That had to be Dragoon’s distraction, though the explosions rang like a whole platoon of guns were being shot. He must have gathered a few other fellows to have fun, and the echo of their weapons amplified the noise. A piercing screech sounded amidst the melee—a combination of a wildcat and an Indian war cry, and maybe a wolf’s howl thrown in the mix. A shiver plunged down Riley’s spine as the scream rose higher, wailing like a dying beast.
The men loitering around the Collins sisters’ lodge had taken note too—Lazarus buried in his tomb couldn’t have missed the ruckus—and they moved toward the source. Some sprinted, while others jogged behind them. The gray-haired in the bunch only managed a quick hobble. They were out for entertainment, not trying to outrun a grizzly.
As the last men filed away, Riley took a step toward the lodge. The women would have the opening sewed shut if they knew what was good for them, but he should at least make sure they had food and clean water.
Before he could take a second step, a figure from the meadow’s edge bent low and sprinted toward the lodge’s opening. He tensed to charge forward and stop the fellow before he could invade the women’s privacy, but then a flash of the face appeared under the hat brim.
A woman. The oldest of the sisters, if he recognized her correctly. Was her name Rose?
She rounded the front of her lodge and paused at the flap long enough to speak to those inside. Though she wore pants and a man’s baggy shirt, he should’ve realized straightaway she wasn’t one of the trappers. Hers were store-bought fabric, not the buckskin leggings and tunics most of the mountain men wore in the summer.
Riley had been trapping in this mountain wilderness for three years now, and it’d been longer than that since he’d seen a real lady strolling the streets of St. Louis, but evenheknew the clothes she wore would be scandalous back East.
They made sense for function here, though they certainly showed off curves these men didn’t need to see. What had she been doing away from her sisters and the protection of their lodge? Perhaps seeking a quiet place for personal matters, though she’d been playing with fire to leave in the first place. At least she’d made it back safely.
She disappeared inside the lodge, and all was quiet around it, thanks to Dragoon. The sisters likely wouldn’t appreciate Riley’s breaking the peace. They probably would think he was just another lovesick ruffian. But he couldn’t walk away without making sure they had what they needed so they wouldn’t have to venture out in this crowd again. Etienne Provost would have seen to that last night, but just in case...
He pushed himself into a casual stride as he meandered toward their lodging. When he was a step away from their door, voices inside gave him pause. Women speaking, a sound he’d rarely heard these past few years. He’d spent a fair amount of time in one native camp or another, trading goods, swapping news, or just sharing a meal and some conversation. The braves in this land were just as good company as any trapper. But the native women didn’t often speak when there were outsiders around.
He let himself listen for a moment, soaking in the melodic cadence the fairer sex managed so well.
“The only thing he’ll take is furs? Still?” That sounded like the voice of the one who’d harangued him about that troublesome coyote. The prettiest one. Juniper.
“The man’s daft. And heartless. Or maybe he’s afraid of whoever hired him to bring the supplies out. It didn’t matter what I offered—and I really laid it on thick—he repeated those exact words like his tutor didn’t teach him to say anything else. ‘I can only trade for furs, Miss Collins. I’m afraid you’ll have to find food elsewhere.’” Her voice took on a decidedly sarcastic tone. “I thanked him for his advice and told him I’d simply stroll down to the mercantile.”
Riley’s mind tugged back to the words“didn’t matter what I offered.”Bile churned in his belly.“I really laid it on thick.”The words brought to mind the women from the saloons in the towns the cavalry would camp near. Some of them would go to great lengths to convince a man to sample their wares.
These sisters hadn’t looked likethosekind of women, but who else would traipse out here to a land where decent women didn’t dare step foot? Why hadn’t he considered that before? They’d get more business than they wanted out here. The thought made the sour taste rise up to his throat.
Yet regardless of their level of virtue, they still had to eat. And it sounded like they were in need.
Three
Though Riley still stood rooted outside the women’s lodge, he’d stopped listening to their conversation as his thoughts whirled. In truth, he’d learned far more than he wanted to.
He tapped on the thick leather. “It’s Riley Turner, the one who helped catch that coyote pup yesterday.”
All sound within ceased. Maybe he’d better state his business.
“Just came to check and see what you might need. My friend set off a distraction upriver, so your spectators are gone for a few minutes. Now is the time I can bring you food or water or such.”
The door covering wiggled, then fingers gripped its edge and created an opening just wide enough to reveal a set of eyes, a lightly freckled nose, and a refined chin.
Those striking blue eyes assessed his face, then skimmed down the length of him. They cut to the side, taking in the surroundings behind him. Then the flap closed over the opening again.
Juniper. Something about the name fit her, though he’dnever considered juniper trees to be pretty. They had a wholesome quality. Not dainty, but not large and grandiose. Miss Juniper couldn’t be wholesome though if she wasthatkind of woman. It must be her pretty face and air of innocence that drew her customers.
Her muffled voice sounded through the leather. “Itishim. And there’s no one else out there.”
A surge of something like pleasure whipped through him. These women knew him as more than simply one of the crowd. But considering their profession, maybe that wasn’t something he should rejoice in.
Through a crack in the opening, his gaze caught on a figure several steps back. Or, more accurately, his focus caught on the rifle she held.
Pointed at him.
His mouth went dry at the dark circle of the barrel. He fought the urge to edge sideways. It was good they had protection. As long as they knew how to shoot that thing. And when to keep their finger off the trigger.
Better he hurry this conversation along. “Just tell me what all you need and I’ll bring it.”
