Part 9 (1/2)
He was earlya”had planned it that way. He would just find a comfortable, hidden spot and wait.
He chose his place of concealment carefully, brushed the snow from the stump with the brim of his Stetson, and took a seat. He had no sooner settled himself than he heard a soft chuckle.
”You make noise like moose,” came the soft, familiar voice.
Laramie whipped around. White Eagle stood a few feet away, grinning, his arms folded across his chest.
”Yer here,” said Laramie, rising to his feet again.
White Eagle, the amused look still on his face, made no comment but crossed to where Laramie now stood.
”We meet herea”no?”
It was Laramie's turn to smile. He reached out, and the two young men shook hands firmly.
”Yes, we were to meet here,” he agreed. ”It's been a long time,” he continued, placing a hand on the young Indian's shoulder.
”Long,” agreed White Eagle. He nodded his head to the stump Laramie had vacated and eased himself to the ground. Laramie returned to his seat.
For some minutes the two friends sat silently, their eyes traveling out over the expanse of the valley beneath them. White Eagle broke the stillness. ”You call,” he said simply, and Laramie understood his implied question.
He removed his hat and ran a finger through s.h.a.ggy, heavy hair. ”Yeah,” Laramie admitted. ”I had to talk to someone.”
”Trouble?”
”Notanot really trouble. Jesta”
Laramie stopped and White Eagle waited for him to go on. It was some time before Laramie continued.
”My pa brought this here girl to the camp,” he said, feeling that the spoken words sounded pretty silly.
White Eagle nodded solemnly. ”Trouble!” he said softly.
”Wella”no trouble yet,” Laramie hurried to explain. ”I mean she's just aaa younganot a troublemaker or anything like thet. She's off in a cabin all alone. The fellas don't even know she's there.”
White Eagle waited.
”Pa gave me theathe ch.o.r.e ofaof guardin' her,” went on Laramie.
”Nicea”ch.o.r.e,” White Eagle said, his eyes glinting with amus.e.m.e.nt.
”Noa”it's not,” quickly cut in Laramie. ”She'sashe'sait's not a nice joba”at all.”
”She mean squaw?” asked the Indian.
”No,” Laramie said quickly. ”Nothin' like thet. She's young an' she's scared an' I have no idea what she's there for. I meana”I don't know what Pa plans. I askeda”an' he got mad. Wouldn't say nothin'. Jest says I gotta guard her.”
White Eagle shrugged his shoulders and spread his palms upright as if to say that there was nothing he could do to help the situation.
”It's jestawell, I meanayou've lived in campa”with womena”all yer life. IaI don't know a thing about women. Whatawhat am I supposed toahow am I supposed toa?”
White Eagle smiled. Yes, he knew about women. Elderly ones who, because of their years and wisdom, were the mothers of the tribe, wives of hunters who tanned the hides of the game the men brought in and tended the cooking pots. Younger women, eyes soft with love for their newborn papooses, maidens who modestly lowered their eyes when the young braves walked by, and then stole covert glances beneath long, dark lashes. Even the frolicking, playful little onesa”on their way to ”becoming.” He knew about life surrounded by women.
”But,” he went on to explain, ”I have visited the white man's forta”a few times. The women there are differenta”very differenta”from the Indian women in my camp.”
He shrugged again. ”I know nothinga”of white squaws,” he said, and spread his hands again.
”Buta””
White Eagle shrugged again. ”Not same,” he said as though that was final.
Laramie was agitated. White Eagle stared at him, looking both surprised and confused. Finally he asked, ”Why such little bit of woman trouble so much?”
Laramie couldn't answer the question.
”What you do for her?” White Eagle asked, his tone indicating he was genuinely trying to help his friend.
”I jestajest bring her wood an' water an' food an'a””
”Why she not get own wood and water?” questioned White Eagle.
”She's our prisoner,” responded Laramie.
White Eagle nodded. Then he frowned. ”White man not make prisoner work?” he asked.
”She's locked up,” said Laramie.
White Eagle nodded again.
”So you not likeach.o.r.e?” asked the young brave.
Laramie stood to his feet and began to pace. He reached up to push his hat back a trace. ”No,” he said. ”No, I don't like it. She shouldn't be there. Shouldn't be in the camp. It's gonna mean trouble. I can feel it in my bones.”
”Maybe sheaescape,” observed the Indian with a knowing look.
”She'd never make it. She'd diea”or be killeda”or taken,” declared Laramie. He continued to pace, his jaw set firmly, his blue eyes darkening.
”Youanot want that?”
Laramie whirled around to face the young brave. He did not even offer an answer. Of course he did not want that.
”Soayou not likeacare forabut you wantakeep,” White Eagle continued, as though carefully sorting through Laramie's problem.
Laramie did speak then. ”I don't want to keepa”I jest want toa””
He broke off. How could he explain to the p.a.w.nee what he was feeling? That it was all wrong to take another captive. That his father had broken some moral code in bringing the young girl into camp. That he knew, deep down inside, that this was totally against everything that a real man should stand for.