by J. R. WRIGHT
Stick by Pierre, Luke. He is a kind, giving gentleman that has been a comfort to me whenever I needed a friend. I will tell Pierre of the money, just in case Hans gives you any trouble with handing it over when the time comes. It would please me to know you spent it getting far away from Hans and the Blue Bear.
I love you, son. This is goodbye.
Abigail
Luke broke into tears and through blurred vision read parts of the letter again before putting it back into the envelope and returning it to the box. He fingered through the things again and removed the ring. He would place it on Breanne’s finger this very night, to honor his mother’s wishes. And if Breanne wanted it done proper, he would do that too, even though he had never been one to appreciate preachers, the way he’d often seen them on occasion, shouting fire and brimstone out front of the Blue Bear. They seemed like angry people.
Pierre came to the room a short time later to inform Luke that the mules were put away safe at a livery a few blocks away.
“I’ll be visiting a saloon or so; maybe Bill Cooper will show his face. I suppose tomorrow we should look about for what supplies we’ll need for the trip.”
After Pierre left, Luke took the sixty dollars from the box and put it in his money pouch. He would use it to buy some nice things for Breanne while here. He figured that would make his mother proud, as well.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was decided over a hearty breakfast the following morning, in one of the many eateries along River Street, that their final camp would be somewhere in the Red River country. This area in northern Indian Territory, as declared in the Treaty of 1830, had been trapped by the French down from Canada years earlier, but when Zebulon Pike came through on his expedition, he drove the French out. Because of the great distance to the area from the south or west, it was doubtful any of the fur companies had reclaimed the area for trapping, and the beaver population should have multiplied, Pierre reasoned.
“Besides, I don’t expect any law will be looking for us way up there.”
“Not unless they see us go,” Luke said.
“They may see us go, but they won’t know where we get off the boat along the way. Most go further up river. We’ll be getting off at the mouth of the Big Sioux. It’ll be straight north by wagon from there.”
“How long will it take?”
“Not sure,” Pierre said. “A month, maybe. Should get there in plenty time for spring trapping. The beavers will be in prime that far north till June at least.”
“Then we’ll get in a couple of months trapping.”
“Or more. Depends on the weather. That north country can be freakish. Might still be snow come May.” Pierre was judging by the time he spent with the Mandan Indians at least two hundred miles to the west of where he planned to go.
Pierre noticed Breanne toying with a ring on her finger that he recognized as having been Abigail’s. “Did you get yourselves hitched?” He glanced at the two of them and saw their faces light up.
“Sorta,” Luke finally said.
“Indians do it the same way, ‘cept they use a bear claw necklace or other trinket to show their women are taken.”
“It was his mother’s,” Breanne hissed proudly.
“Did you locate that Bill Cooper?” Luke asked moments later.
“Next best thing. I located the saloon he drinks in most often. Just a matter of time now.”
“We going to start buying supplies today?”
“Nope,” Pierre said. “Not good to buy on the first visit. The price will go down the longer we wait. Today we just look.”
“If you want to do that, I’d like to just walk the town with Breanne today, unless you need me?”
“Naw, you go ahead,” Pierre said to them, smiling broadly. “I’ll do fine alone.”
After visiting two general stores and finding only dresses for fuller bodied women, they were directed to a dress shop where they found much of the same. However, here they could be altered to fit. After trying on several, Breanne chose three, a green plaid made of wool, a chocolate cotton with puffy sleeves, and a frilly white silk. And she seemed elated with her choices until Luke paid the bill. It all came to forty six dollars and change.
“Oh, Luke, no! I won’t let you spend that much on me.”
“Consider it a gift from my mother. She left me some money for just such an occasion.” After all, they were away from Hans and the Blue Bear, and that was his mother’s dream.
“Well, then thank her for me,” she laughed as best she could. “What was her name?”
“Abigail.”
“Pretty!”
“Yep, but Breanne is pretty too.”
“It’s Irish. My mother was Irish. She got to name me at least before she died.” Her eyes got all teary.
“And your father?”
“Pa was French,” she said bitterly.
“Here I am married to the most beautiful woman in the world, and I don’t even know her last name.”
“McKinney,” she said teasingly. “My name is Breanne McKinney, Luke.”
“Yep, it is,” he said, then reached to peck her on the cheek, as they strolled down the street.
She leaned in to receive it, then said, “Bruyere. It’s Breanne Bruyere.”
“Nice! It kinda rhymes.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t ever want to hear it again.”
To switch the conversation from an obviously touchy subject, he said, “I saw you admiring a steamer trunk at that first store. What say we go get it? You’ll need something to put your things in.”
“Oh Luke, it was twelve dollars!”
“After Pierre killed Hans, he robbed his safe of several thousand in gold. Most of it was money he had coming, but some was meant for you, for all he’d done to you.”
“I don’t want anything from that man!”
“Then I’ll buy the trunk with my money,” he said to ease her concerns. “And a bottle of that rose water I saw you admiring.”
She smiled. “Nellie had some of that she let me use. It will remind me of her. Thank you, Luke.”
Once in the store, however, Luke came across many other items they needed, or would need in the North Country. For sure Breanne needed some rugged boots. Those shoes she wore just would not cut it. And new flannels were needed for the both of them, and wool socks, and gloves, and heavy coats to replace the tattered ones they had.
Sometime later, toting the trunk with their many purchases inside, they bumped into Pierre on the busy street. He rushed up as if he was searching for them, and he was.
“Found Bill Cooper,” he said joyfully. “He came into that saloon I told you about. Expects to be leaving in about ten days, if this warm spell continues. His boat will be loaded with supplies already booked to go to the trading forts up river, but he’ll fit us in.”
“That’s good news,” Luke said and looked to Breanne, who seemed extremely pleased with the prospect of getting underway as well.
“We’ll need to camp on deck is all,” Pierre said. “Cabins and bunks are all taken.”
“Breanne and me can sleep in the wagon,” Luke suggested.
“Or under it,” Pierre said. “He wants me to help out with the cooking for as far as we’re going. He has no problem with us being dropped at the Big Sioux River.”
The day of loading came a week later. Luke and Pierre spent the morning shuttling to the various supply houses, loading the items Pierre had purchased throughout the week. It consisted of a hundred traps, new buckskin outfits for the three of them, bags of salt, wheat flour, corn meal, rice and beans, three additional rifles, a dozen mackinaw blankets, and a wide array of trade goods just in case they should come across friendly Indians to trade with. And then there were the five barrels of whiskey. That too, would be used for trading, once watered down to a quarter of its original strength. Each barrel could be worth as much as fifty beaver pelts when figured that way.
Three days later at daybreak, they left the rooming house f
or the last time. That morning, once a full head of steam had been gathered, they would be underway. The ice was near all gone from the edges of the river, and the Missouri Bell floated free for the first time since Christmas last year.
With the wagon properly blocked and the mules safely in the stock corral at the opposite end of the boat, Breanne and Luke stood together at the rail awaiting cast-off.
“Are you ready, Missus McKinney?”
“I am, Mister McKinney,” she said, standing proudly in her new green plaid dress, its ruffled hem brushing at the deck in the breeze.
Although Luke had marveled at the steamboats coming and going from St. Louis for years, he had never traveled aboard one. It was even more exciting than he had imagined as they backed away from the levee and the big wheel reversed to move them upstream. Breanne slid her arm around his waist and danced with glee as they headed up river. Once moving forward, she never again looked back. All of her hopes and dreams lay ahead of her now, and that’s where she focused her entire attention.
“The Missouri is a shifty one,” Captain Cooper said when he came by to introduce himself. “She changes her mind with every season. What channel we took on her last trip may be too shallow this time. That’s why we can travel parts of her only in daylight. Even then at times I need to keep a man on her bow to guide us.”
“I’m Bill Cooper, ma’am.” The white haired, rather debonair, bearded man tipped his hat.
“Missus McKinney,” Breanne smiled.
“Luke.” He extended a hand which was taken heartily.
“Pierre tells me you’re all heading up to the North Country to do some trapping?”
“Yep,” Luke said proudly.
“Well then, I wish you luck.” He tipped his hat again and moved along to other passengers, none of which were females. Breanne seemed to be the only one aboard.
Luke went to the wagon and began preparing a bed beneath it. Once that was finished, he completely skirted the wagon with some of the mackinaw blankets Pierre had purchased as trading goods. When finished, he invited Breanne into the cozy space where they near immediately made love. It was only fitting they did so now in celebration of this most joyous occasion! It seemed for the first time in either of their short lives, they were truly free. Free to guide their destiny. But mostly, free of Hans and the Blue Bear. That alone was glorious beyond belief.
Had they been looking back when steaming out of port, they may have spotted a steamboat fresh in from St. Louis, pulling into the very spot at the levee they just left. At this very moment, Jeb Dunlap and two of his deputies were walking the streets of Independence asking a lot of questions of merchants about the three of them.
“It’s an old Frenchman with two younger ones, a boy and a girl, both with hair the color of winter grass. The girl has silver wires in her teeth.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Breanne couldn’t seem to get enough of standing at the rail, especially when Luke was off visiting with other passengers, or helping Pierre in the galley. She found the anticipation of what scenery may appear around the next bend of the river exciting. That is, until an Indian village suddenly came into view. The alarming potential for danger sent her scurrying beneath the wagon, where she covered herself completely with the buffalo robe.
“Young lady,” a male voice said. “They are Omaha. Quite harmless, I assure you.”
Slowly she pulled the robe aside to find a bearded man dressed all in black glaring down at her.
“Come on out and look, before it’s too late.” He reached out a hand.
Cautiously, she eased back to the rail, holding firmly onto the offered hand, and with wide eyes watched as the people of the small village milled about the teepees, seemingly with little concern for them as they passed slowly by. Smoldering fires, some with poles crossing over bearing strips of meat, created smoke that filled the valley like an early morning fog. A baby’s cry came from somewhere. A skinny brown dog tugged at the rawhide strap that bound him to a tree near the water’s edge.
“Like I said, they’re Omaha. I lived among them for a summer.”
“Why?” She pursed her lips so the wires wouldn’t show. Frankly, she was tired of people asking about them.
“To bring the word of God to those uncivilized heathens, ma’am. They need to know it’s a sin to offer up their women freely to any stranger that happens by, among other things.”
“You’re a preacher?” Breanne glanced at the beanpole man who looked a bit uncivilized himself, with that mop of coal black hair and bushy beard that near totally consumed his face.
“Mormon missionary, ma’am. Signore Pearson is the name.” He smiled broadly and poked out a boney hand.
Breanne took the hand and gave it a brief shake. Being not so sure she liked this man, she gave him another quick glance, then started to move away. Who cares if those Indians shared their women with outsiders, if it pleased them! Why shouldn’t they have the right to live life as they choose? And what made that so different than what went on at the Blue Bear?
“I didn’t catch your name, ma’am?” Pearson said to her back.
With that, Breanne halted and chose her words carefully. She didn’t wish to be labeled a heathen as well, even though she felt somewhat like one now.
“Missus Luke McKinney.” She turned and tossed her head high.
“My, you don’t look old enough for marriage,” he said accusingly.
“I’m… I’m eighteen,” she lied. Actually she wouldn’t even be seventeen for another month or so. “But I don’t know as it’s your concern!”
Again she turned and moved away.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Pearson said. “I didn’t mean to offend you, but aren’t you a little worried? This is no country for a female, especially one as young as you.”
He watched her climb back under the wagon and gather the blankets closed. He glared at the enclosure for a short time before shaking his head and moving on. But then, after only a few steps, he turned and went up to the wagon.
“Ma’am, my church is sending me into country no other Mormon missionary has been before,” he spoke to the colorful blankets. “And to tell you the truth, I’m scared senseless. And that’s why I said what I said. I just figured if I’m scared, a pretty young thing like you ought to be terrified.”
“Well, I’m not! I got my husband to protect me,” she spoke to the blankets. “And Pierre is good with a gun too.”
“Well, then would you mind if I tagged along with you?” he said, and laughed nervously.
“That would be up to Luke and Pierre.”
“What would be up to Luke and Pierre?” Luke said as he came up from behind with two plates of bacon, beans, and rice from the galley, and handed one through the blankets to Breanne.
“I’m a Mormon missionary, sir. The name is Pearson. As I was telling the Missus… Well, if you’re going where there’s Indians… I assume you’re Mister McKinney…?”
“Yep.” Luke spooned in some beans.
“Well, then maybe if you’re going anywhere close to Indian encampments, then I was wondering, could I tag along?”
“Do you have your own gear?”
“I do. In fact that fine horse in the corral aft is mine. Well, actually it belongs to the church…”
“That red stallion?”
“Oh, no sir. Mine, I’m afraid, is no measure to that fine horse. I’m told that one is going to Fort Pierre. Shipped all the way from England through New Orleans and on to Independence last year.”
“Then yours is the gray roan mare?” Luke said, since there were only two horses, along with the six mules and milk cow, in the corral.
“Yes, and I’m afraid now she may be pregnant. That stallion has mounted her three times, that I know of, since we left port yesterday.
Hearing that from under the wagon, Breanne smiled. Sounded about right, unless she missed one in her sleep.
“I don’t see why Pierre would object, but I best ask him first,” Luke finally s
aid to Pearson’s request.
“Good. Then when you’ve talked to this Pierre, you let me know.”
“Sure.”
That evening Pierre came by to gather his bedroll from the wagon. Having been invited to bunk in the crew quarters, he was moving from the wagon to the deck above. Now that he would have fresh ears for his stories, he was anxious to get back. Luke did, however, manage to delay him long enough to ask about the missionary. His response was quick and given as he walked away.
“He can come if he doesn’t preach. Can’t take preaching for more than a minute or two.”
“Me neither!” Luke said to Breanne, since Pierre was already out of earshot. “But he doesn’t seem that way. At least not yet.”
“I didn’t like him much to start,” Breanne said. “But now I feel kind of sorry for him. He’s scared, Luke.”
“Scared of what?”
“Indians, I guess.”
“I suppose some of them tribes a person ought to be frightful of. But Pierre says most of them are good natured to a point.”
“To what point?”
“Well, I guess it means you best not pull any funny stuff,” he laughed.
“That’s good to know,” she pulled him over for a kiss. That stallion story the preacher told got her a little worked up, and she was hoping Luke would take her to bed early, before the boat docked for the night. She found the vibration to the deck from the engine quite sensational while making love.
During the night, Luke awoke to some noise from the wagon above them and thought to get up and investigate. But by the time he got his trousers on, whoever was there had already gone.
The following morning, however, when it was light, he investigated more thoroughly. Even though nothing seemed to be missing, a few things weren’t right. For one, the grizzly bear skins that covered the barrels of whiskey were pushed off to one side, exposing their tops. For another, there was a horrible smell in there, something disgusting like a dead rat. At first he thought what remained of the smoked meats Pierre had brought from the Blue Bear had finally gone bad. But upon examination, that proved not to be the case.