“Amen, Son,” Samuel threw in.
Emala frowned. “You and me are havin’ words tonight when we’re alone.”
“What are you mad about now?”
“Nothin’.”
“Then why do you look fit to kick me?”
Nate couldn’t get over how much they squabbled. Emala was particular about things, and when they weren’t done to suit her, she let whomever displeased her know it. It made him appreciate Winona all the more. Oh, she lit into him now and again and nagged him on occasion, but mostly she let him do as he felt best without constantly criticizing him.
Randa clasped Nate’s hand. “You sure were wonderful, Mr. King.”
“I hardly did anything,” Nate assured her, and was puzzled when his wife grinned.
“You stood up to that buffalo as bold as could be.” Randa heaped on the praise. “The same as when you helped us against those slave hunters.”
“A man does what he has to.” Nate didn’t know what else to say. He tried to pull his hand back but she held on.
“You killed three of them to save us,” Randa gushed. “You were”—she stopped, searching for the right word—“magnificent.”
Emala snatched her daughter’s wrist. “Come on, girl.” She nearly yanked Randa off her feet. “Let’s get you back to the fire, where it’s safe.”
Nate watched them walk off and became aware that his wife was staring at him and still grinning. “What?”
“My, you are a handsome devil,” Winona said in her flawless English. She had a talent for learning languages that far surpassed his own.
“What are you talking about?”
“You do not see it, and it is right in front of your face.”
“What?”
“Is that the only word you know today?” Winona made a show of trying to remember something. “Now, let me see. What is it our daughter-in-law likes to say about men? Oh, yes.” She paused. “As blind as bats and as dumb as tree stumps.” She laughed gaily.
“Why is it,” Nate asked, “that women feel the need to talk rings around a man before they get to the point?”
“My point, dear husband, is that sweet Randa is smitten. Ever since you saved them from those slave hunters, her eyes follow you everywhere. Surely you’ve noticed?”
No, Nate hadn’t, and he decided to change the subject. “It’s too bad I didn’t kill all of them.”
“Why? Do you think the two who got away will make more trouble for the Worths?”
“I hope not. I hope they have the brains to leave well enough be. But Samuel told me there’s a bounty on their heads. Thousands of dollars. That pair might not give up.”
“What will you do if they come after us?”
“Need you ask?” Nate King said.
Chapter Three
Emala Worth would tell you she wasn’t the bravest of souls. Truth was, Emala was timid. She was scared of so many things, she had lost count. Spiders, snakes, mice, rats, mosquitoes, bees, wasps, lightning, big dogs, bulls and even cows. She was afraid of horses, too, although she was gradually getting over her fear of them after weeks of riding across the prairie.
But one thing Emala couldn’t get over, one fear she couldn’t escape, was her dread of the wilderness. There was so much to be afraid of, it was as if the Good Lord deliberately put the wilderness there just to scare people to death. Bears, wolves, cougars, hostiles, you name it, the wild haunts crawled with them. And from what the Kings told her, the mountains weren’t any better.
Buffalo were at the top of Emala’s to-be-afraid-of list. They were so big and so hairy, and those horns were like swords. It didn’t help that they had bad tempers. She couldn’t help comparing them to her husband, who was prone to lose his temper now and again.
Emala’s heart had leaped into her throat at the sight of her precious daughter being menaced by that mean bull. Of all her many fears, her greatest was that she would lose one of her children. They were everything to her. It was partly out of love for Randa that Emala agreed to flee the plantation even though her heart wasn’t in it.
Some folks would say she was crazy. They would say that being a slave was the worst thing you could be. But being a slave was all Emala ever knew. She was born into slavery, just as her mother before her. To her, their small shack and pitifully few possessions were as good as life got, and she never hankered after more.
It helped that Emala had refuge in her faith. She believed in the Lord God Almighty. She’d read the Bible completely through and was proud of the feat. When her children were little, in the evenings she would read to them to instill her love of Scripture in them.
Leaving her Bible behind when they fled had been the hardest thing Emala ever did. She missed it. She missed it terribly. And now, winding along the Platte River, she grew sad with regret. So sad, she didn’t notice when her horse acquired a shadow.
“Is something the matter?”
Emala gave a start. “Mr. King! You about scared me out of a year’s growth.”
Nate was astride his big bay, his Hawken in the crook of his elbow. “You looked fit to cry.”
“I am,” Emala confessed. She explained, ending with, “I can do without a lot of things, but I can’t do without my Scripture.”
“Maybe I can help,” Nate offered. “Remember my little library I mentioned?”
“I surely do.” Emala had always wanted to own more books but what little money she earned back on the plantation went for more important things.
“I have a Bible. In fact, I have two. One was my mother’s. I brought it back with me from my last trip to New York City. The other one I bought in St. Louis. I had a third, a Bible that belonged to my Uncle Zeke, but I lost it when some men broke into our cabin.”
“They destroyed your Bible?”
“And all my other books. It took me a long time to replace them.”
“Any man who would do that to the Word of the Lord should be burned at the stake.” Emala paused. “Your Uncle Zeke, you say? Isn’t he the one who brought you out here? He was goin’ to teach you all there was to know about livin’ in the mountains, but then he went and died on you, right?”
“Uncle Zeke was killed by the Kiowas, yes. Fortunately, a friend of his came along and became my mentor, you might say. Shakespeare McNair.” Nate gazed up the trail. “The point of all this is that I have a Bible to spare. When we reach King Valley, I’ll give it to you.”
“Oh, I couldn’t take your Bible.” Emala was genuinely shocked. She was used to whites treating her pretty much as they treated their cattle. But Nate and Winona had been kind to them from the start. The Kings bought them clothes and weapons, and, wonder of wonders, not only offered to guide them to the Rocky Mountains, but invited them to come live in the same valley.
Emala never imagined white folks could be so nice. She’d noticed that Nate never cussed, which was a miracle in itself. It was her experience that cussing came as natural to men as breathing. Even her Samuel, no matter how much she nagged him, couldn’t control his tongue.
Then there was Winona. Emala had never met an honest-to-goodness Indian woman before. Somehow, Emala got it into her head that all Indians lived for, male and female, was to lift the hair of every white—and black—they came across. But Winona was about the sweetest lady Emala ever met, and about the strongest. No so much physically strong as strong inside. Emala envied her. She would have liked to be as strong, but it just wasn’t in her.
Suddenly Emala became aware Nate was still talking.
“…sitting on the shelf gathering dust. I’d be obliged if you would reconsider.”
“It might take us forever to repay you.”