The Outcast Read Free Page B

day.
    He never thought of whites as anything but enemies. They were like the Nez Perce, to be killed wherever he found them.
    Now he came to a small clearing ringed by pines. Dismounting, he slid his bow and quiver from the sheath and glided lower. He must learn more about these whites. It wasn’t wise to attack an enemy until you knew the enemy’s strength. He wouldn’t risk being seen until he was ready to be seen. He flattened himself on the ground about an arrow’s flight from the wooden lodge.
    The lodge, from what little the Outcast knew of the dwellings, was sturdily built. To one side was a pen for the horses. To the other were several small structures. In front of one of those were plump birds that clucked and pecked the ground. His mouth watered and his stomach growled as he imagined roasting the plumpest over a crackling fire.
    Laughter came from within the lodge. The young woman must be goodnatured, he reasoned, to laugh so much. Everyone always told him whites were grim, but she wasn’t.
    From where he lay, the Outcast could see other dwellings across the lake. Smoke rose from only one. The wooden lodge at the west end and the long, low lodge to the east showed no signs of life. He wondered if they were empty, and if so, where the people who lived in them had gone.
    Presently a rectangle of wood opened and out came the old man and the young woman. The woman was smiling and happy. The old man placed a hand on her shoulder and said something in the white tongue that caused her to touch her belly and to shake her head. Then the old man kissed her on the forehead and went off around the lake. When he looked back, the woman waved, and he waved back.
    The Outcast speculated that maybe the old man was her father.
    Still holding her belly, the young woman walked to the water’s edge and stood, staring across the lake. The wind fanned her hair, and she idly brushed at stray wisps.
    She interested the Outcast, this woman. She was small and dainty, as the woman he never thought about had been, and she had a grace about her that he found appealing. The thought jarred him. He must remember who he was and what she was and not let her stir his feelings. He had given up the right to feel long ago.
    Just then, to the west, someone yelled. The woman turned and smiled and ran to meet a young man who carried a dead grouse over his shoulder. They embraced with much passion, and the woman kissed him on the mouth. Together they moved toward the wooden lodge.
    The Outcast dug his fingers dug into the earth until his knuckles were pale. Here was another reminder of the life he once had lived. He’d had a wife and a lodge, and been full of joy.
    His eyes narrowed. There was something unusual about the young man. He’d taken him for a red man, but now that he was closer, the Outcast saw that her husband was a half-breed. Yet another surprise. He’d been told that whites didn’t like breeds.
    Not that it mattered.
    Right then and there the Outcast made up his mind.
    He was going to kill them.
    Zach King couldn’t believe the fuss his wife was making over supper. She insisted he wash up after he plucked and butchered the grouse, and made him don his best buckskins. She put a vase of those yellow flowers she liked on the table. She brought out her precious china and her fancy silverware. She even put a candle in the center of the table and lit it.
    â€œAre we having company?” It was the only explanation Zach could think of. She never went to this much bother any other time. “Did you invite Shakespeare and Blue Water Woman?”
    Louisa was spooning potato soup into a bowl. She had changed into her one and only dress, which she had sent for out of a catalog and picked up at Bent’s Fort the last time they were there. “No. But he did stop by today and asked if you wanted to go hunting with him tomorrow.”
    â€œWhat is he going after? Did he say?”
    Lou shook her head.