Antebellum BK 1 (44 page)

“
Treated badly.”

“
Oh.”

“
Do your people permit polygamy?” she asked.

“
Sometimes a man will bring his wife’s younger sister into his family, and widows must be adopted until they find new husbands,” he said. “I cannot say if that is what you call polygamy.”

“
Well, what you’re talkin’ about sure isn’t the same as this no matter what you call it. The lady that I was having tea with just now is one of twenty-six wives. That new house across the street, the one that looks like a hotel, is being built to accommodate some of them and their children.”

“
Twenty-six wives? How many children does he have?”

“
I didn’t ask. Why?”

“
It seems to me that feeding so many mouths would be difficult.”

“
It seems to me that servicing so many young women would be difficult.”

“
Servicing?”

“
Yes. You know.” She used a vulgar gesture to illustrate. “I need servicing more than once every twenty-six days.”

“
That is not a subject that we should discuss,” Coyote said indignantly.

“
Why not?”

“
It is private.”

“
Who told you that?”

He looked puzzled. “I could be wrong. Am I?”

She giggled. “No, you’re not wrong. As you’ve mentioned, I’m not very ladylike. I grew up like you with nobody to tell me good manners from bad. Now I usually know the difference, but – I guess – bad is just more fun, sometimes.”

“
Especially times when you can confound me with it.”

“
Confound you?” She turned to look at him. “Your English has really improved.”

“
Has it?”

“
Yes. I guess teaching Jack your language works both ways.”

“
I think Jack was really helping me by asking me to help him.”

“
Could be. Jack’s like that.”

“
He is a good man.”

“
Yes. Far better than I deserve.” She waited a moment, then nudged him with her elbow. “You’re supposed to contradict me and say something nice about me.”

“
Your hair is very pretty. I like the color.”

Clementine laughed. “Good try.”

He pointed toward their circled wagons. “The soldiers are still here.”

“
The officer in charge said that they’d stay to protect our property and keep any livestock from wandering off.”

“
Do you believe that?”

“
No, but I guess we’re about to find out.” She walked up to the officer in charge. “Do you know how far it is to Yellowstone from here, Captain?”

“
Yellowstone isn’t a single place, ma’am, it’s a vast area that covers hundreds of miles. You’ll come upon it about four hundred miles north and a little east of here.”

“
Have you been there?”

“
No ma’am.”

“
Thank you.” She started toward the wagons, then stopped. “Our people should start trickling back soon. There’s no need for you to stay.”

“
Are you sure? It’s no trouble.”

“
I’m sure. Thank you for your help.”

He gave her a salute, then mounted his horse. “Sergeant, pass the word that the men are dismissed.”

~

“
Seven families are definitely staying here in Salt Lake City,” Jack said. “Two or three others are unsure if it’s now safe to continue on north with our reduced number.”

Clementine moved the coffee pot off the fire, then stuffed her burned fingers into her mouth. “Shit.”

“
You use that word often lately,” Jack said.

“
So Coyote has informed me.”

The look on her face warned that she was ready to fight, so Jack pulled on a glove and lifted the coffee pot by its ring, then poured coffee into three tin cups without another word.

“
If you want to go with the others,” Coyote said, “I can find my people from here.” He handed one of the cups to Clementine and took another for himself.

Jack shook his head. “Two of the wagons signed on specifically to go to Yellowstone.”

“
Buffalo hunters,” Coyote said, making a face to show his distaste. “The safety of the family wagons is more important.”

“
What do you think, Clem?” Jack cautiously sipped his coffee.

“
You wanted to go to Yellowstone,” she said.

“
I know what I wanted,” Jack replied. “This is a new situation.”

“
New in what way?” she asked. “We were always going to leave the others on the Oregon Trail and go on north with the buffalo hunters.”

“
But now, with fewer wagons, the journey from here to the Oregon Trail has become more dangerous,” Jack said.

“
Turning around is just as dangerous,” Clementine insisted. “It was only luck that we didn’t run into any hostiles on the way here.”

“
I thought you’d jump at the chance to abandon the trip to Yellowstone,” Jack said to Clementine.

She shrugged. “I’m for whatever’s gonna keep us alive. If we keep on goin’ north we’ll come onto Coyote’s people and from then on we’ll be safe.”

“
There is no safety for you with my people,” Coyote argued. “They might not even accept me back.”

“
You don’t understand,” Jack said to Coyote. “There’s a treaty between the Army and the Sioux. That’s what Clementine means.”

Coyote shook his head. “It is you that does not understand. The Sioux are many small bands united only by customs and a similar language. We have no telegraph or mail. The white man refuses to understand this and makes treaties with one band expecting all the other bands to abide by the terms.”

Jack looked surprised. “Now that’s a profound truth.”

“
Why would you not already know it without me telling you?” Coyote asked.

“
Because it’s not the same in the east,” Jack replied. “The tribes are tighter knit and the bands, as you call them, come together often for council meetings.”

“
How can they do this?” Coyote asked.

“
The territories are much smaller in the east,” Clementine replied.

Jack nodded. “You can ride from one end to the other of most eastern territories in a few hours, or maybe as much as a few days. The Sioux territory would take a year to cross.”

“
We both have much to learn,” Coyote said, gazing into the fire.

Jack looked into his coffee cup. “Your way of life isn’t going to survive, Coyote. I’ve seen the eastern tribes swallowed up. The same thing will happen here.”

Coyote looked at him. “We will fight.”

“
And you’ll lose,” Jack answered. “The ports are overflowing with people who’ve come to America for free land and gold. The railroads will soon connect the Atlantic to the Pacific. Travel from New York to San Francisco will be measured in days instead of months. Towns will spring up at every whistle stop and water hole. No matter how well you fight, the white man’s industrial advantage is too much to overcome.”

“
What must we do?” Coyote asked. “Submit?”

“
Adapt,” Clementine said. “That’s the real white man’s advantage. They come here from all over the world and adapt to become Americans. You have to do the same.”

“
We were here first,” Coyote argued.

“
Doesn’t matter,” Clementine replied. “Adapt or die.”

Jack tossed the dregs from his coffee cup into the fire. “Better get some sleep. We’re heading north at daybreak, with anyone that wants to come along.”

June
11, 1855

Fort Bridger, the Oregon Trail

A
ll trails between the West Coast and Utah Territories converged at Fort Bridger. It was situated on an island formed by the fractured channels of an unnamed river. Built from pickets driven into the sandy soil, it contained numerous buildings and a stockyard. “It’s a private enterprise, not an official fort,” Captain Howard Stansbury was saying to Jack.

“
Who owns it?” Jack asked.

“
That’s currently under debate,” the Captain replied. “It was originally established by Jim Bridger, but the Mormons seized it in ‘53. We’re here to keep the peace until it gets straightened out in the courts.”

Jack chuckled. “Since Congress seems unable to decide if we’re standing in the Wyoming, Utah or Montana Territory, a quick legal solution seems unlikely.”

Stansbury nodded. “I’m in no hurry. There’s worse duty than this.”

“
Agreed.” Jack looked toward the mountains. “Do you have much trouble with Indians?”

“
Not much. This isn’t a permanent home to any of the tribes, so nobody seems to feel compelled to drive us off.” He gestured toward the north. “Somebody said that you’re planning to go on to Yellowstone with only three wagons.”

“
That’s the plan.”

“
If you’ll forgive me for saying so, it’s a foolish plan. We see dozens of hunters and trappers go north every spring and only one or two come back in the fall. I might add that those who do come back are usually the same men who’ve gone up there and come back many times before. It’s apparently a very hard place for the uninitiated.”

Jack shrugged. “I know the risks.”

The captain looked at Clementine who had just returned from the trading post. “White women are an extraordinarily valuable commodity in these mountains. A woman as beautiful as your wife isn’t safe. My men haven’t taken their eyes off her since you pulled in.”

Jack didn’t like the way the captain was looking at Clementine. “If you value your men’s lives you’ll keep them on a short rein,” Jack said. “I won’t hesitate to kill them as quickly as I would any marauding Indians.”

“
I was simply trying to drive home my point, sir.”

“
Your point was well made and has been taken,” Jack said. “Excuse me. I better go help my wife load the wagon.” He trotted to take a sack of flour from Clementine, then heaved it onto the open tailgate. “Where’s Coyote?”