Taking a seat, the man called Newton regarded his companion critically. “You’re not using your head, partner. We do need Kennedy.”
“Why do we need that simpleton?”
“Because he has the money and the business contacts. We don’t.”
“What’s to stop us from making them our contacts?” Lambert asked.
Newton sighed. “We’ve been all through this already. Kennedy was in business for over ten years. He knows all the right people and has a reputation as an honest businessman. The ones who sell the goods to him wouldn’t give us the time of day.”
“I hate having to rely on him,” Lambert groused.
“And you think I like it?”
Lambert gazed upward. The snow had tapered to a trickle. “I suppose we should continue searching for him,” he said reluctantly.
“The sooner we find Isaac, the sooner we can reach the Utes,” Newton mentioned.
“And the sooner we get our pelts,” Lambert added, grinning. “Then we’ll have more money than either of us could make in a lifetime of trapping lousy beaver. We won’t know what to do with it all.”
The stocky Newton grabbed his rifle and stood. “I know what I’m going to do with my share.”
“Let me guess. You’re going to St. Louis and bed a different whore every night.”
“St. Louis, hell. I’m going to New York City. Whores there have class.”
“A whore is a whore, Newton, and it doesn’t make a difference whether she’s in St. Louis or New York. Pay her price and she’ll spread her legs.”
“Shows how much you know. The whores in New York City wear nicer, fancier clothes with a lot of frills and lace and such. And they smell a hell of a lot better. Why, some of them take a bath every single day.”
Lambert cackled. “Now I know you’re pulling my leg. There’s isn’t a person alive who takes a bath every day. Once a year is more than enough. Take them too often and you wind up sickly.”
“Have it your way,” Newton said testily, adjusting his hat. “But I’ve been to New York and I know what I’m talking about.” He began kicking snow onto the fire and white smoke billowed heavenward.
“I didn’t mean to get you riled.”
“I’m not.”
“I know better. I know that temper of yours.”
“Drop it,” Newton stated, kicking furiously. In a minute he had the flames extinguished and the smoldering embers soaked under a layer of snow.
Lambert walked to his horse and swung up. “Want me to take the north side of the valley and you can take the south?”
“We’ll stick together,” Newton said. “We’re in Ute country now and we can’t take any chances.”
“They won’t harm us.”
“Only a fool would trust a savage,” Newton stated. “If you’re not careful you’ll get your throat slit and your hair taken.”
“Their chief gave his word.”
“One of their chiefs made the deal with us,” Newton corrected him. “The chiefs of the other villages would just as soon skin us alive.”
“I’m not worried,” Lambert declared. “We talked our way out of a scalping once and we can do it again.”
“We were lucky, is all,” Newton said. “Two Owls could have had us rubbed out any time he wanted.” He paused. “I’m still not convinced he won’t anyway once he gets what he wants.”
“Are you saying we should turn around and head for the States after coming all this distance?”
“Of course not. We’d be crazier than loons to give up now.”
“Let’s go, then.”
Newton went to the pack animals and took the reins in his left hand, then mounted his saddle horse. He took the lead, riding between the boulders and pausing once he was in the clear. The snow had practically stopped. His gaze drifted westward to a tranquil lake and the country on the far side. Suddenly he stiffened and asked, “Do you see what I see over yonder?”
Halting, Lambert took one look and smirked. “I’ll be tarred and feathered. Who the hell would have a cabin way out here?”
“Let’s find out.”
~*~
Nate waited until Isaac Kennedy had greedily finished the bowl before broaching the subject of trapping again. He spent the time observing the greenhorn while Winona bustled about the cabin.
“A truly marvelous repast,” Kennedy said at last, smacking his lips and staring at Winona. “My compliments to the lady of the house.”
“My wife is an excellent cook,” Nate commented. “But then, most Indian women are. They have to be.”
“Why is that?”
“Because an Indian man doesn’t want to take for his wife a woman who hasn’t mastered the art of keeping a home. Cooking, sewing, the working of hides, the care of a teepee, all these are the responsibilities of the women.”
“It sounds terribly boring.”
“Someone who doesn’t know any better would likely think so,” Nate said testily, “but Indian women take pride in their work. In some tribes the women belong to special societies just like the warriors. They compete to see who can weave the prettiest patterns or who can cure the most number of hides. It’s quite an honor for a woman to be considered the best at any task.”
“But isn’t it demeaning that the men get to go out and do the hunting and make war while the women do all the petty chores?”
“There’s nothing petty about the work they do. The welfare and comfort of their families depends on them,” Nate disclosed, annoyed at the man’s attitude. “Besides, warriors never look down their noses at the women. They treat women with the respect they deserve.”
Kennedy shrugged. “I guess I would make a terrible Indian.”
“Do tell.”
The portly man glanced at Nate’s face and in the strained silence that ensued squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. “I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said at length. “And I didn’t intend to insult the Indians, either. The good Lord knows I’m in no position to judge or speak badly of anyone.”
“Oh?”
Kennedy abruptly rose and carried the bowl to the table. “Should I put this here?”
“Be my guest,” Nate said, wondering what to make of the man’s behavior. When Kennedy sat down he brought up the subject that most interested him. “You say that you plan to trap in Ute country?”
“Yes, indeed. Newton and Lambert know the way. I came along simply to watch over my investment.”
“I don’t understand. Did you foot the bill for the supplies?”
“The supplies? Oh, yes,” Kennedy said. “I paid for everything.”
“What kind of traps did you purchase? Newhouses?”
“I don’t remember.”
“How many pounds of powder and lead did you bring?”
“I’m not certain.”
“What about flour and coffee?”
“We brought some.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
Nate’s brow furrowed. For somehow who had fit out the trapping expedition, Kennedy knew precious little about the gear and goods purchased. “Well, I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Why?”
“Because venturing into the heart of Ute country to trap beaver is about as dangerous as sticking your head in a grizzly’s mouth to examine its teeth.”
“I’m not worried. Newton and Lambert know what they’re doing.”
“Have they told you about the Utes?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know that the Utes hate all whites? You know that they exterminate every trapper foolish enough to enter their territory? You know that next to the Blackfeet, the Utes are probably the most feared tribe in the northern half of the Rockies?”
Anxiety crept into Kennedy’s expression. “Newton and Lambert never told me all those details.”
“If I was you I’d think twice about carrying out your original plan. Head north a ways. There’s plenty of prime beaver country and you won’
t need to worry so much about the Utes.”
“I appreciate your concern, Nate, but we’ll be all right. My friends know a Ute chief.”
“Do you know this chief’s name?”
“Two Owls.”
A flood of memories washed over Nate. He’d met Two Owls himself several months ago and they had formed a temporary, uneasy alliance against the dreaded Blackfeet. Eventually they’d parted on friendly terms but he couldn’t guarantee the Ute warrior would be so kindly disposed the next time they encountered one another. “How is it your friends know him?”
“They ran into Two Owls when they were trapping out here a few seasons ago.”
‘‘And they’re still alive?”
“They talked him out of killing them.”
It occurred to Nate that Newton and Lambert might be the biggest liars ever to don a pair of britches. There wasn’t a trapper alive who could dissuade hostile warriors from taking their hair. The only reason he’d been able to hook up with Two Owls had been because he’d gotten the drop on the chief and refused to take his life. Out of a sense of gratitude or obligation, Two Owls had then helped Nate fight the Blackfeet.
Winona, who had moved over to the window, announced in Shoshone, “The snow is stopping, husband. I will go feed the horses more grass.”
Twisting, Nate saw a few flakes trickling down and the sky beginning to brighten as the cloud cover moved eastward. “I will go.”
“You should stay with our guest,” Winona said, putting on her buffalo robe.
Nate hesitated. He didn’t like the idea of her going out alone, but he decided against making an issue of it in front of Kennedy. “Okay. But be on your guard.”
“Always,” Winona said, smiling, and stepped to the door.
“Where is she going?” Kennedy inquired.
Nate faced him. “To feed our horses.”
“You have horses? Is there any chance I could borrow one to go find Newton and Lambert?”
“We’ll go together in a while,” Nate proposed, unwilling to lend a precious horse to someone who had lost his own. He heard the latch slide open as Winona prepared to depart, then tensed when she gasped loudly.
Kennedy, who had his eyes on the entrance, blurted, “Oh, my!”
Rising, Nate spun to see a tall man in a brown coat standing just outside the cabin with a rifle trained on his wife.
Chapter Six
Nate instantly made a grab for one of his flintlocks but the newcomer’s sharp warning prevented him from drawing.
“Try it and the squaw dies!”
Furious, Nate froze with his fingers almost touching the pistol. He watched the man motion Winona to move back and he followed her inside.
Isaac Kennedy jumped from his chair. “Lambert, what is the meaning of this outrage? These people saved my life!”
Another, stockier, man appeared in the doorway. This one wore a black coat and had a modified rifle in his right hand. He surveyed the interior briefly, then focused on Nate.
“What do you want?” Nate snapped, almost unable to resist the temptation to bring his flintlocks into play. If only he could distract the one called Lambert! The other man, he deduced, must be Newton.
“We were crouched below your window,” Newton said, pointing at the crack between the sill and the flap. “We couldn’t help but overhear parts of your conversation with our partner, Mr. Kennedy.”
“So?”
“So our partner talks too much.”
Kennedy took several steps toward the two men. “I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”
“Because you shot off your big mouth, jackass,” Lambert stated.
“I told them nothing.”
“Nothing and everything,” Newton said, moving over to the table to inspect the empty bowl put there by Kennedy. “Is that buffalo stew I smell?”
No one said anything.
Newton glanced at Winona. “Take off the robe and fetch me a bowl, woman, and be quick about it.”
Instead of obeying, Winona defiantly stayed where she was and glared at him.
“Do it or my friend here will shoot your man,” Newton said.
Lambert looked at Nate and smirked.
Without hesitation Winona let the robe fall to the floor, got a clean bowl from the cupboard, and walked to the pot.
“I like a woman who knows how to listen,” Newton said. He chuckled and took a seat at the table, then gazed at Kennedy. “I’m disappointed in you, Isaac. I thought you had more brains than you do.”
“But I didn’t tell them a thing!” the portly merchant protested.
“You only think you didn’t,” Newton said. “But we heard some of the questions this trapper was asking you. You made him suspicious.”
“I did? How?”
Newton sighed and rested his elbows on the tabletop. “Isaac, what are we going to do with you? Sometimes you are more trouble than you’re worth.”
“Sometimes?” Lambert echoed, and snorted contemptuously.
Nate’s eyes flicked from one to the other as he impatiently waited for them to let down their guard. They both impressed him as being hard men, sinister sorts capable of slaying Winona and him without any provocation. Lambert, in particular, had the air of a wolverine eager to tear into its prey.
“Now then,” Newton said, aligning his rifle on the table so the barrel pointed directly at Nate, “be so kind as to put those pistols of yours on the floor. And do it slowly or your woman will be seeking a new man.”
Hesitating, Nate debated the wisdom of making a reckless attempt to cut both men down. He was certain he could drill a ball through one of them but the second would then send a ball into him. Winona would be on her own.
Lambert swung his rifle to cover Nate. “You heard my friend. Do it now, trapper.”
Reluctantly, rage making his blood race, Nate slowly drew the right flintlock, then the left, and eased them to the wooden floor.
“Step away from the guns,” Newton instructed.
Again Nate complied, his resentment knowing no bounds. His rifle was on the wall, his knife and tomahawk by the bed. Completely unarmed, he was at the mercy of the intruders.
Lambert came forward and took the pistols to the table, prudently keeping out of the line of fire. “Do we do it now?” he asked Newton.
“What’s your hurry? We’ve just spent weeks trekking across the plains and into these mountains, trying our best to stay warm every foot of the way. We wasted over a day searching for Isaac while trying to survive one of the worst blizzards I’ve seen in ages,” Newton said. “I reckon we owe ourselves a treat. It’s warm in here and there’s hot food. I say we stay a while.”
“And what about him?” Lambert inquired, nodding at Nate.
Newton drummed his fingers on the table. “What’s your name, trapper?”
“King. Nate King.”
“King,” Newton repeated, pondering. “Why do I have the feeling I should know that name?”
At that moment Winona approached the table bearing a bowl of stew and a wooden spoon. She kept her features composed, betraying no trace of fear.
Newton stared at her protruding belly. “Your missus will be having her litter of half-breeds in four or five months if I’m not mistaken, King,” he said sarcastically.
The insult cut Nate to the quick. He clenched his fists and took a step but Lambert promptly covered him.
“Hmmmmm,” Newton said, deep in contemplation. He took the bowl and eagerly began eating.
“Hey, what about me?” Lambert asked.
“After I’m done I’ll watch them and you can fill your stomach,” Newton proposed.
Winona returned to the fireplace and stood beside the pot with the ladle in her hand, her gaze resting on her husband.
For over a minute not a word was uttered. The only sounds were the crackling of the flames and the slurping noises Newton made as he ate.
Isaac Kennedy wore a bewildered countenance. He stared at his partners, looking fr
om one to the other repeatedly. Several times he opened his mouth as if to speak but changed his mind.
The man in the brown coat finally broke the silence. He glanced at the south wall, where a dozen traps hung, and wagged his Kentucky rifle at Nate. “Nice traps you’ve got there, King. Newhouses, aren’t they?”
Nate simply glowered.
“Newhouses are the best around,” Lambert went on mockingly. “If we were fixing to trap our pelts we’d take yours along.”
Kennedy found his voice. “I don’t want these kind people harmed,” he said softly.
Lambert laughed.
“Did you hear me?” Kennedy addressed Newton. “We should up and leave now. This has gone far enough.”
Belching, Newton pushed the bowl aside and beamed at the merchant. “Isaac, leave this to us. We’ve lived in these mountains off and on for the better part of ten years. We know what we’re doing.”
“If you hurt them our deal is off,” Kennedy blustered nervously.
Newton leaned back and laced his hands behind his neck. “We haven’t traveled this far to call it off now, Isaac. Not when we’re days away from becoming rich men.”
“I’ll take the pack animals and go back to Missouri.”
“I’m sorry, Isaac, but we can’t allow you to do that.”
“How will you stop me?”
Lambert chortled.
“Need you really ask?” Newton responded.
Total horror etched itself in Kennedy’s face. He swallowed hard and exclaimed, “Dear Lord in heaven.”
“I want you to understand,” Newton said. “A chance like this comes along once in a lifetime for men like Lambert and me. We can’t let it pass us by. If we called this off, you could always go back to owning a store and making a comfortable living. But Lambert and me would have to go back to trapping or whatever other backbreaking jobs we could find.” He paused and frowned. “You can see my point, can’t you?”
“I can see we’re in the wrong here.”
“City types!” Lambert declared bitterly. “It just proves that you can educate a fool but it doesn’t mean he can think.”
“I know I don’t want to be party to a killing,” Kennedy stated.
Newton stood and went over to the portly man. He placed his right hand on Kennedy’s shoulder. “If there was any other way, I’d do it. But what if someone starts to ask questions later? What if the Army gets involved? If word should reach Fort Leavenworth there might be an investigation. Then suppose an officer was to show up here and this trapper was to tell him about these three men who came by in the dead of winter heading for the middle of Ute country. How long do you figure it would be before the Army put two and two together and was on our trail?”
Tomahawk Revenge/ Black Powder Justice (A Wilderness Double Western Book 3) Page 18