There was that, too, Francis thought. How can I just keep going with the mountain man? Mr. Grimes has his own way of life. It’s a wild and exciting life, but is it the kind of life for me—for the rest of my life?

Francis shook his head in bewilderment. Then, slowly, he turned toward the wagons.

“Of course”—Mr. Grimes stopped him—“you’ve got to figure those people are maybe pretty dumb. They won’t make Oregon anyways—at least not this winter. Here it is early fall, and they’re only this far. Way I figure it, they’ll be spending winter about halfway there—somewhere in the west part of Dakota Country, where it gets cold.”

Francis looked at him. Was the mountain man telling him to stay? Or was he just ridiculing the “farmers” for being dumb?

“Now me,” Mr. Grimes continued, his face still blank, “I figure on spending my winter not far from here—where the snow won’t get too much higher’n a horse and I don’t have to worry about much except a few stray Crows. If I get lucky and fill out on beaver fast, I just might come down here and spend the winter with Spot.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I’d be better off staying with you through the winter than I would be if I joined that particular wagon train?”

“No-ah, Mr. Tucket, that isn’t quite right. I’m not trying to tell you anything. It’s your mind, you make it up …”

Francis nodded.

“… but I’d hate to think I plucked you from Braid just so’s you could turn out dumb.”

Francis felt warm all over—warmer than the morning sun could have made him feel. He hefted his rifle, turned the little mare once more and almost—but not quite—laughed in relief. The truth was he didn’t want to leave and it had been handled for him.

Mr. Grimes clucked at the sorrel and moved ahead. He didn’t look back—not at the wagons or at Francis. He rode straight, his derby and feather aimed dead ahead.

Francis caught up. He didn’t look back at the train either. It might as well not have been there. He felt that he should thank the mountain man, but what could he say? A straight “thank you” would probably only make him snort.

“The way I figured it, Mr. Grimes,” he said finally, his eyes straight ahead, “if a guy’s gotta spend a winter, he might as well spend it the best way he can …”

The mountain man smiled.

——— Chapter Fourteen ———

TWO DAYS AWAY from Spot Johnnie’s, Mr. Grimes stopped on the edge of a deep canyon.

“From here on, Mr. Tucket, we’ll see no more people—Indians or otherwise.”