Settled again on the horse she’d ridden the day before, Rose did her best to ignore her aching thighs—which doubtless would feel added torture by day’s end. Ahead of her, Mr. Smith’s mount lumbered along, the muscles of its rump twitching, its straggly tail swishing away blackflies. The steady plodding of the horses’ hooves, along with their blowing and nickering, made time pass slowly. From time to time a break in the forest canopy overhead allowed a view of fluffy clouds floating across the expanse of blue. Colorful birds flew among the branches, and the occasional squirrel scampered up a nearby tree trunk. In other circumstances, this could be a pleasant day’s diversion from one’s daily life. Alas, these circumstances were far from that.
Rose reflected back on the panic she’d experienced at the start of the journey. No amount of praying had calmed her fears about accompanying a strange man and five Indians into deep, dark wilds filled with unidentifiable sounds. This morn, however, she had two knights in shining armor—well, not so shiny, attired in buckskin instead of hammered mail—but still, they were in attendance and hopefully would protect her from harm. She smiled thinly, feeling a bit safer.
The ache in her heart, though, she could not dismiss. How were her sisters faring? Had Mariah settled into her life at the Barclay Plantation? Did she get along with Colin Barclay’s mother? And was she remembering to act ladylike and not be a flirt?
And what of dear, sweet Lily? Had she reached her new home? Mr. Kinyon said she’d be located quite a distance from Baltimore. Was she safe now and providing the needed care for her new owner’s sickly wife? Please take care of both my sisters, Father…and please hasten the day when we’ll be together again.
The trail broadened, and Robert the Bruce Bloom moved alongside Rose on his sleek black horse. Strange, he appeared every inch as much the savage as Smith’s Indians, yet he seemed as endearing to her as her youngest brother, Tommy. With skin several shades deeper than a white man’s, his features were pleasant, his form tall, lean, and honed. Since he and Mr. Kinyon had joined the party, one or the other would ride next to her whenever space allowed, each regaling her with exploits that outshone his partner’s.
As Mr. Bloom approached, Rose planned to take charge of the conversation. His civilized ways fascinated her, and she wanted to learn more about his unusual past.
“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.