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Authors: Dusty Richards

Waltzing With Tumbleweeds (11 page)

BOOK: Waltzing With Tumbleweeds
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Red Star held the new dress to her breasts and went to the flap to peek at the horse. She caught sight of the silver stallion’s dish face, small pin ears, and long flowing mane. His delicate nostrils flared as he distrustfully snorted at the camp smells and individuals.

From her discreet position, she could only see the rider’s buckskin clad legs. She dropped to her knees, hoping to see the man’s back after he passed by her.

To her shock, when she looked up, his gaze met her own. Cold as the color of silver coins, his eyes held her for a moment that seemed an eternity before she fell away to be out of his sight.

Shaken, she scrambled to her feet. She admonished herself for acting like a silly child, gawking at a white eyes. He must think she was daft or very bold. She folded her arms over her firm breasts—she had no intention of exposing herself again to him. Seeking absolution, Red Star raised her eyes to the top of the lodge. The Great Spirit must protect her for she had no intentions of becoming a squaw woman. The duration of his stay, she must remain out of his sight.

Karien felt awed. Who was the beautiful woman in the lodge doorway who looked so familiar? He slapped the stallion on the neck for snorting at the people. If Big Man kept acting up, the Indian women might become afraid of him and would not come to trade with them.

“Hello, great chief of the Crow,” Karien shouted as the obvious headman came out in his full headdress. He stood at the end of the open lane of onlookers. Silver-Bear wore a trade blanket shawl and his braids were grey streaked. He made an imposing figure with several more sub-chiefs around him.

“Eyes of Sky,” Chief Silver Bear said. “We have waited long for the yellow haired one to come and trade with our women.”

“Your horses wintered well,” Karien said, knowing that the Crow prized their herds and a compliment was always well accepted.

“If we had colts from that great horse of yours, we would smile.” The chief’s words drew several approving nods from his entourage.

“He is willing,” Karien said as he dismounted. These Crows seemed a very open people. Perhaps all his concerns were unfounded. But where was the woman? He looked over the crowd; there was no sign of her.

“Come Eyes-of-Sky,” Silver-Bear said, holding the tepee flap back for him to enter. “We will smoke to our friendship.”

Karien raised his rifle, without turning, in a signal for Matthew to watch the stock. Then he bent low to enter the council’s chamber. His eyes adjusted to the dim light as he took the place indicated by the chief.

He waited as the pipe bearer filled the ornate long stemmed pipe. The words of the others were low. Karien was accustomed to being the object of stares at such meetings for it happened in most all the camps where he stopped.

After the pipe smoking ceremony, Karien emerged and motioned for Matthew who was guarding the pack train from the crowd of giggling, inquisitive women.

“We better set up down stream,” Karien said, taking Big Man’s reins from the youth holding him. “These ladies look ready to do business with
us.”

As he swung his leg over the saddle, he felt disappointed. She was not among the crowd.

“Who are you looking for?” Matthew asked, riding up beside him with the horses in tow.

“Was I that obvious?” Karien asked as he smiled toward the large gathering of happy, chattering women who were going along with them.

“You’ve been searching for someone or thing ever since we came in here,” Matthew said. “I know that look, sir.”

“She isn’t here,” Karien said.

“Who isn’t here?”

“Never mind, I’ll point her out if I ever see her again.”

“Oh, Lord,” Matthew said. “I’ve never seen you worry about any woman, let alone a Crow.”

“There have been stranger things,” Karien said, with an edge of irritation. “Let’s get to work or haven’t you noticed the crowd we’ve attracted?”

“Aye, sir,” Matthew said, with a wave of his hand.

Karien returned Matthew’s salute with a scowl. Karien mused about his military service; grateful that was far behind him. Matthew still
teased him about his role as captain in the cavalry. The man’s knowledge of Karien’s rank had led to all the sirs.

Their blankets and goods spread on the ground, Karien dropped to his knees ready to trade. The women pushed in closer, ohing and ahing as he took out goods to show them.

He made a sign that he was ready for a customer. A round-faced older woman, her arms loaded with furs, pushed her way to the front. When she dropped on her knees to face him, she showed him her broken tooth smile.

“You got plenty goods?” she asked as she spread out her pelts of otter, fox and lynx.

“Plenty,” Karien said.

The woman took a kettle, beads, a comb and some red yard goods material in trade. So the trading began and stretched through the day. His piles of furs grew and the pannier’s supplies went down.

In the lodge, wearing her old dress, Red Star was sullen, still angry with her own exposition.

Laughing-Woman entered and spoke to her, “Let us go trade for those beads and some material.”

“No.”

Her mother frowned. “Why not? This is the one they call Eyes-of-Sky, the trader that Chief Silver Bear sent for because of his good dealings with other people.”

“I am going to remain here,” Red Star stated, unmoved because some yellow haired white man was in their camp. “Go see him, yourself.”

“Are you afraid of him?”

“No. I fear no white man.”

Laughing-Woman frowned. “He is a good one to fear. Very tall and handsome. Is that why you won’t go with me?”

“I do not want anything to do with him.”

“You don’t want any man,” her mother said and shook her head. “Besides he probably has a woman. He could have whoever he wants.”

“Not me,” Red Star snapped.

“I’ll go trade for your beads,” her mother said and began gathering some of the furs they had worked up during the winter.

She saw her mother’s disapproving glance back as she departed the lodge. No matter, she was not going to allow him to see her again.

When Laughing-Woman knelt on the blanket before him, Karien saw the woman’s resemblance to the maiden.

“You have blue beads?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, noting her clear English. “You speak the words of the white man well.”

“My husband, Tall-Elk was a scout for your army. I learned it from him.”

“Do you have a younger sister?” he asked, pouring the beads on the blanket for her to chose.

“Sister?” She blinked at his question.

“Never mind,” he said wishing he had not asked her.

“How much for this many?” she asked, with her palm nearly full.

“Two fox,” he said absently, becoming upset by the woman’s presence. Karien knew the price was too cheap. After putting the precious glass beads in her pouch, Laughing-Woman quickly handed him two pelts as if she feared he might raise the price. Then she excused herself.

Karien tried to see where she went but she disappeared beyond the waiting throng. He regretted not seeing which lodge she went to. His next customer, a coy smiling girl hardly out of her teens, knelt down on the
blanket. She laid down no furs so he wondered what she wished to trade. When he nodded, she opened her blouse and bared her breasts. Her hand reached for his, but not quick enough. Karien was familiar with such tricks and leaned back with his arms folded.

“No! Trade goods for furs,” he said sharply, making signs with his hands that she could understand.

She smiled big, and rose while adjusting her blouse. Then she proudly walked away as the other women snickered over her attempted commerce. When she was gone, Karien rose to his feet and signaled to Matthew to come and barter with them for a while.

When they were through with the last customer, the sun was flaming down in a wedge between two peaks. Both men were exhausted.

“There’s one in every camp,” Matthew said.

“What do you mean?” Karien asked.

“A woman willing to trade her body for some trinkets.”

“She was probably the most honest one here,” Karien said. “I should have given her a red scarf, but I was afraid she’d come back later.”

Matthew, busy unfurling the tent, said something inaudible. Karien guessed at the meaning of his partner’s words.

“On your own time,” he said, “you can go trade her a red scarf for a favor.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Let’s get this thing up, I’m starving.”

“A man makes a fortune in prime pelts and he’s worried about eating,” Matthew muttered, pushing the center poles into place.

“We will be busier tomorrow, those women were just testing our honesty today,” Karien warned.

“I know, they’ll figure we ain’t crooks and come back for what they really need.”

The tent finally set up, they moved their saddle and panniers inside the shelter against thievery. Then they sat outside on the ground in the twilight and chewed on buffalo jerky.

As deeper shadows engulfed the canyon, Karien watched the glow of the many cooking fires around the camp. The coffee water boiled on Matthew’s small blaze.

“Hey, McCollough,” Matthew said between hard bites on the jerky. “Weren’t you married once? To a white woman I mean.”

“Yes. She died while I was a lieutenant stationed in Minnesota.” “Sorry, sir,” the man said regretfully as he raised on his haunches to pour their coffee.

“No need, that was a long time ago.”

Matthew glanced back. “You ain’t exactly the squaw man type.”

“I can’t exactly see some fine educated lady either putting up with the likes of me.”

“Aye, but an Indian wife has a different meaning at a place like say Saint Louis.”

Karien nodded as he blew on his coffee. An Indian wife meant cutting ties with civilization. Fort Laramie maybe, the gold rush up on Cherry Creek but he couldn’t ever go back to Ohio with one. He had only been there once since Sherry had died and that was in respect to her people to explain how their daughter had succumbed to cholera.

“Did you ever see this Crow woman again?” Matthew asked.

“No. But I think her sister came and traded for some blue beads this afternoon.”

“But you never saw her before today?” Matthew sounded confused by the matter.

“A vision of her has been haunting me for a long time,” Karien said pulling the kerchief from his neck to hold the hot cup.

“Maybe she’s a witch?” Matthew asked.

“Aw, Matthew,” Karien scoffed, “there are no such things.”

“Aye, in England they got witches.”

Karien shook his head. “She’s very real. I saw her today.”

“Oh, sir, I ain’t doubting your keen eyes.”

The coffee tasted good and seemed to revive him. “Today has been a long day. Tomorrow, I will go ask Silver Bear where she is.”

“You are serious.”

“Let’s say I’m going to settle this.” Karien sipped on his coffee and studied the spray of stars in the slice of sky between the two mountain ranges. He rolled his bottom lip against the sharp edge of his top teeth and tested his bristled lip. Whoever she was, she couldn’t be very far.

Somewhere high on the mountain, a timber wolf howled. His throaty complaint seemed to plead with the night. Big Man answered, his shrill whistle and screams echoed as he stomped around on his short tether to the stout lodge pole pine.

In the lodge, unable to sleep, Red Star lay under her robes. Cold perspiration ran down her temples. She could hear the great horse’s screams. She shuddered, then threw the covers back and scrubbed her face with her palms. Where was this man with eyes like the sky? Red Star found herself inexplicably trembling.

Spellbound, she rose as if in a trance and put on her new dress. Silently, she slipped from the lodge. In the cool night air, she paused and located the low voices of the men talking in council and moved into the shadows to avoid them. She worked her way around the camp, her footsteps quiet on the blanket of needles.

Her heart beat faster in her throat as she approached the area of the traders. The big horse still screamed. Was he warning the man?

Cautiously, she approached him as he fretted on the short lead rope. The silvery light of the stars made his glossy coat shine. She blinked in amazement at the match of her dress and the horse’s color. He continued to snort and paw as she neared him

Red Star held out her hand and spoke softly in the ways of horses. At first, he blew at her but fearless she advanced, his impatience seemed to melt when she touched his soft muzzle. He stood very still as she moved her palms over his nostrils to acquaint him with her smell.

She spoke to him in Crow as she stroked the long, wavy locks of his mane.

“Are you trying to steal my horse?” Karien asked softly from behind her.

She whirled at his words, ready to flee. Speechless, she stood with
her back to the stallion and faced the trader they called Eyes-of-Sky. Her heart pounded so hard it knifed her. She found herself trembling with anticipation.

BOOK: Waltzing With Tumbleweeds
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