Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 03] by Almost Eden Page B

kind like Jeff’s brother, Jason? Would he be able to protect her if the three of them jumped him? He sized up the men as they drew near them.
    The one who had called out was obviously in charge. Light knew that instinctively. A wide-shouldered man with a lean, strong-boned face, the boatman seemed to be thirty-odd years old.
    The dark one appeared slightly older. Gray streaked his hair. He was thick in the chest and his legs were like tree trunks. Light suspected that he was not a leader, but a man with strong convictions who would fight for what he considered his due. If he could be judged by the jaunty angle at which he wore his fur cap, he had a cheerful disposition.
    The other man was as tall as the light-haired one but much heavier. The hand holding his fire-piece was the size of a ham. He was hatless and hairless, his head slick as a peeled onion. Intuition and experience had taught Light to read men as he would a forest trail. The bald head was small for a big man, his features lean and vulpine, his eyes like those of a weasel. This was a man to watch.
    Maggie could feel the intense gaze of the men as they approached, and she hated it. Men always stared at her. She glanced at each one briefly, then kept her eyes turned away but furtively alert for sudden movement.
    She freed Light’s hand should sudden action be required, and hooked her fingers in the belt at his back where he carried his long hunting knife. Her other hand hovered over the thin-bladed knife in her scabbard.
    Maggie was worried. Sensitive to every change in her husband’s demeanor, she knew he was tense, untrustful of these men.
    Light stopped a good distance from the men. He studied the still face and squinted eyes of the one who had called out to him. The man was looking at
him
and not at Maggie as the other two were doing.
    “How do you come to know my name?” Light asked, breaking the silence.
    “Baptiste Lightbody?”
    Light nodded.
    “Jefferson Merrick said you were the best.”
    “Best at what?”
    “Best woodsman, best hunter, best riverman.”
    Light shrugged. “Merrick is my friend.”
    “We heard you shoot.”
    “Delaware.”
    The man nodded. “We better get the hell out of here. They’re all along this part of the river.”
    “Why did you call my name?”
    “Figured it was a lone . . . white man who sent the partially butchered deer carcass downriver.”
    “I’m Osage.”
    “French and Osage,” the man said, then added. “Baptiste is French.”
    “What do you want with me?” Light asked impatiently.
    “You’re headed for the Bluffs. So are we. Merrick said you’re the best scout in the territory. And we could use an extra hand on the poles.”
    Light had no intention of going to the Bluffs, but he let the statement stand.
    “What happened to your crew?”
    “Two men deserted the first week. Two more took our canoe a week back and left in the night. ’Course they won’t make it. None of them had the brains of a flea. Loss of a good canoe is what it amounts to. We put in thinking you were in a tight spot and needed help.”
    Light’s dark eyes met blue ones and held. There was something familiar about this man, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Caught in the scope of Light’s vision, the bald-headed man’s eyes were still on Maggie.
    “We’ve had two run-ins with the Delaware. They wanted the horses and they got them this time.”
    “I heard that they take prisoners if they can.”
    “Death by torture is a ritual among the Delaware.”
    “That’s not exactly my idea of a good time.” The stocky man’s worried eyes searched the forest.
    “I’m a trader. Name’s Eli Nielson.” The leader of the group introduced himself. “I’m taking a small cargo upriver. I plan to buy furs and bring them back to St. Louis.”
    He would not get that boat anywhere near the Bluffs with
two crewmen.
Light kept his thoughts to himself. He looked straight at the bald-headed man, whose lustful eyes were so