“Hush, Emala.” Samuel thoughtfully regarded Red Fox. “Let me see if I understand. You want us to live as you do? In a lodge in your village? And wear animal hides? And hunt buffalo and whatnot?”
“And skin them, yes. And go on raids and lift the scalps of our enemies. Can you think of a better life?”
Nate gave Samuel a sharp look to warn him not to say anything that would antagonize the Pawnees.
“That life is fine for you and yours, but not so fine for me and mine.”
“Sorry?”
“I tilled the soil back on the plantation. I didn’t hunt or fish or any of that. If it wasn’t for Nate and his wife, we’d have long since starved.”
“Then you will come live with us?”
“Aren’t you payin’ attention? I thank you for the invite. I truly do. But I’d make a terrible Indian.” Samuel shook his head. “We’re bound for King Valley. I can’t wait to get there. To hear Nate describe it, it’s heaven on earth.”
Nate hadn’t made any such claim. He was about to set them straight when a feeling came over him, a feeling that they were being watched. Shifting, he stared beyond the ring of firelight into the dark. It could be anything, he told himself. A bear. Deer. A coyote or a wolf. Or just his imagination.
“Is something wrong, Grizzly Killer?” Red Fox asked.
“For a second there I thought—” Nate caught himself. He didn’t want to come across as silly. “It’s nothing.”
The Pawnee children were soon made to turn in, and their mothers shortly followed. The Worths started yawning about ten, and Emala excused herself and her offspring. That left the men and Winona. Red Fox stayed up late, plying them with questions about the Shoshones and other tribes and translating for his friend, whose name was Hawk Takes Wing.
It was pushing midnight by Nate’s figuring when Winona announced her eyelids were too heavy for her to stay awake. Samuel turned in after her, and then the two warriors.
That left Nate. He refilled his tin cup with piping hot coffee and sat back. He had agreed to keep watch until three, and then he would wake Winona. As he raised the cup to his lips, that feeling came over him again. The feeling that he was being watched. Puzzled, he gazed about the clearing. All was peaceful.
He hoped it stayed that way.
Chapter Five
The Kings and the Worths rode out the next morning an hour after the sun came up. Usually they were under way at the crack of dawn, but Nate let the others sleep in. They could use the extra rest. More important, so could their mounts. It was a long way from the Mississippi River to the Rocky Mountains—weeks and weeks of travel that took a toll on rider and mount.
The Pawnees were up early. They went about their chores quietly. The children gathered wood and the women got a fire going. Red Fox and Hawk Takes Wing were preparing to ride out in search of buffalo.
“One more kill and we will head back to our village,” Red Fox mentioned. “Our pack animals cannot carry much more meat.”
“I wish you success in your hunt,” Nate said sincerely, and offered his hand in the white fashion.
Red Fox stared at it, then smiled and shook. “I am proud to call Grizzly Killer my friend.”
“Perhaps one day our two families can get together again.”
“I would like that.”
Nate was almost sorry to ride off. He would have enjoyed more of Red Fox’s company. But he was eager to reach the valley he now called home and make sure his son, Zach, and his best friend, Shakespeare McNair, hadn’t gotten into any trouble in his absence. McNair knew better, as old as he was. But Zach was young and rash, and often as not got into hot water without half trying.
Strung out single file, they pushed on. They had been under way only a short while when Nate, who was in the lead, was joined by someone else.
“They sure were nice Injuns,” Emala Worth said.
“You sound surprised.”
“I don’t mind admittin’ I am. I mean, your wife is as sweet a woman as ever I met, and I adore her. But I never figured on liking other Injuns as much as I like that there Red Fox.”
“You’re learning.”
“I am? What, exactly?”
“That it doesn’t matter what color skin a person has. People are people. There are good ones and bad ones of every color. The thing is to savvy enough to tell the difference.”
“You’re awful smart for a man who lives up in the Rocky Mountains,” Emala said.
Nate chuckled. “Anyone who likes the wilderness must be stupid?”
“No, no, I didn’t mean that at all. You’re sure not. You speak as well as Master Justin and Master Frederick ever did. Must come from you bein’ a reader and all.”
“I suppose that has something to do with it.”
“Your wife is awful smart, too. She knows more languages than I have fingers. And she says your son and your girl are the same as the two of you.”
“Nate realized she was trying to make a point. “What are you trying to tell me, Emala?”
“Just this: I don’t want to impose. But I’ve been thinkin’ and I’ve got a favor to ask.”
“You want us to watch Randa and Chickory so you and your husband can go off by yourselves this evening?”
Emala blinked, then snorted, then burst into hearty laughter. “Oh, Mr. King. You are a dreadful tease. Samuel and me haven’t fooled around since we went on the run, and I don’t know as I will again until I have a roof over my head.”
“Then what’s the favor?”
“I’d like to ask if you and your missus would mind teachin’ my girl and my boy learnin’.”
“How much schooling have they had?”
“None.”
Nate nearly drew rein. “None whatsoever?”
“We were slaves, Mr. King. The folks who owned us didn’t allow for no schoolin’. All they cared about was that we tended their cotton fields and did the other work they made us do.” Emala sighed. “I can read, thanks to my ma. She taught me her own self. I tried to teach mine, but they didn’t take to it like I did.”
“And your husband?”
“Samuel can’t read or write a lick. I offered to teach him to read, but he couldn’t be bothered. Said it wouldn’t do him no good.”
“Learning to read opens up whole new worlds,” Nate said. He was thinking of the works of Irving and Cooper and the poetry of Byron that he had on his bookshelf in his cabin.
“Our owners didn’t want us openin’ new worlds. They wanted us to be content with what we had.”
Nate tried to imagine what it must have been like to be lorded over by others, to have no say in one’s own life, to be treated as property instead of as people. “I feel sorry for you, Emala.”
“Goodness. I’m grateful you care, but I don’t want your pity. I doubt Samuel does, either.”
“You’ve lived a hard life.”
“So? Except for the rich, who doesn’t? I’m not complain’, mind you. I won’t shed tears over who I am or where I was born. I had no say in that and it does no good to whine over things that are.”
“I agree.”
“But now I can do as I please, and it pleases me to try to better my children. What do you say? Will you do
