Tanner added a hint of a conciliatory lift to his mouth. “I won’t charge you more than the powder and bullets are worth. You’ll have furs left over for the rendezvous and can get the rest of what you need then. We’ve so many people come through here, I’ve had to ration things. I’m sure you can well believe that.”
The man’s nostrils flared, and underneath that mass of scraggly beard, his jaw looked to be locked solid. He stared hard at Tanner for a long moment, but Tanner did not look away. He’d not give this man the power to rile him.
Finally, the fellow gave the appearance of softening. “I wasn’t needin’ them for myself. We’re headed across the mountains to the Nez Perce and Salish, and those folks are always eager for trade goods like rifles an’ beads an’ colored fabric. Anythin’ they can’t make themselves. I’ll pay you a fair trade for more guns.”
Tanner did his best to keep a glare out of his expression. “Like I said, we have barely enough for the people who come in here to trade. It’s not easy hauling it up from St. Louis.” Let the man gather his own supply train if he wanted to become a trader.
The man’s mouth pinched as he turned to his bald companion. “Quigley, tell Anderson to only bring in ten hides from those buffalo cows. Then the two of you load up the powder and shot. Be quick about it.”
As that man disappeared out the door, the boss turned back to Tanner. “I’ll see that rifle now. You’ll find those hides more than fair trade for what little you’re offering.”
Nothing in Tanner’s gut liked this man, nor trusted him. The last thing he wanted was to show him where he kept a few rifles behind the counter. His main stock stayed in the hidden compartment in the storage room, but each morning he brought out enough for that day.
Ten quality buffalo pelts would be an even exchange for what this man offered, but how could he distract the stranger while he pulled out the gun?
He motioned to the boxes of beads. “You might want to peruse the trade goods while I go bring the rifle.”
The man slid a look where Tanner pointed, then ambled that direction.
Just to throw him off the scent, Tanner moved to the back corner where he piled the furs he traded each day before he moved them to the storage room at night. This corner was dark enough that the fellow wouldn’t be able to see exactly what he was doing.
After pretending to reach for a rifle, he kept his back mostly turned to the man as he moved quickly to the counter, slipped a Hawken off the stack, and laid it atop the counter. “This is the latest model Hawken makes, and you’ll find the accuracy superior to anything you’ve shot before, even at long range.”
The man turned back to him, his gaze honed on the rifle.As he strode to the counter, his two sidekicks carried in armloads of furs.
The exchange didn’t take long, as the buffalo hides were decent quality and had been handled reasonably well. The leader, who one of the men called Purcey, softened his manner a little, though he still eyed Tanner with a hard look.
Finally, the group left, and Tanner stepped to the door to watch them mount up. The last thing they needed was for those three to catch sight of the buffalo calf and cause more trouble.
But the men rode westward, skirting the Sioux village on their way into the heart of the mountains.
The knot in his gut finally eased. Now he could turn his attention to what really mattered. Preparing his surprise for the morrow.
Even before she opened her eyes, the sense of something wonderful crept through Lorelei.
Warmth. And that smell. Coffee?
She slid her eyes open and glanced around. This was definitely Tanner’s cabin. She hadn’t risen in the night to add wood to the fire, yet flames danced in the hearth. The pot sat in the coals at the edge of the blaze where she brewed coffee, but she certainly hadn’t filled it. Tanner must’ve done so.
Then her sleeping mind finally sharpened. Her birthday.
She pushed her warm blankets down and sat up, glancing once more around the room to make sure she was alone. Had Tanner remembered this was her special day and come in quietly while she slept to ensure she woke to a warmroom and such a delicious scent? Or maybe he wanted coffee himself, and it had been kind of him not to wake her.
For just a moment, though, she would let herself believe the former. This was her birthday, after all. She could enjoy a little fancy if it didn’t bother anyone else.
After rebraiding her hair and filling a cup with the warm brew, she wrapped a shawl around herself and stepped outside. The mornings still carried enough of a nip, and she’d learned to be prepared.
She’d slept longer than usual, for the sun had risen farther up the eastern sky, lighting the courtyard fully. Curly toddled to her and greeted her with a lick to her skirt as she rubbed his mussed forelock.
A moo sounded from outside fort walls. Was Tanner out milking the cow?
She started that direction and peered out the gate. Elsa stood tied, and Tanner settled on a log near her tail, his back to Lorelei. He must have heard her, for he turned from his work, and the smile that spread across his features warmed her even more than the coffee. Even more than Curly’s enthusiastic greeting as he nuzzled her skirts again.
“I don’t have your food yet,” she murmured softly to the calf as she pushed his head away and stepped outside, latching the gate behind her.
“Happy birthday.” Tanner’s voice rumbled with that delicious edge it carried in the mornings. Every time, it drew a smile from her, and his words even more so now.
“Thank you.” She came to stand beside the cow and raised her cup. “It was nice to wake to brewed coffee. I’m assuming I have you to thank?” White Horse didn’t drink the stuff, so there really wasn’t a question. Unless one of hersisters had come over early, but they had their own chores back at the ranch.
