Steven reddened beneath his burn. “No, monsieur, my father is not yet
convinced of the possibilities of trade westward to Santa Fe----”
St. Vrain nodded energetically, not displeased, perhaps, at that. “Are
you driver, guide, trapper? _Non!_ You are not. I pay you no wages, but
all who are of the caravan must do what they can to make themselves
useful, _n’est-ce pas_?”
“Oh, I shall pay my own expenses, _mi coronel_,” protested Steven. The
hospitable but practical St. Vrain was at this moment called away to
supervise a wagon-load and Steven was led off to the store by Pierre to
pick out his outfit. They opened Steve’s luggage to take stock of what
he had. Three flannel shirts of the kind that the river men down on the
Mississippi wore, some heavy socks, that was all of a frontiersman’s
outfit that his bags yielded. He closed them quickly, a bit ashamed to
have the guide see the fine linen underthings, the starched shirts, an
extra suit of fustian, and one of silk, also a pair of smartly turned
city boots.
“I can leave these bags here,” he said, and was all for discarding them
grandly.
“But, no,” cautioned Pierre. “Take them with you. If you do not wish to
wear the clothes, you can sell them out there. The Mexicans will buy
everything.”
Steven emerged from the store transformed, wearing Mexican leather
breeches open from the knee down, plainsman’s boots, and a shirt shipped
from his father’s warehouse. It had taken the whole of his month’s
allowance to outfit himself--gun, ammunition, his rations of beans, salt
pork, coffee, and flour, which were added to the general commissary of
the colonel’s outfit. He deposited $200 in all with the storekeeper, and
his remaining $300 Steven tied tightly in a leather pouch and hung it
inside his shirt.
With his grips and new outfit he reported back to the colonel, was
assigned a seat in the wagon following the colonel’s own, second in the
caravan, and took his stand at one side while he watched the
preparations for departure, hoping to be called upon to do something,
ready to jump for such service.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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