Rose's Pledge (5 page)

“Look pretty soft to me,” one commented.

“Aye,” someone else agreed. “All three of them sisters are wearin’ right fine frocks. Mayhap the lasses are more used to givin’ orders than takin’ ‘em.”

The captain let out a huff of disgust. “‘Tis true, the Harwoods come from excellent stock on t’other side of the water. To see any of ‘em put to work as mere scrubwomen would be a pure waste. This one in particular is accomplished in preparin’ tasty foods. She can put every spice ever brought to the British Isles to proper use.”

Rose found the captain’s praise of her talents a bit excessive; nevertheless, she appreciated his generous words on her behalf. Cooking indeed had been the one household duty she truly enjoyed and had never relinquished to a servant.

A shout came from the left. “Fifteen pounds. A good English cook beats any of those Frenchies hired by folks over on the Potomac. Can’t abide their runny sauces.”

“Sixteen,” another called out.

“Seventeen.”

“Eighteen.”

“Nineteen.”

Bids came in such swift succession Rose could no longer ascertain the individuals speaking. Glancing at the captain, she realized the insufferable toad was actually deriving a perverse sort of pleasure from her distress. She clamped her teeth together, determined to bear the shameful outrage with fortitude.

A wagon rolled to a stop at the edge of the crowd, and the driver, an older man with a scraggly, graying beard rose to his feet. The ill-fitting clothes on his short and squat figure looked rumpled and soiled beneath the droopy-brimmed hat he wore. His high-pitched voice rang out above the din. “Did I hear tell the lass is a good cook?”

“Aye.” Captain Durning nodded.

“I’ll gi’ ye fifty pounds fer her.”

“Sold!” The captain allowed no time for reconsideration on the part of his customer.

Rose looked at Durning, who grinned like a pirate with a newly captured treasure on this most profitable of days. When he snagged her hand and dropped down to the splintery wharf, she lost her will to resist. Meekly she followed as he pulled her toward the wagon driver ambling his way through the crowd.

Close up, the squat newcomer looked even more shabby and unkempt. His ruffled shirt bore a profusion of smudges and food stains, and he reeked of sweat and other indefinable odors. Rose could not venture a guess as to when he’d last seen a bath, if ever. The mangy, untidy ne’er-do-well was to be her owner? How would she suffer such a fate? Her throat clenched as dismay crushed her soul.

Oblivious to the obnoxious smells resonating from the wagoneer, Captain Durning grasped the man’s grubby hand and pumped it with fervor. “Come with me. I’ve a quill and ink on yon barrelhead. Once ye settle up, I’ll give ye her papers to sign.” He checked around and gestured to his other two successful buyers. “Ye men that bid on the other lasses come along, too.”

Still held in Durning’s strong grip, Rose woodenly followed the group now making their way to the barrels lining the customhouse.

Lily rushed over and hissed into her ear, “What are we to do, Rose? You cannot go with that foul man. He’s—he’s
horrid.”

Mariah whispered in her other ear, “We must not allow that disgusting creature to take you off to heaven knows where. I shall have Colin speak to the captain on your behalf.”

“Colin, is it?” Rose swung toward her sister. “And I suppose
Colin
is already addressing you by your given name as well?” She could only wonder what philandering purpose the man had in mind when he’d purchased Mariah.

The other girl’s lips drooped into a pout. “Upon my word, Rose. This is not the time for such trivial nonsense.” In a rustle of taffeta, she whirled away to join the stylish gentleman and his bay stallion.

Rose traipsed after her. She would have a word with this
Colin
while the opportunity presented itself. Catching up with her sibling, she hooked an arm about Mariah’s shoulders and stared up at the interloper. “Sir, before you sign my sister’s papers, I’ll thank you to relate exactly what duties will be expected of her in your employ.”

Not at all intimidated by her question, the bounder smiled. “To be quite truthful, Miss Harwood, I have no duties in mind for her whatsoever. But I assure you, my mother shall be most pleased at my finding someone of your sister’s refined qualities to be her companion.”

His reply stunned Rose. “You …you bought her for your mother?”

“Why, yes. Of course. Surely you didn’t think me the sort to have something else in mind for the lass.” His forehead creased in amusement.

Surely she had, and in fact, still did. “Then I’m sure you will not mind pledging to see my dear, virtuous sister placed into your mother’s watch-care before the sun sets this day. And you’ll see to her religious instruction as well?”

“Rose!” Twin spots of color sprung forth on Mariah’s indignant face, but her new master placed a staying hand on her arm and met Rose’s gaze in all candor. “You have my most solemn word, miss.”

“I thank you, sir. I shall rest easier knowing she is with trustworthy folk.” From the pocket of her skirt she withdrew a shard of lead and a scrap of paper. “Might I ask where to post my sisterly correspondence? I should hate to lose touch with one of the only two relatives I possess on this continent.”

He gave a polite nod. “To Barclay’s Bay Plantation at Alexandria. On the Virginia side of the Potomac.”

“Virginia? But isn’t that another colony? How far away is your plantation?”

“Rest easy, miss. ‘Tis within a day’s ride.” “A day’s ride?”

Mariah eased out of Rose’s grasp and turned to Mr. Barclay. “Pray sir, forgive me, but I’m afraid my sister and I have a matter of much deeper concern. We must not let that swarthy old man take her. Would you please speak to the captain? Implore him to withdraw these proceedings?”

He grimaced slightly. “My dear Mariah, the man bid fifty pounds.”

“Yes, I’m quite aware of that.” She employed her most persuasive smile. “But if you would just try.”

Colin Barclay shook his head with sad finality. “I regret to say all closing bids are final. I do find it rather astounding that one so unkempt should have that amount of ready cash. One can only wonder how he came by such funds.”

Her last flicker of hope gone, Rose assured herself that her new owner could be set to rights easily enough with a bit of soap and some hot water. Very hot water and lots of it. But Mariah? She sighed and prayed fervently that Mistress Barclay would be a most conscientious guardian to her new charge.

Impulsive, flighty Mariah, an entire day’s ride away
.

And what about Lily? To what distance might she be taken?
Not so far, dear Lord. Please, not so far
.

Leaving Mariah and Mr. Barclay, Rose approached the farmer who waited in line for his turn with Captain Durning. “Sir, I trust you live nearby?”

“The name’s John Waldon, miss. And may I express again my sincerest appreciation for your assistance.” He cast a worried glance toward the uncouth fellow leaning over Rose’s papers. “‘Tis my deepest regret I was unable to return the favor. I’ve just come from building our new house up in Pennsylvania’s Wyoming Valley. Within the week we’ll be departing Baltimore.”

“Wyoming Valley? Pennsylvania?” Rose’s chest began to tighten beneath the heaviness pressing on her spirit. She had read of vast tracts of land existing in the Americas, but she’d been told most people lived along the seaboard. “Pray, good sir, how far from here is that? I’m afraid I’m not familiar with these colonies and how they relate to each other. I must know where my sister will be living.”

The sadness she’d seen earlier when he’d mentioned his ill wife deepened. “Several days upriver, miss.” He took her hand. “I wish it were closer. But I vow to you, your sister will be kindly treated in my household, and you may consider yourself most welcome to come visit us whenever your master can spare you.”

The invitation was hardly comforting. Why had she ever agreed to allow the girls to accompany her to the colonies? Instead of beginning a new life together, the three of them were being scattered like chaff on the far winds. This was such a crucial time in their young lives, yet there’d be no seeing to her dear sisters’ spiritual instruction if they did not dwell in close proximity to herself. Mariah, in all likelihood, could easily go astray.

Why has this horrid fate befallen us, dear Lord?
“Rose Harwood.” The captain held out a plumed quill to her. “Step forward and put your name under Mr. Eustice Smith’s.”

The longest week of Rose’s life dragged slowly by on the swift, dark currents of the Potomac River. A vast array of birds, many of which Rose had never seen before, soared and swirled overhead in the bluest of skies. Others flitted among the topmost branches of the trees lining the wide banks, their cheery twitterings barely penetrating her gloomy thoughts. Why were those insignificant creatures free of earth’s constraints, while she was being carried farther into the unknown?

On either side of her, virgin forest tangled with such density she could scarcely peer more than a few feet into its growth. Strangely, as she rested atop several meal sacks in the confines of a cumbersome keelboat Mr. Smith had hired, the foliage—like great green walls, high and impenetrable—seemed almost protective, except when the feral screech of some unseen, unknown animal carried to her ears. Then the hairs on her arms stood on end.

Nevertheless, Rose resolved to remain as calm as the duck she spied floating in the shallows with a brood trailing placidly behind. Rose’s composure was one of the few things she still clung to as the rough-hewn boat distanced her from everyone dear to her.

She and Mr. Eustice Smith were not entirely alone. The man had hired another riverboat like the one she was on, each being poled upriver by a crew of five—two on each side manning the poles and one at the rudder. Purposely tuning out the annoying din of unseen peepers and tree toads whose endless chorus filled the air, Rose disregarded the good-natured chatter exchanged by the men. She preferred the solitude of her thoughts, however depressing and hopeless they might be.

After the party had taken leave of Baltimore, she had felt safe enough as they passed the array of towns and settlements speckling the region. In between, there’d been vast plantations of tobacco fields. Great manor houses overlooked the river, attesting to the prosperity of the region. She couldn’t help but wonder if Mariah would be dwelling somewhere among them.

Traffic at first seemed brisk on the busy waterway. But all too soon the river left the flatlands and began cutting through hill country. This morning she’d seen only one other string of rivercraft. The passing flatboats heading downstream were piled high with what she learned were beaver pelts. Such carnage, she mused, took place in those dark, distant woods—and all for making fashionable men’s hats.

A thunderous boom roared across the water. Rose sprang to her feet and searched in all directions as the sound echoed back and forth between the ridges framing the narrow valley.

“Nothin’ to fret about, missy.” A shabby boatman walking his jammed pole to the rear of the boat nodded toward the noise and spit a brown streak of tobacco juice in that direction. “‘Tweren’t nothin’ but a big ol’ tree sayin’ its last good-bye.”

Rose sat down again, settling her charcoal gray skirt over her ankles. “I thank you for putting my mind at ease.”

Her thanks sparked a grin from the rawboned man, his body straining as he maintained pressure on the pole. “Didn’t want ye thinkin’ a pack o’ wild Injuns was swoopin’ down on us.”

“Indians! I thought the Indians sold all their land on this side of your mountains and moved out to the west.”

“Aye,” he grunted with a glance back at her. “They did. Fer the most part.”

Rose chose not to linger on his last words or question him further, no matter how strong her curiosity. Being a lone woman among so many men, it seemed prudent to refrain from engaging them in conversation, even on the most basic of topics. From their uncommon interest in her every move, a person would think her as fascinating as Mariah.

With her sister once again on her mind, Rose had to admit it now seemed almost laughable how worried she had been that her siblings would be taken away from Baltimore. The irony that she was the one going who-knew-where was not lost on her. And after more than a week traversing this river, Rose had pressing questions for Mr. Smith—questions he seemed adept at sidestepping.

All she had learned from the evasive man was that he purchased her for the sole purpose of relieving his wife of mealtime chores—and that not out of kindness for his missus, but because he deplored the woman’s cooking. He’d been extremely closemouthed as to the actual location of their home. She’d gleaned little more from him than the knowledge that the supplies stacked high for transport were to replenish his store. The vague address she’d been able to provide her sisters at their tearful parting was to write her in care of the Virginia and Ohio Company office in Alexandria …yet was not Alexandria one of the towns they’d left behind?

As the party traveled northward, Rose could only wonder if she was anywhere near where Lily would be living. But rather than poling into the settlement, the men veered onto the river’s southern fork. There’d been no sign of civilization along the banks since. With every endless mile, Rose was being carried deeper into the wilderness.