“Your father thinks Blaze has found a pack to run with,” Winona commented. She walked to the bed and smiled in delight when she saw Evelyn awake and studying her. “My little precious,” she said, lifting the child out of the cradleboard. “If you knew what you had been through tonight, your hair would turn gray.”
Evelyn cooed and wagged her chubby arms.
“Are you hungry?” Winona asked, moving to a chair near the fireplace. She made herself comfortable and slipped the top of her loose-fitting buckskin dress over her shoulder, exposing her right breast. Evelyn needed no coaxing and was soon sucking greedily.
“What does that feel like, Ma?”
Winona saw a look of entranced awe on her son’s face, and grinned. “It feels—nice.”
“I sure am glad I wasn’t born female.”
“Why is that?”
“I wouldn’t want anyone slurping on me the way she does, getting slobber all over everything. And after hearing about how babies are born, I don’t know if I could handle having something squirming around inside of me.”
“Men,” Winona said.
“What?”
“Indian or white, they are all alike.” Winona smiled. “Trust me, my son. Giving birth is the most wonderful joy a woman can know. Yes, there is some pain. But to hold new life in your hands, life that came from inside you, that you nurtured and carried for nine long moons, is an experience too wonderful for words.”
“If you say so.”
“We will see if you change your attitude after you have taken a wife and had a child of your own,” Winona said.
“I doubt I ...” Zach responded, falling quiet of a sudden as he leaped erect and swung toward the door, his hand falling to his butcher knife.
Winona twisted in her chair, hearing the same thing he did.
Something was sniffing at the door.
Chapter Seven
When Nate King rode over the crest of a high ridge to the north of the secluded valley in which his home was located and saw the quaint cabin bathed in the light of the morning sun, he smiled and clucked the stallion into a brisk walk. He couldn’t wait to see his wife and children again. Unlike many free trappers who could go off into the wilderness for weeks on end and not be at all upset about being separated from their loved ones, Nate missed his family more the longer he was away from them. Some of his friends had joked about his devotion, claiming he was soft in the heart, but he ignored them. To his way of thinking his family came first and foremost at all times.
The remote valley was as tranquil as ever. A few pillowy clouds floated on high through the vivid blue sky. The wind had temporarily died, and the surface of the lake was as smooth as fine china.
As Nate wound lower among the pines, he took note of the fact there was no smoke curling from the chimney. That made him a little uneasy, since he knew Winona would keep the fire going almost constantly to keep the baby from developing the chills. Perhaps, he speculated, she was off chopping wood or maybe out after small game.
Once on the flat valley floor Nate brought the stallion to a trot. Snow flew from under its pounding hoofs as he crossed a meadow and plunged into more trees. Behind him came the Leonards, Selena riding in the front this time and Elden holding fast to her waist.
“Did you build the cabin yourself?” she now inquired.
“My Uncle Zeke did,” Nate answered. “I added a stone fireplace and a few other touches to make it more comfortable for us.”
“Doesn’t your family miss having neighbors?”
“We do have neighbors.”
Selena scanned the valley from end to end. “Where?”
“Friends of ours, the McNairs, live about twenty-five miles away. We visit them or they visit us every couple of months and we all have a fine old time.” Nate went around a log. “They’re the nearest ones, but there are a few other trappers living in this particular mountain range.”
“I don’t see how you can stand it being so crowded,” Elden interjected.
Nate swung to the southeast to approach the cabin from the front. From several hundred yards off he saw the front door hanging wide open, and immediately he urged the black stallion into a gallop.
“What is your hurry?” Selena called out.
Apprehension was the cause, but Nate was in too much of a hurry to waste breath telling her. His concern stemmed from his long-running dispute with the Utes over his right to live where he pleased. The valley happened to lie at the extreme northeast corner of territory the Utes claimed, and since they had no desire to share, particularly with whites, they had repeatedly tried to kill him. Only the hand of Providence had spared him and his family from their traps and ambushes so far.
Nate sometimes reflected that he was merely being stubborn; the Rockies were vast and there were bound to be other spots which would appeal to him as much as his cherished valley. Yet he stayed on anyway. Perhaps, he often reasoned, it had something to do with his Uncle Zeke, who had staked out this valley years ago, and to whom Nate had become quite attached before Zeke was killed by a Kiowa warrior. The valley, and specifically the cabin, held a sentimental attachment he was reluctant to sever.
As Nate neared his home he cocked the Hawken. All the horses appeared to be in the corral, but there was still no sign of his wife or his son. He was out of the saddle before the stallion came to a complete stop. Dashing toward the doorway, he saw a vague shape appear out of the interior, and he drew up short, leveling his rifle. “You!” he blurted out.
Framed in the entrance was a majestic wolf with a wide white mark on its hairy chest. Triangular ears peaked, black nose twitching, it regarded him coolly for a moment, then advanced with its bushy tail wagging and its lips curled back in a welcoming smile.
“Where are they, Blaze?” Nate asked as he absently rubbed the wolf under the chin. “Take me to Zach and Winona.”
At the mention of the boy’s name, the wolf turned and padded around the corner. Nate followed, casting a look back as the Leonards rode up. “Stay here!” he directed, and was gone before either of them could voice an objection or a query.
Blaze seemed to know exactly where to go. At a slow lope the wolf headed through the forest, to the southwest.
Nate’s ears told him why long before his eyes did. The dull thud of an ax biting into wood caused relief to flood through him. When, a minute later, he saw them in a clearing ahead, he slowed and savored the sight.
Winona, the cradleboard strapped to her back, stood to one side of a dead pine watching her son wield the heavy ax. Zach was doing his best, struggling each time he threw his entire body into a swing. Neither of them paid much attention when Blaze bounded up.
Smiling to himself, Nate crept silently up behind his wife. He could barely contain his mirth as he jabbed her in the side and vented a bloodthirsty screech. His intent had been to make her jump, but he had failed to take her Shoshone heritage into account. Instead of being spooked, as most any white woman would have been, Winona whirled, swinging her flintlock like a club. Had Nate not been holding one arm at chest height, he would have lost some teeth. As it was, the blow sent him stumbling backward, his forearm and face lanced with pain. He tripped over his own feet, then fell onto his back and lay there in the snow, dazed.
“Husband!” Winona squealed. “I thought I was being attacked!”
Dimly, Nate realized someone was kneeling at his side and felt cool fingers on his sore mouth. Another hand squeezed his arm to determine if any bones were broken. Through a haze he beheld the most beautiful face in creation hovering above him, and he muttered, “Lord, you’re magnificent.”
“Don’t talk,” Winona said. “Your lip is split.”
“Is that all? It feels like my head.”
“Whatever possessed you to do such a thing? I might have shot you by mistake.”
“It was my idea of a joke,” Nate explained. “White people do it to each other all the time.”
“Do many of them live?”
Hearty
laughter added insult to the indignity, and Nate twisted to see his son doubled over in uncontrollable mirth. “Do you always delight in the misery of others, young man?”
“No, Pa,” Zach replied between guffaws. “But you should have seen the look on your face when Ma walloped you! I’ve never seen anyone so surprised in all my born days.”
“Hmmmmph,” Nate responded for lack of a wittier response. Sitting up, he rubbed his jaw and touched his lips. A speck of blood decorated his fingertip when he drew his hand away. “I’d best get some cold water on this before my mouth swells up.” He girded his legs to rise when the tranquility was shattered by a scream of sheer terror coming from the direction of the cabin. Nate took one look around the clearing and exclaimed, “Blaze!” Shoving erect, he shut out the throbbing in his forehead and sped off.
“Who was that?” Winona yelled, sprinting after him.
“Company,” Nate answered. Another scream spurred him to greater speed. Blaze was friendly toward him and his family, but a typical wild wolf where strangers were concerned. He envisioned one of the Leonards taking a stick to the animal and having a hand ripped off before he could get there.
Through the evergreens and around the cabin Nate ran. The scream had ended, and he didn’t quite know what he would find, but certainly never expected to find what he did: Selena, laughing softly, perched on the bottom limb of a tree, with her brother sprawled in an unconscious heap on the ground underneath her and Blaze astride Elden’s chest, licking the man’s face.
“What in the world?” Nate declared.
Blaze looked up, gave Elden a final lick, and padded off into the brush.
“My apologies,” Nate said, advancing. “The wolf is a pet, when it wants to be. Are you all right?”
“Never better,” Selena said. “We didn’t know if it would be friendly or not, and when I saw it coming at us I’m afraid I let out a yell.” She cautiously lowered herself to the ground. “We ran for this tree, but poor Elden passed out. Then the wolf jumped on top of him.” She shrugged. “I thought he was doomed and screamed again. I’m terribly sorry for being so weak.”
“You did what was to be expected,” Nate said, squatting beside Elden. He gave the man’s cheek a light slap. Elden groaned and his eyelids fluttered but he didn’t come around. “Did he hit his head on anything?”
“No, I don’t think—” Selena began, and gave a tiny gasp.
Shifting, Nate saw her gaping at Winona and Zach, both of whom were approaching. His wife, he deduced, must have waited for the boy to catch up. Introductions were in order so he rose and made them.
“This is your family?” Selena said in amazement. She beamed, giggled girlishly, then impulsively took a step and warmly embraced a surprised Winona. “Mrs. King! You have no idea what a pleasure this is.”
“I am pleased to meet you, Miss Leonard.”
“My word!” Selena said, drawing back. “You speak better English than I do.”
“I have had a good teacher,” Winona said, stepping to Nate’s side and taking his hand in hers.
The corners of Selena’s eyes crinkled. “Evidently,” she said sweetly. Then: “I hope you don’t mind us inconveniencing you in this fashion. Your husband saved us from a band of Bloods, and he promised we’d be able to stay here a few days, then go on to Fort Laramie.”
“We are delighted to have you,” Winona assured her, and motioned at the cabin. “In a short while my son will have a fire going, so come inside and make yourself comfortable.”
“I’d be glad to.”
Nate watched the two of them stroll in, pleased they seemed to be getting along so well together. Bending down, he hooked his hands under Elden’s shoulder and hoisted the heavyset man to a sitting posture.
“What?” Elden mumbled, the jostling reviving him at last. His eyes snapped open and he abruptly let out a squeal, waving his arms violently as if warding off a monster.
“You’re safe,” Nate said, holding tight. “The wolf is gone.”
“King?” Elden looked around. “Thank goodness! Did you scare it off? You should have seen the horrid teeth on the thing!” Opening his mouth to say more, he caught sight of Zach and blurted out, “Say, who’s the Indian brat?”
“My son,” Nate answered harshly, surging upright. So quickly did he move that gravity spilled Elden back to the ground. “And if you value your health, you’ll never, ever speak about him that way again.”
“I didn’t mean nothing by it,” Elden said. “Honest.”
“Sure you didn’t,” Nate responded. Beckoning Zach, he took the two horses to the pen and stripped his saddle off the stallion while explaining the circumstances that had resulted in having the pair of greenhorns as guests.
“I know you say we should try to like everyone,” Zach commented when his father was done, “but I have to be honest with you, Pa. I don’t think much of that Mr. Leonard and I hardly know the man.”
“You’re not to blame,” Nate said. “I don’t think much of him either, and I know him fairly well.”
Raucous laughter rang in the cabin as the two of them entered. Selena and Elden were seated on chairs by the fire, sipping tea as they conversed with Winona. All three were having a grand time.
“There you are!” Selena exclaimed. “Join us. Your charming wife has been entertaining us with delightful stories about frontier life.”
Elden lowered his tin cup. “I hope you’re not going to hold a grudge over that stupid remark I made when I came to. I’ve already admitted what I did to your wife and told her I was sorry.”
“A dozen times,” Winona said.
“How nice,” Nate said flatly. Still simmering over the insult to his son, he leaned the Hawken against the wall and deposited his saddle in a corner. From a bucket on the corner he filled a ladle with water to slake his thirst, and as he dropped the ladle back in he observed that the bucket was almost empty. “Be back in a bit,” he declared, grasping the handle.
“Where are you going?” Elden asked.
“To the lake,” Nate replied.
“I could use some fresh air,” Elden said, passing his tea to his sister. “Mind if I tag along?”
“Suit yourself,” Nate replied, striding out into the brilliant sunshine. He didn’t wait for the greenhorn, but hiked eastward, the bucket swinging in his right hand.
“Hold on!” Elden said, puffing up beside him. “I know you’re mad at me, but at least give me a chance to redeem myself in your eyes.”
“Who’s mad?” Nate rasped defensively.
“Come now, King. I’m not a complete idiot,” Elden said affably. “If someone called my son a brat, I know I’d be furious enough to eat nails.” He extended his hands, palms outward. “What can I say that will justify it? I’ll tell you. There is nothing I can say. All I can do is throw myself on my knees and beg your forgiveness.”
Nate was utterly astonished when, a second later, Leonard did exactly that, right in his path. He halted and gazed down at the man’s earnest features. “Don’t,” he declared. “A man never begs.”
“Mountain men, perhaps. But I’m a New Yorker,” Elden said. “Hell, you saw me. I faint sometimes when my life is endangered. I ask you. What sort of man does that?”
“It happens,” Nate said, although in truth he had never heard of any male over the age of ten being so afflicted. Bending, he gripped Leonard by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. “There’s no need to demean yourself.”
“But I want you to believe me when I say I’m truly sorry.”
“I do.”
“Really, or are you just saying that to make me feel better?” Elden grasped the trapper’s wrist. “This is important to me. I like you, King, and I don’t want any ill will between us. Especially since you’ve so graciously offered to take us in.”
Seldom had Nate encountered two people so glibly persuasive as the Leonards. They had a knack for using words to get their way, and now, while his resentment of Elden had not diminished a whit,
he found himself saying, “There are no hard feelings. You can rest easy.”
“Thank you,” Elden said, pumping Nate’s arm vigorously. “I’m hoping the two of us can be friends by the time this is over.”
“Anything is possible,” Nate allowed. Extricating his arm from Leonard’s unexpectedly strong grip, he continued along the path toward the lake. So many times had one or the other of his family gone for water since the snow fell that a well-worn rut marked the trail plainly. He was too deep in thought, though, to notice this or anything else about his surroundings.
Nate was extremely annoyed at himself for saying things he didn’t mean. He had always taken inordinate pride in his truthfulness; he shunned lying like preachers shunned sin. If a thing wasn’t so, he’d never deny it. Yet here he was, telling the simple-minded greenhorn that he harbored no ill will when he actually did. He disliked Elden intensely. And his feelings were nurtured by more than Leonard’s previous behavior. There was something about the man that rankled Nate, an indefinable quality that made Nate want to haul off and punch Elden in the face for no other reason than the man existed.
This in itself was annoying. Nate considered himself a logical man. Why, then, did he have this illogical attitude toward Elden? Especially since Leonard was being straightforward with him? It wasn’t every day he met a man willing to admit to being a coward and a bit of a fool.
Behind the trapper, Elden took a deep breath and said, “These mountains of yours certainly are invigorating! The air is so fresh it makes you tingle! And it’s so clear you can see for miles and miles.”
“Except on cloudy days,” Nate said.
“I bet this climate promotes one’s health,” Elden said. “Why, I haven’t been so full of vigor and vim since I was a child. A few weeks of this and I’ll be a completely new person.”
Nate envisioned being cooped up in the cabin with Elden for weeks on end, and frowned. He hoped to be able to take the pair to Fort Laramie as soon as possible.
“Say, look at that peak south of here!” Elden declared. “It must be the highest on the continent! Maybe you should name it after yourself so one day you’ll have your name on the map.”
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