“No, sir. I’m going to run the Rolling C Ranch.”
Trapper looked at Emery and whispered, “I have no doubt she will.”
Chapter 9
Trapper walked out of the trading post fully aware that the girls were imitating every move he made. They took long steps. Stuck their thumbs in their waistbands. Lifted their hats forward to shade their eyes.
He leaned close to Emery. “I have my army.” He grinned. “They may be small, but I wouldn’t trade them for gunslingers.”
When they got to the wagon, each one insisted on swinging their now-free legs into the wagon. Five tried twice and almost made it the second time before she fell back into Trapper’s waiting arms.
He tossed her inside, then touched two fingers to his hat in a salute. Number Five smiled and did the same. “Thanks, Tapper.”
When Number Three climbed in, her short, auburn hair was now free of the ugly wool cap. “I started something, didn’t I?”
“Yeah,” he answered.
“What do you think the colonel will say about this? Your father’s bound to notice.”
“I doubt it. He doesn’t spend much time with us. Now and then he looks like he’s counting us, as if to make sure we’re all there or maybe he forgets how many daughters he has.”
“He remembers the number and each of you. He’s probably just making sure you’re all there.” Trapper had no doubt he’d counted to five a thousand times already.
He moved the wagon near the corral, and everyone seemed to have an opinion about which horses they should buy. Most looked worthless. Five wanted only white ones and Four wanted all the ones that looked like they were wearing socks.
One, Two, and Three climbed over the fence, laughing at how easy it was to do in Levi’s. They walked among the horses and chose three.
Trapper joined them and checked each horse’s teeth, legs, and eyes. He ran his hand from mane to tail and back again.
Each girl did the same.
“Pick your own mount, ladies. You’ll be the one taking care of them.”
Once they’d picked, Trapper took the time to show each girl how to saddle her horse. None of the mares were as big or would be as fast as his Midnight, but Trapper figured they’d do.
While the girls rode their horses around the corral, Trapper noticed the old drunk from the trading post was finally out in the sun.
“You picked my three best horses. Damn it.”
“I didn’t, they did,” Trapper answered.
“I didn’t sell you the saddles. You just going to take them? They are worth as much as the horses.”
“I’ll give you a twenty for the three.”
“Twenty-five.”
“Twenty. The girls can ride bareback to the next trading post if you don’t take the price.”
“Damn. You’re as tough to trade with as your daughter, mister.”
Trapper didn’t correct the old goat.
A few minutes later he told One to drive the wagon, and he rode ahead with Two and Three traveling beside him.
They were not as skilled as Number One at riding, but both could handle their mounts. As the miles passed, he told them how to watch for trouble. How to move leaving fewest footprints on the land. He said they had to feel trouble in their gut before their brains.
As the day aged, he traded places with One and let her ride with her sisters. The only rule was to stay in sight of the wagon, and the three ladies pushed that limit to the edge.
Before sundown they camped.
Emery and the two little ones made biscuits that looked like rabbits as Trapper made sure the older three took proper care of their horses. When he came back to camp, he whispered to Emery that he’d seen Number Three smile twice that day.
The old wool hat was retired to become the cornhusk dolls’ bed.
After supper all the little ladies turned in. Trapper said he’d wake up One at midnight so he could sleep for a few hours.
She nodded. He swore she’d matured these last two weeks. No bedtime stories or songs tonight; the girls were all tired.
Trapper kept the fire low even though the wind was kicking up from the north. He figured if the four riders were looking for them, they would have already been traveling back. Once they passed the trading post, it wouldn’t take long for them to catch up.
Maybe not tonight, but Trapper guessed he’d be seeing them sometime tomorrow. Of course, it was just as likely that the men were simply riding fast toward Jefferson, but Trapper felt they were coming. Gut, not brains.
The next morning he was on edge. The wind was strong, with a bit of snow blowing like sand. All the girls stayed in the back of the wagon except Number One. She and Emery took turns riding shotgun.
By midafternoon the snow increased but still blew sideways from the north. The heavy clouds seemed to boil above them, promising a storm. Trapper ordered everyone inside the wagon as he drove, fighting to see the trail on a ground turning white.
Finally, before dark, he found a ravine about a quarter mile from the trail. It wasn’t much deeper than the wagon was tall, but it would break most of the wind.
Though not perfect, he took the stop knowing that the horses needed rest. His three riders jumped out of the wagon and helped him with the horses. They walked them to the deepest part of the wide ditch. It was too rocky for the wagon, but here the animals were out of the wind, and they found a spot to form a corral.
When they got back, all the girls helped to push the wagon into a pocket in the ravine, taller and longer than the wagon. Trapper chopped down a few branches and small trees to block the one side of wagon that was exposed. The barrier might not keep out all the wind, but it would help.
Emery had a supper of apples and biscuits with leftover bacon sitting out on a tiny table made of bags. They
