Seed of Evil Read Free

orders brandy by the case?”
    St. Vrain grinned, then fixed his attention on the Crows. “Friends of yours?”
    Nate introduced Chases Rabbits. “He’s here to trade for a rifle.”
    “How much furs you want for long gun?” the young warrior asked.
    “The going rate is ten buffalo robes,” St. Vrain informed him. “I give you my word it will be a quality piece and not blow up in your face like some of Hudson Bay’s trade rifles did. You can hunt with confidence.”
    “He wants the rifle to kill Blackfeet,” Nate said.
    “You don’t say.”
    “You don’t say what?” Chases Rabbits asked.
    “We don’t sell rifles for tribes to make war,” St. Vrain informed him. “We sell them to use to hunt and so you can protect yourself.”
    “Me not make war. Me count coup.”
    “There’s a woman,” Nate said.
    St. Vrain arched an eyebrow. “You live a complicated life, young sir.”
    “Me do?” Chases Rabbits scratched his chin. “How I live it and not know it?”
    St. Vrain motioned. “Let’s not block the gate. You and your friends are welcome so long as you obey the rules. Come on in.”
    “Rules?” Chases Rabbits said.
    “No hard spirits are allowed inside the walls. No discharging of firearms. No fighting. No quarreling. Any disputes, you come to me or Bill or Charles Bent, and we’ll resolve the issue. One of us is always on the premises. Do you understand all I’ve told you?”
    “What be spirits?”
    “Liquor. Whiskey. Scotch. Rum. You name it. That includes ale and beer. We are most strict about alcohol.”
    “White man’s drink,” Chases Rabbits said. “Smell like horse piss. Me never drink. Crow who drink not be Crow anymore.”
    “Good for you, young sirrah.”
    “What that mean?”
    “Your English has gaps, doesn’t it?”
    “Many,” Nate said.
    “Come on in,” St. Vrain repeated, and after Nate and the Crows had ridden through, he nodded at two guards, who promptly closed the gate.
    The central square bustled with freighters and other visitors. At the northwest and southeast corners were towers with field pieces. A blacksmith shop was near the gate. Nate made for the hitch rail in front of it.
    “Have supper with me and invite your amusing friend,” St. Vrain suggested, falling into step. “Perhaps we can dissuade him from getting himself killed.”
    “I’ve been trying.”
    “But he refuses to listen because he’s young and stubborn and in love.”
    “Weren’t we all once?”
    “What else do you need besides coffee? Or did you come all this way just for that?”
    “Don’t start. I get ribbed enough by Winona and Shakespeare. I don’t need to hear it from you.”
    “I’m just surprised you came all this way when you have somewhere so much closer to get your supplies.”
    Nate stopped. “What are you talking about?”
    “You don’t know?” St. Vrain smoothed his fine coat and clasped his hands behind his back. “I would have thought word had spread all over the Rockies by now.”
    “Keep me in suspense, why don’t you?”
    St. Vrain smiled. “How many settlers would you say there are in the foothills and deeper in? Besides the five families in King Valley, that is.”
    Nate shrugged. “About fifteen to eighteen, I reckon.”
    “Oh, it’s more than that. The Wards, the Kendals, and there are many others. It’s closer to two dozen, I would say. Enough, I imagine, to support the new general store that has opened for business.”
    Genuine shock gripped Nate. Stores and taverns were cornerstones of civilization, and until this moment he had cherished the reality that civilization, with all its many ills, was a thousand miles away, far across the prairie and the wide Mississippi. “Please tell me you’re jesting.”
    “Would that I were. I don’t appreciate having competition, but it’s competition on a small scale. They don’t sell nearly as much as we do. Mainly the basics, and drink and food.”
    “You’ve been there?”
    “A social call, to be