“Ellie, I don’t want to go,” Skeeter whispered as he clung to her arm.
Winking at her, Del said, “I did say distressed, didn’t I?”
She didn’t know what to say, not understanding his sentence. Ellen looked back to see the rest of her family walking away. No matter what his status in society, Del had brought them fresh meat. Every breeze carrying the aroma to her nose kept her rooted there.
If Pa were mad when they returned to the wagon later, she would take the punishment alone, and under the circumstances, it would be worth it. Skeeter’s cheeks looked gaunt and under his eyes dark. The boy needed a decent meal with real meat, fresh meat, and with it roasting so nearby it made her own stomach lurch, she couldn’t deny him. She’d pay the price for it if she had to.”
Sam tapped his fork against his tin plate. “I’m thinking it’s the insincerity of your tone, my friend. What counts is that the remaining Winlows are in for a treat.”
Ellen knew her father hated when she excused his rude displays. However, he never had to live with the social consequences afterward. “My father has a bit of a temper.” No one reacted, so she tried to smooth any ruffled feathers by adding, “I’m sure he’s already regretting his actions, and I’d like to apologize on his behalf.”
Del looked up from preparing the food and smiled. “Apology accepted, miss. Monsieur is entitled to his opinion. This is a free country, after all.” He glanced behind her. “Bonjour, ladies. Did you bring your appetites this evening?”
She turned to see her friends Marie and Jenny. Sam stood to greet them, as did all his men around the campfire.
“We did, Mr. Du Boise.” Marie gave him her hand.
Jenny held back, turning his greeting from a kiss to a more formal handshake. “Mr. Du Boise. I have to admit, the smell led us here.”
The group settled in around the fire. Lucky sat next to Jenny, giving Del her plate. Del filled hers and then motioned for Skeeter’s plate. The boy looked to her for permission. Ellen wasn’t sure. She searched for Pa first then listened for his yelling. Lucy had been keeping him calm lately. Maybe she’d convinced him to let Ellen and Skeeter stay for dinner. That must be why he hadn’t dragged them back to their camp.
She nodded at her little brother, giving him permission to stay. Del gave a couple spoonfuls of dinner to the youngster before gesturing for Ellen’s plate. She let him serve her too and glanced at her brother. The boy’s stomach ruled him, too, it seemed. He took huge bites until he saw her stern expression. Smiling, he shrugged and the next forkful was lighter. Ellen grinned back as she sat and nodded her approval. He ate, all the while staring at Del.
Del sat next to Ellen and Sam when he was done distributing the food. She envied his easy grace. Glancing up, she saw him wink at her and frowned at his familiarity until she noticed his amused expression. She returned his smile, not wanting even a half white Indian to think he had better manners than she did.
The entire group remained silent for most of the meal. Ellen ignored Charles and Hester, disgusted at how the two had behaved earlier in the week when they’d thought they were alone. Their business wasn’t hers, she reminded herself, quelling the need to end the charade. She pushed the Warrens from her mind. She kept busy with chewing instead of talking and covertly examined the man sitting next to her. Tonight’s journal entry might be her best so far. She’d never been so close to a native for so much time and wanted to examine him. Whenever she glanced at him, she noticed he looked back at her if only for a second or so. She’d have to use a little more stealth if she wanted to glean clues about his life and about him living as a person in two worlds.
What was maddening to her was how he spoke French with Marie when they did speak. Who knew what they were saying? Sam might, since he spoke it too. Ellen decided she needed a plan to question Sam about his friend without him being suspicious of her curiosity.
Soon finished with her meal, Ellen patted her little brother on the back. She felt his backbone and was compelled to put a little meat on him. She wanted to encourage him to eat more and asked, “Did you get enough, Skeeter?”
“Yeah, and it was good.” He whispered, “Do you think we should bring some back for everyone else?”
Having heard the question, Del interjected, “Yes, but of course you should. It will waste if you don’t.”
Sam added, “It’s a moral imperative. I’ll find a bowl.”
“Miss Winslow could take the cook pot, yes?” The native stood, taking the container by its handle, and set the dish in front of them. “Since this is my friend’s, please keep it as long as you like.”
Glaring at him, Sam retorted, “Which, I hope isn’t too long a time. Otherwise, I’ll be dining with the Winslows.”
She wanted to reassure him. “You’re always welcome to join us, but I’ll make sure you’re able to cook in this first thing tomorrow morning.”
Sam smiled his thanks, and not for the first time did Ellen need to ignore a pang of loneliness. She felt he was the big brother she never had, and Marie her very best friend. Mr. Lucky seemed more like a younger sibling, and she loved Jenny as a sister. All her friends appeared to be matched with one another. Recalling Lucy’s earlier insistence she find a man, the couples left her feeling more alone.
He continued, saying, “I’m certain of that, Miss Ellen. Skeeter? Can you help your sister take the food back to your family?”
“Sure, Mr. Granville.” The young boy picked up the pan and stood tall. “I’d be glad to.”
He didn’t seem to adopt the same serious tone. “Which chore is everyone willing to do? I can stake out the animals tonight.”
“I’ll help you,” said Joe.
Lucky shrugged. “I can help Lefty wash dishes.”
“That leaves me to set up bedding,” Arnold volunteered.
“With my help,” Del added.
Everyone got to their feet, and the various men set off to get their work finished. Ellen suppressed a sigh and looked at Del from under her lashes as he spoke with the others. She paid more attention to how he appeared than to what he was saying. If she were honest in her feelings, she’d admit he did cut a formidable and handsome figure. Just her luck, the only man anywhere near attractive to her was a redskin. Skeeter leaned against Ellen, his eyelids drooping and the quarter full cook pot shaky in his arms. She smoothed down his cowlick, asking, “Do you want to go back?”
“Not yet. I like Mr. Do Bose.”
She put her arm around him. “Very well, we can stay for a moment or two longer but not much more.”
“Yeah.” He yawned. “We don’t want to give the others a cold dinner.”
“No, we don’t.” She took the food from him as he yawned, not wanting to think of the towering anger her father might have after all this. He wouldn’t understand how she’d stayed for little Skeeter’s sake as well as her other family members. Two mouths eating elsewhere even for one dinner helped their wagon’s stores. Maybe this food would mollify him.
Ellen didn’t feel right just leaving without thanking the men for including them. She waited, using Del’s distraction in chatting with Sam to stare at him from the corner of her glasses. She liked the calm air the darker man had about him and his deep voice. His English held a strong French accent mixed with the staccato pattern of the few Indians she’d heard in town and on the trail. She almost liked listening to Del even when he seemed to speak gibberish. He made a fascinating subject to study.
He seemed so calm for a man half modern, half primitive. If not for their animal hide tents, she just knew the natives would be living in caves like prehistoric peoples. Ellen squinted her eyes. In the firelight, Del seemed much more savage than civilized. His high cheekbones and piercing eyes fit any nobleman she’d seen in her hometown. If he cut his hair and wore pants to match his shirt instead of those horrible buckskins, he’d almost pass for a proper gentleman. She frowned, knowing if his skin were a few shades paler her father would do anything to call Adelard Du Boise his
son in law. The very idea of marrying him sent a shiver through her.
Her little brother stirred and she glanced down at him. He was almost asleep as their family’s food dried into jerky. Analyzing her feelings about Mr. Du Boise would have to wait until later. Ellen hugged Skeeter before she felt a rustle to her left.
“Mademoiselle Winslow?”
She looked up into his eyes to catch the full force of Del’s attention on her. “Yes?”
“I suspect you must go?” His nod indicated her near sleeping brother.
“You suspect correctly.” She patted Skeeter on the shoulder and he woke with a protesting groan. “Thank you so much for the dinner, and my family thanks you as well.”
“My pleasure. Would you like an escort back to your home? Or is it wagon?”
She shook her head, not wanting to let her father see them together. “There’s no need. We’ll be fine. I doubt much could happen to us between here and there.”
“I agree. My friend hired the best men for your journey. He’ll ensure you and yours sleep well.”
Ellen stayed silent, at a loss for words yet not wanting to say goodbye. “They’ve been doing perfectly so far.”
The boy rubbed his eyes. “You’re a good cook, Mr. Do Bose. You can fix supper for us anytime you like.”
“Skeeter! Such rudeness! You know better than to invite yourself for dinner!” She gave him a warning look and took his hand. “It’s bedtime for you.”
Del ruffled the boy’s hair. “Merci, monsieur. I’ll remember next time the buffalo is too big for me to eat all at once.” He shrugged. “It occasionally happens.” Turning his attention to Ellen, he said, “From one coast of this country to the other and after visiting two continents, to think I’d find a treasure such as you here. Goodnight, ma coeur.”
When he held out his hand, she took it without thinking. Del bent to kiss her hand, his lips warm in contrast to the cool night air. The tingle raced along her nerves where they touched, at last settling in her heart. This is how Cupid’s arrow must feel, she supposed but stopped just short of returning his smile. The reminder that arrows must be Del’s weapon of choice sobered her as Ellen’s hand slid from his. No matter his refined language and impeccable manners, he wasn’t a true man but an animal. “Thank you, I appreciate the sentiment.”
“I look forward to our next encounter.”
His grin and warm eyes caused her heart to skip several beats. She glanced around, seeing the other couples saying their goodbyes. They lingered while all she wanted to do was escape. “Oh, well, thank you.” Ellen needed to examine the odd feelings Del caused when talking to or touching her. She addressed the others as they carried out their evening tasks, “Goodnight, everyone.”
They all responded as a mob, each distracted by another. Her brother tugged at her arm. “Sis, can I carry the food to Ma and Pa?”
“Yes, you may. Again, thank you, Mr. Du Boise.” She smiled at their host and handed the pail to Skeeter. At Del’s acknowledgement, they left the group.
The boy carried the pail until it grew too heavy. Ellen took it from him and held his hand as they walked. Now lighter, he hopped over tufts of grass. “Ain’t that indun amazin’, sis?”
“Isn’t he amazing?”
“He sure is.”
Ellen suppressed her amusement at how her subtle grammar lesson went unnoticed. He’d learn soon enough in school. Until then, she’d keep trying to be a good example.
“Wonder how long he’ll camp with us. Likely he has lots of warpaths to go on, don’tcha think?” Stumbling over a jump, he grabbed onto Ellen with both hands. “Mr. Do Bose prolly has a lot of scalps. He looks and acts nice, but I’m bettin’ he’s gone all over, massacrin’ right and left.”
This drew Ellen up short and she almost stopped in her tracks. Had he been on a true warpath, collected scalps, and killed women and children? “Probably so.” She shuddered at the thought. Del seemed so calm, kind, and handsome. He cut a different figure than the begging or hostile types of his people. Somehow, he’d been educated and she wanted to know where. How else had he learned such charm and grace? Tall, certainly dark, and yes, attractive, he might appeal to a woman wanting a man less ordinary.
She also noticed how he’d caught her looking at him every time. Ellen’s face grew warm as she realized Del had been examining her just as much as she had him. Maybe he’d not met many tall women wearing spectacles. Most Indian women she’d seen until now had had neither attributes. With an unconscious nod she decided that must be the reason for his understandable curiosity. At least they both had that trait in common.
Once at their wagon, Skeeter ran up to their father. “Pa! Pa! We ate dinner with a real indun, and he didn’t kill us or nothin’! He was real nice and all!”
“Well, I’ll be.” Mr. Winslow ruffled the boy’s hair, grinning at him. “Go on and help your ma with little Buster.”
Ellen took a deep breath for bravery’s sake and stepped up to her father. “Pa, the others wanted us to bring you what was left.”
His face in stone, he took the pail and threw it with all his strength. The meal went several yards into the dark outside the campfire light.
“Pa! That was your—”
Before she could react, he backhanded her. The force threw her to the ground. She landed on her left elbow and knee hard, while her right hand took a lot of her upper body weight. Ellen closed her eyes, waiting for more. Sure enough, he kicked her lower back once, then again. Much to her dismay, she whimpered from the sudden shock of pain and gritted her teeth. Ellen didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of crying.
He grabbed her arm and jerked her off the ground. His anger gave him added strength as he shook her. “You were told to have nothing to do with that animal. You were told to leave with us. Are you some kind of Indian lover? You want to run off with the tribe?”
His fingers dug into her arms and she winced at the pain. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry, Pa.” He squeezed harder. “Please, Pa, I really am.”
Lucy patted his back, distracting him. “Now, Jack, she apologized. Let’s forget all this before someone sees.”
He shrugged off his wife’s hand. “Stay the hell away from that man. I don’t like Granville associating with him and others like him, and I won’t have you doing it too.” He shoved Ellen backward.
Taking his arm and not letting him pull away, Lucy led him toward their bedrolls. “Mr. Granville is most likely placating them while we pass through. I can’t imagine him having anything to do with such people after reaching Oregon Territory.”
Now distracted, Jack agreed with her. “I expect you’re right. No decent man would, and Granville’s that at least.”
They disappeared around the wagon, and Ellen heard their voices but not the words. She glanced around to see if there were witnesses. Sometimes Pa could curse loud enough to make the earth shake. Even as noisy as he’d been, her father’s outburst had attracted no attention. She wiped tears and dust from her eyes. The bridge of her nose stung, and still a little dazed, she knelt down, searching for her glasses. She could take anything but hits to the face. Those hurt when smashing into, or worse, breaking her glasses. No blurred people stood around gaping, so that was positive. She disliked the prospect of finishing the trip while nearly blind and sighed in relief at finding her glasses, although she was reluctant to put them back on until her nose stopped throbbing.
“You’re all right, dear?”
“Yes, Ma.” Ellen appreciated how her stepmother had been there to distract her father. “Thank you.”
“You know he doesn’t mean to hurt you. He just has a terrible temper, and you knew staying with that man insulted him and hurt his pride. He thought you’d chosen an enemy over your own father.”
Did Lucy know she babbled when making excuses for her husband? “It’s fine, Ma. I did know what I was doing.” She brushed the dirt off her skirt. “Skeeter got a good meal, and Pa was spared two mouths to feed tonight.” She waved at th
e bucket a few yards away. “He only harmed himself, you, and Buster with that display.”
Anger flashed in her eyes. “I don’t agree, but let’s talk about all that later. Are you injured anywhere?” Her stepmother took Ellen’s right hand, waving it to see if it had been broken, then lifted her arm to check her elbow. “No more than usual it seems. The bleeding will stop soon, I’m sure. Rub a little dirt into it and—”
“I know the routine, Ma.” The words came out sharper than Ellen intended. Her right wrist shot pain through her arm with each heartbeat. She smiled at the woman in reassurance. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Everything will be back to normal tomorrow, you’ll see.”
Nodding, Ma replied, “Yes, normal, mostly. Your father was very angry at your betrayal, don’t forget. Maybe you could be on your best behavior tomorrow.”
“I will, I promise. Meanwhile, I’ll care for this and get ready for bed.” As soon as her Ma’s back turned, Ellen stopped smiling. Taking a deep breath hurt but nothing poked. She knew how a broken rib felt. She extracted any little splinters from the ground-in dirt in her palm. Her wrist would never heal at this rate. She’d fractured it in a wagon accident weeks ago and wanted to wrap the aching joint with a stiff strip of cloth after this fresh injury. Doing so would attract unwelcome attention, so she decided to ignore the pain. She tried moving her hand normally and winced from the sudden stinging. Ellen blinked back the tears as she went to retrieve Sam’s food bucket. Being a baby solved nothing.
She picked up Sam’s cookpot from the darkness, a step landing in squishy food. At least her Pa’s temper hadn’t included someone else in her family. Better her than anyone else, especially Skeeter. Buster was still safe for a few years, like Skeeter had been. She’d seen the boy earn Pa’s wrath once and had put herself between the two ever since. Exhaustion hit Ellen like a gust front, and she longed to write in her journal. After cleaning up, of course, and only after getting breakfast set out for cooking tomorrow. She went to the water bucket not surprised to see it dry. She suppressed an irritated sigh, scooped it up, and carried pail and pot to the Green River.
Uncivilized Page 2