In sign the Blackfoot said, “I called Black Elk. I Black-foot. I count many coup. I want know you called.”
“I called Grizzly Killer,” Nate signed. It was the name the Shoshones called him, bestowed on him long ago after he slew his first griz. He waited for Black Elk to sign in reply but the warrior was staring at Tyne. Nate elected to come right out and ask why the warriors were following them. Since there was no hand sign for the word “why,” he had to go about it another way. Raising his right hand shoulder-high with his palm toward Black Elk and his fingers and thumb splayed apart, he twisted his wrist several times. It was sign language for “question.” He continued by signing, “You follow us?”
Black Elk pointed at Tyne. “Girl have sun hair.”
Nate thought he understood. Tyne was probably the first blonde Black Elk ever set eyes on. Since Indians nearly always had black hair, to Black Elk her yellow curls must be extraordinary.
“Question. You trade her?”
Nate was taken aback.
Tyne chose that moment to ask, “What are you two doing with your hands? Talking?”
“It’s called sign language.”
“Oh. I remember hearing about it. Can you teach me? I would love to talk to Indians that way. I bet I would learn a lot of new things.”
“Do you remember me asking you to shush?” Nate noted that the other warriors hadn’t moved.That was encouraging, but the whole situation could change for the worse if what he signed next angered Black Elk. “No trade girl.”
For the longest while Black Elk sat still, staring at Tyne. Then he signed, “Give ten horses.”
Nate hid his unease. By Blackfoot standards, Black Elk was offering a lot. It showed how much Black Elk wanted her. “No,” he signed.
“Give twenty horses.”
“No.”
“My heart big. Give fifty horses.”
Nate had never heard of such a thing. Fifty was wealth beyond measure. “Yes, you have big heart.” Which was the same as saying Black Elk was being incredibly generous. “But whites no trade people. No people before time. No trade people time in front. No trade people now.” In effect, Nate was saying that whites never had and never would trade one of their own.
“Maybe we take her.”
Nate scowled. There it was. Black Elk was threatening to abduct her if they didn’t come to terms. He signed, “Question. You want war with whites?”
Black Elk’s hands stayed at his side.
“You take girl, whites be mad. Whites take war bonnet. Many whites come Blackfoot country. Whites bring many guns. Whites fight. Whites kill. Many Blackfeet die.”
“Blackfeet maybe kill many whites,” Black Elk signed.
Nate did not press the issue. He had given the warrior something to think about. But the truth was, he was bluffing. The whites would not go to war over one girl. Whites were taken captive all the time and nothing was ever done about it. Oh, sometimes the bereaved families arranged a trade. But once a white woman was taken she was generally considered lost for good.
Tyne coughed to get his attention. “You two are doing an awful lot of finger wriggling. What about?”
“They’re hunting. He asked me if I’d seen any elk.”
“We saw a cow elk yesterday. They sure are big. A lot bigger than deer. They remind me of horses. Has anyone ever put a saddle on an elk and tried to ride it?”
“You are doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Does your mother ever gag you?”
Tyne giggled. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I’m excited. The only other Indian I ever met was a Delaware and he was as tame as a kitten. These are wild Indians, aren’t they?”
“As wild as Indians come.”
“And yet they are being nice and not trying to kill us. Why don’t we ride down so I can see them close up.”
“No.”
“I promise not to talk much.”
“The answer is still no.”
“You’re not being very friendly to them.”
Nate focused on Black Elk. The warrior was signing again.
“Question. You trade part yellow hair? I give horse. I give blanket. I give knife.”
It took Nate a few moments to realize what Black Elk was asking. “I’ll be damned,” he blurted.
“Mr. King! My mother says we shouldn’t ever use that kind of language. When my brothers do it, she makes them wash their mouths out with soap.”
Nate drew his bowie knife. “Bend your head down.”
“Whatever for?”
“I need a lock of your hair. Do you mind?” Nate started to reach up but Tyne recoiled.
“This is most peculiar.”
“It’s not for me. The Indian with the big nose has taken a fancy to you. If we give him a lock, he and his friends will go away and leave us be.”
“And if I would rather keep all my hair right where it is?”
“Then they will bide their time and jump us when we least expect. Instead of settling for your hair, they might take you. And your mother and father and brothers and sister might lose their lives protecting you.”
“Oh my.” Tyne gazed at Black Elk. “I suppose I should let you have it, then. I would die before I let harm come to my family. But take it from the back of my head so I don’t have to see.”
“Good girl. Now bend down.” A single stroke was all Nate needed. Cupping the snippet, he left his Hawken where it was and descended a dozen steps. He held his hand out so Black Elk could see the golden lock, and beckoned with the other.
Black Elk dismounted. Head high, shoulders squared, he came up the slope. He didn’t sign or say anything. He accepted the lock, held it almost reverently in his own palm, and stroked it with a fingertip.
“Question. We friends?” Nate signed.
Black Elk smiled at Tyne, said something in the Blackfoot language, and headed back down. He placed the lock of hair in his pouch. Rejoining his companions, he climbed on his horse. Without a backward glance the four warriors wheeled their mounts and made for the trees.
Nate felt tension drain from him like water from a sieve. He climbed to the boulders and reclaimed his Hawken.
“Why did you look so worried?” Tyne asked. “You had me thinking they might be out to hurt us when all they wanted was a piece of my hair.”
Nate saw no reason to tell her the truth.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, Mr. King, that was awful silly. My mother would say you didn’t use your head. She says that a lot about men.”
“Does she, now?”
“Oh, yes. She says men need women to tell them what to do.”
“How did your mother get so wise?”
“I don’t know. It comes naturally to her, I guess.”
Hate and Love
The pass was a wagon-wide gap high on the divide. Once through it they would be on the west side of the Rockies. Rock walls reared on either side. Normally, the gap was in deep shadow, but they reached it when the afternoon sun was at its zenith.
Nate still brought up the rear. He didn’t trust the Blackfeet. They were devious enough to let him think they’d left, only to sneak back and pounce when he was off his guard.
The others filed into the pass ahead of him. All except one. Nate was surprised to find Edwin Ryker waiting for him.
“Where did you get to earlier? You disappeared for a while.”
Nate remembered a story he heard about how Ryker lost his ear. “I checked our back trail.”
“You don’t say.” Ryker smirked. “That isn’t what Tyne told me. She says you ran into some Indians and gave them a lock of her hair. Her mother is fit to be tied.”