If the ground had suddenly opened and swallowed him whole, Nate would not have been more shocked. He sat in a daze, his mouth parted, only vaguely aware that Winona’s head had snapped up at the mention of his former sweetheart and that Shakespeare had come alert at the news. He became conscious of the curious stares of Niles Thompson and the rest and forced his mind to work and his mouth to move. “I knew a woman by that name once, back in New York City.”
“Well, she’s in St. Louis now and she’s hankering to see you,” Gordon reported.
“Did she say why?” Nate inquired, struggling to compose his swirling thoughts. Adeline wasn’t the sort to enjoy life on the frontier. She relished city living too much. She thrived on wealth, on the theater, on extravagant dances. He couldn’t imagine anything that would induce her to forgo the comforts of New York City for the more primitive atmosphere of St. Louis.
“No, sir, she didn’t,” Gordon said. “But she practically begged me to look you up.” He paused, noting Nate’s expression. “I did gather she’d been hunting you for quite some time, and had about given up when someone suggested letting the Hawken brothers know. Pretty smart too, if you ask me. Every trapper in these mountains stops by the Hawken shop sooner or later.”
Nate absently nodded. He deliberately avoided looking at Winona because he didn’t want her to see the emotional turmoil undoubtedly reflected in his eyes. At the mention of Adeline’s name all his old feelings for her had welled up inside of him. He had them under control again, but it bothered him that he could still feel affection for her after having been married to Winona for so many years.
“She’s not alone,” Gordon said.
“What?” Nate responded, listening with only half an ear as he stared at his moccasins. Should he go see her or not? Doing so might upset Winona tremendously.
“There’s a gent with her,” Gordon disclosed. “From New York, I reckon. Slim as a rail, and he has the face of a rattler. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could heave a bull buffalo.”
Nate thoughtfully chewed on his lower lip. Who could this stranger be? A relative of Adeline’s? Her husband, perhaps?
“He sat near us in the hotel lobby while we were talking,” Gordon said. “And he kept watching me like a panther about to pounce on its prey. I didn’t take to him and I’m afraid it showed.”
“You didn’t get his name?”
“No, sir. She didn’t mention it and I wasn’t about to pry. I spotted a pair of pistols under his fancy jacket, and his hands were never far from them. If you run into him, you be careful. He’s poison through and through.”
“Thanks,” Nate said.
Niles coughed and motioned for his companions to move off. “Be seeing you, Nate. Come to the Nez Percé camp at first light if you’re still of a mind to help track down those infernal Blackfeet.”
“I’ll be there,” Nate promised, although at that moment he didn’t feel like venturing into the forest after the raiding party. He didn’t feel like doing much of anything.
Shakespeare added a few branches to the fire and waited until the men were long gone before he spoke. “Isn’t this an interesting development? I remember you telling me about sparking that Van Buren girl, but I’d never have guessed she’s still interested in you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nate snapped.
“Why else has she gone to so much trouble to find you?”
“How am I supposed to know? And I don’t see where it’s any of your business.”
“True,” McNair said softly, and sighed. “But I am your best friend, or so you’ve led me to believe.”
Nate knew Shakespeare had been offended by his brusque behavior, and he searched for the proper words to mend the rift.
“Perhaps you’re right. She might have traveled across half a continent for another reason,” Shakespeare said wryly, and then quoted the bard. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
Not about to bandy words with a man who could talk rings around a tree, Nate looped his arms over his knees and marveled at the incredible turn of events. He’d never expected to see Adeline again. This surprising news filled him with conflicting currents of curiosity and reservation.
A figure materialized at his side.
“Do you plan to see this woman, husband?”
Nate glanced up. Winona’s features were inscrutable but her tone had been strained. “I honestly don’t know yet. My first reaction is shrug it off. Why should I, when Adeline and I mean nothing to each other anymore? But I can’t help wonder. Maybe she’s brought news of my family.”
“Perhaps,” Winona said with as little conviction as it was humanly possible to convey.
“Maybe she intends to marry that nasty gentleman Gordon was telling us about,” Shakespeare commented. “Maybe she wants to invite you to the wedding.”
Nate stared at him. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a deplorable sense of humor?”
“If you decide to go, I am going with you,” Winona declared.
“What about Zach?”
“He is our son. He goes with us.”
“The trip will take about three weeks and we’d have to cross Arapaho and Cheyenne territory. You would be safer staying at home.”
“You do not want us to come?”
The hurt in her tone made Nate blink. “What a silly question. If you insist on going along, I won’t object.” He stood and took her hands in his. “I was only thinking of your safety. Your people aren’t on friendly terms with the Arapahos and Cheyennes, and you know they wouldn’t hesitate to take you captive.”
“I would face any danger with you by my side.”
Disregarding the presence of Shakespeare and Blue Water Woman, Nate tenderly embraced Winona and held her close. He could feel her trembling slightly as if she were cold even though the weather was warm. “You have nothing to worry about,” he whispered in her ear. “I love you and only you. If I see Adeline it will not have any effect on us.”
Winona nodded, then silently walked to the lean-to, where little Zach had curled up beside Samson and was sound asleep.
“You can’t blame her for being upset,” Shakespeare said quietly.
Nate sat down and poked a stick into the flames. “She should know better,” he insisted.
“Think. Put yourself in her place. How many trappers have taken Indian wives and then gone off and left them? How many Shoshoni, Flathead, and Nez Percé women have been forced to rear half-breed children on their own after being abandoned?”
“I would never do that to Winona.”
“You know it and I know it, and in her heart Winona knows it too. But her head right now is telling her she might lose you and she can’t stand the thought.”
“Then I’ll go over and tell her to her face.”
“Won’t do any good,” Shakespeare said. “Women only take a man’s word when they’re courting. After marriage they doubt everything a man says. He has to show them, to prove himself by his deeds.”
“Winona believes everything I tell her,” Nate stated flatly.
“Oh, she’ll tell you she does. But deep down she won’t accept that you don’t love Adeline until she sees the two of you together and can judge with her own eyes,” Shakespeare said. “If you don’t take her to St. Louis she’ll always have a nagging doubt gnawing at her mind. Were I you I’d take her and no doubt about it.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Nate responded. “You’ll be safe at your cabin while I’m risking life and limb to get my family safely there. You know how far it is. You know how dangerous …” He suddenly stopped, struck by inspiration, and said quickly, “Come with us.”
“What?”
Nate intentionally raised his voice. “I’d take it as a favor if you would come with us. Bring Blue Water Woman, if you want. She might like to see St. Louis herself.”
“I have no desire to see a city again. They’re filthy places, like rat nests. There’s always garbage and worse in the gutters, the air reeks, and there are swarms of people scurrying about like chickens flapping around with their heads chopped off. No, thanks.”
“I appreciate your feelings, but four guns are better than two. With four adults we can hold our own and keep the hostiles at bay.”
“There is safety in numbers,” Shakespeare admitted. “But I truly don’t want”
From near the lean-to Blue Water Woman spoke up. “I have always wanted to see one of your cities. And I would feel guilty if something were to happen to Nate and his family and we weren’t there to help.”
Frowning, Shakespeare gazed at her. “You have no idea what you’re asking. The dregs of the earth gather in cities. It’s where weaklings and cowards can breed in safety, where all types of human vultures congregate. Imagine the worst sort of people there can be, and you’ll find them in cities. Thieves, murderers, scoundrels of every stripe are everywhere.”
“There must be good people in the cities too,” Blue Water Woman said.
“Some,” Shakespeare reluctantly admitted.
“I would like to go. We are getting on in years, as you have many times said, and we should make the journey while we still can.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Please. For me.”
“Damn it all, woman.”
“Please.”
“Why I married you, I’ll never know,” Shakespeare said gruffly, and gave Nate a quizzical look. “Satisfied?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Like hell you don’t,” Shakespeare retorted, then sighed. “Very well. When a man’s own wife and best friend turn against him, what else can he do? Blue Water Woman and I will go to St. Louis with you.”
Nate nearly shouted with joy.
A pink tinge colored the eastern sky when Nate made his way alone toward the Nez Percé encampment. Samson had wanted to come but he’d left the dog behind as a playmate, and guard, for Zach.
He hummed softly and stepped with a happy stride, inwardly chuckling for the hundredth time at his good fortune. Thanks to Adeline’s unforeseen arrival on the frontier, he would get Shakespeare to St. Louis. Once there, he would convince Shakespeare to visit a doctor or trick him into going.
And he was happy for another reason having nothing to do with Adeline Van Buren. It had been eight years since last he was in the States, eight long years since he’d enjoyed the dubious benefits of civilization such as sleeping in a down-filled bed or drinking tasty ale at a tavern. Although he now knew he could well do without such niceties, the prospect of indulging himself once more, perhaps for the very last time, tickled his fancy. He disliked admitting it to himself, but he was mildly excited over the trip.
Finally, there was Adeline. For three hours before he fell asleep he had reviewed every memory of her he had, and searched his soul for the answer to the all-important question: Did he still care for her? The answer was a resounding “No!” Not in the intimate sense that he cared for Winona. But he did feel friendship for her, and he figured seeing her again would be a pleasant experience if she had forgiven him for deserting her.
Deep in thought, he walked along the river until he spied the Nez Percé village. Already the women were up gathering wood for the morning fires. A few braves stood outside their lodges, observing the dawn. One tall warrior had just emerged and was stretching.
Nate had to go around a bend, and a stand of pines cut off his view. As he came to the curve he heard the soft clump of hoofs. A few strides later he saw a group of Nez Percé leading their horses directly toward him, no doubt heading for a flat stretch of shore a dozen yards away where they could water their mounts.
He recollected the annoyed looks Shakespeare had given him last night and laughed lightly. Shakespeare was no man’s fool. The mountain man knew he had been duped, yet he hadn’t pressed the issue. Nate speculated on whether Shakespeare might actually be glad they were going. Despite all that talk about owing God a death, no man in his right mind wanted to die. And a man like McNair, a natural-born fighter who had survived more years in the wild than any other trapper because he was a tough as rawhide and as feisty as a cantankerous mule, wasn’t about to roll over and give up the ghost without a struggle. Tussling was as natural to Shakespeare as breathing, and it didn’t matter whether the enemy was a hostile Indian, a bear, or the Grim Reaper.
Nate abruptly realized the Nez Percé had stopped and were staring at him in surprise. He gazed at them and felt immense surprise of his own commingled with fleeting panic.
Because they weren’t Nez Percé.
They were Blackfeet.