Morning Star recalled that three days ago her people broke camp to journey to their first camp on the Great Plains to hunt buffalo. She prayed their hunt would be safe and successful, as would her impending task.
For four days, the terrain was a mixture of flat lands and low, rolling hills. Tall bluestem grass added color to that of gray-green needle and buffalo, as did the purplish hue of scattered bunches of switch. Pasque, the harbinger of spring, decorated areas with blue, lavender, and white faces. A few clumps of prickly pear displayed buds and unripened cactus fruits. Morning Star told Joe that Indians used the red fruits for food, as they did with the bulb of the creamy white segolily. An array of other wildflowers snuggled amidst the mixed grasses to dot the solid blanket of green.
The landscape altered to higher hills with lengthy plateaus— up a steep incline, across a pancake surface, and down into a valley with lumpy waves. The cycle was repeated over and over. Visibility was excellent, and a good safety factor. When they saw trees— usually cottonwoods— that indicated a water source was nearby: a sign any greenhorn had better learn fast, and Joe had done so under Morning Star’s skilled tutorship.
About four o’clock, the couple neared the trading post of Orin McMichael. Noticeable apprehension chewed at both.
“What if Zeke and other man here?” she asked.
Joe didn’t hesitate before replying, “We hit the trail fast. If anything looks or sounds strange, flee. If we get separated, head for our last campsite. I’ll join you there. We can’t take any chances of both of us getting captured. If anything happens to me, get word to Captain Thomas. If you get caught, stay calm and I’ll find a way to rescue you. Keep your eyes and ears open. Don’t trust anybody. Anybody,” he stressed.
Morning Star did not insist for them to stay together at all times. It might not be possible. Confident that Joe was clever and careful, she would follow his orders, whether or not she agreed with them.
Joe spoke his thoughts aloud. “It’s been three weeks since our run-in with Zeke. He’s had time to get here, if he was heading this way. This is a big territory; he could be anywhere. I don’t see his wagons— that’s a good sign. If he’s been here, I doubt he told anyone about his trouble with us; it would be humiliating to expose his defeat.”
“You right. I try not to… worry much.”
The sunny-haired man reminded, “Remember, we don’t want to do any private talking here. I don’t want us overheard in case somebody decides to spy on us. We will play our parts as if they’re real.”
“I obey, do my best to play good squaw.”
The alert couple studied the settled area as they entered it. Everything faced south, instead of the Missouri River and rising sun as one might expect. The Cheyenne River was behind, its many watery fingers pointing northwest, which created an excellent rear defense to prevent being flanked by attackers. The surging “Big Muddy” did the same eastward. Joe told Morning Star the purpose and power of two cannons— one aimed west and the other south— that asserted this settlement had little vulnerability and that the owner was determined to be safe. The undamaged landscape told them the weapons had not be used.
Orin’s trading post was large, well-constructed, and rustic. A porch ran the full length of the front, with wooden poles supporting the roof. There was a small house to its right, probably the owner’s home. It, too, looked strong and well suited to the wilderness that surrounded it. To the left was an oblong building with a door at each end. Joe suggested to his companion that it was half for storage and half for guest quarters, as he’d seen elsewhere. Between the two structures, they saw a stable and corral and through one open door, they sighted a flat-bed wagon for hauling goods from the nearby river. The corral held six horses and seven mules. They noticed a worn trail snaking eastward, which indicated in which direction the boat landing was located. There were scattered copses of hardwoods around the clean settlement, and a dense tree line along most of the grassy bank of “The Misery” that joined the Cheyenne not far away.
They rode to the trading post, dismounted, and secured their horses’ reins to hitching poles with metal loops. Joe did the same with the mules’ reins. It was late afternoon on the seventh of June. Sunset would arrive in a few hours. It was time for serious work.
A tall, burly man with red hair and matching burnsides left the post and joined them. His brows were wiry, with hairs growing in all directions over hazel eyes. His complexion was flushed, but from natural coloring rather than results from any kind of exertion. The sparkle in his eyes and the broad smile on his face alleged him to be good-natured and friendly.
“Good tae see ye, friend,” he greeted the stranger, barely glancing at the woman. “I’m Orin McMichael, tha proud proprietor of this fine establishment. I see ye’ve come tae sell ’r trade furs. Ye made ae wise choice.” He rubbed his clean-shaven chin, finger-flicked his whiskered jawline, then stroked his thick mustache.
Joe grasped the large, strong hand extended to him and shook it. He noticed Orin’s voice was deep and mellow with a Scottish burr. “The name’s Joe Lawrence. Glad to meet you. It’s been a long, hard ride.” If Orin recognized his name, it didn’t show. He had seen only one other man with the similar facial haircut, who had said he shaved his chin to keep food bits and grease out of his beard. From his attire and manner, Orin seemed to be a man inclined toward neatness. The redhead was dressed in a dark coat with matching trousers, a white shirt, patterned vest, and a bowtie. Orin looked as if he belonged more in an office in a large city than in a wild area like this one.
The Scotsman smiled. “Time for drinking, talking, and having fun, Joe Lawrence,” Orin said, as if stressing the man’s name to brand it into memory. “I have e’er’thing ye need ’r want here. Ye can set up camp o’er there in tha trees,” he suggested, pointing to a shady area that faced his home. “Ye can stay with yer woman ’r stay in me fine lodgins. Either way, she’ll be safe in Orin’s shadow. She speak English?”
Joe removed his hat and held it by the brim at his left leg. “A little. I bought her last year. She’s been a good helper. She’s Arapaho.”
Orin looked her over as he replied, “I recognized her markings. If ye don’t learn tae do that fast out here, ye don’t survive long.”
“With so many forts within a few days’ or weeks’ ride, this area should be settled soon. That’ll make it safer.”
Orin chuckled. “Not soon enough tae suit most folks. Come inside. Meet tha others. Have ae drink, loosen ye jaws, and rest. Me woman will be serving ae good meal in about an hour. Ye be welcome tae buy ae plateful for twenty-five cent. If she likes white food,” he added, nodding at the woman, “ye can buy her ae plateful, too. I don’t mistreat Indians.”
“Little Flower likes to eat her own cooking, but thanks.” He looked at the Indian beauty, whose head and lashes remained lowered. “Woman, set up camp there,” he ordered in a pleasant tone, motioning to the copse Orin had pointed out. “Tend the horses, then stay there. Don’t leave camp. You eat. Don’t cook for me. I’ll return after dark.”
Without lifting her head, Sun Cloud’s daughter nodded in understanding and obeyed swiftly. She loosened the reins of his roan and her Appaloosa, and guided their animals to the river to drink. When they finished, she led them to the wooded area and tethered them there. She began her chores of setting up camp.
“Will these mules and furs be all right here for a spell?” Joe asked.
Orin pulled his attention from the beautiful maiden back to Joe. “Naebody bothers anything around here, Joe. She’s ae pretty one. Ye best keep yere eyes on her, ’r she’ll be stolen by some hot-blooded buck. Follow me. I have some friends for ye tae meet.”
Joe hoped his tension didn’t show, but he was nervous about entering the confined space before him. He prayed Zeke and Farley weren’t inside. He had left his rifle on his saddle, but was wearing his pistol. He flexed his fingers to be ready for action, and he summoned all his senses to full alert.
During
the previous two days, Morning Star had experienced her woman’s flow. She had come prepared with trade cloth for it. Whenever necessary, she had excused herself behind knolls to tend the task. Now she wanted a cleansing bath.
Watching Joe from a distance, Morning Star whispered the same prayer he had. From their assigned location, she could see the fronts of all structures and she was in plain view of anyone inside of them, so a bath had to wait. Although she looked to be busy with chores, she remained ready to spring into action if Joe needed her help. Her eyes and ears had never been more focused on something than the door through which Joe vanished.
Protect him. Great Spirit, she prayed again. I do not like this white man’s world. Help us to find what we seek and to leave here soon.
Chapter Eleven
Joe glanced around the interior of the trading post; it was stocked heavily with anything a man or woman could need in these parts.
“It was rowdy here two days ago,” Orin said, “but it’s quieted down now. Had ae boat stop by tae unload supplies. It was heading upriver tae Union and Benton-American Fur Company posts. Had several company fur buyers along and ae few men seeking thrills in tha wilds. Only have three guests now; I’ll introduce them tae ye soon. They’re in tha back room, drinking and gambling and running their mouths. I sell good aged rye whiskey, not that rot-gut ’r watered-down stuff. I don’t sell it tae Indians because it makes them crazy; that’s why tha boys drink in the back room. If ye tell them ye don’t have any, ye best not show it around and cause trouble. Where’re ye from, Joe?”
“I’ve been trapping northeast of here for the past nine months,” he alleged. “That area wasn’t too good for me, so I decided to try my luck farther west this next season, along the upper Yellowstone and Missouri. If I don’t decide to do something else before then,” he amended with a grin to set his strategy into motion. “I’ve been a sailor and a soldier, and I didn’t like either job. Too many rules and demands. You could say I haven’t found the right opportunity to suit me yet.”
“I doubt ye want tae be heading up that way. I hear trouble is coming this year between tha Crow and Dakotas.”
Joe sent the observer a displeased frown. “If that’s true, it could mess up my other plan,” he muttered, then scowled in feigned displeasure.
“What is that?” Orin questioned as he leaned against the counter.
“I thought about starting a traveling trader business. I figured if I could join up with someone who owns an established post, I could travel around taking orders and delivering them for a nice profit for both of us. I think people— Indians and whites— would buy more goods if they’re brought to their doors. I thought I’d try it out until fall; if I found I didn’t like it, I’d go back to trapping. You interested in such a proposition?”
The red-haired man didn’t take time to think before answering, “That idea sounds as dangerous as yer first one.”
“A man don’t make much money playing it safe. Since you’re sitting in the middle of Indian country, you know you have to take risks to get rich.”
Orin grinned as he fingered his smooth chin. “Ye be right, tae ae point. It’s an interesting idea, but I don’t think this is the season for it. Yere plan will be safer in ae year or two.”
Joe decided to be bold, especially before he entered that back room. “You know a big man named Zeke? Hauls goods in these parts.”
“E’er’body knows Zeke. Why ask about him?”
“I hear he transports most of the supplies in this territory, so I figured I’d better not infringe on his territory without checking him out first. Maybe he’d be interested in having a partner. From what I’ve been told, he knows this area and these people better than anyone.”
“I haven’t seen him in weeks.” He glanced to his left at the closed door before saying, “I’ll warn ye about Zeke: he’s ae loner. He can get mean and odd on ye. I doubt he’ll want tae share earnings with ye ’r anyone. He’s high-priced, but I’ve used him many times because he is dependable. Zeke isn’t scared of anything ’r anyone. I can’t blame him for charging so much; his job is dangerous, especially with those Indians acting up.”
“You have much trouble with them? I noticed your cannons.”
“None sae far. Ne’er had to fire ae shot. They’re tae scare off thieves and renegades. Robbery is ae big threat in ae wilderness. No big problems with the Indians. Tae be honest, I don’t like or dislike them. They’re paying customers like anybody else, sae I’d be foolish tae offend them. And stupid taw rile them. Sometimes they’ll try tae cheat ye, ’r intimidate ye into giving them ae cheaper price ’r goods for free. They know they’re welcome here and I treat them fair. Best way tae get along with one is tae treat him like any other man, if he’ll let ye. That’s why I don’t let them know about tae whiskey; they don’t take kindly ta being lied tae ’r cheated. ’Course, it’s against tha law tae sell whiskey tae Indians, e’en though it’s done all tha time.” Orin changed the subject. “Let’s get our business settled, then ye can join tha others for cards. I pay three dollars ae pound. That suit ye?”
Joe smiled and said, “That’s fair. You want to buy those two mules?”
“I’ll have tae take ae look at them.” He headed for the door.
Joe followed, then watched Orin examine the furs and animals. He glanced at Morning Star, who appeared busy with camp tasks. Yet he sensed her eyes on them, and had to suppress flashing a smile in her direction.
“I can pay ye seven dollars ae piece, and three hundred for tha furs.”
Joe looked at the laden beasts, pretended to think a minute, smiled again, and said, “It’s a deal.” At least he would recover his investment.
“I’ll make ye another offer: if ye decide tae buy ae wagon and supplies tae trade on tha trail, I’ll make ye ae good price on both. If ye live tae see September and ye make good money, we’ll talk about ae partnership then.”
“After I leave, I’ll look around and check out the area and any brewing trouble. If it suits me and appears safe, I’ll return and deal with you. If I’m not back in four weeks, you’ll know it didn’t look good and I moved on.”
“Ye be ae smart man, Joe Lawrence. Let me introduce ye ta tha boys before I unload these furs and corral these mules.”
Joe followed Orin back inside the trading post. The big man halted at the counter; and he took some money from a metal box and paid Joe the amount due. Joe pocketed his earnings and took a deep breath as the older man opened the door to the other room. As soon as Orin’s large frame was out of the way, Joe’s gaze rushed around the area. He was relieved to find that none of the three men present was familiar.
“Tha Army scout is George,” Orin said. “He likes ta take his leave here with tha best women and whiskey.” The soldier nodded, then returned his gaze to his cards. “George doesn’t talk much. I suppose he doesn’t want civilians getting worried about this trouble brewing.” The scout didn’t look up or respond to Orin’s genial remarks. The red-haired man moved on, “That’s Ben; he’s ae prospector. He’s been searching this territory for several years for ae lucky strike.”
“Gonna find me one, too, you’ll see,” the gold seeker declared, then smiled through several missing teeth.
“Not if ye head into them Black Hills like ye’re planning.”
“Don’t be worryin’, Orin. Them Injuns are headin’ fur the Plains as we jaw. Soon as they git outta them hills, I’m takin’ me a look-see. You kin bet yore britches they’s gold in there somewheres. I’m gonna find it.”
“What ye’re going ta find is yer hair missing,” Orin jested.
Ben chuckled and stroked the thinning strands that needed a good washing and brushing, as much as his body and garments needed scrubbing. “Hell’s bullets, them Injuns think I’m crazy! Theys don’t bother no crazy folk. I’ll be back here, rich as a king, afore the leaves are fallin’.”
“I wish ye luck, Ben, but ye best be careful of those Lakotas. They’re real protective and selfis
h with their territory. Ask George; he’ll tell ye tha straight of it.” Getting back to the last introduction, Orin said, “That’s Ephraim; he’s ae trapper like ye, Joe. He’s down early this year. He might know more about tha western area than any of us.”
“You ’tending to trap over my way?” the buckskin-clad man asked, squinting his already beady eyes to examine Joe from head to foot.
“Haven’t decided yet. Trapping sure isn’t good east of here. I came by to sell my furs to Orin, then take a look around. I may get into trading.”
“You wuz smart to come here. Orin’s got the best prices. Them American Fur boys at Benton and Union don’t pay as good as him. I has to haul my pelts further, but Orin makes it worth me while.”
Orin smiled and thanked Ephraim. He motioned to the last person in the room, a woman with blond hair and green eyes. “She’s Mattie Lou. I only have one girl at present. Three more ’r coming by tha fifteenth. Most of tha boys don’t come in until tha end of June or first of July. Mattie Lou is ten dollars for one service, twenty-five dollars for all night. She’s tha best trained pleaser I’ve e’er hired. She can give ye any treat ye want. Right?”
The pretty prostitute sent Joe a seductive smile and agreed with her boss, “Anything you like or want, I’m best at it.”
“I’ll get ye ae drink, Joe; first one’s on tha house. I’m sure tha boys would like ae fourth hand in their card game. Relax. I’ll finish me chores and join ye boys later.” Orin made eye contact with the woman before he served the newcomer a glass of aged rye whiskey. He asked the other customers if they needed anything, and everyone shook their heads no. He left the room and closed the door.
Joe caught the interaction between Orin and Mattie Lou, but did not comprehend its meaning. He sat in the empty chair at the square wooden table. “Good to meet you boys. Don’t get to see many faces when you’re trapping. Right, Ephraim?”
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