outside.”
The man eyed her Indian tunic, and then ran a hand over the silver fox. His sour expression didn’t change. “Well, get the rest then, woman.”
Antonia bristled but held back a retort. She couldn’t risk losing this sale. She turned and stalked out, leaving the door open so she didn’t have to struggle with it again. Behind her, the man yelled about letting in the flies, but she pretended she hadn’t heard him.
Antonia hefted the rest of the furs down, all but the uncured pelt of the grizzly that had killed Jean-Claude. She left that rolled on the mule, and then staggered back inside, dropping the bundle on the counter.
Mr. Cobb pointedly ignored her, instead striding around the counter, down the aisle and to the door, where he shut it with a snap before stalking back. He barely glanced at the pile on the counter. “I’ll give you five dollars for the whole shebang, and that’s it.”
What?
Behind her, Antonia heard the door open, but she didn’t turn, focusing her attention on the shopkeeper. “Non!” Fear and anger made the word come out as sharp as a knife. “These here be worth far more than five dollars.”
“Not to me they aren’t. Take the money and get out.”
Antonia’s thoughts raced. She couldn’t accept that low offer. Yet, she also couldn’t walk out of here without clothing for her and the boys, and with no money. Helplessness combined with anger, and tears welled up in her eyes. Oh no, you don’t be doin’ that, she scolded herself. You be not weepin’ for Jean-Claude, and you cain’t let this miscreant be a makin’ you cry. With all her strength, she held on to her emotions.
The sound of firm footsteps came closer, but Antonia ignored them, wanting to get control over herself before she exposed any weakness to strangers.
Mr. Cobb’s expression changed from contemptuous to obsequious. “Mr. Carter, welcome.”
He sounds like he’d like to be wipin’ this Mr. Carter’s boots.
“Good day, Mr. Cobb,” said a pleasant male voice.
Antonia turned to see a man in a blue suit and hat, far fancier than any she’d seen in years.
“No Mrs. Carter today?” Mr. Cobb asked.
“She stopped by the Mueller’s place to pick up some of those big pretzels for the children.” The man walked up the aisle. He smiled at Antonia and touched a finger to his hat.
She nodded, too upset to return his smile.
The man had a narrow face, thinning sandy hair, and kind blue eyes. His gaze lingered on her face. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m John Carter, and I have a ranch out that-away.” He waved his arm opposite from the direction she’d traveled to reach the town.
“I be Mrs. Valleau.”
“Valleau sounds French.” The comment sounded curious, not condemning.
“Yes, sir. My husband be. . . was— ”Her voice wobbled, and Antonia took a breath to strengthen it. “ French-Canadian.” She touched the edge of a fur. “A trapper.”
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Valleau. My wife, Pamela, will be along shortly, and I’m sure she’ll be happy to meet you.”
Although she detected nothing in Mr. Carter’s expression to indicate his awareness of her strange dress, Antonia was sure Mrs. Carter wouldn’t be so tolerant.
“What have we here?” Mr. Carter leaned over to examine the furs spread on the counter. “Your husband was a fine hunter, and he did an excellent job of tanning these.”
A lump rose in Antonia’s throat.
Mr. Carter ran a hand over the grizzly fur. “This one has more silver than the one I have at home.” He rifled through the stack until he came to the pelt of a silver fox. “Ah. Mrs. Carter would like this to trim the white rabbit cape she has.” He fingered the ermine. “This would make a beautiful muff. I believe these will make Mrs. Carter the perfect birthday gift.” He looked from Antonia to Mr. Cobb and back. “Have you two finished negotiations?”
“We’ve barely begun,” Antonia said in a bitter
The man eyed her Indian tunic, and then ran a hand over the silver fox. His sour expression didn’t change. “Well, get the rest then, woman.”
Antonia bristled but held back a retort. She couldn’t risk losing this sale. She turned and stalked out, leaving the door open so she didn’t have to struggle with it again. Behind her, the man yelled about letting in the flies, but she pretended she hadn’t heard him.
Antonia hefted the rest of the furs down, all but the uncured pelt of the grizzly that had killed Jean-Claude. She left that rolled on the mule, and then staggered back inside, dropping the bundle on the counter.
Mr. Cobb pointedly ignored her, instead striding around the counter, down the aisle and to the door, where he shut it with a snap before stalking back. He barely glanced at the pile on the counter. “I’ll give you five dollars for the whole shebang, and that’s it.”
What?
Behind her, Antonia heard the door open, but she didn’t turn, focusing her attention on the shopkeeper. “Non!” Fear and anger made the word come out as sharp as a knife. “These here be worth far more than five dollars.”
“Not to me they aren’t. Take the money and get out.”
Antonia’s thoughts raced. She couldn’t accept that low offer. Yet, she also couldn’t walk out of here without clothing for her and the boys, and with no money. Helplessness combined with anger, and tears welled up in her eyes. Oh no, you don’t be doin’ that, she scolded herself. You be not weepin’ for Jean-Claude, and you cain’t let this miscreant be a makin’ you cry. With all her strength, she held on to her emotions.
The sound of firm footsteps came closer, but Antonia ignored them, wanting to get control over herself before she exposed any weakness to strangers.
Mr. Cobb’s expression changed from contemptuous to obsequious. “Mr. Carter, welcome.”
He sounds like he’d like to be wipin’ this Mr. Carter’s boots.
“Good day, Mr. Cobb,” said a pleasant male voice.
Antonia turned to see a man in a blue suit and hat, far fancier than any she’d seen in years.
“No Mrs. Carter today?” Mr. Cobb asked.
“She stopped by the Mueller’s place to pick up some of those big pretzels for the children.” The man walked up the aisle. He smiled at Antonia and touched a finger to his hat.
She nodded, too upset to return his smile.
The man had a narrow face, thinning sandy hair, and kind blue eyes. His gaze lingered on her face. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m John Carter, and I have a ranch out that-away.” He waved his arm opposite from the direction she’d traveled to reach the town.
“I be Mrs. Valleau.”
“Valleau sounds French.” The comment sounded curious, not condemning.
“Yes, sir. My husband be. . . was— ”Her voice wobbled, and Antonia took a breath to strengthen it. “ French-Canadian.” She touched the edge of a fur. “A trapper.”
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Valleau. My wife, Pamela, will be along shortly, and I’m sure she’ll be happy to meet you.”
Although she detected nothing in Mr. Carter’s expression to indicate his awareness of her strange dress, Antonia was sure Mrs. Carter wouldn’t be so tolerant.
“What have we here?” Mr. Carter leaned over to examine the furs spread on the counter. “Your husband was a fine hunter, and he did an excellent job of tanning these.”
A lump rose in Antonia’s throat.
Mr. Carter ran a hand over the grizzly fur. “This one has more silver than the one I have at home.” He rifled through the stack until he came to the pelt of a silver fox. “Ah. Mrs. Carter would like this to trim the white rabbit cape she has.” He fingered the ermine. “This would make a beautiful muff. I believe these will make Mrs. Carter the perfect birthday gift.” He looked from Antonia to Mr. Cobb and back. “Have you two finished negotiations?”
“We’ve barely begun,” Antonia said in a bitter
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