Rose's Pledge (36 page)

Allowing grabby little Jenny to hold her own cup, Rose could wait no longer. She looked up at Nate’s partner. “Robert, ‘tis quite obvious you and Mr. Hawkes went to great lengths to keep something from me. I must know what it is.”

From his demeanor, she could tell she had him cornered.

“I’m not— Oh look. Here comes Nate.”

Approaching the fire, Nate gave a huge grin, directing his gaze at Rose. “Mornin’.” Then he tipped his head in the direction of the riverbank. “I see the men are ready to push off. I’d sure hate to be out on that icy river before the sun has a chance to warm things up.” He gave the departing company men a jaunty wave, then grabbing a cup from the sack, he poured himself some tea and came to sit next to Rose and the baby.

She took a slow, calming breath. “It seems Robert and Mr. Hawkes are keeping a secret from me, Nate. One I’m sure you must be privy to.” She arched a brow.

He shot his pal a serious glower. “You don’t say.”

Robert shrugged. “Hawkes says he’s sendin’ replacements out here by the first of April. Looks like all that fine playactin’ of yours didn’t make much difference. You’re still gonna be tossed out.”

“‘Twas not like that.” Rose let out a huff. “Not like that at all.” She took the cup from Jenny and wiped the child’s face and neck with her apron. “Mr. Hawkes doesn’t want me here in the spring when the Shawnees start bringing in captives.”

Nate kneaded his chin in thought. “Ah yes, the spring raids. I’d say the decision’s for the best. You an’ Jenny Ann need to be away from here then. Somewhere safe.”

Recalling Hannah Wright and her needless death, Rose couldn’t fault any of them for their reasoning. “I suppose you’re right.” She picked up the baby and kissed her plump cheek. “But I shall hate having to give up Jenny. I’m afraid I’ve become quite attached to the little angel.”

Nate ruffled the towhead’s silky curls, making her giggle. “She is a cutie, no doubt about that.”

“And then of course,” Rose continued, “there are my sisters. I shan’t have nearly enough money by April. Nor will I have this sort of opportunity ever again.”

“Greedy, greedy.” With a teasing smirk, Nate got up.

The accusation irked Rose. She stood to face him straight on. “‘Tis not for me, and you very well know it.”

“Aye. I know.” His expression sobered. “Tell you what. I’m willin’ to give you whatever I earn in tradin’ between now an’ then to help. How’s that?”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he turned to his partner. “What say we go take care of the stock while the gals fix breakfast?”

Robert slid a longing look over at Rose’s wigwam.

Clapping him on the back, Nate snickered. “Don’t worry, pal. Your little darlin’ll be up an’ about soon enough. I saw her sneakin’ peeks at me while I was gettin’ up.”

He grunted then started after Nate for the animal pens. “Shining Star knows you had no business spendin’ the night in there.”

Rose couldn’t let that pass. “‘Twas all my fault,” she called after them. They swiveled to face her. “What webs we do weave when we try to deceive …or something to that effect.” Blushing, she hung her head.

But not before she caught Nate’s grin. “No. Exactly like that!” He gave a hoot over his shoulder as he continued toward the stock. “Exactly like that.”

A cluster of Shawnee on their way to the trading post passed Nate and Bob as the two of them hiked toward the center of the village. “They’re over there, in front of Red Hawk’s wigwam.” Bob pointed with his decorated Indian pipe.

“Good. Cornstalk’s there, too.” Nate picked up the pace. “Might as well get this over with.”

Obviously having spied them approaching, Red Hawk raised his hand and motioned for Nate and Bob to come join him. “Greetings,” he said, the word heavily accented as they reached the campfire. “Sit.”

Nate knew that was pretty much the extent of Red Hawk’s English, but he appreciated the attempt, since his own knowledge of the Shawnee language was equally lacking. “Greetings.” He smiled and nodded at Cornstalk and a couple of older Indians as he took a seat alongside Bob on a coarse buffalo hide.

Bob took a tobacco pouch from his pocket, pouring and tamping a portion into the bowl of his pipe. He plucked a stick from the fire and lit the pipe, drawing a couple of puffs to get it going. He then handed it with both hands to Red Hawk.

As the chief took his time smoking the pipe, Nate sensed the man was particularly enjoying tobacco that had been cured on the plantations back east.

While Red Hawk was occupied, Bob started a conversation in Shawnee with Cornstalk. After the brave’s response, he turned to Nate. “He says the music last night was as I figgered. One of the young bucks was tryin’ to make time with a maiden by impressin’ her with his skill on the flute.”

“Oh, the webs their sweet smiles weave for us to get caught in.” Nate chuckled, remembering Rose’s remark.

Bob laughed also, and Cornstalk interrupted with a question. When Bob translated for him, all the Indians present laughed and nodded at Nate.

Once the pipe had made the rounds and returned to Bob, Nate nudged him. “Mebbe it’s a good time to mention that invite to dinner for the chiefs an’ their families.”

“They’re gonna consider it pretty strange, you know.”

“Aye.” Nate shrugged. “But no more strange than all of us sharin’ the same pipe is to me, a white man.”

Bob turned his attention to the two chiefs. Nate recognized Rose’s name a time or two in the conversation and watched the older men exchange disbelieving glances.

Finally Red Hawk’s feathered headdress bobbed as he met Nate’s gaze with a nod and laughed.

Bob grinned along with them. “They say they’d be pleased to accept.”

“Yeah, but what’s so all-fired funny?” Nate frowned, looking around at all the amused expressions.

“I’ll explain later. First, I’d better ask if they know anythin’ about the attack on the tradin’ post at the Seneca village at Venango.”

Unable to understand the proceedings, Nate could only watch expressions and draw his own conclusions. The Indians seemed surprised that the French had seized Frazier’s trading post, but he couldn’t tell if it was an act being put on for his and Bob’s benefit.

Nate was pretty sure he knew what Bob was relating, and he watched especially close for the slightest flicker of an eye, any telltale fidgeting. Still, nothing sinister seemed apparent while Cornstalk and Red Hawk both took turns answering. But then, red men were noted for being stoic when they wanted to be.

After a few moments of lighter conversation, Bob hiked his chin at Nate. “I reckon we better get back an’ help Rose. There’s prob’ly a crowd at the store by now.”

Once they’d said their good-byes and were far enough away, Nate turned to his pal. “Well? What’d they say? Are they willin’ to stay loyal to us, knowin’ the French are both downriver an’ upriver from here?”

He shrugged. “They gave me the same ol’ speech. Our trade goods are better, an’ the Shawnees are stronger an’ braver than any Seneca ever thought of bein’. An’ Cornstalk said the French bleed just like the Seneca.” “That sounds fine an’ good. But did they come right out an’ say they’d stay loyal?”

Coming to an abrupt halt, Bob looked him square in the eye. “Come to think of it, they never actually said those words.”

Nate gave him a thoughtful nod. “Winter’s almost on us. Not even the French should be out makin’ trouble this time of year.” He paused. “By the way, why were the Indians laughin’ at me when you asked the chiefs to dinner?”

“Oh that.” A grin crawled across Bob’s irksome face. “They said Rose was—what was that word? Oh yeah. She’s got you
henpecked
real good.”

Nate drilled him with his most menacing glare. “An’ who, might I ask, gave ‘em that idea?”

Instead of showing the least amount of remorse, Bob threw back his head and howled with laughter. His next words came out in a sputter. “You’re even startin’ to sound all uppity, just like her.”

Chagrined, Nate gave a resigned nod. “You’re right, ol’ buddy. But if I’m henpecked, you’re nothin’ but a flop-eared hound, moonin’ after your Shining Star. That’s some lovesick name you labeled her with, by the way.”

Bob gave a helpless, palms-up shrug. “Right. Absolutely right. Looks like both of us have turned into nothin’ but a couple of ol’ lap dogs. But ain’t it fun!”

Chapter 31

W
hat a long, busy day. Though chilly from the store’s flap being opened so often, Rose was elated at the number of Shawnee who’d come to check out the trading post’s new stock. She waved good-bye to one of the few Shawnee squaws who’d actually made a purchase, as the woman left with yard goods and a pair of scissors. Rose had also sold her a needle and thread from her own sewing basket, knowing that when she returned to civilization in a few months, her sewing supply could be replenished.

She marveled at the bargain she’d made and entered the sale into the ledger. Then, as she folded a muskrat robe, a smile twitched her lips. Not long ago she’d eaten Fawn Woman’s muskrat stew and envisioned a wiry-haired, beady-eyed rat was in her mouth. Rose shook her head at the memory. Fortunately she’d never had to eat muskrat stew again.

Laying the robe in the now empty corner where only yesterday huge bundles of furs had been stacked, she heard excited Shawnee voices at the other end of the store. She turned to see an older squaw talking animatedly to a younger Indian mother toting a baby in a cradleboard on her back.

Rose looked at Shining Star, who picked up Jenny Ann, and together they crossed to the chattering pair. Rose smiled as the older one held a pair of eyeglasses up to her face and moved her hand in front of them. “Ah, the eyeglasses.” Rose plucked another pair from the basket and unfolded the arms then placed the glasses on her own face to demonstrate their purpose.

The squaw grinned and nodded then took the spectacles in her hand and held them out to Rose.

Rose cupped a number of beads in her palm and showed them to the woman, who laughed with joy and said something to the young mother and Shining Star. Rose wished she’d learned a little of the language so she could share in the woman’s discovery.

The squaw turned to Rose again and pointed to a large wooden comb fastened above one of her coiled ebony plaits. A pair of deer were intricately carved across its width. She pointed to the spectacles, indicating her desire to trade the comb for the glasses.

Rose smiled sadly and gave a negative wag of her head.

At that, the older Indian looked herself over then scanned her young companion. Surely she didn’t covet the spectacles so much she’d offer to trade the mother for them! But the squaw nudged the mother around and grabbed hold of the cradleboard instead.

Rose’s mouth gaped in surprise. No one would offer a baby in trade!

Just then, Nate and Robert entered the store, their faces glowing from the cold. Rose was vastly relieved to have an interpreter. She looked up at Robert. “Is this woman hoping to trade the baby for a pair of eyeglasses?”

Robert spoke to the squaw in her language, and she laughed and shook her head vigorously. Her answer set Robert, Star, and the young mother all snickering.

Chagrined, Rose knew the joke was on her.

Still chuckling, Robert let her in on it. “Bird Woman wants to trade the cradleboard for the eyeglasses.”

With a surge of relief, Rose sought Nate’s advice. “Do you consider this a good trade, Nate? I’m not accustomed to trading in anything but furs.”

He winked at her, a spark of devilment glinting in his eyes. “Honeypie, a trade’s always good if both parties’re satisfied. Are you satisfied?”

In no mood for his antics, she ignored his playful tone and stuck to business. “Yes, of course. But we’re partners, you and I. What profit would there be for you if I were to accept a cradleboard in trade? The fur company pays only for furs.”

He grunted. “I know one thing for sure. My poor arms would profit. I must’a toted Jenny around half the day yesterday. What’ve you been feedin’ her, anyway?”

With a good-natured glare, Rose relented. “Oh, very well.” She turned to the squaw with a smile. “Oui-saw.”