Gear, W Michael - Novel 05 (74 page)

 
          
 
"We'll slip across this
neck"—Baptiste pointed—"and meet 'em when they comes around t'other
side."

 
          
 
"You know, it would be a lot shorter trip
if the river ran straight."

 
          
 
Baptiste gave him a grin. "Yep, but like
I told ye, it's just the way things is."

 
          
 
"Do you think we'll make Wah-Menitu's
village by dark?"

 
          
 
"Reckon. Old Travis, he'll have scouted
the whole way."

 
          
 
"Think he's all right? Going up ahead
like he did?"

 
          
 
"That coon could sneak up on old Hob
hisself. If'n thar be an ambush up ahead, Travis'll sniff her out. He's hell on
Injun sign, that coon is."

 
          
 
"What if it comes to a fight? What do I
do?"

 
          
 
"Don't shoot till the last."
Baptiste plodded ahead after making sure the horses were following. "You
got one shot in that Hawken. Injuns generally don't charge lessen they knows
they can take you. Why, I've seen one man hold off thirty Injuns with a loaded
rifle. A band of warriors knows that whoever makes the first play, he's gonna
get shot. I tell you, it settles a man's blood to stare down a rifle
barrel."

 
          
 
Remembering the gaping maw of Green's pistol,
Richard could agree.

 
          
 
"That's the secret—and it ain't no sure
thing. Keep that shot till you needs 'er. That's the only thing a man's got
going fo' him when he's outnumbered. The Injuns might know they can kill you,
but yor taking more of them rascals with you than they're getting. If Injuns figger
they'll get one scalp to the loss of three, most times they'll back off."

 
          
 
What would Kant or Hegel make of that? Richard
shook his head. "I hope I never have to find out."

 
          
 
As the sun slanted into the western sky, the
Maria rounded yet another of the river's oxbows, and Travis walked out onto the
riverbank to watch them approach. A number of Sioux warriors stepped out of the
trees to stand behind him.

 
          
 
Richard and Baptiste checked the lead ropes
one last time to ensure that none of the stock were loose. The horses
approached the waiting men with pricked ears.

 
          
 
Richard swallowed hard, sweaty hand tightening
on the rifle. Nothing in the world could have reassured him like the feel of
that hard wood and steel. He yearned for his father's pistol—the one he'd so
foolishly left behind in that other world. What a reassurance it would be. In
that instance, at least, his father had been right.

 
          
 
Travis leaned on his rifle, a huge smile
twisting the scars on his face. 4 'About time ye coons made her this far. Right
up round the bend hyar, thar be a good place ter camp. Little creek runs out
along a grassy flat. Dick, reckon you and Baptiste can make a picket fer the
hosses."

 
          
 
"How far to Wah-Menitu's village?"
Baptiste asked before striding forward to shake hands with the grinning
warriors.

 
          
 
" 'Bout a half mile. They's camped up on
the bench above the river where the breeze keeps the skeeters off."

 
          
 
Richard forced a smile and ceremoniously shook
hands with each of the warriors. They looked fierce enough— keen-eyed, with
faces that could have been carved of dark walnut. Streaks of yellow, red, and
black paint decorated cheeks and foreheads. Several had feathers stuck lopsided
in greased hair. A small leather pouch—sometimes beaded or covered with quillwork—was
suspended from each neck. Brightly painted bags with long fringe and beadwork
hung from breechclouts. Fringed moccasins and colored blankets made up the rest
of their apparel. Each carried a bow, a war club, or a trade gun. The latter
exhibited polished brass tacks driven into the stocks in geometric patterns.

 
          
 
Maria had come into sight, the engages poling
her nervously onward. Trudeau shouted at those on cordelle to keep them moving.
Green waved from his place on the cargo box beside Henri.
Willow
was conspicuously absent. Inside the boat,
no doubt.

 
          
 
Travis led the way toward the campsite,
walking in the midst of the warriors. He talked with the Sioux, hands making
signs despite the rifle he carried. To Richard's eyes, it looked like the
reunion of long-lost friends.

 
          
 
Richard started at a rustling in the grass to
his left. There, hidden so carefully, lay two young boys, big-eyed and excited
at having sneaked so close to the White men.

 
          
 
Richard nodded at them. One gasped, while the
other leapt to his feet and charged off, only to be outrun by his frightened
companion.

 
          
 
"Kids is kids anywhere," Baptiste
noted with a shake of the head.

 
          
 
More Sioux, Wah-Menitu in the forefront,
waited silently in the clearing Travis had chosen for their camp. What thoughts
were passing behind those black eyes? Richard could see women standing behind
the men at the edge of the fringe of trees.

 
          
 
Travis stopped and spread his hands wide,
shouting in Sioux. Wah-Menitu barked out an answer, and lifted his pipe. The
Sioux surged forward.

 
          
 
"What do I do now?" Richard
whispered. His nerves tightened.

 
          
 
"Smile and act glad ta see 'em."
Baptiste grinned like it was a birthday.

 
          
 
Richard met grin with grin, bobbing his head,
enduring the hugs and cries of amazement as fingers felt his fetish. The horses
stamped and shied until it was all Richard could do to hold his string.

 
          
 
The
camp
Travis
had located proved perfect. Four trees
stood in a small clearing beside the slow stream. The river lay no more than a
hundred yards away.

 
          
 
"Throw yer picket around them
trees." Travis pointed out the four. "We'll pen the hosses thar.
Reckon we can pitch the camps round the outside." He raised a grizzled
eyebrow. "Get my drift, thar, Dick?"

 
          
 
"I do." Surrounded, the horses would
be much harder to steal.

 
          
 
As Maria pulled up, the Sioux rushed down to
watch, babbling in excitement as the wary engages lowered the plank and tied
off the painter. Even as he watched, more Indians appeared out of the trees,
clustering around the boat.

 
          
 
"Green'll be needing help," Travis
said softly. "I got ter go down and keep them red coons from swarming the
boat. See ter yer hosses, Dick. Then come give me a hand. Baptiste?"

 
          
 
Together the two stalked off toward the
growing crowd of Sioux. Richard hurried to stretch his pickets and crowd the
horses into the enclosure. As he pulled hobbles and halters from the packs,
Sioux women were picking their way toward the boat, backs bent under doubled
hides. Squealing children and yapping dogs followed in their wake.

 
          
 
Richard checked and double-checked the picket,
making sure each horse was secure.

 
          
 
Toussaint and Louis de Clerk trotted up,
packing blankets and a rifle. To Richard, Toussaint said, "We take care of
the horses. The booshway wants you at the boat."

 
          
 
Richard grabbed up his rifle and headed for
the knot of Sioux crowded around the Maria.

 
          
 
He shouldered through the throng, surprised by
the smoky smell of the Indians. The women watched him with wary black eyes
while suddenly-quiet children clung to their leather skirts.

 
          
 
At the plank, Green had set up his table and
taken a chair. A pile of buffalo hides was already laid out for inspection
while Wah-Menitu stood with arms crossed, talking in mixed Sioux and English
with Green. Travis and Baptiste stood to either side, guarding the plank that
led to the boat.

 
          
 
Richard sidled up next to Travis. "What's
happening?"

 
          
 
"Trade. Reckon it'll go on till about
midnight
. After that, we'll mosey up ter the village
fer a feast."

 
          
 
Richard scanned the growing crowd of Sioux.
"They'll clean us out."

 
          
 
"Yep, if'n they could." A gleam came
to Travis's eye. "That's the art of trade, Dick: Give as little as ye can
fer as much as ye can get—but don't rile the Sioux in the process. That's whar
Davey shines. He's got the savvy fer it. This child don't."

 
          
 
Baptiste added, "That's why he's Booshway
and I ain't."

 
          
 
At the same time, Henri was carrying out
blankets, hanks of beads, gun flints, mirrors, knives, lead, and other items.
He spread several blankets on the ground and laid out the articles atop them.

 
          
 
"Injuns want ter see it all, make up
their minds about what they want ter trade fer," Travis explained. Even as
he spoke the Sioux crowded around, fingering needles, kettles, and iron
arrowpoints. Bolts of colored cloth passed from hand to hand amidst muttering
and some little shoving.

 
          
 
"Is that wise?" Richard asked,
indicating a warrior who picked up an ax and walked away.

 
          
 
"He ain't a gonna steal it. See that
mean-looking rascal yonder with the black strip painted across his eyes? He's a
soldier, like camp police. He's a-watching. Wah-Menitu don't want no trouble
over this."

 
          
 
"But they'd take the horses."

 
          
 
"That ain't trade, that's stealing."

 
          
 
Richard scratched the back of his neck.
"So, why steal a horse, but not the ax?"

 
          
 
" 'Cause it's the rules, Dick. And if n
that coon did walk off with the ax, that soldier yonder would make him bring it
back."