Randa was carrying rocks, too. She set hers down and waited as he brought his over.
“Those are good ones. Where did you get them?”
“Off a ways,” Chickory said, with a jerk of his thumb.
“Are there more? I’ll go with you and bring some back.”
“There aren’t any more.”
“You’re lyin’,” Randa said.
If there was one thing Chickory hated it was to be called a liar—even when he was lying. “What makes you say that?”
“I know you. I know how you talk when you lie. Why won’t you tell me where you got them?”
Chickory hesitated. He would love to tell someone and his sister was pretty good at keeping a secret. “If I do, you have to give me your word you won’t say a word to anybody.”
“You have it,” Randa said.
Chickory gave his account, ending with, “That hill is crawlin’ with them. You want to come, you have to be careful.”
“You need to go tell Mr. King.”
“No. Ma will find out, and you know what she’ll do.”
“You have to,” Randa insisted. “Remember that hunt? This could be what Mr. King was lookin’ for.” She pointed. “There he is right there. Go over and tell him or I’ll do it myself.”
Chickory bit off a sharp reply. He was mad. He’d trusted her and she’d betrayed him. Now he wouldn’t get to go watch the snakes whenever he wanted.
“Do it. Now.”
“Just because you are older than me…” Chickory wheeled and walked over to where Nate King and Shakespeare McNair were working on the fireplace. “I brought some rocks,” he announced.
Without looking up Nate said, “We need a lot. Keep looking.”
“Yes, sir.” Chickory stayed where he was.
“Anything else?” McNair asked.
“I just want to thank you both for bein’ so kind to us, and all. If there is ever somethin’ I can do for you, let me know.”
Nate raised his head and chuckled. “You can find more rocks.”
Chickory nodded and walked back to his sister. “There. I told him. He said he’d go have a look later, after he’s done with the cabin.”
“You did the right thing,” Randa said. “I’m proud of you.”
Chapter Thirteen
The fireplace took four days to build. It took so long because they had to bring the clay they used for the mortar from a quarter of a mile away.
The men did the digging and piled the clay on a travois; Winona and Blue Water Woman took turns riding the horse that pulled it. They mixed the clay with water and dirt and laid the stones and once the mix dried it was as hard as the stones themselves.
The front door posed a problem. They had no boards or planks. They didn’t have a sawmill to make them either. The alternatives were to split logs and spend tedious hours planing and smoothing or go all the way to Bent’s Fort. Shakespeare struck on a temporary solution. They would get boards at Bent’s on their regular supply trek. In the meantime, the Worths had to make do with Shakespeare’s bedroom door. He took it off its hinges and brought it over and hung it himself. While it was wide enough it wasn’t quite long enough; there was a gap of two inches at the top. When Emala asked why Shakespeare didn’t leave the gap at the bottom, he smiled and said, “So every bug in creation can crawl inside and make itself at home?”
“Lordy, no, I wouldn’t like that,” Emala agreed. “A gap at the top is fine by me.”
“We can’t thank you enough for the use of your door,” Samuel said.
“When we go to Bent’s we’ll have a door made that will fit proper,” Shakespeare promised. “That should be in three weeks or so.”
Samuel patted the wall and beamed. “Our new home,” he said proudly. “Our very own by-God new home.”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Emala said. “He saw us safe all the way here. The least you can do is show respect.”
“I am as thankful as I can be,” Samuel replied. He turned to Shakespeare and shook his hand and then to Nate and shook his. “I don’t have the words to say how much this means.”
“What are friends for?” Nate said.
“That’s just it,” Samuel said, and looked away and coughed. “I ain’t never had friends like you two. Not in all my born days.”
Shakespeare launched into a quote. “I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve him truly that will put me in trust; to love him that is honest; to converse with him that is wise and says little; to fear judgment; to fight when I cannot chose, and to eat no fish.”
“He’s saying he was happy to be of service,” Nate translated.
“What was that about fish?” Emala asked. “Don’t you ever eat it?”
“Personally I like fish now and then so long as it doesn’t taste too fishy.”
“How can fish not taste like fish?”
“You have to excuse him,” Nate said. “He often has no idea what he is talking about.”
Shakespeare snorted.
“May I tell you two gentlemen something?” Samuel said earnestly. “There are times when I have no notion of what you are talkin’ about.”
Winona and Blue Water Woman joined them, and Winona said, “Guess what, husband?”
“You want to take me home and ravish me.”
Emala squealed in delight and exclaimed, “Mr. King! The things that come out of your mouth. You are a caution.”
“He thinks he is,” Winona said. “But no, that is not it. We have decided to have a…what do you whites call it?” She puckered her brow. “Now I remember. A housewarming. All of us will bring food tomorrow afternoon to celebrate building the new cabin and to welcome the Worths to our valley. How does that sound?”
“I have ale I’ll bring,” Shakespeare offered.
“So long as you don’t drink too much,” Blue Water Woman said. “Remember how you become when you have had more than one.”
“Remind me.”
“You become frisky.”
“Me?”
“Very frisky.”
Emala squealed once more. “I swear. You folks talk as if you just fell in love.”
Shakespeare clasped Blue Water Woman’s hand and sank to one knee. “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.”
“Do you see what I must put up with?” Blue Water Woman said.
“O speak again, bright angel!”
“I think he’s adorable,” Emala gushed.
Blue Water Woman patted the top of McNair’s head. “You do not have to live with him day in and day out.”
“Ouch,” Shakespeare said.
Nate chuckled and walked toward the lake. Halfway there he acquired a shapely shadow.
“Leaving without your horse?” Winona asked.
Nate held up his encrusted hands. “I need to wash up and then we can go.”
“Any regrets about inviting the Worths to our valley?”
“Why would you ask a thing like that? They’re good people. They’ll make good neighbors.”
“I remember you saying once that this valley was ours and ours alone. Yet you allowed the Nansusequas to stay and now you have allowed the Worths to move here, too.” Winona rose onto the tips of her toes and kissed him on his chin. “You would make a fine sosoni.”
“I thought I already was. Your people adopted me into the tribe years ago.”