"No. Listen." She pronounced the name carefully. "'William. Will-yam.'"

This time he got it almost right. "William. William. "I'se William now. No more Weeyum." His smile, if possible, grew even wider. "I'se William and I'm a'gonna be king."

Hattie sat on a log next to Buffalo, who was watching with bright interest, even though he slumped tiredly against the cabin wall. "King? How will you be king?"

"I hearin' me a story," he said, "'bout how there be a land a long way off where a man can have his own land and not b'long to nobody." He looked off into the west, as if seeing something far beyond the horizon. "I hearin' that story time and time again. So one day I made up my mind to go and find it, that land where's I can be king. So I goed." He shrugged. "I just up and goed." He looked back at her. "Took me a long time. But I reckons I'se almost there."

A lump in her throat, Hattie nodded. "I reckon you are, William. And so am I."

"You wantin' to be a king, missus?"

"Well, I'd rather be queen, I think," she said, laughing a little, "but yes, I want to live where I have land of my own and belong to nobody." At least not the kind of belonging that made her bound to another's will, without a voice in her own fate.

"We go there together, us two," William said solemnly. "Come spring."

"Yes," Hattie said. "We'll go there together."

She knew a great sense of relief. No matter what happened with Emmet, she and her child would have William to help them find their way to the Willamette. And Silas, if he was still alive.

Come spring.

Emmet returned about sundown. "We lost one of the mules. Your big piebald," he told Buffalo.

"Injuns?"

"Cat, I think." He leaned his rifle against the wall beside the door. "I found some sign. Up on the hill."

"You're gonna have to bring 'em back," Buffalo said.

"I hate to. There's just no feed here." He and Weeyum had driven the livestock upriver as soon as the big cold spell a month ago had moderated, all but the milch cow. They'd been checking on the animals every few days. "But it looks like it's either guard 'em all the time or bring 'em back."

"I'd be proud to stay up there, Mist' Em," Weeyum said.

Emmet looked at him. For the first time he saw that the Negro wore Buff's old buckskins. He no longer looked like an escaped slave, uncertain and cringing. He stood straight as any man. There was even a knife at his hip.

"It's up to you. I'd not send you alone."

"I'se been alone a lot," Weeyum said. "And Dawg, he'll more'n like come wid me."

"We can't spare a gun," Emmet warned. "And if that cat comes back, you'll not have anything to use against it."

William shrugged. "Wouldn't know what to do wit' no gun nohow. 'Sides, I got me some tricks that maybe'll keep that cat away." He almost seemed to be looking forward to pitting his skills barehanded against a panther. Emmet hesitated.

"I be leavin' at first light."

Emmet knew when to stop arguing. He swung his chair around and pulled up to the table.

"There's still some miner's lettuce down by the creek," Hattie said, setting a plate before him. It's not much, but at least there's something besides venison."

Emmet ate the pitiful helping of greens in one bite, but he had to agree that it was a welcome taste after a month of nothing but venison. "The ice is gone. I'll get you some cat-tail root tomorrow."

"That would be nice," she agreed. "William, would you please bring the coffee pot? I think Mister Lachlan's cup is empty."

"William?" he said softly, as the black man was fetching the coffeepot.

"I thought it fitting," she said, equally low-voiced. "It gives him dignity, and a man needs dignity."

"That he does," Emmet said. How many women would understand just how important dignity was to a man, when that and his name were all he had?

Damn few.

That was Buffalo's last soak. The next day he didn't get out of his bunk, being content to lie there in the increasingly short periods after waking from one relatively pain free stupor and before needing the Indian medicine to send him into another. For the next while Emmet was always present, taking care of the old man's personal needs, holding him while Hattie poured the bitter infusion into his mouth.

One morning Hattie came with his medicine. "Not today," he said. "I got to have me a pow-wow with Em, here."

Emmet nodded to Hattie's questioning look. "I'll take care of him."

"You, gal, you go have yourself a soak. This is man talk." Buffalo's voice was tight, as if he were holding back the curses that sometimes seemed to relieve his pain.

Emmet pulled the shotgun off its pegs. You'll need this," he said to Hattie as he opened the door for her.

"I will?" She frowned. "I never have before."

"That was because me or William was always somewhere close. If I'm going to listen to Buff, you'll be alone out there."

She took the gun. "We haven't seen a soul in months."

"I saw cat sign yesterday. Probably the same one that took Buff's mule." He walked ahead of her along the path to the hot spring. The cat sign had been in the rocks high above the cabin, but he was taking no chances. Hattie was as tempting a morsel to a hungry panther as a horse. And a damn sight easier to catch.

He made sure she would keep the shotgun within reach before returning to the cabin. When he got there, he found Buffalo had dragged his pack onto the bunk.

It had been sitting on the floor within his reach ever since the day he gave William the knife.

The old man was holding a hard leather wallet, but his eyes were closed. They opened when Emmet pulled the stool to sit beside the bunk.

"You're a good man, Em. You take fine care of your woman."

"What kind of low down skunk would abandon a pregnant woman?" He had told Buffalo the truth about their marriage a while back, when the old trapper had apologized for intruding on the couple's privacy.

At the same time, he knew that he would miss Hattie when the time came to leave her. He had grown used to hearing her gentle voice, to smelling the trace of lilac that lingered about her, no matter how the stale odors of confinement, woodsmoke and cooking pervaded the air in the cabin.

But he had to go. He could not take responsibility for her one moment beyond that required by the promise he'd made her.

Buff untied the thong holding the wallet closed. "My Flower, she don't have much sense about money. I tried to make her understand about it, but you know her ma's folks don't buy and sell like we do."

"No, they don't." But they were catching on quickly. He'd been offered horses, women, and furs for the rifle he carried, a much finer gun than anything the would-be purchaser could lay his hands on.

"So I need me somebody to take care of my leetle gal. And Hattie, too, for that matter. She's as dear to me as my own flesh and blood." He paused to take several deep breaths.

Emmet saw how the creases in Buff's cheeks deepened. He reached for the small pot Hattie had left on the table. "Let me give you this. There's no need for you to suffer."

Buff pushed his hand aside, almost spilling the infusion. "Damn you, Em! Let me have the time I need. I'll sleep long enough purty soon."

"So talk fast. You're going to drink this if I have to tie you down and pour it in."

Buff's hand went up in a gesture of surrender. "Jest as soon's I tell you." He stopped, took several deep breaths. "Y'know I've spent a passel of years out in these mountains," he said, his voice growing stronger as if by force of will.

Emmet nodded. He wondered if there were a valley, a river, or a mountaintop Buffalo hadn't explored in his more than thirty years of wilderness living.

"I've wondered why you keep coming back here. These Bannock weren't your wife's people."

"Wal, they allus treated her like she was one o'them, so it don't really matter.

But that ain't why." Another pause. "I been watchin' more and more folks come across the mountains, knowin' that soon enough this whole land's gonna be crawling with farmers and settlers. Why I wouldn't be surprised if someday there warn't a town sittin' right here."

Emmet doubted it, but he wasn't going to argue.

"So I built me this cabin and summered here as often as not. Made me a deal with Goat Runner to keep an eye on things when I was gone. Cost me plenty, too."

"So that's where you took those horses you bought at rendezvous."

"Yeah, but that ain't what I want to tell you." He pulled a folded paper out of his wallet. "I wanted to give you this." Emmet reached for the paper, curious, but Buff held on to it.

"I thought about givin' this to Hattie, but she's got more on her plate than she needs without taking on the care of Flower. So I'm givin' it to you." He extended the paper, but didn't relinquish his hold on it. "Now I heard what you was sayin' about not wantin' obligations that'll hold you in one place, and I understand. Me, I never did like to feel penned in neither. But I ain't got anyone I can trust but you. And I'm worried about what's gonna happen to my leetle Flower when I'm gone."

"Buff, she's a woman grown and doing just fine for herself."

His voice became querulous. "I don't want her marryin' no Injun. She needs herself a white husband. One who can build her a house and buy her books. Did I ever tell you how much my gal likes her books?" His eyes closed and his head fell back onto the mounded furs that served as a pillow.

He still held the paper. Emmet worked it free of his grasp and unfolded it. In the dim light coming in the door, he could read nothing, but he did see that it was covered with lines and cryptic marks.

"That's her fortune," Buff said, almost in a whisper. "That's my leetle gal's fortune and I'm askin' you to take care of it for her. Her and Hattie, 'cause I want Hattie to share it with Flower."

"Fortune?"

"You know that basin up north of here?" Buff said, his voice growing stronger.

"The one I told you was trapped out?"

Emmet nodded. He'd not really believed Buff, having seen plenty of beaver sign, but since there were other streams to be trapped and other drainages to be explored, he hadn't cared when they went east and left the pretty little basin behind.

"Wal, it ain't. That's what I been keepin' watch over, ever since I found it.

Wanted to be here to lay claim to it, if'n people started movin' in." He laid a hand on Emmet's arm. "Give me that damned stuff now. I ain't got much more to say."

Relieved, Emmet dosed him, making sure he swallowed the entire contents of the pot.

After a few minutes, Buffalo began speaking again. "There's gold up thar, Em.

Gold layin' on the ground, gold washin' down the creeks. More gold than you or me ever thought of. And it's all theirs."

"Theirs?"

"Flower's and Hattie's. All you got to do is fetch it for 'em and get it to Fort Vancouver. Load all the oxen--it's a good thing Hattie's got them critters.

They'll let you carry enough for both gals. The White Eagle, he'll know what to do, how to get it to a bank or whatever's needed." He fell into a doze.

Emmet didn't move. Great God! What was he going to do? He couldn't take on the responsibility of Buff's daughter, nor could he do anything for Hattie beyond seeing her safely to the Willamette.

"You're allus wantin' to go to China. Take some of that gold and buy yourself a ship. Go tradin' and make 'em rich." Buff chuckled, a pale imitation of his hearty laugh of yesterday. "But take care of my gals, Em. Take care of my gals."

Again he fell into sleep, this time deeply.

I can't, Emmet thought.I can't do it. But he knew he would. He owed Buffalo Jones, and Emmet Lachlan always paid his debts.

Buffalo was sleeping and Emmet was outdoors somewhere when Hattie returned from her soak. That was fine with her, because she might have troubles of her own.

The rocks lining Buffalo's bathtub were big round river cobbles slick with the minerals that gave the hot water a slight sulfur smell. The bottom was a good three feet below ground level, no problem to her when she'd been slim and agile.

But now she was big and clumsy. Three feet was a major obstacle.

She had fallen, trying to climb out, fallen on her belly. It hadn't hurt, not then. But now, every so often, she could feel it harden, a painful contraction that made her back ache.

It was too soon! As near as she could figure, she still had the better part of a month before her child would be ready to be born. Perhaps if she were to lie down....

Climbing into her upper bunk was considerably easier than getting out of the bathtub. When Buffalo needed the bottom bunk, Emmet had fashioned her a ladder of sorts by binding fat peeled branches to one of the bedposts. Quietly she lay down and snuggled into the quilts. Of all the things saved from her wagon, she was most grateful that her trunk of bedding had been. Furs were all right for coats and rugs, but she didn't think she could ever get used to sleeping on some animal's hair!

Buffalo's stertorous breathing prevented her from sleeping, so Hattie did her best to lie quietly. She'd been lying there for close to an hour when Emmet returned.

Seeing her in bed, he came quickly to her. "Are you all right?"

"I think so." In a quiet voice she told him what had happened. "It's been a while since the last one. Maybe I've stopped."

He cursed under his breath, but Hattie recognized the cadence of his words. For a moment, anger overcame her fear. She needed to be held, to be told that nothing would come of this.

"Do you think Silas and Buffalo's daughter will ever get here?" She was beyond being frightened at the thought of giving birth with no one to help her but Emmet and William. She was terrified.

"I should have gone to the fort to see if any word's come from Silas," he said, squeezing her shoulder. "Try not to worry yourself, and I'll go as soon as I can."

"Don't leave me!" She clutched at his hand. Suddenly she couldn't bear the thought of his being away, even over night.

"Hattie, I must," he said. "Even if I thought it was safe to send William, I couldn't do it. He's too scared of being caught."