The Yellowstone by Win Blevins Page A

be in his debt—might he loan men to help with construction? Since Mac’s men would be out collecting animals for Sir William, whom Genet was honored to have met last summer, they could bring in meat for the fort as well. That way they would earn their keep—more than earn it, certainly, and Genet was again obliged. Would Mac like corn for his livestock?
    Mac feared Genet would be fired at any time. Fortunately, Reshaw also wanted Mac and his men as winterers. He was tired of Genet’s lugubrious company, and seemed to like the Americans, and the money the Americans might lose at cards.
    Mac thought Fort Platte might be able to give the older and more established Fort Laramie a run for its money. It was big, important-looking—adobe walls eleven feet high and roughly two hundred paces around—and had plenty of whiskey. If only Genet didn’t mess everything up.
    Mac divided his forces. Since Skinhead was full of talk about the big bonus he would earn from Cap’n Stewart, he was in charge of the hunting. The Black Hills to the west were a home to every kind of beast, especially mountain lions, bighorn sheep, and the silver-tip bears, the grizzlies. Mac told him, truthfully, that capturing them live would be hard, a job for an old hand like Skinhead. Some would have to be snared, others stunned with neck shots. Skinhead intended to work the rest of the autumn and all winter on this project—bears might be less tricky to catch when they were hibernating. The buffalo and antelope he’d gather up last—they were so easy. And he’d surely be ready to head for Westport early in the spring. Skinhead was all braggadocio.
    Mac took on the building projects. Horses, mules, and oxen first—they’d be too vulnerable until he got them penned at night. Sheds to store feed in—Genet wanted these, too. Other corrals for the beasts Skinhead would bring in. Plus cages. Mac had brought Blue and a bunch of log-working tools—double-bitted ax, adze, bow saw, two-man crosscut saw—just for this purpose. Blue was an expert cabin builder.
    Mac also set a man to repairing the wagons hauled west, and even making new ones. He thought about making a short trip out to some nearby Sioux to trade the goods he’d brought out. And he teased himself with a bigger idea: Why not do the trading with the Cheyennes, up in front of the Big Horn Mountains, and see Annemarie?
    Blue’s mooning after Lisette was the joke of the post. Such a big fellow, so mild, so nice. He’d never abuse her. Lisette acted as if she couldn’t stand him. She flirted openly with several of the post staff, most provocatively with Reshaw, a small, dark, muscular, and rather dashing fellow. She acted as if she didn’t give a damn that he was supposed to marry some Arapahoe woman soon.
    One night early in December, Mac, Blue, Skinhead, and Genet were playing whist in the dining room. Genet generally didn’t like cards—they were a sign of this degraded prairie life, which he despised—but he acquiesced to whist, which was more civilized.
    Tonight’s game was not much of a contest. Blue didn’t understand it, and impulsive Skinhead was bored because he couldn’t win or lose a pile on the single, dramatic turn of a card.
    A clatter from next door—Genet’s quarters. A body crashing into the common wall, it sounded like. A woman’s voice shouting, and a man’s.
    Poor Genet jumped for the common door. The other three hurried outside.
    Reshaw ran out Genet’s front door into the courtyard, hauling up his pants. Lisette threw something at him, a candlestick, skittering across the frozen earth. She cursed him. She said something about his manhood. Reshaw scurried off. Little One stepped out into the courtyard and maligned him again. She was entirely naked. She looked across at Blue, Mac, and Skinhead saucily, and cocked her hips. Her father’s arm pulled her roughly back inside.
    They closed the door and sat back down at the table. Blue looked to Mac sorrowful, not