She gulped. “Yes, yes, of course I will.”
“Besides,” continued Julian, “Bogart won’t come here. The real John Bogart is a free trapper nowadays, living somewhere in the Indian territory. Who knows? He might even be dead, and that’s not so far-fetched. Itissaid that the Indians in that territory—Blackfeet, I think they are—are a terror. Trust me.”
“I do. You know that. It’s just that I don’t think a person—any person—can learn all there is to know about a job—and especially one like scouting—from a book. It’s a skill, isn’t it? And being a skill, doesn’t it require practice?”
“Ihavepracticed a lot. I got us here, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but don’t you need more real experience than that? Don’t you need to have actually led a wagon train?”
“Pshaw, how am I supposed to get experience if I don’t try this? Really, it can’t be that difficult. Look at the Indians. They do it. And they’re uneducated.”
“Dear Lord…” Closing her eyes, Angelia took a deep breath and counted to ten before saying, “The Indians have lived here for so long that the land and their sense of direction is a part of their blood, and?—”
“Then what you’re really telling me is that your brother is not as bright as the natives who have never stepped foot inside a schoolhouse?” He set his lips in a scowl. “Is that right?”
“No! Oh no. Please don’t misunderstand me.”
Julian’s chin shot up in the air. “I don’t think I am.”
“Oh, for goodness’s sake. Don’t go putting strange meaning to my words. All I’m trying to explain is that we’re in enough trouble as it is, and we surely don’t need more. You know what Papa says about lying and the devil’s work, and this fib will eventually be found out.”
“Aha!” Julian raised an arm and pointed a finger directly at her. “So what you’re really saying is that you don’t believe in me.”
“No, no.” Angelia sighed. “I trust you. I believe in you. But please try to see reason.” She placed her hand over Julian’s. “Books can only impart a theory of knowledge—how to do something—not the action that goes along with it. There is often much more to know about something than the mere theory.”
Julian rolled his eyes.
Angelia continued speaking, as though she hadn’t seen the look or witnessed his attitude. “For instance, what if there’s some part of scouting that requires a particular skill, and it isn’t covered by that book?”
Julian crossed his arms and set his feet apart, taking a stance. “There isn’t. It’s all here.”
“Can you be sure? And what if there is such a thing and you don’t know about it, and yet everyone else does? You will be found out. And if you are found out, youwillhave to explain why you’re pretending to be someone you are not.”
“Pshaw. Won’t happen. Like I said, this book?—”
“But it could happen.”
“It won’t.”
Angelia’s expression stilled, then she straightened herspine. “I must protest. This is not some cute little game we’re playing. Now, please, go over there…” she pointed toward the back of a low building, “…and quit while you have the chance.”
Julian posed stubbornly. “I will not. It’s my good luck that the scout they originally hired can’t make the trip—fell and broke his leg or something. Listen to me, they’re desperate, and they want me.”
“But—”
“I’ll admit the wagoners did hire a couple of Indians to help with the scouting, but you know the general opinion of Indians in these parts. Friendly or not, no one trusts them or understands them. Actually…” Julian dropped his voice, as though he were only now realizing this himself, “…feelings between the whites and the Indians run a little deeper and a little more hostile than that. Besides, I’ve only just got the job. I’m not gonna quit.”
“Oh please. You really must think about this. What if Papa were to find out?”
Perhaps it was because he was the son of a minister that Julian Honeywell looked away from his sister, shifting his feet uneasily, if only for a moment. But when he spoke, whatever call to conscience there had been—if there had been any—was not to be witnessed upon his countenance. “So what? What else are we going to do? The only reason we’re here is to escape the bounty that was offered against our capture.”
“But Papa is handling all that for us.”
“Is he? And how is he handling it?”
“You know that he’s going to the authorities?—”
“Without us being there?”
