Free Sitka by Louis L’Amour Page A

furs, Baron Zinnovy! Wheat is just a sideline with me. My real business is in fur. In fact, Captain Hutching and myself are among the largest buyers of fur on the coast.” “No doubt,” Zinnovy said, his voice arrogant, “you have bought many Russian skins. For the future, if I were you, I would put no trust in that source.” “Russian skins?” Jean furrowed his brow with exaggerated perplexity. “You have the advantage of me, Baron. I have taken the skins of fox, marten and mink, but so far I’ve never had to skin a Russian.”
    The girl laughed outright and Count Rotcheff smiled. “Let’s hope you never do,” he said agreeably. “There are furs enough for us all without our skinning each other. Don’t you agree, Baron?”
    “I think,” Baron Zinnovy replied distinctly, “this merchant is insolent.” Count Rotcheff started to interrupt, obviously uncomfortable and hoping to turn the conversation. Jean spoke quickly.
    “You use the term ‘merchant,’” Jean said, “as if you considered it an insult. I think of it only as a compliment, for it was the merchant adventurers of the world who opened the roads and discovered continents and developed the riches of the earth while, if Count Rotcheff will forgive me, the titled lords were mainly concerned with waging petty wars or robbing priests and women.” Zinnovy’s face was pale. Never had he been spoken to in this manner, and although he despised Count Rotcheff for his diplomacy and political views, to be openly insulted before him was insufferable.

“If we were not guests—“
    “But we are!” Rotcheff interrupted sharply. “We are guests, Baron Zinnovy, and this visit is of great importance to our colony at Sitka. We can have no quarrels here.”
    Zinnovy bowed slightly, his eyes coldly furious. “I regret my haste, Count Rotcheff. As for Mr. LaBarge, I hope he makes no further attempt to open his merchant roads to Russian America.”
    Jean feigned surprise. “But Baron, you forget! Count Rotcheff has just been discussing a purchase of wheat. If he buys my wheat I’ll have to deliver it.” “It will be a delivery I shall watch with interest.” His cold gray-white eyes met Jean’s. “Who knows but that we shall meet when neither is a guest of the other?”
    “I’ll look forward to it.” Jean turned, “Countess ...” “The name,” Rotcheff interposed, “is Princess. My wife is the Princess Helena de Gagarin, niece of His Majesty, the Czar of Russia.” “Oh ... of the Czar?”
    “And the niece of the Grand Duke Constantin also—you may have heard of him.” “A lot of us Americans admire the Grand Duke for his liberal views ...   naturally, they would be popular here.”
    “If you approve of the Grand Duke,” Zinnovy suggested, “then you must approve the policies of Muraviev?”
    “If he were an American I might approve. As he is a Russian, I do not.” “You approve his territorial claims against China? As you might approve of your own government if they laid claim to Russian America?” Jean shrugged. “I don’t know anything about statecraft, Baron, but I have heard of no claims made by the United States on Alaska. As to purchase, that is another thing. We might be interested in that question.” Count Rotcheff studied Jean more carefully. This young American was no fool ...   or did he speak with information of some sort? There had been talk in St.   Petersburg of a bargain with the United States. It was most interesting that it should be mentioned here.
    Rotcheff had been listening to the discussion with irritation. The Russian colony at Sitka was dependent on foodstuffs from California and Hawaii for its very existence. Russian ships were received without undue warmth and any dispute might bring an end to trading; the success of his own mission depended on friendship with the business interests of San Francisco. He seized the moment to change the subject. “My wife is very interested in your country, Mr. LaBarge,