Free Courting Morrow Little: A Novel by Laura Frantz Page A

being so winded. The
river was no longer blue but black, more enemy than friend. A
fierce current lashed her legs and pulled at her. Eyes wide-open,
she went down. In seconds the enormity of her predicament
washed over her. Oh, Pa!Pa! Where are you? Till now he'd always
been near when she needed him. The thought of him all alone,
buckled with the weight of another loss, deepened the darkness.
Panic forced the last bit of air out of her lungs and she thrashed
about wildly in the water. But the world beneath was cold as
winter and seemed to pin her beneath its weight.
    Weary, she stopped struggling. Memories of Ma surrounded
her, warming her, easing her panic. Welcoming her home. For one
fleeting moment she could see Euphemia just as she'd been back
then-fair hair, mouth like a rosebud, eyes like blue buttons.
    I'm dying... Lord, help me!
    But there was no flash of light, no miraculous parting of the
waters. She let go then, of her life and her breath, eyes shut
against the darkness. Once she surrendered, she felt someone
else fighting for her. Arms like hanks of rope encircled her, tugging her upward, freeing her from the current. When she opened
her eyes, she thought she was dreaming. A man had hold of her,
and she was floating on top of the water, choking and gasping,
the thin muslin of her shift hovering around her as he swam
her to shore.

    He laid her on the bank, the sand a welcome bed. He bent
over, chest heaving, hands on his knees, his dark form dripping
water. It rained down on her, and she stared up into the last face
she expected to see.
    Surrounded by the Enemy's son.
    Rolling over, she did the most unladylike thing she knew.
She threw up all her supper, and a bucket of water, besides. He
crouched next to her, his face clouded with concern. "Lie still
till all the water's gone-and you can breathe again:"
    Shutting her eyes, she took a deep, shuddering breath and
obeyed. But her mind reeled in confusion. The rich precision
of his words, his tawny features, and the clothing that was a
confusing medley of both Indian and white made her all the
more wary. Who was he? Looking at him now, she saw things
she'd not noticed before. His eyes ... were they golden brown?
Almost amber?
    "You shouldn't come here alone;' he said tersely. "There's
trouble upriver"
    She tried to sit up, but he pushed her back. He gathered up
her clothes and hair ribbon farther down the bank before picking her up like she was little more than a corn-husk doll. She
lay limp in his arms, feeling his grace of movement despite the
burden of her wet body. The lights of the cabin came into view,
and he climbed the steps, thrusting open the cabin door with
one moccasin.
    Pa's chair overturned with a thud as he stood. Before he said
a word, she could sense his shock. Her unlikely rescuer stood
her gently on her feet, his bulk supporting her while she faced
her father and his. Surrounded obviously surmised what had
happened in one sweep, but Pa struggled to make sense of the
poignant silence.
    "Daughter ... did you nearly drown?" He came forward, eyes
wet.

    "I ... I .." Her teeth were chattering now, not from the cold
but from sheer emotion.
    Face ashen, Pa eased her into a chair by the hearth, wrapping a blanket around her shaking shoulders. She wanted to
cry-out of thankfulness and relief. Perhaps this was how the
chief had felt when they'd saved his son. And now his son had
saved her. The debt was paid in full. Each of them seemed to be
thinking the same thing at once, the silence brimming despite
their speechlessness.
    Pa cleared his throat and went to the corner cupboard for
a jug, then poured himself some whiskey. He offered it to the
Indians, who declined, and then downed it in one gulp. Morrow's
eyes widened at the sight. She glanced at the man who'd saved
her life and was now dripping water onto the plank floor, his
wet buckskins darkened to black. But he wasn't looking at her.
He kept a wary