Rose felt something tickling her nose. Nate? Her eyes sprang open and met Jenny’s sweet smile. Capturing the baby’s little fingers, Rose kissed them. Was anyone else awake? She raised her head to peek over Star’s sleeping form and saw Nate also asleep on the opposite side of the fire pit. It must be very early, or only a little past dawn on a gray morning. Her eyes roved over the fur-shrouded frontiersman as he lay there, and a smile tugged at her lips. After all his tossing and turning last night, he needed the extra sleep.
Still in her clothes from yesterday, she bundled Jenny, eased up off the sleeping pallet, and slipped outside with her.
Mr. Hawkes and his two companions sat with their backs to her around a roaring fire. They’d truly be off to an early start, Rose mused, heading for the woods.
After seeing to her morning needs, she plucked the covered milk pail from the thin film of ice surrounding it in the stream and started back. Jenny Ann would be patient for only so long.
She could see the workers loading bundles of pelts down at the river as she came up behind her three employers. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
The threesome turned to her, all smiles, and spoke as one. “Good morning, Mistress Kinyon.”
“I trust you slept well.”
Mr. Hawkes nodded. “It was a pleasure not to have to erect tents. The fire kept us quite comfortable.”
She smiled and set down the pail. As she reached into a sack and removed a small pan, he got up and came forward. “Let me hold your little one for you. She reminds me of my grandbaby back home.”
“Why, thank you.” She handed Jenny to him then poured milk into the pan and set it on one of the rocks surrounding the fire pit. “I like to warm her milk on cold mornings.” She glanced up at the official. “What’s your grandbaby’s name, Mr. Hawkes?”
“Arthur. Arthur Hawkes. My daughter-in-law insisted on naming him after me. We call him Arty. He was seven months old when I left on this trip. How old is your little girl?”
“She’s—what’s the date? I’m afraid I’ve lost count.” Rose felt her cheeks warm.
The man chuckled. “That’s easy to do out here, so far away from everything. Today’s the third of December.” He patted Jenny’s back then turned to his companions. “You two go join the others. I need to speak to Mistress Kinyon alone. I’ll be along directly.”
A niggle of unease made Rose’s heart skip a beat. Had he discovered the deception?
His expression gave no indication of censure. After the men had left, he met her gaze. “I must ask you, are you truly here of your own free will, mistress? You may speak frankly to me.”
Relieved that he was merely concerned for her welfare, Rose gave a polite nod. “Yes, of course. Point of fact, ‘twas entirely my idea. A way for us to earn a goodly amount of money in a relatively short time.”
A frown furrowed the man’s forehead. “But a decision of that magnitude requires considerably more experience than you possess.”
Rose’s pulse increased. Surely he was not reneging! Not after all her and Nate’s efforts to convince him of their capabilities.
“You came out here with Eustice Smith this summer, did you not?”
She reached down for the pan so he wouldn’t see her face. “Yes. ’Tis true.” Had Mr. Smith informed the fur company about her, his bondservant?
“Then you weren’t here during the time of the spring raids, when captives are brought in, were you?”
Remembering Jenny Ann’s mother, Rose barely kept herself from shuddering as she poured milk into a tin cup. Amazing how she’d blocked the poor woman’s dreadful fate from her mind already.
Hawkes stepped closer. “Torture is the Indians’ favorite entertainment. They delight in keeping their victims screaming for days on end before the poor devils finally die. They derive some kind of perverse pleasure in causing people to suffer unspeakable horrors.”
Her chest tightening, Rose reached for Jenny and took her from the official. “I’m sure you must be exaggerating. I’ve heard of the gauntlet captives must run through to be worthy of joining the tribe. ’Tis an initiation, I believe. The lads at university do no less.”
Mr. Hawkes wagged his head and scoffed. “Listen to me, you silly woman. That’s only for the ones the Indians intend to adopt into the tribe. Captured braves and other unfortunate individuals are another matter entirely. Some of them are taken with the prior intent to be tortured for the tribe’s amusement.”
Stunned, Rose sank down onto the log to feed the baby. What a fool she’d been to excuse so lightly the mind-set of the Indian.
“I can understand your wanting to be here to trade when the trappers bring in the winter furs. Granted. But know this—” He flicked a gaze beyond her.
Giving the baby a sip, Rose looked up to see Robert striding toward them.
Hawkes gave him a courteous nod. “It’s just as well you’re here to hear this. I’ll be sending replacements out here no later than April 1. I will not be party to having Mistress Kinyon and her babe around when the spring raids start. Is that clear?”
Robert glanced at Rose then back at the official. “I wholeheartedly agree. We’ll be packed an’ ready. Don’t much relish bein’ here myself then. ”
Hawkes tipped his hat to Rose. “I shall look forward to seeing you at our headquarters this spring.” He pivoted on his heel and started to leave.
“I bid you Godspeed, Mr. Hawkes,” she called after him. “We shall pray for your safety.”
He stopped and swung back, looking from her to Robert and back again. “You look after yourself, too.”
Rose sensed from the queer looks passing between her friend and the official that something serious was being left unsaid. But what?
Allowing grabby little Jenny to hold her own cup, Rose could wait no longer. She looked up at Nate’s partner. “Robert, ’tis quite obvious you and Mr. Hawkes went to great lengths to keep something from me. I must know what it is.”
From his demeanor, she could tell she had him cornered.
“I’m not— Oh look. Here comes Nate.”
Approaching the fire, Nate gave a huge grin, directing his gaze at Rose. “Mornin’.” Then he tipped his head in the direction of the riverbank. “I see the men are ready to push off. I’d sure hate to be out on that icy river before the sun has a chance to warm things up.” He gave the departing company men a jaunty wave, then grabbing a cup from the sack, he poured himself some tea and came to sit next to Rose and the baby.
She took a slow, calming breath. “It seems Robert and Mr. Hawkes are keeping a secret from me, Nate. One I’m sure you must be privy to.” She arched a brow.
He shot his pal a serious glower. “You don’t say.”
Robert shrugged. “Hawkes says he’s sendin’ replacements out here by the first of April. Looks like all that fine playactin’ of yours didn’t make much difference. You’re still gonna be tossed out.”
“‘Twas not like that.” Rose let out a huff. “Not like that at all.” She took the cup from Jenny and wiped the child’s face and neck with her apron. “Mr. Hawkes doesn’t want me here in the spring when the Shawnees start bringing in captives.”
Nate kneaded his chin in thought. “Ah yes, the spring raids. I’d say the decision’s for the best. You an’ Jenny Ann need to be away from here then. Somewhere safe.”
Recalling Hannah Wright and her needless death, Rose couldn’t fault any of them for their reasoning. “I suppose you’re right.” She picked up the baby and kissed her plump cheek. “But I shall hate having to give up Jenny. I’m afraid I’ve become quite attached to the little angel.”
Nate ruffled the towhead’s silky curls, making her giggle. “She is a cutie, no doubt about that.”
“And then of course,” Rose continued, “there are my sisters. I shan’t have nearly enough money by April. Nor will I have this sort of opportunity ever again.”
“Greedy, greedy.” With a teasing smirk, Nate got up.
The accusation irked Rose. She stood to face him straight on. “’Tis not for me, and you very well know it.”
“Aye. I know.” His expression sobered. “Tell you what. I’m willin’ to give you whatever I earn in tradin’ between now an’ then to help. How’s that?”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he turned to his partner. “What say we go take care of the stock while the gals fix breakfast?”
Robert slid a longing look over at Rose’s wigwam.
Clapping him on the back, Nate snickered. “Don’t worry, pal. Your little darlin’ll be up an’ about soon enough. I saw her sneakin’ peeks at me while I was gettin’ up.”
He grunted then started after Nate for the animal pens. “Shining Star knows you had no business spendin’ the night in there.”
Rose couldn’t let that pass. “‘Twas all my fault,” she called after them. They swiveled to face her. “What webs we do weave when we try to deceive…or something to that effect.” Blushing, she hung her head.
But not before she caught Nate’s grin. “No. Exactly like that!” He gave a hoot over his shoulder as he continued toward the stock. “Exactly like that.”
A cluster of Shawnee on their way to the trading post passed Nate and Bob as the two of them hiked toward the center of the village. “They’re over there, in front of Red Hawk’s wigwam.” Bob pointed with his decorated Indian pipe.
“Good. Cornstalk’s there, too.” Nate picked up the pace. “Might as well get this over with.”
Obviously having spied them approaching, Red Hawk raised his hand and motioned for Nate and Bob to come join him. “Greetings,” he said, the word heavily accented as they reached the campfire. “Sit.”
Nate knew that was pretty much the extent of Red Hawk’s English, but he appreciated the attempt, since his own knowledge of the Shawnee language was equally lacking. “Greetings.” He smiled and nodded at Cornstalk and a couple of older Indians as he took a seat alongside Bob on a coarse buffalo hide.
Bob took a tobacco pouch from his pocket, pouring and tamping a portion into the bowl of his pipe. He plucked a stick from the fire and lit the pipe, drawing a couple of puffs to get it going. He then handed it with both hands to Red Hawk.
As the chief took his time smoking the pipe, Nate sensed the man was particularly enjoying tobacco that had been cured on the plantations back east.
While Red Hawk was occupied, Bob started a conversation in Shawnee with Cornstalk. After the brave’s response, he turned to Nate. “He says the music last night was as I figgered. One of the young bucks was tryin’ to make time with a maiden by impressin’ her with his skill on the flute.”
“Oh, the webs their sweet smiles weave for us to get caught in.” Nate chuckled, remembering Rose’s remark.
Bob laughed also, and Cornstalk interrupted with a question. When Bob translated for him, all the Indians present laughed and nodded at Nate.
Once the pipe had made the rounds and returned to Bob, Nate nudged him. “Mebbe it’s a good time to mention that invite to dinner for the chiefs an’ their families.”
“They’re gonna consider it pretty strange, you know.”
“Aye.” Nate shrugged. “But no more strange than all of us sharin’ the same pipe is to me, a white man.”
Bob turned his attention to the two chiefs. Nate recognized Rose’s name a time or two in the conversation and watched the older men exchange disbelieving glances.
Finally Red Hawk’s feathered headdress bobbed as he met Nate’s gaze with a nod and laughed.
Bob grinned along with them. “They say they’d be pleased to accept.”
“Yeah, but what’s so all-fired funny?” Nate frowned, looking around at all the amused expressions.
“I’ll explain later. First, I’d better ask if they know anythin’ about the attack on the tradin’ post at the Seneca village at Venango.”
Unable to understand the proceedings, Nate could only watch expressions and draw his own conclusions. The Indians seemed surprised that the French had seized Frazier’s trading post, but he couldn’t tell if it was an act being put on for his and Bob’s benefit.
Nate was pretty sure he knew what Bob was relating, and he watched especially close for the slightest flicker of an eye, any telltale fidgeting. Still, nothing sinister seemed apparent while Cornstalk and Red Hawk both took turns answering. But then, red men were noted for being stoic when they wanted to be.
After a few moments of lighter conversation, Bob hiked his chin at Nate. “I reckon we better get back an’ help Rose. There’s prob’ly a crowd at the store by now.”
Once they’d said their good-byes and were far enough away, Nate turned to his pal. “Well? What’d they say? Are they willin’ to stay loyal to us, knowin’ the French are both downriver an’ upriver from here?”
He shrugged. “They gave me the same ol’ speech. Our trade goods are better, an’ the Shawnees are stronger an’ braver than any Seneca ever thought of bein’. An’ Cornstalk said the French bleed just like the Seneca.”
“That sounds fine an’ good. But did they come right out an’ say they’d stay loyal?”
Coming to an abrupt halt, Bob looked him square in the eye. “Come to think of it, they never actually said those words.”
Nate gave him a thoughtful nod. “Winter’s almost on us. Not even the French should be out makin’ trouble this time of year.” He paused. “By the way, why were the Indians laughin’ at me when you asked the chiefs to dinner?”
“Oh that.” A grin crawled across Bob’s irksome face. “They said Rose was—what was that word? Oh yeah. She’s got you henpecked real good.”
Nate drilled him with his most menacing glare. “An’ who, might I ask, gave ’em that idea?”
Instead of showing the least amount of remorse, Bob threw back his head and howled with laughter. His next words came out in a sputter. “You’re even startin’ to sound all uppity, just like her.”
Chagrined, Nate gave a resigned nod. “You’re right, ol’ buddy. But if I’m henpecked, you’re nothin’ but a flop-eared hound, moonin’ after your Shining Star. That’s some lovesick name you labeled her with, by the way.”
Bob gave a helpless, palms-up shrug. “Right. Absolutely right. Looks like both of us have turned into nothin’ but a couple of ol’ lap dogs. But ain’t it fun!”