Into the Unknown

anyone tell you it’s not safe to be by your lonesome in these parts?”

Only then did it hit me how far I had walked. The trading post was uncomfortably distant. “I warrant the sentries can still see me,” I remarked. “And you,” I added for emphasis.

“Maybe so,” Jess said. “But this far out, they can’t tell who we are.”

The man called Cutter casually placed a hand near the knife close to his buckle.

Chapter Four

“See here,” I said. “What exactly do you want with me?”

“I haven’t rightly decided yet,” Jess Hook said, and stepping up, he dared to press a finger to the canvas and then stared at the paint on the tip of his finger.

Now, if there is one thing I cannot abide, it is to have my canvases touched. I do not get as hot about it when the paint has dried, but when the paint is fresh, the slightest contact causes a smudge or smear I must work diligently to correct. Accordingly, without any consideration for the consequences, I smacked his arm away, saying, “Don’t do that!”

Jess Hook looked at me in amazement. “Did you see that, boys?” he said to his companions. “Did you see what this fancy pants just did?”

“I sure did, brother,” Jordy Hook said. “Some folks don’t have no more brains than a tree stump.”

Cutter’s hand slid to the knife and wrapped around the hilt. “Want me to gut him for you, Jess?”

I took a step back, my brush in one hand, the palette in the other. “Enough of this childish talk,” I gruffly declared. “I am engaged in serious work, and I will not be interrupted.”

“Is that a fact?” Jess Hook smirked. “Mister, I don’t know about where you come from, but in these parts, when you hit someone, it can be worth your teeth, or more.”

“I will not be threatened,” I said.

“Then you shouldn’t treat folks the way you do,” Jess Hook said. He lowered a hand to a pistol, and his manner became icy. “I have decided I don’t like you much.”

“Let’s be reasonable,” I said, seeking to make amends. “We are grown men, after all. You go your way and leave me to my work.”

“You don’t listen too good,” Jess Hook said. “We are of no account to you, is that it?”

“I do not take your meaning.”

Jess Hook poked me in the chest. “You are one of those who reckons he’s better’n everyone else. I’ve met your kind before, and there’s only one way to treat snobs like you.”

“Now see here,” I began, but got no further. They had spread out to surround me. It was ominous in the extreme.

“What do you say, boys?” Jess Hook said. “Should we whittle on him to teach him some respect?”

“I want one of his ears to add to my collection,” Jordy said.

“You collect ears?” I blurted in horror.

“And other body parts.” Jordy grinned and patted the possibles bag slanted across his chest. “My favorite is the part I took off a Blackfoot once. Want to see?”

“Hush, you infant!” Jess snapped. “He looks down his nose at us and you want to show him your collection?”

“I did no such thing,” I said, but they ignored me. I entertained the idea that this was a joke on their part, a poor joke, it is true, but in keeping with the coarse humor for which frontiersmen are generally known. Then Cutter drew his knife and held it so the blade gleamed in the sun.

“Enough jawing. Let’s cart him off where we can have our fun in private. I want to cut nice and slow so—” He gazed past me and blinked.

“What is it?” Jeff Hook said, turning.

Someone else had ridden up. A young man, bronzed by the sun to where he could pass for an Indian. On closer scrutiny, I saw he was an Indian, in part anyway; his green eyes betrayed the truth. Raven black hair hung loose to his broad shoulders, framing handsome features. His horse was a fine bay. I assumed he was an acquaintance of theirs until Jess Hook addressed him.

“Didn’t that pa of yours teach you better than to sneak up on folks, breed?”

The young man had a Hawken rifle in the crook of his left elbow. Almost casually, he pointed it at the Hook brothers and said, “I can’t help it if your ears don’t work.”

“This is a private matter,” Jess Hook said.

“Be on your way if you know what is good for you,” Jordy Hook angrily added.

The young man was not intimidated. Looking at me, he said, “The problem with fleas is that they come in all shapes and sizes. I can shoo these off if you want me to.”

I was slow to catch on that he was offering to help me, then I hastily replied, “Yes. Please. I would be in your debt.”

Cutter sidled to one side. He had his rifle in both hands, and was inching it up.

“Stupid is as stupid does,” the young man told him.

A strange grin curled Cutter’s lips, and he let his arms drop. “You have a point. When it happens, I want to pick the time and place.”

“Don’t hold off on my account.”

Jess Hook’s jaw muscles twitched. “Damn you. We won’t forget you butting in like this.”

“I think we can take him!” Jordy declared. “Say the word, brother, and I’ll blow this breed to hell and back.”

“What you will do,” Jess said, “is forget about him and head for Bent’s Fort.”

“But we can take him!” Jordy insisted.

At that, Jess took a step and gave his brother a violent push, shoving Jordy so hard he stumbled and nearly fell. “When I tell you to do something, little brother, you damn well better do it.”

I thought Jordy would take a swing at him. But the younger sibling merely clenched his fists and stalked in a sulk to his horse. He swung up and without a backward glance, gigged his animal toward the trading post.

Cutter was next to wheel and leave. “Don’t get a crick in your neck from looking over your shoulder,” he taunted.

Jess Hook smiled. “You made a mistake today, boy.”

“I have made them before,” the young man said.

“Until we meet again.” Jess Hook nodded and walked off.

The young man raised his reins to depart, but I barred his way, saying, “I want to thank you for your assistance. There is no telling what they would have done if you had not shown up.”

“Not all rabid wolves have four legs,” the young man said, and again went to leave.

“Hold on. Must you go?” I asked. “I would like to make your acquaintance.” I was intensely curious as to who he was, and why he had served as my protector.

“Then you are a rarity, mister,” he replied. “Most whites shun halfbreeds as they would lepers.”

“I am not a bigot.” I indicated my easel. “I have some small skill as an artist, and to an artist all hues are of equal worth.”

“Would that all men were artists,” the young man said rather wistfully. He jabbed his heels and rode around me toward Bent’s. “Maybe we will meet again.”

“I hope so!” I called after him, but he gave no heed. I was left alone with my paints and my thoughts. No sooner did I resume painting, however, when another pair of riders came galloping in my direction from Bent’s Fort. So much for my being alone. They passed the three hardcases and then my rescuer, and were wearing scowls when they came to a stop.

“What in God’s name do you think you were doing?” Augustus Trevor lit into me without dismounting. “It is a good thing I ran into Billingsley. You should not be out here alone.”

I did not respond.