Chapter 16 #2
On her left and right, she was greeted by the sight of rows and rows of log houses, though directly in front of her stood a larger, more magnificent home, with a smaller building to its right.
No grass grew here. It was all dirt, though there was an American flag raised on a pole, which waved at them from the center of the parade ground.
There, however, the pleasantries ended. Far from being the refreshing scene Marietta had envisioned upon her return to civilization, she cringed.
There wasn’t a single head that wasn’t turned her way. Moreover, men of all sorts and sizes were rushing at her from every possible direction of the fort. Some were pulling on pants as they ran, others shirts and coats.
All shared one common trait. They gaped at her.
Doubtfully, Marietta said to those who had assembled, “Is there anyone at this post who can help me? As I have already said, I became lost from my party, and these Indians found me and brought me here. But I search for a man…a trapper. I need to speak to someone.”
No one answered her. It was as if the shock of her presence had momentarily startled them out of speech.
At last, a short, balding man came rushing toward her. From his waistcoat and vest, to his brisk, no-nonsense manner, Marietta fathomed at once that this man was most likely a clerk.
He said, “The bourgeois, Mr. Laidlaw, has requested I bring you to him, miss. Follow me.”
“Yes, thank you, Mister…?”
“Smith,” supplied the man.
“Thank you, Mr. Smith.”
Mr. Smith spared a glance over his shoulder and smiled at Marietta. But espying the Indians, he ordered, “The Injuns cannot come with you, Miss… What did you say your last name was?”
“Welsford,” replied Marietta. “And it is Lady Welsford, sir. But there is a problem.”
“A problem?”
“Yes, you see, Mr. Smith, these Indians are with me. I would ask that they be allowed to accompany me everywhere I go. Mr. Coyote, here, saved my life.”
“Saved your life, did he?”
“That’s correct, sir, he did,” said Marietta. “Surely in light of this, you might understand my position on this matter. Besides, Yellow Swan is my maid, and I will require her attention.”
“Well…” the man hesitated, “…all right. Just this once I reckon we can forgo the rules. Follow me.”
Picking up her skirt, Marietta prepared to do exactly as he said. Ignoring the stares from all around her, she and her party paraded across the grounds to the house of Mr. Laidlaw, Fort Pierre’s bourgeois, a title that, in this land and at this time, was much like a king.
“What a lovely dinner this was, Mr. Laidlaw.” Marietta patted her lips with a white linen napkin.
Sitting forward in the dining chair, she said, “It has been a long while since I have been treated to real butter and cream. I assume this comes to the table via the large herd of cows I saw when I first approached the fort.”
“That it does, lass,” said Laidlaw, a fair-headed Scotsman who seemed to favor long sideburns and whiskers. “That it does.”
Marietta nodded, and Laidlaw continued. “Now tell me, lass, what has happened to ye? How have ye come to be here in these western plains?”
Marietta placed both hands in her lap, pausing briefly. “I traveled here originally with members of royalty, led by Princess Sierra, heir to the throne of Baden-Baden. There was a fire aboard our steamship, the Diana, and I became parted from the princess.”
“Terrible transportation they are, those ships,” observed Laidlaw. “’Tis a wonder ye are here in one piece, lass, for ’tis a savage land, these western plains.”
“True,” agreed Marietta, “yet this land is also a country of beauty.”
Laidlaw frowned but appeared to have nothing of import to add to this last comment. “Come, ye are safe now. Whatever ordeal ye suffered is over.”
“Thank you, Mr. Laidlaw. I appreciate your kind words. However, I have need to ask you for information, if I might. I search for someone, a man.”
“Do ye, lass?”
“Yes, sir. He is rather beastly. Of large frame and ill temper, he is of haggard appearance, long, dark hair, beard and mustache. Have you knowledge of this man?”
“And why would ye be lookin’ for him?”
“It is…” Marietta hesitated. “It is personal, sir, but of one thing I can say. We suspect that this…beast has killed many people.”
“We?”
“Mr. Coyote, Yellow Swan and myself.”
“Ah,” said Laidlaw. “The Indians.”
“Yes, sir. The Indians.”
“Troubling company ye be keepin’, lass…”
Marietta placed her napkin beside her plate—an item which was made of the finest china.
Trembling slightly, she thrust out her chin.
“Forgive me, Mr. Laidlaw, if I seem impertinent. Though I understand your house rules, and though I respect your right to entertain whomever you choose in your own home, I do not agree with you on the subject of Indian character. I have found Mr. Coyote and Yellow Swan to be true friends. In fact, I would not be here now were it not for Mr. Coyote. And I am disheartened he must wait outside whilst you entertain me with breakfast.”
“A necessary precaution, lass. Very necessary here in a fort like this.”
“Perhaps so, and I do not mean to tell you your business,” she said. “But I am disappointed.”
Laidlaw responded with no more than a severe look in her direction, and Marietta decided it might be best to change the topic of conversation. “Perhaps we should discuss the matter at hand, sir. Have you knowledge of the man I seek?”
Laidlaw drew his brows together in a frown. “I must ask ye again, lass. Why do ye search for him?”
Marietta set her glance to Laidlaw’s, staring straight into his hazel eyes. Could she trust this Scotsman? Perhaps. But dare she chance it? She asked, playing for time, “Do you want the truth, or a lesser version of what has happened?”
“I’ll take the truth, if ye please.”
“Very well,” said Marietta, biting down on her lip. “I have…lost a family heirloom, sir, and I have reason to believe this man either has it or has knowledge of where I might find it.”
“And what is this heirloom, lass?”
“A…a…” Marietta, who rarely had cause to tell great fibs, glanced quickly around the table, her gaze alighting on a diamond-and-gold napkin holder. “A brooch, sir.”
“A mere brooch?” Laidlaw frowned.
“It is an uncommon one, Mr. Laidlaw. It is…” she hesitated, “…made of gold and…diamonds.” She smiled.
“It must be an uncommon one, for certain,” said Laidlaw, “if it brings ye here in search of it.”
Marietta gulped and glanced down at her lap. “It is all I have left of my family, sir.” Amazed at her audacious behavior, she drew a deep breath. “This man either has my brooch or knows where it is. And so you see, I have great need to find him.”
“I understand. Then ye dunna seek him to take his life?”
“No, sir, I don’t. Although I am not certain he doesn’t deserve to die. We believe he killed the bourgeois and company at the LaPrenier and Acme Trading Post.”
“LaPrenier and Acme are dead?”