Winona quietly rose from under the blankets so as not to awaken her husband. She stretched, then walked toward the charred embers, smoothing her dress. She didn’t look up until she was almost there.
Peleg Harrod was missing.
Winona gazed about the clearing. Everyone else was still asleep. But Harrod’s blankets were thrown back, and he was gone. She figured he had risen and gone off to wash up in the Platte. Kneeling, she set to rekindling the fire. Chickory let out a snore, and she grinned. Over the past weeks she had grown quite fond of the Worths. It had been her idea to have Nate ask them if they would like to settle in King Valley. Nate had proven reluctant, and she had probed to find out why.
“What is wrong, Husband? You do not want them to live near us because they are black?”
Nate had stiffened in indignation. “If I were that way, would I have married you?”
“I am red, or so your people say, and not black.”
“Don’t quibble. If you honestly and truly think that I judge people by the color of their skin, say so now and I’ll go off and live by myself.”
Winona had arched an eyebrow. “You are making more of this than it deserves.”
“Not when you just called me a bigot, I’m not.”
“Never in a million winters would I think that,” Winona had assured him. Placing her hand on his broad chest, she had smiled up into his troubled eyes. “I love you more than I love life. I am sorry if I have hurt your feelings.”
“That’s better.”
“So tell me why you do not want them to come to our valley? What reason could you have? It is not as if we want for space. There are three cabins and a lodge in a valley that is”—Winona had paused, trying to remember what he told her once—“big enough for a thousand families.”
“One more might not seem like a lot to you,” Nate had responded, “but when we first moved there, the idea was to get off by ourselves. We were too near the Oregon Trail, where we lived before. Too near the foothills.”
“I remember.” It had seemed to Winona as if strangers happened by every time she turned around.
“It was supposed to be only us and Zach and Lou and Shakespeare and Blue Water Woman. Then the Nansusequas showed up and you were too kindhearted to turn them away.”
“That was your decision, not mine,” Winona corrected. “You are the one with the kind heart, although you try to hide that you have one.”
Nate ignored her comment. “Now you’ve invited the Worths. At the rate we’re going, we’ll have us our very own city in no time.”
“Oh, Husband.” Winona had laughed heartily. “I understand, though. We will let the Worths stay, but no one else after them. Agreed?”
Nate had nodded and the matter was settled.
Now, as Winona poked a stick at the embers and thin wisps of smoke rose into the crisp morning air, she thought of how surprised her son and their friends the Nansusequas would be. New settlers were one thing; blacks were quite another. The Worths were so unlike her people and the whites, and yet so much like them, too. She looked forward to many a day spent in Emala’s company, learning all there was to learn about her kind.
One of the horses nickered, and Winona glanced up.
Harrod was coming back but not from the direction of the river. He was coming from the east, which struck Winona as strange. He saw her at the same instant she saw him, and he stopped short as if in surprise. Then, wearing his perpetual smile, he strolled into the clearing.
“Good morning, Mrs. King. You’re up awful early this fine morning. The sun hasn’t risen yet.”
“The same could be said of you.”
“Oh, I’ve always been an early riser,” Harrod said. #8220;I was raised on a farm, and we had to be up and out at the crack of dawn to milk the cows and collect chicken eggs and such.”
Bending to puff on a red ember, Winona asked, “See anything on your walk?”
“Just the usual. A few deer. A few birds.” Harrod coughed. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” When the flames were high enough to suit her, Winona picked up the coffeepot and shook it. “Empty. I need to make more. My husband is unable to start his day without a cup or two.”
“I’m the same way.” Harrod cradled his rifle. “How about if I walk with you? Just in case.”
“In case what?”
“In case a griz happens by. Or a cougar. Or a pack of wolves.” Harrod grinned. “Then there are the two- legged kind who wear paint and like to lift hair.”
“I have these,” Winona said, patting the flintlocks tucked under the leather belt she wore. “But you may come with me if you wish.” She went and got her own rifle.
“You sure are a cautious soul.”
“I take that as a compliment, Mr. Harrod. My husband likes to say that the more cautious we are, the longer we live.”
“Smart gent, that man of yours.”
“I have always thought so, yes.”
They were passing through a stand of cottonwoods, the trunks pale in the predawn light. Here and there were a few willows and oaks.
Winona breathed deep and admired the pink tinge on the eastern horizon.
“May I ask you a question, Mrs. King?”
“So long as it is not personal.”
“I was just wondering how it is that you chose to live with a white man when you likely could have had your pick of any buck in your tribe?”
Winona stopped and looked at him. “In the first place, I said no personal questions. But for your information, I married my husband because I love him. In the second place, I will thank you not to call the men of my tribe ‘bucks.’ ”
“What’s wrong? Whites do it all the time.”
“It is like calling me a squaw.”
Harrod shrugged, then smiled. “If I stepped over the line, I’m right sorry. I always aim to please.”
Winona walked on. Once again that feeling of distrust came over her. But other than ask a question he had no business asking, he had done nothing wrong. His next comment startled her.
“You don’t like me very much.”
“What gives you that idea?”
“It’s hard to put into words. Let’s say I feel it in my bones. But I don’t see why. I’ve always held females in high respect. Even red ones.”
“What is that white saying? Oh, yes. You keep putting your foot in your mouth.”
Harrod scratched his chin and studied her, more amused than offended. “The last thing I want is to have you upset with me. I’m grateful to your husband for letting me tag along. It gets lonesome crossing the prairie alone.”
Winona said nothing. She was amazed he had sensed her feelings. She wondered whether she had given them away somehow.
“It’s safer for me, traveling with you. I don’t mind admitting that’s one of the reasons I asked. But if you’re against it for some reason, say so now and I’ll go my own way.”
For one of the few times in her life, Winona went against her better judgment. “Where you got these notions from, I will never know. My husband invited you, so you are welcome to ride with us for as long as you like.”
“Thank you, ma’am. You’re about the sweetest gal I’ve ever come across, and I mean that sincerely.”
“Be careful not to overdo it.”
Harrod laughed. “Don’t you beat all. But don’t worry, I’ll try not to praise you if I can help it.”
The trees thinned and the ribbon of blue that was the Platte spread before them. Winona moved down the bank and knelt. She removed the top of the coffeepot and dipped the pot in the river. The water was pleasantly cool. She noticed the old frontiersman studying her again. “What?”
“I was just wondering.”
“About?”
