“How do you know the government will buy them from you?”
“We moved here bearing letters of recommendations from the commanders of Kentucky forts. Because of those letters, I’ve been designated as a government stock raiser. The appointment carries a contract of $20 a head. Since beef sells for far higher than that in the East, they think that’s a fair price.”
“That’s a $14 profit per head,” Louisa said, impressing him with how quickly she did the math in her head.
“Exactly right. And there are a dozen forts within a reasonable distance from here. The first one we are selling to is Arkansas Post, about two-hundred and fifty miles to the east. My brothers and I will be driving the cattle to the fort next month or in early November. And next spring, we are making our first trip to Fort Smith.”
“We came through Arkansas Post on the way here. We stayed about a month,” Louisa said. “The people there will be glad to see your cattle coming. Beef is a real luxury there. People mostly have to eat deer and buffalo.”
“Tell me what you remember,” Samuel said.
“Well, the Post contains about thirty houses inside its walls in rows along two streets. The inhabitants are mostly French. American settlers live in a separate village north of the post, but Americans are now building within the fort too. A large, prosperous trading post on the north end is operated by a man named Mr. Bright. There’s talk of the Post becoming the first capital of the Arkansas Territory.”
“Will there be water for my cattle?”
“Oh yes, the Arkansas River feeds several bayous surrounding the Post.”
“And Indians?” Samuel asked.
“I read that last year the Cherokees signed a treaty with the United States that establishes a large reservation between the Arkansas and White rivers. They’re mostly farmers.”
Astonished at how informed and knowledgeable she was, he gazed at her with admiration. “Your father said you can barely write. How is it that you can do math and know so much?”
“It’s true, I’m not yet good at writing, but my mother and stepmother taught me math and we read our Bible together. I can read well. I mostly read newspapers. I read the Arkansas Gazette every day while we were there at the Post. The printer’s apprentice gave me free copies. I think he might have been smitten with me.”
That didn’t surprise Samuel at all. “You’re so pretty, I’m sure he was besotted.”
She blushed prettily and looked away.
“The settlement’s trading posts sell Louisiana newspapers,” he said, “but they are always at least a month old.”
“Mostly, I’ve learned to just keep my eyes and ears open. I love learning new things. You never know when knowledge will come in handy.”
Stretched out before them the herd grazed on waving grass that tickled their undersides. The sight always brought joy to Samuel’s heart. He had no interest in farming and no intention of ever leaving the back of his horse to stand behind a plow. Like his father, he wanted to be a cattleman. To travel the prairies rounding up or buying cattle. And then to travel to other places to sell them. And Red River country, with its wide open spaces, was the place to do it. A cattle operation needed enough land that during times of drought the cattle could still find grass to forage. And during winter, there would be enough freeze-dried grass to still provide some nourishment.
“Your herd is impressive,” Louisa said. “How many cows is that?”
“About three-hundred, not counting the bulls and calves.”
“So with the five-hundred you’ll be buying you’ll have more than eight-hundred head.”
“And our herd will grow fast because we’ll be keeping all the heifer calves. In a couple of years, they’ll all be calving too. They’ll be the beginning of our Red River Cattle Company. As his oldest son, and the one with the most interest in raising cattle, my father has turned over the management of our cattle operation to me. I’m the majority owner and my brothers each have a third of the other half of our cattle company. Besides my brothers, I plan to hire about five more men to help us drive the cattle to various markets.”
For their first cattle drive, Billy had agreed to be the first man Samuel ever hired. He swallowed his disappointment.
Samuel rode closer to the cows. Many of them glanced up but then quickly resumed grazing while stocky little calves frolicked together in the grass between their mothers. He loved how the calves always played together like children. As he always did, Rusty grazed off by himself a little distance away. The bull’s long, smooth horns glowed in the sun like a crown.
“If our cattle operation grows as I think it will, we’ll be able to provide seasonal jobs for most of the men at the settlement.”
“What made you want to be a cattleman?”
“Well, my family has always raised cattle. So I guess it’s in my blood. What I like about it is that I am able to support and improve my cattle business from the raw materials nature provides like water and grass. That’s all cattle really need. That and a few hands to watch over them to be sure they don’t roam off too far. And I don’t have to worry about a freeze or a flood or a drought destroying my crop. Most of all, I like not being confined to a few acres standing behind a plow and an ornery mule all day. I can roam the open pastures and travel even further when I buy and sell.”
Louisa gazed out over the herd. “It sounds as though you have a lot of plans for the future,” she said with a wistful note in her voice.
“Forgive me for talking so much about my plans and my future. What about you? What do you want?”
“I wish I could plan my own future. I wish I even had a future to look forward to. I wish I had something to hope for.” She pressed a closed fist to her lips and shook her head. “As the Scottish proverb says, ‘If wishes were horses then beggars would ride.’”
This strong and beautiful woman—a woman he’d been attracted to since he first saw her in the riverbed—was admitting things to him that made him want to make the world right for her. A place where she would have a future. A world where she could be happy and feel loved.
Loved by him.
The thought gripped his heart with astounding force.
“Maybe you do have a future,” he said. “Maybe you can control your future.”
She didn’t look like she believed him. In fact, she looked aghast. “How? Just how would I do that? You don’t understand anything about me. A woman has no rights to her own future. I’m just as much a slave as any slave. I have to do what I’m told. Live where I’m told. And give myself to a man just because my father picked him! If I don’t, I’ll be beaten. Maybe not with a whip. But the cruel words and punishments my father lashes out…” she paused searching for the right words. “They rip at my heart.”
“Louisa, I…”
Louisa turned to him with burning eyes. “I’ve tried to please my father my whole life, but it is never enough. I’m sick to death of it. I want to live. Marry for love! But I can’t! I have to…”
Her voice rose with each sentence and Samuel could see the hurt on her reddened face.
“Have to do what?” he asked.
Bristling with anger, she said, “Don’t follow me. I don’t want any man near me!” She whirled the mare around and took off at a gallop.
“Louisa!”
Chapter 14
Louisa’s heart ached as she rode. She shouldn’t have raised her voice at Samuel. He’d been nothing but kind to her. But her pent-up emotions got the best of her. Unable to repress them any longer, she’d let all her frustration and resentment out on him because he didn’t seem to understand that she had no control over her future. No control over anything. No options. No hope. Samuel just didn’t understand what it was like to have someone control her every decision.
And the more she’d listened to Samuel and heard the pride in his voice as he told her of his wonderful plans, the more she wanted to be with him. Not Commander Long! She’d been so furious at her situation she couldn’t speak.
She could only run away at a gallop. With each powerful stride of the horse, another question assailed her. Where should she go? What should she do? She felt like just riding and riding. Letting the mare and the wind fly her somewhere where she could lead her own life. Be her own person. Make her own decisions.
But she couldn’t. She had Adam to think of. She shuddered at the thought of going through with her plan. Nevertheless, she had to. And she would!
For now though, for a few reckless moments, she could experience freedom. She would taste what it felt like to be free. And then she would remember the feeling in the months and years to come whenever she felt trapped in her loveless marriage.
She let her body follow the horse's rocking motion, forward and back, forward and back. The sensation was a breathtaking combination of speed, energy, and blessed freedom.
She turned the mare into the woods and riding dangerously fast between and around trees she wove her way deeper and deeper into the ancient forest. Soon the underbrush was so thick she was forced to slow. She gave the mare her head, letting the horse find the best path. She glanced behind her several times, trying to keep track of where she was and the direction she was going.
The solitude here was glorious. The breeze whispered to her through the tall pines, and their thick boughs softened the sun’s light giving the forest an ethereal quality. Here and there berries or flowering understory trees sprinkled the forest with spots of cheerful color. She inhaled deeply and let the soothing, woodsy fragrance fill her lungs.
As she took another deep breath, the breeze kicked up and carried another scent. From behind her, the air bore the rancid smell of bear grease. She’d gotten a whiff of the unique odor once before at the Arkansas Post when some Osage braves came there to trade. They’d passed by her and Adam on the street and their chilling appearance and strange odor frightened both her and Adam. When Adam wrinkled his nose, a woman nearby told them that Osage braves used bear grease to make their hair stand on end and to keep their bodies warm.
She knew what that scent meant now.
Indians.
Her heart beat hard in her chest at the realization. She chanced a quick glance backward. The sight froze the breath in her chest. Three Osage braves. Their eyelids, cheeks, and upper body painted bright orange made her gasp with terror. And the red crest of hair on their heads, stuck with feathers at the back, made them look like vicious predators.
She gasped and fear grabbed her. She booted into the mare’s sides and took the horse to a full run despite the heavy woods. She wished now that she was riding Stephen’s big black stallion. She would be lucky if she could stay ahead of the Indians on this little mare.
The three Indians let out shrill yelps that echoed threateningly into the forest as they followed closely behind her, no doubt waiting for her horse to tire and slow.
She shivered as panic began to claim her. Why had she ridden away from Samuel? What a fool she was! She would be violated by these braves, taken away, and then she would truly be made a slave. She would never see Adam again.
Or Samuel.
Her throat tightened at the thought. Oh, God, please let me see them both again.
As she tore through the woods, limbs and branches slashed at her, snagging her gown and ripping the skirt. One branch snapped back on her face and the sting brought hot tears to her eyes. She blinked them away. She needed to stay strong. Somehow, she would survive this.
Up ahead in a small clearing she saw the wispy smoke of a campfire and her heart leaped with hope. “Help! Help! Indians!” she yelled repeatedly as she sped forward. She leaned down and urged the mare to run even faster. She had to reach the campfire and get help.
As she charged toward him, a man sprang up and grabbed his rifle. He appeared to be a leather-stocking. Trappers were often called leather stockings because their dress was generally deer-skin, unlike the more conventionally attired settlers.
He raised his longrifle and at once she heard the braves’ horses slow.
As she reached the trapper, she spun the mare around and faced her pursuers.
The Indians jerked up on their horses and skidded to a stop about fifteen yards away. Fortunately, none of them held rifles or pistols. The one in front clutched a knife in his hand. The other two held tomahawks. All three narrowed their eyes as they assessed the leather-stocking menacingly.
The trapper yelled something to the braves in what she assumed was their language. His stern voice and fearful countenance left no doubt that the words he spoke were meant to stop them. He kept the rifle held high, aiming at first one and then another, constantly moving the barrel back and forth between them.
One of the braves held up a hand and nodded. The same brave said something back.
The trapper spoke again. “Gud’baz fiendz.” This time his words seemed to bid them a friendly farewell.
To her astonishment, the three Osage nudged their horses and left, calmly walking past the man’s camp and disappearing into the deep woods beyond.
As they passed, Louisa again caught their scent. It was one she would never forget. She stared after them. Beneath her, the mare’s sides were heaving at the same rapid pace as her own racing heart.
“Thank you,” she said, still breathless.
The man nodded and rested his rifle against the log next to the fire.
“What did you say to them?” she asked.
“I told them you were my wife.”
“What?” she asked, shocked, and still very shaken.
“The Osage respect those who learn their language. And I’ve also studied their tribal customs. They have well-defined rules regarding marriage. They believe in the concept of commitment to one person in marriage. Telling them you were already claimed by me was the only way to keep them from taking you short of killing them.”
The man looked to Louisa as if he were perfectly capable of killing all three. He appeared to be a skilled fighter. An ornate sword rested near his fire. She’d seen one like it on a Spanish officer at the Arkansas Post. How had this man come by it? Leaning on his saddle, which rested on the ground, was a painted Indian case containing a bow and arrows. And the claws of a mountain lion or bear hung on rawhide from his neck. The most intimidating part of this man’s appearance, though, was the cougar head and skin that sat atop his gray-haired head. Although the cougar was eyeless, the animal’s features glowered fiercely. He also wore a hunting coat made of buckskin, and his leather leggings were gathered under his knees by beaded Indian garters. His wide belt held a large hunting knife with an antler grip. A bone powder horn dangled to his right and a leather ball pouch hung to his left.
Despite his menacing appearance, Louisa sensed that she could trust this man. There was something in his eyes that conveyed honesty.
She dismounted and nearly stumbled because her knees were still shaking so badly. She tied the mare on a pine bough and patted the horse’s sweaty neck. “Thank you for running so fast.”
Blowing hard, the horse snorted and took a deep breath.
The trapper’s gelding and pack horse whinnied and nickered a greeting to the mare.
Louisa also took a deep, calming breath before she addressed the man who had saved her life. “My name is Miss Louisa Pate.”
“I’m William Williams. My friends call me Old Bill because my hair grayed at an early age. Even if we ain’t really married, I figure we’re at least friends now, so call me Old Bill.”
“How is it that you speak the Osage language, Old Bill?”
“I served as a scout and translator with the Mississippi Mounted Rangers during the War of 1812. As I encountered local tribes, I learned their languages and studied their customs.”
“What brought you all the way to the Province of Texas?”
“Beaver, mostly. Along the bayous of the Sabine and the Red Rivers. I also wanted to learn the languages of the Osage, the Caddo, and Spanish. I’ve about got all three mastered.”
“That was indeed fortunate for me.”
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“Please sit,” he said, indicating a log by his fire.
She tried to sit down gracefully but nearly crumpled to the ground.
“You look like you could use some coffee,” he said.
She nodded and he poured her a pewter cupful. After handing the coffee to her, he sat down by the fire. “If I may ask, Miss Pate, what are you doing out here in the woods all by yourself?”
“I was wondering the same thing,” she said. She was so disappointed in herself. Maybe her father was right. Maybe she was just a foolish girl.
After blowing on the hot brew, she took a few restoring sips. “I was riding with my friend Samuel Wyllie. For some foolhardy reason, I decided to go off on my own.”
“I’m guessing you thought you had a good reason at the time.”
“In fact, Sir, it was a terribly rash and foolish thing to do. He gave me no reason to run off. But freedom called to me.”
“Freedom does that. If there is anything in life worth living for, it is freedom. I guess that’s why I became a trapper. I’m free to go where I want when I want.”
“What does it feel like to be truly free?”
He studied her for a moment. “Out of my distress I called on the Lord; the Lord answered me and set me free. Psalm 118.”
“That’s lovely,” she said.
“If your heart and mind are free, your spirit is free. But if one or the other becomes trapped in sin or life’s troubles, then your spirit cannot know freedom.”
Could she free her heart and mind of all that troubled her? She’d been praying a lot lately, but God had yet to set her free.
They both looked up and stood at the sound of a rider coming fast.
Samuel. Thank God. He must have tracked her. “That’s my friend, Samuel,” she told the man as she stood and gazed into the forest.
The trapper turned back to face her. “From the look in your eyes, I’d say he’s more than a friend.”
Samuel raced toward her, both worry and consternation on his handsome face.
Louisa was surprised at how much joy the sight of Samuel brought her. When the Indians were chasing her, her first thought had been escaping. Then she wondered if she would ever see Samuel again and the thought of losing him deeply saddened her. How much more sadness would she feel when she married Long?
Red River Rifles (Wilderness Dawning—the Texas Wyllie Brothers Series Book 1) Page 14