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“What did I tell you yesterday and the day before that?” the shopkeeper bellowed angrily to the shaman. “The same thing I’ve been telling you for months now. With the train no longer making stops in town, my supplies are low. So you just take them there pelts of yours and scram. I ain’t got nottin’ for ya.”
Sam’s eyes shifted to the shelves fully stocked. He frowned and glanced back at the Indian who slowly turned and looked about the shop, his black eyes settling on several sacks of food below the shop window. Slowly he made his way into the store, eyeing the items lined against the wall. More than enough to supply the village, the Indian’s band, and several other villages within the district.
“Those ain’t for you.” The shopkeeper moved quickly.
Instinctively, Sam’s hand shifted closer to his revolver hidden beneath his coat. From under the counter, the shopkeeper withdrew a long Winchester and pointed the end of the barrel toward the Indian. With both hands gripping the rifle, the shopkeeper used it as a pointer to gesture toward the Indian’s neck. “And what did I tell you about wearing that piece of trash in here? If you want to do business with me, you honor the Christian faith. I won’t be doing business with no savage.”
Sam’s battle instincts kicked in. The manner in which the shopkeeper was handling the weapon, it was obvious he could shoot anyone by mistake.
His eyes shifted to the mentioned necklace around the Indian’s neck. He knew the Indian’s way of life was centered on their religious beliefs. They worshipped the earth rather than any God. Forcing them to live more like the white men, were stripping them of their culture and of their history. And he suspected of their dignity.
He felt a familiar warning tingle down his spine. Something didn’t feel right about this situation. His gaze shifted to the other man. Hatred spewed from his eyes as he glared at the Indian while pushing the waistline of his jacket aside to reveal the holster beneath. The Indian’s gaze followed the man’s movements. His own dark eyes remained unreadable, but he made no effort to move.
The atmosphere was thick with hostility. The two white men faced the Indian with evident prejudice and distrust. The situation with the natives and the townsfolk wasn’t good. And Sam didn’t like being caught in the middle. As soon as he could, he would get Ivy out of there. Finally, the Indian turned and left just as quietly as he had arrived. The shopkeeper, however, was anything but.
“Damn Injuns. Been a nuisance ever since smallpox hit their reserve few years back. Disease took out all their childbearing women. Since then they’ve been expecting handouts. Came downright vicious. Threatening the townsfolk. Been hell living with them since.”
The other man pushed away from the counter and headed over to the window. “He’s still loitering about.”
“Hell.” The shopkeeper clutched up his rifle once again and headed over to the window. “Maybe it’s best you escort that Injun on his way, Bill.”
“Was thinking the same thing.” The man referred to as Bill, swung open his coat further to show off the nice set of guns hanging from his holster.
Sam frowned, guessing what type of escort service he would provide. “I ain’t never heard of savage Indians living in the northern forest.”
“You ain’t quite there yet, boy. Damn cold and damn north, we are, but you ain’t that far north yet. Where were ya headed?”
> Sam watched the other man as he finally left the shop. He had not bothered to cover his holster. A feeling of unease overcame him. Something which he wouldn’t have if Ivy were not with him. Ignoring the shopkeeper’s question, he asked instead, “I’m in need of horses. Where can I buy some?”
“Ain’t nobody in town who’d lend you a horse, but there’s a logging camp north of here. They might have a spare they can sell ya.”
“North you say? How far?”
“About five miles.”
Sam cursed inwardly. There was no way Ivy would make it that far. “I have a woman with me. She’s been hurt. Is there somewhere safe she can stay until I return?”
The man looked surprised, but answered, “Church is empty. You can hold her up there if you’re needing. Safe from Injuns too. Ain’t likely to go snooping around in that building.”
Sam nodded to the stack of rice bags on the back shelf. “I’ll be needing some supplies. You willin’ to sell me any?”
“Ya ain’t no Injun, are ya? Whatcha you need?”
“Food.” Then gesturing to a shelf with medical supplies, “And about a yard of some gauze wrapping and some ointment.”
The shopkeeper gave a curious look, but made no other comment. He placed some canned food on the counter before cutting off the required length of bandage and adding it to Sam’s purchase. “I’ll need a blanket and a saddle bag.”
“I’ve got a good and thick wool blanket that’ll keep you warm on the trail, and a fine sheepskin bag. Quite popular with the farmers in this area.”
“That’ll be fine.” Sam slipped out his wallet and paid for his items before quickly refilling his satchel and packing the saddle bag. “What’s the easiest route to Fort William?”
“Easiest or fastest?”
“Easiest.”
“If ya head south out of town for about three miles, you’ll meet up with the tracks again. Follow them until ya reach town.
“How long will that take?”
