“Is that true?” Petrie asked.
Chases Rabbits tried to recall if he knew what a spyglass was. Then he remembered the fabulous brass tube Nate King owned that could bring far objects up close. “I want spyglass many winters.” Which was true; he’d desired one ever since Nate let him look through his.
Petrie sniffed and wheeled, making for the entrance.
“That was close,” Toad said. “If they catch me with this, my goose is cooked.”
Chases Rabbits’s mother had plucked and roasted geese a few times. Grouse, too. And quail. Even an owl once. “Better cooked than raw.”
Toad didn’t seem to hear him. He glanced down at the folded paper. “Perhaps I should rethink this. Breathing is better than not breathing.”
“Breathing good,” Chases Rabbits agreed.
“I have a better idea. Bring Nate King here. Will you do that for me? I’ll give you a pistol for your very own if you do.”
Chases Rabbits tingled with excitement. Few Crow warriors owned rifles; fewer still owned a rifle and a pistol. “Me happy bring him.”
“If he wants to know what it’s about,” Toad said, “tell him there are foxes in the chicken coop.”
“You have chickens?” Chases Rabbits would like a few. Their eggs were delicious.
Toad gripped the front of his shirt. “Swear to me by all you hold holy that you’ll bring him. Bring him just as fast as you can.”
“I do for you,” Chases Rabbits promised, wondering why it was so urgent.
“Good.” Toad shoved the paper into his pocket. “Because if you don’t, you’ll be sorry.” He lumbered away.
His mind in a jumble, Chases Rabbits went out. He stared at the new lodge the women were in and wished he could talk to Raven On The Ground before he left. But Toad had been clear he must hurry. So he climbed on his horse and rode west, hoping Raven On The Ground would forgive him for leaving without saying good-bye and that she would be all right until he got back.
Louisa King loved her husband dearly. She loved him passionately. She loved him with all that she was—yet there were times when he did things that drove her to distraction. Little things, like always expecting her to clean up after they ate. His pa, Nate, helped Winona, but Zach wouldn’t wash a pan or a plate unless she practically begged him. And there were the big things, like the time she had to endure the terror of Zach being put on trial for murder.
She never knew what to expect next. He was forever doing things that surprised her, such as taking her to Bent’s Fort for a new shawl on the spur of the moment after she casually mentioned she would like one, or going off after a cow that time she’d mentioned how much she missed drinking milk.
But she never, ever expected him to do what he had done now.
“Let me get this straight. I’m in the family way, and you bring home a wolf?”
“I think it’s my old pet Blaze,” Zach said, rubbing the animal’s neck.
“I’m going to have a baby and you bring home a wolf?”
“Why are you making such a fuss? I thought you liked animals.”
“I do,” Lou said. “I like cats some. I like dogs more. I think puppies are adorable.”
“Look at him. He’s adorable, too.”
Lou looked. She had never seen such a scruffy, emaciated animal in her life. It was a wonder it was still breathing. Its bones about popped from its body, its face was sunken, and its legs were sticks. “I don’t reckon it has long to live.”
“What a terrible thing to say.” Zach scratched under the wolf’s chin, and it licked him.
“He’s skin and bones,” Lou said. “And he was limping when you rode in.”
“Yet he kept up with me.” Zach patted the wolf on its front shoulders. “I honest to God think it’s Blaze.”
Lou gazed at the dun and then at the ground around them and then back at the wolf. “And you were so excited at finding him that you forgot to bring home the fresh meat I asked for.”
“What?”
“Unless it’s invisible, I don’t see a deer anywhere.”
“Oh.”
“Sometimes, Zachary King, you are a vexation.”
“I know I’m in trouble when you get all formal.” Zach turned and swung onto the dun. “Blaze and me will go hunt. We shouldn’t be gone long.”
“You don’t know for sure it’s him.”
“What other wolf would be half as friendly?” Zach reined around. “Come on, Blaze. We’ll leave her to her mood.” He jabbed his heels and rode into the woods. The wolf stayed at his side, just as Blaze used to do. Zach grinned. He had loved that wolf. They had been inseparable. If this truly was Blaze, it would be like old times.
Zach thought of another test, a trick he had taught Blaze when Blaze was small. “I’m after a deer,” he said, and then repeated with emphasis, “Deer. Deer. Deer.”
The wolf looked up at him with a quizzical expression.
“Don’t you remember?” Zach asked. “Deer meat.”
They had gone barely a dozen yards when the wolf abruptly stopped. Zach drew rein. The wolf raised its muzzle and sniffed, turning its head from side to side as it tested the wind. Then it turned to the northeast. Zach followed. Thick brush appeared, and the wolf peered into it with an intensity that made Zach smile.
“You do remember.”
Zach dismounted. He wedged the Hawken to his shoulder and thumbed back the hammer. At the click the wolf glanced up sharply and took a step back. Zach moved toward the brush. Crouching, he scoured the shadows and nooks. He began to think the wolf was mistaken. Then he registered movement; a doe was rising from her bed, looking straight at them. He didn’t have a clear shot. Sidling to his right, he saw her plainly.
A stroke of the trigger, and the heavy ball cored her skull, splattering brains and hair.
Zach laughed happily. “Lou will get her fresh meat now.” He started to go in after it, then stopped. He mustn’t violate the cardinal rule of survival in the wilds: always reload after he shot. His pa had ingrained that into him from the day he was old enough to hold a gun. Methodically, he opened his powder horn and poured the proper amount down the barrel. From his ammo pouch he took a bullet and wrapped it in a patch, then slid the ramrod from its housing and tamped the ball and patch down the barrel.
The wolf sat and watched.
“You remember me doing this all the time, don’t you?” Zach had never been much of a talker; Lou was always saying how he never gabbed enough. But he’d always talked to Blaze. “Why did you shy like that when I was getting set to shoot?” As he recalled, Blaze had gotten used to guns. Even the blast wouldn’t spook him.
Zach took a stride to go in after the doe and the wolf took a limping step to follow. It was favoring its left front leg. On a sudden hunch, Zach stopped and hunkered. “Let me have a gander at that, boy.” The wolf didn’t snarl or bare its teeth as he gently moved his hand up and down. Where the leg widened into the body he found thick scar tissue. He moved the hair, and frowned. The scar was perfectly round.
“Now I savvy. You were shot.”
There was more scar tissue under the wolf’s belly. An inch or so higher, and the wolf’s guts would have come spilling out.
“You were lucky.”
The wolf whined and licked him.
Zach gazed into its eyes and felt his throat tighten and his eyes begin to mist. “It is you, Blaze.” He hugged the wolf close, and it didn’t resist. “Why don’t you stick around awhile this time?”
They were so near the cabin that Zach dragged the doe out, threw it over the dun, and walked back leading the horse by the reins with Blaze at his side. He kept glancing at him. He couldn’t believe Blaze was really there.
“You’ve missed a lot, old fella. My pa and ma have a cabin across the lake, and my nuisance of a sister is a lot older and has a beau, if you can believe it.”
The wolf padded along quietly. “Shakespeare McNair is still around. He’s as old as you, only in people years, but he’s held
up better. I bet he’ll remember you. The two of you always got along pretty well.”
The wolf’s shoulder brushed Zach’s leg.
“Do you remember when I found you? In the snow and the cold? You were all alone in the world. We were friends for a good long while, until you ran off to find a mate.” Zach stopped and looked down and the wolf stopped and looked up. “I never did understand why you had to go. Pa explained, but I was young.” He smiled. “I understand now, though. I have a mate of my own.”
Lou was waiting by the corner of the cabin, her arms folded across her bosom. “You didn’t have to go far,” she said as they emerged from the greenery. “I heard the shot.”
Zach motioned at the doe. “All the fresh meat your little heart can desire.”
“That animal is still with you, I see.”
“He’s my friend and you should make friends with him, too. He might be here awhile.”
“Men,” Lou said.
Chapter Thirteen
Raven On The Ground and the other three Crow maidens followed the white man known as Geist into the wooden lodge. She smiled to be polite and to hide how nervous she was. She had never been in the company of white men before, save for the few times whites had visited her village and once when Chases Rabbits brought Grizzly Killer to meet her. She liked Grizzly Killer. He was an adopted Shoshone and much like an Indian. He wasn’t strange, like other whites.
The man called Geist was smiling and being friendly, but he was strange, too. He talked too fast and he had an odd smell, and his smile didn’t touch his eyes.
Raven On The Ground definitely didn’t like the white called Dryfus. The very first time he looked at her, he ran his gaze down her body in a manner any woman would recognize. It was rude of him, and she did not like rude people. Unfortunately, Dryfus was the only white who knew sign, so she had to put up with him for the time being.
Geist had just finished showing them four small spaces enclosed in wooden walls. In each, blankets had been spread on upraised legs. Their purpose eluded her until Dryfus pointed at one of the areas and raised his hands.
Where you sit, he signed.
Raven On The Ground was appalled.
Dryfus pointed at each of the other enclosed spaces in turn, and at each of the other women, signing the same thing.
“Can this be?” Spotted Fawn said. “This is where they want us to live?”
“So it seems,” Raven On The Ground said. To make sure, she signed, Question. We sit long time?
Yes, Dryfus signed.
Lavender frowned. “I do not like this. Why have they covered the ground with wood? Where do we build a fire? And there is no hole above us for the smoke to go out.”
Flute Girl made it unanimous. “These whites do not know how to treat guests.”
Geist barked words at Dryfus and the latter signed, Question. Why you no happy?
Raven On The Ground signed that they would rather live in the kind of lodge they were accustomed to.
Through Dryfus, Geist responded that they would like it here after a while, that sleeping on the blankets on the raised legs was better than sleeping on the ground, and that they didn’t need a fire since the walls would keep them warm.
“The man is touched in the head,” Lavender said. “How will we cook if we cannot make a fire?”
Raven On The Ground put the question to the whites and was amazed when Dryfus signed that the whites would do the cooking for them.
“But I thought they brought us here to cook for them?” Spotted Fawn said.
So did Raven On The Ground. She put the question to Dryfus. He and Geist talked, and Dryfus signed that they could build a fire outside the wooden lodge.
“Only whites would have such empty heads,” Flute Girl said.
“What work do they expect of us?” Lavender wanted to know.
Raven On The Ground signed the query. The answer puzzled her. Dryfus signed that Geist would explain soon, and they both grinned as if it were some sort of joke. Until then, Dryfus signed, they were free to walk about as they pleased. He warned them not to stray too far from the lodge, for their own safety.
“Do they think we cannot take care of ourselves?” Flute Girl asked.
Geist and Dryfus left.
The four women looked at one another, at the wood walls, and at the wood over their heads.
“I am sorry I came,” Lavender said.
“We should not judge them too quickly,” Raven On The Ground advised. “The whites made this place for us thinking we would like it.”
“They should know better,” Spotted Fawn said. “It is like being in a cave made of wood.”
“We know how strange they are, so we should not be surprised,” Raven On The Ground said. “They have befriended our people and put their trust in us, so we should put our trust in them.”
“I cannot sleep in here,” Flute Girl declared. “When it grows dark I will go outside and sleep on the ground.”
“Me, too,” Lavender said.
Raven On The Ground was tempted to do the same. To take their mind off the shock of their dwelling, she proposed that they go to the trading post and see all the wonderful goods the whites had brought.
“That is one thing the whites know how to do,” Flute Girl said. “They know how to make the money they love so much.”
“Yes,” Raven On The Ground agreed. “They do.”
Chases Rabbits was having a bad moon. First it was the bear that tried to eat him. Now he had a worse problem. He was two days out from the mercantile and had at least three more of hard riding before he would reach King Valley. Suddenly he came to a crest dotted with firs and spotted a line of riders below. They were too far off for him to tell more than that they were warriors. He hoped they were Crows or maybe Shoshones, who were on good terms with his people. He hoped they weren’t Blackfeet or Piegans or Bloods, who would count coup on any Crow they came across.
As it turned out, they were something else. He was in the cover of the firs, watching the nine riders ascend, when the style of their hair and their faces sent a tingle of worry down his spine. They were Utes. They were far from their own land, and they were painted for war.
The Crows and the Utes weren’t at war with each other at the moment, but they weren’t friends, either. Chases Rabbits was glad they hadn’t spotted him. They would reach the crest a good arrow’s flight from where he was and go on their way none the wiser.
Then his pinto whinnied.
Immediately, several of the foremost Utes looked up, and one of them pointed at the shadows that concealed Chases Rabbits, yipping in the Ute tongue.
Chases Rabbits wheeled his pinto and fled. Should they catch him, there was no doubt what they would do: the same as Crows would do to captured Utes. He would be mutilated to test his manhood and then slain.
Whoops rose in a chorus and hooves pounded hard. The war party was after him.
Chases Rabbits fought down panic. His pinto was fast, but their horses could be faster. His capture seemed inevitable.
He flew down the other side, reining right and left to avoid trees and boulders and vaulting logs. He tried to calm himself so he could think clearly, but his heart hammered in his chest and his blood pulsed madly in his veins.
Chases Rabbits glanced over his shoulder. The Utes hadn’t appeared yet. He swept around a spruce and into a stand of alder. To his left down a short slope grew a dense thicket of chokecherries. The instant he spotted it, he reined down and in, his pinto crashing through the tangle with ease. When he had gone as far as he could throw a rock, he came upon a clear spot, drew rein, and jumped down. He could hear the Utes, but he couldn’t see them yet.
Quickly, Chases Rabbits grabbed the rope bridle and pulled while putting his foot against the pinto’s front leg and pushing. Quite a few moons ago, he had witnessed Nate King use the trick with his horse, and he had been trying to teach the pinto. Sometimes it cooperated. Sometimes it didn’t.
Right now it didn’t.
Above them, the forest crashed with the sound of the onrush of warriors out for his blood.
“Down!” Chases Rabbits pleaded, and practically hung from the bridle by both hands. The pinto tucked at the knees. He pulled with all his might, and to his elation, the pinto lowered onto its side. He flung himself on top of it, his shoulders and head on its neck, and wrapped his fingers around its muzzle to keep it from whinnying.
Yipping and screeching, the Utes swept out of the trees and hurtled down the mountain. They passed so close that Chases Rabbits could have brought one down with his bow. Any moment he expected to be spotted. Then they were past and the forest swallowed them, and he released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Not until the hoofbeats faded to welcome silence did Chases Rabbits rise and pull the pinto erect. Swiftly mounting, he resumed his ride, only with more care. It wasn’t unheard of for war parties to split up when in enemy territory to be less conspicuous.
Where there were nine Utes, there might be more.
Chapter Fourteen
Raven On The Ground was confused and more than a little worried.
Chases Rabbits had told her that the whites wanted women to cook and sew and mend for them. In return, they would be allowed to have things from the trading post. She and her companions had been at the post living in the awful wood lodge for several days now and they’d hardly had to do anything. She kept asking Dryfus what they were to do. He would go to Geist, then come back and say that they should be patient and enjoy themselves, and all would be made clear soon. But there was nothing to do but talk and walk. They were tired of talking and had walked all over Mud Hollow without seeing anything worth their interest.
That evening the women held a council.
“I am for going back to our village,” Flute Girl announced.
“I as well,” Lavender said. “We waste our time here. The whites sent for us but they don’t need us.”
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