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had no choice but to invite the fellow to share their camp. "Come on in,
then. I was just about to put on the coffee."
    "I've got provisions, glad to share." He dismounted and led his horse, a handsome pinto,
toward the shelter. "Mind if I put Boo-koo inside?"
    "We were planning to spread our beds there," Merlin said. He looked upwards. The sky
was still overcast, and the air was almost comfortable. "Let's move all the stock out and hobble
them. We might as well sleep warm."
    "Fair enough. I'll take first watch. There's bear and panther about."
    They put together a fair supper, pausing long enough to pour the strong coffee and relax
while sipping. Merlin's cup was half empty when Cal finished with the stock and came toward
the fire. He'd noticed her humming had ceased when the fellow rode in. She hunkered down a
ways from the fire and eyed him suspiciously.
    "I'm Murphy Creek," the stranger said. "Teamster, guide, jack of all trades. I work for
the freight line into Alder Gulch. One of our drivers is needed at home. I'll replace him."
    When Merlin introduced Cal, he gave the impression she was his little brother. Her
quick glance his way told him she appreciated it. "We're hoping to catch up with the freighters.
To my way of thinking, we'd be better off with them than being alone, 'specially if we run into
snow."
    Creek pulled out a half-smoked cigar and stuck it into his mouth. With a flaming twig
from the fire, he puffed it into life. "Good plan. If you're willing to lend a hand, we can feed
you."
    "Cal here isn't up to heavy work yet."
    "That's all right. He can help with the cooking. There's never a shortage of tasks."
    After supper Creek, who had made half a dozen freight hauls to the gold camps, told
them about Virginia City and Nevada City, the towns in Alder Gulch. "I've heard they were
rip-roarin' places in their heyday, but they're quiet now. Oh, folks are still pulling gold out of the
ground, but nothing like the fortunes of five or six years ago." He went on to describe the fancy
houses, the saloons, and the other dens of iniquity a man could enjoy.
    Merlin had already decided his quest should include a few of those, so he listened with
great interest.
    * * * *
    A day and a half later, they spied the freighters about a mile ahead. They were well into
the mountains now, following a canyon. There was a lot of up and down, and that made for slow
going. They caught up after a couple of hours, but he and Cal hung back and let Creek take care
of his errand first.
    "He's an Injun, ain't he?" It was the first time they'd had to hold private conversation
since Creek had joined them. "Ain't you afeared?"
    "Part, I'd guess." He slowed to let her ride up beside him. "No reason to be afraid.
Indians are folks, just like anybody."
    "They're murderin' savages."
    He reined up and turned to look straight at her, doing his best to keep a tight hold on his
temper. "You know that for a fact?"
    Her bottom lip went out. "Everybody knows it."
    "I don't. You ever meet an Indian before?"
    "If I did, I'd shoot him."
    He just sat there, looking at her.
    After a while she dropped her chin and stared at the ground. "I'd probably run," she
admitted. "Don't have a gun, anyhow."
    "Don't have much sense, either. If somebody tried to take your home away, wouldn't you
fight for it?"
    "Maybe."
    "Well, I would, and I reckon most everybody else would, too. My Aunt Flower's people,
they've been pushed off the land they lived on for hundreds of years, because white men found
gold on it. So far they haven't fought back, but sooner or later, they will. Does that make them
murdering savages?"
    Her eyes went real wide and she chewed on her bottom lip. "Your aunt's an Injun?"
    "Yep. Nez Perce." He kicked Bul in the flanks and left her to eat his dust.
    Tarnation. I've got to stop getting mad every time somebody badmouths the Indians.
Pa warned me to keep my mouth shut.
    He caught up with the wagons and rode alongside Creek until they turned off into a
place