Dances Naked (23 page)

Ж

“I hate to bother you
,
but when do you think we can head out to The Trees?” Marty asked Red Shirt when they were alone, the two of them hauling in long lengths of fallen trees to turn into building timbers.

Red Shirt heard him, even knew the meaning of e
very word he was saying, but didn’t reply. Maybe if he ignored him, he’d quit asking. Maybe, but not likely.

“Ahem, ahem,” Marty cleared his throat loudly. Red Shirt cut his eyes over to the insistent white man. He might as well pay attention to him now or he’d never leave him alone. He put down the tree and stood up straight to face the man’s question.

Marty gulped when he realized how much of a pest he must seem. There was a lot of work to do and Red Shirt wanted to get it done. “I know you have to build homes for your family and the rest of the tribe,” Marty said and pointed his right hand over to indicate the people, “but if you could see fit to just take a couple of days out of your time to get me at least headed in the right direction, I’d really appreciate it. I really, really want to get back to my wife and son as soon as possible,” he explained, again using his air drawn curvy woman and cradled baby sign language, unintentionally ending his plea with a stuck out bottom lip and a sniffle.

Red Shirt sighed deeply. It was the same story, just told on a different day. If he didn’t give him some answer, he’d hear the plea again tonight, tomorrow morning and on and on until he did have the time to lead him to those bad medicine trees. Red Shirt pointed to the clear sky
,
then the storm-killed tree
they were
hauling back to camp
,
then over to the woods where he would find more timber to bring in. He brought one hand up above his head and wafted his fingers down to indicate snowflakes
,
then cupped them together upside down to form a house. He finished his answer with a head shake, no, and then gave him the sign for a home four more times. They needed to build five homes before he would lead him to where he wanted to go.

“Five,” Marty said with a grimace as he held up his opened hand, displaying all fingers and thumb. “Five homes and then you’ll take me to see my family?” Marty asked
,
although he was sure that’s what Red Shirt was trying to tell him.

Red Shirt nodded curtly
,
then bent down and picked up his lumber source. He had ‘spoken’ and now it was time to get to work. It was
late
summer
,
but they should have time to get all of their homes built now that they didn’t have to go hunting. It was too late to plant any crops
,
but they could clear some land after their homes were built. And
,
if Dances Naked stayed, he’d probably help with the work. He was old and a white man
,
but still an asset to his tribe. And
,
he was also smart and knew that the sooner the tribe’s chores were done, the sooner he would get back to his wife and son.

W

inter was still several months away
,
but Little Bear wanted to scout out his new trapping territory early. He knew the local fur trader would know if someone else was already working the area. Michael Huntsman was a decent man although usually a bit too tightfisted in his bargaining. It wa
sn’t that he was mean or cheap—he
just liked to talk. The longer he could haggle over a good price for his foodstuffs against the pelts, the longer he could visit and socialize.

Little Bear had traded with Michael for three years now and was looking forward to seeing him a
gain. Well, not exactly Michael—
he was eager to see if his daughter, Prudence, was still single. He didn’t know if she was timid or just being respectful of her father’s business when she stayed in the background while they negotiated prices. She never said much
,
but did seem to know the value of furs and which ones were in demand as well as her father did.

Yes, he would like to see her and that sweet smile that peeked out from under her oversized mobcap again. Maybe he’d have enough nerve to ask for her hand this year. 
It could be that
it was too much to hope that a bright woman like her would want to live a rugged life with someone
like him—
an outcast British doctor who dressed, acted, and spoke like an Indian. But
,
that was who he was and
,
no matter how bright and appealing a woman was, he wasn’t going to change for her or anyone else. He had tried that once and it didn’t turn out very well. But
,
coming to America was a good choice, even if it hadn’t been his decision to make.

However,
that was years ago and now he was embarking on a new season in his career of choice. Yes, Michael’s store wasn’t exactly on his way to his new trapping grounds
,
but he did need supplies and still had a few prime, tanned beaver furs left to barter for winter supplies. And
,
he still had a glimmer of hope that he’d leave with a wife, too.

Ж

He smelled him before he heard the grunts, moans
,
and snorts. Little Bear was downwind of a man who couldn’t make up his mind on whether to cry, curse
,
or chuckle. He quickly
tied up
his mule
s
and hurried closer for a better look at the source of the fec
al stench and mercurial moods.

And
,
there he was, buried up to his neck with large stones
,
pebbles,
and dirt,
a rough sliver of wood just out of reach of his mouth. It appeared that he had been using the little
scrap
as a shovel to move the smaller pieces of rock and rubble away from his fa
ce. Little Bear shook his head—
there was no way he was going to disinter the man. This was obviously an Indian form of punishment or death. The Cherokees around here wouldn’t torture anyone just for fun; this man must have deserved it.

Little Bear watched as the man stretched and strained, finally sticking out his tongue far enough that he was able to urge the wooden pick to his mouth. He wrapped his lips around it
,
and
then started flinging pebbles away from his neck, pausing after a couple of minutes to pant and curse through teeth clenched tightly around his treasured stick. He wasn’t going to let loose of his improvised tool again.

Just as he was leaving, Little Bear remembered where he had smelled that stench and heard that whiny voice. This was the man who had beaten his little sister about the head and
shoulders six, or was it seven,
years ago. “Hmph,” Little Bear snorted, not caring whether he was heard of not. That monster child-beater definitely deserved his punishment, if not for what he did to anger the Cherokee
,
then for the way he had pummeled his little sister. He should have hit him harder and spared the Indians the inconvenience. At l
east she was away from him now—
hopefully
,
she was safe.

Ж

“Hey, there, Little Bear!” Michael called out. “What did you bring me?”

Little Bear smiled at his friend, happy that the old man was still here. He looked around casually as he scanned the area for Prudence
,
and remarked, “Doesn’t look like anything’s ch
anged.”

“Well, the house and store are the same
,
but there’s just me here now,”
he
replied.

Michael
was waiting for Little Bear to ask where Prudence was
,
but the trapper wasn’t biting. He knew chatty Michael would tell him soon enough.

And
,
he did. “Ye see, my daughter
,
Prudence, ye remember her, aye?”

“Aye,” Little Bear answered, hoping he’d get to the point right away.

“Weel, ye see, she always wanted to go to England to see the castles and churches and such. She has kin there, her Uncle Remus. He told her that she was welcome there anytime and I guess she thought that now was a good time. I was disappointed though. I had a fine husband picked out for her: Sylvester, the blacksmith over at Chapel Hill. But she didn’t care for him. She said that those red bumps all over his skin was the pox. Hmph! She coulda stayed here and had a good husband.  He’d treat her nice, never beat her, give her lots of pretty things
,
but she’d rather go gallivantin’ off to see her Uncle.” Michael shook his head in frus
tration. “Now, enough about her—
what did ye bring me?”

Little Bear showed him the top grade beaver pelts that he had tanned over the summer, the ones he had held back to give a bride if he could find one. But
,
it looked like the only single woman who interested him was thousands of miles away in the country he had promised himself he would never return to.

The only other woman who had turned his head was married: Evie. She was with child when they parted ways last year. Surely
,
she’d delivered her baby without a problem
,
but she may not have been able to keep her husband, or keep him alive. Ian had sworn vengeance on the men who had captured and tortured him. He hadn’t said he was leaving Evie
,
but Little Bear could see that a wife and child didn’t fit into Ian’s retaliation plans. Bu
t, Evie was sure to be all right:
she had her husband’s Uncle Jody and Aunt Sarah to watch over her. Hmm, it was quite possible t
hat she was now a single woman—
widowed or otherwise. Maybe he’d go back to the Pomeroy’s place next spring
and see. Maybe he could get a wife and a child at the same time.

Ж

Little Bear knew that if he had been willing to stay longer, he could have bargained for more food. But
,
even though he rushed the transaction, he had managed to get plenty of cornmeal, sal
t, coffee, a couple rashers of bacon
,
and a bag of dried apples for the beaver furs. He waited until Michael thought they were done then brought out the flawless mink fur.

“I guess I won’t be needin’ a ham for a wedding dinner after all,” Michael said as he offered Little Bear the smoked meat as a trade for the mink, his only good deal of the day. “I still have a couple of other small hams that’ll last me quite a while.” He purred as he stroked the ultra-soft pelt, “Ah, I always did want a mink pillow cover.”

Of course, the information that no one had been trapping due west was just what the trapper had wanted to hear. He’d head out there right now and see the river up close while it was still summer. It was easier to see the best places to set up traps and cross the water now
,
before snowfall hid the landscape.

It w
as late when he left Michael’s—
too late to do anything but find a place to spend the night. He traveled an hour
,
found a clearing with large boulders scattered about
,
and decided to set up camp there. He could climb on top of the highest pile of stones and see the shortest route to the river. It was approaching dusk and he needed to survey the area before he lost his last bit of daylight; the mules could stay loaded a few minutes longer. He looked down as he started to scale the first in the series of stair stepping boulders and saw it: cornmeal bits and hoof and shoe prints. It looked like a woman’s shoe had tried to erase the traces of cornmeal and hoof prints on the ground. Why would a woman, any woman, be out here? It had to be a white woman, too, because squaws didn’t wear shoes with heels. And
,
these were most likely Indian
ponies that had passed through—t
hey weren’t shod.

Little Bear looked at his mules then at the stones: they needed a break and the view of the trail would still be there in the morning. The skies were clear and the trail of the woman following the Indian ponies would be no harder to follow tomorrow than it was now. He sighed and shook his head as he started unpacking the mu
les. “Time for dinner, girls; we can deal with this conundrum in the morning. It’s been a long day.”

Ж

If he hadn’t stopped where he did, he probably wouldn’t have seen the trail
. Yes, the woman, or very small-
footed man, had done a fair job of obscuring t
he trail of cornmeal
,
but once he had seen it, he knew what to look for. Of course, he erased the clues as he followed them. If Michael wanted to believe that his daughter had gone to England, he’d let him. Prudence was a bright girl and
,
by the look of disappointment in the old man’s face as he related the tale of the unrequited arranged marriage, he would bet that the smart woman had fashioned her own escape. Hopefully
,
she was safe. But
,
she was wise and wouldn’t take off without a destination and a plan
. “Hmph,” he remarked, spooking the mules that weren’t used to hearing him speak. “Now I’m curious.”