Bitterroot Valley I waited for you

She was astounded by her own daring. Made giddy by it, though only a bright smile betrayed this. She snagged the pelt and pulled it away from him, laying it pink-side-up in the grass. Her own fox carcass lay forgotten for the moment — she was eager to please, and faintly disgusted with herself for that fact.

"Better unfinished than damaged," she assured him, clawing at a few far deposits to check their thickness. It needed quite a bit of cleaning, but she didn't mind that. Not the work, anyway.

"I'll show you," she told him, lifting her eyes back to his handsome face. Her breath caught, but her own gaze was faintly calculating. The smile that followed carried a hint of running behind her usual teasing nature. "But you will bring all your pelts to me from now on. The ones you don't finish yourself, only I will cure for you."

She lifted her chin, daring him to deny her this. It was not a power play, exactly. She did not say it for the sole purpose of commanding him. It was just that she could not stoop to requesting these rights — and if they were courting, truly courting, then she would not suffer another woman attempting to dress him.