Gear, W Michael - Novel 05 (71 page)

 
          
 
Travis snorted. "Some do. Not all."

 
          
 
"But you, friends, are some. You are
warriors. You come with yer boat, Trawis Hartman. Dance. Eat. Wash-te"

 
          
 
Richard leaned close. "What's wash-te!
They keep saying that."

 
          
 
"Means good."

 
          
 
They stood, everyone smiling, shaking hands,
and Wah-Menitu called out, "Hooka hay!"

 
          
 
The Sioux let out blood-curdling screams
again, and danced away through the trees.

 
          
 
Travis replaced his pipe, and said, ''C'mon.
We'd best hustle and make sure we still got hosses. Be just like them red
varmints ter have lifted 'em while we was a-palavering."

 
          
 
''But they said they were friends,"
Richard cried.

 
          
 
''Whar ye been all yer life, Yankee?"
Baptiste muttered. "Among Injuns, even friends steal each other's
hosses."

 
          
 
''I was someplace sane," Richard muttered
as they trotted back toward the horses.

 
          
 
Travis grinned again. If the pilgrim thought
today was a scare, he'd be plumb twisted come tomorrow night.

 
          
 
''Sioux." At mention of the word the
assembled engages peered fearfully out at trees turned so suddenly ominous in
the twilight.

 
          
 
Heals Like A Willow shifted nervously as she
too stared into the woods. She knew the Sioux as Bambiji'mina, the
Cuts-Off-A-Head People. And their sign was the cut-throat sign. Among her
people, only the Pa 'kiani were more hated.

 
          
 
The entire attitude of the party had changed.
The engages, normally of cheerful countenance come the evening camp, now
fidgeted. An unbidden shiver ran down her back.

 
          
 
Trawis, Ritshard, and Baptiste stood at the
center of the knot of men. Behind them, Maria lay snugged tight to the bank by
her painter. Green stood halfway up the plank, thumb thrust in his belt.

 
          
 
''All right," Green called out. ''Before
we eat, I want trees drug up. Let's fort up. Horses inside, and double guard
tonight. Baptiste, take first watch. Dick, you're in charge of second, and
Travis third. I don't want anybody wandering out into the dark, hear?"

 
          
 
As
Willow
studied the men's faces, she decided any
such order was needless.

 
          
 
"How many Sioux?" Trudeau asked.

 
          
 
''Handful," Trawis stated. "But we
ain't taking no chances, not with Sioux. Hell, after Dick hyar got ter dancing
with 'em, I figger he wore them varmints plumb out."

 
          
 
''Dancing?" Green asked. Trudeau scowled
his disbelief.

 
          
 
"Hell, yes! Jumping and screaming like a
young buck back from his first hoss raid," Trawis cried. "Why, ye
should have seen 'em! Dick had 'em bunched up in a circle by the time we got
there. If'n they'd had a fight on, all Baptiste and me woulda had ter do would
be plug them coons from the trees."

 
          
 
Green lifted an eyebrow. Ritshard looked
sheepish. Trudeau snorted and stomped off in disgust.

 
          
 
"You heard me, now. Let's get forted up!
Nobody eats until I'm satisfied." Green waved them away. "And I don't
want nobody out there alone gathering logs! Groups of three, and sing out the
second you see anything."

 
          
 
The engages muttered among themselves as they
started for the trees. Trudeau kept glancing back over his shoulder and
swearing sourly.

 
          
 
Green turned. "Travis? What's your
opinion?"

 
          
 
Trawis pulled thoughtfully at his beard as he
walked up to the plank. "Reckon they won't try anything. That's just a
hunch, Dave. The way I figger, they's been starved fer trade last few years.
Might have a couple of kids sneak out just fer a try at the hosses. One of them
'Just ter show ye we could do her' raids. Mostly, I'd guess that Wah-Menitu
would want 'em ter leave us alone."

 
          
 
Green glanced at Baptiste, who said, "I'd
say the same, Booshway. Way I read it, Wah-Menitu's savvy enough to know he'll
get more from happy traders than mad ones."

 
          
 
"And Dick had 'em circled up?"

 
          
 
Ritshard flushed red, glancing down at the
toes of his moccasins.

 
          
 
"Just the way I told ye," Trawis
said with a twinkle.

 
          
 
"Shore 'nuff," Baptiste added,
straight-faced.

 
          
 
"Uh-huh." Green looked at
Willow
. "I want you on the boat. No sense in
baiting the Sioux with a Snake woman. You'll be a heap safer aboard."

 
          
 
Willow
reached down to the war club tied at her
waist. "I am no White woman, Green."

 
          
 
"Oh, I know that,
Willow
. But I want you out of harm's way,
hear?"

 
          
 
She glanced at Trawis, who nodded, fixing her
with those knowing blue eyes. "It ain't a' gonna hurt nothing to stay on
the boat fer a couple of days. These Sioux, they're a sneaky bunch."

 
          
 
Ritshard looked up. "Please,
Willow?"

 
          
 
One by one, she read their souls. Green wanted
her safe for his trade. Trawis worried that a friend might come to harm. And
Ritshard? That look betrayed the ache in his heart should anything happen to
her.

 
          
 
"I will do this. But if there is
fighting, I will take my bow and arrows and fight like a Dukurika."

 
          
 
"It’d be a help," Trawis replied.

 
          
 
Ritshard kicked hesitantly at the dirt, then
looked up with resignation. "Mr. Green? Just a moment." Ritshard
walked up to the plank. He clenched his fists, face strained. "I . . . I'd
like a rifle. Not that Pawnee's trade gun, but a Hawken. One like Travis's. And
powder and ball."

 
          
 
Green glanced at Trawis and saw his scarred
eyebrow raise. "You want a rifle?"

 
          
 
Ritshard shrugged. "Yes, sir. I do

 
          
 
"Why?" Green cocked his head.
"I thought you were going to run the first chance you got. Why should I
take a risk on a rifle

 
          
 
Ritshard took a breath. "On my word as a
gentleman, I won't run off with your rifle."

 
          
 
"But you might still run off."

 
          
 
Ritshard swallowed, struggling with himself.
"I ... I won't run off—at least, not yet. Not with the Sioux so
close."

 
          
 
Willow
noticed the barely suppressed smirk on
Trawis's face. Baptiste's black eyes glinted as he leaned on his rifle.

 
          
 
Green cast another glance at Trawis, who
nodded. "All right,
Hamilton
. It'll go against your wages. You understand?''

 
          
 
Ritshard now stood lodgepole-straight.
"Yes, sir. I understand."

 
          
 
Green shrugged. "Come on, then. I’ll
fetch you a rifle. I just hope to God you're better at shcxning Indians than
you are at dancing with them."

 
          
 
As Ritshard walked past.
Willow
could see the gleam in his eyes, as if he'd
just proven something to the world, and himself.

 
          
 
She turned to Trawis. "He did well today?"

 
          
 
Trawis grinned outright now. "Wal, now, I
reckon with a little work, he'll come around. He's a-fixing ter be more than he
figgers he can. Just you be careful the next couple of days, Willow. Them
Sioux, they might go fer the hosses, but they'd sure as hell make a try fer ye.
If'n they do, it'll mean a fight to get ye back, understand?"

 
          
 
"Why fight for me?"

 
          
 
Trawis patted her shoulder. " 'Cause yer
one of us." Then he walked out to supervise the forting up.

 
          
 
Baptiste touched a finger to the brim of his
hat before he followed the hunter.

 
          
 
One of them? She sighed as she began
collecting wood, careful to stay within the bounds of the camp. Trudeau was
watching her as he worked, stripping her with his eyes. She glared back at him,
and spat contemptuously.

 
          
 
"No, Trawis. I am Dukurika. I can never
be anything else." The day would come when she would leave them. She hoped
that it would not hurt Ritshard or Trawis. But they would forget. Such was the
nature of men: red or white.

 
          
 
In the meantime, she would stay on the boat.
Given a choice, she'd take thieving Pawnee over cut-throat Sioux any day.

 
          
 
When the night skies finaJy darkened, and
ominous silence settled on the camp, Rit hard walked over to her fire, his new
rifle in hand. He seated himself on a blanket, staring wearily at the flames
before inspecting the stew she'd set to boil over the coals.

 
          
 
"Long day," he said, a faint smile
playing on his lips. He turned brown eyes on her. The intimate inquisitiveness
of his look brought a tingle to her heart.

 
          
 
"You are lucky the Sioux didn't kill you
and cut yer head off." Then she smiled, and for a long moment their eyes
held.

 
          
 
"But they didn't. It's so different,
Willow. Not
Boston
at all."

 
          
 
"
Boston
. Always
Boston
. Tell me of this place."

 
          
 
He rubbed his face, the tenuous intimacy gone.
"
Willow
, sometimes things must be lived to be understood."
He gestured around. ''This is your country. Boston, well, it's like a
completely different world. So many people, endless buildings and paved streets.
Those words don't mean anything to you, do they? I can't explain it any more
than you could have explained this to me a year ago."