Perhaps they would’ve been better off if Mr. Provost had worried as much about their well-being as the others. Maybe they would have their own food to eat now.
She pushed that notion aside. They would find someone who would allow them to purchase food with coin. Perhaps even Riley, though if he refused payment again, this would be the last time she would ask.
She kept the tone of her voice strong. “Mr. Turner, doyou know of a place in the camp we can purchase food with money? Or perhaps a man who would go hunting in exchange for payment?” If it came down to it, she and Rosie could hunt. But she would have to be awfully hungry to look an animal in the eye and pull the trigger. Perhaps they could fish instead, if someone had a line they could purchase.
“I already told you our lodge has plenty of meat to share. You’re welcome to take your meals with us, or I can bring it to you to cook for yourselves. You’ve already met Ol’ Henry and Dragoon. The other man who camps with us is Jeremiah.”
“And will you accept payment in gold coin?” That was the only condition with which they could take the food. She and Rosie were committed to that requirement. They couldn’t allow a man to think he had a hold over them, or that they were in his debt. Riley didn’t seem the type to use that for his advantage, but they still barely knew him.
His jaw had tightened again, but he managed a few words. “If I have to. And only if you have it to spare.”
She nodded. “We do.”
Quiet fell again as her mind worked through the next steps in their mission and what they would need to do before then for their own upkeep. Riley had said he could take them tomorrow morning, but they shouldn’t wait that long. They only had a few days before the wagons returned east.
Every hour mattered in this search.
Seven
Juniper eyed Riley as he rode beside her. “If you wish to go with us to the Gros Ventre camp, that’s your choice. But we need to go now. Today. Our hope is to find Steps Right before the supply wagons return to the States. We can’t lose an entire afternoon.”
He shook his head. “It’s at least a half-day’s ride to that area. There’s no way we can get there and back this afternoon. Best to start out tomorrow morning. Besides, I need to do a little more trading today before all the supplies are gone. If there’s something other than meat that you and your sisters need, let me know and I’ll request it.”
Why was he taking such pains to help them? Would this be normal behavior for men back in Richmond? Perhaps. If a man were already acquainted with their family, he might step in as Riley was doing to help when he saw a need.
But out here in this wild country? Riley didn’t fit the appearance of a respectable gentleman—no tailored coat or elegantly styled hair or valet in sight. But perhaps he’d been such a man before coming west.
She slid a covert glance his way. “How long have you been a trapper?”
“About three years.”
“And where is your home?”
“Wherever I lay my bedding and build a campfire.” His tone sounded almost amused.
She pushed down a flare of frustration. “I mean where did you come from before? The States, right? Which city?”
“The States, yes, but no city. My parents had a cabin in Illinois, a few hours’ ride from St. Louis.”
A rural cabin. So he likely hadn’t ever lived a gentleman’s life. Yet the source of his manners no longer seemed as interesting as one of the words he’d spoken.
Had. His family had owned a cabin in an unsettled part of Illinois. “Where do they live now?”
“My ma has moved in with my aunt and uncle, a little house on the outskirts of Peoria. My uncle is a minister there.”
Sounded like she must be a widow, which meant Juniper shouldn’t ask about his father. Yet her curiosity about this man grew with every fact he revealed. The picture of his life that was forming in her mind wasn’t quite what she’d expected. But she could imagine him coming from those roots. The hole in the image where his father should be still glared up at her.
She had to ask, but she kept her voice as gentle and unassuming as possible. “Is your father ...?”
“Dead. Nine years ago. He was a scout and guide for government surveying parties. Took sick after he was caught in a snowstorm and never fully recovered.” His tone was matter of fact, not harsh as though he was angry or bitterabout his loss. It sounded as though his grief had matured to the point that he was able to share the information as a simple part of his past.
“That must have been hard. How old were you at the time?” And why did she feel at liberty to ask so many personal questions of this man? “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer any of this.”
He sent her a half-smile, then returned his focus ahead. “I don’t mind. People don’t often ask.”
With all these hundreds of trappers spread out through this valley, no one cared enough to inquire about Riley’s past? Perhaps they only spoke of work or weather conditions or game—or whatever else was of import for their survival in this land.
He spoke again to answer her question. “I was fourteen when we got the news that he passed.”
