They rode closer, but by the time they reached the first of the lodges, no one had come to greet them. In fact, most of the natives had moved either inside their homes or behind them, though enough heads peeked out to show how curious they were.
Riley raised a hand and made a sweeping gesture. “Oki.” That first word might have been in the Peigan language, or she simply didn’t hear him correctly. But then he spoke in English. “I bring white women who wish to speak with you. Is there anyone who will come talk with them?”
Juniper scanned the figures she could see. All appeared to be women, with their black hair hanging in long braids. Most wore dresses that reached just below their knees, with some type of pants underneath that.
Two figures stepped from the shadow of the lodge in the second row. Their gait was slow, like that of the aged, and when the sun shone clearly on their forms, the difference between them became apparent.
The figure on the left must be a man, hair almost fully gray, but wearing a tunic much shorter than the dress of the woman on the right. She couldn’t be much younger than he was, but her hair possessed more black than his did.
They came within a dozen strides of the horses, thenstopped. The man spoke in a gravelly voice. “I am father of Mountain Chief, leader of this band. You bring us visitors?”
The man was scanning her and her sisters, though his look seemed merely curious. Not intrusive like so many other looks they’d received since setting out with the supply wagons.
Beside her, Rosie began dismounting from her horse. These people did look peaceable. And with mostly women at home, she didn’t think there would be danger in moving closer on foot.
Juniper leaned forward and slid to the ground too. Should they take their rifles with them? That certainly wouldn’t show good faith. Their boot pistols would have to do for protection. Maybe Faith, Lorelei, and Mr. Dragoon would stay back here with the horses, keeping ready access to the rifles just in case.
Riley had already dismounted and was striding beside Rosemary, so Juniper stepped quickly to catch up as they approached the couple.
When they reached the pair, a sense of familiarity swept through her. The images her mind had formed of what the natives would look like had created a scene not too different from this. Yet now she could see the textures of the leather clothing, the deep shadows in the lines on their faces, the strands of their hair. She finally had detail to the fuzzy picture her thoughts had formed as a child.
When Rosie spoke, Juniper had to blink to focus on her sister’s words. “I’m Rosemary Collins, and these are my sisters, Juniper, Lorelei, and Faith.” She pointed to each as she said their names. “We’ve come looking for a womanour father once knew. Her name is Steps Right, and she is Peigan.”
The man looked at the woman beside him, probably his wife. Her father had always said it was hard to tell what an Indian was thinking, that they wore a solemn expression no matter what. But this fellow’s thoughts showed clearly in the confusion marking his features.
It was the woman who became hard to read. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, and the man turned back to Rosemary. “We do not know this Steps Right.”
Rosemary nodded. “May we ask the other women here?”
Several of the Peigan women had gathered a few steps behind these two, shy curiosity on their faces. But perhaps they wouldn’t speak to outsiders without permission from the chief’s parents.
Juniper offered a nod of deference to the couple. “Or if you’d rather take our question to them, we can wait. We think Steps Right is more than forty years old. We don’t know much about her other than that.”
This time it was the woman who assessed her, and Juniper met those dark eyes. They were small, though not beady. They certainly held wisdom, and maybe a bit of decisiveness. She must hold the matriarchal rule in the camp. Juniper gave her a sweet smile and waited.
At last, the elder barked something in high-low sounds toward those gathered behind her. One of the women stepped forward, shyness tipping her chin. Then the others followed with her and lined up beside this grandmother. The matriarch motioned to the women as she gave a nod to Juniper and Rosemary.
Rosie nudged Juniper’s side and murmured just loud enough for her to hear, “Ask or move over.”
Juniper stepped out of her sister’s way. Rosie would want to do the talking, and all those expectant faces had made her mouth turn dry.
Six
While her sister asked about Steps Right, Juniper focused on watching the women’s faces. There were eight of them who had lined up beside the elder, and all wore basically the same style of clothing and long black hair in braids. That was where the similarities ended.
Many were lean and well-muscled, though a few tended more toward the stockier side. One of the women was nearly a head taller than those on her left and right. Some possessed darker skin color, while three of the women were lighter even than Riley. She’d not expected each of these women to be so unique. A scan of their expressions showed their personalities were likely just as different from one another.
But each was studying Rosie with intensity. Did they all understand English? Surely someone would translate if they didn’t.
When she finished her question, the women began to murmur amongst themselves in their own language. Not a word of it sounded familiar.
At last, the tallest one took a tentative half-step forward. Her voice was soft and her words sharply accented, but she spoke English. “Not know Steps Right. There is Peigan grandmother in Gros Ventre camp.” She pointed to the north. “Past white man meeting.”
Juniper smiled to say thank you, and before she could turn to Riley to see if he heard, he murmured, “The Gros Ventre are another tribe camped north of the rendezvous.”
She nodded understanding, then looked at her sister. Was there anything else they needed to ask these women? They might not again have such an opportunity.
Riley addressed the man before she could decide. “Do you know of any other Peigan camps in this area?”
