of their flight kept Delly plastered against the back of the Indian in front of her. She held her breath against the musky odor of his perspiration. The rain came as a blessing, washing the smell away.

  Abby wailed above the sound of the storm. Delly turned her head to check on the two girls. The brave she held onto jerked her hands tighter around his waist. The rain plastered her hair to her face. Held close behind the man in front of her, hands tied, she endured. Closing her eyes, she prayed.

  She held herself together by sheer willpower. She had to for the sake of the girls. What did the Indians want them for? Slavery, or worse—wives? Would they be adopted into the tribe? She couldn’t allow that to happen. She’d die before letting the girls be taken as slaves.

  “Let me go.” She tugged against his restraint.

  “No.”

  “You speak English?”

  “Some.”

  “Where are you taking us?”

  “Pale face pay money and whiskey for woman.”

  A white man? Delly’s heart accelerated. Who? And what about the girls? She peered behind them, searching for a sign of rescue. The rain hid any sign of pursuit. Delly blinked back tears.

  Night fell before they stopped in a ravine. A few mesquite bushes, prickly pear, and thorn trees dotted the landscape, highlighted by the lightening. High, sloped walls rose on two sides of them. With the force of the downpour, Delly feared a flash flood. Surely the Indians were too smart to camp in place where they’d be at risk.

  The Indian untied her hands from his around him and retied them together. He slid from the horse, leaving her to manage on her own. The skin on the inside of her thighs felt as if someone had taken sandpaper to them. She fell from the horse; her legs refusing to bear her weight. The braves pointed and laughed, then shoved Dorcas and Abby down beside her.

  One of them clutched a rope and tied the children’s hands behind their backs. Another started work on a fire beneath a slight overhang.

  “Please. The girls are cold. Leave their hands free.” Delly implored her captor. “They won’t leave without me.” Although she’d beg them to.

  He shook his head and stalked away.

  The girls and she scooted beneath the meager shelter of a mesquite bush. The prickly leaves poked through the drenched fabric of Delly’s dress.

  The Indians hooted and passed around a brown bottle. Oh, Lord, is that whiskey?

  “I’m scared.” Dorcas pressed against her.

  Abby snuggled closer and sniffled. “What are they going to do with us?”

  “I don’t know.” Delly shivered. Whether from cold or fear, she wasn’t sure. Probably both. With her hands tied, she couldn’t hold the trembling children. Instead she had to content herself with their presence. No way would she increase their fear by telling them they would be sold.

  The Indians started on their second bottle before the leader approached. He pulled Delly from her shelter and to his feet before running his fingers through her hair. His gaze traveled down her body, making her self-conscious of her wet clothes. She willed herself not to shrink back. Instead she stared defiantly back at him.

  He laughed and patted her cheek sharply before returning to the fire. Delly released her pent breath. She had to get them away. They couldn’t wait on Zeke and the others to rescue them. It might be too late.

  She glanced at the girls. A bruise darkened Abby’s jaw. The ribbons had disappeared from Dorcas’s hair and a scratch marred one cheek. Both girls’ faces were streaked with tears. How long since the Indians took them? Surely, Sadie had raised the alarm by now. Tears stung the back of Delly’s throat. What had happened to dear Seth?

  Dorcas and Abby maneuvered until their heads lay in Delly’s lap. She leaned her head against the bush and watched as the Indians drank themselves into a stupor. She’d tried rubbing the rope tying her hands against the trunk, but hadn’t done anything but scrape her hands.

  A rock poked her buttock, the bark of the tree dug into her spine, and her chaffed legs stung. Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them back. Crying would not help them. She laid her head back and closed her eyes. Lord, the guidebook didn’t say a thing about what to do if captured by Indians. Do I keep my mouth shut and cooperate, or show some spunk and demand they release us?

  She swallowed against the acid churning her stomach with the details of the plan she sketched. But something needed to be done, and now, to insure the children’s safety. “Hey, you!”

  The braves glanced her way. The leader lumbered to his feet and shuffled toward her.

  “I have a trade for you.” Delly willed her lips to stop trembling.

  He stared impassively.

  “Take me and let the girls go. I’ll be your squaw. Anything you want.” After all, other Indians seemed to find her desirable as a wife, why not this one?

  Delly took a deep breath and returned his stare. She could do this. Whatever it took. She’d worry about getting herself away later.

  The Indian trailed a finger down her neck and toward the collar of her dress. Delly forced out a shuddering breath and fought not to flinch or pull away. Ice water rushed through her veins. The man grabbed the neckline of her dress.

  He laughed and shoved her aside. “Need money more. Got wife.”

  Delly curled into a ball and cried. She finally let sleep claim her.

  The next morning the sound of galloping hooves jerked her awake. Zeke! She straightened. Her heart stopped at the sight of a fancy man riding a tall roan. The pale face the Indians mentioned? The man turned. Ira Bodine. Her blood drained as Ezra’s words of warning returned.

  Bodine grinned, slid from his horse, and tossed the reins to one of the Indians.

  “What a welcome surprise, Mrs. Williams.” He removed his hat and bowed. “I expected you, but here are also two beautiful little girls.”

  “What is the meaning of this?” Delly fought to still her
trembles. The last thing she wanted was for the man to see her fear. “I demand that you release us at once.”

  “A little high and mighty, aren’t you?” His smile faded as his eyes hardened. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

  “What do you plan to do with us?”

  “Sell you, of course. Unless the wagon master is willing to trade the deed for you. But then again, my plans are grander than even that. Once the deed is in hand, the wagon master will be killed and I’ll keep you.” He nodded toward the Indians.

  “They’ll keep the two girls. Raise them as their own, or use them as slaves. It makes no difference to me.” He switched his gaze back to her. “But you, I have plans for. There are a lot of gentlemen in the west who will pay good money for a white woman with your looks. One that is unmarked and without disease. Unless, of course, I can persuade you to stick with me? I own several gaming houses. Men would come for miles around to lay gold dust at your feet. Do you sing?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll never go with you willingly.” She needed to warn Zeke somehow. He’d ride into a trap.

  He shrugged. “Then I’ll have to sell you. Pity, really. You’d be better treated with me. It’s strictly business, Mrs. Williams. Nothing personal. You can change your fate simply by saying yes, and handing over the deed.” He slapped his hat back on his head. “I’d better get this bunch moving. We’ll meet again in a safer location in a few days.” He marched to the nearest brave and woke him with a hard kick.

  Too late, Delly realized the Indians drank themselves into a stupor. She and the girls could’ve escaped in the night. But to where? And on foot?

  “Ma, I don’t want to live with the Indians.” Dorcas whispered. The two girls started to cry.