As Zach rode, he pondered. He supposed he was being unduly suspicious about the trading post or mercantile or whatever Toad wanted to call it. But he couldn’t shake a feeling deep in his gut that those men were more than they seemed. Call it a hunch. Call it instinct. Something was bothering him.
The sharp call of a grosbeak brought Zach out of his brooding thoughts. A little farther on, a gray squirrel chittered at him from a high branch.
Zach stayed alert for deer. There was plenty of sign. A jumble of prints showed where the deer went regularly to the lake to drink. He also came across old beds, some with the strong reek of urine.
A magpie flew overhead, distinctive with its white underparts and uncommonly long tail. Where there was one, there were usually more, although they made solitary domes high in the trees when they nested.
Zach breathed deep, savoring the rarefied air, and grinned. He did so love the mountains, or any wilds, for that matter. He had been born and bred in the wilderness, as the whites would say, and he was supremely glad. He had been to towns and cities and couldn’t stand them. Not that he had anything against people. He didn’t like how city life hemmed a man in, how stone and brick replaced the trees and grass, how a man could hardly go anywhere without being under the watchful scrutiny of others. There was barely any privacy, and what little there was came only when a person locked himself in a room.
That wasn’t for Zach. Give him the wide-open spaces where a man could ride for hours or days or even weeks, if he was of a mind, and not see another living soul.
Ahead the forest thinned. Zach rode out of the shadows into the bright sunlight of a meadow—and drew rein.
Not fifty feet away was a wolf.
Chapter Eleven
In his room at the back of the mercantile, Toad paced. He kept glancing at a sheet of paper on the table. Finally he sat and hastily penned a note. He folded the paper in half, then folded it again and slipped it into his pocket. “It is the best I can do,” he said out loud.
Toad stood and went to the window. It faced the foothills to the west. To his left was the building that looked like a stable but wasn’t. Gratt was just going in. “May you all rot in hell,” Toad said.
Toad stepped to the door. He smoothed his shirt and patted the pocket. His palms were sweaty and he wiped them on his pants. He jerked the door open and was startled to see Petrie leaning against the wall. “You!”
Petrie unfolded. “Had a nice nap, did you?” he asked sarcastically.
“Yes,” Toad lied. He made it a habit to rest for half an hour after his midday meal. It helped with his digestion. “What are you doing here? Keeping an eye on me?”
“Neil wants to see you.”
“Shouldn’t you call him Geist?” Toad said.
“I can call him any damn thing I want, you sack of pus.”
Toad had been wondering about something and now he came right out and asked. “Why do you hate me so much? I’ve never done anything to you. I resent that Geist deceived me, but I’ve gone along with what you’ve demanded of me, haven’t I?”
“You don’t have a choice. You go along or you die.”
“There’s that,” Toad admitted. “So why do you hate me?”
“Three reasons,” Petrie said. “First, you’re about the ugliest son of a bitch I’ve ever set eyes on. Looking at you, I want to puke.”
Toad winced. “I was born this way. You can’t blame a man for that.”
“Care to bet?” Petrie rejoined, and then said, “Second, your last name is Levi.”
“So you’re one of those.”
“Third,” Petrie said, ignoring the interruption, “and this is the most important, I hate most everybody. People are worthless and stupid and good for nothing and better off dead. Except Neil.”
“You go around killing people just for that?”
“I do it all the time. Back in the States, I’m wanted for more murders than you have fingers. Neil too.”
“Good God.”
“There ain’t one, you simpleton. There’s just us.”
“Wait. Geist is like you? He kills people just because he despises them?”
“No. He always has a reason.” Petrie’s mouth curled in a vicious smirk. “Sometimes it’s because they’re no longer of any use to us.” He gestured. “Now move your fat ass. He’s waiting.”
Several Crows were examining the knife display. A Nez Perce was fingering blankets.
Geist was behind the counter, a glass of whiskey at his elbow. “About damn time.”
“You said I could rest,” Toad reminded him.
“I aim to please,” Geist said, his tone suggesting the opposite.
“What is it you wanted to see me about?”
“I’ve decided to change our business arrangement.”
“Is that what you call it when you hold a gun to a man’s head and demand he take you in as a partner, or else?”
Geist emptied his glass and turned to the shelf for a bottle. “I haven’t pulled the trigger yet, have I?”
Petrie chuckled.
Geist refilled his glass and leaned on the counter. He cast an eye at the Crows, who were several shelves away, then fixed his gazed on Toad. “I didn’t like your little flare-up in the whorehouse. It hit me that you still don’t understand. So I’ll make it as plain as plain can be.” He paused to take another sip. “When I saw your advertisement in the St. Louis newspaper, I knew you were just the cover I needed. The law was hot on my trail and I had to get out of the States. So me and my men signed on to help you get your goods across the prairie and start up this mercantile. Halfway here I took over and now you work for me. I can get rid of you any time I want.”
“Why don’t you, then?” Toad asked sullenly. “Why do you toy with me like a cat with a mouse?”
“You don’t know anything, do you?”
“I know I hate being forced to do your bidding. I hate living in constant fear.”
Petrie said to Geist, “At least he has the brains to be scared.”
“So long as you serve a purpose, you get to go on living,” Geist said.
“What purpose is that, might I ask?”
“Weren’t you listening? You’re my cover, Levi. I wouldn’t put it past the law to send someone this far. So I pretend to work for you, while the whole time I really run things. But if you become too much of a nuisance, you’ll disappear.”
“By disappear, you mean die.”
“Everything has to be spelled out for you, doesn’t it? Petrie here will take you off into the hills and dispose of you. Anyone asks, we’ll say you got attacked by a bear or bit by a rattler.”
“One less Levi in the world,” Petrie said.
“Now are we clear?” Geist said. “No more talking back. Do exactly as I say when I say it.” He reached across the counter and gripped the front of Toad’s shirt. “Let me hear the words.”
Toad flushed, and swallowed. “From here on out you won’t hear a peep of protest out of me.”
“Good.” Geist let go and smoothed the man’s shirt. “Now go make yourself useful and sell something to those Crows.”
“Whatever you say.”
“I like the sound of that,” Geist said, and chuckled.
Toad went down the third aisle to the Crows.
They turned and smiled and one said something in their tongue.
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak your language,” Toad said. “Do any of you speak English?” When all they did was stare blankly, he lowered his voice and said, “Chases Rabbits? Do you understand that at least? I have something for you to give him.” He started to reach into his pocket but stopped when it was obvious they didn’t comprehend. He let out a sigh. His luck of late was all bad.
There had to be a way to turn the tables on Geist, Toad told himself. There had to be someone who could do what he wasn’t capable of.
Zach King snapped his Hawken to his shoulder. Wolves this close to the cabin were a danger to the livestock. He had seen wolf tr
acks around his cabin off and on for some months now, but could never catch the wolf. At first he’d been concerned that it was after the chickens, but it never tried to get into the coop or attack the rooster and hens when they were roaming about during the day.
Zach took aim, then noticed that the wolf was just standing there, staring. It showed no fear or alarm. He noticed, too, that it was uncommonly old; it was mostly hide and bones, its muzzle almost entirely light gray while the rest was darker. It had a white mark that reminded him of the wolf cub he’d raised when he was young. Curious, he said out loud, “Blaze?”
The wolf pricked its ears and whined. It took a few steps in his direction, limping.
Zach lowered the Hawken a little. “It can’t be,” he said. Years ago his wolf had gone off to answer the call of the wild. He’d always reckoned that it was long since dead. “Blaze?”
The wolf whined again and came haltingly forward, its limp more pronounced.
The dun snorted and pranced. Zach spoke to it and patted its neck, then climbed down, keeping a firm grip on the reins. He held the Hawken ready to shoot as the wolf came to within a few yards and stared at him as he was staring at it. “Blaze? Is that you, boy?” He couldn’t be sure. “After all these years?”
Zach held out a hand as he used to do, his fingers extended.
The wolf slowly came up and sniffed. It whined and licked his fingertips.
Zach carefully touched the white mark. He was coiled to defend himself should the wolf attack, but all it did was lick him some more. “Well, what do you know?” He decided to put it to another test. Sinking onto his knee, he said, “Do you remember what you used to do?”
The wolf’s jaw was so close that with a lightning snap it could rend Zach’s throat. Instead, it dipped its muzzle and pressed its forehead to his chest as Blaze used to do when he wanted to be petted. Zach rubbed its head and its neck and ran a hand over its side; he could feel every rib.
“Blaze, is it really you?”
The wolf raised its head and licked him.
Zach scratched and petted its chin. “Has to be you. No wild wolf would let me do this.” It licked him again and he beamed. “I can’t wait for my wife to see you.”
Chapter Twelve
The four young women wore their best dresses, their lustrous hair freshly washed and braided.
As they wound down the last stretch of trail to the mercantile, Chases Rabbits glanced back, his gaze lingering on Raven On The Ground. To his mind, she was the most beautiful, but he had to admit they were all lovely. He hoped the whites would be pleased.
Chases Rabbits was resplendent himself. He wore his new white buckskins and the new moccasins his mother had made. His rifle gleamed in the sun. He imagined that he was as handsome as a man could be.
The trail widened and Raven On The Ground brought her mare up next to him. Her eyes were lively and excited, her full lips spread in a smile. “I am proud of you.”
Chases Rabbits’s cheeks burned. “What have I done?” he asked.
“You know very well. You are doing more to help our people than any warrior since Long Hair. You are to the Apsaalooke as Grizzly Killer is to the Shoshones.”
Chases Rabbits thought it should be as Grizzly Killer’s wife, Winona, was to her people, but he let it pass and gloried in the compliment. “I do what I can.”
“You will be one of the great ones. Everyone says so.”
It had long been Chases Rabbits’s secret dream to be just that, but he didn’t reply.
“The woman who takes you for her husband will be envied above all others.”
Among the Crows, it was the custom for a man who married to move into the lodge of his wife’s mother. Chases Rabbits was not overly fond of Raven On The Ground’s mother; she complained too much, about everything. But he would not have to talk to her. Another Crow custom was that once a man married into a family, he never spoke to his mother-in-law again, and she was never to speak to him.
“I would not say no were you to ask me,” Raven On The Ground said.
Chases Rabbits felt a flutter in his chest. There it was, out in the open. “You could not be a wife and be away working for the whites.”
“No,” Raven On The Ground conceded. “My place would be in my lodge with my husband. But I will not work for the whites long. Only enough time for a new blanket and a few other things I want.”
“We will talk of marriage more then,” Chases Rabbits said, hardly able to believe his wonderful fortune.
“I see a happy life for us. You will be high in the council and we will have many horses and dogs.”
Chases Rabbits almost bit his tongue to keep from responding. The Crows had more dogs than any other tribe. It wasn’t unusual for a warrior to have several. He didn’t own a single one. He would never say so, but he didn’t like them. He didn’t like how they smelled, didn’t like how they panted and barked and sniffed and scratched themselves. And he really didn’t like it when a dog licked him. Dog slobber made his stomach churn. Suddenly he was aware that the love of his life was still talking to him.
“…saw great promise in you that the others did not. You are a friend of Grizzly Killer, and he is thought highly of by all the tribes.”
“Not all.” Chases Rabbits could think of a few who would like nothing better than to count coup on Nate.
Ahead, the mercantile and the outbuildings rose out of the basin like squat fingers thrust at the sky.
Chases Rabbits sat straighter. He was conscious of the gazes of Crows already there, and of men and women from other tribes who had likewise come to trade. All were from friendly tribes, so there was no danger. He rode to the hitch rail, but it was full, so he reined to the side and slid down. No sooner had his feet touched the ground than Geist was there, pumping his hand. Behind him were Petrie and the man with the gray hair and floppy hat.
“Chases Rabbits! You came just like you said you would. And you’ve brought four beauties with you.”
Chases Rabbits introduced the women. He didn’t mention that Raven On The Ground was his sweetheart. These were whites, after all, and while he liked them, his personal life was none of their affair.
“Ladies, I am right pleased to meet you,” Geist said. “Tell them for me, will you?”
Chases Rabbits complied.
“Say that we will make their stay here well worth their while. Tomorrow I will explain exactly what it is they’re to do, and until then they’re free to roam around and look at all the merchandise.”
“You need me stay to speak your words?” Chases Rabbits asked.
“That’s not necessary,” Geist said. He indicated the gray-haired man with the floppy hat. “Dryfus here knows sign language.”
This was news to Chases Rabbits. He had the impression they did not know much about Indian ways. “Where him learn?”
“He was a trapper once,” Geist explained. “I take it your squaws can use sign?”
“Raven On The Ground good at finger talk,” Chases Rabbits proudly revealed. They often signed affection to each other.
“Good. Then we’ll communicate through her. You can go back to your village and leave the rest to us.”
Chases Rabbits was surprised that they wanted him to go so soon. “I stay. Make sure all go well.”
“There’s no need,” Geist said, and clapped him on the back. “I’ve imposed on your goodwill enough as it is.” He crooked a finger at Petrie. “My pard here will take you inside and let you pick whatever you would like for bringing the women. Within reason, of course.”
“Of course,” Chases Rabbits echoed as he had heard whites do, although he was not quite sure what he was agreeing too. Reluctantly, he followed Petrie into the mercantile while Geist and Dryfus escorted the women toward the new structure.
“What is it you’d like?” Petrie asked. “A knife? Ammunition? What?”
“I have new knife,” Chases Rabbits said, and patted it. “I not sure.”
“Then look around. The
re’s no rush. I’ll be having a drink. Give a holler if you need me.”
“I give.” Chases Rabbits moved down an aisle, absently fingering clothes and blankets and tools. He was thinking of Raven On The Ground. He would rather be with her.
Someone nudged him, and Chases Rabbits turned. “Toad,” he said, and the stout man put a finger to his lips.
“Not so loud or they’ll hear you and wonder what I’m up to.”
“Sorry?”
Toad glanced around as if he was afraid. In a whisper he said, “If I give you something, will you get it to Nate King?”
“Give me what?” Chases Rabbits asked.
Toad reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded sheet. “This.”
“It called paper.” Chases Rabbits had seen paper before, at the King cabin.
“It’s a message for him and him alone. No one else is to read it. Can you do that?”
“I can do, yes.”
Toad gripped Chases Rabbits’s wrist so hard it hurt. “You don’t realize how important this is. Important for your people and important for you.”
“I can do,” Chases Rabbits repeated, disturbed at how upset the man was.
“Take it,” Toad said, and started to put the paper in Chases Rabbits’ hand.
“What’s going on here?”
Toad gave a start.
Chases Rabbits saw him quickly lower the paper behind his leg, adopt a broad smile, and turn. He did the same, bewildered as to what was going on.
“I asked you a question,” Petrie said to Toad. “What are you two up to?”
“Nothing much,” Toad responded.
Petrie came down the aisle and looked from one of them to the other. “Suppose you tell me, Crow.”
“My name Chases Rabbits.”
“I know what the hell it is. What I don’t know is what he was whispering to you about.”
Toad said, “He asked if I had any spyglasses to sell and I told him I didn’t.”
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