CHAPTER ONE #2
"Dey be Pieds Noirs, Mademoiselle."
"Pieds Noirs? Do you know the English name for the tribe?"
"De Blackfeet, Mademoiselle."
"The Blackfeet? The Tigers of the Plains?"
"Oui, Mademoiselle."
"How strange they should be so well dressed," she said. "I have heard the Blackfeet guard their land well and will kill any white man they find in their territory. It seems rather savage, and yet, to look at them…they seem almost stately."
"Oui, Mademoiselle. De Blackfeet look so, but rob…I am rob by the Pieds Noirs too much! De Pieds Noirs wild. Eet has been so since Monsieur Lewis and Monsieur Clark kilt a man of de Pieds Noirs, de Blackfoot Injin."
"It is good you have told me about them. I shall do all I can to keep them distant from me, and shall make a mental note to never go into their country."
"Indeed, you shall not," agreed Thomas Sutter, who was Laylah's fiancé.
He placed his arm around her waist and drew her in close to his chest. "Instead," he continued, "we shall return to St. Louis as soon as your visit to this land is finished.
And, once there, we shall marry. Where would you like to live, m'dear. Here? Or in St. Louie?"
"I am uncertain, yet, as you know. I love my home in St. Louis, but there is some undefined aspect about this land that causes me to feel peaceful, as though this is my home.
" She sighed. "But, we don't have to decide now, do we?
After all, we have yet to explore the woods and plains in the country.
Indeed, if the intriguing scent of the autumn leaves and the atmosphere in this country is a sample of the beauty to be found here, I admit to being captivated by it.
" Stepping out of his embrace, she chanced to give Thomas a flirty smile from over her shoulder as she laughed up at him.
"Excuse me, Thomas, for I must put my attention on business.
My father has asked me to look over the business transactions we've had today.
As you know, I have an affinity for numbers and often help him with his accounting. "
"Shall I assist you with it?"
"Only if you please. This will take me but a moment." She scanned down the transactions that had occurred so far for the day, committing each sale to memory so she might recount them later to her father.
As the daughter of Robert McIntosh—one of Fort Union's partners—she had unconsciously made herself into a business asset when her father had discovered she could memorize a page of numbers quickly and remember them again at will.
And so, according to her father, her talents were to be kept within the family of traders, thus her upcoming marriage to Thomas, who, though a young man, was already a junior partner in this business.
Of course his family had helped obtain his status, for they had financed this fort in part, as well as the trading post, Fort William.
Although one could argue her upcoming marriage was one of convenience, she believed this was not entirely true.
She had fallen under Thomas' spell almost from the first moment she'd met him.
His fine manners and his tall, good looks had combined to urge her to say "yes" to his proposal of marriage.
That her father had encouraged her to wed Thomas had also swayed her decision, for the marriage would tie their families financially.
Her mother had been silent concerning her daughter's upcoming marriage. True, she had shown no negative emotions, though there had been no positive encouragement, either.
Her younger sister, Amelia, was, of course, excited about the upcoming marriage. But, Amelia was young and her nature tended to be na?ve at best, and, in truth, she was prone to question very little in life.
Laylah sighed, thinking back to the two young Blackfoot men.
Untamed they might be, but it had been a crowning feather in her father's cap that he had convinced the Blackfeet to come to Fort Union to trade; especially since the Blackfeet held the reputation for being the most feared tribe of Indians on the plains.
Of course, the Blackfoot men had objected at first, for they hadn't wished to make the long journey to Fort Union. Yet, here they were.
She frowned. It was hard not to notice the two Blackfoot men, since both were young and handsome in an exotic and uncultivated way. But, she put thoughts about them from her mind. Good-looking though they might be, they were still Indian, and, therefore, dangerous.
Besides, she would never see them again. On this thought, she put her speculations to rest and, having committed the page of numbers to memory, turned around to hug her fiancé.
****
Eagle Heart despaired of ever coming to know what had happened to his brother.
No one at the fort seemed to remember seeing a man who looked much like Eagle Heart, himself.
Yet, he couldn't be certain what these people said, since it was almost impossible to communicate to the whites.
Why no one at this fort had learned the language used everywhere on the plains—the language of gestures—was a mystery.
He wished he could make inquiries of the other Indians at the fort, for they were familiar with the gesture language.
But, he couldn't. These other Indians—the Crows and Assiniboines—were his traditional enemies.
Not that he was afraid of them. It was simply that, being enemies, they were honor-bound to lie to him.
Somehow he would have to make himself understood by these white men. There was no other way.
So, it was to this end, he stepped into the room used for trade.
It was a sunshiny day on this month of "the leaves falling," and, while a part of him hoped She-steals-my-breath, the beautiful white woman, might be present, another part of him dismissed her from his thoughts.
She could mean nothing to him. With a force of will, he put her out of his mind.
Yet, as he stepped up to the trading counter, he saw that she stood on the white man's side of the table. Looking up, she stared straight at him, and, though it was forbidden for a Blackfoot woman to face him so boldly, he was yet reminded how beautiful a pair of green eyes could be….
****
"Mr. Larpenteur, I believe he is asking you for information about either his friend or his brother. I'm not certain which it is."
The trader frowned down at her. However, she didn't flinch. "How do you know dees, Mademoiselle?"
"My father," she said, glancing downward, "hired an older Indian gentleman from one of the Eastern tribes to instruct both me and my younger sister on this language of gestures.
He insisted on our learning it before we were allowed to make this trip into the North Country.
He said if anything bad ever happened to us, we would at least be able to make ourselves understood.
Shall I ask this man what it is he is seeking? "
"Oui, Mademoiselle."
She nodded and, inhaling deeply, brought her right hand up to ask the Indian, "Question, who is it you are seeking?"
"Halt!" he said in gestures, bringing his right hand up, instead of down, for emphasis. "I do not speak to women." He added a frown and looked so sternly at her, she felt faint in reaction.
But, she didn't faint. Instead, she gulped and, looking down and away from him, signed, "No one here speaks the language of gestures. If you wish to be understood you will have to communicate to either me or my younger sister. If you prefer to talk to my sister, I will fetch her."
She chanced a quick glance up at this man who towered over her.
Why, he must be over six feet tall. He was also outrageously handsome in a wild sort of way: black, straight hair, which was decorated with a single feather hung from a braid on the right side of his face; it was his only hair ornament.
He had pulled a portion of his bangs forward and had cut them so a part of them fell down over the center of his forehead, as seemed to be the custom in this untamed land.
He still wore the handsome, white clothing she had seen him wear a few days previously, and up close she could see and admire the blue, white and yellow circle sewn onto his shirt.
It was placed in the middle of the buckskin clothing, was level with his chest and looked to be made of porcupine quills, as well as beads.
Rows of colorfully sewn porcupine quills of the same colors decorated the outer portion of his sleeves, while white fringe, situated next to the porcupine quills, draped from those same sleeves.
She noted that some of the fringe was also composed of black hair.
She shivered to think of the reason why this kind of hair ornamented his shirt.
Fierce though he might be, there was an unknown quality about him that drew her to him.
His eyes were black, his nose straight and slightly aquiline, but not overly so.
His lips were full, and the color of his skin was tan, not red, though there might have been a slight tint of red running beneath the outer layer of his skin.
He wore no paint as did most of the Indians here at the post. This observation eased her nerves a little, for she had heard it said that the Indians painted themselves only when going to war.
Still, she shivered at the thought of any man having to go to war with an Indian like this.
But, he was answering her question, and she gave his hand gestures her full attention.
He said, "I see I have startled you. There is no threat or insult meant to you; rather, a man should not speak to a woman who is not his wife.
To do so abuses her standing with her people and can cause a man's woman to be jealous, also. "
"You are married, then?" Laylah signed, then gulped and looked away from him. Why had she asked him this?
But, he seemed unoffended and was responding to the question. "I am not," he stated by means of the gestures. "But, I believe you are."
She shook her head and signed, "I am not yet married but am soon to be."
He nodded, then signed, "If you do not object to the possible harm speaking to me might bring to your reputation, I do have questions no one has been able to answer. Do you object?"
She shook her head, "No."
"This is good. I am seeking my brother," he signed.
"He looks much as I do, but is older than I.
He came here a few months ago with a party seeking trade.
The others returned home, but my brother was not with them, and none of them knew what had happened to him.
My family worries about him. Besides trade, it is why I am here. He was last seen at this post."
"What is his name?" she signed.
"Chases-the-enemy."
She nodded, then asked Larpenteur, "Sir, do you know a Blackfoot man called Chases-the-enemy?"
" Oui, Mademoiselle. He ees Blackfoot chief."
"Chases-the-enemy is this gentleman's brother, and he is trying to discover what has happened to his kin. People from his tribe say he was last seen here. Do you know any stories concerning him that might indicate where he could have gone or why he didn't return home with the rest of his party?"
"Oui, Mademoiselle. Der be here a Crow girl from de West called Little Dove. He stole her. He is to be gone…with Crow girl. Her family very much…angry. Go after."
"You're certain of this?"
"Oui, Mademoiselle."
Laylah nodded. Then, turning toward the Blackfoot gentleman, said aloud, "Mr. Larpenteur"—she pointed to the clerk then continued in sign—"says your brother stole Little Dove, a Crow girl, and left. Her family went after him."
He nodded. "When?" he signed.
Laylah turned to Larpenteur. "When did this take place?"
"I am to tell you, Mademoiselle, eet be five month. Maybe he captured."
"This happened about five months ago," she signed. "Mr. Larpenteur"—she pointed again to the clerk—"says your brother and the girl might have been captured."
With his hands flat and extended outward, he sent them forward and toward her in a sweeping motion, effectively saying, "Thank you."
She nodded, then signed, "What are you called? My name is Laylah." She spoke her name aloud.
But, he didn't answer. Instead, he reached upward to the feather in his hair, loosened it, put it in his palm and extended it toward her.
When she reached out to take it from him, he closed his other hand over hers, and, when she gazed up at him, he nodded and gave her the understanding the feather was now hers.
Then he smiled at her and said, "Nitsíniiyi'taki, Aakíí-ikamo'si-niistówa-siitámssin," and Laylah thought the earth might have moved beneath her feet. She didn't know what to do.
The timbre of his voice was low, baritone, pleasant, and it, added to his touch, affected her oddly. Her entire body was shivering, but whether from fear or a reaction to his words, his touch or his voice, she didn't know.
She did, however, accept the feather. Moreover, she thought she might come to treasure it. Always, it might remind her of a handsome Blackfoot warrior who had once shown her kindness.