by Kari Trumbo
“Now, let’s get back to your man.”
Rose gasped. Pete. He would be in a fine temper by the time they got back.
Chapter Five
“He isn’t my husband.” She took the reins he handed her.
“You’re traveling...alone with a man who isn’t your husband?” He put his foot in the stirrup of his horse and mounted with ease.
“It would be a lot to share with someone I don’t know.” She paused to gather her thoughts. “Pete is a good man. He’s saved my life. More times than I’ll ever be able to tell.”
Morgan slowed his horse in pace with hers. “Well, then, he’s a better man than I gave him credit for. He still has a long way to go. The boy’s got some pride and temper.”
Rose shook her head. “Think what you will. He is who he is. I’m more concerned that he may not even be there when we get back.” She sucked her breath in. “I don’t think he really wanted to leave with me, and since you offered to take me...why should he go?”
Morgan didn’t speak for a minute. “He may not treat you very well, but he looks out for you like I used to look out for my sisters. I saw how he reacted when I pointed my gun at you.”
Rose didn’t want to argue. It took too much concentration and she needed every ounce she could spare to keep from falling sideways off the horse. She couldn’t reach the stirrups so she had to flex her leg muscles tight to the sides of the horse’s flank to keep her seat. Thankfully, it was only a short ride back out to the cabin.
Rose was jostled and sore. She hadn’t eaten since the fish that morning and a confrontation with Pete was looming. That much seemed obvious. She looked up as they closed the gap on the cabin. Pete stood in front of it with his arms crossed over his chest, his feet planted at shoulder width. He may not have the terrifying presence her father had, but she still would rather have him on her side than against her. He walked toward her as she reined the horse to a stop.
Lifting her off the beast with ease, he planted her next to him. His hands on her waist made her stomach flutter, and she couldn’t look into his eyes.
“Did you enjoy your first ride?” His muffled voice made her feel like no one else was in the whole world but them. He didn’t let her go. Her hands rested on the top of his forearms, the muscles there tensed at her touch.
“No, the saddle was made for a man.” She looked down, between their bodies. The heat from his hands seemed to fan out.
“We’ll find a way for you to ride.”
Rose’s head shot up to meet his gaze. “Now you want me to ride?” Her eyes narrowed at him, pinning him to the spot.
“Whether I agree or not, you will have to ride. This whole trip is about you. We can’t leave you behind.”
Pete confounded her. How could he go from agonizing and cruel to humble and friendly?
“Is that your way of admitting Morgan was right?”
He let her go and turned away from her. She noted he’d already removed the boots he had on earlier for the more comfortable leather moccasins.
“If Morgan is so wonderful, you can ride with him.” Pete threw the words at her and walked back into the cabin.
Morgan approached and took the reins from her, tying the horse by the front door. “You’ll stay here tonight. Eat. Get a good night’s sleep. Then, we’ll start fresh in the morning. I’m going back to my house to get what I need. Keep the horse tied. I’ll be back about an hour after sunup.”
“You’re leaving?” she squeaked.
“Yes. There isn’t enough room here and I have to get my bedroll and a few things. I won’t have any other time to do it.”
“But—” How could he ruffle Pete’s feathers and then leave her here alone to deal with him?
“There should be food in the house for you tonight. If not, use some of the provisions Lucy gave you.” He shot a glance at the cabin. “Get whatever it is you and Pete need to work out figured out tonight. If he can’t act like a man, I’ll leave him behind.” He reined his horse back toward town and was gone before she could ask more.
Walking into the house, the smell of smoked meat traveled over her senses. Her mouth watered and she searched for the source. She found a tin bucket with holes in the bottom suspended low over coals, drying the meat. She peeked in the bucket and saw many thin strips of meat. It was, in fact about half done.
She opened a small cupboard near the stove and found a flint to light the kitchen stove. To the right of the cupboard she found kindling. Picking up both of them, she worked to get a small fire lit. She fed the fire more wood as it grew and looked for stored food. She tripped over a rug and under it found a metal loop attached to a square cut in the floor. She pulled on the loop to see what it was. It opened up into darkness down into a hole. What it was used for could not be seen from above. She could only see down a few feet.
Rose lit a kerosene lamp and carried it down the ladder. The lamp was heavy and awkward. Reaching the bottom, she turned to spread the light on the small cellar.
Barrels of something lined the back. Along either wall, rows of crocks and crates provided food storage. It was an indoor root cellar. She looked at the crocks and found brined pickles and other pickled garden produce. In the crates, she spotted root vegetables which had to have been collected last fall, as they were not going soft yet.
She picked up her skirts and gathered them like a basket. Inside, she placed a few potatoes, rutabagas, carrots, and turnips. If Pete had set aside any of the meat he’d started drying, they could add it to the stew she had planned, but this should provide a hearty meal even if he hadn’t.
She took her find up the ladder first. Then, careful not to break the lamp, she slowly climbed the ladder to find Pete waiting for her.
“What’d you find down there?” He looked her up and down, and her cheeks flamed.
“Dinner.” She showed him the food on the table. “At least the vegetable portion of it. I didn’t check the crocks for meat and I didn’t see any dried down there.”
He pointed to a bowl covered with a towel. “Meat for your dinner.” He turned and went outside.
How she wanted to rush after and slam the door shut behind him. How had she never noticed his behavior? Had he always acted this way? She rifled through her root vegetables, placing them into a large wooden bowl. Pumping the water until it ran well, she collected enough to wash them off. They had been stored in the dirt they’d been dug up in to retain moisture, and it had worked. She located a knife and sat to peel them.
Pete returned and sat in one of the rocking chairs and stared at her as she worked. His gaze unnerved her. She needed to think of a way to get his scrutiny anywhere but on her.
Pete squinted at her and leaned back in his chair. “You seem comfortable in the white man’s dwelling.”
“I often hid with the nuns when...I was scared. The four walls are a comfort to me.” She looked up from her chopping. “I know you don’t want to stay. You can always go back.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, you think I can go back?” He sat forward in his chair. “As if your father couldn’t figure out it was me who helped you? We’ve been gone for a whole day and no one else is missing, or did you forget that little bit? Your father might be happy to be rid of you, but the tribe is still on his side. They would probably skin me alive. So quickly you forget everything I’ve done for you as soon as that white man showed up.”
“Stop.” Her heart ached and she slammed the knife down on the table. Why couldn’t he see how much she cared for him, had always cared for him? “I don’t want him any more than I want you right now. You’re both being prideful fools.”
He slammed his hands down on the arms of the chair. “Is that so? Why were you so quick to go with him today?” His face turned smug and he leaned back in the chair.
She stared back at him. “I wasn’t about to stay here and see your mood when you got up after he laid you out. You haven’t exactly been the easiest to get along with since we left.”
“If y
ou haven’t noticed, I’ve been protecting you.” His breath came faster than usual. “He pointed a gun at you, yet you can’t be bothered to even stay here to make sure I’m not hurt.”
“It would take more than one punch to keep you down long. You’ve taken more of a beating back home and still chased the little brutes back to their mothers.”
It all came down to his pride. He was hurt she’d left him sitting there, and she’d let Morgan defend her. If it bothered him that much, he should learn from Morgan how to treat her...well, some of the time.
“Where’s your little defender tonight?” He turned his head to look out the window.
Rose picked her knife back up and went back to cutting. “He isn’t here. He went back home to get his things. We are to stay here, and he’ll join us tomorrow morning.”
“Maybe we won’t be here.” He looked back at her.
“I will be.” She carried the veggies to the boiling pot and put them in the water. She put the rabbit pieces in the pot as well, but didn’t turn back toward Pete.
He approached her from behind. “Why do we have to take him with us? Why do you want him near you so bad?”
She moved away from him. “He’ll make sure we don’t have trouble...and maybe he’d teach me to read.” Her hand shook at the thought that Pete could ruin the whole plan.
“You really think he will? You think he is going to teach someone he thought of as a savage...to read? Someone he pointed a gun at because he thought the worst of you right away?” He reached for her arm. “Haven’t you been hurt enough? How can you trust what anyone says or promises you? The only one who has ever kept their promises to you...is me.” He touched her arm and she moved on the other side of the table.
He was right, of course. But if she never trusted anyone but him, how could she ever truly live? He had all but turned on her, and while life was better with Pete than with her father, she still didn’t feel free.
He came up behind her and turned her around to face him. A tear escaped the confines of her lashes and rolled down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb, and she closed her eyes at his tenderness.
“Why do you cry, Rose-Petal?” He was too close for her to form words. His hand lingered on her neck and she thought he would pull her close for a kiss. She couldn’t let him do that. He’d been too cold, too cruel. She flung her head out of his grasp and turned away from him.
“The stew is almost done,” she whispered, beyond the lump lodged in her throat.
Chapter Six
Pete strode back and forth in front of the small cabin, his thoughts hot enough to light the tinder house ablaze. He’d cared for Rose for years, yet as soon as another man showed up, she ignored him and left. With him.
The path in front of the house wore down as he trudged, smelling the dinner she cooked... his dinner. She had him bulled, though. She was the reason for this whole trip and if she wouldn’t leave without Morgan, he had no choice. How could he prove his worth to her, make her see him as a man, with the white man protecting them? At every opportunity he was made to look a fool.
If only she wouldn’t listen to that man, she would still be the same Rose as always. The one who turned to him when life treated her wrong, and it certainly had. He’d given up everything for her, and she’d walked away at the first sign of trouble.
Pete dropped cross-legged in the path he’d worn down and put his head into his hands. The leather pouch around his neck fell forward and the smell of flowers wafted up to his nose. He had no idea what the medicine man had put in that pouch, and he wouldn’t look either, but the scent calmed him.
He stood, tucking the pouch back into his shirt, and went inside. Rose set the table with the plates she’d found that morning. She spooned the stew onto each one then looked at him.
He wanted to stay angry with her, but he just couldn’t. She was Rose, the only person he’d ever loved, and if he had to let her go to prove it, he would.
“Smells good. Can I join you?” He tried to keep his voice as even as possible.
“I made it for us, so I would hope you don’t expect me to eat all of it.” She turned to get him some water and he sat down. He looked over the small home, really one large room with a kitchen on one end and a fireplace with rockers on the other. Where would they sleep tonight? At least they wouldn’t have to worry about bears.
~~~
Rose rolled up her bed and put it in Pete’s pack. She carried the lamp down to the cellar one last time and packed as many of the root vegetables as she could carry, which wasn’t much. She added them, with the dried rabbit, to the provisions from Lucy. Pete and Morgan would have to hunt for more meat, but they wouldn’t starve.
With three riders and only two horses, they would have to pack the food on the horse she wouldn’t be on. It would be a heavy load for both, and they would have to go slowly. She tied her sack of plates and the rations with a length of rope. They’d need to balance the two sacks on the back of one horse.
Pete came down the ladder, his every movement angry and jerky. Avoiding him, she went outside to the horse. She’d decided last night she would ride with Morgan, not Pete. As she attempted to arrange the sacks on the back of the horse, she realized there was no way to secure them to the saddle. It was best left for Pete and Morgan to figure out. At least they couldn’t put her on the back of Pete’s horse with those sacks in the way.
She turned to see Morgan riding in the distance and she waited for him. The morning was not particularly warm, but it wasn’t cozy in the cabin, either. He rode to where she stood and dismounted.
“Are you and Pete ready?”
“I am. Pete is eating.” He cut her words off with a curt nod and went for the other horse.
“What’s all this?” He lifted one sack a few inches.
“Food. I thought we might need it.” She rushed, wanting his approval.
“Good thinking. At least I can count on one of you two. Did you and Pete figure everything out last night?”
“We figured out I’m riding with you.” She put her hands on her hips.
Morgan sighed and looked at the ground. “I’ll take that as a no. Guess it’s fine. Not much I can do about it. Go tell him we’re leaving. I’ll get these secured.”
She dashed into the house, eager to get on the horses where talking would be difficult at best.
“Morgan is here. You need to finish so we can go.”
He looked up at her, his eyes dark and angry. “Don’t order me around. I don’t take orders from women, not even you.”
She’d reached the end of her rope and it was about time he knew it. “Then don’t take orders from me. Do your own dishes, and catch up if you can.” She turned on her heel, slamming the door behind her and leaving him there. Let him figure out if she were serious or not.
Marching back out to Morgan, she scowled up at him. “I’m ready. Whether he is or not, I don’t care.”
“You don’t mean that and you know it.” Morgan raised his eyebrows at her. “You’d much rather be riding with him. It’s just he doesn’t know how to deal with a little competition is all.”
She put her hands on her hips. “I’m glad you’re so sure after meeting me just yesterday that you know how I feel. I’m even more surprised that you think you know Pete, since you’ve been near him hardly at all. I am ready to go.” She raised her voice with each word.
“All right.” He put his hands up in surrender. “It isn’t as if we’re going to get along anyway.”
He lifted her with little effort to the front of his saddle. Thankfully, he’d changed to one without a saddle horn. Climbing up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her. She sat aside in front.
“Pete,” he yelled in a clipped voice, “we’re headed west. You won’t be far behind. Rose is in a hurry to get started.”
He chuckled softly. Rose blushed, knowing Pete would be angry. His laughter rumbled in his chest against her shoulder. She tried to scoot away from him, but he pulled her back into
him.
“Sorry if this isn’t comfy, but if you sit further ahead, you’ll be on Sam’s neck. He has enough to carry as it is.”
Her cheeks burned all the way up to her forehead and down her neck. While Morgan was solidly built and strong, having his arms around her made her uncomfortable. It wasn’t fear of his touch, but embarrassment at being in his arms. Perhaps the back of Pete’s horse wouldn’t have been so terrible. This seat hurt her legs less than riding behind, but it was by no means comfy.
After countless clumps of trees and small streams, she wondered where Pete might be. Looking behind was impossible within Morgan’s arms. Pete hadn’t caught up yet that she could see. Rose looked up at Morgan.
“Do you think we should stop and wait for him?” She shielded her face from the sun.
“So now you admit you’re worried about Pete?” He smiled down at her. “It’s time for our lunch. We have this small stream to let the horses drink, and we can find something to eat while we wait for him to catch up.”
He dismounted then lifted her down. His hands didn’t linger on her waist as Pete’s usually did, and she found she didn’t want them to.
Morgan had packed some jerky and offered her a bit. She took it and sat with her legs spread in front of her to stretch the soreness from her muscles. A long trip was not the way to learn to ride. Of that, she was now certain.
Motioning her to come over by the river, he waited, looking like he’d found a treasure. She approached the water tentatively. It had terrified her for many years. He held a long stick in his hand, making indentations with it in a sandbar.
“Remember I told you I would teach you to read? While we wait is as good a time to start as any. These are the first ten letters of the alphabet.” He handed her the stick. “Can you make the same shapes?”
She took the stick from him, avoiding the water with even her dress. Try as she might, she couldn’t control the long stick enough to make the proper shapes. They looked a mess and she threw the stick into the water in anger and frustration.
