“So, this’s what we’re gonna have t’do. Same turns, but mebbe in a different order, an’ this time, the Injuns gotta be heroes.” He stopped pacing and crossed his arms over his chest, setting his weight back on his heels. “Ain’t like that’s completely outa the question. Pawnee like Fox been Scouts wit’ the Cavalry forever, seems like. So, I figgered I’d set my ideers up, an’ y’all tell me iffin it ain’t gonna work, an’ how we kin make it work.” He nodded sagely. “An’ I thought a good place ter start would be with the attack on th’ settlers.”

Giselle kept her eyes on her food, and as the attention of the rest of the troupe left her, and the heat in her face began to fade, but the formerly savory stew tasted of chagrin now. “They could do with learning manners,” Leading Fox said quietly in Pawnee. “But they mean no harm.”

She shrugged a little, and thought about some of the comments she’d overheard her countrymen making about the “barbaric frontiersmen.”

“They were not laughing at me,” she admitted. “They were laughing at what the writer said.”

“Which is absurd,” Leading Fox pointed out.

“. . . well . . . yes,” she admitted. She ate a few more bites, then listened to what the Captain was saying with more than half an ear.

And she had to admit that he had given all of this a great deal of thought. Then again, he does know these people very well.

They certainly were a contentious lot, however. Every single one of them seemed to have an opinion, every single one of them wanted to voice that opinion, and every single one of them thought his opinion, however unconsidered, was worthy of being heard. She got tired of it all long before it was over, but not before Leading Fox had silently gotten up and left. When it became clear that far too many of the troupe found arguing to be entertaining, she gave up as well. If some of her fellow players wanted to waste time when they could be sleeping in favor of listening to their own voices, well . . . that was one Americanism she was not inclined to emulate!

7

SILBERBRUCKE was a handsome town, a little bigger than Schopfheim. The narrow river that gave it its name neatly bisected the place, with three handsome stone bridges crossing it. They camped beside the river and set up the show in the river meadow on the opposite side of town from where they had entered. Kellermann had ridden ahead and plastered the place with handbills, and by the time the cavalcade had reached it, there were people lined up on both sides of the road to see them enter.