A Bride for Noah (18 page)

With a slight tilt of her head, she returned his gaze in silence. Let him wonder if perhaps there was a glimmer of truth in his jibe.

Miles had wandered away, apparently uninterested, and was now standing on the far side of the clearing, staring intently into the
stream. Mary had taken the girls inside, and was no doubt doing her best to distract them from the adults' heated exchange. Ethel, Lucy, and Sarah looked as though they would like to slip away as well, and stood with their eyes downcast. Only Louisa seemed openly amused, as if she were witnessing a particularly entertaining diversion.

Her laugh broke the silence before it became awkward. “Oh, go on, Noah. Give in. You know you will eventually. In fact, I think I'll go along.”

Noah refused to break eye contact with Evie. “Not a chance, Louisa! If anything happened to you David would skin me alive.”

“What can happen? David is always saying how peaceful these particular Indians are, and that Chief Seattle is a man of integrity. If that is true, we shall be perfectly safe.” She grinned at Evie. “Besides, I've been curious to see the Duwamish village for some time now. They're so interested in everything we do. Their lives must be drastically different from ours.”

Evie returned her friend's grin with warmth. How blessed she was to have found a woman as supportive as Louisa. Though she'd become fond of the ladies who'd traveled with her from Tennessee, they were possessed of a timidity that she could not afford to adopt if she were to make a success of this venture. Louisa's sense of adventure and her undaunted spirit resonated deep inside Evie. Those were the qualities she admired, and the ones she would need to emulate if she were to survive on this unsettled frontier.

Noah's gaze switched between the two of them and then he threw up his empty hand. “What choice do I have? If I refuse, I wouldn't put it past the two of you to strike out on your own.” He started to turn away, but then stopped to point a finger in Evie's direction. “You are not to say a word, do you understand? I do all the talking.”

She agreed with a regal dip of her head. When Noah turned to gather the other two poles, Evie exchanged a grin with Louisa. A small victory, to be sure, but winning any battle that proved her independence was a positive step into the future she envisioned.

They struck out after a lunch of venison stew and thick slices of crusty bread that Mary and Ethel had baked that morning. Noah led the way, followed by Evangeline and Louisa, with Uncle Miles bringing up the rear. The sound of their travel echoed loudly in Noah's ears, but he maintained a sulky silence. The women had no business visiting the Duwamish village. True, the Duwamish were peace-loving people who welcomed the presence of white settlers in the area. But the only reason Evangeline wanted to go was because she knew he didn't want her to. The more he'd argued against it, the more determined she'd become. It was just pure stubbornness on her part, and that irked him to no end.

When he set off down the path they'd taken to the logging camp, Evangeline had given him a surprised look. Apparently she thought the village lay in another direction. He resisted the urge to point out that he would have to double back in order to see her and Louisa safely home, which would waste even more of his time.

They'd walked perhaps fifteen minutes when he left the trail and plunged into the forest, following a less defined footpath. The underbrush grew sparsely here in the deep shadows created by the trees, but had been disturbed in places. That must have been Uncle Miles yesterday, since the natives moved through the woods without leaving a single sign of their passing.

The sound of Uncle Miles clearing his throat attracted Noah's attention. “Before we arrive, there is something I should confess.”

At the hesitancy in his uncle's voice, Noah experienced a prick of disquiet. He turned to find that his uncle had come to a halt and was watching him warily. “Something to do with the Duwamish?”

He toyed with the chain of his pocket watch and didn't quite meet Noah's eye. “Ah, we may merely be the victims of a misunderstanding rather than a theft.”

Evangeline's shoulders went stiff. “What do you mean a misunderstanding?”

“As you know I visited Chief Seattle yesterday to discuss the purchase of salmon.” He cleared his throat again and tilted his head back to inspect the treetops. “It turns out they are quite amenable to bartering for, ah, items rather than money.”

The impact of his words struck Noah and Evangeline at the same moment. Her face went pasty and she wavered on her feet. Louisa slipped a supportive arm around her waist.

Noah strode back to face him. “Do you mean you
gave
them the supplies?”

“No!” Miles shook his head vehemently, and cast a quick glance at Evangeline. “Not
all
of them. Only certain food items. Cabbages and apples, and a few crates of potatoes.”

“You traded our food?” Evangeline's words were no louder than a whisper, but so intense that she might as well have screamed them.

“Only a little,” he rushed to say. “Fresh produce that will most likely go bad before we can open the restaurant anyway.”

Now she did raise her voice. “Have you never heard of a root cellar?” If flames had lashed out from her eyes, Noah would not have been surprised. “Miles Coffinger! You must be out of your mind! Those items were vital to the success of our restaurant. They were not to be bartered.” Tears shone in her eyes for the second time today, but these were different from before. These were fueled by a fury so intense she was visibly trembling. Noah wasn't sure if Louisa's arm around her waist was supporting her or stopping her from flying at Uncle Miles.

He stepped between them. “Let's all calm down. What exactly were the details of the bargain?”

Uncle Miles gave up fiddling with his watch chain and began smoothing the thick beard on his chin. “That's what I was trying to tell you earlier. The language barrier presented something of a
problem when it came to details. I think I traded six crates of vegetables for a wagonload of salmon and three dozen barrels to store them in.”

“You
think
?” Evangeline countered.

Wincing, Noah closed his eyes and formed a silent plea for wisdom. When he was a boy Mother had read an account from the Bible to him, of a king who asked the Almighty for wisdom. A story rose in his memory, and he had to swallow a burst of inappropriate laughter. If he mentioned Solomon to Evangeline at this moment, no doubt she would insist that they take the biblical king's advice and cut Uncle Miles in two.

With an effort to tame his thoughts, he opened his eyes. “Why didn't you mention this earlier?”

With a shamefaced duck of his head, he said, “I was going to mention it before we arrived.” A quick glance up at the ladies. “When we were alone.”

In other words, when no one except Noah would have to know of the arrangement. “Are you sure you agreed only to a few vegetables? None of the other items that have gone missing?”

Uncle Miles drew himself upright, and jerked at the bottom of his waistcoat. “I am not an imbecile, Noah.” His posture flagged, and doubt colored his features. “I am fairly positive that's all I agreed to.”

Before Evangeline could react, Noah turned to her, braced if she should lunge for him. “Chief Seattle is a reasonable man. I'm positive he will listen and act accordingly. But it is important that we all remain calm. If we give in to emotional outbursts we will only appear foolish before an extremely influential tribal chieftain. Do you understand?”

“We'll behave,” Louisa assured him, tightening her arm around her friend's waist.

Still, Noah held Evangeline's gaze until, reluctantly, she nodded.

When he had extracted a promise from Uncle Miles to remain
silent and let him handle the conversation, he continued the trek toward the Duwamish village.

The smell of smoke and fish reached them before they caught their first glimpse of the Indian camp. Evie made a point of avoiding Miles, who straggled behind, but hung close to Louisa as they neared the edge of the primitive settlement. The trees grew sparsely here, similar to the clearing she had selected for her restaurant, only this clear area was much larger. Scattered between the wide-set trees stood a collection of small huts made out of split cedar, bound together by twine and mud and resting on mats of the same construction.

Louisa inspected one as they passed between it and its closest neighbor. “Their homes aren't nearly as sturdy as our log house.”

She was right. Daylight clearly showed between the slats in the leaning walls of the hut nearest her, though the top was heavily coated with skins, presumably to keep out the rain.

Without slowing, Noah answered over his shoulder. “These are portable. The Duwamish travel all around the area, making camp for a season or so whenever they find a place they like. When they decide it's time to move on, they simply pack up their houses and go. It wouldn't make sense to spend the time and effort on anything sturdier, or more permanent.”

Ribbons of smoke rose from small fires that were spaced around the camp. As they stepped past the first row of huts, Evie saw that each one was tended by small clusters of dark-skinned women, their hair black as night. Some sat cross-legged on the ground, working to scrape skins or grind a meal of some sort on large, flat rocks in front of them. Others focused their efforts on racks that had been erected beside or even over the fire pits. The racks were constructed of poles that resembled the ones that had been left at the Denny
cabin last night, only without any design and with long strips of what appeared to be meat hanging from them.

The women stopped their work to stare with frankly curious gazes at the newcomers. Children appeared, seeming to come from all directions, chattering and rushing toward them. They greeted Noah as though they knew him, a few even running up to grab his hand. Smiling, he spoke a few words in their language, which clearly delighted them. Evie and Louisa found themselves surrounded as children fell into step beside them, peering up at their faces.

One little girl, probably only a year or so older than Margaret, reached a tentative hand out and ran it over the fabric of Evie's skirt. Liquid brown eyes gazed up at her and a set of perfect white teeth appeared when she smiled. Evie returned the smile, charmed by the child's frank fascination. Why, she might be the first white woman this girl had ever laid eyes upon. Though the men of the Duwamish tribe made regular visits to the logging camp and Denny cabin, no one had mentioned women or children accompanying them.

Encouraged, the little girl again fingered her skirt, this time running her hand down the length to touch the gathered ruffle at the hem, apparently fascinated by a garment she had probably never seen before.

With a quick motion, the child lifted the skirt high and peered curiously beneath it.

Emitting a little scream, Evie snatched her clothing out of the startled girl's hand. She quickly settled it properly in place, her face blazing.

Ahead of her, Noah turned with a frown. “What did I say about keeping quiet?”

Evie attempted to explain. “But she raised my…” The fire in her cheeks burned with new ferocity when his eyebrows arched. “Oh, never mind.”

Noah resumed his forward march, and Louisa let loose with a
giggle. She pulled Evie's arm close, this time laughing. “They're only curious, you know.”