HE noted the lodge of Sights the Enemy, familiar to him with its painted tokens. Singing Bird would be there, he opined; as pretty as her name. He would stop off here, on the chance of a word with her. If he got his pelts back, he would have enough to lay down on the nail and take her away.
Carson drew rein abruptly, as a figure came into his path and stood there. A young Arapahoe warrior. Brave Elk. A fine, promising warrior, Brave Elk, but what of that? A white man had the call when a likely squaw was ready for the bidding.
“You come again. You do no good,” Brave Elk gave blunt greeting. “You had better turn around.”
“What’s the matter, Brave Elk?” “She is not for you. You won't see her.” exploded the warrior. He must have noted Carson’s approach, had no doubt been waiting for this moment. “The price is 20 horses. You’re poor. You have nothing.”
It was unpleasant truth, which made Carson’s smile fade. Twenty horses? This was greedy value, if Sights the Enemy had really set it. “So you think I'm poor?” “It is true. I know. Powder and guns will buy horses. Do you bring beaver to trade for powder? No. You are as poor now as you were last summer. That is the word. She is promised for 20 horses. I have eight. When I get 10 I’ll offer them. She will not marry that red-faced Sun Buffalo.”
Carson’s brain blazed with sudden hot light. Shunan! It was Shunan who had sent those Blackfoot braves to robbery of trap and camp. Shunan, making him poor with doubled design, leaving him in debt to the Hudson’s Bay, bidding for the Arapahoe girl himself, playing his breed daughter’s game to catch Carson’s hand.
“I’ll talk with Sights the Enemy,” said Carson, and rode on to the lodge.
Singing Bird was outside. He dismounted, but scarcely had he tittered a word when she covered her face and ran into the lodge. Then her father stepped through the entrance, but gave the visitors no sign of greeting, only a level stare.
“How?” said Carson, and went on in the Arapahoe tongue: “You are well? I would talk with you.”
“I see you again,” answered Sights the Enemy. “You make trouble. I ask you to keep away.”
“I hear you are going to sell Singing Bird. Is that true?”
“She will bring me 20 horses. That is the offer. When the man comes with 20 horses, she will go away with him.”
“I made you a present that you wanted.”
Sights the Enemy smiled. “You have no horses. You are poor. The man who offered the horses is a head man. He is rich.”
And with this clincher, Sights the Enemy turned his back and went into his lodge again.
Carson headed for the fork of the Big Sandy.
The camp of the Hudson’s Bay party was unmistakable. Indians, gay breeds aflash with color, squaws, children, song and laughter and staccato voices; the buoyancy of high spirits and prospering business. All one big family, this, welded together by mixture of bloods.
And there was Shunan, yes, his hulking seated form, flaming visage uplifted. He had seen Carson’s arrival. Now he lifted to his feet as Carson’s horse bore in and scattered the yapping dogs.
Carson halted with a plunge, rifle over knees. Sight of the man lifted his blood in hot boil. He sat his mount, waiting upon word or movement that would put finger to trigger. The words he had meant to say jammed in his throat, flooded into his fixed, intent gaze.
Shunan brushed caution aside with an easy laugh and a gesture of free hand.
“Leetle Chief? He is welcome,” he said, all too friendly. “I have expected you. Here to see Captain McKay?”
“Here to see you,” snapped Carson.
“And nobody else? Well, well, get down, man! My lodge is yours.”
“No blanket is big enough for the two of us to sit on, Shunan. I can talk plenty as I am. So you set those Injuns on me, did you?”
“Non! Non!” declared Shunan. “I sent Marie and Plenty Eagle and saved your life from those bad hearts. You must believe.”
“Where are my beaver?”
Shunan laughed. “By gar! For your life you swap a few beaver, and you are mad! That is one joke. Two bale you get back. Maybe you get your bale too.”
“So you know about it all.”
“Sure. Plenty Eagle sent me a picture of the marks on the bale. My frien', I hide nothing. It is too bad you keep your hair and lose your furs, hein? You are foolish. What is one leetle bale of beaver to the rich trail I have showed you?”
Carson dared venture nothing more as to the bale, lest its importance be guessed and it be examined.
“Your tongue is split, Shunan,” he said. “I warned you to leave Singing Bird alone. Now you think to get her. Leave her alone or I’ll flash lead through you!”
Shunan drew himself up.
“She is for Shunan; it is all arranged. Twenty horses. I will pay them. But you, Leetle Chief, you do not have to pay. He can have a wife who will make him rich and ask for herself nothing. I have tol’ you the truth. Look! She is strong medicine, no?”
She was coming from the lodge, she herself—Go Everywhere Woman. The glowing face, the eyes of allure, the vermilion-parted braids, the warm tawny sleekness of her, striking the senses. She came forward, smiling.
“Kit Carson is come to the Hudson’s Bay and the lodge of Shunan?” Her voice was rich music. “He brings no beaver or horse. Yet I see him rich, strong, powerful! What does he want in this camp?”
Carson looked at her, closed his mind against her. She was enough to drive a man out of his head. He thought upon his white beaver.
“I want Tom McKay,” he said curtly.
“Him first, good.” And Shunan nodded. “That is right. He will be easy found. He expects you. And when you have talked with him, come back. We will smoke. This lodge is yours.”
Carson rode away, not trusting himself to words.
He went through the camp to the lodge of McKay, and his relief was quick. No deep guile here. Tom McKay, chief of the Hudson’s Bay brigade in these eastern limits of Oregon was a man well liked. Generous, impulsive, tall and powerful, dark with the strain of Ojibwa mother, courteous with his upbringing in the company. He and Carson sat in talk together, and after the opening civilities Carson came to the point.
“On my way here, the Blackfeet robbed me of my traps and furs.”
McKay nodded. “I know. Why do you. an American, come to me?”
“One of your men, Shunan, put them up to it. Do the Hudson’s Bay people rob Americans in American territory?”
“I’ve heard about it; Shunan explained it to me. You bought your life with your traps and beaver. That’s how the Blackfeet look at it, Carson. If you want your property back, go to the Blackfeet for it.”
“The bale is bloody. Blackfeet were killed.” answered Carson. “I’ll keep my hair yet a while, but I mean to have the bale back.”
“Suppose it’s sent in to me for trade?” said McKay. “The Blackfeet will ask guns, powder, lead, blankets. Will you pay me the values?”
“If I get sight of it in Blackfeet hands. I’ll pay for it with burned powder,” threatened Carson. “But I’ll count my own furs, thanks. The bale is mine, with my mark on it. What’s your next word?”
HIS tone held unuttered menace in case of refusal. McKay sat steadily regarding him, eyes thoughtful.
“You shall have your bale.” he said. “Carson. I can do what all the Americans in your camp cannot do. I will send one man to Plenty Eagle’s lodge and demand the stolen bale. Plenty Eagle will give it up. If he refuses, he and his people will never get one ounce of goods from the company. The trouble will cost you nothing. On the contrary—” McKay paused and reflected. Carson lowered his eyes to keep the flash of exultant thought from showing. To get them back—this way! To have McKay hand them over, and with them the whole empire of his seeking! Jim Bridger would roar when he heard of this. But there was to be bargaining.
“Well?” prompted Carson. “I must tell you that I’ll pay what I owe you, soon as I can do so.”
“Yes. you’re on the brigade’s books from last year. No matter. You were unfortunate. You’re still unfortunate. Carson, and I'm opening the way to better fortune. Did you get word from me that I hoped to see you here? I see you did. The company will treat you well. Here’s future and fortune for you; and Captain Shunan’s daughter is worth many bales of beaver to any man. This is what I have to say: In return for the favor I do you, will you march from rendezvous with the Hudson’s Bay for the winter hunt?”
“Why ask that?” Carson demanded. “I said that I’d pay what I owe from last year. I must get my beaver to do it.”
“I want you, Carson, but the benefit’s mutual.” said McKay. “You’re a first-class trappier, guide, agent. You stand high, among the first of them all, and plenty more will follow you into my camp. Over here, you’ll lose nothing, not even a bale of pelts. Over there, with the unorganized Americans, you’ll lose everything, including your life. You Americans don't know how to get along with the Indians—”
The implication struck fire.
“Yes,” said Carson drily. “I heard the talk of your agent and that dancing girl when the Blackfeet sat in council. 1 heard the talk you sent about white beaver and the rest of the nonsense.”
“Wait, man!” broke in McKay sharply. “The Hudson’s Bay Company cannot control the dreams of Indians. I myself laughed at Plenty Eagle when I heard about white beaver medicine. I sent no such talk.”
“Right.” Carson admitted. “But you knew of it. You’re back of it.”
McKay gestured. He took the accusation to heart deeply—too deeply by a good deal, thought Carson.
“But if the sign should really be found. Carson—look out! You know what it’d mean. After all, why would the Indians fight Americans? Because you take. You give only blows or dishonest goods. Why do your people bring their traps and quarrels across into the company’s territory, anyhow?”
“Company’s?” Carson’s brows went up. “As much ours as yours.”
“No. There’s only one American trading post west of the mountains. Fort Hall, out there on the upper Snake. And it’s starving for lack of trade. The Hudson’s Bay has many posts, is supreme in the Oregon country from coast to mountains. Within a year, Carson, you’ll see the company’s flag flying from Fort Hall.”
“And on east of the mountains next, you figure.”
McKay, who had spoken with unwanted vigor, now tempered his assurance with a candid, friendly laugh.
“Well, that’s only another step. And if the United States can't hold all that country from the Indians, better give over the bad bargain to people who can. However, you've heard my proposition. What’s your answer?”
“I’ll think it over,” said Carson, to see what would happen. To his surprise. McKay only nodded pleasantly.
“It’ll take me several days to get the bale,” the factor said. “I’ll keep it and apply the pelts on your account, or shall we forget the account altogether?”
Carson reddened a little.
“Neither one, McKay. Get the bale, if you will, and then hold it for me. We’ll not forget the account. I'm on your books. You know I'm good for it. I’ll settle the debt, but I’ll settle it in my own way, thanks.”
“Right, then. I’ll get the bale for you, Carson.”
They parted pleasantly, with mutual respect and esteem.
Here was Shunan in his path, not to be dodged. Carson drew rein.
“You have a good talk with Captain McKay?” came the hearty words. “You get your beaver soon, hein? All is arrange', then?”
“Not all, Shunan. I've something to arrange with you,” Carson said steadily. “You’re to let Singing Bird alone. Understand?”
“Hein? Captain McKay, he say that?”
“I say it, with straight tongue.”
“You threaten Shunan? You are ungrateful. If you want the squaw, why don't you take her? She not speak to you. Somebody is in my lodge to take the shine off that leetle squaw, somebody who wants you—”
Carson rode on. But the rolling voice followed him. like an arrow between his shoulders.
“Ho! I do what I please, today, tomorrow! You seek trouble, you get it!”
He made no reply, but rode on.
Now to talk with Singing Bird.