Forsaking All Others (Western Vows)

by Kari Trumbo

  ~~~

  Pete searched downstream as he toed down the bank of the river. Earlier, as he’d been fishing, he’d heard voices. They were near the edge of the reservation and the cavalry would be set up along the perimeter to keep strays in. Anyone was allowed into reservation lands, but one had to be white to easily get back out. He wished he’d thought of that sooner. They could have dressed as the whiskey men did and had an easier time of it.

  Rose followed behind him, the only sound she made that of her breathing. She was not used to the constant activity of migration. Her father had kept her directly under his thumb for so long. At least she had been able to keep up so far.

  He heard the voices travel down the river again, and he held up his hand to tell Rose to stop. He listened to judge the distance. They couldn’t have been more than a quarter mile ahead. Leading the way, he directed Rose up the bank and back into the trees.

  He moved from tree to tree, keeping to the shadows. Rose learned quickly though he wished he’d had the opportunity to teach her before they’d left. She had the look of a hunted animal. He tamped down his desire to comfort her by remembering that keeping her out of the clutches of her father, roaming scouts, and cavalry, was more important now. Once they made it to safety, he could tell her how he felt. Until then, it would just be words. His father had always said love was just a word. Love was shown with action, not pretty phrases. He’d keep her safe and away from anyone who would take her from him. Then, when he’d proven his love, he could tell her.

  As they moved further down the river, the three cavalry riders came into view. Their horses drank from the river and they stood about talking, leaning on their mounts. It wouldn’t be difficult to get past them. Their bright buttons shining in the sun and unrestrained chatter would alert anyone to their presence well before they would see anyone coming upon them.

  Pete motioned Rose deeper into the trees and they moved quietly and slowly through the brush well beyond the men before moving back to the river. He stopped when he reached the cool water and filled his canteen.

  Rose knelt next him. He handed her the canteen and she drank deeply. To her credit, she did not speak. He touched her arm.

  “You did well back there. Let’s stop and eat in the trees’ cover, then keep moving.”

  ~~~

  The sun beat down on her head and the unfamiliar feeling of her hair separated in the center made her want to scratch it. Why would men want to wear it this way? It felt so unnatural. Pete spoke and she jumped at the sudden noise.

  “We need to find a container to carry our water in. Mine won’t hold enough for the both of us when we leave the river.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Her mouth went dry just thinking about running low on water.

  “I see an abandoned house ahead. I was thinking of looking there first.”

  The house ahead certainly had the look of a deserted farmstead. Where windows had once been were gaping holes, the wood had greyed, and there was no crushed grass around the place from walking.

  They reached the house and Pete motioned for her to stay put. Looking in the front window and finding it clear, he walked around to the back of the house.

  “I couldn’t see any sign that people have been here in months,” he called over his shoulder. “There’s no sound from the house. The back windows are still there. Only the front are broken. Let’s go inside.” He pushed on the door and it opened with ease.

  Inside, there were two rocking chairs next to a fireplace. The hearth looked as if people had gone out to do chores and walked away forever. Trinkets she couldn’t name sat atop the wood slab mantle covered in dust. At the center sat the one thing she could name, a book. It was thick and had the same symbol on it the Catholic nuns had on their books. A group of nuns had set up a school in their small village and had even stayed through the smallpox epidemic. They were highly respected, even if most of her people had not converted. She picked up the dusty book and held it.

  “The sisters back home always said there was hope in the pages of their book. One day, I will learn to read it.”

  “You can only take it if we find something for you to carry it in.” Pete looked around the house and found a ladder to the loft. He swung himself halfway up the ladder with little effort.

  “I’ve found the owners,” he called down from above. “They died in bed, probably sick. I don’t want to stay here too long.”

  Rose looked over the main room of the cottage, and a chill ran up her spine. She feared the sickness white men carried, especially after the death of her mother.

  On one wall hung a small cabinet. She approached it and opened the curtain to reveal its contents. Inside, she found two metal plates, two metal cups, a small kit for sewing, a tin of salt, and a canteen. She smiled, picking up the round vessel that looked almost new.

  Turning to her right, she found a small chest and opened it. Inside were incomplete pieces of clothing for a baby, other flannel and gingham, a bar of lye soap, and three washed flour sacks. She picked up one of them and deposited the book, plates, cups, and sewing kit into it. She lifted it up and down, testing its weight and finding it was already heavy when Pete walked into the room.

  “What did you find?” He looked at the full bag in her hand. She handed him the canteen instead. He took it from her and slung it over his shoulder and around his neck.

  “Good, what else?”

  She didn’t want him to think any of her choices were foolish so she looked down into the bag, but didn’t answer him. Without warning, he yanked the bag from her and she shrank back. It was the type of thing her father would have done, and the action scared her.

  He opened the bag and peered inside. “Looks good. You have an eye for necessary things.” He looked up at her and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  She couldn’t answer him. He already knew what she’d left and she couldn’t compare him to her father. That could only bring hurt. The sooner she put it behind her, the better. She attempted a smile and opened her mouth to answer then snapped it shut at the sound of an approaching horse.

  Chapter Three

  “Rose, get down!” Pete pushed her below the table where it wouldn’t be as easy to spot them from a window. She knelt and ducked her head. The horse stopped in front of the house, and a rider dismounted.

  “Maggie? Joe, you in there?” came a gravely, voice from outside. “Who’s in there?”

  She risked a glance up and saw they’d left the door open when they came in. She saw the boots and hem of a long dark coat stride through the door.

  “Joe?” The man called into the silence. “What’s going on here?” He approached the cabinet and Rose heard the soft whisper of fabric as he moved the curtain aside. He turned and Rose hazarded another glimpse up where the man stood. Their eyes met and she gasped.

  “Rose, run!” Pete shoved her away, and she stumbled for the door but stopped in her tracks when she heard the sharp click of a gun cocking.

  “What are you two doing in here? You speak English?” He looked first from one to the other.

  Pete gave her a look to stay quiet and she happily obliged. “We speak English. We thought the cabin was abandoned.”

  “The windows are broken. Did you break in here? What did you do to Joe and Maggie?” The man’s voice took on a harsh edge. He leveled the gun on Pete.

  “The windows were broken when we got here. Their bodies are in the loft. They were long dead when I found them.” Pete didn’t back down and he moved in front of Rose, despite the danger.

  “So you say.” He followed Pete with his revolver and waved it back toward the place he’d stood before. “Step away from your friend.” Pete took two steps back, but no further. She couldn’t be certain which was worse, the bear or this man. Rose took one step back and the man leveled his gun at her. Her heart raced in her chest and she covered her head with both arms.

  “Don’t hurt her. She didn’t do anything!” Pete rushed in and put his arms around her. She
hid in his chest, knowing it wouldn’t protect her from a bullet but feeling better nonetheless.

  “Her, you say? Doesn’t look like no woman.”

  “Please?” She opened her mouth for the first time and ventured a glance at the man over Pete’s strong arm. “Pete is helping me get away from my father. We’ll leave everything here and find some other way if you’ll just let us go.” She felt Pete’s arms tighten around her.

  The man contemplated her with harsh eyes. “How’d you two learn English?” It sounded more accusation than question. Rose knew Pete would never admit he was half white, though he’d loved his mother. His birth had earned him nothing but scorn back at the reservation.

  “The nuns taught us,” she answered before Pete could say a word. She handed him the sack of treasures. The stranger dumped them out on the table and he touched the wood case of the small sewing box. He sucked in his breath. His eyes lit on the Bible and he touched it.

  “Why would you want this?” He pointed to the book.

  “The nuns taught us it was a good book...I want to learn to read.” She laid her hand on Pete’s arm, her confidence building as she spoke.

  He ran his hand over the worn cover. “Joe and Maggie were my aunt and uncle. They were like parents to me after—”

  Rose waited, when he didn’t finish his thought, she ventured a guess. “Were the baby clothes for you and your wife, then?” She didn’t want to think those baby clothes were for the dead woman upstairs.

  “Baby clothes? No, not for me, though Maggie hoped I’d marry soon.” He holstered his gun and heaved a deep sigh. “I got so busy this last winter with the diphtheria outbreak, I didn’t check on them.” He braced his hands on the table and hid his head behind his brimmed hat.

  Pete let go of her but remained standing between her and the stranger. “They are in bed. We thought maybe it was sickness. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  “Name’s Morgan. If you help me bury my family, you can have the things you need. It isn’t as if they’ll need them now.” He looked directly at Pete.

  Pete stood, stared for a full minute, and then nodded his agreement.

  They found a few things to use as shovels and the men went outside to dig two large holes. Rose wandered the area nearby and found stones to put on top of the graves. Piling them near the holes as her hands got full, she searched in an increasingly wide arc to find enough to cover the graves. It would require many, and rocks big enough were scarce.

  Morgan and Pete wrapped each body in a blanket. In silence, they carried them out to the holes, made certain the remains were covered with the edges of the fabric, and lowered them into the holes.

  “Lord, I commit the bodies of Joe and Maggie Johnson to You. They were good, honest folk who tried to live right and help others to live right, too. Amen.” Morgan picked up a handful of dirt and dropped it into each hole then walked a few feet away. Pete motioned for her to help him and they both set to work filling in the holes and covering them with stones.

  Morgan walked back to the two mounds. “Now I have to decide what I can do with you two.”

  Chapter Four

  Pete watched Rose as her eyes grew wide. Good, a little healthy distrust of the white stranger was a good thing. He touched her arm to reassure her, but her rapid glance at him only served to prove she wouldn’t be calmed so easily. She never trusts me. When will she learn that I’ve always looked out for her?

  “Where are you headed?” Morgan looked at him.

  “Kansas, looking for farm or ranch work.”

  “You have experience?”

  “Some. I learn quickly.” Pete straightened his back and crossed his arms over his chest. Of course he would assume Pete knew nothing. All white men assumed so.

  “You may learn quickly, but people aren’t used to seeing Indians wandering around off the reservation without reason. If I go with you, it will mean a lot easier travels for you.”

  Pete lowered his brows into a scowl. “We can make it on our own. We knew when we left it wouldn’t be easy. Your help isn’t needed or wanted.”

  Morgan stood tall and rested his hands near his gun belt.

  “How? What is your plan? You have no food, and hardly anything in that pack. You aren’t prepared if the weather turns cold again, and it’s early enough that it still could.”

  He looked down and brushed his thumb under his nose. “I don’t blame you for running. I’ve heard the stories about what things are like on the reservation. There are a couple of newspaper men who insist we are hurting your people more than helping them, and I tend to believe them.” Morgan looked back over at the cabin. “Joe and Maggie were all I had left holding me here. Let me help you find your way.”

  Pete looked at Morgan for a moment, but his gaze was drawn to Rose. The look of fear that had been there just a short time ago was now replaced with calm, even happiness. His Rose wanted this white invader to go with them. He was so angry he wanted to spit.

  “Why do you want to help us? You were quick to accuse us of killing your family when you walked in here.”

  Morgan looked over at Rose. “It is for that very reason. Every person you meet is going to have a story. The Indian Wars weren’t that long ago, too fresh in people’s minds. The stories are still told by the fire at night. Most wouldn’t even ask questions. They would shoot first and lie if anyone asked about you later.”

  Pete balled his hands at his side. How dare he try to draw Rose in? “What you say is probably true, but you didn’t answer my question. Why do you want to help us?” Pete pointed at Morgan, then at himself.

  “Once Rose started talking and answering my questions honestly, I realized I didn’t have anything to fear from you. Most others won’t bother.”

  Pete took a minute to mull over what he’d said. Just because he didn’t like the guy didn’t make him wrong. Everything inside Pete wanted to leave Morgan behind. “If you come with us, what if I change my mind about where we’re going?”

  “I may not stay with you if you decide to go somewhere I know I can’t find work, but it’s your choice. You’re free.”

  “Free,” Rose whispered, drawing the attention of both men. She smiled and looked down. “I’ve never been called free before.”

  Morgan smiled and stepped toward her. Pete wanted to punch him in the face.

  “Well, it won’t feel like freedom for a while, but I’ll do my best to find you somewhere you can live happy lives together.”

  He held back. If Morgan thought they were together, maybe he would leave Rose alone. She gave him a quizzical glance, but he wouldn’t be baited into correcting Morgan.

  “First thing we need to talk about is how you look.” Morgan frowned at both of them. “If we cut your hair, you could almost pass for a white man.”

  Pete jumped at Morgan and drew his knife. She lunged at him, grabbing his arm. The fool would pay for insulting him like that.

  “Pete! He didn’t mean any disrespect!” Rose only reached to Pete’s chest and she held his arm with both of her own.

  “I am no white man.” He growled at Morgan, ignoring Rose.

  Morgan stared at Pete. “I never said you were. But right now, making you look like a white man could save your life. Are you ready to listen?”

  Pete replied by putting away the knife. Rose let go, backed away, and waited.

  “If we cut your hair to the same length as mine, get you some clothes from Joe, and his boots, it would look as if you worked in the sun.”

  Rose looked up at him with those beautiful almond-shaped eyes. “Pete, I think he’s right. You had to endure so much, but you will have to endure so much more if you don’t do this.” She reached for him and he yanked away from her.

  He could feel the blood pumping in his temples, the rushing sound filling his ears. “You would have me give up my heritage...for safety?”

  Rose reached for his braid then stopped. “No one is asking you to give up who you are. It will grow back.”


  “No.” He grabbed a hat from the peg near the door, put the braids up in it and adjusted it low on his head to hide his hairline. “I’ll wear your clothes and boots if I must, but I won’t cut my hair.” He looked at them from below the rim of the hat.

  Morgan shook his head. “You look more like a stage coach robber than a man trying to go unseen. You look as if you have something to hide.”

  He looked at Rose. “There are some clothes for a woman upstairs. Maggie didn’t have much and I think she was taller than you, but you may find something that works.” He nodded to the ladder.

  ~~~

  Rose didn’t say a word as she climbed her way to the loft. The bed still sat there, dark stains where the bodies had lain for so long. Thankfully, they hadn’t had much heat this early in the spring, so the bodies had remained largely frozen. If they had come in the summer, the smell would have been more than she could bear.

  She was glad to be rid of her brother’s pants. They had chafed in places she dared not mention. A blue dress hung on a peg on the right side of the bed. She suspected white women wore more than just the dress though.

  A small chest lay at the end of the bed and she opened it to reveal bloomers, petticoats, and chemises. She soon figured out how each item went on and slipped the dress over her head, but she couldn’t figure out how anyone could do buttons in the back without help. She buttoned as many as she was able and then slipped on the black half boots which sat next to the bed. They were too big, but she found if she wrapped her feet in cloth they would not slip. She fastened the buttons on the boots and descended the ladder to the waiting men.

  Morgan stifled a laugh. “You’ve never done that before, have you?”

  Her face flamed hot. “Of course not.”

  “Pete, help your wife.” His eyes twinkled and one side of his mouth seemed to raise of its own accord, though he kept trying to stop, finally wiping his hand down his face and turning his back to them.

  Pete took her arm and spun her around, deftly fastening all the buttons on the dress. He avoided touching her. “Confounded clothes that take longer to put on than necessary. How are you going to walk in all those layers, and what did you do to your feet?”