Uncivilized

  Uncivilized

  By

  Laura Stapleton

  Undeniable

  By Laura L. Stapleton

  Text Copyright © 2016 Laura L Stapleton

  Cover Image Copyright © 2016 Laura L Stapleton

  All Rights Reserved

  Smashwords Edition

  No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author or publisher.

  Names, characters, and incidences are imaginary. The places are real, though some are difficult to find. No animals were harmed in the writing of this book, although some were cuddled and given treats.

  CURRENT AND FUTURE BOOKS

  The Oregon Trail Series

  Undeniable (The Oregon Trail Series) - Book 1

  Undesirable (The Oregon Trail Series) - Book 2

  Uncivilized (The Oregon Trail Series) - Book 3

  The Oregon Trail Series Short Stories

  The Very Manly Series

  The Very Best Man (The Very Manly Series) - Book 1

  The Very Worst Man (The Very Manly Series) - Book 2

  The Very Rich Man (The Very Manly Series) - Book 3

  The Nova Scotia Murder Mysteries

  Imposter: A Nova Scotia Murder Mystery

  Holidays (A Nova Scotia Murder Mystery)

  Betrayal: A Nova Scotia Murder Mystery

  Impatience: A Nova Scotia Murder Mystery

  Pleasures: A Nova Scotia Murder Mystery

  Surplus: A Nova Scotia Murder Mystery (Future Release)

  Appearances: A Nova Scotia Murder Mystery (Future Release)

  Rage: A Nova Scotia Murder Mystery (Future Release)

  Honeymoon: A Nova Scotia Murder Mystery (Future Release)

  Love’s Travel

  Love's Prisoner (Love's Travels: Australia)

  DEDICATION

  Dedicated for all the readers who have read the series so far. You are exactly why I do this

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  So many people to thank with this one! First off my family for tolerating my computer time and going to every museum. Their patience while I read all the historical markers helped, too. If your last name is or has been Kelley, Rowland, Stapleton, Baker, or Foutz, I’m talking to you.

  I’d like to thank Julie Mason, Wayne Keeler, Nancy Rodman, Donna Rogers, Philip Lacasse, Miranda Nading, Jane Jobson, Kelly Abel, and Cassandra Janey. This group encourages my good and helps fix my bad. I love them.

  Finally, the original pioneers. Without them, I’d have no facts to check and this would be science fiction or fantasy

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  Other books by Laura Stapleton

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Ellen Winslow stared at the tall savage talking to her friends before going back to the shoes for trade. She tried not to frown, not wanting the native girl in her buckskin dress to think she disapproved of the moccasins. The outdoor market, dignified in being called a trading post, closed in around her. Had she not seen enough of the smelly brutes today? She glanced back at her trail leader, Samuel Granville, as he chatted and laughed with the man as if they were old acquaintances.

  The darker man stood there like any other human being wearing a white man’s plaid cotton shirt. She squinted to focus better on him. The buckskin britches he wore and his long braid of black hair suited his cinnamon skin. This sudden approval startled her. She wondered where such a silly thought had come from. Who cared about how this thing looked in clothes? Ellen snorted when seeing him nod at a passing lady. He’d learned to mimic whites well, she thought. If her father saw this almost animal in their camp, he’d throw a wall-eyed fit.

  She and everyone in her family had heard her father, Jack Winslow, say he considered Samuel far too forgiving when it came to the natives they had encountered. Her father railed about how the newspaper back home reported new massacres every day. Women and children slaughtered like cattle, he’d reported, and yet, Mr. Granville treated this beast like any other citizen they’d encountered. She watched as the male held Marie Warren’s hand, hers dwarfed in his. Sam surprised Ellen by taking her elbow. She’d not seen him walk over to her, too focused on the interloper.

  Sam led her closer to the others. “I have a friend I’d like you to meet. I think you’ll find him endlessly fascinating. Ellen, this is Adelard Du Boise. Del, this is Miss Ellen Winslow.”

  “Mademoiselle, is it?” He took her hand and kissed it with a European flourish. “I’m very charmed and pleased there’s no Mr. Winslow.”

  Ellen struggled to keep her expression blank despite the disgust filling her. Maybe women of his own kind found him appealing but true ladies? She suspected not them. Ignoring the man she’d just met, she turned to Sam. “Mr. Granville, I’m sure this, um, gentleman will find me far too fussy for his tastes.”

  “Qu’est que c’est?” Del stared at her for a few seconds. “Fussy?”

  She gave him a tight grin. Of course he wouldn’t understand and she’d need to explain the simple word to him. “Hmm, maybe picky is more the word I should use.” Ellen withdrew her hand from his, ashamed at how long he’d touched her and she’d not noticed. How her light skin had appeared porcelain when next to his warm brown must have distracted her. “So are you from this area?”

  Adelard’s eyes sparkled when he grinned. “Yes. I live with my mother’s people, as you can see, but still appreciate my father’s society very much. I’ve had adventures in both cultures.”

  She glanced at Sam, wondering how much nearer Adelard could venture before the other man intervened. Mr. Du Boise’s personal space seemed smaller than hers. He didn’t smell bad, but she averted her head as if he did, unable to step back without being obviously rude. Aware of him waiting for her answer, she said, “How interesting.”

  “It is, actually,” said Sam. “However, I’ve heard this story before and need to get supplies.”

  “So do I, Mr. Granville,” Ellen interjected. “I’ll accompany you while Marie might keep your friend company.”

  The creature held out his arm for the other woman to take while walking. “Excellent idea! I’ll escort Madame Warren while you work.”

  Marie took his offered support. “I wouldn’t want you to be troubled.”

  “Bah! It’s no trouble for you. If Samuel is agreeable, I’ll bring today’s hunt to tonight’s dinner at your camp and share. Maybe then he can tell me how he let his Anne get away.”

  Sam’s affection for Marie shone in his eyes as he led Ellen away .“Dinner tonight will be good. There are plenty of other ladies for you there. Be aware, his tales can be taller than he is.”

  “Shh, Samuel, let me tell the lady my secrets myself.” Adelard put his arm around the woman, leaning in to tell her, “Monsieur Granville exaggerates my faults instead of my charms. He’s misguided.”

  Ellen watched and waited until Del and Marie strolled out of earshot. A tug of worry nagged at her. Keeping sight of them until the last possible moment, she sighed when the crowds swallowed them from her view. She turned to Sam. “Do you think he will be back this evening early or very late?”

  “I’m counting on early, since he’s bringing us dinner.”

  She searched his face for any hint of joking. “Him? Bringing us dinner? Should we have him taste it first to see if it’s safe to eat?” She c
lenched her teeth to keep from blurting out the savage more likely was stealing the main course.

  A long silence stretched between them as Sam stared in the couple’s direction. He at last said, “Du Boise is one of the finest men I’ve ever met. One of the most brave and trustworthy friends I’ve known.”

  Ellen crossed her arms, unwilling to believe anything positive about such a brute. “He’s a brave, certainly.” She glanced at Sam, his mouth set in a thin line and his eyes glittering with anger. Fury radiated from him like heat from the sun, and she knew she’d crossed a line with him.

  He examined the moccasins and leather boots laid out in front of them. “I don’t doubt there are some Indians who have earned your harsh judgment of them. This particular one does not. Your opinion of Del couldn’t be more wrong.” Sam smiled at the Indian woman seated behind the selection.

  Chagrined at his stern tone, she acknowledged, “You’re probably right. He’s rather fair-complected and speaks French.”

  “His father is French.”

  Small wonder his skin seemed paler, and weren’t his eyes lighter than the others too? No matter. She grabbed at the slight straw of an excuse to redeem the man and regain Sam’s good humor. “Oh! So he’s not all bad.”

  “No, just half, and I already disagree with you on which half that is.”

  His statement gave her butterflies in her stomach. No, more like moths, the kind like when she’d angered Papa. Sam had somehow known Ellen didn’t believe her own words. Not wanting to continue on in angry silence, she tried another tactic. “You must admit, newspapers and other first-hand accounts haven’t painted savag-, um, natives, in the best of light. I might be forgiven for thinking they’re a deplorable race of people.”

  “Have you ever considered a legal career? You’re persistent in debate.” He exhaled, his face and shoulders relaxing just a bit.

  The change in his demeanor reassured her. “I’ve been told that by those who know me.” Ellen followed his line of sight. Watching Marie walk with Du Boise had him distracted. Everyone knew Sam and Marie had a close friendship. People out here seemed to grow together or apart. She glanced at him, seeing how much he cared for the woman as if it’d been inked on his face. Were they intimate? Searching her recent memory, she didn’t remember a single instance where Sam and Marie’s relationship seemed inappropriate.

  The other Warrens, though, Marie’s husband Charles and his own sister, Hester? Ellen shuddered at the revolting memory of seeing them disheveled and together in the cedars near Fort Laramie. Her friend deserved a husband better than that old coot. Before she could change her mind, Ellen nudged Sam. “Mrs. Warren is a lovely person, isn’t she?”

  “What? I suppose so.” He added, “She’s kind to others.”

  Ellen gazed at various goods without really seeing them as they strolled. She’d startled him out of his daydreams and tried not to gloat. “She is. Her husband is very charming. Marie has a huge blind spot where he is concerned.” Giving him a sideways glance, she added, “Most do, I’ve seen.”

  “What do you mean by blind spot?”

  She shrugged, intent on staying casual. “A lot of people think he’s a wonderful man.”

  “I see.”

  The lilt at the end of his sentence made it sound like more of a question than a statement. His failed attempt to glean more information amused her. “You don’t right now, but keep your eyes open and you will.”

  “Is there something you need to tell me? As captain of the wagon party, I need to know when it affects the group.”

  “That’s a good question,” she said, stalling for time. Ellen couldn’t just say outright what she’d witnessed between the Warren twins. Who would believe her? She’d not believe her, either. “It’s not my place to tell you and if I did, it wouldn’t affect everyone in our group. Keep your eyes open and you’ll see soon enough.”

  He stepped aside to let a family pass by him, his eyes still staring her down for answers. “I’d prefer it if you just told me flat out.”

  “So would I, trust me, but it’s not for me to tell you.” She sighed, frustrated with her urge to be honest fighting with her need to not meddle. “When you learn for yourself, remember that I did want to tell you but….”

  “It’s not for you to say.”

  “Exactly! Please believe that, all right?” She linked arms with him, nodding in Marie’s direction as Du Boise led the woman back to camp. “Come on, let’s catch up with the others. You’ll find out soon enough, and it’ll most likely end up well for you.”

  As she and Sam walked back to camp, Ellen worked to keep her mind on their conversation. She fretted over whether or not she’d told him too much about the Warrens and what she’d seen. Their actions weren’t her business, and yet she felt compelled to help Marie.

  Once in the Granville camp, she smiled when Sam tipped his hat farewell. He’d been talking about his friend and Ellen now regretted not listening to every word. The Indian’s refined manner had led her into trusting he wouldn’t slit their throats as they slept. She shuddered, imagining her little brothers harmed in such a bloody way. He might merely need to kidnap one of them as a slave. Their mother continued her slow recovery from an earlier illness, but she’d not survive being captured. Her father? Ellen didn’t even want to admit to him she’d talked to the beast, never mind that she’d accepted a kiss on the hand. Mr. Winslow’s explosive temper could cause a war.

  Keeping quiet about her fears, she helped her stepmother lead their two milk cows to good grass. All during chores her mind was unable to let go of Du Boise. No matter how it offended Sam, she couldn’t help but think of the man as a half crazed savage. Even if he’d spoken his barbaric native language, Ellen knew how well he’d behave in regular society. Anyone could see the intelligent light in his handsome brown eyes. She paused while thinking of what she could learn from Adelard if he were as civilized as Sam had said.

  “Ellie?” Lucy Winslow drew near with the baby on her hip. “Are you doing well? You’ve been quieter than usual.”

  “Yes.” She hoped omitting her thoughts wasn’t the same as lying. “Just dwelling on all the people at the trading village.”

  “Oh?” Lucy licked her fingertips and wiped Buster’s dirty face. As the child squirmed, she continued, “I was concerned about you three girls going until I saw Mr. Granville with you.”

  Glad to find something to agree with, Ellen said, “So was I.”

  Her stepmother gave a tsk-tsk sound while setting the baby on their wagon’s tailgate. “Such a shame he’s so fickle with the ladies. Your father and I had hopes you’d catch his eye.”

  Ellen repressed a sigh. This was an old refrain sung by her parents. She did like Sam, even loved him like one of her brothers, but had never thought of him as a romantic interest.

  Lucy changed Buster’s diaper, giving him fresh pants as well. “You do know Mr. Granville invited us to dinner tonight, specially.”

  The news surprised her. “Oh? Did he mention why us?”

  “No. I think he’s just being neighborly.” She sighed. “All his crew will be there. Maybe you’ll take a liking to one of them.”

  Ellen tried to agree. “It’s possible, I suppose.”

  “You jest but another man in our family would make life easier on your father.” With Buster back on her hip, she faced her stepdaughter. “You’re very close to spinsterhood. Not that it’s important out in the middle of nowhere, but still.”

  Ellen felt sure she already helped out as much if not more than any son or son-in-law. “I’ll see what I can do to find a husband to help Pa.” She almost wanted to marry the first male who’d have her, if only to appease her father.

  “Good. Your pa is already with Mr. Granville and his company. Would you please bring our dishes? Thank you, dear.”

  Skeeter ran up to her. “Sis! Did you hear? We’re going to a dinner with Mr. Sam and his new friend!” He grabbed her free hand. “Did you see him? He’s a real live Indian!�
�

  “I did see him. He’s a very nice…person.” She grinned at him, putting the last fork in the bucket.

  The boy bobbed up and down like a yoyo. “Did you talk to him? Did he talk back?”

  They walked toward Sam’s camp, and she chuckled at his amazed expression. “We did, both of us to each other. Imagine that.” As soon as the words left her mouth she wanted to grab them back. Now she’d need to think of a good, calming excuse to tell Pa as to why she had to speak to Adelard.

  “Gosh! He knows our language?”

  She had to admit the truth to Skeeter despite her prejudices. “He does and a couple of others besides.”

  He shook his head. “A real Indian who can speak to anyone?” The boy looked up at his sister. “I want to be like him when I grow up.”

  Ellen gasped. That wasn’t something their father needed to hear. “Anyone can learn another language. You already know English. German is similar and would make Pa happy, while Mr. Granville and Mrs. Warren could speak French to you. I know they would be willing to teach you a few words.” They reached the main wagon, cutting off any further conversation.

  Their parents waited for them while seated on a blanket. She stumbled a little when seeing her father’s furious expression. Had she been so long in bringing their dishes? She glanced at her little brother. It couldn’t be either of their faults. She scanned the group seated and trembled at the sight of Del. The stone-faced fury Ellen saw on his dark face terrified her. While her father scared her, his temper was a known danger. Adelard was just danger. She stood transfixed, not noticing until Jack bumped into her that he’d stood and was leaving.

  Jack barked, “Family, follow.”

  His wife jumped up, obeying without hesitation. Lucy held their youngest son and gave him no chance to argue. Before minding out of habit, Ellen paused. Her family hadn’t eaten this well in a while, and the heavenly smell of food tempted her sorely to stay.