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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Hi'll pay ye double here what you'll kin git retail there, Jeem, and take it h'all h'off your hand. This h'emigrant, she'll beat the fur." "I'll give ye half," said Bridger. "Thar's people here needs supplies that ain't halfway acrost. But what's the news, Bordeaux? Air the Crows down?" "H'on the Sweetwater, h'awaitin' for the peelgrim. Hi'll heard of your beeg fight on the Platte.
"For Oregon? Mon Dieu! But Jeem" he spread out his hands "Jeem he's dead, we'll think. We do not known. Now we know the gold news. Maybe-so we know why Jeem he's gone!" "Gone? When?" "Las' H'august-Settemb. H'all of an' at once he'll took the trail h'after the h'emigrant train las' year. He'll caught him h'on Fort Hall; we'll heard.
They knew when Jeem had the long talk with the sick white squaw, who was young, but probably needed bitter bark of the cottonwood to cure her fever. Painted Utes and Shoshones stood about, no more silent than the few local mountaineers, bearded, beaded and fringed, who still after some mysterious fashion clung to the old life at the post.
She smiled into his face, and the throb of Carvel's heart was like a drum. "The gun is loaded," she said softly. "I will shoot." "Two days ago," said Carvel. "And from Lac Bain it is " "He will be here tomorrow," Nepeese answered him. "Tomorrow, as the sun goes down, he will enter the clearing. I know. My blood has been singing it all day. Tomorrow tomorrow for he will travel fast, Ookimow Jeem.
At length he arose, and animated by a sudden thought sought out his tepee once more. Dang Yore Eyes greeted him with shy smiles of pride. "Heap shoot, Jeem!" said she. "No kill-um. Why?" She was decked now in her finest, ready to use all her blandishments on her lord and master. Her cheeks were painted red, her wrists were heavy with copper.
But then he go h'on with those h'emigrant beyon' Hall, beyon' the fork for Californ'. He'll not come back. No one know what has become of Jeem. He'll been dead, maybe-so." "Yes? Maybe-so not! That old rat knows his way through the mountains, and he'll take his own time. You think he did not go on to California?" "We'll know he'll didn't." Carson stood and thought for a time.
And M'sieu Jeem" she looked up at him, a triumphant glow in her eyes as she added, almost in a whisper "You will not go to Lac Bain. "A messenger?" "Yes, Ookimow Jeem a messenger. Two days ago. I sent word that I had not died, but was here waiting for him and that I would be Iskwao now, his wife. Oo-oo, he will come, Ookimow Jeem he will come fast. And you shall not kill him. Non!"
Yes, he will come fast." Carvel had bent his head. The soft tresses gripped in his fingers were crushed to his lips. The Willow, looking again into the fire, did not see. But she FELT and her soul was beating like the wings of a bird. "Ookimow Jeem," she whispered a breath, a flutter of the lips so soft that Carvel heard no sound.
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