“Good!” The more new species I discovered, the better. I went to the packhorse and got out my journal, figuring I might as well catch up on my entries. I became so absorbed in my observations and descriptions that when a shadow fell across me, I gave a start.
It was Blue Water Woman. “I am finished.” She held out the paper to me. “If I have not written enough I can add more.”
She had done a marvelous job. First, she had listed birds, then mammals, then reptiles, then insects. She even put down a short list of fish. To give but one example, her first bird was “A small brown hawk that hunts above the timberline. It has a yellow beak and big eyes.” She had numbered them. I ran my finger down the list to the last and exclaimed, “Thirty-nine? That many?”
“It could be that whites know of some of them, but I do not know the white name because when my husband and I talked about them, we talked in my own tongue.”
“McNair speaks Flathead?” I stupidly asked.
“Fluently. With a memory as good as his, he learns new tongues easily. Not as easily as Winona, but close.”
“You keep bringing her up,” I said.
“She is my best friend. I am in awe of how quickly she learns things. What would take me six months, she learns in a week.”
“You exaggerate, surely.” I scanned her list again, and something gave me pause. “Wait a minute. What is this? You wrote here, ‘A giant bird that carries off buffalo and sometimes people.’”
“Yes. My people call them thunderbirds. It has been many winters since they were last seen, but in my grandfather’s time my people lived in great fear of them.”
“So you have never seen one yourself? This is more of a legend?”
“You said everything, big or small,” Blue Water Woman reminded me. “I did not write about the giants or the little men, though, since they are people like you and me.”
“The what?”
“Long ago, when my people, the Salish, first came to the country where they now live, they fought with giants who lived in caves and wore bearskins. From time to time one would sneak into a Salish village at night and steal a woman.”
“Legends,” I stressed.
Blue Water Woman did not seem to hear me. “The little people had dark skins. They lived in the thickest woods where it was hard for men to travel, and they would signal one another by beating on a tree with a stick. The bow was the weapon they liked best. They made pictures on rocks, but no one could read what the pictures said.”
“Honestly, now,” I interrupted. These accounts bordered on fairy tales. “And where are the giants and the dwarfs now?”
“The giants were killed off long ago. They were a terror and had to be stopped. The dwarfs did not hurt anyone, so the Salish left them alone. My grandfather saw one when he was a boy.”
I was about to say how preposterous all of this was when a jay took wing squawking on the other side of the stream, and a few moments later, a handful of sparrows, twittering noisily, did the same.
Blue Water Woman raised her rifle. “On your feet, Robert Parker. We are not alone.”
Chapter Thirteen
Anything could have spooked the birds, and I said so.
“We must hide, quickly,” Blue Water Woman insisted. She did not wait for me to reply but turned and hastened to the horses.
I was slow to rise. In my estimation her alarm was uncalled for. Yet another example of the senseless dread displayed by the McNairs and the Kings. They acted as if everything and everyone were out to get them. For grown adults to behave so childishly was silly.
“Hurry,” Blue Water Woman urged.
“We have seen no sign of anyone else all day,” I mentioned. “What makes you think we are in danger?”
“Please, Robert Parker.”
“That is another thing,” I said. “Why do you call me by my full name? Robert will do. Or even Bob, if you like.”
“I like how your name sounds.” Blue Water Woman turned, leading her horse, but she only took a couple of steps. Then she abruptly stopped and started to raise her rifle to her shoulder.
“I wouldn’t, were I you, squaw. Not unless you want me to shoot you smack between the eyes.”
It was Jess Hook. He had come up out of the woods, his rifle trained on her. I suppose I should not have been surprised, but I was. I started to jerk my own rifle when a gruff voice behind me froze me in place.
Jordy Hook had stepped from the trees across the stream. He, too, had his rifle to his shoulder, only his was aimed at me. “Set that long gun down, painter man, or I’ll drop you where you stand.”
“What’s the meaning of this?” I demanded while complying.
Cutter appeared, leading their horses. “Listen to him, will you?” he said to Jordy. “Dumb as a stump. The airs he puts on, you’d think he had a brain between his ears.”
“Now see here,” I said angrily.
Jordy and Cutter forded the stream. Their wet moccasins squished as they came up the bank. Their expressions were as cold as ice.
It did not bode well. But I refused to show fear. Instead, I faced Jess Hook and said, “No one has answered me. What is this about? What do you hope to prove?”
“Prove?” Jess said, and snorted. “Mister, you beat all. I will make everything clear, but first you and your friend will shuck your pistols and knives. Nice and slow if you know what’s good for you.”
I obeyed promptly. Blue Water Woman did so with reluctance, earning a bark of impatience from Jordy.
Only after she had laid down her weapons did Jess Hook lower his rifle to his waist, although he continued to point it at her. “Well now. That’s better. Suppose you get a fire going, Indian. Not a big one, mind, and don’t use green wood to make a lot of smoke for your friends in the valley to see. I am wise to tricks like that.”
Without saying a word, Blue Water Woman moved toward the trees. The instant she did, Cutter was at her side, his hand on one of his knives. He leered at her, but she ignored him.
“Don’t you touch her,” Jess Hook said.
Cutter glanced sharply at him. “Who are you to say yes or no? We’re partners, ain’t we?”
“We need her in one piece, or have you forgotten why we’ve gone to all this trouble?” was Jess Hook’s rejoinder.
Frowning, Cutter swore, then said, “I still think we should have grabbed the girl and not these two. Nate King is more likely to give in if it’s the fruit of his loins.”
“She hasn’t given us the chance, has she? Or would you rather wait around a month or two in the hope she waltzes into our arms?”
“I was only saying,” Cutter said. Then the forest closed around him and Blue Water Woman.
I looked at Jordy Hook, who snickered.
“You’ve stepped in it now, painter man. You should’ve stayed back East where the sheep don’t have to worry about wolves.”
Jess Hook stepped to the log Blue Water Woman had been sitting on and beckoned to me. “Get over here and plant yourself, mister. You and me need to have words.”
I did not like having rifles pointed at me, nor the implied threats of violence. “You can’t treat us like this,” I protested. “It isn’t right.”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Jess snapped as I sat on the log.
“Have you no scruples?” I asked.
Jess glanced at Jordy and both brothers laughed. Then Jess placed a foot on the end of the log and leaned an elbow on his leg.
“Mister, I’ll let you in on a secret. All that stuff about right and wrong, scruples as you call them, is a bunch of hogwash. It is how those who have the money and make the laws keep the rest of us in line. But you know what?” Jess leaned toward me. “It’s just words. They don’t mean anything. There is no right or wrong. There are no scruples. We can do as we want, and the rest of the world be damned.”