Inspiration 57

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Ruth 1:16-17 Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God:

¹⁷ Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.

As I said in a previous post, lifelong commitment and love is an inspiration to me. Besides Aunt Ruth and Uncle Bill Ishee and Bruce and Diane Perry, I can think of several others--namely Lottie and Willard Boggan and Pete and Jeanette Hanna, at whose house I spent many of of teen days.

The excerpt tonight is the beginning of just such a love.

2

A Traveling Companion

Rennin pulled a leather-bound book from his saddlebag. In the flickering firelight, he read about a mystical land where men and dragons were friends. The story told how an evil sorceress, Quazel, had come to the land; and how she had turned all the people into talking animals and tried to destroy all the dragons. Then, he told the story of how Alexander O'Rourke, a very distant ancestor of Rennin and a wizard, had escaped to the mountains with a few gestating dragon eggs and how he had protected them for a new generation of dragons to be born. Rennin read how Alexander had battled wits with Quazel to protect the inhabitants of Draconis. He recited a prophecy that told of a tall man with green eyes who was left handed and related to Alexander who would come to deliver the land.

Rebekah sat up very straight and gasped. "Rennin, you are tall and have green eyes, and you are left-handed."

Rennin laughed loudly. "No, Rebekah. I'm not the one the prophet meant. His story is in the book, too."

Rennin placed a small slip of paper in the manuscript and closed it. Showing disappointment, Rebekah said, "You are stopping?"

Rennin nodded. "We must get some sleep. I'll read more tomorrow night. We have several days to travel."

Chin jutted, lips firm, Rebekah said, "I will not go to the fort or back to the Pawnee."

Rennin acknowledged her. "I understand, Rebekah. Perhaps the mission, but we will discuss it in the morning."

Rennin untied his bedroll, and Rebekah lay on the ground. He spoke with authority, "You're not sleeping in the dirt."

She questioned, "Do you wish me to share your blanket?"

"No," he said.

"You do not find me desirable?"

Flustered, Rennin said, "No. Yes. No, that's not it. Rebekah, you are not my wife. It would be wrong."

She tilted her head to the side. "Why? Is it white man's law? I owe you my life, Rennin O'Rourke. The least I can do is give you myself."

"No, it is God's law. There's another book I'll read to you as we travel, too. Perhaps it will help you understand. Rebekah, you are a beautiful woman. I will need to be strong in my convictions not to be tempted by you, but rules by which I govern my life tell me to be with anyone other than my wife is wrong. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Rennin, I do. You are a man of honor. I am grateful."

Rennin took Pierre's bedroll from his horse. "I'll use Pierre's bedroll. He has no need of it now. I'll bury the low life tomorrow morning if the coyotes don't eat him. Rebekah, you use my bedroll. Get some sleep. Good night."

Rebekah slipped under the blanket. For a long time, she watched Rennin's back on the other side of the fire. She could tell he slept from his slow even breathing. As she drifted to sleep, she thought: All of the men I have known, save Black Cloud who had also mentioned God's law, both white and Indian, would have taken advantage of me; but not this one. I will not leave him.

Rennin awoke to the smell of frying salt pork and brewing coffee. For a moment he was startled to see a woman kneeling by the fire until in an instant the events of the night before flooded his mind. He remembered that he had a body to bury, but not on an empty stomach.

It was early. The dew still lay on the ground, but the inviting smell made Rennin roll from his covers. He slipped on his boots noiselessly and approached the fire.

"Good morning, Rennin O'Rourke, Friend of Dragons."

Rennin laughed heartily. "Rebekah, I have never seen a dragon except in my dreams and occasional flights of fancy. I don't even know if these stories are true. Perhaps, they were made up by someone with a lively imagination to entertain people."

"Oh, no," said Rebekah as she shook her head. "They are true, and I am sure that if you ever go to this land called Draconis, you will be welcome there because your forefathers protected the land and saved it from certain doom. They left you a legacy."

This woman's reasoning amused Rennin. "Perhaps you're correct. It's an interesting thought. What's for breakfast? Rebekah, are those eggs? Where did you get eggs?"

"Some settlers must have lost their chickens. I know where they roost. Rennin, or I think I will give you an Indian name in case you ever need one. You will be called Friend of Dragons. We should leave soon before the Pawnee look for Black Cloud and his murderers."

Rennin ate eggs, salt pork, and biscuits Rebekah had made. He said to her, "We'll leave as soon as I bury Pierre."

She grunted. "I say let the buzzards have a good meal."

He looked at her. "I understand how you feel, but that would be wrong."

Rennin buried Pierre in a shallow grave.

When he returned to camp, the pack mule was packed, and the horses were ready except for their saddles. Rebekah informed him, "I do not know how to saddle a horse. I have never used a saddle."

He said, "I'll teach you." He did.

When they had mounted their horses, Rebekah said, "Rennin, I have made a decision about where I am to go."

"What is that, Rebekah?"

"I will go with you."

His jaw dropping, he exclaimed, "Rebekah! You have no idea where I'm going. You can't go with me."

She furrowed her brow and said, "Do not try to stop me. I will follow you if I must, but I will go with you."

Rennin dismounted. He held his hands up to the obstinate woman. "Get off the horse, Rebekah."

"Why? Are you going to tie me up and leave me here?"

"No. Get off the horse, Rebekah."

Knowing Rennin would not hurt her, she did as he asked. Rennin put his hands on her shoulders and stared at her stubbornly. She glared back defiantly.

Somehow knowing he would not win the argument, he said, "The first thing we are going to do is get you out of that buckskin."

Rebekah looked at Rennin with wide eyes. He became flustered again. "That's not what I had in mind!" He pulled a pair of pants and a shirt from Pierre's bag. He said, "Put on these. They might be a little big, but that will help to disguise you."

When Rebekah had changed clothes, Rennin twisted her hair and put it under Pierre's hat. Then he surveyed his handiwork. He sighed. "From a distance you might pass for a man; but if anyone gets close, they will see just how pretty you are. But it's the best we can do."

He stuffed the buckskin dress into Pierre's saddlebag, and the two rode west.

She said wistfully, "Maybe someday someone will consider me to be heart of his heart, though I cannot imagine a love so powerful."

Next morning was cold. Rebekah asked, "Rennin, where do you plan to winter?"

"What do you mean?" he asked. "I'm going to San Francisco."

With a knowing look and half-smirk, Rebekah asked, "Have you traveled this land this far west before?"

"No."

"Then listen to someone who has wintered ten times with the Pawnee. You cannot cross the mountains in winter. You must find shelter and wait until spring. We have, perhaps, one moon until the snows come. There is a deserted trapper's lodge about two days' journey north. They say it is haunted, but it is warm, and we can winter there. Rennin, the winters here are harsh and deadly."

"All right, Rebekah. We'll go to the lodge for the winter. I'll listen to you for you know this land better than I."

3

Refuge

The trapper's lodge was filthy and in need of repairs. For two days Rennin mended chinks in the logs and patched the roof while Rebekah cleaned and scrubbed. Thinking the place was finally livable, Rennin built a fire in the fireplace. Within minutes smoke billowed into the room. Rennin quickly put out the fire, and he and Rebekah ran out the door for air.

Rennin lay on the ground, laughing. "I can't believe I forgot the chimney." He looked at Rebekah. She was covered in soot. He laughed harder. "Do I look as badly as you?"

Rebekah gave Rennin her hand to help him up, but he pulled her down instead. She landed on top of him. He wiped smudges from her cheeks. In that instant Rennin realized his heart was pounding. He fought an overwhelming urge to kiss this woman. Rather, he fingered her braid and feather, hesitant and unsure of himself as he had never felt this way before.

Rebekah broke the spell. "Rennin, I think we could use a bath." She took her cleaned buckskin dress and walked to the nearby spring.

Rennin sat up and put his chin on his knee. Oh, God, give me strength. She's so beautiful. She's a widow. Are you trying to tell me something? How am I to spend a whole winter alone with her? I have spent almost two months with her as it is.

The next few days Rennin hunted game and salted it for preserving with the salt that had been left in the lodge and tanned the hides for furs and skins for clothing. Rebekah gathered berries and other wild fruits and dried them in the sun.

One evening in early November, Rennin came back with a large buck across his shoulders. Something was disquieting about the cabin. Rebekah usually came out to meet him, but there was no sign of her. Rennin dropped the buck on the porch and kicked the door open.

Rebekah sat on one of the low stools in the cabin. A burly, bearded, barrel-chested man rubbed greasy hands across her hair.

Rennin aimed his long rifle, ready to fire. He commanded, "Take your hands off my wife."

The grizzled mountain man growled, "Your wife? You ain't Pawnee, boy. This gal has been with the Pawnee." He lifted Rebekah's braid. "I could swear this here feather has Black Cloud's markings. You ain't Black Cloud."

Rennin held his aim. "Eyes of a Dove was once Black Cloud's woman. Black Cloud is dead. She now belongs to Friend of Dragons. You may tell whomever you meet that she is mine. Now, take your hands off her before I shoot them off."

The trapper took his hands off Rebekah and picked up his belongings. "I have wintered in this cabin many a time. I can see that I will not be here this winter. I had hoped for a little extra warmth and comfort. I apologize."  He stalked from the cabin.

Rennin closed the door and dropped the latch into its hole. Rebekah ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. She buried her face in his chest and cried tears of fear and relief.

He soothed her hair and kissed the top of her head. "Did he hurt you, Rebekah?"

She checked her tears. "No, but I was so frightened."

Rennin held her hand, and they sat by the fire. He took her marriage braid in his hand. "Rebekah, I think it is time to get rid of this. You are no longer Black Cloud's wife. The braid only betrays you to some who would harm you."

Rebekah walked away from the man's piercing green eyes. "Rennin, why did you tell that man I was your wife?"

Feeling guilty, he stared at the floor. "I thought he would be more afraid of a jealous husband than a traveling companion."

"I see," said Rebekah with a hint of disappointment. "Rennin, I must tell you something. I am Black Cloud's widow, and I will wear his braid unless I have another husband. I have been degraded enough. Rennin O'Rourke, I am with child."

Full of compassion, he whispered, "Rebekah."

"Rennin, I can only pray the child belongs to Black Cloud." She turned to face the man who had risen. "I am so afraid Bart or Pierre could be the father. What am I to do?" Her tears fell unbidden.

He pulled her into his arms. "Oh, Rebekah." He could feel his heart racing again and could stand it no longer. He held the woman's face in both his hands and turned her to look at his face. "Rebekah, remove Black Cloud's braid. Let me be your husband. Let me be this baby's father." Rennin kissed Rebekah passionately. She responded without hesitation.

With trembling fingers, Rennin removed the feather from Rebekah's hair and unwove her braid. Rebekah slipped from her buckskin dress and stood before him. Taking his hand, she placed it on her breasts and whispered, "Touch me, Rennin. I want to be your wife."

Rennin ran his fingers across Rebekah's breasts and pulled her to him, kissing her hungrily. He tore himself from her and breathlessly said, "Rebekah, please get dressed. I cannot lie with you until you are legally my wife."

Gentle hands touched taut shoulders. "By Pawnee custom, a man and woman need only agree to be bound before the girl's family. I have no family. You believe God governs your life. I agree before God now to be bound to you."

Rennin clenched the table in front of him. "Rebekah, I am not Pawnee. Oh, that I were! But if anyone asks, you are Rebekah O'Rourke. As God is my witness, you will be as soon as I can make it so."

Cover by Christopher Chambers. juroddesigns.com

Again, the way I picture Rennin and Rebekah. Just give him green eyes.