Seed of Evil by David Thompson Page B

talk,” Chases Rabbits proudly revealed. They often signed affection to each other.
    “Good. Then we’ll communicate through her. You can go back to your village and leave the rest to us.”
    Chases Rabbits was surprised that they wanted him to go so soon. “I stay. Make sure all go well.”
    “There’s no need,” Geist said, and clapped him on the back. “I’ve imposed on your goodwill enough as it is.” He crooked a finger at Petrie. “My pard here will take you inside and let you pick whatever you would like for bringing the women. Within reason, of course.”
    “Of course,” Chases Rabbits echoed as he had heard whites do, although he was not quite sure what he was agreeing too. Reluctantly, he followed Petrie into the mercantile while Geist and Dryfus escorted the women toward the new structure.
    “What is it you’d like?” Petrie asked. “A knife? Ammunition? What?”
    “I have new knife,” Chases Rabbits said, and patted it. “I not sure.”
    “Then look around. There’s no rush. I’ll be having a drink. Give a holler if you need me.”
    “I give.” Chases Rabbits moved down an aisle, absently fingering clothes and blankets and tools. He was thinking of Raven On The Ground. He would rather be with her.
    Someone nudged him, and Chases Rabbits turned. “Toad,” he said, and the stout man put a finger to his lips.
    “Not so loud or they’ll hear you and wonder what I’m up to.”
    “Sorry?”
    Toad glanced around as if he was afraid. In a whisper he said, “If I give you something, will you get it to Nate King?”
    “Give me what?” Chases Rabbits asked.
    Toad reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded sheet. “This.”
    “It called paper.” Chases Rabbits had seen paper before, at the King cabin.
    “It’s a message for him and him alone. No one else is to read it. Can you do that?”
    “I can do, yes.”
    Toad gripped Chases Rabbits’s wrist so hard it hurt. “You don’t realize how important this is. Important for your people and important for you.”
    “I can do,” Chases Rabbits repeated, disturbed at how upset the man was.
    “Take it,” Toad said, and started to put the paper in Chases Rabbits’ hand.
    “What’s going on here?”
    Toad gave a start.
    Chases Rabbits saw him quickly lower the paper behind his leg, adopt a broad smile, and turn. He did the same, bewildered as to what was going on.
    “I asked you a question,” Petrie said to Toad. “What are you two up to?”
    “Nothing much,” Toad responded.
    Petrie came down the aisle and looked from one of them to the other. “Suppose you tell me, Crow.”
    “My name Chases Rabbits.”
    “I know what the hell it is. What I don’t know is what he was whispering to you about.”
    Toad said, “He asked if I had any spyglasses to sell and I told him I didn’t.”
    “Is that true?” Petrie asked.
    Chases Rabbits tried to recall if he knew what a spyglass was. Then he remembered the fabulous brass tube Nate King owned that could bring far objects up close. “I want spyglass many winters.” Which was true; he’d desired one ever since Nate let him look through his.
    Petrie sniffed and wheeled, making for the entrance.
    “That was close,” Toad said. “If they catch me with this, my goose is cooked.”
    Chases Rabbits’s mother had plucked and roasted geese a few times. Grouse, too. And quail. Even an owl once. “Better cooked than raw.”
    Toad didn’t seem to hear him. He glanced down at the folded paper. “Perhaps I should rethink this. Breathing is better than not breathing.”
    “Breathing good,” Chases Rabbits agreed.
    “I have a better idea. Bring Nate King here. Will you do that for me? I’ll give you a pistol for your very own if you do.”
    Chases Rabbits tingled with excitement. Few Crow warriors owned rifles; fewer still owned a rifle and a pistol. “Me happy bring him.”
    “If he wants to know what it’s about,” Toad said, “tell him there are foxes in the chicken