Teton Romance Trilogy Bundle: Includes Yellowstone Proposal (Short Story)

by Peggy L Henderson

  Several other men who apparently stood close enough to hear the exchange cheered. It seemed to only encourage Sabin, and he grabbed for Evelyn’s arm.

  In a move faster than Evelyn could comprehend, Laurent pointed a pistol at Sabin’s head.

  “Those trade goods you speak of belong to me as much as they do to you, mon ami. Remember that I was part of that raid, and the cargo belongs to us all equally.”

  “Yet you keep the woman for yourself,” Sabin shouted angrily.

  “I am the one who found her aboard the boat, so therefore, yes; she is mine to do with as I please. She was not part of the raid.” Laurent didn’t waver. His hard stare dared any of the men to contradict him.

  “But very well,” he continued after several tense moments, and shrugged. He lowered his weapon, and reached for Evelyn’s arm, pulling her from the horse. A wave of dizziness swept over her when her feet touched the ground, and for a moment she thought she might black out. Laurent tightened his grip on her arm to steady her.

  “Spread the word that Laurent Berard has brought this beautiful white woman who goes by the name of Evelyn Lewis to rendezvous, and I will entertain all offers for her.” Like a theater actor, he swept his hand out in front of him in a dramatic gesture, pronouncing Evelyn’s name in his peculiar French accent. He scanned the large crowd of men that had formed around them.

  “Bidding will begin in one hour.” His words were barely audible above the eager shouts of dozens of rough and eager-looking mountain men. Evelyn couldn’t bear to look. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her head felt as if it was made of lead. All she wanted to do was sink to the ground and allow sleep to overtake her. Perhaps then this nightmare would end.

  Laurent led her further into camp, stopping next to a group of willow bushes.

  “Rest here, mademoiselle. You will need all your strength.” He pushed her to the ground.

  Evelyn raised her head and glared at him through unfocused eyes. “If you have even one shred of decency in you, you foul, disgusting excuse for a human being, you’ll take that pistol you’re so fond of and put a bullet through my temple.”

  Laurent stared down at her, then burst out laughing. “I cannot do that, mademoiselle. You are much too valuable for that.”

  Evelyn shot him a look of pure contempt, then turned her head and closed her eyes. Tears of despair squeezed through between her closed eyelids, and rolled down her cheeks. Glad for the fever that ravaged her body, making her mind nearly numb with delirium, she leaned back against the branches of the willow. She’d barely closed her eyes when a sharp tap on her shoulder startled her awake.

  “It is time, mademoiselle,” Laurent whispered in her ear.

  “What?” Evelyn croaked. She forced her eyes open. Men stood all around her, eager and hungry looks in their eyes. She’d just closed her eyes. Was the hour up already?

  Laurent helped her to her feet, and she stood facing dozens of rough and unkempt-looking mountain men. A shiver ran down her spine. Sabin stood at the front of the group. Evelyn tried to lift her chin and square her shoulders, but it was too much of an effort. She tuned out Laurent’s voice as he asked for someone to make him an offer. The voices became louder and more boisterous, and Evelyn shut out the noise as best as she could.

  A sudden loud uproar from the men made her lift her head to see what the renewed commotion was all about. Men stepped aside, and Evelyn’s gaze locked on a man pushing his way to the front. Broad-shouldered but of average height, he carried himself with a certain confidence that seemed to be lacking in most of these other men. He was just as unkempt as the rest of them, his long thick black hair falling nearly to his shoulders, and most of his face obscured by a bushy beard.

  “What did you say?” Laurent exclaimed next to her.

  “I’ll give you half a year’s beaver pelts for her,” the man said in a deep and resonating voice. The roar of the men around him increased. He didn’t look at her, but instead glared at Laurent as if he intended to kill the man with his stare alone.

  “You can’t barter pelts for her. They belong to the Rocky Mountain Fur Company.” Sabin sneered and tried to block the other man’s way. “B’sides, since when have you ever wanted to trade for a woman?”

  “Since I decided I want this one,” the dark man answered gruffly. “And my pelts are mine to do with as I choose.”

  He stepped forward and grabbed Evelyn’s arm, pulling her away from the half-circle of men. He stopped and turned toward Laurent.

  “I’ll settle up with you in a little while.” His tone implied more than paying for what he had just bought.

  Evelyn darted a frantic glance at Laurent, whose mustache twitched as he smiled triumphantly. She tried to pull away from the menacing man’s grip, but he held firm. She had no strength left in her. Her head pounded, and her world began to spin. Her legs felt like bread pudding, but she forced one foot in front of the other as he dragged her away from the crowd

  Evelyn didn’t care anymore what happened to her. Her mind was too tired, and her body weak from the fever that had plagued her for two days. She simply wished she could curl up and die. Her legs suddenly gave out, and she stumbled. Before she hit the ground, the gruff mountain man who now owned her scooped her in his arms. For a moment, Evelyn stared up into the trapper’s deep blue eyes, which were partly obstructed by thick strands of black hair. His dense black beard covered most of his facial features.

  Evelyn blinked, trying to keep him in focus, but his face suddenly became a blur.

  “Alex,” she whispered, just before her world went dark.

  Chapter 4

  “What the hell were you thinking, bringing her here?” Alex roared and charged at the man who stood next to his horse, unwrapping the leather girth straps from around the animal’s belly. Laurent Berard spun around on his heels. Before he could react, Alex grabbed the Frenchman by the front of his shirt, his momentum sending both of them against the horse. The animal sidestepped nervously, and Laurent nearly lost his balance. Alex grimaced, his face inches from his wide-eyed opponent. His fists dug into the slightly shorter man’s collarbones. Laurent stared back at Alex.

  “I had no choice, Walker,” he said between gritted teeth, and grabbed hold of Alex’s wrists in an attempt to loosen the grip.

  Locked in a duel of strength, Alex refused to back away. He leaned toward Laurent in an attempt to unbalance him, but the Frenchman had squared his legs in a way that made it impossible to budge him. The slow smirk on Laurent’s face only served to infuriate Alex more.

  He was tired as hell, and had been looking forward to a nice long nap. Two nights ago, he had successfully stolen back all the horses that the Blackfeet had stolen from him and his six traveling companions. He’d ended up with a few extra animals that he planned to trade at rendezvous. The party of Blackfeet was too small to dare an attack on this large gathering, so he wasn’t worried about being followed. Hundreds of trappers from all over the Rockies were already congregated here, along with countless Indians from various tribes. Alex hadn’t much cared to find out who had already arrived. He would look for acquaintances later. He especially wanted to seek out Aimee Osborne, and ask her to remove the buckshot from his chest.

  After an all-night ride to reach the site of this summer’s rendezvous, a small valley some hundred miles from the mountain range the Shoshoni called the Teewinots, Alex had been looking forward to a day of sleep. He and his fellow trappers had arrived in camp before dawn, and after tending their stock, had simply spread their bedrolls on the ground. There would be time to set up a more permanent camp later.

  He’d just fallen asleep when that meddlesome Yancey called to him, his voice full of excitement and going on about the talk in camp over a white woman who apparently had the misfortune of being caught on the river by a group of thugs. Alex had rolled over under his blanket and threatened to put a bullet in Yancey’s head if he didn’t leave him in peace.

  “The Frenchman, Laurent Berard, is making a bi
g show of bartering her to the highest bidder,” Yancey continued. “He wanted it announced throughout camp that he had a white woman by the name of Evelyn Lewis. I think this sort of thing is downright barbaric, and . . .”

  Whatever else Yancey had said was lost to Alex. A jolt of adrenaline had surged through him at hearing the name. It was impossible that Yancey had misspoken. What were the odds that there was another Evelyn Lewis? If it was the same girl who haunted him in his dreams, how could she possibly end up here, of all places?

  Alex didn’t waste time to contemplate the question. He made sure his pistol was loaded and stuffed in the belt around his waist, and fingered the elk antler handle of his knife. Dashing through camp, he weaved between tents and lean-tos, and soon saw where all the commotion was coming from. Dozens of men gathered in a semi-circle, whooping and hollering. Laurent’s distinct voice, trying to calm the crowd, reverberated over the others.

  She barely looked like the girl he remembered seeing in St. Charles a few months ago. Her hair that had shone like spun gold that day at the docks now hung listless and dull from her head. She appeared pasty and frail. Her slight body, dressed in men’s breeches and shirt, swayed like a young sapling in the wind, an occasional shiver coursing noticeably through her. Every now and then, her head jerked up, revealing her terror-filled eyes.

  Rage such as he’d never felt before coursed through Alex. His blood pounded through the veins in his temples, and the muscles tensed throughout his body. He wanted to kill each and every one of these men who leered at the helpless girl, their intentions only too obvious. There was only one way he could get Evelyn safely away from these men, and Alex pushed his way through the crowd. He didn’t stop to give another man a chance at her, and offered a price that he felt confident no one would meet. If need be, he was prepared to double his offer. One look at Evelyn Lewis, and he knew he’d give his life for her at that moment. The naked fear in her eyes reminded him of his mother each time she faced his drunken father. Alex hadn’t been able to keep her safe. He was not going to fail this time.

  “What has gotten into you, mon ami?” Laurent shouted, startling Alex to loosen his grip on the man’s shirt. With a forceful shove, he pushed the Frenchman away from him, releasing his hold. Laurent hastily straightened his shirt, and glared at Alex, then his mustache twitched and he smiled broadly.

  “How the hell is it that she is here, Laurent?” Alex demanded. He inhaled a deep breath to calm his nerves, and turned his head slightly to the side.

  “It is not something I planned, I assure you,” Laurent said, and pulled his coonskin cap from his head, slapping it against his thigh.

  “Jed Smith asked you to go to St. Louis to try and find out what those thieves from the American Fur Company were up to, not to abduct white women to barter here at rendezvous.”

  Laurent scoffed. “You know as well as I that I would never wish such a fate on any woman, much less one as lovely as Mademoiselle Lewis. She gave me no alternative but to bring her along.”

  “Explain yourself, Laurent.” Alex glared at the Frenchman.

  Laurent nodded. He turned and pulled the saddle from his horse’s back, and tossed it against a nearby tree trunk. “Walk with me, my friend,” he said quietly, and his eyes darted around as if looking for someone. “I do not wish to be overheard.” He headed in the direction of the woods, leaving Alex no choice but to follow if he wanted some answers.

  “I trust the young lady is safe?” Laurent asked after several minutes of silence.

  “I left her with Aimee Osborne,” Alex grumbled. His chest suddenly tightened at the memory of Evie in his arms. Just before she lost consciousness, she’d looked him in the eyes and recognized him. Alex was startled to see renewed fear in those green eyes of hers. He’d never been close enough to Henry’s sister to notice the color of her eyes, not that he’d ever been interested in that sort of thing before.

  “She will be well cared for.” Laurent nodded in approval. “I could do nothing for her while we traveled over the mountains,” he added quickly, and shot a hasty look at Alex. “I could not reveal my cover. Surely you understand.”

  Alex’s eyebrows pulled together. “Start at the beginning, Laurent.”

  Laurent nodded. “I met up with Oliver Sabin’s crew shortly after I arrived in St. Louis,” he began. “A quick demonstration of my knife and pistol skills, and they were more than willing to hire me on.”

  “Sabin and his men have been sabotaging Jeb Smith’s supply boats for years,” Alex remarked. “How did Evie . . . Evelyn Lewis end up on one of those boats?”

  Laurent’s twitching lips and twinkling eyes didn’t escape Alex’s notice. He clenched his jaw.

  Laurent cleared his throat. “Her brother sought the services of Sabin and his men.”

  “Henry Lewis?” Alex raised his eyebrows. He remembered his childhood friend’s eagerness to join him on his adventure in the wilderness, but duty to his family prevented him from going along. Had he finally decided to give up his life as a farmer? That still didn’t explain how Evie ended up with Laurent.

  “Shortly before the boat departed, I noticed a young woman disguised as a boy get on board. I intercepted her. You can appreciate my surprise when she revealed her name, and that she was trying to follow her brother.”

  Laurent stopped walking. He turned fully toward Alex. A wide smile spread across his face. “I have done you a great service, mon ami.” His teeth gleamed white in the sunlight.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Alex avoided Laurent’s much-too perceptive stare.

  “Mademoiselle Lewis. She is the lady you have talked about, no? You refuse to return to St. Louis. I have brought her to you.”

  Alex cursed under his breath. He should have never discussed his time in St. Charles. The meddlesome Frenchman had insisted on knowing why Alex had returned to Jackson’s Hole with a bullet in his chest. His body had been combating a fever, and in his delirium he must have talked about seeing Evelyn. Laurent had relentlessly pestered him for information afterwards. Laurent, a free trapper, had been his friend for years, and Alex had spent several winters at the Frenchman’s cabin that he’d built at the base of Les Trois Tetons.

  “I don’t want her here.” Alex forced the words from his mouth. “She should be at home, safe on her folks’ farm.”

  “And marry the man her brother chose for her? A man she does not love?”

  Alex’s head shot up. His eyes narrowed. “Why would Henry choose a husband for her. Where is he, anyhow?”

  Laurent studied him before he spoke. “Henry Lewis is dead. Sabin killed him. There was nothing I could do to prevent it. I have done my best to keep the little mademoiselle safe from Sabin and his men. I knew you would be here when we arrived, and I made sure her name spread through camp. I was certain that you would come and claim her as your own when you heard.”

  Alex ran a hand up the nape of his neck. The last thing he wanted was Evie here in the wilderness, near all these trappers and mountain men, and least of all, near him.

  “Why couldn’t you simply scare her off that boat?” Alex’s mind churned. What was he going to do with her? There was no denying that she stirred feelings in him that were as foreign as an encounter with a friendly Blackfoot. He’d felt similar stirrings the day he saw her in St. Charles, and although her appearance was vastly different today than the woman he had seen then, holding her in his arms had ignited a longing deep inside him unlike anything he’d ever felt.

  Laurent let out a bark-like laugh. “Walker, do you really believe that she would have simply returned home if I had chased her off that boat? She would have found another vessel; mark my words. That little mademoiselle has a spark in her that is not so easily squelched.”

  Alex gnashed his teeth in frustration. He remembered Henry’s little sister as a plucky girl, annoying and meddlesome. She’d often tag along when he and Henry went off into the woods. He’d simply chosen to ignore her back then.

  “Why
would she follow Henry into the wilderness?” he wondered out loud.

  Laurent’s eyes widened briefly. He tilted his head to the side and then leaned toward Alex. “Why, to kill you, my friend.”

  *****

  Evelyn slowly forced her eyelids open. Her lips parted slightly, and she raked her teeth against her dried lips. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her parched mouth, and she couldn’t swallow. She moaned softly, and forced her legs to move. A sharp pain seared up her spine, and when she tried to bring her hand to her face, her arm felt as if lead anchors were attached to the limb.

  Blinking, she stared up at what appeared to be the covering of a cone-shaped tent. She turned her head and glanced at the animal skins that served as walls in the dimly lit space. Evelyn groaned and braced against her elbows to raise herself up off the ground. A thick furry hide covered her, which fell from her shoulders. She shuddered at the sudden blast of cold air against her skin.

  Evelyn sucked in a startled breath, and hastily pulled the cover back over herself. She was nude! Her heart pounded fiercely against her chest, and she gasped for air. Dear God! What happened?

  Holding the fur tightly against her body, she rolled to her side and sat up. The blood rushed from her head, and she braced one hand against the ground to stave off the dizziness. She tried to blink away the black swirls in front of her eyes. Frantically, she scanned the interior of the tent, hoping to spot her clothing. More furs were piled in heaps across from her at the other side of the tent, and several large leather pouches leaned against each other. An assortment of wooden bowls littered the ground.

  The beating of her heart increased. Memories of the weeks of traveling through the mountains with those vile mountain men flooded her mind. Henry was dead. The Frenchman, Laurent, had sold her like a steer at auction to the highest bidder. That barbarian who bid for her had carried her off, much of his face covered in thick black hair. Those blue eyes of his had stared down at her as if he could see right through her. They were familiar eyes; the eyes of the boy she had lost her youthful heart to all those years ago. He looked exactly like the savage Henry predicted he had become.