“I wouldn’t think there are enough settlers for you to make a go of it.”
“There aren’t. But I’m close enough to the Oregon Trail that wagon trains will stop. And then there are the Indians. I hope to trade with all the tribes.”
“Really?” Nate said.
Toad’s eyes grew defensive. “Is it me, or do you not sound too happy about my being here?”
Nate decided to be honest with him. “Some years back another man opened a trading post. He said the same thing you have, that he was only interested in trade. But he stirred up trouble between two of the tribes so he could sell them a lot of rifles.”
“I’m not him,” Toad declared. “Making money is in my blood, you might say. But stirring up a war is a damn stupid way to do business. I aim to be here a good long while, and to do that I have to stay friendly with everyone, white and red alike.”
“I’m happy to hear that.”
“What happened to that other meshuggener?”
“The what?”
“The putz who tried to stir up the war.”
“Someone shot him.”
“You?”
Nate hesitated. “My son.”
Geist had been listening with great interest. “We heard about him, too, at Bent’s. The notorious Zach King. A natural-born killer, they call him. Someone told us it’s because he’s a half-breed.”
Had it not been for Geist’s perpetually friendly smile, Nate would have slugged him. “Who told you that?”
“We forget,” Toad said with a pointed look of his bulging eyes at Geist.
“Not that I believe that nonsense about breeds,” Geist added quickly. “Just because a person has mixed blood doesn’t mean he’s bad.”
“No,” Nate gratefully replied. “It doesn’t.”
“As for my mercantile,” Toad said, “you have my word that we’ll cause no trouble whatsoever.”
“I hope to God that’s true,” Nate King said.
Chapter Five
Nestled in the heart of the Rockies lay a valley ringed by towering mountains over three miles high. Several were capped with the white of snow. Other peaks were the brown of upthrust rock or the red of bare earth.
King Valley, it was called, and at its center was the great blue eye known as King Lake. Lush grass spread south of the lake. To the west, north, and east grew forest as dense and untamed as the day the first man set foot on the North American continent.
Wildlife thrived. Mountain sheep roamed the high crags. Elk bugled in the upper meadows. Deer were everywhere. Mountain lions and wolves helped keep the population in check. Coyotes and bobcats fed on the small game.
Birds were as numerous as the leaves on the trees. Robins, sparrows, jays, and ravens constantly flew about. Out on the lake, ducks, geese, and terns swam and quacked and honked. High above soared the predators of the air, eagles and hawks, and the woods harbored owls.
“It sure is beautiful here, Pa,” Evelyn King said as she stood on the shore and skimmed stones on the lake’s surface. “There are days when I want to pinch myself to be sure I’m not dreaming.”
Nate cared for his daughter deeply. She was headstrong at times, but she had a good heart and a peaceful temperament. She was also very much in love—although she wouldn’t come right out and admit it—with a young Nansusequa. “How is Dega doing these days?”
“Fine, I suppose.”
Nate had been home less than an hour. He had hugged and kissed his wife and talked with their daughter-in- law, who was visiting. Then he had come out to stretch his legs and caught sight of his daughter on her way back from the Nansusequa lodge at the other end of the lake.
“The two of you have been awfully close since that day you went off together.”
“We’re friends, is all.”
“Hard to find diapers for a man my age,” Nate said.
“What would you need a diaper for?”
“I must have been born yesterday.”
Evelyn laughed. About to throw another flat stone, she glanced to the north and said, “Uh-oh. What has him in such a dither?”
Nate heard the thud of hooves and guessed what he would see before he turned, and he was right. Riding hard toward them was his son, Zach. They looked somewhat alike, in that Zach had his father’s green eyes and build, but Zach mostly took after his mother and the Shoshone side of the family. “You might want to go inside.”
“Are you two going to argue again?” Evelyn threw the stone, which skipped several times before sinking. “I might just do that, then. When he’s mad he’s not fun to be around.”
Nate walked to the water, hunkered down, and dipped his hand in. He sipped from his cupped palm and wet his neck. As he was rising, his son arrived in a loud clatter and a flurry of dust.
“It is true what Louisa just told me?” Zach demanded without dismounting.
“Unless she’s taken to lying to you, I would say it was,” Nate replied.
“She said she was visiting Ma when you got home. She said there’s a new trading post in the foothills.”
“They’re calling it a mercantile.”
“I don’t like it, Pa,” Zach said.
“I’m not fond of the idea, either, but it’s there and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
Zach patted one of the pistols tucked under his leather belt. “Yes, there is.”
“Climb down, son,” Nate suggested, and when Zach alighted, Nate draped an arm over his son’s shoulders. “Listen to me. We don’t own these mountains. We can’t go around running people off because we don’t like them or because we object to what they do for a living.”
“We can if what they do causes trouble. The last time we nearly had a war on our hands.”
“Trust me. It’s all I’ve thought about since St. Vrain told me about the new trader.” Nate chose his next words carefully. His son had a tendency to let his feelings get the better of his judgment and was much too quick to resort to violence. “I’ve met the man. He’s given me his word he’ll be fair and decent and won’t ply the Indians with liquor. So long as he abides by his word, we have no right to interfere with his livelihood.”
“Which is a fancy way of saying we twiddle our thumbs and hope for the best.”
Nate lowered his arm and gazed out across the beautiful blue of the lake. Patience was another trait his son had not yet fully mastered. But Nate couldn’t blame him. He, too, felt a special bond with the mountains and the people who lived there. Many of the tribes were their friends. He felt especially protective toward the Shoshones, who had accepted him as one of their own. “We have to give the new trader the benefit of the doubt.”
“You do, maybe,” Zach said.
“The last time you took the law into your own hands, you ended up on trial for your life.”
Zach’s dark features clouded. “I did what was right and you know it. And aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?”
Zach gestured, encompassing their valley and the ring of mountains with a sweep of his arm. “There
“Yet,” Nate interrupted, and was ignored.
“There are no politicians and lawyers to tell us how to live. We’re free to do as we please. Truly and really free, as you’ve impressed on me since I was old enough to understand what being free means.”
Nate didn’t comment. The boy had him there.
“Out here, we live by what
