Jack inclined his head. “We are happy to meet Fisher Hat’s friends. We have brought deer to eat.”
“Thank you, that is a great gift to us.” Grinnell took the bundle of offered meat and handed it to Mr. Stanton. “Come and we’ll see it cooked. I can offer you some of the sweet cookies you enjoy.”
Jack smiled. “I’m glad you sent word that you’d be here. We were glad to see you again.”
Eleanor sat down on a rock and pulled out her journal to record the encounter. These men were ... majestic. Almost regal the way they held themselves. And their English was impeccable. Every once in a while, one would speak in another language to one of the others, and it rolled beautifully off their lips. Frankly, it put her to shame. She didn’t know another language.
Well, other than all her studies in Latin, but that was a dead language. That surely didn’t count.
She listened as their visitors talked about their families and what had been happening in their villages as they enjoyed a long dinner together. The roasted meat was delicious.
Far too soon, the Blackfeet stood to go. Eleanor sighed. She was in the middle of sketching their party and wouldn’t be able to finish now.
No sooner were good-byes said than they vanished into the woods as quietly as they’d appeared.
“Fascinating.” Father pulled his stool close to her. “Such strong and impressive men. Did you hear how well they spoke English?”
“Yes! I was astonished by it as well.” She kept her voice low. “It seems Mr. Grinnell has known them a long time. What a powerful testimony to the rest of us. The wild stories that still circulate about the Indians being savages and attacking settlers need to be put to rest once and for all.”
“Agreed. Perhaps I should write about that in my book, Ellie.”
She couldn’t help it. She spoke up. “I notice you call meEllieall the time now.”
He turned to her, his brow furrowed. “Have I? I guess I hadn’t noticed.”
She smiled at him. “It’s all right. It doesn’t bother me when you do it.”
And for the first time in ten years, it truly didn’t.
The next day they were more than halfway through their trip. Eleanor slipped from her saddle and rubbed her hand along Ulysses’s neck. He tossed his head, black mane waving with the motion. She smiled and fished a sugar cube out of her pocket. For all her travels with Father, she’d never really taken a shine to horses. But this gentle giant had carried her miles and miles without throwing her from her seat.
A sugar cube was the least she could give him.
She tugged his reins and led him to where the others had tethered their horses to munch on fresh grass. Pulling her comb out of a saddle bag and tucking it in her pocket, Eleanor made her way to where camp was being set up. A fire had been kindled and men were moving around, setting up tents and pulling out foodstuffs for dinner.
As much as her backside hurt, Eleanor couldn’t wait to sit on something that wasn’t swaying. She walked abouttwenty feet past camp to a large tree. With a groan, she sat down and leaned back against the trunk. She stretched her legs out before her, digging her knuckles into her leg muscles.
Perhaps Father was right. Even at twenty-four, her body wasn’t handling trips like it used to. She tugged her hair out of its braid and pulled her comb out. With quick strokes, Eleanor worked the tangles from her hair and pulled it back into a tighter braid. There. That would hold for another day or two. Or until they found a stream and she could bathe privately.
The sky was streaked with oranges and pinks, the deeper blue of evening ebbing in. A breeze rustled the leaves of the trees, scents of pine mingling with grass and wildflowers. This was why she was so passionate about preserving the land. The peace that came in the quiet of twilight. Mountains jutting toward the sky, their sharp peaks harsh against the blanket of stars beginning their night twinkle. Eleanor sighed and felt the tension of the day ease from her.
She still had to sit with Mr. Grinnell and Father to take notes regarding what they’d discovered near a large waterfall earlier in the day. Whatever it was had caused them to be in deep discussion most of the day.
“Ellie! Come closer into camp,” Father called from his place at the fire. “It’s getting too dark to be outside the tent circle.”
“Coming.” She eased to her feet, every one of her muscles protesting.
Just as she reached her tent, a loud crack echoed through the encampment. Eleanor screamed and dropped to the ground, rolling behind the large canvas.
Instantly, the men in camp were on their feet, rifles in hand.
Mr. Stanton pulled back the hammer on his weapon. “Who’s there? Show yourself. We mean no harm.”
Eleanor crawled to the front of the tent. Where was Father? Oh, thank goodness. He was crouched on the ground, behind a large fallen log. Mr. Grinnell was next to him.
“Consider this a warnin’!” a deep voice bellowed. It sounded like it came from Eleanor’s left, but with the acoustics of the forest and cliffs, it was impossible to tell.
“A warning for what?” Stanton hollered back.
