Camping with Mr. Dragoon and Ol’ Henry as part of the group proved far different than “dry camping”—as Riley had called it—with just him on the mountainside.
Juniper’s body ached from riding hard all day, but they’d made good progress. Around noon, they’d passed the valley where they’d visited the small Peigan camp. The place was deserted now, but ashes still marked where their campfires had blazed, and the grass was cropped short where the horses had eaten.
They hadn’t seen any other people after that, but they’d spotted what Ol’ Henry calledIndian signthe last hours they’d ridden. It was basically hoofprints and dried horse droppings that looked to be a couple days old.
Now, as they sat around the low blaze of a campfire, bellies full from the deer meat and dumplings she and Lorelei had cooked, something like a contented silence settled over the group. Would they tell stories as Riley had said was a favorite pastime for mountain men in the evenings? Before that began, it might be good to ask the questionsthat had been taking shape in her mind as they set up camp.
She glanced across the fire at the three men settled there. “Does it seem likely the tracks we saw this evening are from the smaller Peigan band we met with? The leavings looked about two days old, you said, and it’s been three days since that group told us they were packing to head out. Do you think they gave us the wrong timing on purpose?”
Riley’s face took on a thoughtful look. “That’s possible, but with women and children, they’d be traveling slower than we are. They said they’d be starting late in the day too, so they might not have passed through here until two days ago.” He shrugged. “It’s also possible the tracks are from a completely different group. We won’t know for sure until we catch them.”
Rosie leaned forward. “If we push hard tomorrow, do you think we’ll reach them by the end of the day?”
He looked hesitant. “I doubt they’re moving that slow.”
Ol’ Henry sat upright, a sparkle lighting his eyes. “Reminds me of the time back in ’32 when I was trappin’ with Suttler’s group. We were campin’ on a little prairie surrounded by mountains, on our way up to the Marias for the fall season. We’d heard that a party of Bloods had set out on the warpath, so we were on the lookout. Some of our hunters found a buffalo cow that had been brought down real recent, but apparently abandoned in haste. That told us whoever’d hunted her had fled quick-like, probably runnin’ from somethin’.”
He leaned into the story, his forearms on his knees. “We set a watch that night, but nothing happened. So, the next morning, we broke camp like we’d planned to andstarted north up the river about three miles. Along the way, we found a fire still burnin’ and the remnants of another buffalo cow that had prob’ly only been killed early that morning.”
His brows drew down. “It seemed like we might be walkin’ into danger, so we took a vote about whether we should keep going or turn west and look for a plentiful lake among the mountains. Suttler was determined to winter near the Marias, though, and he wanted to stake out his claim and get settled afore the cold weather hit.”
Ol’ Henry shook his head. “The vote was split, so Suttler got to choose, an’ we pushed on. We found signs of Indians following a buffalo trail up along the margin of the river, so that made us think we were following a simple hunting party, not the Bloods on the warpath. From the tracks, we figured there weren’t more than seven or eight in the group. The hills around us were covered with herds of buffalo grazing peacefully.
“Then, all of a sudden, the thunder of a thousand hooves shook the earth. That’s a feeling you’ll never forget, the ground trembling so hard it vibrates your insides. Through a break in the mountains to the east of us, a mass of brown beasts surged like the waves of the ocean up onto a hill and along its crest. I knew in my gut what was happening.”
He shook his head. “I’d heard of buffalo jumps, but I’d never seen one till then. At the edge of the hill, a cliff dropped down, and the natives had positioned themselves on either side of the top to direct the herd over the precipice. It made my belly hurt to see all those animals jump to their death, but then a swarm of people gathered around at the base to harvest the meat and fur and all the other parts theyuse. I suspect they took in all they needed to carry them through the winter.”
The story, in all its drama and horror, might’ve cast a pall over their group, but then Ol’ Henry raised his brows at her and her sisters. “Did you see a bunch of herds on your way across the grassland? There aren’t as many these days as there once were.”
Juniper glanced at the other girls, but no one seemed ready to answer, so she turned back to him. “We saw several herds, but always from a distance. The hunters in our group supplied us with plenty of buffalo meat.” She glanced at Lorelei. Her sister had kept away from those men for the most part. She knew they had to eat, of course, but couldn’t bring herself to be part of the process.
Across the fire, Riley looked concerned as he slid a glance at Lorelei. He might realize too how the story would upset her tenderhearted sister.
He straightened and spoke to the group. “Speaking of food, that was awfully good dumplings you made tonight. Reminds me of the meal my aunt made the night before I left for the cavalry. She cooked dumplings with pork, something I’d never heard of, nor tasted since. It was awfully good, though. Have you tried it?”
Bless Riley for changing the conversation to something so benign. As Rosemary answered, Juniper sent him a grateful look, and he met her eyes with a slight tip of his mouth that showed he understood.
Of course, looking at his mouth reminded her too vividly of that kiss yesterday, and her entire body heated. They hadn’t had a chance to talk alone afterward, what with so many preparations to leave this morning and her sistersalways around. What would she say to him? He was winning her heart far too quickly, and she’d never met a man whose company she enjoyed so much.
But their worlds were so far apart. She’d committed to building the horse farm with her sisters, and even if she were at liberty to change that plan, they needed her. Faith wasn’t even of age yet, and she couldn’t leave the burden of raising her to Rosemary. Juniper simply wasn’t free to marry and abandon them.
Would Riley be willing to move East ... back to “civilization”? That idea seemed just as wrong. He loved this land, these mountains. His dreams lay in this place, and she wanted tohelphim fulfill them, not ruin his chances. Taking him away from these mountains would be selfish.
Her chest ached, and her eyes stung. She couldn’t see a happy ending here, and the thought of losing him made her want to cry. Maybe an answer would present itself if they gave the situation a little more time. For now, they could simply focus on finding Steps Right.
Weariness from the day settled over her, and her raw emotions stole the last of her strength. She straightened and managed a smile for the group. “I think it’s time to turn in, at least for me. The morning will come soon, and who knows what adventures we’ll find on the morrow.”
Twenty-Two
Riley stared at the horses in the early morning fog, counting them once more. Still only nine, if he combined horses and mules in the number. Maybe the mist was concealing one from him or muddling his mind.
There was his own gelding and mule, and Ol’ Henry’s mount and pack mare. Dragoon’s spotted pack mule too, but where was Bessie, his prize-winning mare? All four of the sisters’ horses were accounted for, but no Bessie.
As he approached the animals, his gut tightened. They’d all been here last night. He’d been the one to make sure their hobbles were secure before he’d bedded down. He moved in between them, brushing his hand down backs and letting them sniff his palms. Bessie wasn’t hiding in the middle of the pack.
He turned and looked around the valley where they’d camped. The Green River bordered on the left, and steep slopes blocked off the right and behind them. Ahead, there was a narrow path between the rocky mountainside and the river’s edge. If Bessie had managed to break her hobbles, shemight have wandered out of the valley that way. It seemed unlikely she’d leave such plentiful grazing.
He moved away from the animals and looked around the valley once more, seeking out every rock or bush she might be hiding behind. Nothing.
