“All three of us, Lady Templar?” Jarvis asked doubtfully. Rarely in all the time of his service to the Templars had he been asked to dine with them. To tea, yes. But the intimacies of meals were reserved for their social peers or special guests. Or for the locals in the exotic parts of the world they visited, whom the Templars plied for information so they would have more to relate when they returned to London.
“Yes. We have much to discuss. I would like to hear all of your opinions as to the best way to proceed. In light of our losses today, I don’t want to make the wrong decision.”
“We’ll be there,” Shakespeare promised, and grinned as she headed for the tent. “Now there’s a woman with gumption, Nate. You should have seen the way she stood up to the Piegans.”
“Winona and her seem to be hitting it off,” Nate mentioned. “I reckon well stick around for a spell and see what we can do to help her out.”
“It’s decent of you to see her right,” Jarvis said in gratitude. “This is one time I’m out of my element, mates. I thought I knew all there was to know about fighting, but I’ve never seen anything like these bloody heathens. There’s no halfway with them, is there? They keep coming at a man until they drop him or he drops them.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Nate said.
“Sir?”
“Refer to Indians as bloody heathens. They’re no better or worse than our kind.” Nate’s right hand, perhaps unconsciously, rested on a pistol. “And I’d like to remind you that my wife is an Indian.”
“I meant no offense, Mr. King,” Jarvis said. “Don’t get your dander up. To me, people are people no matter what color their skin happens to be.”
“Do the Templars share your view?”
“William doesn’t, but then he’s a bit of a cad. As for Lady Diana” and Jarvis, out of loyalty, hedged “she’s more open-minded than he is.”
“That’s right good to hear,” Nate said. “Maybe Winona has found herself a new friend.”
Chapter Seven
Lady Diana Templar put on a magnificent front at supper, smiling and chatting animatedly despite the nightmare the day had been. Four of their party had perished; three more were wounded, although not seriously. Only Jarvis and Eric Nash, of all the men in the marquis’s employ, had escaped unscathed, Jarvis by virtue of his skill acquired while a soldier for the Crown, Eric because the Piegans had been rightfully more concerned with the defenders who were resisting them than with one quaking white-eyes.
Since Diana had no time to prepare steak pie, as she had been wont to do from deer slain by the party, she made do with scones, sandwiches layered thick with the last of the tasty jam she had brought all the way from England, and tarts. She apologized profusely for such meager fare, and was glad none of her close friends could see the culinary depths to which she had fallen.
Present around the table were the two frontiersmen, Winona and Zach, the Templars, Eric, and Jarvis.
“I’m happy you were all so kind to join us,” Diana said to her guests after the sandwiches were consumed. “Because of the critical situation in which the attack has placed us, I must rely on sound suggestions from you. What should we do? Clearly, staying in the mountains is impractical, as is the idea to go to Canada. We are now so few that we could never hope to fend off another attack. We must head for civilization, and the sooner, the better. But should we retrace our steps or take another route?”
Nate put down the tart he had been eating. “From what I’ve been told, you came almost due west after leaving Independence until you struck the mountains. Then you came north. Is that right?”
“Correct,” Diana said.
“Then you don’t want to go back the same way, not if you value your hides,” Nate declared. “How you got by the Sioux and the Pawnees the first time without being spotted is beyond me, but you might not be so lucky again.”
“What would you propose?”
Shakespeare spoke before Nate could. “Remember what I told you before about going to the Yellowstone River and following it until you hit the Missouri? There would be your safest bet. You’d have plenty of grass and water for your horses and you wouldn’t have to worry about getting lost.”
“What about the Piegans and others of their ilk?”
“The Blackfeet and Piegans have territory north of the Yellowstone and they seldom cross it except on raids. That’s what those we tangled with today were doing here. It’s doubtful there’s another Piegan war party this far south at the same time, so all you’d have to keep your eyes peeled for would be Blackfeet.” Shakespeare stroked his beard. “And maybe a few Bloods. And Gros Ventres.”
“You’re not very encouraging, Mr. McNair.”
“I don’t aim to be. You’ll be in danger no matter which way you pick, but I figure you’ll be in less danger along the Yellowstone and the Missouri than you would be if you cut directly across the prairie.” Shakespeare swallowed some tea. “And once you reach Mandan country you’ll be as safe as a baby in a cradleboard.”
“Mandan country? I don’t believe I’ve heard of it.
“Mandans are Indians, ma’am, but they’re as friendly a bunch as you’ll find anywhere. Like the Shoshones and the Flatheads, they’ve never taken a white scalp. They like being our friends. They’re honest in all their dealings, and they’ll give you the last morsel of food in their lodge if you’re hungry.”
William, who had morosely listened to the conversation, finally chimed in with, “You make the devils sound like saints.”
“They’re as close to it as Indians come,” Shakespeare said, refusing to be nettled. “And once you reach their villages, you’ll have a straight shot down the Missouri River to Independence with
little to fear except maybe the Rees, who have been doing all they can to make life miserable for whites ever since Colonel Henry Leavenworth moved heaven and earth to show them how puny the white man can be when he puts his mind to it.”
“What did he do?” William asked.
“Back in ’23 the Rees kicked up their heels a mite. They were upset with some trappers who had lent a hand to the Sioux. This was before the Sioux took to being unfriendly themselves.” Shakespeare leaned back in his chair. “Anyway, the Rees drove off some trappers who were going up the Missouri, killing about a dozen. Colonel Henry Leavenworth put together about six companies to punish the Rees and headed for their villages, taking along a couple of cannons and swivel guns for good measure. Along the way he was joined by seven hundred Sioux and a lot of trappers. By time he reached the Ree villages he had over a thousand men under him.”
“What happened?” Jarvis prompted when the mountain man stopped.
“Leavenworth proved he was a flash in the pan. He surrounded the Rees and tried to parley with them, which made the Sioux so disgusted they all left. By the time the colonel got around to attacking, the Rees had slipped away in the middle of the night. Ever since the Rees think all whites are no account.”
“So they’ll attack us if they see us?” Diana asked.
“Probably. But all you have to do is take a page out of their book and sneak by their villages after dark. Once you do, you’re home free.”
“Tell me, Mr. McNair,” William said. “How long will it take us to reach Independence from here?”
“Weeks and weeks. Maybe months, even if you push hard and have more luck than most.”
“And you expect that the six of us can travel a thousand miles or so through hostile territory—except for the bleeding Mandan country—and reach Independence safely? That’s going it a bit much, isn’t it?”
“A body can do anything he puts his mind to. Like I always say, where there’s a will there’s a way.”
“How delightful,” William snorted.
Diana rose and began moving around the table, her hands clasped behind her back. “I don’t want to be too hasty. We’ve already proven we don’t know what we’re doing once, and I’d hate to repeat our mistake.” She stopped next to McNair. �
��What we need is a guide, someone who knows this country and can see us all the way to Independence. Someone like you.”
The front legs of Shakespeare’s chair hit the ground with a thud. “Hold on there, ma’am. I’m flattered you’d ask me, but I really can’t spare the time.”
“For me,” Diana said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Please.”
“My wife would have a fit. We’re supposed to join her people at Bear Lake in three weeks.”
“I’ll pay you.”
“No-sir-ee. I don’t see how I could.”
“A thousand American dollars for your services.”
“A thousand!” Shakespeare declared. “It would take me half a year of steady trapping to earn that much.”
“What do you think, Mr. King?” Diana expectedly asked. “Is a thousand dollars a fair amount?”
Nate had been listening to the exchange with amusement. He knew his mentor had taken a liking to the Englishwoman, and he was eager to see whether Shakespeare would succumb to her charms and as a result get into hot water with Blue Water Woman. He failed to see his connection with the proposition, and so answered, “It’s up to Shakespeare what he thinks is fair, Lady Templar.”
“What about you?” she persevered.
“Me?”
“Would you take a thousand dollars to be our guide if it was offered to you?”
“I might,” Nate said, “but since I’d never leave Winona and Zach for that long a spell, there isn’t much use in talking about it.”
“What if you could bring your wife and son along?”
Suddenly Nate perceived an underlying motive to her probing and he glanced at Winona, whose expression told him she had already discerned the truth and was seriously mulling over a decision. But then, she always was one step ahead of him. He had never been loath to acknowledge that she was mentally sharper than he could ever hope to be, as demonstrated by her excellent grasp of English while his grasp of the Shoshone tongue was merely adequate. He took pride in her brilliance, and counted himself fortunate to have her as his wife.
“The reason I am asking is because I would like to invite all of you to come along,” Diana was elaborating. “You, your wife and son, and Mr. McNair if he so desires. And I’m quite serious about the amount. A thousand dollars each is a paltry sum to pay for safe passage back to the States.”
“We would have to think it over,” Nate said.
Diana glanced at McNair. “And you? Is there anything I can say that would change your mind?”
“Oh, you could give me a week to ride home and spring the question on Blue Water Woman,” Shakespeare responded without any real thought of being taken seriously.
“Go right ahead.”
Nate and Shakespeare exchanged glances; then the older mountain man stood. “You’d be willing to sit here that long when there’s no guarantee I’ll agree?”
“We will need at least a week for our wounded to recover sufficiently to make the journey, and since there are fewer of us now I must decide what to take along and what to leave. The delay will be well worth it if you agree to help. At any rate, you have my heartfelt thanks for going to so much trouble on our behalf.”
“So please you, save the thanks this prince expects,” Shakespeare quoted. “The luster in your eye, heaven in your cheek, pleads your fair usage.”
Diana laughed merrily and touched McNair’s cheek. “I do believe you have a dash of rogue in you.”
“Doesn’t every man?”
The rest of the conversation concerned small talk about England, and Diana went on at length about how great a man her father was, and how he thoroughly approved of his offspring receiving an education in the practical affairs of the world through their many travels. William contributed little to the discussion, Eric Nash even less.
Nate was the first to excuse himself and his family so they could turn in, and Shakespeare promptly did likewise. As they strolled toward where Winona and Nate had chosen to sleep, his friend put a hand on Nate’s arm.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Shakespeare said. “Don’t take this wrong, but what the hell brought you here today? I thought you were waiting for me at your cabin.”
“We were, until I told Winona I had this bad feeling about you. She told me that she’d learned long ago never to buck her intuition, so we figured we’d ride toward your cabin and maybe meet you on the way since we know the trail you usually take to reach our place.” Nate chuckled. “And there we were, riding along, when we heard all this shooting and hollering and came for a look-see. The rest you know.”
“Maybe someday this old coon can return the favor.”
Under a cottonwood tree Winona spread their blankets. She tucked Zach in while Shakespeare took Nate aside.
“I’ll be leaving before sunup. I asked for a week but it won’t take near that long, so expect me back in three days, if you’re still here.”
Nate gazed at his wife. “Something tells me we will be.”
“Keep your eyes peeled. I doubt the Piegans will bother these greenhorns again after the licking we gave them, but you never know. They might want revenge.”
“Rest easy. I’ll watch over these people until you come back.”
“Thanks.” Shakespeare showed his teeth, then said, “For ever and for ever farewell, Brutus! If we do meet again, we’ll smile indeed. If not, ’tis true this parting was well made.”
“Shoot sharps the word,” Nate said, and stood there until McNair was lost in the shadows. They’d previously agreed to sleep at opposite ends of the camp to reduce the chance of the Piegans sneaking in among the marquis’s party undetected. Turning, he strolled to his blanket and sat down beside his wife. “What do you think about Lady Templar’s proposition?”
“I would like to go.”
“Have you forgotten you’re heavy with child?”
Winona’s laugh tinkled on the breeze. “How could a woman ever forget such a thing? Every time she moves, every time she breathes, she is reminded of the new life stirring within her.”
“Then we have to tell Diana no.”
“I did not say that, husband,” Winona said. “Our daughter will not enter this world for five moons yet, so there is more than enough time for us to travel to Independence and return.”
“What if something goes wrong? What if there’s an unforeseen delay? We could be stuck out on the prairie when you give birth.”
“Which would be good. The prairie is flat, so we do not need to worry about her rolling downhill if she doesn’t slide out onto the buffalo robe as she should.”
Nate shook his head in exasperation. “Sometimes your sense of humor is downright peculiar.”
“Our baby will be fine whether I give birth in our cabin or out on the plains,” Winona said, her hand caressing his wrist. “And I would very much like to go.”
“Me too, Pa,” Zach said from under his blanket.
“Get to sleep,” Nate groused. His reservations notwithstanding, he was also inclined to accept the proposition, but his motive was the money and he didn’t care to have his greed put his family at risk. A thousand dollars made a tidy sum, a nest egg they could set aside for the future, for the day when the beaver were played out as they must eventually be due to the heavy toll taken on their number each year by free and company trappers.
As if Winona could read his thoughts, she startled him by casually commenting, “Diana has made us a very generous offer. We would be fools to pass up an opportunity to earn a thousand dollars.”
“Since when do you care about money?”
“I am thinking of you,” Winona answered. “You value it much more than I ever could.”
“As you like to say, well get by no matter what happens, money or no money. If this was New York it would be a different story, but in the mountains we can live off the land and never go hungry or without clothes. Everything we need is right here for the taking.” Nate put his hands down and braced his palms on the ground. “This is
the way life is meant to be. Once, it’s true, I believed earning money was the main purpose to our lives. Now I know better, and I thank God I learned what truly matters before I was gray and wrinkled.”
“If, as you claim, you no longer care about such things, then agree to go for my sake. Diana Templar truly likes me. She does not think I am less of a person than she is because we are different.” Winona gazed at the tent, which was highlighted by a small fire dancing in front of it. “I have long wanted to know about white women and why they do the things they do. Perhaps, through Diana, I will learn to better understand them.”
Nate had long known of his wife’s continuing fascination with women of his own kind, and of her keen desire to learn why many white women despised her when she had done them no wrong. He recollected how bitterly disturbed she had been after their visit to St. Louis, and how he had been unable to answer her many questions to her satisfaction. Being a man, he found womanly nature to be one of life’s great mysteries, a mystery so profound no man since the dawn of time had been able to pierce its veil, to overcome the insurmountable obstacle posed by the inherent differences between the two sexes.
“There is another reason I ask this,” Winona was saying. “For many sleeps now have I been cooped up in the cabin, and I would like to get out in the fresh air for a while, to travel and see sights I have never seen.” She gestured at the inky outline of the mountains, barely visible under the shimmering stars. “To you this land is much different from the land in which you were raised, and so you never tire of exploring it. But I was born here, and the mountains are not new to me.” She sighed. “The plains are. My people only go there to hunt buffalo for a short while, and then we go right back to the mountains. I would like to see more of the prairie, husband. I would like to feel the same thrill you do every day.”
The passionate appeal touched Nate deeply. “That’s two good reasons you’ve given me,” he said. “And I don’t see how I can object.” Smiling, he shifted to kiss her cheek. “You can tell Lady Templar that well guide them to Independence, but make it clear to her that if the trip turns out to be more than you bargained for, if you fall sick or have any problems with the baby, then we’re turning around right then and there and heading for your village so old Raven Woman can tend you. She knows more about nursing pregnant women than anyone.”
Season of the Warrior (A Wilderness Giant Edition Western Book 2) Page 8
