by Ward, Marsha
I swam to the riverbank, dragged her up to the top of the rise, then held her while she coughed and gagged up the water she had swallowed.
My muscles shook as I held her, retching and choking, but I thought I’d never seen a more lovely sight than the soaked, bedraggled, but live woman in my arms. We both sank to the grass and lay in an exhausted heap until one of the brothers on horseback brought up my mount and another. The man was followed by others running along the bank to see if all was well with us.
I got slowly to my feet, aided by the first man to reach us. Then I pulled Etta to her feet amid cheers from up and down the river.
Seeing that we were alive, all but the man holding our horses drifted back to the ford and their work. Etta raised her head, and her first weak words were to thank me.
I stood quivering to hear her praise, wondering where I’d gotten the strength to fight the river, remembering what a poor swimmer I’d always been. Then I knew some power not my own had aided my rescue.
Etta turned to the brother with the horses. “My baby. Is he safe?”
“Quite safe, Sister. The captain rescued your wagon, and the boy slept all the way across. He’s fussing a bit now, though. He was looking around for you.”
“Thank the Lord!”
Thank the Lord, echoed in my soul.
Etta turned to me. “I could not have wished for such a crossing, but you kept your word to get us safely to the other side.”
I helped her mount the spare horse as the other man rode off to continue his work. I took a deep breath.
“If I had my wish, I would ask that you never leave my side.” I stammered a little as I realized the enormity of my statement, but I went on, compelled to share my feelings. “When you were out of my reach in the water, I knew that if you were to die, my life would be empty.” I paused for another breath. “Etta, once you said you were fit only to be a farmer’s wife. I’m a farmer, though I’ve no land yet. When your sorrow has eased, will you be my wife?”
I looked up at her, holding fear in my hands along with my reins, knowing that her answer was the key to my future. Somewhere deep in my belly a feeling stood poised on the edge of a pinnacle, waiting for her reply. Her blue eyes gazed into my dark ones as she kept silence for a time. Then she spoke.
“You, of all the members of the company, have worked to ease my grief. Now you have saved my life. You, who were a stranger to me, I now count my dearest friend.” She stopped, suddenly self-conscious, and fussed the hair away from her face. Then she smoothed the sodden dress across the horse’s back. Last, she looked again at me, and I held my breath.
“I will wed you whenever you say, my Lije.” She smiled, and the mud on her face only made her seem a rare flower of great beauty blooming from the prairie.
I stepped into my saddle, heart pulsing hard in my throat, feeling the spread of joy I knew as belonging. We are no more strangers, I thought. I turned my horse and grinned at Etta.
“Let’s go see Joseph. Tell him he can soon call me ‘papa’.”
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Marsha Ward
About the Author
Marsha Ward is an award-winning writer and editor who has published over 900 pieces of work, including Western novels and short stories, numerous newspaper articles, and sections in books on writing. She is a member of Western Writers of America, Women Writing the West, and American Night Writers Association. Born a while ago in the sleepy little town of Phoenix, Arizona, Marsha grew up with chickens, citrus trees, and lots of room to roam. She began telling stories at a very early age, regaling neighborhood chums with her tales over homemade sugar cookies and milk. Visiting her cousins on their ranch and listening to her father's stories of homesteading in Old Mexico and in the Tucson area reinforced Marsha's love of 19th Century Western history.
After many years in the big city, Marsha now makes her home in a tiny hamlet under Central Arizona's magnificent Mogollon Rim. When she is not writing, she loves to travel, give talks, meet readers, and sign books.
Novels in The Owen Family Saga:
Gone for a Soldier
The Man from Shenandoah
Ride to Raton
Trail of Storms
Spinster’s Folly
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