The Fur Trader Read Online Free Page A

Richard looked to him with his green eyes, a rare color in these parts of the world, and an expression that said his stomach was killing him.
    “We’re almost to the next town. We can resupply there,” William said confidently. In his mind, he was cursing himself. He most definitely should have prepared better for this trip.
    Then again, nothing had gone according to plan.
    Kidnapping was never a simple game to play.
    Richard and William prodded their horses along the snowy, uphill road winding through the trees. They rode in a line, keeping their horses in the narrow tract of dirt where the snow had been worn away by traffic. William kept a constant vigil as they rode. He was almost certain no one in the previous towns had recognized them, but there was always a chance that they were being followed. If he was caught…
    William pushed the thought from his mind. Being aware of his surroundings was good, but worrying needlessly about events he couldn’t control did little more than give him heartburn.
    They rode for nearly three hours before they came to a small wooden sign staked to the side of the road. Black painted letters spelled out “Cherry Brook” above a founding date that was now illegible. William sighed with relief as he saw the open gates nestled securely within a wooden palisade. His feelings soon turned to dissatisfaction, however, when they rode through the gate and he realized that the “palisade” was nothing more than a long fence that stretched out from either side of the gate and then ended in trees just beyond the buildings. Cherry Brook had no fence or wall encompassing the town securely. William grunted and kicked his horse into a trot to ride up alongside Richard.
    “Remember, keep your mouth shut and let me do all the talking, understand?”
    Richard nodded. “Can we at least buy some food first?”
    William shook his head. “Patience is a virtue,” William said sternly. “Over here.” William led the two of them out on a town road that led out to the east of Cherry Brook. They crossed over a large bridge spanning a creek, and continued on toward a large mill at the eastern edge of town.
    A great waterwheel spun smoothly, water spilling and splashing as the wheel churned.
    William and Richard approached the mill and William dismounted, leaving his horse to nibble at the few bits of grass it could find under the snow. He walked around toward a large cart of logs stationed at the base of a long ramp that led up to the sawing track.
    A tall man with black hair and a tidy mustache came around the cart just as William did and the two nearly bumped into each other. William’s hand went down toward his belt, but the tall, mustachioed man smiled and put his hands up in the air.
    “Sorry, friend, didn’t see you there. What can I do for you?”
    William’s muscles relaxed and he took in a calming breath.
    “Do you run the mill?”
    The man shook his head. “No, I’m Finley, I run the carts. If you want the boss, Mr. Figg is up near the saw. I just brought this load in and he is preparing the saw.”
    William nodded and walked up the well-worn ramp. He saw a large, wide-shouldered man with a small can of oil near an assembly of chains and cogs. The man caught sight of William and set the can down, pulling a pair of leather gloves off his hands as he came out to greet William.
    “What can I do for you, stranger?” the man asked.
    “You run the mill?” William asked.
    The large man nodded. “That I do. You need logs?”
    William shook his head. “No,” he said.
    “Ah, boards then?”
    “No,” William replied.
    The large mill owner scrunched up his brow, stopped walking toward William, and folded his arms across his chest. He eyed William carefully and then spit off to the side.
    “If you are one of those fancy city folk looking to come up and buy the mill, the answer is no.”
    William smiled and shook his head. “Wouldn’t dream of something like that,” he said honestly. “No,