“I speak the hand talk fine. That’s the sign language all the tribes in these parts use.”
Rosie studied him for a long moment, and Juniper had to bite down harder to keep in her grin. Her sister knew how to make men sweat. She’d honed her bartering skills after Mama passed and had plenty of opportunities to sharpen them more since they’d decided to take this journey together.
She would make Mr. Turner think thrice before he did something she didn’t approve of.
At last, she gave a single tip of her chin. “Can you take us now?”
It almost looked like the edges of his mouth twitched. Like maybe he was fighting a grin too. “You ladies eat while I go trade my furs before all the good supplies are gone. Then we’ll set out.”
Four
Riley needed more men. Fellows he could trust. The entire time he was trading his furs—when he should have been focused on bartering and all the nuances of word and expression that went along with that exchange—his mind worked through how he could keep those Collins women safe.
If he could get enough friends to form a wall around them as they moved through camp, the women should be protected from the trappers, especially as the men began to imbibe the drink they’d been trading for all morning.
But in the Peigan camp ... A half-dozen trappers with rifles wouldn’t be able to hold their own against the fifty or so warriors gathered there. But he had no reason to think there would be a need for bullets.
As long as no one touched the women. Surely the braves wouldn’t try it. Or was he fooling himself?
He’d not been around at the rendezvous two years ago when the missionary wives came through. But he’d heard stories of how fascinated the natives were with the women’shair. Not so much the dark brown of Mrs. Spalding, but they’d thought Mrs. Whitman’s blond curls came straight from the sun god.
Thankfully, all four Collins sisters had darker hair, though Miss Juniper’s was lighter than the others. And her sky-blue eyes . . . How had she obtained that captivating color when her sisters’ were all brown?
His belly clenched. He’d need a whole army to protect Juniper. And if any man, Peigan or trapper or member of the British Parliament, touched her...
Yep. He needed to find lots of men he trusted.
Leading his pack mule loaded down with the supplies he’d just purchased, he stopped by the lodges of a few men he’d trapped with these past years. Neither Scruggs nor Watson were at home. At the next lodge, though, he learned Barnaby had gone to ready his horse for a race that would take place in an hour or so.
A horse race. That was one of the rendezvous pastimes the men loved most, and nearly everyone participated. Some ran their fastest horses, but most simply cheered them on and bet on the winners.
An event like that was sure to distract the trappers from the women. If they timed things right, most of the fellows would be out on the straightaway behind the lodges when he and the sisters rode down to the Peigan camp.
And the Peigan warriors would likely be up here participating in the festivities too. If he took the Collins sisters down to where that band had set up lodges, the only people they were likely to find would be the women, enjoying a few hours of leisure without warriors underfoot.
Would that be a good thing? If the women would speakwith them, they were just as likely to know if Steps Right lived among them. Native women probably enjoyed a bit of gossip just as much as ladies from the States. Peigan women wouldn’t be eager to answer questions from white men they didn’t know, but maybe with the Collins sisters along with him, they would be more willing.
For the first time since the campfire, this coming mission didn’t make dread crawl through his chest. This wasn’t hope, exactly, but... perhaps they could find a lead. He wasn’t so foolish as to think they’d find Steps Right in the first camp they visited.
As his own campfire came into view, the sight of feminine figures around it made his step catch.
He’d escorted the women back to their quarters and told them to stay there until he returned for them. He’d even offered to saddle their horses and bring them to the lodge opening, for the Peigan camp was a good three miles south and they would need to ride. But the women had insisted they needed to retrieve their animals themselves, so he’d told them he would come to take them out to the herd when he was ready.
Why were they now sitting around his cookfire, settled in and looking very much like they belonged there? Miss Lorelei even had that wild animal curled in her lap. At least Ol’ Henry sat with them, and Dragoon stood at the edge of the group too. The two could provide some protection. The former was speaking, a grin marking his features, and the rest watched him with full attention.
Riley couldn’t hear what Ol’ Henry said, but he’d stake half the supplies on Scarecrow’s pack saddle that the man was spinning a yarn. The tale might very well be true, butOl’ Henry had a way of dramatizing each part that kept the listener hanging on every word.
Riley slowed the mule so the sounds of his approach wouldn’t break the spell of Henry’s story.
“You see, ol’ Meeks had met up with that same bear before, and neither one of ’em walked away without a scratch the first time. Just one whiff of Meeks’s scent and the whole memory played clear as a hot day in the grizzly’s mind.”
Ol’ Henry leaned forward, a sign the tale was getting good. “There Meeks was, clinging to the tree, as high as a second-story window. The bear stood stock-still on the ground below, nose sniffin’ the air. Then he stood up on his back paws and lifted his eyes up into the tree branches. Meeks said he’d rather face a hundred poison arrows than the steely glare of that grizzly staring into his soul.”
A grin flashed in Ol’ Henry’s eyes. “The beast let out a roar to wake Father Abraham himself, then planted both front paws on the tree trunk and pushed. Meeks clung to the upper part as it swayed, back and forth. He’d kept hold of his rifle while he climbed, and now hugged it between him and the tree. It seemed likely the pine wouldn’t be upright much longer with the bear pushing so hard. The only way he’d survive this meeting was if he could hold on an’ get a shot too.”
Ol’ Henry paused his story to lift his cup to his mouth. His movements were painfully slow as he sipped from the drink, then let out a long, satisfied sigh.
The women all leaned in, but from his angle, Riley could only see the expressions on Juniper’s and Rosemary’s faces. The eldest sister frowned like she might want to snatch thecup from Ol’ Henry’s hands if he didn’t get on with his tale. Miss Juniper looked so hopeful. She was actually sitting on her fingertips, as though that helped her be patient. She sure was a pretty thing, the way the summer sun brightened her face and glimmered off her hair.
