Gray Hawk's Lady: Blackfoot Warriors, Book 1 Read Online Free PDF

off where sky met land.
    Indians traversed back and forth from their encampments into the nearby fort. Several tribes had come to this place to do business—a very healthy business for the fort,the Indians trading a wealth of furs and hides for the steel blades of the white man, for the pots and pans he offered, the blankets, the beads and trinkets.
    Lady Genevieve had stood upon the fort’s rampart the previous night, looking out over the Indian encampments, hoping to get some insight, from a distance, into the character and life of the tribes present. It had been her first night at Fort Union and, gazing out over the encampments, with the dry wind upon her face and the grass- and pine-scented air smelling more foreign than anything she had ever imagined, she had felt enchanted.
    It was an unusual and wonderful sight—the primitive dwellings, the fires lit both inside and out, the music of the drums and singing from the camps below playing accompaniment to the very sounds of the night: the crickets, the locusts, the nighthawk, the wind itself.
    This is what her father lived for, what he had longed to see, and she’d wished last night that he could have been there. But it was just not possible.
    She had traveled here on the steamship the Yellow Stone, it having taken almost three months to complete the journey. She and Robert had made the trip, leaving her father back in St. Louis to recover from his illness.
    Her father had objected to her coming here, of course, but he’d had no sway over her. She’d made up her mind what had to be done; nothing would stop her.
    But now, in the light of day, she was discovering much about this place that she could barely tolerate.
    “Mr. McKenzie,” Genevieve said to the heavy Scotsman who seemed to be in charge, “is it necessary that all these trappers and traders remain here in my quarters while I try to do my work?”
    “Aye, lass, that it is. That it is. If ye’ll be needing to talk to the Indians, then ye’ll be obliged to have the protection of these men.”
    “Protection?”
    “Against the savages, lass.”
    “I see. And will the savages protect me from your men?” Genevieve fanned her face with one of her gloves. “Truly, Mr. McKenzie, the looks your men give me make me feel uncomfortable. I require only the interpreter that I have hired from you. My manservant, Robert, will give me all the protection from the Indians that I will need, I promise you.”
    McKenzie had only laughed at her, at what she’d said, but it appeared she had made her point. Within only a few moments, he had taken his leave of her, and he had grabbed most of his men to go with him.
    She breathed out a sigh of relief. “Robert,” she called, “please ensure that none of those men come in here without your knowledge.”
    “Yes, milady.”
    “Good. Now let’s see what can be done to these quarters to make them more…livable. If I am to work here for the next few days, I will require a few things. Is there a maid I can hire?”
    “I will see to it, milady.”
    “Good, then,” Genevieve said. “Notify me as soon as this room is clean, so that I might interview the Indians.”
    And to Robert’s “Yes, milady,” Genevieve strode out the door, her umbrella held just so over her head to shield her complexion and her hair from the glaring rays of the savage summer sun.
     
     
    Why didn’t the savage look away? And why didn’t he join in the laughter? Laughter the others in his tribe were enjoying…at her expense.
    Genevieve shuddered and glanced away from the window, her gaze catching on to and lingering over the simple, hand-carved furniture that had been given to her for her “use.”
    The room was clean, but that was all it was.
    There was nothing in the room to recommend it—no feminine touches here and there, no lacy curtains to cushion the windows, no crystal or china to brighten each nook and cranny, no tablecloths, no rugs…no white women, period. Except for her.
    She