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“What’s most important is our own hides. To hell with the pelts,” Clint said tightly. “And chances are those people have no idea they are sittin’ on top of a gold mine. Just remember how well we hid ’em. Mere travelers won’t even think about treasures lyin’ beneath their feet. They have stopped here for one thing. To rest until they travel onward tomorrow. But there’s one thing they don’t know.”
He chuckled beneath his breath. “They won’t have anything to travel onward on,” he said. “We’re takin’ that scow, Jeb. Now. Come with me. I don’t see
no one standin’ watch. Let’s get away while the gettin’ is good. We’ll travel on to good ol’ Saint Louie, wait until we feel it’s safe to return, then come back and grab those hides.”
Jeb saw the logic in what Clint said and ran with him to the scow.
Both placed their rifles on board, then worked at untying the two ropes that held the scow in place.
When the ropes were finally loosened, they flipped them onto the deck, then shoved and pushed, panting from the exertion it took, until the scow was floating free. Then they jumped on board and guided it to the center of the river with the two huge oars.
As they moved downriver in the direction of St. Louis, they kept a close eye on the land, still fearful of Indians.
The farther they traveled, the safer and more self-assured they became.
Suddenly Clint bent over in a rush of laughter. “We did it,” he said between his snorts of laughter. “We fooled those damn savages. Now they’ll never be able to avenge the deaths of those two young braves.”
“Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord,” Jeb shouted, mockingly quoting a passage from the Bible. “Well, savages, seems the good Lord above knows more about vengeance than you ever will.”
Something made Clint look quickly heavenward.
He would never forget that wide span of wings on the bird he and Jeb had seen. If that bird showed up now and dove down toward them on this scow, he’d sure enough wet his breeches.
He made himself think about other things and looked straight ahead. As the scow made its way through the water, Clint’s arms began to ache at the work it took to keep the craft moving steadily along.
He’d never done much physical labor before. Trappin’ was his life.
Well, at least for now, he’d have to work, and work hard. His life might depend on rowing this scow to St. Louis.
Back at the fort, Mia stirred in her sleep. She awakened with a start, then gazed over at her father.
The moon was streaming through a window onto her father’s face.
When she saw how peacefully he was sleeping and noticed that his breathing was no longer so labored, she sighed with relief. She drew her blanket more snugly around her shoulders and drifted off to sleep again.
Not far from her, the birdcage sat with its door gaping open, its cover not in its usual place.
Tiny was awake and had seen Mia checking on her pa. She hadn’t even thought to check on her canary.
Oh, but didn’t she have a surprise waitin’ for her on the morrow!
Oh, what a relief it would be not to have that bird squawkin’ and singin’ anymore on the scow as they traveled onward to St. Louis.
Ah, but wouldn’t it be peaceful!
He looked toward the closed door of the cabin. Something had awakened him a few minutes ago.
It was a sound that seemed to be coming from the direction of the river. It had sounded like hushed voices of men.
But surely he was imagining things. No one was near.
He shrugged, wiped at his dry mouth with a hand, then settled back in his blankets.
He fell into a deep, restful sleep, unaware that in the morning his entire world would be turned upside down.
Chapter Ten
Then farewell care, and farewell woe,—
