Read Online Deep as the Rivers (Santa Fe Trilogy) by Shirl Henke - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Shirl Henke
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brother-in-law come to understand each other better.
“As always, Liza had everyone eating out of the palm of her hand,” he said to Santiago. “Postmaster Easton and Mr. Charles, the editor of the Gazette , had very definite opinions about the danger of having Indians live so near the city.”
“Somehow I never thought a leading citizen such as James Rogers a menace. And I can’t imagine his white wife scalping anyone,” Santiago replied, his eyes hooded as he studied Shelby.
“Jamie Rogers is a Shawnee and they’ve lived peacefully with Missouri settlers for a generation and have become completely ‘civilized’,” Elise interjected, knowing her husband was merely baiting her brother.
“Not at all like his fellow Shawnee to the north, Tecumseh,” Shelby replied with equanimity. Quinn was heir to an old Spanish title which he spurned, preferring the unlikely appellation given him the length of the Santa Fe Trail—White Apache. He had spent his youth living among the Lipan Apaches and trusted no white government, not even his wife’s.
“Yes, Tecumseh is hostile now, but he was not always. Your government’s broken promises and land-greedy settlers drove him to hate the United States,” Santiago replied.
“I’ll grant that he had justification, but I suspect there was also just a bit of encouragement for his anti-American sentiments from our British neighbors to the north,” Shelby replied dryly, not wanting to be drawn into an argument.
Elise grew thoughtful as she weighed the evidence that there would soon be war not only at sea, but here on America’s frontier as well. “I’m certain that young War Hawk William Henry Harrison is eager to deal with all the northern tribes who ally with Britain.”
“That’s his problem. Mine is trying to find out who’s supplying whiskey and weapons to the Indians in the Missouri and Mississippi valleys. If all the tribes in the region ally with Britain, these rivers will run red with blood. Manuel Lisa seems to think a Scot called the Red Head could be the agitator,” Shelby said, studying Quinn’s reaction.
Knowing the man to whom Samuel referred, Quinn replied, “Robert Dickson is a British agent, but I’ve never heard that he comes as far south as this. He pretty much keeps to Prairie du Chien and environs. I know the Osage have had no dealings with him. So does Lisa. After all, he’s been appointed a special agent by Washington, just to keep them in line.”
“And so he has—he and our most gracious host’s brother Pierre,” Elise said, looking across the room at the elegant and ever genial Auguste Chouteau.
“The Osage are the most powerful tribe in the region. If they desert us, the Sauks, Foxes, Sioux and Kaws will certainly follow suit,” Shelby replied with a worried frown. “Since your traders travel through their territory, you should be concerned.”
“So should you after investing your life savings in my trading company,” Santiago said with an arrogant grin.
“The Osage nations have been our most loyal friends,” Elise interjected. Her husband was especially friendly with those Indians. “Chief Pawhuska pledged himself loyal to the American government,” she added as if that settled the matter.
But for Shelby, it didn’t. “He’s getting older now. What about the young hotheads I’ve been hearing about—Bad Temper and Man Whipper?” His eyes moved from his sister to Santiago.
Quinn shrugged. “Keep your settlers off their land and don’t let any of the white men start taking potshots at Indian women picking berries. Then tribal leadership will be able to keep peace.”
Shelby looked dubious as Elise continued to oil the waters between them.
Across the room, Olivia St. Etienne gnawed her lip as she watched the beautiful raven-haired woman place her hand proprietarily on Samuel Shelby’s arm. She recognized the
“As always, Liza had everyone eating out of the palm of her hand,” he said to Santiago. “Postmaster Easton and Mr. Charles, the editor of the Gazette , had very definite opinions about the danger of having Indians live so near the city.”
“Somehow I never thought a leading citizen such as James Rogers a menace. And I can’t imagine his white wife scalping anyone,” Santiago replied, his eyes hooded as he studied Shelby.
“Jamie Rogers is a Shawnee and they’ve lived peacefully with Missouri settlers for a generation and have become completely ‘civilized’,” Elise interjected, knowing her husband was merely baiting her brother.
“Not at all like his fellow Shawnee to the north, Tecumseh,” Shelby replied with equanimity. Quinn was heir to an old Spanish title which he spurned, preferring the unlikely appellation given him the length of the Santa Fe Trail—White Apache. He had spent his youth living among the Lipan Apaches and trusted no white government, not even his wife’s.
“Yes, Tecumseh is hostile now, but he was not always. Your government’s broken promises and land-greedy settlers drove him to hate the United States,” Santiago replied.
“I’ll grant that he had justification, but I suspect there was also just a bit of encouragement for his anti-American sentiments from our British neighbors to the north,” Shelby replied dryly, not wanting to be drawn into an argument.
Elise grew thoughtful as she weighed the evidence that there would soon be war not only at sea, but here on America’s frontier as well. “I’m certain that young War Hawk William Henry Harrison is eager to deal with all the northern tribes who ally with Britain.”
“That’s his problem. Mine is trying to find out who’s supplying whiskey and weapons to the Indians in the Missouri and Mississippi valleys. If all the tribes in the region ally with Britain, these rivers will run red with blood. Manuel Lisa seems to think a Scot called the Red Head could be the agitator,” Shelby said, studying Quinn’s reaction.
Knowing the man to whom Samuel referred, Quinn replied, “Robert Dickson is a British agent, but I’ve never heard that he comes as far south as this. He pretty much keeps to Prairie du Chien and environs. I know the Osage have had no dealings with him. So does Lisa. After all, he’s been appointed a special agent by Washington, just to keep them in line.”
“And so he has—he and our most gracious host’s brother Pierre,” Elise said, looking across the room at the elegant and ever genial Auguste Chouteau.
“The Osage are the most powerful tribe in the region. If they desert us, the Sauks, Foxes, Sioux and Kaws will certainly follow suit,” Shelby replied with a worried frown. “Since your traders travel through their territory, you should be concerned.”
“So should you after investing your life savings in my trading company,” Santiago said with an arrogant grin.
“The Osage nations have been our most loyal friends,” Elise interjected. Her husband was especially friendly with those Indians. “Chief Pawhuska pledged himself loyal to the American government,” she added as if that settled the matter.
But for Shelby, it didn’t. “He’s getting older now. What about the young hotheads I’ve been hearing about—Bad Temper and Man Whipper?” His eyes moved from his sister to Santiago.
Quinn shrugged. “Keep your settlers off their land and don’t let any of the white men start taking potshots at Indian women picking berries. Then tribal leadership will be able to keep peace.”
Shelby looked dubious as Elise continued to oil the waters between them.
Across the room, Olivia St. Etienne gnawed her lip as she watched the beautiful raven-haired woman place her hand proprietarily on Samuel Shelby’s arm. She recognized the
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