Noble's Way by Dusty Richards

decision. The Indian was going to learn the store business.
    â€œMannah, how would you like to be a clerk?”
    Mannah looked at her with puzzlement. She shook her head as if to say that she did not comprehend what Fleta was saying.
    â€œDon’t worry about it. You and I are going to run this store.”
    Mannah managed a bemused nod.
    â€œFirst, we have to put all the material bolts over there,” Fleta explained, pointing to her right. “That means we’ll have to get a lot of stuff out of the way. You understand?” Mannah shrugged, but smiled her willingness to please Fleta.
    A few hours later, both women were holding their lower backs and wearing tired smiles.
    â€œStore business lot of work,” Mannah said, amused.
    Fleta agreed, but the woman was going to work out fine as a helper. She was a quick learner and in time would be a big asset.
    Both women turned when the door was flung open. Two very tall Wichita men entered, arms folded over their chests, eagle feathers brushing the top of the doorway as they passed through.
    Fleta watched as they surveyed the room, then looked at Mannah. Their words meant nothing to Fleta, but they obviously wanted something.
    Fortunately Mannah seemed to understand them. She nodded.
    â€œHow much pay for two cigars?” she asked Fleta.
    Fleta blinked at the thought of Indians wanting cigars. “I’ll have to look at the invoices.”
    The Wichitas spoke again with Mannah. Fleta’s fingers were clumsy as she ruffled through the invoices. Where was the cost of those blasted cigars? Finally she found the price. One box cost a dollar.
    â€œWhat will he give?” Fleta whispered to Mannah.
    Fleta watched carefully as Mannah spoke and used sign language to get her question across. Finally she turned to Fleta with a smile.
    â€œThey say—one pelt for two cigars.”
    â€œFine,” Fleta said quickly. Any fur was worth more than five cents.
    â€œGood,” Mannah said with a conspiratorial smile. “They will think they have out traded us by getting two for one.”
    Mannah made more signs, but the bargainer shook his head. After a few more moments of haggling, one of the men shouted to a woman who was stationed outside the open door. She came in, carrying a prime wolf hide that shone like silk. But Mannah did not accept it without examining every inch of the fur, then she turned and tried to open the cigar box.
    Fleta hurriedly found a knife on her dry sink and used it to scratch open the seal and pry back the fine wooden, hinged top of the box. A heavy aroma of rich tobacco filled her nostrils.
    Her very first sale. Who would have ever thought about trading cigars for furs. A smile crossed her face as the two men left, sniffing the length of the cigars. Obviously, Noble thought of such a trade. A feeling of warmth hugged Fleta as if he was there himself. She glanced around with satisfaction at her house piled ceiling high with smelly yard goods, crates of items, leaving only narrow paths to walk. Fleta felt confident. Oh, Noble McCurtain, I do love you.
    Miles south, River and Barge were helping Noble saw down several small trees with a crosscut saw. The new hat shading his eyes was becoming a familiar feature on his head.
    Satisfied they had enough wood for the younger oxen to pull, Noble chained the larger load to the mature oxen’s yoke. When he spoke to them the teams began to shoulder the load, Noble exchanged a confident smile with the Osages.
    â€œLet’s go home,” he said stepping into the gray’s stirrup.
    Barge shouldered the great saw and the blade made a warping sound that amused both Indians. Noble shouted at the steers to keep walking. The experience he had gained by driving his uncle’s steers and freighting was not wasted.
    Now he needed an Illinois plow to cut the prairie. A dozen furrows would make a fire break. Prairie fires could be a deadly force, scorching everything for miles. A