“No ‘could be’ about it,” Wesley said. “So I won’t hold you to account
Cranston went to say something, but Olan suddenly leaned over and punched his arm.
“Not a word, you infant!”
Wesley lowered the Kentucky slightly. “I admit this has been rough on all of us. But it’s either push hard now or chase the darkies all the way to the Rocky Mountains.”
“That could take weeks,” Olan said.
“We sure as hell don’t want that,” Bromley remarked.
“Then quit your bellyaching. The next time you—” Wesley stopped in midsentence.
The reason was Trumbo, who had raised a big arm and was pointing to the west. “Look yonder! Is that what I think it is?”
The sun was setting. Only the crown had yet to slip into the nether realm of impending night. And there, barely distinguishable against the backsplash of yellow and pink, was a tiny finger of orange.
“A campfire, you reckon?”
Wesley sniffed like a bloodhound trying to pick up a scent. “Wood smoke. They must have stopped for some reason.”
“Everyone makes mistakes,” Olan said.
“The mountain man hasn’t yet. So let’s not put the cart before the horse. Maybe it’s someone else. A lot of folks cross the prairie this time of year. Or it could be redskins.”
“We should wait until midnight, when all of them will most likely be asleep, and sneak up on them,” Cranston suggested.
“All seven of us?” Wesley scoffed. “Sneak up on a mountain man without him hearing us?”
“You said it might not be him.”
Bromley said, “We can be quiet as mice when we need to be.”
“But can you be
“That ain’t possible.”
“It is if you know how.” Wesley regarded each of them in turn. “Do any of you have any notion what kind of man we’re up against? I’m not talking about the slaves. They don’t have the brains God gave a squirrel, and their senses are as dull as a turnip’s. I’m talking about the mountain man.”
“You said it might not be him,” Cranston repeated.
“Why all this fuss over one man?” Olan threw in. “He puts his britches on one leg at a time just like the rest of us.”
“I knew you didn’t savvy,” Wesley said. “But let me see if I can make it clear.” He lowered the Kentucky. “Mountain men aren’t like you or even me. They’re part white, part Injun, and part animal—”
“Part animal?” Cranston laughed and slapped his leg. “Mister, I might be young but I wasn’t hatched yesterday.”
“When I say part animal I mean just that, boy. They’ve lived among the wild things so long that they become part wild themselves. This Nate King killed one of the toughest men I knew, and he did it without hardly batting an eye. So, as good as I am in the woods, I’m not taking him lightly. You’d be wise to do the same, or the coyotes and buzzards will thank you for the meal.”
“You really think he’s as tough as all that?” Olan asked.
“I do,” Wesley confirmed. “But don’t fret. Every animal and every man has a weakness. Every single one. Weaknesses a hunter can take advantage of.” He motioned at the woodland. “Take deer, for instance. All a hunter has to know is when they like to come out to graze and drink, and he has them.”
“This mountain man must have a weakness, then,” Olan said. He sarcastically added, “But after the way you built him up, that don’t seem possible.”
“His weakness rides next to him during the day and sleeps next to him at night.”
Olan indulged in a vicious smile. “I take it you’re talking about his woman.”
Wesley nodded. “Our mountain man doesn’t know it yet, but that squaw of his will be his undoing.”
Nate King had to hand it to Red Fox. The Pawnee was as friendly as a Shoshone and a natural-born storyteller.
Red Fox had been entertaining them with tales of the Pawnee way of life. He told about the time his people and the Crows fought a great battle and how he counted his first coup by running up to a Crow warrior and striking the Crow across the temple. “I was filled with pride that night. I thought counting coup was everything.”
Nate sympathized. His son was once the same way. Zach had lived for battle, for counting the most coup of any Shoshone ever. Nate lost count of the number of times it nearly cost Zach his life. He was relieved beyond measure when Zach married and settled down.
“A man changes as he grows,” Red Fox was saying. “When he is young, his blood is hot and he wants only to prove his manhood. When he is older, he sees more worth in helping others than in taking their lives. Among my people, the greatest leaders are those who think of the welfare of all.”
“A wise sentiment,” Winona said. “It is the same among mine.”
Nate had been struck by the many beliefs different tribes shared, tribes that otherwise were always at war with one another. But whites were no better; their governments delighted in making peace treaties that they then broke to justify going to war.
“My people in the South don’t have leaders,” Samuel Worth commented. “Not the way you two do.”
“How can you say that?” Emala took exception. “Brother Simon held ser vices every Sunday, and Manday was an overseer.”
“Overseers are picked by the whites to keep the rest of us blacks down. That’s not bein’ a leader. That’s takin’ a whip to the backs of those who don’t work hard enough to suit you.”
“There’s still Brother Simon.”
“He was a windbag. He had no schoolin’. He just took to callin’ himself Brother and carryin’ around a Bible, and the next thing, folks looked up to him as the black Moses.”
“The things that come out of your mouth, Samuel Worth.”
Nate nipped their spat in the bud by saying, “There has been talk of freeing all the slaves one day soon. The state where I was born, New York, has already outlawed slavery.”
“Many winters ago the French made slaves of some of my people,” Red Fox interjected. “They were carried away and never seen again.”
“Whites have made slaves of red men as well as black men?” Samuel snorted.
“And black women,” Emala said.
Nate felt compelled to mention, “The Romans were white, and they had white slaves. The same with the Greeks. And in north Africa, the Arabs have made slaves of just about everybody for a thousand years or more.”
“It is not right to make a slave of anyone,” Red Fox said.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Samuel responded.
“It is better to kill an enemy than to make a slave of him,” Red Fox went on. “Why put an enemy to work when that is what women are for?”
“Oh, brother,” Randa said.
“Can’t we talk about somethin’ else?” Emala requested. “All this talk of slavery makes me miserable.”
“You’re the reason why not much has been done about it,” Samuel told her. “Too many of our kind stick their heads in the sand.”
Nate began to wonder if the pair ever got along. Since he met them, all they did was quarrel. It was to the point where if Samuel said it was hot, Emala would say it was cold.
Red Fox surprised all of them by turning to Samuel and offering, “Come live with my people. We do not have slaves. We would adopt you and you would be as one of us.”
“You’re joshin’,” Emala said.
“I speak with a straight tongue. The Crows have a black man. They say he brings them strong medicine. If you come live with us, we will have strong medicine, too.”
“If this don’t beat all.”
