Page 8 of Heart of the Storm (Hearts Over Wyoming #1)

Eight

The late morning air at Pierre’s Hole was warm with only a slight breeze. The tips of the Teton Mountains were dusted in white, which the sun illuminated against the dark blue sky. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen.

Tessa rode alongside Ike at the head of the brigade. Her horse’s hooves kicked up dust as they entered the chaotic scene that sprawled before her. The camp was a maze of tents, makeshift wooden structures, and countless campfires. Several clusters of men were huddled in deep discussions. Many exchanged goods, and bits of conversation about the trapping season reached Tessa’s ear.

They were all catching up after months of isolation, eager for each other’s company and sharing the latest news in the mountains. The distinct aromas of campfires, horses, body odor, and animal pelts assaulted her nose as they passed by. Meat roasted over several fires. The atmosphere was raw and alive.

The noise and activity was almost overwhelming after being away from St. Louis for months. Yet, this was why she had come. Every mountain man converged on the rendezvous, and right now, all eyes were on her and the wagons that followed. Some looked on with disbelief, others whooped and hollered a greeting.

Most men, including the Indians that had joined the mountain men in this large camp, stopped their conversations, stared wide-eyed, and murmured in low tones. The wagons certainly drew attention.

Tessa suppressed a smile. A strong sense of victory filled her. She’d made it. Against the odds, against every naysayer, and against the untamed land itself, Tessa had brought her wagons into the wilderness; a feat no one else had ever dared to attempt. Her father had originally scoffed at the idea. If only he could be here to see it. Arriving at Pierre’s Hole was the culmination of a mission she’d set her mind on from the very beginning.

"What are ya all staring at?" Ike’s voice called out. His face lit up with a knowing grin as he shouted greetings to several old friends among the camp. His booming laugh echoed through the camp as men waved, calling out his name, coming up to his horse, and shaking his hand.

“Heard rumors about wagons,” one man called. “Never woulda believed it if I ain’t seen it with me own eyes.”

"Miss Tessa," Ike said with a sly smile, "I reckon they thought the wagons were just another tall tale. We made it. By God, we did it."

Tessa returned the smile. Reaching her destination filled her with pride. However, a small part of her felt out of place in this world of grizzled men in the middle of the wilderness. She was used to dealing with them in St. Louis, but out here, they were more feral than she’d known.

It wasn’t that she doubted her own place in this camp, but rather the atmosphere. Everything here was wild and unpredictable. And yet, this was where she belonged, wasn’t it? She had come this far, and when she returned home, Father would be proud.

Many of the Indians stared stoically as she and her brigade made their way to the outskirts of camp to settle in. A strange feeling twisted in her chest, a knot that only deepened at the sight of them. Lingering thoughts surfaced of her encounter with the Gros Ventre war chief, Storm.

The confrontation with him had haunted her for days. She’d sensed him before she’d seen him. How long had he been watching her by the creek before she’d become aware of his presence? The memory of his eyes lingered in her mind. They had been so full of unspoken emotion as they had pierced straight into her.

He had been no simple Indian. In fact, there was something about his features that she couldn’t define. She’d seen a fair share of Indians from various tribes up close and had even traded with a few that her brigade had encountered on their journey, so the sight of a partially nude man wearing only buckskin leggings and a loin cloth wasn’t shocking, but still, there was something different about him. There was a calm control about him and a magnetic presence that both terrified and intrigued her.

She’d felt an undeniable pull to the handsome warrior who’d appeared out of nowhere, and the nagging thoughts about her reaction to him had left her confused and unsure. Why hadn’t he attacked her brigade if he was truly the dangerous warrior the men claimed him to be? In the four days since the encounter, the men had all been extra vigilant, expecting an attack any moment. The five trappers who’d been attacked by Storm and his warriors had grumbled and gotten angry multiple times because she hadn’t ordered the men to track him down.

“We coulda had him,” Jim Ferguson had argued with anger flashing in his eyes. “If he was alone, we coulda taken him out, and everyone would be safer for it. Now we have to be extra careful. He knows about your brigade and the wagons, and how many men you have. He’ll be comin’ fer ya next, mark my words.”

She pushed thoughts of her clashes with Ferguson away, along with images of Storm, just as she had done the past few days. Her focus had to be on the task at hand – proving that she could succeed in this unforgiving wilderness. It wasn’t just about surviving out here. It was about proving that her father had been wrong to doubt her. He had taught her the skills she needed to stand up for herself, but he had never truly believed she was capable of fully taking the reins of the business. Most certainly he never expected her to come this far.

Ike turned toward her again, shouting a hearty greeting to an older trapper who was setting up camp nearby. “It’s been too long, my friend! Damn good to see you.” The man smiled, shaking Ike’s hand, then staring open-mouthed as the wagons rolled past his tent.

Arriving along the outskirts of the encampment, Tessa dismounted, working alongside her men to set up camp and unload the wagons. Ike shouted out orders when some of the men didn’t move fast enough. They were tired after the long, grueling weeks on the trail.

“As soon as we have camp set up, you can rest or enjoy the sights and offerings here at rendezvous,” Tessa chimed in. The men shot dark glares at Ike, and grateful smiles at her.

Tessa inspected some of the unloaded crates and helped with getting several tents erected. She ignored the weariness that reached all the way into her bones. She couldn’t afford to show weakness now. She had made it this far, and the sight of her wagons – a feat no other fur company had dared to attempt – had drawn every eye in the camp. The feel of the stares of the men from rival companies weighed her down. Some were filled with admiration, others with thinly veiled disdain.

Shrugging it off, she kept busy with her work, but thoughts once again wandered to the man the other trappers had described as a brutal war chief. Perhaps she’d only imagined the haunted look in his eyes when he’d stared her down. Maybe she was making things up about him now that five days had passed.

She shook the visions of Storm away. Her gaze swept the busy camp that stretched out before her. The five trappers who should owe their lives to her and Ike for taking them in, had already vanished among the throng of other trappers. They hadn’t stuck around to help or show any gratitude. Tessa shrugged it off. It didn’t matter. She opened a wooden box on the tailgate that was filled with skinning knives and sharp ax blades when a scraping sound behind her caught her attention.

She turned to see Victor Rattler, of all people, stepping into view with a smug grin plastered across his face. Her stomach clenched, and the tension that had been building suddenly felt like it had exploded in her chest. If he looked and smelled bad in St. Louis, his appearance was far worse now. Tessa’s nose wrinkled.

The sight of him dredged up old memories from the day in St. Louis when she’d been confronted by Rattler. Because of that encounter, she’d announced to her father that she was leading the brigade into the wilderness. Firing him had been one of the best decisions she’d made. He was trouble then, and he was trouble now. She could see it in his eyes. Seeing him here in the wilderness should come as no surprise. He’d found another company to hire him on after she’d dismissed him in St. Louis.

“Well, well,” Rattler drawled, crossing his arms as he eyed her with exaggerated surprise. “Look what we’ve got here. I’ll be damned. Didn’t think I’d see the day. Was told ya was in charge of the Missouri River Brigade. Where’s yore pa?”

He stepped closer, his voice dripping with feigned politeness, but Tessa could hear the sharp undertone in his words. She stepped away to avoid smelling the rank odor on his body, but it was no use. She’d have to travel to the other side of the mountain not to smell him. He was acting too cheerful, as though he found it amusing that she’d made it this far.

Tessa’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she narrowed her eyes. She didn’t have the energy for a verbal spat with him – not now, not with everything else going on. But she wouldn’t back down, not when he stood in front of her looking smug. She hadn’t brought the wagons this far to let him undermine her.

“I don’t believe I invited you to my camp, Rattler,” she said coolly, her tone firm but controlled. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of losing her temper.

Rattler chuckled, but there was a sharpness to the sound, and he took another step closer. “Oh, I’m just being friendly, Tessa. Still uppity, I see. Not exactly the sort to lead a brigade into the wilderness, are you?” He eyed her up and down, making it obvious that he was judging every inch of her.

Tessa gripped one side of the crate she’d opened, but she refused to react. His words were meant to provoke her and push her buttons, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of an outburst. She couldn’t afford to. Not now.

“I’m sure you have your own business to attend to, Rattler,” she replied, her voice unwavering. “By the look and smell of things, you have a bottle of whiskey waiting for you somewhere. I’m not interested in reliving old arguments.”

Rattler’s smile faltered for a moment, the subtle tension in his jaw tightening. “Well, that’s a shame,” he said, his voice dipping into a mocking sympathetic tone. “I was just curious how your father is doing. Been a long while since we saw each other in St. Louis. I can’t believe he’d let you come all this way on your own.”

Tessa’s body went rigid at the mention of her father. “I don’t know how my father is doing,” she said evenly, although her insides were a nervous mess. “But I’m sure he’d be proud of what my men and I have accomplished here.”

Rattler’s eyes gleamed, and a bitter chuckle escaped his lips. “Proud? Proud of his company about to go under?”

“You don’t get to speak for my father,” Tessa snapped, her temper rising, before he could say more.

Rattler’s smile fell away, replaced by a sneer. The tension in the air was palpable now. Zeke, Shaky, and some of the others had begun to gather behind her, sensing the rising animosity. She could feel Ike’s presence just a few steps away.

“Best leave this camp, Rattler,” Ike said, stepping forward.

“Guess I hit a nerve, didn’t I?” Rattler muttered, taking a step back, his eyes still burning with malice. “We’ll see how long you last out here.”

Rattler’s eyes flickered to the men, then back to her. There was a moment of silent calculation, but in the end, he turned on his heel and walked away, muttering something under his breath. Tessa stood her ground, but her chest tightened and the heat of anger rose to her cheeks.

“Thank you, Ike,” she said quietly, glancing at him.

Ike gave a short nod, his lips curling slightly in a knowing smile as he turned to resume his work. Tessa’s eyes lingered on Rattler’s retreating form, then swept through the camp. Rattler had unsettled her, and he knew it. She couldn’t afford to lose focus now. She had a lot of trading to do here at the rendezvous, and that vile man wasn’t going to stop her. Not after everything she’d sacrificed to get here.

Instead of focusing on Rattler, she allowed her mind to wander back to her interaction with Storm by the stream in the woods. The memory of him continued to stir something in her, like a current tugging at her and pulling her back into that brief, charged moment.

She was startled when Ike’s voice broke through her reverie. "Miss Tessa, I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine."

She turned toward Ike, who was leading a couple of men, one older, the others younger, all looking weathered and hardened from their time in the wilderness. The older man stepped forward, his eyes taking in the sight of the wagons with a mix of awe and curiosity.

"Never thought I’d see the day," he said with a grunt, shaking his head. "Wagons here in the wilderness. And led by a woman, no less. I’ll be." He let out a low whistle and extended his hand. "Josiah Butler," he added, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Tessa hesitated for a brief second, then reached out and shook his hand. If he was Ike’s friend, she could overlook his judgmental words.

"Any trouble on your way here?" Josiah asked Ike, still eyeing the wagons.

Ike shrugged. "None to speak of. We picked up a few men who got caught in a skirmish with a war party of Gros Ventre. Then Miss Tessa had a run-in with their leader, Storm. Have you heard of him? Seems like all the men are worried about his raiding."

"Yeah, we’ve heard of him." Josiah grumbled, the warmth fading slightly. "Met him, too. But that was before he turned into a war chief."

Tessa frowned, her gaze flickering between Ike and Josiah. "Is he as ferocious as everyone seems to claim?" she asked, her voice steady despite the curiosity gnawing at her. "He didn’t strike me as the bloodthirsty Indian everyone makes him out to be."

Josiah shifted uncomfortably, his brow furrowing. "He’s not," he muttered. “Least whiles, he wasn’t back then.”

At that, one of Josiah’s younger companions stepped forward. His face was a little smoother than the others, with a cocky grin and sharp eyes that were reminiscent of a fox. "Todd Baronette," he said, extending his hand. "I met Baa’koa – which roughly translates to Storm – at his village early this spring."

Tessa’s heart gave a strange jolt at the name. Baa’koa. That made him more of an Indian than using the English translation of his name.

"What was he like?" she asked, shaking Todd Baronette’s hand. The question was out of her mouth before she could make sense of it. But curiosity grew about the man she’d encountered. She stepped away from Josiah Butler and Ike, and with a nod of her chin, beckoned Todd to follow her.

Todd’s eyes narrowed with amusement, but he fell in step beside her, and they moved away from her camp.

"He kept to himself mostly while we were trading in his village,” Todd said. “But we struck up a conversation." He gave a small chuckle, noticing her growing tension. "You’ve seen him. What did you think of him?"

Tessa’s throat tightened. She faced the trapper and held Todd’s gaze. “Our encounter was brief. He surprised me, so there wasn’t much time for idle conversation. I was honestly surprised that he spoke English...and quite well."

Todd nodded. He lowered his voice as he spoke. "Baa’koa…Storm…speaks English because he’s a white man. Didn’t you notice that about him?"

Tessa froze and every muscle in her body tensed as a chill ran down her spine. Her lips parted in disbelief and her mind raced. “A white man?” she echoed. “No. I…I didn’t really notice,” she said slowly. "He had long dark hair, like any other Indian."

"If you’d paid attention," Todd continued, his voice filled with amusement, "you would have noticed his features were those of a white man, and his skin tone is lighter."

Tessa blinked. She was caught off guard. She hadn’t thought much about it before, but now that Todd had pointed it out, memories of their brief meeting began to resurface. There had been something about the Indian that she couldn’t place, in the way his eyes had held hers and the way he had moved. "I wasn’t exactly analyzing his skin tone," she replied, slightly annoyed, though now she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was more to him than she had seen.

She stared up at Todd. "How does a white man become a feared war chief of the Gros Ventre?"

Todd chuckled softly. He hesitated for a moment, then said, "I told him his secret was safe with me, but I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you.” He paused, then looked at her. “He was raised by them. They took him in when he was just a boy after he got lost in the wilderness along the Missouri. It’s a longer story than that, but that’s the gist of it. His real name is Adrian Storm."

The words hit Tessa like a slap in the face. Her vision blurred for a moment, and a cold wave washed over her. Adrian Storm. The name sounded like a ghost echoing from the past, distant yet too close. A heavy feeling dropped into the pit of her stomach, and her knees weakened beneath her.

"Adrian Storm?" Her voice barely rose above a whisper. The name…it felt so familiar, but why? Where had she heard it before?

Todd watched her closely, his expression growing more concerned. "Are you all right?" he asked softly, leaning toward her. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

The flash of a distant memory filled her mind. The image of a quiet and shy young boy, glaring at her and her mother and sister with both sadness and animosity as the wagon on which he sat with his father pulled away from the small cabin that had been first his, then her childhood home.

Adrian Storm.

Tessa’s breath caught in her throat. The name clicked into place with a sickening clarity. "I think I have seen a ghost," she whispered. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her mind reeled. "The last time I heard the name Adrian Storm, I‘d been told he was dead."