Rocky Mountain Rendezvous by Misty M. Beller EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: Misty M. Beller
- Language: English
- Genre: American Historical Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
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JULY 1837
GREEN RIVER VALLEY (FUTURE WYOMING)
Ants. The men looked like an army of ants crawling around in the valley
below.
Juniper Collins studied the chaotic sight from atop her horse far above on
the mountain pass. Her mount shifted beneath her, the mare’s movement
uneasy. The action seemed to set off the same agitation in her sisters’ horses
on either side of her. The four of them had come hundreds of miles and
traveled nearly two months on this mission, but they hadn’t expected the
trapper rendezvous to look like this.
Mayhap horde would be the better word for the mass spreading before her.
A horde of men and horses and lodges and . . . Air congealed in her lungs.
How would they ever find someone in this madness who knew the Peigan
Blackfoot woman named Steps Right?
“Oh my.” Rosemary, the oldest of the four sisters, spoke just as the first
shouts echoed across the open land.
“Wagon ho!” a man’s gruff voice yelled.
“It’s here!” The fellows nearest them waved hats.
“Let’s go, boys!”
And just like that, the horde stampeded up the slope toward them. The
whoops and yells charged ahead of the men, all racing toward the wagons
right beside Juniper and her sisters.
“Run!” As usual, Rosemary took charge. She spun her horse away from
the wagons, right into the flank of Juniper’s mare. Rosemary waved her hand
to shoo them all ahead of her. “Quick! Behind those rocks.”
The horses scrambled to obey as all four of them aimed toward a cluster of
boulders that would be large enough to hide them.
Juniper reined in behind her sisters to make sure no one dropped back, and
the first men reached the wagons just as she tucked her mare behind the
rocks. Some of these swarming trappers must have seen them dodge this
direction, but the wagons looked to be the biggest draw. The crazed men
probably hadn’t even realized women had arrived with the supplies they’d
been waiting all year to trade for.
“Ho up! Ho there, I say!” Mr. Provost waved his hat and spun his horse,
his shout barely rising above the clamor.
A gunshot ripped through the air, its boom finally lowering the volume of
the trappers a small bit.
“Quiet!” Again Mr. Provost bellowed above the commotion.
The trappers ignored him as they surged around the wagons.
Two more rifles fired, puffs of gunsmoke clouding around the drivers of
two of the middle wagons.
At last, the mountain men stopped pressing forward, and an unsteady quiet
settled over the group.
Mr. Provost’s voice sounded once more, this time not as frantic. “Settle
down, the lot of ya. No trading until morning, an hour after sunup. Any man
who touches these wagons before then will be shot.”
A grumble spread through the crowd, but the mass of men eased away
from the rigs. Mr. Provost turned his mount toward the first wagon and
moved in front of the lead mules. “Make a road, men. Make a road.”
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