Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
An accordion and a banjo accompanied the dancers.
The traders, dressed in their very best, were lined up, one after the other, each awaiting a chance to claim a dance with the newest person to their post, Marietta.
In a corner of the same room, several other men were engaged in a game of cards, while another few were engrossed over a chess match.
On the dance floor were several dancers, company contracted men and their Indian wives.
Marietta, in the arms of one of the traders, was stepping around the dance floor as though she had been born to it.
It was evening now, but earlier in the day Marietta had extracted some gold from her purse and bought a ream of green satin from the trader’s store, as well as some cotton fabric.
These had gone to make a new dress, chemise, petticoats and drawers.
Plus, she had purchased a brand-new corset.
In truth, she was astonished at the riches contained at this post, and it had been a pleasure to shop at the storehouse.
She and Yellow Swan had spent the day making the dress Marietta wore this very evening.
Grey Coyote was not in attendance, since the dance was being held in the house of the bourgeois, who dictated a firm rule that no Indian man could ever be admitted. Since arriving at Fort Pierre two days ago, Marietta had neither seen nor heard from Grey Coyote.
Mr. Laidlaw had informed her that Grey Coyote had been given a bed with his contracted employees, but Marietta had not been able to confirm this as true.
At best, she suspected that Grey Coyote wasn’t here, that being a scout, he had found a way to leave the fort as easily as he entered it. Perhaps he had gone on to find the trail of the man he sought, leaving Marietta safe behind the walls of the fort.
But this thought caused her to brood. Did she want to be safe behind these walls? If she were to be truthful to herself, she would have to admit to longing to be out there on the prairie with Grey Coyote, instead of stuck in here being treated like a much-cherished pet.
Besides, wasn’t she a part of his vision? Didn’t she have a right to accompany Grey Coyote? Indeed, it was fast becoming her consideration that Grey Coyote was being insensitive…if only by excluding her. The more she turned over the thought in her mind, the stronger the feeling became.
At last, the music ended. As the musicians debated what their next song might be, Marietta took advantage of the break to disengage herself from the gentleman with whom she had been dancing. She smiled up at the man. “I thank you for the dance, sir.”
The man was not a particularly handsome fellow, but he seemed kindly enough when he asked, “May I get you anything, Miss Welsford?”
“Yes, if you please. A glass of water would be most welcome.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll get it at once.”
“Thank you,” uttered Marietta softly, and the gentleman departed. Briefly, Marietta waved a handkerchief in front of her face, trying without much success to dispel the cologne the man was wearing. It was odd that the men at this post wore so many scents.
Perhaps it was to cover their body odor, which unfortunately seemed an almost impossible task. Though she knew daily bathing was not part of the American way of life, she couldn’t help comparing these men unfavorably with Grey Coyote, who seemed to relish the early-morning bath.
“May I have this next dance, Miss Welsford?”
Marietta smiled up at the next trader. “Yes, this would be nice, though someone is bringing me a glass of water. Could we wait until I’ve had some refreshment?”
“Of course,” said the man gently. “Should I go and find him? Perhaps hurry him?”
“Yes. That would be most welcome.”
With a stiff bow, the man departed, leaving Marietta alone for the first time all evening. She truly did wish for the glass of water, however. Since she hadn’t sat down all evening, she had worked up a bit of perspiration.
“Here we are, Miss Welsford,” said the gentleman, at last returning with her drink.
Marietta spun around and took the glass in hand. “I thank you kindly, sir.”
“My pleasure, Miss Welsford. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Gazing wistfully out the open window, Marietta muttered, “I would love to take a walk out in the night breeze. I am afraid I have been dancing for the past hour, and some fresh air might do me good.”
“Very well. I can accompany you, miss.”
“Yes.” Marietta offered the gentleman her gloved hand. “I would like that, Mister…?”
“Adams, miss. Allen Adams.”
She nodded, and ignoring the pointed looks from the others, Marietta left the house on the arm of Mr. Adams.
Once outside, she inhaled deeply, and, gazing up at the sky, she immediately located the Big Dipper, which of course led her glance toward the North Star. Briefly, she recalled Grey Coyote’s instructions about direction, and she smiled.
Odd, how she missed the out-of-doors. Though the bourgeois’s house was nice, she felt strangely stifled. But here, outside, she seemed to feel…at home.
The man at her side broke the silence. “It is a beautiful night, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. Listen.” She frowned and lowered her voice. “Something is wrong, Mr. Adams. Do you hear it?”
“What, miss?”
“The quiet.”
“I don’t understand, miss. Hear the quiet?”
“Yes,” she said, continuing. “These past few nights have been filled with noise—the Indian drumming and singing from the camps. It’s gone on all night.
But not tonight. Listen. There’s not a wolf howling, nor even a nighthawk squawking.
It’s quiet. Too quiet.” She turned to the man. “Do you know the cause?”
“No, ma’am, I don’t.”
“But you should, Mr. Adams,” she observed.
“One of the details I learned from the Indians is that the night should be filled with sound. If it isn’t, there is a reason, and it should be discovered, lest there is danger about.
” She glanced around the deserted courtyard. “Sir, could I beg a favor of you?”
“Yes, miss. Anything.”
“Could you please return inside and inform the bourgeois about my fear that something is wrong?”
“But—”
“Please?”
“Of course, miss. I will do so at once.”
“Thank you. It will set my mind at ease.”
After exchanging a polite smile, the man turned to do her bidding.
Again, Marietta inhaled deeply. And though the night air felt good on her lungs, she couldn’t help worrying. Was there danger, and if there were, was Grey Coyote safe?
“The Indians have broken camp,” said a low voice behind her, as Grey Coyote stepped out of the shadows. “This is why it is so silent, for the animals have run away at their approach.”
The wind rushed into her face, yet she turned quickly. “Where have you been?”
“Looking for the man we seek.”
“And have you found his trail?”
“I have.”
“Good. Good. When do we leave?”
Grey Coyote paused. “Then you are ready to go?”
“Of course I’m ready to go. Why wouldn’t I be ready to go? The sooner we get this duty over with, the sooner I can depart for England.”
He shrugged. “I had feared that perhaps the lure of your own civilization might be too much, and you would not wish to travel again. At least not as a scout.”
Marietta jerked her head sideways. “Then you feared incorrectly. I said I would help. I will help.”
He grinned at her, and reaching forward, ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. Fleetingly, she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. It felt so good.
She said, “I have missed you.”
He nodded. “I, too, have missed you.”
Music from the house filtered over the courtyard, softening the atmosphere, and Marietta swayed to the rhythm. “I have been dancing all night.”
“I know,” he replied. “I have been watching you.”
“Have you?” She smiled up at him. “Why?”
His look at her was intent. “I find you beautiful. Perhaps this is the reason. Maybe also I am a little jealous of these men who have the honor of holding you in their arms, when I can only stand in the shadows and observe.”
“Well, I believe we can remedy this immediately.”
He raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“Do you dance, Mr. Coyote?”
“Certainly, I dance. I have danced since I have been able to walk.”
“Ah, yes, of course,” she agreed. “But can you dance the white man’s dance?”
“I have done so in the past. You forget that my brother-in-law runs a trading post.”
“Yes, yes. I should have remembered. But which dance do you do?”
His glance at her was surprised. “There is more than one?”
“Undoubtedly, there is more than one. This one they’re playing now is a waltz. Do you waltz, Mr. Coyote?”
“I can try.” He stepped toward her and took her outstretched hand in his own. “Will you teach me?”
“It would be my pleasure, my husband.” Grinning up at him, she fell into his arms.
It was heavenly to touch him, to be touched by him, and he danced as though he had been born to it, keeping time to the three-quarter beat as easily as if he were walking. The moonlight shone down on them tenderly, silhouetting them against the shadows of the night.
What was it about moonlight that cast this man in such a handsome image? He had braided his hair tonight. It was the first time she had seen him with it thus, for he usually left the length of it long and unbound, and more recently, he had fixed it with clay all through it.
Dear Lord, he was probably the handsomest man she knew.
As they twirled round the shadows of the parade grounds, it was as though this place were their own private haven. Glancing up at him, smiling at him, watching him, Marietta spun into a self-evident truth that she should have admitted to herself long ago.
She loved this man.
She had probably loved him for quite a while now. She had suspected it days ago, but she hadn’t been willing to acknowledge it…not until now.
Lord help her, she felt compelled to ensure he knew it. “Mr. Coyote, I have a confession to make.”
“Do you?” he replied. “And what is that?”
“I…I am in love with you.”
His smile was pure admiration directed toward her. “I know.”
“You know? How do you know?”
“Because of who you are,” he said. “You permit me liberties. And you are not the sort of woman to do this without having love in your heart.”
She chortled, half laugh, half sigh. “I guess there’s no fooling a scout, is there?”
“One can try,” he acknowledged with a grin.
She shook her head at him. “When do we leave to find this man?”
“Tonight. Prepare Yellow Swan, and we will quit the fort as soon as the others here are settled in for the night. I will slip into your room for you.”
“Can you do that?”
He simply smiled at her.
“If you can do it, you should have come to me each night. I have a bed. Do you understand? I have a bed. We could have made love on a bed.”
“And alerted the household to what is between us,” he completed the thought.
“Have you not noticed that the bourgeois of this place does not think well of the Indian? Beware, my wife, the bourgeois here is not a stupid man. As it is, even dancing as we are, I fear we flaunt the customs of this place. He watches us even now.”
“Does he? Where?”
“From the veranda.” Grey Coyote nodded toward it.
“Very well,” she said, as they stepped around their dance floor of dirt and rocks. “I will say no more on it. But I will also be ready to leave with you this night.”
“This is good, but be very careful. It is possible you will be watched.”
“I will be careful.”
“Good.” He smiled down at her. She couldn’t help herself; she beamed right back.
William Laidlaw stepped onto the veranda for a breath of air and a smoke. Striking a match, he cupped his hands around the flame, leaning his cigar down into the glow. He detected movement to his right, in front of the clerk’s house.
Glancing toward the house, he looked, not certain about what it was he was seeing. He gazed that way again.
Good Lord. What was this? The Indian and the lass dancing, touching?
The Indian was clearly overstepping his bounds.
And what was the lass doing, allowing him to touch her?
It was possible, he supposed, that Miss Marietta felt beholden to the Indian—if the man had saved her life as she said. But, even if this were the case, Laidlaw could little understand her actions, unless…
Had the Indian already lain with the maid?
Aye, it had to be. Look at them.
The thought made him burn. An Indian with a white woman?
One of his men, Allen Adams, approached, and Laidlaw turned toward him. “Where be ye goin’, man?” asked Laidlaw.
“Oh, pardon, sir, I didn’t see you there, and I have been looking for you.”
Laidlaw nodded. “What is it ye need, Adams?”
“I have a request from the lady.”
“A request?”
“Yes, sir. She fears there is something wrong, because it is too quiet. She has asked me to tell you this.”
Again, Laidlaw nodded. “There is a great deal wrong, but ‘tis not because ‘tis quiet. Gaze out yonder, man.” He pointed.
Adams did so. “Why, ‘tis the Indian who brought Miss Welsford to the fort, is it not?”
“That it be, Adams. That it be.” Laidlaw rubbed his chin. “But I fear the lady is confused and needs reminding of who she is. She has asked me about boats to St. Louis. It seems she has great need of traveling there.”
“But there are no steamboats going to the village of St. Louis for another year.”
“Aye,” said Laidlaw. “This is why I think yerself and a few other men should step in and be of service to the lady. Mayhap when done, the lady might remember who she be and the rules of privilege she was born to. Do ye think ye can refresh her memory?”
Adams nodded. “And what about the Indian?”
“Kill him, and hang him from the nearest post. An example must be set.”
“Aye, sir.”
With nothing more to say but a great deal to do, Adams turned and stepped away from Laidlaw, heading in the direction of the warehouse.