Rose's Pledge by Dianna Crawford & Sally Laity

Author:Dianna Crawford & Sally Laity [Crawford, Dianna & Laity, Sally]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Christian, Romance
ISBN: 9781607427483
Google: vP0xAgAAQBAJ
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Incorporated
Published: 2012-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Rose chose a small knoll just out of sight of the Shawnee village where she felt Hannah would finally rest in peace. Mr. Smith had Running Wolf and Spotted Elk dig the grave in a spot shaded by a towering maple tree, and the two lowered her body, wrapped in a clean blanket, into the ground. Rose held Jenny close as she and the trader watched the braves fill in the gaping hole. Then Rose placed the few late wildflowers she’d found nearby atop the mound of fresh earth.

After the two Indians walked away, Mr. Smith pulled a thin book from inside his belted shirt and exhaled as he opened the worn volume. His high-pitched voice broke the silence as he began reading. “‘Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.’ “Rose recognized the familiar passage from the apostle John’s writings and looked up at the trader while he finished. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

Astonished that the man actually had a New Testament in his possession and made sure Jenny’s mother had a Christian burial, Rose tried not to let her surprise show.

Mr. Smith reached out with his gnarled hand and ruffled Jenny’s silky hair. “We should bow fer a word o’ prayer.” He cleared his throat. “Almighty God, Ya know what took place here that put this young gal in an early grave. Ya say in Yer Word that vengeance is Yourn, an’ I guess we have to leave it at that. I know Yer lookin’ after her, an’ we’ll do our best to look after the little one she left behind. Amen.”

Touched by the heartfelt prayer, Rose raised her head …only to be assaulted by laughter a short distance away. This unfortunate white woman died because no Indian deigned to tend her wounds, and these people found humor in something so despicable?

She swung toward the noise and saw three native girls about the same ages as her sisters playing some sort of game. Each had a short-handled paddle of sorts and repeatedly hit into the air what looked like a small ball with a tail of feathers.

Rose wiped perspiration from her brow and relaxed. At least the girls hadn’t been laughing at the death of Hannah Wright. Nevertheless, it irked her that life in the village went on as usual. As she and Mr. Smith returned to the trading post, she could see older women seated in front of their wigwams weaving reeds into baskets or stitching leather. Another kneaded a lump of clay. A few collected vegetables in their gardens, while some of the men stood in the river casting nets for fish. Not far from them, youngsters splashed about in the shallows near the bank. No one cared a whit about the fact they’d caused mortal injury to an unprotected woman—an innocent baby’s mother—and then allowed her to die an unspeakable death.

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