Gray Hawk's Lady: Blackfoot Warriors, Book 1 Read Free Page B

possible that we could finish your manuscript without an account of this tribe?” she asked. “Especially since the Blackfeet appear to be more savage than the rest? Oh, I’ve heard the whole story, of course: that the trouble with the Blackfeet originally started when the Lewis and Clark expedition ventured into their territory, killing two tribe members. But the killings had all been done in self-defense. Everyone knows that. Surely the Blackfeet wouldn’t hold a man guilty for defending himself, would they?”
    Or would they? It was a common fact that from that incident forward, the Blackfeet had vowed to kill any further intruders into their land.
    Genevieve glanced at her father. He still stared straight ahead of him.
    She grimaced. “It’s hard to believe,” she spoke to her father quietly, taking his hand in her own. “The incident with Lewis and Clark took place almost thirty years ago. What sort of people would harbor a grudge for thirty long years?
    “Is it possible, Father, that your publishers might extend your deadline? There has been a fort close by to their country now for three years. Why, even last week I read something about a steamship that will be sailing soon on a voyage up the Missouri River to that outpost. I think it’s called Fort Union. Surely no land will remain savage for long, or a people continue to be so antagonistic when there are a great many civilizing influences coming into it. If we could only have more time.”
    She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.
    That was the problem. They had little time left to complete this project. And with her father ill and Mr. Toddman in rebellion, she was afraid the bulk of responsibility for the project was now going to fall upon her.
    Was she up to handling it?
    Was it possible that she, a mere woman, could succeed in seeing the manuscript finished when the men in her life had so far failed?
    “Genny?”
    “Yes, Father?” She opened her eyes.
    “Did you read the letter?” Viscount Rohan gripped her hands as she leaned over him.
    “No, Father, not yet. But I—”
    “Read it, then…oh,” he said, as Genevieve picked up the paper, “never mind.” He glanced at the ceiling. “It doesn’t make any difference now. It’s impossible, I tell you. Can’t get the bloody Blackfeet here. Can’t go to them. But I need to, Genny; I must…or else…”
    “Father, what—”
    “Look at the letter. It’s from the publisher. They won’t even consider the project finished without a study of every major American tribe. And they specifically include the Blackfeet. But that’s not all. Oh, Genny, what can I do but get out of bed? I must go there, and I must leave here at once.”
    As the viscount made to get up, Genny gently pushed him back onto the pillows. “You’ll not be going anywhere. Not until the doctor says you’re able.”
    Viscount Rohan flopped back against the bed. “Oh, what am I to do? What am I to do?”
    “It may not be as bad as you think. I just this morning had a talk with Mr. Toddman, and he believes it might yet be possible to get someone from the tribe to come here. He’s hired another couple of trappers.”
    “Won’t do any good.”
    Genevieve frowned. “What do you mean? Isn’t that what we’ve been trying to do these past few months?”
    “Read the letter, Genny. Read the letter.”
    “Yes, Father, but I…” Her voice trailed off, her gaze already skimming the paper in her hand. “I don’t see what—” She sucked in her breath, barely managing to keep her grasp on the letter. “Oh my…how can this be? It’s not possible.”
    “It’s what I would have thought too, Genny, but as you can see, it’s already happening.”
    “I don’t understand. I thought Mr. Catlin was merely painting the Indians’ portraits…”
    “It happens all the time. Haven’t you noticed how, the moment you get a project in mind, you have to act on it right away or someone else steals it from you?”
    “No, I