Rose's Pledge by Dianna Crawford, Sally Laity Page B

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