When they got there, Running Elk and the men who had been hunting with him were already back. The young warrior was glad to see his sister. He cast a few suspicious glances at Breckinridge when he heard about the ambush and how Dawn Wind had come to his aid. Breck kept his description of the day’s events pretty sketchy in this case, as well.
Running Elk didn’t bother concealing his anger when he spoke after Breckinridge had concluded the story. Breck looked over at Dawn Wind, who translated, “He says he and the other warriors should find this man Carnahan and his friends and kill them all.”
White Owl spoke in a cautionary tone. Again Dawn Wind provided the translation for Breckinridge and Morgan. “My father says that killing white men just leads to more trouble.” Running Elk replied sharply. “And my brother says that some white men need killing.”
“I can’t argue with him about that,” Breckinridge said. “Carnahan and Ralston fit that description, I reckon.”
Running Elk and White Owl wrangled about it some more, then Running Elk stalked off, obviously angry. Breckinridge didn’t need a translation to know that the Crow chief had prevailed in the argument. The warriors would not try to hunt down the party of trappers . . . at least not yet.
Dawn Wind suggested to Breckinridge, “You and Morgan should move your camp here to our village. You will be safer that way.”
“I never figured our safety would be guaranteed when we come to the Rocky Mountains,” Breckinridge said. “Nobody in his right mind would. And if we were stayin’ here, that might just bring trouble down on you and your people.”
Morgan said, “Carnahan and Ralston have more of a grudge against us than they do against you folks. Breck’s right. The best thing for you is if we just go our own way from now on. It might be even better if we found another creek to do our trapping.”
“No,” Breckinridge and Dawn Wind said at the same time. Breck went on hastily, “I don’t reckon we have to go that far.”
Morgan chuckled. “Fine. It was just an idea. I can understand why you feel that way, though. Still, it might be a good idea if we didn’t spend too much time here in the future. We don’t want to give Carnahan even more of an excuse to bother those folks.”
Breckinridge sighed. He knew Morgan was right. The idea of seeing less of Dawn Wind didn’t appeal to him.
But, he reminded himself wryly, he couldn’t really see more of her than he already had.
* * *
Breckinridge had been worried that Carnahan’s bunch might have gone to the camp and stolen everything, but the place appeared to be untouched when he and Morgan got there.
He began to feel sick that night. By the next morning he couldn’t keep anything in his stomach, and the dizziness was even worse than it had been the day before. His head throbbed and spun every time he moved. Morgan hovered around with a worried frown on his face, even though Breckinridge told him to go ahead and check the traplines.
“I don’t care about the pelts,” Morgan said. “Somebody needs to keep an eye on you, Breck. I wish there was a doctor somewhere closer than a thousand miles away.”
“I don’t need a sawbones,” Breckinridge insisted. “I just got a hard wallop on the head, and it’s makin’ me feel poorly. That’s all. I’ll be fine in a day or two.”
“Why don’t I go to the Crow village and get Dawn Wind to come and take care of you?”
Breckinridge started to refuse that suggestion, then thought about it and said, “Well, if you really think you ought to . . .”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
True to his word, Morgan was gone less than an hour. When he returned, he had Dawn Wind with him . . . but Running Elk and an elderly Indian had come along, too.
Dawn Wind dropped to her knees beside Breckinridge where he lay on his bedroll. “This is Badger’s Den,” she introduced the old man. “He is a medicine man of great power.” She rested a hand on Breck’s shoulder. “I thought you were all right, Breckinridge.”
“So did I,” he murmured. “I reckon sometimes gettin’ hit in the head can catch up to you later on.”
Badger’s Den built up the fire and tossed some sort of herbs he took from a hide pouch onto the flames. Whatever the stuff was, it burned with a stink bad enough to make Breckinridge wrinkle his nose when he caught a whiff of the smoke. The old-timer took out a rattle and began to shake it as he shuffled around Breck and chanted words that made no sense. Breck sighed and closed his eyes, figuring maybe he could go to sleep in spite of the racket.
Badger’s Den stopped and bent over to seize Breckinridge’s shoulder in a clawlike hand. He gave it a hard shake that made Breck’s eyes pop open. “What the hell!” he exclaimed.
Badger’s Den jabbered something. Dawn Wind told Breckinridge, “He says you must not sleep. Evil spirits have crept into your brain, and if you sleep, it will give them a chance to build a mighty fortress. Then all of his medicine will not be able to chase them out. So you must stay awake and give what he is doing a chance to work.”
“But I’m mighty tired,” Breckinridge protested.
“I have told you what Badger’s Den said. If you sleep, you may die.”
Breckinridge sighed and muttered some curses under his breath. He said, “All right, all right, I’ll try to stay awake. But I ain’t makin’ no promises.”
Badger’s Den spoke to Running Elk and gestured curtly toward Breckinridge. Running Elk nodded solemnly.
Dawn Wind smiled a little as she said, “Badger’s Den has charged my brother with keeping you awake. Running Elk will take such a responsibility very seriously.”
Breckinridge saw how the young warrior was frowning at him and said, “Yeah, I’ll just bet he will. He’ll take some pleasure in makin’ me miserable, too.”
“That is possible. He has an idea of how I feel about you, Breckinridge, and it does not make him happy.”
“Well, he’s your big brother and all. If he knew everything that happened . . .”
“He does not. But the fact that we were together without clothing would bother him less than knowing how fond I am of you. We care less about things of the body than we do about things of the spirit.”
Morgan said, “Wait just a dang minute! The two of you were together without—”
“Aw, hush up and let Badger’s Den get on with his medicine-makin’,” Breckinridge said.
* * *
Even though the four people taking care of him made sure he stayed awake, Breckinridge was in and out of coherence for the next day and a half. He might not have been asleep, but he had no idea what was going on at times.
Finally, he looked around, realized it was morning, and saw that Badger’s Den was no longer shuffling around him and chanting. He turned his head to look for the old man. The movement didn’t cause any pain or dizziness this time. Emboldened, Breckinridge started to sit up.
Dawn Wind appeared beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. “You must rest,” she told him. “Badger’s Den says the evil spirits are gone from your head and that you will be all right now, but you are still very weak.”
“The old-timer . . . is gone?”
“Yes, he returned to the village last night. And Morgan and my brother have gone to check the traps this morning. Running Elk is going to help with the trapping until you are well again, Breckinridge.”
“I’m mighty obliged to him for that, but he don’t have to do such a thing,” Breckinridge said as he lay back on the pile of blankets where he had been resting for the past couple of days. “I’ll be on my feet in no time.” Something occurred to him now that he was thinking more clearly again. “What about Carnahan? Has there been any sign of him or the rest of his troublemakers?”
Dawn Wind shook her head. “No one has come near the camp. Our hope is that they have finally decided to leave you and Morgan alone.”
“Mine, too.”
“That is another reason Running Elk stayed. He did not think Morgan should be working the traplines alone.” D
awn Wind smiled. “I think you have another partner for the summer, if you want his help.”
“That sounds all right to me. We’ll have to pay him back some way, though. I don’t imagine he’d be interested in a share of the profits.”
“Your friendship will be payment enough, I think.” She paused. “Also, I believe he intends to keep an eye on you and me. The only reason he left us alone today is because you are so weak. He assumes you will not behave improperly.”
“Reckon he’s the only one . . . who ever assumed that about me,” Breckinridge said. “I’m mighty tired. Is it all right to sleep now?”
“Badger’s Den said you could.”
“Damn well about time.” Breckinridge settled back and closed his eyes. He sighed as he felt Dawn Wind’s fingertips lightly brush his forehead. He heard her murmur something as she leaned close to him, but he couldn’t make out the words, and sleep claimed him before he could ask her what she had said.
Chapter 17
It was rare for Breckinridge to be sick for very long, and this case was no exception. After sleeping for several hours and then eating a big meal of biscuits and salt pork, washed down by multiple cups of hot coffee, he felt so much energy flowing back into his body that he had to get up and move around. Dawn Wind told him to be careful and not do too much, but Breck could tell that he was almost back to normal.
Morgan and Running Elk returned to the camp late that afternoon with several beaver they had harvested from the traps. When Morgan saw Breckinridge sitting beside the fire with a cup of coffee in his hand, he grinned and said, “I was hoping you’d be up and around when we got back, Breck. How do you feel?”
“A whole heap better,” Breckinridge replied. “Good enough to skin those beaver and clean the pelts, if you want.”
“We brought ’em in, didn’t we, Running Elk?” Morgan said to his companion. “It’s only fair that Breck do some of the work now that he’s feeling better, isn’t it?”
Running Elk didn’t say anything. He just crossed his arms and regarded Breckinridge solemnly, then turned his gaze to his sister. Dawn Wind spoke to him in the Crow tongue. Running Elk grunted in apparent disbelief, then responded to whatever she had said. She told Breckinridge, “My brother thinks I should return to our people’s village.”
“Maybe you should,” Breckinridge said, although his heart didn’t really agree with that sentiment. “You’ve been gone for several days, takin’ care of me.”
“I feared for your life,” Dawn Wind said. “And my life would no longer be complete without you, Breckinridge.”
That comment made worry stir inside him. It sounded mighty like she was telling him she loved him. The last woman who had told him that . . .
He shoved the thought away. The past was over and done with and ought not to have anything to do with the present. His main concern about the way Dawn Wind felt was the knowledge that one day he would be moving on. Since leaving home, he hadn’t been the sort to stay in a place for very long. That might change someday, when he was older and started feeling like he ought to settle down, but he wasn’t ready for that now.
He needed to be careful and not lead her on. He didn’t want her to believe they would be together forever. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. In the long run, the kindest thing to do would be to make sure she didn’t get too attached to him.
Gruffly, he said, “Yeah, you go on back home. I’ll let you know if I need you.”
Hurt flared in her eyes at his tone and his words. But she said, “You should be careful and take care of your head—”
“I’ll be fine,” he interrupted curtly. “Thanks for your help.”
She regarded him intently for a moment with a mixture of anger and confusion on her face, then nodded and said, “Good-bye, Breckinridge.”
“So long,” he said offhandedly.
Dawn Wind snapped something at her brother in their language. Running Elk glared at Breckinridge, but there was nothing new about that. Both of them turned and walked away from the camp, heading back toward their village.
Morgan frowned at Breckinridge and asked, “What the hell was that about, Breck? All of a sudden, you acted like you don’t give a damn about that girl, and after all she’s done for you!”
“That ain’t true at all. She just needs to get on with her life and stop worryin’ about me.”
“She’s just afraid you aren’t right in the head yet.” Morgan snorted. “I have to say, I’m not sure I disagree with her.”
Breckinridge turned away. Dawn Wind had told him to take care of his head, and Morgan had just said sort of the same thing. Breck knew, though, that if there was a problem, it didn’t lie in his head.
It was his heart he had to worry about.
* * *
Thankfully, there was a lot of work to do. That kept Breckinridge’s mind off any potential trouble with Dawn Wind. She didn’t show up at the camp, and Breck and Morgan were kept busy working their traplines.
After what had happened, Breckinridge didn’t expect Running Elk to show up and help them anymore, but he was wrong about that. The young warrior trotted up to their camp every morning and accompanied them when they went to check their traps. Whenever Breck and Morgan needed to split up, Running Elk went with Morgan so he wouldn’t have to be alone in case of an ambush. The two of them quickly became friends and learned how to communicate with sign language and a few words of each other’s tongue. Running Elk still didn’t seem to like Breck very much, but Breck didn’t mind that. He avoided the Crow village, not wanting to see Dawn Wind again. Morgan visited the village at times, but Breck stayed away.
After several weeks, Morgan said over supper one night, “You’ve got to do something about this, Breck.”
“About what?” Breckinridge asked in apparent innocence, although he had a hunch he knew what his friend was talking about.
“About this staying away from the Crows, especially Dawn Wind. Running Elk told me today that she’s been sad ever since you ran her off.”
“I didn’t run her off. And the way Runnin’ Elk feels about me, I’d think he would be glad I ain’t been havin’ anything to do with his sister.”
“What are you talking about?” Morgan said. “Running Elk likes you.”
“Are you loco? He looks at me like he wants to take his knife and carve my gizzard out!”
Morgan laughed and shook his head. “That’s just his way. As far as I can tell, he thinks you’re a fine fellow. He just doesn’t like the way you’ve made Dawn Wind unhappy.”
“It’ll make her a whole lot more unhappy when fall comes and we got to leave these parts and go back to St. Louis.” Breckinridge stared into the fire, knowing he shouldn’t be doing that because it would ruin his night vision for a while. He was lost in visions of his own, though, visions of the past and of possible futures.
“So that’s it,” Morgan said.
“What’s it?”
“You’re still upset about whatever happened with Dulcy.”
Breckinridge’s gaze snapped away from the flames and over to Morgan. “I told you I don’t intend to talk about that.”
“You’re hurt, and you don’t want to risk getting hurt again.” Morgan blew out a breath. “All that talk about wanting to protect Dawn Wind’s feelings, when it’s really yourself you want to protect!”
“Aw, the hell with this!” Breckinridge said as he got to his feet and caught up his rifle. “I’m gonna go scout around a mite.”
“In the dark?”
“What better time? Ain’t no tellin’ what might be lurkin’ out there.”
“It’s not going to change anything, Breck. You can’t get away from whatever it is that’s bothering you.”
Maybe not, Breckinridge thought as he stalked off into the woods, but he could damn sure try to ignore it.
Since the day he’d been shot, they had seen no sign of Jud Carnahan, Gordon Ralston, or any of the other trappers who had turned into deadly enemies. It appear
ed that Carnahan’s bunch had moved on to some other part of this vast valley. There were plenty of creeks teeming with beaver ripe for the taking. Breckinridge believed there was a good chance that he would run into Carnahan and Ralston sometime in the future, possibly back in St. Louis, but he hoped if that happened, it would be far away from Dawn Wind, Running Elk, White Owl, and his other friends among the Crow. They didn’t deserve to be in danger because of any grudges held against him.
Even though those thoughts were going through his head, his senses were on alert as he circled through the woods around the camp. He kept moving farther and farther out until he remembered that Morgan was back there by himself. They had been trying to stick together, and here Breckinridge had gone off on his own again without thinking, just because he was upset. He turned and was about to start back when he stopped in his tracks.
For a second he wasn’t sure what had caught his attention. Then he heard it again: a faint cry floating through the night air, followed by another and then another.
They were coming from the direction of the Crow village.
As Breckinridge stiffened and listened intently, he began to tell a difference in the shouts. Some were angry, some were frightened. But they all told him the same thing.
Something was wrong over there. Terribly wrong.
He didn’t stop to think about it. He just plunged through the woods toward the village, heedless of any obstacles that might be in his way. He was willing to risk dashing his brains out on a tree trunk or a low-hanging branch if it meant he could get there sooner.
His first thought was that Carnahan and the other trappers might have attacked the Crows in retaliation for the help they had given him and Morgan earlier in the season. But he didn’t hear any gunfire, and he was sure he would have if white men had been responsible for the trouble.
That left Breckinridge uncertain as to what was going on, but he felt sure it couldn’t be anything good. As he came closer and heard screams mixed in with the shouts, he was more convinced of that than ever.
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