Seed of Evil Read Free Page A

polite. And to gauge how they’ll cut into our profits.” St. Vrain grinned. “They sell coffee.”
    “Where is this place?”
    “About four miles northeast of your old cabin, along the foothills. They built it in a basin they call Mud Hollow. There’s a creek but no one has given it a name yet. The man who runs the store calls himself Toad,” St. Vrain chuckled. “I kid you not.”
    “What is he like?”
    “The name fits. But do you want to hear something even more interesting? This Toad has five helpers. His clerks, he calls them. You met the gentlemen a few minutes ago. They were here to buy flour and sugar from us. Seems their own shipment was short.”
    “You mean…?”
    “Yes. Those men you encountered on your way in. Mr. Petrie and Mr. Geist and the others.”
    “Petrie doesn’t strike me as the store clerk type.”
    “Me, neither,” St. Vrain said.
    Nate gazed out over the west wall toward the distant mountains. “So what you’re saying is that there is more to this than meets the eye?”
    “I suspect so, yes. And I thought you would like to know.”
    “Damn,” Nate King said.

Chapter Four
    The foothills rose in serial ranks. Those covered with more grass than trees were light green; those covered with more trees than grass were dark green. Interspersed here and there was the brown of barren hills, the ground too rocky to support plant life.
    The new trading post was easy enough to find.
    Rutted tracks left by the wagons that hauled the trade goods wound among the hills to a broad hollow. A meandering creek had formed a pond so shallow it looked to be more mud than water. Thus, evidently, the name the owner of the store had chosen—Mud Hollow.
    The store was well constructed. It was two stories, the bottom built from pine logs, the top from boards. There were windows with glass. There were also gun ports, a lot of gun ports, on all four sides. A corral was at the rear, a long hitch rail in front. A large sign proclaimed to the world that it was TOAD ’ S MERCANTILE .
    “I’ll be damned,” Nate said.
    “Why?” Chases Rabbits asked.
    The young warrior and his companions had accompanied Nate from Bent’s Fort. Cradled in Chases Rabbits’ arm was his new rifle, a smoothbore with a thirty-inch barrel, manufactured in London.
    Nate didn’t mind the company. In fact, he’d taken advantage and tried to talk his young friend out ofventuring into Blackfoot territory. So far he hadn’t been successful.
    “Big lodge,” Chases Rabbits said with a nod at the mercantile. “Heap important man live here.”
    “He’d sure like you to think so.”
    Several horses with saddles were at the hitch rail. In the corral were more without, milling or dozing. A short way past the mercantile, the three men Nate had seen with Geist and Petrie were erecting what appeared to be a stable or barn. All three, he noticed, kept pistols under their belts and knives in their sheaths as they went about their work.
    “Me like this place,” Chases Rabbits said.
    “We haven’t been inside yet.” Nate dismounted and tied the reins to the hitch rail.
    The door was open. From inside came voices and laugher. A wide window revealed a counter that ran the length of the room and rows of shelves piled with goods. To one side were several tables with linen and silverware.
    A man was staring back through the window at Nate. He smiled, then came outside, his hand outstretched as he had offered it at Bent’s Fort. “Mr. King. Fancy seeing you again so soon.”
    “Mr. Geist,” Nate said.
    “You must have heard about us at the fort and come for a look-see.”
    “Something like that.”
    “Allow me to show you around.” Geist smiled at the Crows. “You and your friends. Indians are always welcome. They’ll be a large part of our trade.”
    “You’re in business with this Toad, then?”
    “Oh, no,” Geist quickly answered. “Toad is the boss. I’m just another of the hired help.”
    The inside smelled of tobacco