"When you are given love, is it that hard not to return it?" She asked simply. "Now I ask you a question."
"Alright, ask."
"You are a white man, why would you risk so much to save me? You are right. I do not understand, but I will try to learn to. I think…. maybe you are a very good man…for a white man, that is."
He shook his head with disgust and walked off.
For a white man.
He needed to get her to her people and then he could be on
his way. Of course, he didn't know where he was going to go. He guessed he could go out to California and hunt for Gold. Or work a ranch in Texas. But right now, he had no direction.
Did she think all white men were savages? Then he thought on that and frowned. She'd been raped, and was now pregnant, and he needed to get her to her people before she had the baby. Strange that an Indian would think all white men savages, when that's exactly what the white man thought of the Indian men. Ironic.
She was a pretty girl, young like himself and obviously had been an innocent. But Indians thought differently. Much differently. Perhaps that's why they could never stop warring with each other. They never took the time to try to understand each other. He was learning, a bit at a time, but learning.
Chapter Three
On the third day, they ran into some fur trappers. Five of the biggest, burliest men Matt had ever seen. Matt eyed them with precision. The size of a man wasn't measured in brawn and he knew it. Although he couldn't match them shoulder to shoulder, he was a fighter when riled. Still, peace was preferable over a fight. He'd learned that the hard way a long time ago.
"Well now, what we have here?" The oldest one of the bunch asked. He had thick dark hair, and bushy dark brows, with the blackest eyes Matt had ever seen. He must have had Mexican or Indian blood, Matt surmised. Naturally he wouldn't be mentioning it though.
Breeds were shunned by both the white and obviously the Indians too, if Snow Bird was right about Too Tall.
"Just traveling through friend." Matt told the man.
"You got a squaw, son?" The man questioned, eyeing Snow Bird with interest.
Thinking quickly, he nodded, "That's right."
Snow Bird watched carefully, listening but not objecting.
"Kind of young ain't ya?" He asked baring a set of teeth that were nearly as white as the snow. Matt found that an interesting characteristic as most mountain men were not known for their cleanliness.
"I'm not as young as I look," Matt bowed up.
The big man laughed, "I like you, young fella. You speak right up. My name is Ferguson."
"Matt Younger," He told them.
"And her?"
"Snow Bird," she came to stand beside Matt now.
"Pretty little thing, ain't she?" Ferguson said.
The others snickered, "Sure is…Ferg." One of them hollered.
"Now you gents behave, this little feller here, he's got himself a squaw, and that's no easy feat. Got to show some respect. Matt, this is Doolin."
Matt eyed Doolin a tall slender fella with yellow hair and light green eyes. He looked to be the youngest of the bunch.
"Colby," Ferg nodded to the next one in line, a little shorter than the rest, but better looking than the others.
"Raz," was bigger than all of them and had brown hair and eyes that looked right through him.
"And this is Coon? We've been trappin' up in the mountains, thought we'd come down to civilization before the snows set in. The high country is already brimming with snow. Gonna be a rough winter."