Rainy Day Dreams: 2 by Virginia Smith, Lori Copeland Page A

tones of anger and fear.
    Noah pointed toward the man nearest the door. “Go get David. He needs to hear this.”
    The messenger left at a run.
    Jason shot a glance behind him, where Evie stood with a hand on Kathryn’s shoulder looking his way. “Look here, Hughes.” He spoke quietly. “I thought the natives in these parts were peaceable.”
    “They are.” Captain Baker, who stood nearby with a coffee mug in his hand, inserted himself into the conversation. “I had a word with Captain Sterrett before he left, and he assures me there is no threat of conflict with the natives. Frankly, I’m surprised at your reaction. You people have lived practically side by side with them for years.”
    Noah didn’t answer at first, his jaw working as he stared at the man. Then he nodded slowly. “That’s true enough. The Duwamish tribesmen are our friends and have been since we settled here. But Chief Seattle moved the bulk of his people to a reservation some time ago. A few stayed, but most left with him. These are new tribes coming in from the north, and they aren’t as tolerant of white settlers who’ve moved in and taken possession of what have traditionally been tribal lands.”
    “Unhappy with the arrangements, perhaps, but not violent.” The captain’s posture straightened and he rocked back on his heels. “No doubt they’ll come to see reason after a while. In the meantime, we mustn’t be alarmists.”
    Lawson rounded on the man. “You sayin’ the report about the fight over at Holmes Harbor is wrong? ’Cause I’ll bet there’s a widow lady in Alki who might have something to say about them folks not being violent.”
    One of the millworkers spoke up. “We all know there’s a few Indians who’d just as soon kill us as look at us, but most of them are as friendly as you or me.”
    The man standing next to him shook his head. “Maybe so, but it only takes a handful to start shooting. Before you know it we’ve got a war on our hands.”
    A man in dingy red-striped suspenders rounded on him. “Why’d you have to mention war? That kind of talk is what’s causing folks around here to panic.”
    The other’s fists clenched, and Jason noted that his was not the only reddened face in the circle. Obviously emotions on this topic ran high, as well they should. Given the reports in years past of the savage slaughter of westward-bound pioneers on wagon trails through the plains, people were prone to panic at the mere hint of conflict between red men and white.
    A pair of men entered the restaurant followed closely by Noah’s messenger, whose breath came hard.
    Noah’s tension visibly relaxed. “David, glad you could come so quickly. There’s been another attack.” He jerked a nod toward Lawson, who launched into his tale for the second time.
    Jason studied the newcomer. David Denny, one of the founders of Seattle. Along with his older brother and a handful of others, this man had established the timber trade that attracted the attention of Henry Yesler, who then built the first steam mill in this part of the country. Since that time, Seattle had thrived and grown beyond anyone’s expectations. David was younger than Jason expected, probably not more than twenty-five or six, which would make him around ten years younger than Jason. But intelligence gleamed in the dark eyes that focused intently on Lawson.
    When the man finished, David and Noah exchanged a loaded glance. Seeing it, Jason felt the stirrings of unease deep in his gut. He may not know them well, but his years managing crews of millworkers back East had taught him a thing or two about judgingmen’s character. These two were no alarmists, no matter what the captain said. If they shared a concern about hostilities between white men and Indians, there was a valid reason for caution.
    The heavy silence that descended on the men as they waited for David’s reply spoke of their high opinion of him. When he did speak, he looked around the group, his