Chapter Six
Chases Rabbits was surprised when Long Hair sent for him. He was in his father’s lodge, letting his father admire his new rifle, when a runner came and said that whites had come to the village, and Long Hair needed Chases Rabbits to translate.
Chases Rabbits hurried back with the runner. Two horses with saddles were outside the chief’s lodge, along with a string of four more. So was a gathering crowd of his people. He held his head high and made sure to hold his new rifle across his chest where all could see it. Then he bent and was in the chief’s lodge.
Other warriors were already there, prominent men, the most important in their tribe.
Long Hair beckoned. He had seen over eighty winters and was one of the most revered leaders of the tribe. His name came from the fact that his hair, once black but now as white as snow, had never been cut. He wore it in a single braid drawn up at the back. When he let it down, as he sometimes did at celebrations, it was as long as two tall men lying down head to toe.
Chases Rabbits was deeply honored, and greatly proud, to be called upon. Because of their many dealings with whites, quite a few of his people spoke a little of the white tongue, but he spoke it best. He had his mother to thank for that. She had lived with a white trapper when he was a boy.
Long Hair indicated that Chases Rabbits should sit on his left, between him and the white men.
Not until Chases Rabbits sank down did he look at them and realize who they were. He had to think to remember their names. Then he turned his attention to the great chief.
“You will speak to these whites for us. Find out why they have come. They do not know our tongue and do not know sign. But they smile and are friendly and seem to have something important to say.”
“I have met them,” Chases Rabbits revealed. “They are with the man who has the new trading post.”
“Then perhaps they have come to ask us to trade with them,” Long Hair said. “Question them for us.”
Chases Rabbits turned to their visitors and switched to English. “My heart be happy at seeing you again, Mr. Geist.” He was not so happy to see the other one, Petrie. He had not liked how Petrie treated his friend Nate King.
“Well, this is a stroke of luck,” the blond man said cheerfully. “Chases Rabbits, isn’t it? I’ll be grateful if you can help us.”
“What it be you want?”
Geist was seated cross-legged, his elbows on his knees. He made a tepee of his fingers and tapped them to his square chin. “I have heard about Long Hair. They say he is a great and wise chief. Tell him for me that I am honored to be in his presence.”
Chases Rabbits did as the white man wanted.
“I am here on behalf of Mr. Levi—”
“Me sorry,” Chases Rabbit broke in. “Who?”
“On behalf of Toad,” Geist clarified. “He has left it to me to drum up business for the trading post. I figure the best way to do that is to hook up with one of the tribes and have them spread word among the other tribes about how friendly we are.”
“Me sorry again,” Chases Rabbits said. “What mean hook up? Like hook Nate King use to catch fish?”
Petrie laughed.
“No, not like a fishhook,” Geist said, glaring at Petrie. “Hook up means to be a special friend. We would like to be special friends with the Crows. As a token of our friendship, I brought four horses for…” He seemed to catch himself. “I brought three horses as gifts for Long Hair and one horse as a gift for you.”
“Me?” Chases Rabbits said in great surprise.
“I would like you to be our interpreter. In exchange, you’ll get free gifts. The horse is just the first of many.”
The prospect of a flood of wealth dazzled Chases Rabbits to such an extent that he nearly missed what Geist said next.
“The rest of your people will get special treatment, too. We’ll give you discounts on the trade goods that we won’t give others.”
“Discounts?”
“A blanket that might cost someone from another tribe four buffalo robes will only cost your tribe three. That sort of thing.”
“It be nice of you.”
Geist reached over and patted Chases Rabbits on the arm. “Like I said, we want to be special friends with the Crows.”
“Why us?” Chases Rabbits thought to ask. “There be many tribes. The Shoshones, the Arapahos, the Nez Perce—” He would have gone on, but Geist had an answer.
“The Shoshones already have a special white friend in Nate King. As for the others, they’re too far away. You Crows are the closest.”
Long Hair impatiently asked what the white man was talking about.
Chases Rabbits explained. He made it a point to end with “They want me to talk for them in council because I speak the white tongue so well.”
The burly warrior on Long Hair’s right raised his head. “This is a good thing for the Apsaalooke,” he said, using their name for themselves. “The Shoshones have done well by their friendship with Grizzly Killer. Why should we not benefit by having this white man for our friend?”
Another warrior spoke. “Think of what it will mean. More horses. More guns. More knives.”
“More pots for the women,” a warrior at the end said, and they all grinned.
“It is a good thing,” Long Hair agreed, and turned to Chases Rabbit. “Tell the white man we accept. Thank him for me for the horses. Say that from this day on, we will regard him and the other whites at the trading post as our brothers. They are always welcome at our fire.”
Chases Rabbits translated Long Hair’s acceptance to the whites. Geist was pleased. “I can’t tell you how much this means to us. You won’t regret it.”
A pipe was produced and passed around.
Chases Rabbits sat straight and tall. His status in the tribe had changed; he was now a man of importance. He thought of Raven On The Ground and how impressed she would be. He couldn’t wait to tell the Kings. He was sure they would be happy for him.
Chapter Seven
The pair was barely out of sight of the Crow village when Geist shifted in his saddle and snapped, “You almost gave us away back there when you laughed, damn you.”
“Don’t talk to me like that,” Petrie said.
Geist drew rein. “I’ll talk to you any damn way I please. There is too much at stake for you to act the fool.”
“Now, hold on,” Petrie said. “They have no idea what this is about. That boy and his fishhook was close to the truth, but he doesn’t know it. That’s why I laughed.”
Leveling his rifle, Geist asked in a tone pregnant with menace, “Are you talking back to me?”
“Never,” Petrie said, staring calmly at the rifle’s muzzle. “How long have we been together? I’ve never had cause to complain. You outthink everybody. All I do is kill.”
Geist lowered his long gun and flicked his reins. “I’m irritable, I suppose, because there’s so much at stake. We can’t have them suspect.”
“They have no more brains than cows.”
“And like cows we’ll use them to our own ends. Six months from now we’ll be back where we were before that sheriff and his posse closed in. Only better, because out here there’s no law.”
“It was the best idea we ever had, coming west of the Mississippi.”
“We?” Geist said.
“Well, you know.”
“I should have thought of it years ago. We can do whatever we please out here. Think about that. Whatever we damn well please.” Geist’s face practically glowed with fierce delight. “There’s no one to stop us.”
“What about St. Vrain and his partners, and that busybody King?”
“All St. Vrain cares about is his precious fort. The Bent brothers have ties to the Cheyenne and the Arapaho, not to mention the Crows. They won’t give a lick what we do.”
“That still leaves Nate King.”
“Yes, it does. But if we do this right, if we do it smart, we’ll have everything in place before he can lift a fin
ger against us. By then, it will be too late.”
“I can shoot him so it never comes to that.”
“Use your damn head. If we kill him, we’ll make the Shoshones mad, and we want their trade as much as the others.”
“They’ll never know it was me,” Petrie said.
“Maybe not. But there’s that son of his to consider. I had a long talk with St. Vrain about this Zachary King. He’s our main worry. He wiped out an entire trading post for stirring up trouble with the redskins.”
“What do you mean, wiped out?”
“What the hell do you think I mean? He and some Shoshones killed every last man. Killed some Crows who were involved, too, which didn’t sit well with the Crows. Yet another reason for us to choose them and not another tribe.” Geist shook his head. “No, this Zach King is a he-bear. The genuine article. We’ll tread light so as not to involve him.”
“A lot of trouble to go to,” Petrie said. “I could kill him as well as his pa.”
Geist rode for a while in silence, then said, “If it comes to that. In the meantime, do as I say.”
“Don’t you mean as Toad says?”
“Isn’t he something?” Geist said.
The river they were following flowed through gorgeous country lush with vegetation and teeming with game. They spooked a female elk that barreled away through the undergrowth with her calf at her tail.
“That reminds me,” Petrie said. “Why didn’t you ask them about the women?”
“One step at a time,” Geist replied. “First we win their confidence, and then we set it up.”
“I can’t wait,” Petrie said.
“Me neither.”
Chapter Eight
The temperature was pushing one hundred the day that Zach King and two Shoshones came down out of the mountains to Mud Hollow. They drew rein on a hill that overlooked the new mercantile. Zach took in the horses that lined the hitch rail and the bustle of activity. “What we heard is true.”
His uncle, Touch The Clouds, grunted. “If the rest is true, you can stop worrying.”
“I have to see for myself.”
The other Shoshone said, “Your father is satisfied, but you are still suspicious.”
“I’m not my father, Drags The Rope.”
The warrior smiled. “No, Stalking Coyote, you are not Grizzly Killer.”
“The whites have a saying,” Zach said. “Better safe than sorry. It’s better if these traders prove to us we can trust them than if we take it for granted and end up like before.” He kneed his dun.
The slope was broken by a new trail, courtesy of the many who had already paid the trading post a visit. Below, Crows, Nez Perce, and several Flatheads were moving about or talking.
“I do not see any Blackfeet,” Drags The Rope said, and grinned.
“If they find out about this place, they might burn it to the ground,” Zach predicted.
“It is too far south for the Blackfeet,” Touch The Clouds said.
“Then the Sioux, maybe.”
“Why do you resent these traders so much? It could be they have good hearts.”
Zach didn’t have a ready answer. His sister liked to poke fun at him by saying he was suspicious of all whites. But that wasn’t entirely true. He trusted his father, and his father’s dearest friend and mentor, Shakespeare McNair. Besides, he was part white himself.
A wagon was parked by the corral. A grizzled white man with gray hair and a floppy hat came out of what Zach took to be a small stable and stretched. He spied them and immediately hurried into the trading post.
Their arrival sparked considerable interest. Zach knew a number of the warriors and acknowledged the few who acknowledged him. More were interested in greeting Touch The Clouds. The giant Shoshone leader was famed not only among his own kind, but also among many other tribes—including their enemies—for his bravery and devotion to the welfare of his people.
Drags The Rope remarked with another of his wry grins, “I am happy to be ignored.”
They dismounted and went into the mercantile. Zach recognized the man called Toad behind the long counter from his father’s description. On the near side of the counter stood a man with blond curls. His father had called that one Geist. A small man with ratlike eyes was at the far end, a rifle on the counter next to him. That would be Petrie, Zach decided. The man with the gray hair and floppy hat and two others were leaning against the opposite wall. All of them were armed, but that was nothing new on the frontier; Zach was heavily armed himself. He walked to the counter with his Shoshone friends on either side.
“How do you do?” Toad said. “I understand that you’re Nate King’s son, Zach.” He held out his hand.
Zach shook hands, but he didn’t like doing so. The man’s hand was clammy.
“I’m Geist,” the blond man said, and he shook, too.
Zach introduced Touch The Clouds and Drags The Rope.
“I’m right pleased to make your acquaintance,” Geist said. He offered his hand, but Touch The Clouds didn’t take it. Instead, Touch The Clouds grunted.
“He’s not insulting you,” Toad said. “Shaking hands is a white custom.” To the Shoshone chief he said, “I’m pleased to meet you as well. I hope your people will feel free to visit often.”
In Shoshone, Touch The Clouds said to Zach, “You talk for us. I do not want them to know I know a little of their tongue.”
Zach nodded at the three men against the wall. “Who are they?”
“They work for me,” Toad said.
“Their names.”
Toad seemed surprised. He pointed at the one in the floppy hat. “That’s Dryfus. Next to him is Gratt. The tall one is Berber.”
“Why do you want to know their names?” Geist asked.
“It is good to know who your enemies might be,” Zach told him.
“Enemies?” Toad said. “Didn’t your father tell you? I run an honest store. Anyone comes in here, white or red, they’re treated the same.”
“If that’s true, it would make you…” Zach pretended to grope for a word. “What is it the whites say? Oh, yes. It would make you a saint.”
Toad snorted. “I’m not any such thing. I’m a businessman. But an honest businessman.”
“Is that possible?”
“Your friend St. Vrain is one. The Bent brothers, too, from what I’m told.”
“Yes,” Zach admitted. “They are.”
“I am just like them.”
Zach stared down the counter at Petrie. “That remains to be seen.”
Geist stood outside the trading post and watched the younger King and the two Shoshones ascend the trail up the hill to the west.
Petrie came out and stood watching, too. “What do you think?”
“I think Toad was pretty convincing. They acted like they almost believed him.”
“The half-breed didn’t.”
“Now that I’ve met him, I’m not so concerned.”
“You’re not?”
Geist shook his head. “He didn’t seem nearly as dangerous as everyone makes him out to be. He was curious, mostly. And testy. But that comes from being a half blood.” He thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “No, sir. I think we can get on with our plans and won’t have to worry about Zach King one bit.”
“About damn time,” Petrie said.
“But we still have to be careful. That Touch The Clouds could bring his entire tribe down on us, so you make sure the others understand. No Shoshone women. Not one. You hear me?”
“We didn’t aim to use any anyway.”
“We’ll start with the Crows,” Geist said. “They’re practically used to it. Anyone who stops in a Crow village for the night is allowed to help himself.”
“Filthy heathens.”
“Now, now. I sort of admire their honesty. But they’re awful dumb, giving it away for free.”
“What about the other tribes?” Petrie asked.
“One at a time, remember? Once we have a thriving trade w
ith Crow females, we’ll see about adding others. From what I hear, some tribes will sell their women outright if the price is right. A couple of horses and a few blankets could get us one who brings in three to four hundred a year.”
“But will the whores be enough?”
Geist looked at him. “It never has been, has it? We’ll run the liquor on the side. And if all goes well, we’ll sell some guns to tribes we’re not supposed to.”
“Like the Blackfeet and maybe the Sioux?”
“For a start.” Geist smiled. “These wilds are everything I’d hoped they’d be. There are opportunities galore for men with no scruples.”
“That would be us,” Petrie said.
“Yes, it would,” Geist said, and they both laughed.
Chapter Nine
Life was glorious.
Chases Rabbits came down out of Crow country to pay another visit to his new white friends. He was winding along a serrated ridge with patches of thick woods broken by small meadows. He sat straight and tall on his new sorrel, thinking of how magnificent his reflection had looked in the stream. The next patch of woods ended and he emerged into another sunny meadow.
Chases Rabbits drew rein in alarm. There was a grizzly in the center of the meadow. It had been so long since he saw one of the silver-tip bears that he had forgotten how enormous they were: as huge as a buffalo. Even worse, each of their giant paws was rimmed with long claws that could flay flesh like sharp knives, and their maws were rimmed with sharp pointed teeth powerful enough to crunch through bone.
The bear was rooting at what appeared to be a badger burrow, and had not seen him yet.
Chases Rabbits debated what to do. He could rein around and ride like the wind, but the grizzly might hear him and give chase. Or he could sit quietly and hope the beast went on its way without noticing him.
Grunting and snorting, the grizzly dislodged large clumps of dirt. Evidently it was intent on digging the badger out.
Chases Rabbits sat quietly. The sorrel raised its head and pricked its ears, quivering. To keep it from bolting, Chases Rabbits bent and patted its neck, whispering, “Be brave, horse. I am here.” He looked up.
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