****
Lying full-bodied on the ground and behind a bush, Liliann looked forward at the Sun River settlement. It was really no more than a bar and a trading room combined into one. Looking at it in the weak light of dusk, she watched as the smoke curled upward through a chimney of the establishment, lending the air around her its pleasant odor. But, she had no more than breathed in the aroma of smoke when another smell took precedence: it was the gross stench of unwashed bodies.
Wrinkling her nose, she looked forward but said not a word, acting in the manner by which First Rider had instructed her. Narrowing her eyes, she thought the establishment looked to be constructed of whatever building materials the company of men had been able to find in the environment…timber and mud, and not much else. But, they had not done a good job in putting the building together, and it looked as if a well-breathed wolf could blow the tavern down.
"Augh! Put yer hands flat down on the table!"
A deep rough and crude voice rang out into the evening air from the tavern. It was followed by a gunshot and accompanied by a terrible groan.
Liliann flinched, but not so First Rider nor his companions. A few profanities carried out into the night, and Liliann physically cringed. She shivered.
"The smell in this place is as foul as the gold-seekers' tongues," signed Stands Strong, as the four of them laid belly-down in the middle of the dense bushes growing in a slight dip in the land.
"Worse than foul," Red Fox answered, also in sign.
"It is human waste," First Rider declared, signing his words. He continued, "But, what can one expect from men who commit murder without any more reason than a game of chance? Come, let us set up our camp distant enough from here so we need not hear their misdeeds nor smell their waste."
Each of them mutually agreed with a slight dip of the head, and they backed away slowly and as quietly as possible until they reached the bottom of the coulee where they had secured their horses. With each of them taking up the reins of his own pony, they paced upstream in a single file, looking for a good place to set up camp.
****
The sound of the clear rushing water against the large and small rocks accompanied their trek through the heavily forested game trail that wound in and out of the pine-filled tree line hugging the shoreline of The Medicine. The increasing darkness of twilight was quickly turning into night, and a slight humid chill touched Liliann's face as she followed along behind Stands Strong and Red Fox. First Rider was guarding their party from the rear.
Up ahead she could see there was a bend in the river, and as they followed it, they discovered a large stretch of tall Ponderosa pine trees, along with aspen, bitter cherry and willow trees dotting the shores of the fast-rushing river. There was a spot within those trees that looked to offer a good hiding place for their camp, providing protection from both the eyes of an Indian war party, as well as from the gold-seeking whites. Italso smelled fragrantly and pleasantly of pine and balsam, and strangely…of butterscotch.
Immediately, First Rider and his friends set about constructing a temporary shelter for her; it was a space that would house both her and First Rider. Then, using what nature provided around them, the three men landscaped the hut to look as though it were a part of the environment, not a shelter. The effect was astounding to Liliann, who saw the refuge literally disappear into the trees and scrub brush. Then the three men put up a similar hut for Red Fox and Stands Strong. Because their residence here at The Medicine depended upon Stuart and how long he would remain at this place, the shelters were temporarily built and went up fast.
It was well into the night when the three scouts and Liliann snuck in close to the Sun River settlement, placing their horses once again in the well-forested bottom of a coulee.
Unfortunately, the place still smelled of human waste, and the noise from within the establishment was crude and harsh. Compared to what she recalled about the clean and beautiful tepees of the Indians, the tavern looked like a stain upon the land, as well as upon the beauty of the river.
Remembering back to the early evening, Liliann recalled her shock when the three men had produced garments from their saddlebags and proceeded to disguise themselves as one of the linger-about-the-fort Indians, the kind of man who had become addicted to the firewater of the white man and who, not being able to be long without a drink, begged a residence at the fort.
She had watched as they'd shaken out what had looked to be white men's clothing from their parfleche bags. They had then wet the pants and shirts and had pulled them on. When she'd looked on again, they were each one rolling themselves in the dirt, staining the clothing and wrinkling the attire at thesame time. Seeing it, she had giggled. She couldn't help it; they'd looked like little boys at play.
Once done, however, they had effectively changed their appearance from the clean look of the scout to the dissatisfying look of the homeless. Although she'd felt like laughing aloud, she'd cautioned herself to simply smile, though a chuckle had escaped from her lips once or twice.
First Rider, laughing along with her, had then told her why this was necessary: these hang-around-the-fort Indians were "invisible" to the whites, because, having no respect for them, the whites paid no attention to any Indian they considered to be less than a bum. So, it was by this simple method that she came to understand a little about how the three of them would fade into the environment while remaining clearly in sight.
She had learned their plan was to take turns standing inside the saloon, where they would be able to watch Ernest and listen to him speaking to the others, perhaps even boasting of his plans.
Liliann was under strict orders from First Rider to remain where she was, hidden by the bushes; vitally important it was that she not move about or make a sound. And so, realizing the danger First Rider and his friends would be facing—as well as she, herself—she did little more than watch and listen.
Looking outward, she assumed the saloon doubled as both a trading center and a gambling parlor for these men who she supposed were traveling south to the gold fields. Or, perhaps it was also a jumping-off place for those men who were returning from the fields to spend some time gambling before going on to Fort Benton and then returning home to what these Westerners called the States.
Suddenly, a pain split through her shoulder, traveling downward toward her chest. She almost cried out, but she didn't—she couldn't, being under strict orders to make no sound. Andso, she let out no more than a slight moan, its sound hushed by her hand over her mouth. Changing her position so she lay flat on her back, she looked up at the stars overhead and, searching out the Big Dipper, realized the time was late. Perhaps it was already early morning.
Settling in to wait, she closed her eyes, her thoughts centered upon First Rider and his delicious kisses. Then, inhaling deeply, she decided it wouldn't hurt to nap a little…but only a tiny few-minutes nap…
****
The tavern was filled with the sickening scent of the smoke from the white man's tobacco, as well as the more common smell of the fire, which First Rider saw was located in one corner of the room. Inhaling deeply, he recognized again the unhealthy odor of whiskey and of unwashed bodies.
Looking down, he beheld little bits of mold on the meat littering the wooden planks of the floor. Looking up at the shelves in the trading post, he noted the soot covering the trade goods and wondered if the owners of this place even noticed how unattractive those items of trade looked. But, then, it didn't appear there was much trade occurring here; perhaps all these goods went unused.
There were no women here, and he reckoned this, more than anything else, was the cause of these men acting in such a wild and unruly fashion. The men here were unshaved, as well as filthy-mouthed, a condition no Pikuni man would tolerate, particularly around his women. No music filled the tavern either, except for an occasional drunken song from one of the intoxicated men.
He, Stands Strong and Red Fox lingered in the trading room, and as they had anticipated, they went unnoticed. They watched and listened to the games, First Rider, in particular, giving attention to those being played by Stuart.
