They would have all manner of scoundrels lurking night and day. White Horse’s presence might help temper things, but he was only one man. And in some cases, having an Indian around might bring more trouble than help, depending on the opinions of the fellows who came.
And what of the times like yesterday when White Horse was out with the herd? The man couldn’t be with all three women at the same time, not every minute of every day.
Tanner’s chest burned the way it often did when his body tensed, so he forced himself to breathe out. This milk would help soothe the fire that sometimes rose up into his throat, but he’d have to finish milking before he indulged.
The steady crunch of Elsa’s grazing accompanied the splash of liquid into the bucket. The cow had come from a Swedish farmer, named after the man’s mother, and she’d proved herself a hardy animal and a high producer. Exactly as Tanner had hoped.
What would Miss Lorelei have done to feed her buffalo calf had he not had Elsa? The joy shining on her face when he’d said he owned a milk cow still warmed his insides, soothing the burn in his belly almost as well as cool milk did. She was one of the comeliest women of his acquaintance.
She looked similar enough to her sisters to know at a glance they were acquainted, but so much about her stood out from them—her willowy form made all the more graceful by the fact she’d been wearing a dress every time he saw her, not men’s trousers like the others. The sweetness that nearly always marked her expression—except when she’d been telling him she and her sisters didn’t need his protection. She’d certainly shown a stubborn streak then.
He allowed himself a grin at the memory.
But then Elsa’s head rose from the grass, and he looked over his shoulder to what had drawn her attention.
His breath caught at the cluster of horses and riders approaching the front of the trading post. Their buckskins matched several of the trappers who’d come to trade, but the long black braids, some with feathers or other decorations woven in, distinguished them from his customers so far.
He gripped the bucket handle and stood in a smooth motion, keeping his shoulders set at an angle that would show both confidence and friendliness as he strode toward the newcomers. He searched for something in their appearance that would reveal what tribe they were from. No pompadours like the Crow. Nor bone necklaces or breastplates like the Sioux. These must be from a mountain tribe, which were harder to tell apart from one another.
It probably didn’t matter which tribe they were from. If they’d come to the fort, it must be to trade. That was why he’d started this business, after all. A bit of confidence and carefulness would carry him through the exchange with no problem.
When he reached the men, he stopped and greeted them in the sign language he’d learned from Provost. The factthat most of the tribes in this area understood the hand talk would certainly make trading easier. Hopefully he’d learned enough to get started and could pick up more signs as he went along.
He needed to gain a few friends among the people in this area. Men who would spread good things about him and his post, and maybe teach him what else he needed to know about trading in this land. Perhaps these men could become that for him.
All six eyed him with wariness, but then one of those in front raised a hand in the same greeting Tanner had offered. He spoke several sounds Tanner couldn’t decipher. But he pointed to a horse near the back of their group that held a pile of furs instead of a rider.
Tanner nodded and motioned for them to follow him as he started toward the front door to the trade room.
He’d managed the greeting. Now he just had to prove himself a shrewd but fair businessman.
six
Only three of the Natives dismounted and entered behind Tanner, leaving the door open wide. A glance through the frame showed the rest of the men still sitting atop their animals, and the packhorse still laden with furs. It made sense they would want to investigate the place before unloading.
He motioned around the room and formed the sign forlook. “See all I have to trade for.”
None of the men indicated whether or not they understood his words, but they spread out around the room to inspect the wares. He’d removed the lids from crates to show their contents, but he needed to build a great many more shelves and cubbies to display the goods better.
He carried the milk pail back behind the trade counter where it would be out of the way. While he watched the men, he tried to keep his posture relaxed so he wouldn’t draw their attention. Best they focus on the goods for barter.
One of the three was the fellow who’d spoken outside, a brave with two quail feathers in each braid. He lifted some of the green flannel shirts and spoke to the olderman who’d been browsing bead necklaces. The two exchanged lively banter, the leader even cracking a grin. The younger man left the stack of blankets and came over to see what they spoke of. He looked like he might not be more than twenty or so, his shoulders broad but not yet in his prime.
The three moved to a stack of hats, conversation continuing among them. At least they seemed to be enjoying themselves as they browsed. The youngster plopped one of the hats on his head and made a joke, drawing a smile from the elder. Too bad Tanner couldn’t tell if they were making fun of the merchandise or discussing how grand they would look wearing it.
As they spent another quarter hour browsing the rest of the trade goods, they began piling a stack of supplies on the ground in the center of the room. Unfortunately, he and Wally had not put in a wood floor yet. Building the fort walls, the trade room, the supply room, and his own small living quarters had been priority. He’d planned to cut logs for flooring and shelves as he had time, but that certainly hadn’t happened yet. Hopefully these men really would take the things now lying in the dirt.
The leader barked a few words to the younger man, who trotted outside. Then he turned to Tanner and motioned toward the pile that rose up nearly to his waist.
He made the sign fortrade, then pointed out the door. He wanted to exchange all these goods for the pile of furs on that horse? That could be a fair barter, depending on the type and quality of the skins and how well they’d been tanned. It looked like there’d been ten or maybe twelve larger skins and a smaller stack of beaver hides.
The man pointed again and spoke in his tongue as the younger fellow entered with an armload.
Not a full load, though.
Tanner motioned for him to place them on the counter, then he helped lay the furs out flat. He ran his hands over the top one as the fellow stepped back. This looked like a wolfskin, and the hairs were all nice and tight, with none coming out under his touch. The underside was smooth, soft, and pliable. Whoever had tanned this hide did the job well. He moved it to the side so he could examine the next. As he did, he glanced at the three men watching him. They’d not brought in any more furs.
He made the sign formore, then motioned toward the packhorse outside. The Indian in charge shook his head and pointed to the three pelts. He spoke something and made a motion, neither of which Tanner could understand.
