Zach laughed happily. “Lou will get her fresh meat now.” He started to go in after it, then stopped. He mustn’t violate the cardinal rule of survival in the wilds: always reload after he shot. His pa had ingrained that into him from the day he was old enough to hold a gun. Methodically, he opened his powder horn and poured the proper amount down the barrel. From his ammo pouch he took a bullet and wrapped it in a patch, then slid the ramrod from its housing and tamped the ball and patch down the barrel.
The wolf sat and watched.
“You remember me doing this all the time, don’t you?” Zach had never been much of a talker; Lou was always saying how he never gabbed enough. But he’d always talked to Blaze. “Why did you shy like that when I was getting set to shoot?” As he recalled, Blaze had gotten used to guns. Even the blast wouldn’t spook him.
Zach took a stride to go in after the doe and the wolf took a limping step to follow. It was favoring its left front leg. On a sudden hunch, Zach stopped and hunkered. “Let me have a gander at that, boy.” The wolf didn’t snarl or bare its teeth as he gently moved his hand up and down. Where the leg widened into the body he found thick scar tissue. He moved the hair, and frowned. The scar was perfectly round.
“Now I savvy. You were shot.”
There was more scar tissue under the wolf’s belly. An inch or so higher, and the wolf’s guts would have come spilling out.
“You were lucky.”
The wolf whined and licked him.
Zach gazed into its eyes and felt his throat tighten and his eyes begin to mist. “It is you, Blaze.” He hugged the wolf close, and it didn’t resist. “Why don’t you stick around awhile this time?”
They were so near the cabin that Zach dragged the doe out, threw it over the dun, and walked back leading the horse by the reins with Blaze at his side. He kept glancing at him. He couldn’t believe Blaze was really there.
“You’ve missed a lot, old fella. My pa and ma have a cabin across the lake, and my nuisance of a sister is a lot older and has a beau, if you can believe it.”
The wolf padded along quietly. “Shakespeare McNair is still around. He’s as old as you, only in people years, but he’s held up better. I bet he’ll remember you. The two of you always got along pretty well.”
The wolf’s shoulder brushed Zach’s leg.
“Do you remember when I found you? In the snow and the cold? You were all alone in the world. We were friends for a good long while, until you ran off to find a mate.” Zach stopped and looked down and the wolf stopped and looked up. “I never did understand why you had to go. Pa explained, but I was young.” He smiled. “I understand now, though. I have a mate of my own.”
Lou was waiting by the corner of the cabin, her arms folded across her bosom. “You didn’t have to go far,” she said as they emerged from the greenery. “I heard the shot.”
Zach motioned at the doe. “All the fresh meat your little heart can desire.”
“That animal is still with you, I see.”
“He’s my friend and you should make friends with him, too. He might be here awhile.”
“Men,” Lou said.
Chapter Thirteen
Raven On The Ground and the other three Crow maidens followed the white man known as Geist into the wooden lodge. She smiled to be polite and to hide how nervous she was. She had never been in the company of white men before, save for the few times whites had visited her village and once when Chases Rabbits brought Grizzly Killer to meet her. She liked Grizzly Killer. He was an adopted Shoshone and much like an Indian. He wasn’t strange, like other whites.
The man called Geist was smiling and being friendly, but he was strange, too. He talked too fast and he had an odd smell, and his smile didn’t touch his eyes.
Raven On The Ground definitely didn’t like the white called Dryfus. The very first time he looked at her, he ran his gaze down her body in a manner any woman would recognize. It was rude of him, and she did not like rude people. Unfortunately, Dryfus was the only white who knew sign, so she had to put up with him for the time being.
Geist had just finished showing them four small spaces enclosed in wooden walls. In each, blankets had been spread on upraised legs. Their purpose eluded her until Dryfus pointed at one of the areas and raised his hands.
Raven On The Ground was appalled.
Dryfus pointed at each of the other enclosed spaces in turn, and at each of the other women, signing the same thing.
“Can this be?” Spotted Fawn said. “This is where they want us to live?”
“So it seems,” Raven On The Ground said. To make sure, she signed,
Lavender frowned. “I do not like this. Why have they covered the ground with wood? Where do we build a fire? And there is no hole above us for the smoke to go out.”
Flute Girl made it unanimous. “These whites do not know how to treat guests.”
Geist barked words at Dryfus and the latter signed,
Raven On The Ground signed that they would rather live in the kind of lodge they were accustomed to.
Through Dryfus, Geist responded that they would like it here after a while, that sleeping on the blankets on the raised legs was better than sleeping on the ground, and that they didn’t need a fire since the walls would keep them warm.
“The man is touched in the head,” Lavender said. “How will we cook if we cannot make a fire?”
Raven On The Ground put the question to the whites and was amazed when Dryfus signed that the whites would do the cooking for them.
“But I thought they brought us here to cook for them?” Spotted Fawn said.
So did Raven On The Ground. She put the question to Dryfus. He and Geist talked, and Dryfus signed that they could build a fire outside the wooden lodge.
“Only whites would have such empty heads,” Flute Girl said.
“What work do they expect of us?” Lavender wanted to know.
Raven On The Ground signed the query. The answer puzzled her. Dryfus signed that Geist would explain soon, and they both grinned as if it were some sort of joke. Until then, Dryfus signed, they were free to walk about as they pleased. He warned them not to stray too far from the lodge, for their own safety.
“Do they think we cannot take care of ourselves?” Flute Girl asked.
Geist and Dryfus left.
The four women looked at one another, at the wood walls, and at the wood over their heads.
“I am sorry I came,” Lavender said.
“We should not judge them too quickly,” Raven On The Ground advised. “The whites made this place for us thinking we would like it.”
“They should know better,” Spotted Fawn said. “It is like being in a cave made of wood.”
“We know how strange they are, so we should not be surprised,” Raven On The Ground said. “They have befriended our people and put their trust in us, so we should put our trust in them.”
“I cannot sleep in here,” Flute Girl declared. “When it grows dark I will go outside and sleep on the ground.”
“Me, too,” Lavender said.
Raven On The Ground was tempted to do the same. To take their mind off the shock of their dwelling, she proposed that they go to the trading post and see all the wonderful goods the whites had brought.
“That is one thing the whites know how to do,” Flute Girl said. “They know how to make the money they love
