The answer to Winona’s question came much sooner than she expected. The Minneconjous had hinted she would know in a month, but it was only a few days after her interrogation by Runs Against that several scouts thundered into the village at a gallop and shortly thereafter a delegation consisting of the high chief, Thunder Horn, Penis, Long Forelock, and several other notables showed up outside her lodge.
Butterfly had taken to staying with Winona day and night. Winona was in great discomfort much of the time and was grateful for the old woman’s help. She feared the baby would be born much sooner than she had counted on, her fear compounded because Thunder Horn had made it clear he intended to take her into his lodge after the child came.
On this day, a bright sunny morning with a light breeze blowing from the northwest, Winona had just laid down after taking a short stroll to relieve cramps in her legs when masculine voices alerted her to the visit. She sat up but needed Butterfly’s assistance to stand. Holding her hands on her belly, she went out.
‘‘Woman, we need you now,” Runs Against signed without preliminaries. “You will come with us and do as we say or you will be punished severely.”
“Excuse me, great chief,” Butterfly surprised everyone by insinuating a comment. “She did not sleep well last night and has been in pain all morning long. Could you not use her another time?”
Runs Against raised a hand as if to cuff her and Winona moved between them. “How dare you meddle in our business, old woman,” he signed gruffly. “Go back inside and do woman’s work and leave men’s work to men.”
Butterfly sadly bowed her head, then obeyed.
Thunder Horn moved forward to grasp Winona’s elbow and steered her across the village. He, like all the warriors, had an anxious air about him, as if an event of crucial significance was about to take place.
Winona resented their treatment of Butterfly but did not provoke them. She had enough problems. She felt queasy, and the baby was kicking hard every so often. It was all she could do to keep her spine straight.
Runs Against overtook them on the right, Penis on the left. “This is important,” the former signed. “You are going to translate for us.
You must translate exactly. Nothing must go wrong. Nothing at all.”
“I will do my best,” Winona signed.
“We will tolerate no mistakes,” Runs Against warned. “Should anything go wrong, anything at all, we will hold you to blame.”
Winona was guided toward a flat, rocky point jutting into the sluggish river. Many warriors were already there, scattered for scores of yards both up and down the shore. She was startled to see none were armed with any weapons except sheathed knives. She was even more surprised to behold a large red blanket had been spread out near the water, its ends weighted down with rocks. A battered tin pot containing pemmican and venison rested in the middle beside a water-skin.
Thunder Horn brought Winona to the blanket and gestured for her to sit. “Keep this in mind too,” he signed as she did. “Soon you will be my woman. Should you humiliate me today by failing to do as we want, Runs Against’s punishment will be as nothing compared to mine. As your husband I will have the right to beat you to near death if I so want.”
The bestial gleam in his eyes assured Winona more than words possibly could that he meant every word. “I will do my best,” she repeated, “but it would help if I knew what I was to do before I did it.”
“And give you time to think of a way to trick us?” Thunder Horn responded. “We do not trust you enough yet to let you talk as you please.” He pointed at Long Forelock. “And if you should decide to betray us, just remember he will let us know the moment you say anything you are not supposed to say.”
Winona glanced at Long Forelock, who had the look of a man who dearly desired to be anywhere other than where he was. He smiled at her, a sickly sort of smile no one else saw.
Suddenly a warrior far down the river yipped and all the Minneconjous tensed. Runs Against, Penis, and several others stepped right to the water’s edge. They appeared nervous, fussing with their buckskins or their hair.
Completely bewildered, Winona stared at the bend in the river everyone else was staring at. She saw the warrior at the far end of the line smile and wave like he was welcoming a long lost friend. A minute later the reason appeared, leaving her stupefied.
Around the bend came a bull boat. A popular transport for whites, bull boats varied in size depending on the number of buffalo hides used in their construction. The hides were stretched over a circular frame of pliable willow limbs and then smoked over a small fire. To render the craft waterproof, bear fat was smeared over the outer surfaces.
This one held three trappers, judging by their buckskins, and their gear. They held rifles and were eyeing the warrior at the end of the line with suspicion. Not until they cleared the bend did they see the rest of the Minneconjous, and one of the whites immediately worked his paddle, bringing the boat to a stop.
All the Minneconjous smiled and waved to demonstrate their peaceful intent. Some gestured toward the rocky point, trying to persuade the trappers to go on.
Runs Against looked sternly at Winona. “Yell to them. Tell them we mean them no harm, that we are their friends. Ask them to pow-wow with us.”
“And what happens when they step ashore?” Winona asked. Under no circumstances would she be party to wholesale butchery, no matter how severely she was punished. “Will you rub them out?”
“Had we wanted their hair, they would have been dead when our scouts first set eyes on them yesterday morning,” Thunder Horn signed. He jabbed her in the side with his thumb. “Now do as we say and be quick about it or I will bloody your nose!”
Winona still had no idea what the Minneconjous were up to, but she was fairly sure they wouldn’t have gone to so much effort to lure the whites into a trap, not when they could pick the trappers off at their leisure from the riverbank. And, too, the Minneconjous wouldn’t greet the whites virtually unarmed as they were if they planned to attack.
Advancing, Winona raised a hand and called out, “Hello, the boat! I am the wife of Nate King, a trapper! I must spell my name for you: W-I-N-O-N-A. These are Minneconjous. Be on your guard!” She looked at Long Forelock and smiled sweetly.
Runs Against likewise looked at the warrior. “What did she say?” he demanded.
Long Forelock licked his lips. “She told them that we are their friends and they have nothing to fear.”
The three trappers were huddled in the bull boat, talking. A man with a bushy red beard faced around and put a hand to his mouth. “Minneconjous, you say? They usually kill whites. What the devil is going on?”
“I do not know,” Winona shouted, “but I would not try to flee if I were you. This river is too narrow, too slow. They would easily catch you on horseback and wipe you out.”
“What do they want?”
“For you to parley with them,” Winona explained.
“What about?”
“They haven’t told me yet.”
Again the three trappers consulted. “We don’t like this one bit,” the man with the red beard informed her, “but I don’t see as where we have any choice.” He paused. “Are you their captive?”
“I am.”
“Hang on. We’re coming in.”
Runs Against was a nervous wreck. Shifting back and forth from one leg to the other like an indecisive grasshopper, he inquired in irritation, “Why are you saying so much? Our request was simple. You should only say the words I tell you to say.”
“Do I keep silent when they ask questions?” Winona retorted. “If I do, they will suspect something is wrong.”
“What questions?” Runs Against simmered.
“They wanted to know why you want to hold a pow-wow. I told them I did not know.”
“Good. Good.” Runs Against patted her arm as a man would pat a child or a pet that behaved correctly. “Keep doing as you are doing, but always make your answers short.”
The bull boat glided toward the point. Two of the men held rifles to their shoulders and warily regarded the Minneconjous while the man with the red beard paddled. When the boat was close enough, he set down the paddle, lifted a Hawken, and vaulted smoothly over the side into the knee-deep water. Splashing onto dry land, he transferred the Hawken to the crook of his elbow and turned to Winona. Astonishment overcame him on discovering her condition. “I’ll be damned!” he blurted.
“You’ll be dead if you don’t keep your wits about you,” Winona said while smiling to give the impression she was greeting him warmly. “I am supposed to tell you only what they want me to, but I’ll add as I see fit.”
The man nodded in admiration. “You’ve got gumption, lady.” He studied the Minneconjous while remarking, “I heard you say your name is Winona King. That right?”
“It is.”
“We heard about your husband at Jake and Sam’s shop in St. Louis, where I bought this rifle here.”
Winona knew he referred to the Hawken brothers.
“They spoke right highly of him,” the man went on. “Said he’s one of the best, along with Bridger, Carson, and McNair.” He calmly scanned the warriors lining the river. “I’m Reed, by the way. Adam Reed. Just say the word and we’ll try to free you from their clutches.”
“You dare not,” Winona cautioned. She’d taken a strong liking to this brash stranger who so gallantly offered to aid her. “You are badly outnumbered. They would cut us down before we reached your boat.”
“I don’t see any with rifles or bows,” Reed said.
“Not out in the open,” Winona said. “But knowing them as well as I do, I wouldn’t put it past them to have warriors in hiding nearby, watching us as we speak.”
“Didn’t think of that.”
Runs Against had abided all the chatter he was going to. Sidling next to Winona, he signed while grinning idiotically, “You talk too much again, woman. What is he saying? What have you told him?”
“He wanted to know if you could be trusted. I told him you could.” Winona cheerfully lied. “And again he asked to know the reason for the pow-wow.”
“Say that all will be made clear after we have eaten and smoked a pipe,” Runs Against directed. “Tell him to have his friends come on shore, too. Tell him they have no need of their rifles. They are our guests.”
Winona faced Adam Reed and relayed the chief’s words, throwing in, “It’s wiser if your friends stay in the boat. They can cover you if trouble breaks out. And whatever you do, don’t set your rifles aside.”
“Don’t worry. We won’t. As for Tim and Matt, they stay right where they are until I know what’s what.”
Runs Against was unable to hide his annoyance at the answer but he smiled nonetheless and signed, “Very well. Have him sit with us.”
The chief, Penis, Thunder Horn, and Long Forelock all took seats on one side of the blanket. Winona knelt near the tin pot. Adam Reed, Hawken across his legs, sat on the other side. An uncomfortable tension hung thickly around them
“Have him eat and drink his fill,” Runs Against commanded. “Impress on him that we are his friends. He has come in peace, he will be allowed to go in peace. Assure him of this until he understands it is true.”
Winona complied. “But I wouldn’t believe a word this old bastard says,” she concluded.
Reed chuckled, then took a big bite out of a piece of jerky. “Where’s your husband?” he asked, mouth full of the salted meat.
“We were separated during a storm,” Winona said. “The last I saw, he was searching for our son along the Yellowstone.”
“We’re heading west ourselves,” Reed said. “Since you won’t let us take you with us, tell me how to go about finding Nate and I’ll try and get word to him.”
Before Winona could offer advice, the chief nudged her.
“It is time to speak at length of the reason we invited these whites to visit with us,” Runs Against signed. “I want you to ask if they are trappers.”
Reed confirmed they were.
Runs Against rubbed his palms. “Ask them if they would like to have more beaver hides than they can carry in ten trips to the white man’s land.”
“What is he up to?” Reed wondered on hearing the query. “Of course we would. But it would take years to raise that many.”
Again, and for the next several minutes, Winona translated without embellishment. She was as surprised as Adam Reed when the ulterior motive of the Minneconjous became clear.
“For three men, yes,” Runs Against signed. “Not for a whole tribe. Our warriors could make you rich with beaver. The river to the west is thick with them because we seldom kill them and we have not let any other whites trap there.”
“Why would you do this for us?” Reed asked.
“Because we would like something in return,” Runs Against said. “We hear that whites like to trade, to barter. So do we. In exchange for the beaver, you would give us something.”
“What?”
“Before we get to that, I would like to know if a story I heard last spring is true.” Runs Against gazed fondly at the Hawken, scratched his chin, and seemed to change subjects without thinking. “You whites always have very fine guns.”
Reed, his confusion showing, boasted, “Our guns are the best there are. They’re superior to anything the Canadians or Mexicans have. And they’re a far sight better than the fusees the Hudson’s Bay people offer for plews.”
“This I have noticed,” Runs Against agreed. “With such weapons, it is no mystery how you whites have been able to penetrate so deep into the mountains after beaver, defying the Blackfeet and the Utes in their own territory.”
“They know better than to court lead poisoning,” Reed said smugly.
The chief played with the pemmican in his hand a moment. “I have lived a long life, white man. Over the years I have seen many changes. When I was a boy, no one had ever seen a white. When I reached manhood, we saw them only once in a while. Now, your kind shows up everywhere, with more and more coming all the time.”
“And there will be more yet.”
“So I have heard. And yet, if not for your guns, your people would have been driven back to their own land with their tails tucked between their legs long ago. Is this not true?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. We fight for what we want.”
“So do we,” Runs Against signed. “We fight the Blackfeet to the north and the Pawnees to the south and the Cheyennes to the southwest, and we do it just to stay alive.”
Here Winona could not resist mentioning, “He is not being completely honest. The Minneconjou, like most other tribes, fight because they like to fight. They go on the warpath to count coup, not because they are forced to do it.”
Reed nodded and said, “I’ve been trapping four years now, so I know a little about Injun ways.” He looked at the bull boat. “I knew better than to try this shortcut west. I’d heard about the Minneconjou camping in the area every so often, but I figured I could sneak through their country without being caught.” Reed sighed. “Never buck fate. It’ll get you in hot water every time.”
The chief was bothered by their extended discussion. ‘‘What are you saying now?” he signed at Winona.
“The white man says he hopes there will come a day when all peoples might live in peace,” she said, putting her own wish in the trapper’s mouth.
“Then he is a fool,” Runs Against signed, and swiftly went on, “but do not tell him that! Instead, say that there can be no peace for the Minneconjou until we can protect ourselves properly.”
“Tell this old buzzard to quit beating around the bush,” Reed chafed. “What the hell does he want from us?”
“Guns,” Runs Against revealed. “We want to trade beaver pelts for rifles and pistols. All the hides you can carry for all the guns we can carry.”
Here Reed hesitated. “Do you figure he’ll fly off the handle if I tell him no to his face?”
“He might,” Winona answered. “Better to humor him.” She took the initiative, signing, “The white man says your offer interests him. But there are problems. For one thing, how would he bring so many guns all the way across the prairie? The load would be too heavy for canoes or bull boats.”
“He could pack the guns on horses,” Runs Against proposed.
“It would take too many for only three whites to handle. And they would be easy prey for other tribes.”
“Then he could bring the guns in small lots,” Runs Against was undaunted. “Just so we get them all.”
Winona elaborated for the trapper’s sake. “Play along with him,” she said. “Agree to everything. When you’re long gone you can laugh at his expense.”
“All right. Tell the conniving bastard I accept his offer. Tell him I’ll think of some way to bring in the guns.”
The Minneconjous were elated by the reply. They chatted animatedly until the chief signed again.
“There is one more thing. We would like him to sign a paper such as the whites use when they trade with one another so he will be bound by his word.”
“Where the devil did they ever hear about contracts?” Reed marveled, and laughed. “Sure, if that’s what they want. There’s no need to let them know that as far as the law is concerned, any deal we work out isn’t binding.” He glanced at Winona, his brow knitting. ‘‘And while you’re at it, tell him I have a condition of my own. You come with us or the deal is off.”
“I can’t tell him that,” Winona said.
“Why not?”
“He will not take it well.”
“Let me worry about how he takes it. If he wants guns badly enough, he’ll agree.”
“It is too risky.”
Runs Against slapped her arm. “What does he want? Why do you argue?”
“Tell him,” Adam Reed insisted.
Caught in the middle, Winona rashly gave in even though her intuition blared a siren wail not to do so. “The white man says he agrees to all your terms provided you agree to one of his.”
“Which is?” Runs Against asked.
“He wants to take me with him.”
All four Minneconjou leaders became as still as ice. A deathly pallor crept up Runs Against’s face. He glared at Reed, then at the two men in the bull boat. “And why would he ask such a thing?” he demanded.
“He likes me,” Winona fibbed for Reed’s benefit. “He thinks it would be of great benefit for him to have a woman who can speak the white tongue and use sign.”
“Does he indeed?” Runs Against gave the pot of pemmican an angry poke with his toe and said some words in Sioux that brought scowls to the faces of the other warriors.
“I don’t like this,” Winona said to the trapper. “You must get in your boat and leave, now, before it’s too late.”
“He won’t lay a finger on us,” Reed declared. “Not and ruin his chance of getting his hands on some guns.”
Runs Against looked at Winona. “I knew you would try to deceive us. Just as I knew Long Forelock does not speak the white tongue well enough to catch you.”
“I have not tried,” Winona said, but was rudely hushed by a barked.
“Do not lie to me, Shoshone!” Runs Against railed. “I read your faces. Either this one knows you, or he knows your white husband, or you have told him about yourself and he seeks to save you.” Leaping to his feet, he turned his spite on the trapper. “You were a fool, white man! Other whites will come along, and eventually we will find one to do our bidding. But it will not be you!”
“Run!” Winona cried to Adam.
But it was too late. The chief made a chopping motion, and even as Reed pushed upright several arrows thudded into his chest. The men in the bull boat raised their rifles, took aim, and died under a shower of shafts pouring from the undergrowth. One of them screamed briefly as he fell. As swiftly as that, it was over.
Winona began to rise, to step to Reed, when fingers gouged into her arm and she was yanked off the ground and shaken until her teeth rattled.
“I warned you!” Thunder Horn signed. “I told you what would happen if you humiliated me.” He shoved, sending her stumbling sideways.
It was useless to concoct an explanation. Winona saw their relentless fury and retreated, fearing for her baby. She bumped into a brave standing behind her, and before she could go around him, Thunder Horn was on her.
“You are not mine yet so I cannot give you the full punishment you deserve. But I can make you sorry for your treachery. Very, very sorry.”
And with that Thunder Horn proceeded to drag Winona off by the roots of her hair into the village.