Ah, he’d forgotten to respond to that question. The answer must be important to her, or she wouldn’t have askedagain. Though he’d expected to receive furs from nearly everyone out here, he’d take whatever these women gave if it meant ensuring they’d be customers. With as many horses as he saw grazing, they must be selling to someone back east, which meant they likely had another way to get supplies. He’d have to earn their patronage by making things convenient for them, as long as he didn’t sacrifice profit for the post. “We’re happy to trade for either, ma’am.”
“You don’t have any milk for sale, do you? Cow’s milk or anything else?” The voice called from the fence, and all of them turned to the woman in the dress. The calf stood at her side as she stroked its neck in a steady rhythm. They both studied him expectantly. The animal even let out a pitiful cry. It sounded odd for a calf, deeper and a little more strangled. Had it lost its mother? Maybe that milk cow Tanner had worked so hard to drag along had been worth the trouble after all.
“As it happens, we do have a cow who currently supplies about three gallons morning and eve. I’m planning to sell all but a quart each day.”
A smile bloomed across her face, lighting her features like a ray of sunshine. When she spoke, her voice maintained the same sweet tone, though it nearly trembled with joy. “You have milk? Oh heavens, who would have believed it? Yes, we’ll take every bit you’ll sell us. No matter the cost.”
“Lorelei.” The older sister’s voice held warning, then she spun to face him. “Your price does matter. We won’t take a drop for more than two dollars per gallon.”
Tanner fought to school his expression. That was the price back in Boston, but they couldn’t even get milk in St. Louis for that, much less this land nearly two months’travel from any city. “Ten dollars for every gallon. I couldn’t let it go for less.”
She raised her brows. “You already have the cow, and the milk will spoil if you don’t sell it. It’s not as if it costs more to feed her on this rich prairie grass than it does back in the States.”
He let the corners of his mouth tip in a friendly way as he dipped his chin to acknowledge the truth of her words. “You’re right. But I suspect there aren’t many milk cows in the area. It won’t be hard to find men willing to buy at my price.”
She snorted, but before she could answer, her sister called out. “Rosie, please.”
His attention swung to the fence before he could catch himself. The woman looked desperate, her and that little calf.
A movement closer to him shifted his focus once more. The Indian took a half step forward. “I will trade. Five horses for the cow.”
The older Miss Collins’s gaze shot to the brave, and Tanner didn’t have to look at her to feel the strength of her glare.
The other man must have felt it too, for he looked to her and attempted an explanation. “White buffalo is . . .” He seemed to be struggling for a word. “The people think have powers. Not see in many winters. Not ever sell or trade. Very . . .” Again, he struggled for a word.
“Special?” Miss Collins’s voice was gentle as she spoke to the man, and it held something much closer to respect than the tone she’d used with Tanner.
The brave’s brow still lined with uncertainty, so she spoke again. “Are there not many white buffalo in this area, then?”
He shook his head. “None. I see one when boy. No more.”
Interesting. Tanner shifted his focus to the animal gnawing at Miss Lorelei’s skirts as she continued to stroke it. So this wasn’t a calf—not of the bovine variety, anyway. And if white buffalo were so rare, perhaps they could work out an arrangement agreeable to all.
He chose his words carefully. “I didn’t realize that was a buffalo calf. It’s an orphan, I assume?” He directed the question to Miss Lorelei.
She regarded him a bit warily. “I found it near its mother, who lay dead on the plain. I’m sure he needs to eat soon.”
That seemed to be her way of saying Tanner had best get on with his suggestion. The little fellow bawled its agreement.
“Perhaps we could work something out. I’d be happy to buy the calf from you and feed him myself. Then he’d be close to the milk cow.” The bargain would save these people the markup he’d have to charge for the milk also. And he could likely buy it for cheaper now than later after they’d spent so much in feeding the animal.
“No!” Miss Lorelei and White Horse spoke at the same time, which was probably why the word sounded so much like a shout.
The man shook his head. “Not trade white buffalo. Harm come if trade.”
Tanner studied the man. The Indians wouldn’t trade it at all? Did that mean they wouldn’t trade to acquire it either? The last thing he needed was a buffalo on his hands that he’d invested a great deal in and couldn’t recoup his costs.
His gaze wandered to Miss Lorelei—a mistake. She turned those pleading eyes on him. He’d trained himself in the BostonDay Police to look past womanly wiles or manly posturing to find the truth. But he couldn’t manage to be indifferent to the desperation radiating from her.
“Perhaps we could settle somewhere in the middle. A gallon for six dollars. Would that be agreeable?”
Lorelei nodded, thankfulness evident in the release of her shoulders. “Yes. Thank you so much.”
The sound of a throat clearing from the sister in front of him brought him back to reality. He’d much rather stay lost in the sweetness of the younger sister than face this older one’s demands. She reminded him too much of Jessamine.
A reminder of his past that roiled distaste in his belly.
Yet he forced himself to face the woman dressed like a man.
