Inside the coach, all was dark. Orrin removed his hat and leaned his head back against the cushion. In that way, he could doze fitfully, jarred into wakefulness by getting a sharp rap on the skull when the stage passed a bad bump.
After a long time of endless bumping, jolting, and crackings of the whip, a bit of light flickered across his vision. He opened his eyes and, lifting the corner of the curtain, peered out. They had come to a settlement, and only a minute or two later the stage pulled up before a low-roofed building of logs.
The door opened and the stage driver said, 'Grub on the table! Better eat up!' Kyle Gavin got down and turned to offer his hand to the ladies, but the two other men pushed by him and stumbled toward the door.
Exasperated, he started to speak, but Orrin spoke first. 'Let them go. It isn't worth the trouble.' He waited until both women had been helped to the ground, then said, 'Please, let me apologize. Western men are usually thoughtful of womenfolk.' 'Thank you, young man,' the older woman said.
'I live west. I know what the men are like. Those two, they're trouble. I seen it when they got on.' Orrin escorted the two women to the one table, and several men promptly got to their feet, plates in hand. 'Set here, ma'am,' one of them said.
One of the others turned toward a harried man standing over a stove. 'Joe? We've a couple of ladies.' 'Yes, sir! Ma'am! Be right there.' Orrin glanced around the room. Several wagons were pulled up outside and at least three saddle horses. He saw no one whom he knew, but that was expected, for this was new country to him. Yet he searched the faces of the men. Some would be going on to Pembina or Fort Garry, and he badly needed at least two good men.
One was a short, stocky man with a thick neck and a bristle of tight blond curly hair atop his head. There was a deep dentlike scar under his cheekbone. He was one of those who had arisen quickly when he saw the women. He stood to one side now, plate in hand.
'How's the food?' Orrin asked.
The short man threw him a quick, measuring glance. 'I've et worse. Matter of fact, it ain't bad.' 'Cowhand?' Shorty shrugged. 'Whatever it takes to get the coon. I been a cowhand. I been a timber stiff, too, an' I've driven freight here and there.' 'At Pembina or maybe Fort Garry, I'll need a couple of men. A couple who can handle cattle, drive a team, and make a fight if that's necessary.' 'Where you goin'?' 'West, through the mountains. They call it British Columbia. I'll pay thirty a month, and the grub's good.' Shorty finished his food. 'If you're eatin', you better get up there,' he advised.
'They don't set no second table.' Orrin Sackett moved up to the table and found a place near the girl who was traveling with them.
Passing her a platter of beans and rice, he said, 'If there is anything I can do, you have only to ask.' 'Thank you.' As she did not seem disposed to talk, he said nothing more but finished his eating and went outside. The two men with rifles were standing near the stage in deep conversation with a third man, pants tucked into his boots, a battered hat pulled low so little of his face could be seen.
Kyle Gavin strolled over and stood near.
'Those men,' Gavin commented, 'something about them worries me.' 'It's the clothes,' Orrin replied.
'The men don't look like they belonged in them.' 'You mean a disguise?' Orrin shrugged. 'Maybe, or maybe just trying to fit into the country.' Then he added, 'They
andle the rifles like they were used to them, though.' The stage rolled on, and again Orrin slept fitfully. Where were Tell and Tyrel? The letter received in St. Paul had stated only that their route would be up the valley of the James, and if they reached the Turtle Mountains first, they would proceed westward, leaving some indication behind.
They were going into wild country, a land unknown to them. Even now, they would be somewhere in Dakota, the land of the Sioux, a fierce, conquering people who had moved westward from their homeland along the Wisconsin-Minnesota boarder to conquer all of North and South Dakota, much of Montana, Wyoming, and Nebraska, an area larger than the empire of Charlemagne.
This land through which they traveled was that which divided the waters flowing south toward the Gulf of Mexico from those flowing north toward Hudson's Bay.
There were many lakes, for this was the fabled 'land of the sky-blue water,' and soon they would be descending into the valley of the Red River of the north.
Orrin awakened suddenly, feeling a head on his shoulder. It was the young lady, who had fallen asleep and gradually let her head fall on his convenient shoulder. He held very still, not wishing to disturb her.
The coach was very dark inside, and he could see little but the gleam of light on the rifle barrels and light where the coach lamps let a glow in through a crack in the curtains. All the rest seemed asleep.
He was about to doze once more when he heard a drum of hoofs on the road behind them. Someone, a fast rider, was overtaking the coach. Carefully, he put his fingers on the butt of his six-shooter, listening.
He heard the rider come alongside and lifted the corner of the curtain but could see nothing, as the rider had already passed too far forward. The stage slowed, and he could hear conversation between the rider and the driver but could distinguish no words.
After a moment, he heard the rider go on, listened to the fading sound of hoof beats, but the stage continued at the slower pace.
A long time later, daylight began filtering through the curtains, and suddenly the girl beside him awakened. She sat up with a start, embarrassed.
'Oh! Oh, I am so sorry!' She spoke softly so as not to disturb the others. 'I had no idea!' 'Please do not worry about it, ma'am,' Orrin said. 'My shoulder's never been put to better purpose.' She tucked away a wisp of hair. Her eyes were brown, and her hair, which was thick and lovely, was a kind of reddish-brown. He suddenly decided that was the best shade for hair, quite the most attractive he'd seen.
He straightened his cravat and longed for a shave. The stubble must be showing. He touched his cheek. Yes, it was. He touched his carefully trimmed black moustache.
Kyle Gavin was awake and watching him with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Orrin flushed.
He thought again of the short, blond man he had seen at the first stage stop. He looked to be a good man, and it might be hard to find men with all this Riel affair muddying up the waters.
Shorty had looked like the kind who would finish anything he started, and that was the kind of man they would need.
Orrin looked over at Gavin. 'What about this Riel affair? What's going to happen?' 'Your guess is as good as mine. The Canadians are sending an army out, but that country north of the lakes is very rugged. We've heard some soldiers were lost. Forty of them, according to one story.' 'If Riel wanted to make a fight of it,' Orrin suggested, 'he could defend some of the narrow rivers through which the army must come. Certainly, with all the woodsmen he would have at his command, that would be simple enough.' 'That isn't my understanding,' Gavin said. 'I was under the impression he wished only to establish a temporary government until the Canadians could take over. But no matter what, we're arriving at a bad time. You, especially, if you want to get men or supplies. What supplies Riel doesn't have, the army will need. You'd better move fast.' 'You'll find no men in Fort Garry'--one of the other men spoke up suddenly--'nor any supplies, either. They won't welcome strangers.' 'Then you're arriving at a bad time,' Orrin suggested, smiling, 'aren't you?' The man stared at him. 'Maybe it'll be a bad time for you. I've got friends.' Orrin smiled. 'Yes,' he said gently, 'I suppose everyone has one or two.'
Chapter VII
By the evening of the second day, the stage rolled up to a stockade near the Ottertail River.
Orrin stepped down and stretched, then extended a hand to the young lady and, after her, to the older woman.
'It isn't much of a place,' Orrin said, 'but let me look around. I will see what can be found.' 'Not much,' Gavin admitted. 'Last time I was here, it was a good deal more comfortable to sleep in the haymow than inside.' 'And the mosquitoes?' 'They'll find you either place. They call this place Pomme-de-Terre, but I can think of several other names for it. Tomorrow we should reach Abercrombie.' 'Are there accommodations at the fort?' 'No, but there is in McCauleyville. A chap named Nolan has a fairly decent hotel there.' 'And the boat?' 'Probably down river from there.' Gavin was watching the two men with rifles. They had gone into the fort at once and disappeared behind some buildings. It was obvious they knew where they were going and what they were about.
Inside the fort, the man behind the bar shook his bald head and rubbed the back of his hand across a
