The Story Of Two Jakes 4d5m2l

The Story of Two Jakes

Merlin C. Williams

Copyright © 2011 by Merlin C. Williams.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011911008

ISBN: Hardcover 978-1-4628-9233-4

Softcover 978-1-4628-9232-7

Ebook 978-1-4628-9234-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

Synopsis

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue

Synopsis

What would Old Jake be able to do in the Rocky Mountains during the middle 1800s, now that growth and change was taking place throughout the area? Both trappers and Indian were being forced to change as the immigration was occurring. In the spring of 1842, Old Jake was ready to come down off the mountains after a long season of continued beaver trapping. First, he would go south to do some trading along Sweetwater trail. The season hadn’t been that good, and he knew that the price of beaver skins was not that good any more, but his 12 years of experience in these mountains had permitted him to catch enough beaver to let him trade for the supplies he needed. His mule Big Jake, the two pack mules and small outfit of a beaver trapper were all he needed to get along. Or so he thought.

What Old Jake hadn’t counted on was the fact that the trail would be a lot longer than he planned. Between dodging hostile Indians, renegade white traders and suffering the starvin’times, his trail would take him through some of the most spectacular parts of the Rocky Mountains to the buffalo hunting plains in Colorado. In the process, he would pick up a couple of other travelers who would help him rebuild the home, the life and the abiding love he had lost so many years before. Even so, he had vowed that he would never leave these mountains that he loved so well, and he didn’t despite the fact that there were “starvin’” and “shinin’” times. In the long term, he developed a family that would live in this part of the world for a longtime.

Chapter 1

Old Jake cautiously crossed the timbered ridge. He was moving in a crouch with his rifle held ready and his eyes searching the slope in front of him. Big Jake, his riding mule, and the two jennys used for packing, followed closely behind him. He dropped quickly into the heavier timber below the ridge line and began angling across the slope toward the edge of a large meadow with a stream running through its lower part.

Old Jake wasn’t sure why he felt the need for caution, but he felt it, and he had a distinct, uneasy feeling that ended with a small knot in the pit of his stomach. Funny how that knot came more easily in the last year. He ignored the feeling and noticed that his mules had sensed his uneasiness. They now moved through the timber with the care of wary bull elk.

Maybe Old Jake’s uneasiness came from the fact that he thought he had seen a thin line of smoke rising against the morning sky as he saddled and loaded the mules that spring morning. When he had looked a second time, he could see no trace of it, and had dismissed the smoke from his mind. The thought came back later in the day when he noted that the woods seemed unnaturally quiet for the warm spring day the mountains of the Wind River were enjoying. The westerly facing slope Old Jake moved down still held patches of old, dirty snow, but spring was definitely in the air in this year of 1842.

Now as the afternoon sun began its rapid descent, Old Jake slowed his seemingly shambling gait as he approached the edge of the trees. He had circled around a small stand of aspen that stood naked without its summer foliage. He preferred the improved cover provided by the pines that grew increasingly thicker as he descended. Big Jake did not approve of the longer route to the water and dried

grass of the meadow, but patiently accepted the whims of the mere mortal man with a trust that came from long, shared trails. The two jennys, Jeannette and Janet, plodded behind Big Jake with the same acceptance and trust in the big mule that was shared between the mule and the man. Old Jake stopped within the screen of sheltering trees for long minutes, and carefully studied the meadow spread below him. The opening that met his eye was at least two miles long and one half mile wide. Thick dried grass covered the expanse, and the stream looped its way across it. Old Jake knew that the meadow extended north beyond his view for another mile and then bent westerly with the stream for four more miles. Six more miles to his destination. An easy trip down the broad valley if everything went according to plan.

Nothing in sight. Except—his heart jumped and his breathing ceased. Those black dots at the far end of the meadow nearly a mile away were mounted horsemen. Four of them, and four horsemen in a group without pack animals meant a hunting of a different type. They could be scouting for a larger party. They could be trappers, but in a whole winter of trapping, he had not seen or heard of any other white men in the area. Besides, they didn’t ride like white men, and they should have pack animals if they were trappers on the move at this time of year. They could only be Indians, and definitely not friendly to a single, white trapper with guns, mules and furs. They appeared to have crossed the stream and were moving up the meadow toward Old Jake’s small party. Damn. If they kept coming they would almost certainly discover him. Apparently they were traveling up the same route Old Jake had taken down the mountains for these last few miles. After all, he had been following a game trail. To try to move away now would invite disclosure, since any movement among the stationary trees would increase the chances of detection. The leisurely advance of the Indians was deceptive. Their movements revealed a definite hunting pattern. They were searching for someone or something, and they seemed definitely dressed for fighting rather than hunting.

Old Jake knew he had to prepare himself in some way in case his luck turned sour and the Indians kept corning. Speaking softly to the mules, and motioning them along he moved slowly backward into deeper cover and then moved to the right where he had seen a deadfall that would provide minimal protection. He

tethered the mules individually to small branches on a cluster of pine that served to shelter their presence. He knew that if anything happened to him, the mules would be able to tear themselves free and fend for themselves. Big Jake had a healthy fear of Indians who always seemed to eye him as their next meal, and he could be expected to express his dislike in no uncertain .

Old Jake removed the spare rifle from Janet’s pack and carefully checked loads and priming for both his 50 caliber Hawken and the spare rifle. Unfortunately, the spare rifle was a 45 calibre gun which made reloading more complicated because of the difference in sizes. Once his check was completed he moved back to the deadfall and located the advancing Indians. Old Jake was puzzled. Why did they move directly toward him as if they knew where he was? He turned to place the spare rifle against the dead fall and there it was—a single moccasin print in the soft earth, and a hastily scattered bed of pine needles against the base of the log. They were chasing someone else! Old Jake’s luck had put him between the hunter and the quarry. Now he was sure it would not be a friendly visit.

In thinking about it, he had been lucky throughout the long autumn and winter of trapping and hunting. He had been able to find a spot on the ridge above this valley that provided both shelter and food for the mules. It had not been difficult to avoid the few Indians that traveled during the season of cold and snow. Trapping had not been as good as he ed in previous years, but he had occupied the extra time with hunting, and between the two he had managed to accumulate a fair cache of furs and beaver pelts. But, now, with the warmer weather, entire villages of Indians would be on the move to the hunting grounds. Shoshone, Ute, Arapahoe, Sioux, Crow and occasionally, Blackfoot all used these grounds for hunting. That was why he had chosen this place for his trapping ground. It was rumored that a few places remained where beaver could be found if you were willing to risk the war parties. They had been right, but he had waited too long to leave.

“Wal, nothin fer it now but tuh make the best uv it”. It was surely not his first

tight spot, nor his first Indian fight. He laid out his knife, tomahawk, or Hawk as it was called by the trappers, and rifles with care and settled down to wait. Meanwhile, he quickly set his strategy first for reducing the odds, and then to develop an escape plan. If he could kill or seriously wound two of the Indians with his first shots, he might gain enough time to reach the mules and escape back up the slope. If not, it would be a long afternoon. His best bet, and distinct advantage, was surprise. His first choice was to stay hidden and hope to avoid detection, but he had to be prepared for the worst.

The Indians were now just over three hundred yards away and still proceeding at a slow searching pace with their weapons held ready. They moved in the manner of a hunter who has not spotted his quarry. He could try a shot but would run a higher risk of missing and springing the trap too soon. He waited. While he waited he studied the approaching hunters. Crow. No doubt about it. They appeared to be mostly young and not garbed for war. Almost like a hunting party. And yet, not quite. If they were hunting game at this time of day, they would be in the timber near one of the watering spots rather than openly riding along the trail. They were also making no effort to be quiet.

“Nope. They ain’t huntin’ game. Huntin’ man. And not expectin’ tuh hev much big trouble. Must be jest one feller they’re lookin’ fer or thar’d be a lot more uv ’em. Sumpin’ got em mightly upset though.” The leading Crow was heavier, taller and appeared to be the leader. Everything in his manner and bearing showed anger and fight. He would have to be the first target. The hunting party was now two hundred yards away and moving steadily. Still too far for a certain kill.

Old Jake’s finger wandered nervously to the trigger, but he held back. Patience! Instead he set the rear trigger and waited. At one hundred and fifty yards, he took careful aim at the leader and began to count the steps. The leader was wearing a white, feathered medallion on the chest of his buckskin shirt—a real aiming point. At one hundred and twenty yards Old Jake squeezed the trigger and the 50 calibre ball smashed into the Crow’s chest just right of center of the

medallion. Old Jake didn’t see him fall. He was squinting through the smoke, sighting the second rifle, and squeezing off another shot. The lighter 45 calibre ball threw higher and took the second Indian through the throat. The other two Indians had dropped quickly behind their plunging horses.

Old Jake knew it was time to go. Quickly! Scooping up his weapons he scuttled back to the mules. Gathering lead ropes of the pack animals, he stopped long enough to reload the Hawken. He was certain that the confusion resulting from his shots would delay the two remaining Crows. That was his mistake. As he mounted Big Jake and started him up the slope at a run, one of the Crows stepped from behind his horse and fired. The combination of the plunging movement of Big Jake and the jennies, the hurried aim and intervening trees gave a less than satisfactory result for the Indian. The ball ed through the fringe of Old Jake’s leggings and plowed a furrow across Big Jakes front shoulder. The ensuing pain set Big Jake to even more frantic plunging. Janet and Jeanette were hard pressed to keep up. Old Jake knew his chances of escape were much better. With two of the hunting party down and one loaded rifle between the other two, he began to breathe again. Unfortunately, he underestimated the determination of the young hunter. As the laboring Big Jake reached the top of the ridge, Old Jake pulled him to a halt and scanned his back trail. He noted movement in the trees and swore softly. The young fool was chasing him on foot. The quarry they sought must really be big trouble. Dismounting and leaning the rifle across Big Jake’s saddle he once again waited patiently. He knew once the rifle discharged Big Jake would bolt, but he had carefully looped his lead rope over his left arm. Setting the trigger, he sighted on the spot where he expected the Crow to appear. Sure enough, the hunter stepped between two trees with his tomahawk clutched in one hand and the empty rifle in the other. Old Jake’s eyes narrowed. It was a boy not much older than Tim had been. He hesitated, but knew that despite the Indian’s age he was a determined and formidable foe. His finger tightened on the trigger and the Hawken’s bark broke the silence. “Damn!” He had compensated too much for the down slope and the ball hit the Crow in the upper left leg. No matter, he would be out of action for a long time after Old Jake’s departure. But where was the fourth Crow? He must move again. Quickly!

Once again in the saddle, Old Jake started northward down and along the eastern side of the ridge. His mind moved rapidly over the choices he had. He could not travel down the valley as planned. The Crow party had to have a camp somewhere down the valley. They were not carrying the baggage necessary for long travel in this country overnight. The question was, “Were there more Indians in the camp?” If he were to reach his destination at the far end of the big meadow, he would have to circle the meadow itself, and come into its lowest point from the north. To accomplish that, either the camp would have to be unoccupied or located somewhere else. Everything depended on having encountered a small isolated hunting party rather than a part of a larger band located near the lower reaches of the meadow. If such a band existed, the chances were that the fourth member of the Crow party would soon be on his way to get help. Then the chase would be on his way to get him for his shootings.

Big Jake was feeling the pain in his shoulder and beginning to make his feelings known. He kept reaching around and trying to bite at the pain. Old Jake pulled his head around each time and kept him moving northward. It was hard work on the side hill and he knew he should find shelter soon. However his desire to put more distance between himself and the site of the fight, however, was greater. Meanwhile, the sun was beginning to disappear behind the ridge to the west.

As the shadows grew deeper and the temperature dropped, Old Jake saw his chance. The side of the slope to his right dropped of fin a sheer rock wall. The drop off was no more than two hundred feet, but at its base, a small cup covered with trees had been formed when a portion of the rock slope had sheered away leaving a rounded depression with a flattened area. In the failing light he could see patches of unmelted snow and the glimmer of melted water in a few depressions in the trees. Not really what he needed for the mules who had spent a long hard day, but it would have to do.

Old Jake backtracked for a hundred yards until he reached a point where he could descend to the cup. Once there he unsaddled and unloaded the pack mules

carefully laying out the loads such that he could reload and be on his way quickly. Having tethered the mules near the water pools and the sparse grass in the cup, he now felt he could take care of Big Jake’s wound. Big Jake had sampled the melt water as only a mule can do being careful not to drink too much too fast as a horse might after a hard ride. Now he stood head down. Big Jake was nearly 16 hands tall and one of the more intelligent animals Old Jake had ever encountered. In fact, a sort of partnership had sprung up between the two in the two years they had been together. Big Jake seemed to be able to sense the moods and needs of the old man. Since the jennies faithfully followed Big Jake, such a bond with the man was not necessary.

Now, as Old Jake looked at the wound, his heart went out to the big animal. The wound was deep and jagged but had not hit a major blood vessel. The rough travel had kept it open and oozing blood, and from experience Old Jake knew it must be burning like fire. His limited medical experience said he needed to clean and cover the wound or risk problems with infection. Big Jake objected to the examination, and lunged to the end of the rope. When that failed, he threatened his partner with his teeth. Finally, Old Jake decided that he must risk a fire to heat water and prepare a covering. He searched through his packs until he found the small keg of trade whiskey and a small bag of bear fat that he kept for a variety of purposes including waterproofing and lubrication. He heated the bear fat over the fire until liquid. He then added a bit of the raw trade whiskey and headed for Big Jake. “Yer goin’ to hev tuh stand still if’n I goin to hep ya Now— whoa!” Big Jake reacted by taking a piece of flesh on the man’s shoulder between his teeth and holding it tightly without actually biting hard enough to break the skin. When he was through washing, Old Jake took a handful of the foul smelling bear grease mixture and quickly rubbed it over the wound. Big Jake erupted violently for a brief period and then settled down. The rueful look he gave the man fully conveyed his feelings about the abuse he had suffered in the past few hours from the human species. Old Jake decided he had done all he could. He hurried back to the fire and began dousing it with snow and dirt. No use putting out an engraved invitation to any unfriendly eyes in the area. It was then that he was aware of the vague shape at the edge of the trees highlighted by the fading light.

Chapter 2

Old Jake lunged for the Hawken and moved out of the light with the rifle trained on the shape. Whoever it was hadn’t moved. As he inched closer in watchful readiness, he noted that the figure stood with head bowed and arms clutching its middle in a pose of complete dejection and acceptance of whatever was to come. “Who are yuh? What do yuh want?” No answer. Only an outstretched, pleading hand. It was then Old Jake noticed the figure was an Indian woman—a squaw, and she appeared weak and sick.

He signed the question again. Old Jake was not good with any of the Indian dialects, but he was very good with the common means of communication—sign language. The answer, however, was so quick and fluid that he was forced to ask the question again. Even then he was not sure. As best he could piece together, she was called Spotted Deer Woman, and was fleeing from her Crow husband. She had born him a son while under brutal slavery as a captive third wife. Her husband had been an important warrior of the tribe, and been the first to die under Old Jake’s gun that afternoon. She had watched Old Jake’s fight from the ridge top, and followed him after his escape. She could go no farther. She had no food left and no weapons. She was ready to accept whatever the man decided her fate would be. “Wal,” Old Jake reflected, “Thet answers the question of who the hunters were lookin fer. What am Ah s’posed tuh do now?” He signed for her to sit next to the still smouldering fire, but she shook her head and turned back to the trees. His hand tightened on the rifle, but she returned immediately with a small boy. Old Jake groaned, “Damn, that cuts the ice. Not one problem, but a el uvem”. She signed her helplessness again, and sank wearily to the ground crooning softly to the child who clutched tightly to her. Old Jake shrugged moved to the small remaining fire and began reheating the water used for Big Jake’s wound. While it was heating he unwrapped his last smoked venison ham and cut a small pile of thin slices. The venison had ed its prime and didn’t smell too good, but would provide nourishment. When the water was hot, he dumped a double handful of parched com obtained months before into the pot. Not much, but it would have to do. When the water and com boiled, he dumped

the venison into the pot and boiled the rather slimy mess for a few minutes. He divided the rough meal between his two cups and the pot, gave the cups to the woman, completed putting out the fire and squatted with the pot to eat the meager meal.

As he ate, Old Jake, thought about how much he appreciated a hot meal, even if the taste was a bit strong and the use of the fire might increase the chance of detection. He always had liked a hot meal. Especially back on the farm when Alma had done the cooking, and he could relax with his pipe afterward. The woman and child ate noisily and hurriedly however. Obviously, it had been a long time since the last meal. Once done, she wiped the cups clean with a handful of grass and placed them in front of Old Jake. She was better trained than most.

“Must hev had with white settlers somewhar”, he thought. When Old Jake’s pot was empty, he again arranged his gear and packs for an early and quick departure. Only this time he removed the two buffalo hide pack covers and placed them under one of the pine. In the near total darkness, he grunted at the woman and pushed her toward the hastily made bed. Taking his own sleeping robe he retired to another tree separated a good six paces away, certainly not trusting his new guests.

Wrapped in his robe with the Hawken loosely covered beside him and his hawk under one hand, he was determined to stay awake until satisfied that his guests were completely settled for the night. His thoughts moved to plans for the coming day. The woman and her son presented a big problem. He could leave them, as he knew many of his fellow trappers would do, possibly brutalizing the woman before doing so. She really could expect no more. To be caught by her pursuer would have meant the loss of her son and death or mutilation. To steal a warrior’s son was not a small matter. Something within Old Jake could not accept the thought of abandoning her to the cruelties of the tribe over the ridge. As he lay waiting for sleep, his thoughts turned again, to his wife, Alma. Fifteen years ago, Old Jake had farmed a small piece of land in Tennessee. Alma,

although not a pretty woman, had an invariably cheerful nature and an unfailing inner courage that had carried them through the tough times of frontier farming. She had given him a son, Tim, and a daughter Annie. Their farm had prospered although not in of hard cash, but Old Jake’s persistence and careful husbanding of possessions had permitted enough return from the land and animals to provide a degree of comfort unusual for the times and frontier conditions. Old Jake was also not ignorant like so many of his fellow wanderers of the mountains. His mother had spent four years teaching him his letters and how to cipher before her untimely death. He had also read a few of the rare books available in the settlements during his younger days. Sometimes he wondered if the reading hadn’t made him weaker than he should have been for this life he had chosen. He did know that he was more inclined to think about consequences and feelings than his fellow trappers.

Then, 15 years ago, the fever came, spread throughout the Tennessee countryside by the constantly moving settlers and their own ignorance of any sort of disease prevention. It had taken Annie first at the age of six despite Alma’s ministrations. Their daughter was followed within days by Tim at age eight, and finally Alma herself, fatigued and worn out by her constant efforts to aid the children. At age 33 Old Jake was left without the things he loved most on this earth.

The tightness and pain returned to his chest as he ed digging the grave for his wife’s body in the cold wetness of the morning following a Tennessee winter rain. No one else was there. The fear of the fever that had afflicted so many of their neighbors kept them behind the tightly shut doors of their cabins. Once he had completed his sorrowful task, he retired to the once cheerful cabin he had known as home and began drinking from the jug he had kept in the leanto. For three years he alternated between insensibility and recovery while his farm fell into ruin and his possessions disappeared to pay for the whiskey.

Until one morning, he regained consciousness only to recognize that the shaking skin and bones, trembling arm and hand was his. He knew he must do something

or die. Forget, he could not, but restart, he might. He gathered his rifle, the few remaining personal items, mounted the one remaining horse and headed west.

Old Jake was not really old at 48. But he had survived the solitary existence of the high western mountains for twelve years. That fact had earned him the name Old Jake at a time when the average longevity of a trapper was not more than four or five seasons. Those that had achieved a similar longevity had done so by retiring to guiding. trading, settling in one of the growing number of “forts”, returning to the quieter eastern life or ending up buried in a nameless grave. No matter, the name had stuck, and now, he knew no other.

Actually Old Jake’s arrival on the trapping scene in 1830 had occurred after the peak period. Now, 12 years later, the beaver population had been seriously depleted and the market gone. Old Jake met his frugal needs by the same persistence and hard work he had put into the farm so long ago. The trip to the meadow on the previous day represented the end of his most recent trapping season. He had traveled to the high country to retrieve the small cache of bear and elk hides so carefully hidden late last fall. Now he was on his way to retrieve the small cache of beaver, fox and otter pelts at the lower end of the big meadow. His need to retrieve them and trade them for supplies including powder and lead, was acute, since his current supplies were nearly exhausted. He was not worried about where to go. There were many more traders and settlers coming into the area than there had been 12 years ago when the big event of the year was the trading Rendezvous, or Ronnyvoo as it was called by the trappers. All he had to do was head south to the trail west, and wait to one of the traveling groups.

Just before falling asleep, Old Jake made his decision. He would proceed north and west around the base of the ridge he now occupied until he reached the end of it, then move directly south until he came to the lowest point of the meadow. By keeping the ridge between himself and the meadow, he would be somewhat screened from prying eyes of anyone traveling on or near the meadow. Unfortunately, taking this detour would also force him to travel an extra day

without known sources of water. He had decided to take the woman and her son as far as the cache, if she chose to come. With these matters in order, Old Jake slept.

He awoke an hour before dawn to the cold, dark predawn so familiar to mountain dwellers. The woman arose immediately as if she had been waiting. She stood to one side and watched the man carefully. She appeared to be stronger and more alert.

“Wal, a bit of rest always helps,” thought Old Jake as he cut more slices of the venison, and placed them in three piles on a piece of bark with a little parched com by each. He motioned to the meager food, and then began gathering his equipment preparatory to loading the mules. As he worked he noticed the woman feeding herself and the small boy who was still seated on the pack covers that had served as a bed.

Old Jake picked up the remaining food and munched on it as he went to Big Jake to check his wound. The big mule was alert but less hesitant about the man’s examination this morning. During the night he had been able to rub off most of the foul smelling bear fat and whiskey mixture covering the wound. Old Jake returned to the packs and grabbed a handful of the mixture remaining from the previous night and proceeded to spread it over the wound. Big Jake snorted and stamped nervously, but did not fight as on the first application. The pain must have subsided.

Once Big Jake was saddled, Old Jake moved to the task of loading the two jennys. He was surprised to find the packs formed and the woman waiting with the covers and tie down thongs. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Squaws were taught that chore early in life. Apparently, however, she had decided to throw in her lot with the trapper.

“Pushy.” he thought. “Ah ain’t even asked yit. Oh, wal, it ’ll save a lot uv time ’.” He did not fail to notice that with help, the task of loading the mules was quickly done and they were ready to move. By now, there was enough gray light in the east that he could get a better look at his two “guests”. The women’s buckskin garment was in tatters, with numerous tears indicating hard travel through the rocks and brush of the countryside. Her moccasins were mere shreds, and her feet showed signs of having bled recently.

“Damn. Another problem.” Obviously any attempt to walk would result in a slower space than Old Jake was willing to accept. How she could have gotten very far from a main camp of Crows was another mystery that he had neither the time nor inclination to pursue. Oh well, he would have to put her on Big Jake until something else could be arranged. He didn’t want to overburden all three animals on what amounted to a dry march.

He signed for the woman and child to mount the mule. Her reaction surprised him. Eyes round with apprehension she shook her head violently. While mules were not unknown to the Indians, riding one as large and independent as Big Jake was apparently intimidating to the woman. Old Jake’s patience was growing thin. He signed angrily to the woman to do as she was told, and she moved to comply. Now Old Jake had another problem. Big Jake was distinctly unhappy at the approach of two strangers smelling strongly of Indian camps. In fact Big Jake objected violently, confirming the woman’s doubts. Having his wound smeared with foul smelling grease was a severe indignity, but accepting an Indian was beyond enduring. Completely beyond the limits of his patience, Old Jake grabbed the mule’s bridle, and planted a moccasined foot in the mule’s ribs with all the authority he could muster. However, the mule, undeterred, laid back his ears and lunged with teeth bared. Clinging to the bridle, the trapper jerked the mule’s head to one side and grabbed his ear in a horny hand. His anger temporarily overcome by pain, the mule stood eyeing the trapper balefully during the temporary truce. Old Jake hoarsely said, “Git in the saddle ye danged idjit” all the while jerking his head toward the saddle. When the woman began to move slowly toward the mule, too slowly, Old Jake increased both his cursing and head movement. At that point, Spotted Deer grabbed the boy and climbed aboard the now trembling mule. The trapper sighed heavily and released his grip

on the mule’s ear, and was immediately forced to duck to avoid losing part of his scalp to a large set of yellow teeth. Keeping a tight grip on the bridle and lead rope, Old Jake tied the pack mules’ lead ropes to the big mule’s saddle and began moving along the bottom of the slope in the chosen direction. After a few unsuccessful attempts to remove portions of the legs of his unwelcome riders, Big Jake decided to bide his time and follow the only human he trusted even if he disagreed with him at times.

Old Jake knew he could move through the heavy timber covering the lower slope almost as fast as a mounted horseman. He set a pace that he felt he could comfortably maintain all day and still carefully observe his surroundings. Lead rope in one hand and Hawken in the other, he picked a course that balanced an avoidance of obstructions with cover from intruders’ eyes. The zigzag, up and down travel necessitated by the tree cover and numerous small ravines quickly took its toll on both man and animals. At the end of an hour, Old Jake estimated that they had traveled no more than a mile or a mile and one half His estimate of a day and a half to cover this longer more difficult route might have to be revised. The little party kept pushing along at a grueling pace, urged on by Old Jake. He noted with some satisfaction that the woman rode well.

“Not like a danged sack uv grain like so many do.” he thought. She also kept a sharp watch in all directions. He was grateful to be relieved of the full burden of avoiding any searching Crow. During his hurried inspections while traveling, he had also noted that the woman was attractive in a strong featured way common to those of her ancestry. Her skin was somewhat lighter than those of the Northern tribes, and she had an erect, graceful bearing astride the mule. She also didn’t affect the shy, modest glances common to the times. Instead, her bright, dark eyes were alert and direct. She had a small boned, but well muscled frame —probably the result of the grueling work usually imposed on Indian slaves. She had a somewhat haggard appearance, and her face showed lines around the mouth and eyes. Again, it was the result of captivity and constant worry. All things taken into , he placed her age at mid-twenties. The boy, too, was an attractive Indian child with bright, dark eyes, chubby round face and a quiet, cheerful disposition that was unusual in Jake’s experience. His clothes were the usual Indian child’s buckskins, not particularly suitable for rough travel, but in

much better condition than his mother’s. It was apparent that she had carried, cared for and protected him during their flight. Well, it appeared she had some better than usual qualities, but the big question was where in the heck she was going.

At noon Old Jake stopped to rest near a melt pond and allowed the mules to drink. He did not permit the woman and child to dismount, but rather brought them water in his skin bag and a handful of parched corn each. He did not relish the thought of a repeat performance of the man—mule disagreement of the morning. Big Jake suffered in silence and patiently waited for an opportunity to get even. The noon stop was brief, and Old Jake set out at a brisk pace again with no comment or complaint by the woman.

Once during the afternoon, the woman hissed a warning, and Old Jake froze. There was movement on the ridge. Old Jake followed the look of the woman without moving, and detected the flashes of movement. It could have been wild game or Crow. They took no chances, but remained still for a long half-hour. Even the mules sensed the mood and remained still. When Old Jake decided it was safe, they moved on once more.

The sun was a hand’s width above the ridge on its long descent when the trapper began his search for a safe camp for the night. Luck was with them. Just as the sun touched the ridge line, they rounded a bend, and there it was. It consisted of a rock wall extending nearly to the top of the ridge with large boulders scattered throughout a small meadow in front of the wan. The meadow had enough dried grass from the previous season to keep the mules satisfied for several days if needed. The only worrisome problem was that the scattered boulders would provide cover for an attacking party as well as for Old Jake and his group. He decided, however, that any approach by hostile Crows would be detected by Big Jake with attendant warning. The lack of water also bothered the trapper, but there was no other choice.

Old Jake quickly selected the site, and was pleased to find that it included a deep vertical split in the rock that would serve to hide a fire. With no wind, it was hard to imagine anyone detecting smoke rising vertically through the split. He quickly moved the party into the rocks and began the task of setting up camp. He noticed that when the woman dismounted, she staggered and almost fen. Oh well, a fun day in the saddle would do that to anyone. It did not, however, stop her from pitching into the chore of making camp. Old Jake chuckled.

“Good training” he thought. In any event the camp was quickly established with the squaw’s pack covers that served as sleeping robes placed near the split in the rock, the mules tethered in reach of the grass and the packs stored in the nearby rocks. Old Jake signed a need for a fire and the woman quickly gathered the necessary dried branches and pine knots.

Old Jake glumly sliced the remaining venison reflecting on the worsening smell and wishing he had a fresh venison steak. The squaw having started the fire in the rock as shown, moved to gather a few leaves of unknown origin, and added them to the water just then beginning to boil. When the trapper added the venison and parched corn, he noticed a pungent odor coming from the pot. The meal that night lacked much of the rotten smell and taste of the previous night. Water still remained a problem. Old Jake was forced to give each of the mules a small drink of the precious supply in the water bag.

The fire added a pleasant note to the camp, and each in his own way began to settle down. Reluctantly, Old Jake rose, drew his skinning knife and walked to the woman’s sleeping robes. Her apprehension for herself and the boy were apparent as he neared. When he reached the robes he carefully placed one foot and then the other on the edge Of the thick hide and traced the pattern of each foot with his knife. Once completed, he gestured for the remnants of the woman’s moccasins and returned to a position near the fire. There he applied the awl he had managed to save from the long abandoned farm to the task of patching the moccasins to the new sole. When she realized what he was doing, the squaw quickly sat down next to him, signed for the tool and began the repair.

She was done in about half the time it would have taken Old Jake. With a slight and fleeting smile, she returned the awl, and returned to her robes.

Old Jake remained by the fire to contemplate the coming day. They had probably not covered more than six or seven of the fourteen miles needed for the detour. The going had been very rough, with frequent detours around rocks and deadfalls. In some spots they had been forced to travel around steep cuts in the rock. They would need another day as good or better than the one they had just made to reach the spot where his winter’s furs were buried. The task of digging up the stored pelts and equipment would require three to four hours, thus it would be necessary to camp at the cache site for the night if they proceeded directly. Despite the almost desperate need for the few balls and the extra powder horn stored with the cache of furs, he decided that they would try for the small, secluded bowl high above the cache where he had wintered. It would give them a chance to examine the countryside near the cache for Indians before approaching the site. The sod and log shelter in the bowl had been dismantled when he left:, but there was grass and water, and the bowl provided excellent shelter from anyone’s searching eyes. It was also closer to their present location by virtue of being near the crest of the ridge they would need to cross.

The trapper moved to his sleeping robe and laid out his weapons preparing for sleep. As he did so, he noted the gleam of the woman’s eyes in the fading firelight. Still awake. Not much trust there either. The sound of the mules eating the dried grass had stopped. They must have eaten their fill of the supply of grass, and were now waiting for morning.

Old Jake was up and stirring at his customary time before the first gray of dawn began to show. Breakfast required very little time since it was no more than a handful of cold, parched corn. Saddling, packing, loading and getting under way was quicker this morning. The woman had grasped the routine, and in true fashion of nomadic women had shouldered her share of the work. When they were ready to leave, she placed the boy on one of the Jenny’s and prepared to walk. The trapper shook his head, and signed her to mount Big Jake. The mule

went through a token show of resistance, and then began following Old Jake. He had decided to forego the indignities suffered on the previous morning.

The second day was a repeat of the first with the exception of a lack of food for both the travelers and the animals. By mid-afternoon they were tiring rapidly, and it was now time to climb the ridge and drop into the bowl as the light faded. As he started up the steep slope, he noticed that the woman dismounted and walked beside the mule. Big Jake resisted an urge to apply his teeth, and concentrated his efforts on following the man up the slope. He did however, aim a half-hearted kick at her that was easily avoided. By the time they reached the top and ed above the tree line they were breathing heavily and struggling. Suddenly, the squaw moved back into the trees, and began searching the ground. She returned with two stout sticks about a foot and a half long and two inches in diameter. She began a slow stalk up the remaining rocky slope. That’s it! Old Jake understood! During the warmer afternoon, ptarmigan had moved onto the north slope in search of food. The ptarmigan had not lost their winter white totally, and were hard to detect among the patches of snow, but within a short time she had killed two of the slow moving birds with her makeshift throwing sticks. The action on her part demonstrated a complete understanding of the need for meat and the necessity to avoid a rifle shot. When the woman returned with the birds, Old Jake signed his approval and took the sticks from her. He had been given another idea by the woman’s action.

As they quickly traversed the rocky ridge and moved down the other side, he not only scanned the big meadow in the distance but searched the moss covered rocks surrounding the crest. He noted two things. One with alarm! The meadow had a number of moving figures on it. Their 9500 foot elevation gave him a clear view of the expanse of the meadow below. The second thing he saw as they moved across the bare rocks was a small colony of marmots. He motioned the woman to take the mules to the trees, and then moved toward the rodents in a half crouch. When he was close enough he flung one of the throwing sticks without success. Missing the target widely, the stick disappeared in the rocks. His second throw had more success. The stick struck the marmot a glancing blow with sufficient force to stun it. In his haste to get to the animal and complete the kill, he lost the other stick.

When Old Jake hurried to the trees with the dead marmot the woman was waiting. In true squaw fashion she took the animal from him as was her duty; and, he thought, smiled. Whether at his ineptness, the thought of the tough, strong tasting meat or just the prospect of more fresh meat he didn’t know. He didn’t care. They had food.

Chapter 3

Old Jake led the small party across the south slope, and through the trees to the bowl he had been seeking. The mules, sensing a familiar spot that represented as much of a home as they would know, moved with renewed strength. On reaching the lip of the bowl they scrambled over the edge and dropped into the safety of the bowl itself. The bowl was about 50 paces in diameter with small trees scattered along its edges and a thick growth of last year’s grass that would be adequate. At the edge of the bowl bordering the ridge was a small pool formed by a combination of melting snow and a small spring that fed the meadow. They were safe! Mighty forces that created this haven had gouged a depression in the side of the rocky ridge some four or five thousand feet above the valley below. Over the years the cycle of snow and melt with the attendant runoff had deepened the depression at the back of the bowl and accentuated the ridge at its exposed front. The bowl had been covered by a tough grass cover and a small stand of pine. The spring that fed the small pool also contributed to the runoff, forming a small stream that ran from one comer of the bowl in springtime. From the valley below, the only thing visible was the sheltering ridge at the front edge. Old Jake had no worries that they would be seen, unless someone climbed the ridge, and stumbled into the bowl by accident. Old Jake had explored all possibilities the previous autumn.

Old Jake and the woman quickly made camp after watering and tethering the mules. Then, while it was still light, the trapper moved to the lip of the bowl and searched the area below. There were at least four parties of horsemen on the meadow. In the growing dusk he counted a total of 14 points of light at a location that appeared to be a large camp. As a rough estimate that number would represent nearly 70 warriors and 90 or 100 women and children. A large camp. Most likely a hunting camp, because at this time the Crows were generally friendly to the more numerous Shoshoni who inhabited this particular part of the Rocky Mountains. Their relationship to the white trappers was more uncertain. Increasing pressure by traders, soldiers on mapping incursions and settlers the previous year had caused strong resentment on the part of some of

the younger Crow. Isolated raids on trappers by Crow warriors in the past year had caused Old Jake’s caution and response of two days earlier. Now that fight and the presence of the woman and child presented a major rift between himself and the Crow. The age of the first wagon train the previous year with more to come, and the hostile actions of many of the western tribes all made for an even greater need for caution.

Old Jake prepared to move back off the rim and noted that the woman had ed him. As he turned she signed rapidly. Her husband’s band. Crow. Hunting party. Young braves urging war against whites. All whites. Old men speak patience. Wait. Much trouble. The trapper sighed, signed that he understood, and began to move back to camp. When he looked back at the camp, there was no sign of the boy. His gaze swept the bowl, and his breath caught in his throat. There he was, standing next to Big Jake with a bit of dried grass held up for his consideration. Old Jake lunged for the mule and then stopped. Big Jake’s ears were pointed forward in interest, not laid back. His neck was stretched as far as possible as he took the preferred morsel. The delighted boy ran forward and grabbed one of Big Jake’s front legs with both arms. Old Jake held his breath again, but the mule merely pushed the boy away with his nose and backed politely away. It was going to be all right.

When the sky had darkened to the point where the smoke would not be seen, the trapper made the fire. He built the fire behind a screen of logs remaining from the winter shelter to avoid having the light seen from the valley. The trapper led the mules to the water for a last drink before tethering them on more grass for the night. He also spread the sleeping robes and rechecked the covers on the furs and supplies. Last of all he checked the priming on the rifles in case of the unlikely event of unwanted visitors. He hoped none of the Indians would wander about at night and did not really expect it. No use taking a chance though. A gunshot fired at an intruder in these mountains would set the entire area alive with searching Indians at first light.

The woman had expertly cleaned the ptarmigan and fashioned a crude tripod for

broiling the meat. The meal would consist of freshly roasted meat, boiled parched corn and a mixture of seeds and roots collected in the bowl. The woman, not too sure of the use for marmot, had also skinned and prepared it. Old Jake signed that it would be cut in strips and smoked for travel.

The ptarmigan roast, tough and stringy after the winter’s cold, was a welcome addition after the meager diet of the previous days. Old Jake had tried to put one of the roast birds in the pack for the next day, but the woman had insisted they eat their fill. There would be more. And there were. When the trapper awoke in the cold, dark before dawn, she was gone, and the boy was still asleep in the bed of robes. She had returned by the time the sun was a hand width above the mountains, and she was carrying four more of the birds. These she began cleaning and preparing for the next meal.

Old Jake decided it was time to take care of personal needs. His boyhood training and family life had left him with a habit of personal cleanliness and neatness uncommon to most of his mountain comrades. It was not an easy habit to accommodate in a life filled with dirt, blood, grime and vermin common to the outdoor life he lived. Yet, he took every opportunity he could to wash both himself, and the inside of his buckskins. For one thing, he found that it reduced the number of lice, ticks and assorted other unwanted fellow travelers.

The trapper had already checked the Indian encampment from the rim of the bowl below several times, and determined that there would be no movement today. All that could be done was to keep a sharp lookout to ensure that overly curious Crows did not approach the bowl. Not that he expected that to happen, because the approaching slope gave no hint of the bowls presence and game would be scarce at these altitudes in this season. Accordingly, he took the last small block of lye soap he had obtained from the trader the previous fall, and went to the lower of the two pools to avoid spoiling the drinking water. The boy went with him to watch curiously. He stripped off his worn, greasy buckskins and began to scrub himself with the strong, harsh soap. The water was freezing, but after the first shock, he began to enjoy the feeling of tingling skin. Once

scrubbed, he moved to the grass and began rubbing the insides of his buckskins lightly with the soap. It would help to remove both the grime and the crawling varmints that had ed him. If too much were used, it would be hard to remove and cause chafing of his skin as he worked and traveled. When the buckskins were lightly coated, he began to rub the soap off with a damp piece of flannel cloth from an old shirt that had long since worn out. He wished he could find an active anthill. Placing the buckskins over the anthill as the Indians did would not only remove the lice, but blood as well.

As he finished, he looked up to see where the boy was, and was shocked to see the woman standing nearby, watching and smiling broadly. Old Jake quickly grabbed the buckskins and covered himself, the woman laughed softly. Nudity was not a cause for embarrassment in her life. Growing up in her tribe, bathing and nudity were common. Her life as a slave had not changed that. She was amused at the man’s reaction, but it also pleased her that it was so different from the reaction of the other white men with whom she had had .

When Old Jake returned to the camp, fully dressed, he avoided looking at the woman. He did notice that the four ptarmigan by the cold campfire were completely dressed and ready along with two new throwing sticks. Two of the birds were prepared for roasting while the other two were boned and cut in strips prepared for smoking. She was getting ready for the trail. Old Jake had a partner —one he was not sure he wanted after all these years of being on his own, but it appeared that the choice had been made. As he squatted by the campsite, toying idly with the cooking utensils, the woman signed a request. Could she use the soap? Surprised, the trapper agreed before he realized what he had done. She took her son and went to the lower pool where she removed the tattered buckskins from both of them. Old Jake could not help but notice how comely she was, but also betrayed his prudishness by being embarrassed by the thought of peeping at her. He turned and went to the rim of the bowl where he tried to ignore the very personal act taking place at the pool. Observing his act the woman smiled to herself at the thought of the consideration for privacy shown by this foreign but thoughtful man. Once she had completed a thorough scrubbing of the small boy and herself, she dressed and returned to the campsite. It was now time to complete an overhaul of all of the equipment in preparation

for the trip she knew must come-either alone or with the strange white man, whichever he chose. She knew she could not make it on her own, but she must try. She was not sure of his intentions or whether he had any concern for her plight. So far, he had shown kindness and consideration, but no sign had been given that he wanted her to continue with him. She was sure that she had to get away from this area.

Old Jake was also considering the situation as he studied the activities of the Crow camp below. There seemed to be no urgency to move on the part of the Indians. He must wait until it was safe to retrieve the furs in the cache. Without the furs, he could not obtain the supplies needed to survive the summer. To supplement the meager beaver harvest, he would need to obtain the valuable bear skins and the increasingly important buffalo hides if he were to continue his hunters existence. Hunting either of these animals required powder and lead. His supplies of these items were dangerously low. He had 22 of the Hawken balls and 8 of the 45 calibre rifle balls. He had powder enough for the lead unless there was an accident such as wetting of these supplies. What it amounted to was that he had ammunition for food if he was lucky, but defense of himself and the woman, and increasing his holdings of furs and supplies could not be done without jeopardizing their food supply. He must retrieve his furs and reach a point where he could trade them for supplies. Lead, powder, com, salt, flour, maybe a little sugar, and cloth for clothing and cover were needed. The woman and child would have to go too. Old Jake had decided. He could not leave them to the uncertainty of recapture by the Crow or an equally undesirable fate at the hands of wandering trappers or white traders. But first, he would need a better way to communicate than sign language.

Old Jake, Spotted Deer Woman and the child were fated to stay in the bowl for six days. During that time, they kept busy preparing for the coming trip. More ptarmigan were harvested, smoked and prepared—she avoided the marmots as undesirable for food. Equipment and clothing were repaired. The mules were given extra care, and two very important activities for the future were begun. The first of these were efforts on the part of the woman—Old Jake refused to call her squaw—to gain the confidence of Big Jake. She began by gathering green tidbits that were beginning to show in sheltered spots on the southern

slopes they inhabited. These she offered to the mule. In the beginning these were met with a disdain possible only to a mule. He simply ignored the gift and the giver. Gradually, however, his natural curiosity and greed overcame his pride. By the second day he was accepting food from her hand. By the fourth day, he permitted her to perform basic grooming rites with pine branches that had been turned into brushes by the trapper’s knife. The boy had assisted in the process by serving as a bridge. As far as Big Jake was concerned, they both were now family. The jennies quickly followed suit. The second process involved teaching the woman a bit of the English language as Old Jake knew it. It was a painful process. Old Jake was not a teacher. He had been too long separated from both children and human companionship. He began by pointing to objects and repeating the names.

“Tree”

“Dree”

‘Tree”

“Tdree”

“Tree”

“Rock”

“Ock”

And on and on it went until Old Jake would give up. But he realized the Woman was far from stupid. On the contrary, the combination of her actions and quickness of learning gave Old Jake a growing respect for her. Not beautiful but bright and considerate and, therefore, attractive.

On the fifth day Old Jake and Deer Woman noticed that the Crow were preparing for a move. They observed from the rim of the bowl the extra bustle and movement of a camp in preparation for travel. Deer Woman, anxious to show her new knowledge, said,

“Go now”

“We wait, half sun,” replied Old Jake. The rest of the day was spent in preparation. The following morning, they watched the loading and departure of the Crow camp with satisfaction. By the time the sun was two hands above the mountains to the east, the camp was on the move downstream, and out of the big meadow. The last stragglers disappeared from sight by the time the sun reached its highest point in the springtime sky. Deer Woman smiled her acknowledgement and relief to the trapper, and returned to the camp to complete packing.

Packing was not a big task. In addition to the bare necessities of cooking equipment, not more than 50 pounds of weasel, marten, deer and elk hides comprised the furs from Old Jake’s high mountain cache. Thanks to the work of Deer Woman they had two skin bags of trail food, consisting of finely pounded ptarmigan, pine nuts, grass seeds, dried berries and selected roots. It would serve during periods of travel but need to be supplemented with fresh game. The smoked marmot had been relegated to a separate skin container. It’s appearance, strong aroma and rodent origin had not been accepted by Deer Woman. Only in dire circumstances would she be convinced that it was satisfactory food. In

deference and consideration of Old Jake’s hunting ability she did continue to carry it.

Chapter 4

It was a well fed and rested party of animals and people that left the sheltered bowl just prior to dusk that evening. The light was sufficient to permit safe age down the slope. The fact that they were behind the exodus of the Crow reduced the chance of detection by that group. Their location in the mountains made pursuit by Indian enemies of the Crow unlikely. They moved quickly to the site of the cache. Despite the small size of the cache it would take Old Jake several hours to recover it, and he wanted to be several miles to the south in a secluded location by sunrise. He began by quickly removing the dirt and leaves that served as a concealing cover. He then pulled the tightly fit log cover away, and began lifting the bundles of pelts from the resulting hole. He estimated that there were no more than 60 beaver pelts. Not much to show for a full season of words when compared to a couple hundreds pelts taken by a trapper during heyday of the beaver trade new year.

Old Jake removed the pelts, Deer Woman separated all of the belongings into three pack bundles. They would have to press Big Jake into pack service as well. Despite their familiarity with the task, it was well past midnight before the mules were loaded and the boy was mounted on Big Jake’s pack. The man and woman were very tired, but Deer Woman shared the trapper’s urgency to put distance between the former Indian camp and themselves. The risk of a small party returning in the morning for a misplaced item was too great. They set off in a southerly direction leading the mules. The going was hard with only the light of the stars and a thin sliver of moon to help them.

Old Jake’s decision to move south was based on a number of factors, not the least of which was his conviction that the Crow would move north and east with the onset of warmer weather. He doubted that they would move deeper into Shoshoni country despite the generally friendly relations with that tribe. The trapper also wanted to take advantage of the attitude of the Shoshoni. But most

important he knew his best opportunity to encounter a trading party was to reach the trail that crossed South on its way to Idaho and Oregon.

Old Jake estimated they had traveled three long, hard miles when the sky in the east began to turn gray. He knew they must find a hiding place for the daylight hours. After stumbling across a small stream, he began moving up the slope on the other side, searching as he went. And then he found it. A small stand of thick timber with a number of fallen logs throughout that enclosed a tiny meadow. The meadow butted against the steeper slope to the south. Despite legs and arms that were leaden with fatigue, they hurriedly unloaded and tethered the animals. The woman went quickly to the stream for water and returned just as the edge of the sun reached the rim of the mountains. Old Jake was again grateful for the mixed blessing of the good weather of the past few days. Unfortunately, it was good for Indian travel to the area.

After a cold breakfast washed down with water from the stream, Old Jake signed to the woman to sleep and moved to a vantage post amid the logs at the edge of the timber to keep watch. He would wake her when he needed relief. The rising sun and temperature felt good. He caught himself dozing several times during the first two hours. Suddenly, he came awake and felt real fear. Not more than 60 or 70 paces in front of him were two fully armed and mounted Crow warriors approaching at a point slightly below that which Old Jake’s party had crossed that morning. They were not following his tracks, but any noise or movement from the camp could easily be detected at the range of the warriors. He froze with his Hawken at the ready between two logs. Why were they here, heavily armed and painted for war? Were they, in fact, tracking him? Had the killing of the two warriors days earlier aroused them to pursue to the death? Or, were they after other quarry, and spread throughout the area in their search? He would probably never know, but he was prepared for the worst. They had stopped to let their horses drink at the stream. At least any noise from his camp would have to exceed the noise of the busy stream.

The Indians were taking their time. They couldn’t know Old Jake was so close.

The 60 yard distance was too easy a rifle shot to ignore. Sweat began to run down the trappers chest and sides, and had nothing to do with the bright, sunny day. He detected a slight movement behind him out of the comer of his eye. He felt a crawling sensation in the middle of his back. Very slowly he turned his head, and saw Deer Woman flat on her stomach moving forward an inch at a time. She was bringing the second rifle.

How she had awakened and determined the situation, he didn’t have time or the inclination to consider. He also didn’t want to think about the lack of care of the boy and the mules, any of whom could disclose their hiding place with a startled bray or cry. He only knew that the odds had improved considerably with the arrival of the second rifle. His heart beat and breathing began to return to a more normal level.

The Indians remained near the stream talking for long, agonizing minutes, closely watched by the two hidden behind the logs. One move toward the hiding place would have brought rifle balls crashing into the unsuspecting warriors, for Deer Woman had already made the sign for bad to Old Jake. After what seemed like hours, the two warriors turned their horses downstream and disappeared from sight. The man and woman moved cautiously back to camp. He noted with satisfaction that the mules had been tethered to separate trees and only a pair of sharp brown eyes peering from the edge of the sleeping robes revealed the presence of the boy. Old Jake was so relieved that he gave Deer Woman’s shoulder a quick hug with his free arm as they moved into the camp. Puzzled by the unfamiliar action, she gave the man a searching look, shrugged her shoulders and moved on.

“Oh, well, whites were known to have crazy ways anyway.” The day was spent alternately watching and dozing in preparation for the night. Deer Woman took her turn at guard duty without comment on the part of either person. Old Jake was satisfied that her during the previous day had indicated that she could be trusted—at least for now. No attempt, however, was made to conduct the English lessons. He was just too tired, and concerned about their safety.

Besides, he didn’t want to risk the extra noise—or so he told himself

By the time the sun was two palm widths above the western mountains, Old Jake and the woman were busy preparing the packs and equipment for the night’s travel. When the sun had set and dusk deepened they continued their trek in a southerly direction. The going was easier tonight. Old Jake had moved further down the Western slope of the mountain range, and they were traveling trails he knew. The risk was higher, but he doubted that any Indians would be abroad before sun up the next day. They were also aided in their travel by the fact that last night’s sliver of moon had increased in size by another sliver.

Hour after hour they hurried on their way. Old Jake had a particular goal. On one of the ridges that extended westward into the Wind River Valley from the Wind River Mountains, he had found a secluded ledge on the western-most point the previous year. The ledge was only 200 to 300 feet above the bordering valley, but it was protected by a steep rock slope on the valley side and an overhanging rock cliff on the ridge side. The trapper calculated that the spot was 10, maybe 15, miles from the place where they had started. Throughout the night he varied the pace of the group from the fast, shuffling walk used by those who spent long periods on the trail to the ground eating lope common to those forced to trail animals—and human quarry. He was gratified to find that Deer Woman could nearly match his changes in pace. It was necessary to make the periods of walking only slightly longer than if he had been alone. He would find, however, in the morning that the strain and effort of keeping up had taken their toll.

Old Jake estimated that the night had ed into its last half when he began to recognize features near the trail that indicated they were not far from the campsite. The distance they had covered this night must not have been much more than 10 miles. That meant they had covered the distance in six or seven hours with not more than one to go. Old Jake underestimated the condition of the little troop. The last 300 feet up to the ledge took over a half hour with the woman and mules stumbling on the rocks repeatedly. Urged on by the trapper, they staggered on to the ledge, and Deer Woman sank to the ground and didn’t

move. Even the mules stood with heads hanging.

Despite his own fatigue, he dumped the mules loads where they stood, then built a small fire. He would risk it, since dawn was a couple hours away. If he had a bed of coals by that time, he could cook, and little smoke would occur. He had one chore left. He gathered up the water skins, and made the trip back down the slope to the seep he knew was several hundred paces back up the base of the ridge. The trip back up the rock slope with the three water skins was sheer agony. Once there, he gave the mules a sparing drink, rolled Deer Woman into the robes with the boy, and collapsed into his own robe. The little group slept.

Old Jake slept longer than he wanted. When he awoke, the fire was out and the coals nearly dead. He pushed the remaining coals together, placed the pot directly on them, and filled it with water. As he waited for the water to heat, he had to fight the sleep his body so desperately needed. The water did not boil before the coals died, but it did reach the point where it was hot to touch. He sighed resignedly, poured some of the mixture of smoked ptarmigan, seeds, berries and parched corn into the pot. When he thought the semi-liquid mess was warm enough, he scraped part into a bowl, and took it to the woman and boy. He lifted her by the shoulders while she noisily sucked some of the food from the bowl, and fed a small amount to the boy with her fingers. He knew that in true Indian tradition she must still be nursing the child in addition to the food given. Once done, she sank back, and was almost immediately asleep. Old Jake returned to the fireside, finished the food in the pot, and then went to his robe. The camp slept again.

When Old Jake awoke it was late morning and the sun was gone. While he slept, a bank of clouds had moved over the valley and surrounding mountain ridges from the northwest. Rain. Snow maybe. Their good weather had ended. He must get a shelter made. From his experience of the previous summer when he had used this site as a base for his exploration of the beaver streams in the area, he knew what needed to be done. He began by moving all their gear under the overhang. Because the ledge faced the direction of the oncoming storm, he

leaned some of the smaller logs and branches against the rock outcrop and covered them with smaller branches. He then lashed pack covers over the branches with rawhide thongs. Behind this crude barrier, he had a space of about 8 feet by 10 feet. Just at the opening in the south end he laid out a campfire and gathered as much firewood as he could readily find. The few trees on the ledge would provide some protection, but not enough. The mules would make good use of the trees. The trapper took the packs of furs and stacked them in the opening to provide a windbreak. He was almost ready. All he needed was more water and—maybe—meat. By now it was mid-afternoon and the clouds had lowered even further. No need to worry about Indians for now. They would be preparing for the storm they knew was coming.

Old Jake gathered the water bags and his rifle and set out for the seep. Deer Woman stirred restlessly in the robes, but did not rise. The trapper did not go directly to the seep. He circled up the ridge and around the seep to a point slightly above it. He took cover behind a clump of low brush. He was sure any deer in the area would also be seeking cover and water. But would they seek it here? The temperature was dropping rapidly now and a light rain began. It was also getting darker.

He was in luck! Two doe, their fawns and a yearling buck approached from the opposite slope. Behind his cover, he quickly checked. The fawns were too small and the does too big for him to handle easily. When they paused to drink, he took careful aim and broke the neck of the young buck. It was not a difficult shot. The distance was only about 60 paces and the light was adequate. The rising wind muffled the sound of the shot, and Old Jake was satisfied.

He moved to the fallen buck and expertly gutted it saving the heart and liver. Now he was faced with a second trip to get both the buck and the water back to camp. He hoisted the buck to his shoulders, took the rifle, now reloaded, and started up the slope. By the time he reached the ledge, he was gasping for breath and his shoulders and arms felt like they were on fire from the strain of carrying the buck. The woman had not moved from the robes. As he carried the buck to

the shelter he signed for the woman to follow.

As he dropped the buck, he looked back, and saw Deer Woman trying to crawl, and carry the boy at the same time. When he reached her side, he saw her feet. They were swollen and bloody between the rents in the mocassins Old Jake had fashioned. Damn! More trouble.

He carried the boy to the shelter, and returned for the woman. When he picked her up, he noticed that she was surprisingly light. After placing her in the shelter, he retrieved the sleeping robes, and added them to the growing population in the makeshift shelter. He then picked up his rifle, and started wearily back down the slope. One more task. Despite the rest he had received early in the day, weariness now weighed heavily on him. His exertions in preparing for the storm were taking their toll. And he was not done yet.

When he returned, he quickly and expertly built a small but efficient fire, and placed the pot with water to boil. He then cut thick steaks from the now chilled buck. He was determined to have his fill of fresh meat tonight. Suspending the steaks over the fire to roast, he turned his attention to Deer Woman. She had returned to the sleeping robes while he got the water. He signed to her to show him her feet. She was reluctant but finally lifted the robe. Bad. They would not travel for several days. After he removed the tattered mocassins, he took some heated water and another piece of the old flannel shirt, and carefully washed the blood and grime from her badly swollen, rock-cut feet. That done, he retrieved the bear grease and whisky mixture used for Big Jake, and applied a coating to the woman’s abused feet. She watched with interest and what appeared to be approval, but she said nothing.

Having done all his medical skills permitted, Old Jake moved to the task of preparing something to eat. This time he would enjoy it. The ptarmigan trail mix had not been sufficiently smoked and dried to avoid having attained a strong smell. It was also stringy and difficult to chew. He added parched corn to the

water, and waited until the mixture boiled. At that point, he decided the steaks had received enough attention. Filling a bowl with the corn mush and steak, he took it to Deer Woman. Sitting with a robe around her shoulders, she risked burning her fingers to chew hungrily on the steak. She smiled broadly. Old Jake’s smile was even broader as he hungrily ate the other steak. He didn’t linger by the fire after eating his fill. He checked the mules and retired to his robe noting that a few snow flakes were mixed with the rain. He fell asleep almost immediately.

He awoke late, and savored the warmth of the sleeping robe. The wind was still strong and the snow falling. These late spring storms could bring sharp cold and deep snow, but did not usually last more than one to two days before rapid melting took place. It would be necessary to wait until some of the snow was cleared from the trail by wind or melting before they could travel with the speed necessary. Their location at the southerly end of the Wind River range placed them a long days travel from South . Once there they would be on the eastwest trail used for years by the trappers and traders to reach the northern and western fur trade areas. The previous year it had served as the trail for the first wagon-train of settlers bound for Oregon. At this time of year Old Jake was confident they would find traders eager to be the first to reach the trade hungry trappers and Indian tribes rich with a winter’s harvest of pelts. Although the beaver harvest was nearly gone. there were other pelts to be obtained. Fox, otter, weasel, bear, elk and buffalo to name a few.

The warmth of the robes in the early morning chill and the fatigue of the previous day continued to hold him in their grip. He relaxed and let his mind wander over previous trips in these mountains. He particularly ed the rendezvous in 1834 on the Ham’s Fork when he had first realized that the days of beaver trapping were numbered. He had trapped that season on the southern tip of the eastern side of this range of mountains. He had gone out that year with two others, a French Canadian by the name of Jacques Cerdan and a former Kentuckian named Hoss Blakesley. All of them were free trappers, a status that Old Jake fiercely maintained.

The three trappers had located in a beautiful area on the upper reaches of the Beaver Creek just north of South late in the autumn to permit them to avoid Indians. A number of tribes favored the valley on the lower part of the creek as a summer camp. This late in the season the Indians had gone into winter camp. The trio had planned to move north to a neighboring stream called the Little Popo Agie at the end of the winter to avoid returning villages.

Their plan had worked as expected, and they came out of the Little Popo Agie valley in early June with over 200 prime plews each. They also emerged with an extreme dislike for each other. The confinement of a long winter had heightened each and every fault and annoying habit of all of them. The carelessness, lack of cleanliness, personal habits, laziness and constant complaints of the other two had caused Old Jake to want to strangle them more than once. It was a feeling he had to surpress. He was also thoroughly tired of a steady diet of beaver tail and rabbit.

When they had ridden out of the valley for the last time, Old Jake had vowed that he would never again become a partner with others on a hunt. For him free trapper had meant that he was free of partners, even if it meant that he would be more vulnerable to death at the hand of Indians. He had kept that promise at the expense of becoming more reclusive and remote from his fellowmen. He grinned to himself now as he thought about it. He didn’t regret his decision in the least. He had known a freedom few others would ever know. They had ridden north at a slower pace than usual, making sure they avoided any with Indians. The three trappers had approached the appointed place in mid-June expecting to be early for any traders to be present at the rendezvous. Instead, they were met by the sight of smoke and dust from an already sizeable horse herd representing a large camp. They had been surprised to find the Rocky Mountain Fur Company trappers already in camp, and Bill Sublette’s pack train of trade goods in place doing business for that company. The rendezvous in past years had started at least two weeks later in early July. Old Jake was to find that there were ominous reasons for the difference.

The partners had selected their campsite by the river with an eye toward wood, shelter and grass for the horses and mules. It had always been one of the advantages of arriving early that you could choose a good site. This time they were forced to camp farther out because of the press of people already there.

Fur company trappers had continued to arrive for another week, and had banded together in larger camps. Old Gabe Bridger had brought in his troop, and Fontenelle had followed a short time later with his trappers. All of them had had a disappointing season with few beaver pelts to show for their work. Their poor season did not, however, keep them from ing the bragging, brawling and drunken celebration that had been underway when Old Jake arrived. American Fur Company, Rocky Mountain Fur Company and Hudson Bay trappers all contributed to the festivities as they settled in for the annual celebration. The presence of the traders with their whiskey added not only to the celebrating, but to the violence that invariable followed. Old Jake had sighed and decided that it would be another grand, rowdy party.

“Funny,” he thought now, “them ronnyvoos were a lot like the fairs my Pap took me to back in Virginny. Only ronnyvoos is a lot rowdier and meaner. But in a sense the rendezvous had served the same purpose as trading fairs back east. Only the participants had changed.

The festivities had started slowly with mostly yarnin’, braggin’ and speculating about which of the Companies would give the best prices for their goods. But there had been an underlying tension throughout the camp. It was heightened by the arrival of Wyeth and his pack train when it became known that he had a contract with Rocky Mountain Fur that was going to be forfeited by Tom Fitzpatrick in favor of Sublette’s group. There was some talk that Bill Sublette had pushed it on him in an effort to break Wyeth, other talk that Sublette knew they wouldn’t need all the trade goods with the short beaver harvest. All of the conniving, and on top of that Wyeth had brought along two preachers who walked around with disapproving eyes at the goings on.

Whatever the cause, Old Jake had not liked the smell of things. He and his two partners had been among the very few who were lucky enough to have brought in a full catch. The others had a disappointingly small catch, and there was a lot of talk about the scarcity of beaver all over these mountains. Not only that, but the price of beaver had gone down to $2.50 a pound. It was a tough year to eke out enough supplies. Something was said about them British and French dandies wearing silk hats. Imagine that! Silk! But in the end he had come to realize that the big days of beaver were over. He knew the “shinin’” days of beaver were done, and he had to do other things.

Despite all of the problems floating around, he had enjoyed this, the last of the great ronnyvoos. The Indians swept into camp with all their splendor. The braves were all decked out in their finery galloped into camp with shrill cries and exhibitions of their prowess and horsemanship. They were followed by the hordes of squaws, children and pack animals. Finally, the horse herds were driven in. Right through camp. That always made the trappers swear and yell about the dust, but it sure served the purpose of showing off what they had to trade. After all of the showing off, camp was made with each tribe holding an area. There were Shoshonis, Nez Perces, Flatheads, Bannocks, Crows and Sioux, and invariably they set up neat, orderly camps. Much cleaner and better organized than the trappers who tended to be lazy, careless and dirty about such things. Old Jake liked the Indian ways and tried to copy those things that fit his needs.

“Funny,” he had thought at the time, “a coupl a days ago them red niggers woulda bin after my scalp, an’ Ah woulda’ kilt ’em on sight. Now hyar we ar sittin’ down together like ole time frens.” No matter. They were an important part of these. They were the clothiers with their fine buckskins. They were the shoemakers with their mocassins. They were the food suppliers and the prime source of horses to be traded. On the darker side of life they supplied numerous squaws for the sexual exploits of the trappers, and sometimes wives. And last but not least, they were customers for all the goods brought west. Yep. Both groups needed each other in these days. Besides Old Jake kinda’ liked them until they got likkered up. Like that woman and kid over there in the robes. Seemed to be pretty good people if you could get to know them.

Old Jake had done his trading and then packed up to head south into the mountains between the Green and Colorado Rivers. He had heard that Sublette and “Old Gabe” Bridger were heading for Blackfoot country with companies of trappers after forming a new fur company. They had successfully broken the Rocky Mountain Fur Company and discredited Milton, Bill Sublette’s brother. Old Jake had decided he didn’t want any part of these groups, even if it was rumored that there were still plenty of beaver in the Blackfoot country. He had not gone back to any of the later rendezvous. Rather he had sold his furs and bought supplies from groups going to and from the gatherings or one of the forts that had been built in the area. Why, he had heard from one of these traders that even Old Gabe was going to quit trapping and build a fort down near the Muddy River.

Well, he had laid around in the robes long enough. It was time to get started on the day’s chores. He noticed that it was full day now, and he felt a bit guilty about staying in the robes so long. Old Jake noticed something else. The fire was going and venison was being roasted. He had intended to have roasted liver and heart for breakfast. Deer Woman’s religious upbringing, however, required that the heart be placed in the open as a sacrifice to the Great Spirit, who had brought the deer to them. This she had done. The liver was not a highly regarded cut of meat in her family, and was eaten only in times of great need. The trapper was not aware of these niceties but felt there was enough meat that an argument was unnecessary in view of the results. Her other activity had been to assemble a crude smoking rack of green branches to fill it with strips of meat from the deer. He was very pleased. Then his conscience caught up as he saw the hobbling motion caused by each move she was required to perform.

He rose quickly, stripped off the buckskin shirt that hung to his knees and went out into the nearly knee deep snow. Grabbing hands full of snow, he rubbed his torso briskly to make up for the bathing that had not been possible during the past three days. Deer Woman stared with eyes wide in wonder. When he had completed the makeshift bath, he returned to the fire and rubbed himself briskly to restore the circulation before putting his shirt back on.

“Truly beyond belief’, thought Deer Woman, “that a man should be as concerned about bathing as the women of her family tribe”. Even more amazing was the man’s ritual of taking a small stick that he had shredded and softened with his teeth to rub his teeth and gums vigorously for several minutes. Maybe not crazy, but certainly strange in his ways. Had Old Jake known her thoughts, he would have smiled because those fellow trappers who knew him and his habits felt much the same.

Personal tasks completed, he turned to the work that must be done today. He directed the woman to her robes, and again examined her feet. Bad, but considerably better than the previous night. He again cleared away the blood and reapplied his favorite bear grease treatment. He then went to the pack robes and began cutting pieces suitable for repairing the moccasin. They would just have to be more efficient in packing to make use of smaller covers. He took the pieces to Deer Woman and explained to her that she was to repair the moccasins in the form of the double soled version used by the Northern tribes in winter. She quickly grasped the instructions and took the proffered knife and awl to begin the work. Old Jake returned to the task of food.

His first task was to complete the cooking of the meal. That done, he gave a portion to the woman and child. He next left the shelter and checked the mules. He went to each animal and ran his hands over it. They were still in good shape having spent the night in the lee of the pines to which they were tethered. They had already begun digging through the snow to the dried forage underneath, and they could make it another day.

Old Jake spent the remainder of the day smoking and preparing the meat of the young buck. He would save one of the haunches for their immediate needs. The rest he would smoke and dry in strips over the fire. There was not enough time to do it properly, but it would have to do. The supply of parched corn was now quite low. On the bright side, warm weather following the storm would result in the moisture needed for new growth. The green plants of the mountains would

improve their diet in the future.

Periodically throughout the day the trapper resumed work on the English lessons, or at least his version of English. It was difficult going. Word sounds did not lend themselves to Deer Woman’s tongue. Sentences assumed impossible proportions. He did observe that once the word was associated with an article, she was quick to pick it up and its name. It was during one of these sessions that he learned a bit more about the woman and boy by use of a combination of the words she had learned and sign language. She told him she had been captured five years earlier by a Crow war party while her people had been on their summer buffalo hunt to the North. The hunt had been successful, and she and several other women had been left behind by the hunters as they chased the fleeing herd. While they were gone, the Crow warriors had emerged from a draw and captured them all. The older women who were unable to keep up in the flight of the warriors were killed. Deer Woman and two others survived but the other two died the following winter of beatings and mistreatment. The next summer she had been taken as junior wife of the warrior who had captured her. He was the one Old Jake had killed. Now she wished to return to her people.

“Who are your people?” queried Old Jake.

“Our People”, she replied. Now the going got tough. The trapper knew many tribes considered themselves “The People”. The chosen ones. Superior to all others. But which ones? He learned they were from the east and south. East of the mountains. By the process of eliminating the Comanche, Kiowa and Cheyenne he decided they must be Arapahoe, a tribe about which he knew little except that they lived on the plains just east of the Rocky Mountains. They hunted these plains from south of the Arkansas River to the North Platte River. His only landmark on that expanse was the Bent Brother Fort near the location where the great Indian peace council of 1840 had been held. Old Jake knew it was a long trip from where they camped. Probably two months by the way she would have to travel. How she would get there he didn’t know. He was interested however, in the fort and the traders. The Bents had a reputation for

fairness to both Indians and whites in the fur trade.

“Yes, I know them,” signed Deer Woman.

“They live in great house of earth. My father respects these whites. Many times he trades buffalo skins for the things white men have.”

Well, maybe someday Old Jake could go there, but for now all he wanted to do was reach the traders on the South Trail, and obtain the necessities for the summer hunt.

By nightfall, the snow had nearly stopped. The wind, however, continued unabated. The trapper had completed most of his preparations. The meat that was not lightly smoked and dried had been frozen. The equipment and clothing repaired, and the furs repacked. The necessity to travel at night meant they would have to spend another day in camp. But he was also aware that another day would help the woman’s feet. At least they would be traveling in the right direction for her pilgrimage. Before crawling into his sleeping robe, he carefully, put out the fire. Without the covering snowfall, there would be no more fire until they were well away from their camp.

The next day dragged endlessly. The sun had risen on a bright clear day. The snow began melting rapidly aided by a warm southerly breeze. Old Jake was restless and irritable, anxious to be on the way. He repaired his own moccasins, checked Deer Woman’s feet, helped stuff her moccasins with grass and slept twice. Nothing helped. By the time the sun was a palm width above the tops of the western mountains, he was packed and ready to move down the rocky, snow covered slope below the ledge. Finally the time came, and Old Jake led the party cautiously over the rim and onto the slope. A fall resulting in injury or broken limbs would be a disaster. Big Jake however, was as impatient to leave the

confinement of the ledge as anyone, and tugged at the lead rope. The jennies, following Big Jake’s lead, pulled Deer Woman who was following the man off her feet and into the rocks at one point. The two jennies stopped immediately and waited while she regained her feet. She was bruised but not seriously hurt. Big Jake had forced the pace down the slope. Ignoring the problem behind him he had continued down the slope nearly dragging Old Jake along. Realizing that the jennies would now try to catch up, Deer Woman grabbed Janet’s short mane tightly and hung on. Half dragged, half stumbling she was quickly carried to the bottom of the slope by the sure footed mule.

Shaken, but intact the little party regrouped. Reassured that there were no injuries, Old Jake set off at a brisk walk toward the ancient hunters trail leading southward to the South . They had no trouble finding the trail. The sliver of moon that had guided them earlier had become a full moon. The night was bathed in silver light. The trail he entered would lead them on a curving route around the lower part of the southern tip of the Wind River Range. It was longer, but quicker and easier than a straight line. The origin of this smaller trail was unknown but used by the trapper and Indian alike. Since it was used by Indians, he wanted to be safely off of it by full light. And he knew where he wanted to be.

The trapper once again adopted the alternating long-legged walk and around eating lope or their previous journey. He had, however, learned something from that earlier experience. He now stopped for a brief rest each hour and checked the mules, then checked Deer Woman. He paid particular attention to her feet. Each time she objected with bits of her new found, but very sketchy, English.

“No—I go.” But still Old Jake stopped. By the sixth stop, the pace was beginning to tell. With moccasins soaked through by the snow and melt water on the trail, his feet were beginning feel the effects of the chaffing and he knew Deer Woman’s feet must be getting in bad shape. He had noticed she was beginning to stumble and had once in the past hour gone to her knees. He took the boy and tied him to the pack on Janet, the lead jenny. He then took the

woman by the arm and lifted her to the pack on Big Jake. He would have to trust in the big mules strength to overcome the handicap of being badly overloaded.

When he set off again, he no longer held back on the pace. He set out at a lope, only now he didn’t stop. At the end of an hour the muscles in his legs and chest felt like they were being touched with fire. After the second hour, Big Jake was slowing, and it became increasingly painful to urge him on with the lead rope. Old Jake’s arm felt leaden and the pain was severe. After three hours, the pain was excruciating. His legs felt like knotted, dried rawhide but reacted like wet rawhide. His loping stride had become a shambling run. His chest was clamped tightly in a red hot vise and his arms were leaden and numb. But he had won. In the last of the moonlight he could see the intended goal. Another mile and they would reach the cover he sought. It took them nearly an hour to reach the roughly 40 acre patch of scrub and tall sagebrush on the southeast slope bordering the area near a spring that was to become known as Pacific Springs. These Springs were actually several miles southwest of South , but they were the only source of cover and water near the itself. By now Old Jake was staggering and Big Jake was on the verge of rebellion.

The little group dived into the sagebrush and scrub cedar like a rabbit into a burrow. The trapper moved to the southeast portion of the brush farthest from the Springs. They would be separated far enough from the trail to be hard to detect by ing, unfriendly travelers. Old Jake had selected a spot with numerous small openings in the brush that would provide forage for the mules. He began staggering around to unload and care for the animals. Her strength was renewed by the three hour ride, Deer Woman dismounted, pushed the man aside and began the chore. No care was taken to maintain order. The packs were dropped where the mules stood and sleeping robes rolled out. Old Jake did rise to gather handfuls of grass, and rub Big Jake down. The mule endured the care with patience. The woman gave similar but more rudimentary care to the two jennies. When the mules had been tethered, the travelers wolfed a handful of dried venison and rolled into the sleeping robes. Old Jake was too tired to notice that the woman’s robes were placed next to his. They were not to be separated again during the many days of the long journey to come.

Chapter 5

The trapper awoke to bright sunlight. He had over-slept. When he tried to get up he found, he was stiff and sore from toes to eyebrows. He made his way to the edge of the brush, and looked out over the broad expanse of mountain and rolling hills. Just a few yards from him and upwind, a doe and her fawn nibbled at the sparse grass unaware of his presence. Nothing else moved, either along the trail he scanned toward the east, or in the surrounding hills. If they did not anyone during the day, they would move eastward toward the Sweetwater River to the east of the itself. Only this time, they would not be pushed as they were on the previous night.

He returned to camp satisfied that they were safe for the time being and shared a cold meal with Deer Woman and the boy. He decided that it was time to call the child something other than “boy”. g and pointing to the boy he said,

“Name?”

The woman understood and signed back while repeating a name. The Arapahoe words meant nothing to him, but the signs seemed to say Little Bear, or Small Bear. When Old Jake said:

“Little Bear,” and the response came back:

“Rittl Burr?”

He decided quickly that he needed a simpler solution, and pointing to the boy declared.

“Cub”

Deer Woman shook her head vigorously, and repeated the Arapahoe name. Once more he pointed at Small Bear, or whatever the name was, and firmly announced:

“Cub” and promptly signed that the discussion was over. She cast her eyes to the ground as a sign of submission but her disagreement and disapproval were obvious. Cub it was.

Old Jake decided to spend the day resting and watching the trail. The presence of the spring and surrounding cover made the general area a favorite camping spot for both white travelers and Indians. The arrival of Indians night present a problem, and it would be necessary to try to slip out of the brush on the point farthest from the campsite by the spring during the night. If the travelers were white, he would attempt trade for necessary items. He couldn’t know that this year would be a busy one for this trail. More than 200 settlers would this point on their way to Oregon later in the summer in addition to the itinerant traders using the trail.

The other activity of the day involved getting acquainted with Cub, a matter he had neglected before. He started by calling the boy’s new name and gesturing for him to follow him in the chore of caring for the mules. At first Cub was shy and hesitant, but with Deer Woman’s encouragement and the best semblance of a friendly smile that Old Jake could muster, he manfully followed behind the

trapper. Big Jake nuzzled him curiously, picked at the small fringes on his buckskin shirt, and then ignored him while continuing to forage for the sparse dried grass. While Old Jake performed his rough grooming of the mules with dried grass and hands full of small pine branches, he gave some to Cub and motioned for him to do the same. The boy caught on quickly, but his efforts were clumsy and not particularly effective. This was to be expected, except by Old Jake, who had been too long by himself, and away from children. Fortunately, Big Jake simply ignored him even when his efforts to rub his legs to an extent close to sensitive withers and tail. Cub thoroughly enjoyed the man’s attention, and his opportunity to mimic the work of the man, and marched about the camp proudly.

Later in the day, Old Jake was to wonder if he had opened the Pandora’s Box that he ed from the story his mother had told him so many years before. Everywhere he went, Cub followed. He was delighted to be released from the discipline and silence of the trail. Whatever the trapper did in the camp or picked up, he watched curiously or tried to imitate. The trapper did not mind. He had noted the boys quick mind, cheerful nature and disciplined behavior. He would do to travel with in future years. He did not, for example, follow Old Jake as he went to keep watch on the trail and surrounding area. A word from Deer Woman had stopped him, and he didn’t try a second time. By afternoon he had tired to the point where he went to sleep on the pack robes. Old Jake spent the time exchanging English words with Deer Woman, and intermittently dozing while he watched the trail.

It was one of these periods between dozing that he ed another trip he had taken from a rendezvous. It must have been the one at Pierre’s Hole over on the Snake in 1832. He had left early with half dozen other free trappers heading south into the country around the Colorado River to hunt and scout out a spot to conduct the fall beaver trapping. The others had their Ute wives and half breed kids with them, and a few of the wive’s relatives had tagged along. The trappers and their companions had missed the big fight that took place with the Gros Ventres that year, and when Jake heard about it the following year, he didn’t regret missing it.

The little party had traveled south along the west slope of the mountains at a leisurely pace. It was mid-summer, and there was no hurry. Old Jake had enjoyed the company, having only come to this country a couple of years before and still not fully adjusted to the long periods of being alone that he would enjoy so much in later years. When they reached the south tip of the range they had been paralleling, they turned southeastward on their way to the valley of the Bear River. They had traveled for about two days when they came to a stream within sight of an unusual mountain formation in the middle of the dry, rolling hills they had been traversing. It was decided that they would camp here for a couple of days, and replenish their supply of meat and water and grass for the horses before heading into the near desert to the south of them on their way to the Bear.

It was on the first morning that he had sought the leader of the trappers and asked,

“Hey, Pete, what’s in them rocks over there? They look kinda funny. Almost like one 0’ them fancy pipe organs Ah saw in one 0’ them fancy churches in Virginny.”

“Don’t rightly know, Jake. Injuns kinda shy away from ’em. Don’t talk much about ’em. Lemme ask my squaw. Hey Agnes, git over here.” he shouted. “Never can her fool Injun name.” The discussion that took place became more heated and animated with each minute. Finally, Pete turned back to Old Jake, and said:

“Well, Jake, as best Ah kin figger it, its some sorta sacred place. It belonged to somebody they call the Ancient Ones. Some sorta ramblin’ bout messages left on the rocks up there. Only the old men go up there to have visions or some such nonsense. “Old Jake had made up his mind quickly, and asked:

“Spose some 0’ them Injuns’d show me the place. Kinda like to see thet.” “Well ever’ man has to waste his time his own way, but Ah’ll ask.” The second discussion had taken as long as the first, but two of the Ute warriors had finally agreed to show Old Jake the way.

“By the way,” Pete had shouted as they rode from camp, “You still hafta bring in yer own share ‘0 meat.”

“Don’t worry, Ah’ll take care ‘0 my share,” Old Jake had shouted back.

He and the two Indians had ridden for nearly two hours to reach the base of the sharply cut rock formation. The distance was only about ten miles, but the route was cut with ravines and bluffs that made it necessary to detour frequently. When he dismounted and looked around, the Indians pointed and motioned for him to go up the side of the rocks to a narrow opening, but made no move to follow. He had tied his horse to a scrub cedar, and taking his weapons with him, he had started up the loose rock slope to the rock towers above him. When he had reached the cut in the rocks a good half hour later he had looked back down the rock slope, and was reassured to see the two Indians sitting their horses and peering intently up at him.

He had walked cautiously into the opening, peering at the rock walls around him searching for the “messages” he had heard about. For a short distance he hadn’t seen anything, and then he thought he saw it. Faint white and yellow paint marks. They hadn’t really been recognizable as anything. Just marks. He followed the faint trail he had found when he entered the rocks a bit further, and came to a large cave-like hollow in the rocks. When he had entered the hollow, he was amazed to find the walls covered with pictures and symbols of all types. The pictures of men and animals hadn’t impressed him much. They had looked a lot like the stick figures he had made for his kids years ago, and the symbols in

the form of dots, circles and patterns made of lines had meant nothing to him. Somehow though, he had known an awe and wonder at the significance of it all.

As he stood musing and wondering about who the people were who had done this work, he had become aware of a faint noise in the distance disturbing his reverie. The noise had resolved itself into the sound of hoof beats, and with it the realization that they could only come from the horses of his Indian companions. He had rushed from the hollow in the rocks and back to the point at the top of the rock slope and been greeted by the sight of dust from the Indian horses retreating back in the direction they had come. Not only that, but he had been unable to see his own horse. When he got back to the bottom of the rock slope he had confirmed that the Indians had taken off with his horse.

It had taken Old Jake the rest of the day to make his way back to the camp by following the horse’s tracks, and he was hot, tired and mad as an overturned hive full of bees when he walked in. Pete greeted him with:

“Hey there Jake, you look a mite wore out. Glad to see you got back. Them fool Injuns said you got took up by some mighty spirit, an’ you wasn’t comin’ back.” “Weren’t thar fault thet Ah did either. Whut’s the matter with them idjits anyways?”

“Well, they claimed that you was a goner, but you never kin tell. They mighta jest bin after yer hoss. We was fixin’ to come after you in the mornin’ if you weren’t back tonight. Didja see what you was lookin’ for?”

“Yep, some.” and the matter had ended there.

Now, he wished that he had the time to ride down and finish looking around. It had been a downright interesting place, but he knew it wouldn’t happen. With the woman and the kid, and the lack of supplies, there were just too many things to take care of to do anything like that this time. Well, maybe another time.

By mid-afternoon Old Jake’s searching eyes were repaid. He detected a small cloud of dust in the direction of South . After watching for nearly a palm width of movement by the sun he decided the dust was definitely moving toward the spring. It was time to get prepared. He returned to camp and explained to Deer Woman the presence of the dust. He also explained what he intended.

“If it’s Indians, hide—then run. If it’s whites—trade. But both very carefully.” They packed quickly and moved to the edge of the trees above the location where camp. Of the traders was expected to be made near the spring. As they waited it became clear that the approaching travelers were most likely white traders. The presence of a wagon in the group confirmed that fact, and as the group neared, he verified the presence of three riders and a string of pack horses. Traders.

He was not totally lulled into a sense of security. There were plenty of brigands and cutthroats on the trails and at the trading camps. He would proceed cautiously, as he always had. After all, it had let him keep his hair longer than most. As the traders approached, he studied them carefully from the cover of the trees with Deer Woman and the mules just behind him. The lead rider was tall, black bearded, and sat astride a spirited stallion that revealed a vanity on the part of the rider that did not bode well. The second rider was neither as well mounted, nor as imposing in dress and stature. In fact, both he and the individual driving the wagon were downright slovenly. Both slouched loosely on their respective seats, indicating either fatigue or the effects of some of the cheap trade whisky they were undoubtedly carrying. The one astride the horse was medium height with unkempt red hair, and matched only in coating ofdirt and grease by the fat, light haired man sprawled on the wagon seat.

Old Jake was worried. The combination of vanity and stupid, drunkeness were dangerous in this country. He continued to watch as they stopped and prepared to make camp. They were as careless and sloppy in this chore as they were in appearance. Except the leader, who spent most of his time taking care of the stud and walking around the campsite. Old Jake continued to worry, he had seen these traders before. But where? What was it about them that bothered him? His tension was transmitted to Deer Woman who reflected it by a stiffening of her body and the appearance of preparing for flight.

Old Jake waited and noted that all three traders were now sampling the trade whiskey. Despite his worry, he decided he must try to trade for necessary supplies. g Deer Woman to stay at the edge of the trees, he stepped into the open and advanced to about 50 paces from the camp. He was now about 20 paces from the protective timber on his left. He hailed the camp, and the three men scrambled for their guns.

“Wal. Whut hev we here”, drawled black beard. “Yuh look lak a trapper. Come on in to camp, and have a cup.”

Old Jake advanced to within 30 yards still keeping the dense brush on his left shoulder. He stopped with his Hawken cradled in his arm and ready.

“Thank yuh, but all I need is to trade for a bit of powder and lead,” replied the trapper.

“Well now, whut hev ye got to trade, friend?” Again black beard. The two half drunk helpers were grinning broadly in anticipation.

“Beaver,” replied the trapper. “How much fer lead and powder?”

“Come on in, and hev a drink. We kin palaver on it,” again from black beard.

“Thank ye, but I jist aim to trade. Tell me how much ye want.”

“Well, friend, considerin thet yuh look to hev just come off the mountain, and the fact that we’re the fust over, we’ll make yuh a good deal. We got the best Galena and powder around, that will be four beaver to the pound of Galena and the same for powder. Take it or leave it. How much yuh need?” Old Jake was shocked. With the decline in beaver trade, the exchange rate had gone up in the past few years to reflect the decrease in value of the pelts, but it had been one to two pelts per pound the previous summer when he had traded. At the rate stated, he could not even buy the 20 pounds of lead and 20 pounds of powder he felt he needed with the beaver he had. This was outright robbery! He started to protest but was interrupted by the redhead who had moved to the left of camp, and to Old Jakes’ right. He had also remounted his horse.

“Whooee, Jawn, this dirty son has got his self a woman back in them trees. A squaw. And we ain’t seed a woman in six weeks”. Old Jake froze. He knew they were in trouble.

“Wal, now. Thet do make things different” replied black beard, and after a moment he said, “Tell yuh whut, We’ll take the squaw and give yuh10 pounds of lead and 10 pounds of powder.” Old Jake may have been shocked into immobility, but now with his free hand, he motioned Deer Woman further back into the trees. He had ed where he had seen the trio. It was at one of the so-called rendezvous that took place after the last big one in ’34. Probably ’36, The trio had been there with their trade goods, and a few squaws they had bought or traded for whiskey. Old Jake had been sickened by the treatment given

the women. When not being used to satisfy their own perverted sexual desires, they were either beaten, mutilated or sold to drunken whites and Indians alike. Even the more hardened trappers who had been at several of the wildest rendezvous-ronnnyvoos to the Americans—had nothing but contempt for the three. Now Old Jake knew what had bothered him, and also knew he had big trouble. He also knew he could not turn any woman over to these animals, even a squaw. “Sorry boys. The womans not for sale. We either talk beaver, or Ah’ll be on my way.”

Black beard was quick to answer, and his anger began to show, “Wal, now we see it different. We git the squaw or we take care of yuh, and take the beaver and the squaw.” Before Old Jake could say anything more, he saw redhead begin to move his horse toward the trees, while yelling, “Jawn, the squaws gittin away, We gotta do sumpin”. As Old Jake turned, and lunged for the trees, he saw “Jawn” reaching for a pistol in his belt. Might know a vain man would be carrying a pistol. He had almost reached the trees when he felt a massive fist hit him in the left side of the back. His left side felt numb, and his arm wasn’t working right, but he summoned all the strength he had, and whirled to fire at redhead and the horse now moving toward the spot where Deer Woman had been. The grey haze in his head, and the numbed arm did not help his aim. The ball struck the redhead in the leg, and ed through into the chest of the horse at about twice the size it entered the man’s leg. The horse screamed, reared and twisted as it fell pinning the man’s left leg underneath. The entire time, the red head was screaming,

“Ah’m shot! Ah’m shot! Ah’m gonna die! Hep me!’ Old Jake’s last glance around as he entered the trees showed black beard rapidly reloading the pistol and the wagon driver staring at the redhead and horse with a befuddled, drunken look on his face. He knew he had to reach Deer Woman and the mule or he would not make it. Summoning all of his will and strength he plunged on, but he did hear the screams of the wounded man and the voice of the teamster saying,

“Git im Jawn. Kill im.” And then John’s reply, in John.

“Naw. Thit’im, He’ll go to ground, and won’t be able to git up. Then I kin kill’ irn slow fer killin thet hoss.” Old Jake knew he was right. If he laid down to rest, he would stiffen up just like a wounded deer, and he would never get up. He had to find the mules. But where were they? He had to find them. The woman had left him. The waves of gray kept coming, and it was hard to concentrate. What had he told Deer Woman? Sweetwater. Yes, she must have gone there. He reached the edge of the trees and it was dusk, not just the waves of gray that threatened to turn black.

Chapter 6

Back at the trader’s camp, John and the teamster had managed to move the horse off of Tom, the redhead. They drug him to the fire, and laid him out while Zeb, the teamster went to fetch a cask of whiskey. When he returned, he noticed that John had placed a knife in the coals of the fire to heat. Zeb winced. Even in his half drunk state, he knew what was coming. He immediately began pouring whiskey down the wounded man’s throat. Whereas Tom had been groaning so loudly that they thought all the Indians west of the Mississippi could hear him, as the whiskey took effect he gradually sunk into a stupor, and finally ed out cold.

At that point, John grabbed the wounded leg and held it while Zeb poured whiskey into the holes on each side. The medicinal qualities of the whiskey were doubtful. Certainly there was enough grain alcohol in it, but the copious quantities of black twist tobacco, molasses, red pepper and river water gave it a questionable quality other than increasing the pain. With that treatment complete, John wrapped the handle of the knife in buckskin to avoid burning and then rapidly applied the heated blade to both sides of the wound. Despite his unconscious state, Tom writhed at the pain and groaned. The final touch came when Zeb tied one of Tom’s filthy shirts around the leg, and resumed his drinking.

John’s thoughts following his application of this marvel of medicinal skill were somewhat different. Foremost, he regretted the loss of the horse. As far as Tom was concerned, his only regret was that he would not be able to do his part of the work. Well, he would have to take care of himself, because he did not intend to put himself out to do it. If he didn’t, well, there were always others available to take his place. So much for loyal friends.

The trapper was another story. He had no desire to go into the trees looking for him now that darkness had fallen. Despite his wound, the trapper was still armed and dangerous. Oh well, he would get him in the morning. After all where could he go? Certainly, one squaw couldn’t do much for him. He was confident that he could catch up with him and kill him in the daylight. Then, the squaw was his.

Meanwhile, Old Jake had reached the crest of the low hill bordering the trees to the southeast. During his more lucid moments, he had picked up the hoof prints of the mules heading this way. The thought kept coming back that the Indian woman had lit out and left him. He was staggering badly now, and it was just a matter of time before he lapsed into unconsciousness. Beside the shock and pain he was now feeling he had lost a lot of blood first in the brush and trees and then climbing the slight slope. He resolved to give it one more effort, and called on his last reserves of strength. And then he saw her!

When Old Jake had entered the clearing to talk with the traders, Deer Woman had been both nervous and afraid. Her natural fear and distrust of white men had come forward with a force that made her feel ill. She had welcomed the alliance with the trapper, despite these feelings in the past day. He had shown her nothing but kindness and nothing in his manner or actions had indicated a desire to harm or molest her. Now, the fears were back with an intensity that clutched at her chest. She had sensed the menace and evil in the trader’s voices. Their appearance had reinforced her fear, and when Red Hair had mounted his horse to ride toward her spot in the trees, she had decided they must flee again. Red Hair’s shout of discovery had set her in motion. She inched further back into the brush, grabbed Big Jake’s lead rope, and started back toward camp.

She moved through the brush as fast as she could pull the mules. Big Jake was not too happy to be following the woman, but her tugging insistence kept him moving, and they reached the campsite and far edge of the brush just as the action began. Red Hair’s second shout and the gunfire panicked the woman and the mules. She almost lost her hold on the lead rope. What should she do? What had the trapper said? The river! To the east! She must go there. She plunged up

the slope and over the low hill. Near the base of the hill in a wash fed with spring runoff was a stand of aspen—leafless but at least some cover. She would wait here for the trapper. If he did not come soon, she would seek better cover to secrete the mules and Little Bear, and then carefully return to see what help she could give him. It would all have to be done before sunup to permit her to return to the hiding place. She would wait for darkness. She did not doubt that she could evade the white men. She had played enough hunter and hunted games in her childhood that she knew she would not have a problem avoiding the clumsy, dirty white traders. Then she saw him!

The trapper’s stumbling lunges punctuated by falls to the grassy slope quickly told her he was hurt. She quickly tied Big Jake’s lead rope to the nearest Aspen and ran back up the hill to the man. The waves of gray had begun to turn to black, and each occurrence resulted in his falls. He could see the woman only dimly through the haze that seemed to cloud his mind and eyes, but his heart was glad that she had waited to help.

As she drew near, the woman’s eyes grew large with alarm at the sight of the amount of blood Old Jake had lost. His entire left side was covered with it, and the wound still oozed a stream of fresh blood. She must get him to cover to tend the wound. She grabbed the rifle in his right hand, but had difficulty dislodging it from his grasp, so tightly held was it. Placing his right arm across her shoulder, and grasping his hand in her left hand, she began to move back down the slope. His weight was almost too much for her, but bent almost double, she was able to guide his stumbling steps to the mules. Cub whimpered at the sight of the blood on his new found friend, but Deer Woman silenced him with a sharp low voiced command.

She must find a way to stop the flow of blood before they could move. But, first, they would need to be able to defend themselves. She queried the man about the rifle. “Could it shoot?” “No.” With her insistence and help he reloaded the rifle with his good hand while she held it upright. It took longer than she liked, but at least they were as ready as they could get. She had not counted on the man’s

weakness. With the rifle loaded, he col1apsed in a heap where he had been leaning against a tree. Big Jake did not like the situation at all. The smell of blood and the man’s strange actions had caused him to move back and forth at the end of the rope. She would have to trust her strength to hold him when they moved. Deer Woman prepared a series of rawhide thongs from the packs. Taking the shirt that had been used for her feet and Big Jake’s wound, she crumpled it into a bunch, and pressed it into the wound. Taking the thongs, she wrapped several around the man’s chest to hold the shirt in place. She then took part of the thongs, and tied his left arm tightly to his chest in an effort to avoid further damage to the wound by the weight of the useless arm. Now, she had to get him up and moving. Unfortunately. he was too heavy for her to lift on the back of Big Jake as he had done for her. Taking his good arm, she dragged him to Big Jake’s side. By now the mule had calmed down to the point where he sniffed the man, but did not attempt to bolt. The mixture of familiar man and blood smells bothered him but his affection and loyalty for the man made him take a wait and see attitude. Once there, Deer Woman pushed the trapper into a sitting position, and began the process of trying to bring him back to consciousness. She massaged, slapped and softly cajoled him until his eyes opened. And he muttered a few words. She signed that he must get up. They must go. Dimly understanding, he struggled to no avail. The stiffening predicted by John the trader had indeed taken place, and his left side was almost useless. On hands and knees she forced herself under his right shoulder and began to lift him. Together they struggled to an upright position. She leaned him against Big Jake and placed his right hand and arm across the saddle. Moving to the other side of the mule, she lashed hand and arm to the leather of the saddle. It would be a painful trip. Cub had observed all of the preparations with bright eyes, and was very upset. He sensed the hurt, fear, and urgency, and began whimpering and squirming. Soothing words from his mother only lasted for a short time. Finally, her patience strained to its limits by her exertions to get Old Jake ready for travel, she snapped harshly and his Indian training that had begun on the day he was born caused him to lapse into obedience. He did, however, reach out and grasp the trapper’s buckskin shirt both to give himself comfort by his presence, and as a feeble gesture of help.

The little party moved off down the wash staying to the rocks as much as possible to avoid leaving a trail. The waves of black came to Old Jake again and again. Each time his legs gave way only to be jerked up and dragged by the

plodding mule. By the time they reached the bottom of the wash, his right arm felt as if it had been tom from its socket, and the wound hurt unbearably. Deer Woman did not stop. She knew that the trapper would die at the hands of the traders if they stayed where they were. If he died on the way, he would not suffer the shame of a helpless death at the hands of a cruel enemy. At the bottom of the wash she turned right toward the south east, and followed a similar wash around the base of the hill facing them. The wash lead her back to an easterly course along a slope covered with scrub cedar and sagebrush. Again this night a bright moon gave the light necessary to guide their way. At a point where she would leave no trail, she would seek a hiding spot on the gentle slope. The trapper could go no further. He had begun to mumble in delirium, and his gait was entirely mechanical based on impulses from the mule. She found the spot a few paces further on. It started with a layer of shale leading off the wash into the sagebrush and cedar which extended to heights above her head on this sheltered northeasterly slope of the hill. Not good, but it would have to do. She moved across the bare, shale outcrop and found a spot near the top where the scrub cedar and sagebrush were higher than Big Jake’s head. She carefully selected a hiding spot. It would require a good tracker to find them here. How good were the traders? She didn’t know. She would have to chance it.

Old Jake was slumped against the mule, completely oblivious to anything going on. Deer Woman could not undo the knots in the thongs securing his right arm. She was force to get the trapper’s knife, and cut the thongs. He immediately slumped to the ground, and lay unmoving. She quickly dumped the packs and saddles to the ground, and tethered the mules to brush in locations where they could reach the scant forage between sage and cedar. She spread the sleeping robes, and tried to carefully move Old Jake into them. Even this amount of movement caused him to groan and gasp and thrash out in pain. But she persisted, and finally stretched him out in the robes. She placed Cub on his right side with a onition to take care of the trapper, which he took with manful seriousness, and she moved to his wound. She undid the bindings and the impromptu bandage. The wound was awesome. The 36 caliber bullet had entered the man’s back, and hit a rib at an angle. The soft lead ball had been expanded and deflected, tearing through flesh and muscle as it exited. While the vanity of the trader in using the smaller caliber pistol had resulted in an inability to penetrate the chest cavity, the wound was indeed serious. The subsequent travel had made it even worse.

Using water from one of the bags, she washed the wound, scrubbing hard enough to cause bleeding at both entry and exit points. The exit side of the wound had been torn to almost the size of her palm. Once again, she covered and bound the wound. She could do no more. Grasping his hand and arm tightly to her to avoid movement, she lay down next to him, and slept.

Deer Woman awoke to the restless stirring and incoherent mumblings of the trapper. She also had a strange feeling of foreboding. Then she heard it. A horse was approaching down the rocky wash they had traveled the night before. She moved carefully away from the trapper to avoid alarming him, and stood up. She picked up the Hawken from the pack where she had placed it the night before, and moved to a spot overlooking the shale slope and the wash. There she stretched out on her stomach with the rifle before her, the trappers tomahawk at her side and waited. What should she do if the trapper followed their trail across the shale slope? How was it the gun should be used? It was a long time since the young braves had bragged about their knowledge of these things in her home village. Oh, yes. The funny hook on the side must be pulled back. Then, when you pulled the little prong on the bottom, the fire rushed forth and destroyed the thing at which you had pointed the tube. She did not realize that she was fortunate in the trappers choice of weapons. The Hawken employed one of the new cap mechanisms. In his semi-conscious state the night before, he had crimped a cap to keep it in place, and forced it on the nipple. If the woman did as she planned, it would indeed fire rather than requiring priming first as an older flintlock would.

As she watched, the first thing she saw was the wide brimmed hat worn by John moving down the tops of the sage and cedar lining the wash. As it drew nearer, more and more of the man appeared until the top half of his torso was visible. She slowly moved the rifle until the tube was pointed in the general direction of the hat. But the trader was having trouble with the stud. The animal did not want to travel on the rocks of the wash. The horse fought the bit, and twisted from side to side trying to escape the confining wash and rocks. When the horse reached the sandstone slope, John, however, was sure he was on the trail in the

wash, and, after much swearing and yanking on the reins, forced the stud on down the draw. By that time, all traces of Deer Woman’s exit from the wash had been obliterated. She watched for another hour after which the horse and rider appeared moving rapidly back the way they had come. They had given up trying to follow the trail.

John had awakened that morning to find and kill the trapper that had made a fool out of him. He demanded bacon, hard biscuits and coffee from Zeb who was shuffling around a fire he had made in preparation for breakfast. Once John had gulped down the half-cooked, greasy bacon and biscuits, and drunk the brew that ed for coffee, he began to make preparations for the hunt. Zeb began to whine,

“Ye cain’t leave me alone Whut heppens ifu’ the injuns cum? I be the only rifle here. They cud kill me and take evrthin. We got tuh stik together.”

“Shet up ye yeller scum. This won’t take no time. Ah’ll be back in less’n two hours. Swear.” And with that he rode into the brush first to search there and then to follow the tracks across the hill into the wash. He did come back, but in a foul mood that he took out on the hapless partners. In the process, he vowed that there would be another time. For now, he must take care of himself, his goods and, coincidently, the two numbskull drunks he had to put up with.

Chapter 7

Deer Woman returned to the meager camp, and began the preparations she knew were needed. They would have to move to a more secure spot. One near water where Old Jake could be tended properly. Besides, any good Indian tracker could have followed them, and discovered their hiding spot without hesitation. They must do better in Crow country.

This time she tended Old Jake’s wound first. She found that it needed more attention than she could give it here. She rearranged and retied the bandage noting that the wound had turned a nasty red color. His face was flushed and hot to her touch. Fever. She needed herbs for medicine and maybe a sweat lodge. And time. She prepared breakfast by mashing a mixture of parched corn and smoked venison in cold water. When the mixture had achieved a soupy consistency, she poured as much of the semi liquid down Old Jake’s throat as she could. Half choking, sometimes swallowing, she managed to get some of the food to stay down. That task finished, she fed Cub, ate some of the food herself, and set about the next chore. The packs were carefully remade. Weighing the hides, pouches and equipment carefully, she divided everything carefully into two packs. Too big. The jennys would not be able to carry them far. She resorted the pelts, and set aside the lower grade furs. She had reduced the load by less then one third, but it was enough. The two mules could now carry the packs, although they would be overloaded. She took the discarded furs, and buried them in a shallow hole behind one of the more prominent cedar. She then gathered stones, and completely covered the spot to discourage marauding coyotes. When the trapper was well enough to travel, they would return and retrieve the furs. If the man did not live, she would not need the furs.

Deer Woman spent the remainder of the day arranging and rearranging the packs, and working with Big Jake. She spent at least half of her time rubbing her hands over the mule, and alternately scolding and praising him in the same low

voice. She had seen the young warriors use this procedure to make their war ponies thoroughly familiar with the closeness of a human. In this case, she also had to familiarize him with her smell and Indian-ness. She would need the big mule’s full cooperation and trust in her guidance. Her other task was to use as much of the camp material as she could find to fashion a carrying sling for Cub. The two jennys were already overloaded, and Big Jake would now be overloaded by the bulk of the trapper that would undoubtedly prove to be an uncooperative burden. She must carry the boy. Her plans were made.

When the sun approached the rim of the western hills, she fed each of the small party more of the cold, mashed venison and corn soup, and then loaded the jennys. She moved Big Jake close to the trapper and close tied him to a cedar. She struggled to drag his limp body to the desired position beside the mule. Sixteen hands! It was almost as much as she could reach. Propping Old Jake into a sitting position, she positioned her slight body under his shoulder, and struggled to get him into an upright stance. He did not regain consciousness, and remained a limp mass.

Three times she raised him to a propped position against the mule, and tried to quickly move to push his torso over the low saddle. Each time the man’s limp body collapsed back at the feet of the mule. The third time it happened, she was sobbing from fatigue and frustration. Cub’s efforts to help amounted to scrambling about their feet, and pushing and tugging at the man’s buckskins. After a short rest she knew she must push the mule’s limits of patience and trust even further. Taking two stout rawhide thongs, she once again tied them to the man’s right arm and shoulder, and looped them over the opposite side of the mule. She gave the ends of the thongs to Cub, and instructed him on the importance of keeping the tightly held rawhide close to her side, and held taut. That done, she started the process of raising the man again; this time ensuring that his right arm proceeded over the mule first, and was held tight by the thongs to keep his body upright. Once he was held in a leaning position against the mule, she tightened the ends of the thongs around her waist to avoid having them pulled away from her. She began alternately pushing him upward and tightening the thongs. Once she had his upper body over the saddle, she wrapped the thongs over his body to hold it in place. The next step was to position him on the mules

back and saddle on his stomach as comfortably as the position would permit. That was not much, even though the saddle had a low fork and no horn in the Indian style, rather than the high horn variety affected by the Spanish trappers and traders. The desired position reached, she wrapped his arms about Big Jake’s neck, and tied them in place, tied his legs together under his belly, and used all of the remaining thongs to lash his body to the saddle and mule. Big Jake had suffered the indignities with rare patience.

She rested for a few minutes, loaded Cub into the make shift sling, and set off From the description Old Jake had given, Deer Woman knew she had no more than a short morning’s travel to reach the waters of the Sweetwater. She longed to be there, dreading the strength sapping trip and the pain of the trapper. Even when she reached the Sweetwater, they would need a safe hiding place to give the man time to recover. The traveling was much easier than on previous nights. The low rolling hills and descending terrain did not present the problems of steep mountain cuts and tree cover they had encountered. The hills here sported only sagebrush. She made good time, despite frequent stops to tend the man. His breathing was harsh and labored, and he groaned softly and continuously. As she tired with the effort, she wondered if it would not be better if she simply left him to die in peace along the way. Brother coyote would benefit, and he could go to the Grandfather Spirit where hunting would be forever easy. But she knew she could not. As long as he lived, her life was his in repayment for having saved her life from the Crows and the dangers along the trail. That much was decided. Simple.

When they reached the Sweetwater, she was disappointed. There was no cover nearby. It was just a large bowl of dirty snow on the north side of the hills that fed the stream. Actually, the river had descended the mountains along a line to the north, and made a bend to the east toward the Platte River at this point. She could see by the light of the waning quarter moon that the stream was wider as more melt water ed it, and appeared to have tree cover in the form of willows and scrub pine along its banks. She stopped briefly to tend Old Jake, and found that the side of the mule was again caked with blood. The wound had reopened. There was nothing she could do. They could not stay on the bare slope. She readjusted his bonds to try to minimize the jolts of Big Jake’s gait, picked a route

that looked to be easier than others, and set out toward the broader portion of the river. With the frequent stops to rest and tend the trapper, the trip took longer than expected. Cub slept most of the trip, resting from his exertions of the day, and the loading of Old Jake. She was alone with her thoughts.

When she reached the lower level of the river, it was indeed broader, swollen by the melt water created by the warm weather of the past few days. She knew it would get even bigger as the season progressed. In fact, it the warmer temperatures persisted, it would become a veritable flood. The washes behind her would become minor streams of their own, feeding into the river. Now she began her search for the campsite in earnest.

She found a number of sites that would have made good campsites in ordinary circumstances. But none of them met her stringent measure for prolonged safety needed for the trapper. The aspen and scrub pine grew thicker. As she continued, the river continued to broaden. Not deep, but broad and busy with the spring melt that fed it, until she noticed that the stream was becoming more narrow as the heavily timbered, low—rising far bank got closer to her. Wait. There was water on both sides of the bank. The swollen stream had created an island that rose twelve to fifteen feet above the water, and was heavily covered with willows, sagebrush and small aspen. The stream on this the side away from the main channel, while not yet deep, would become deeper as the melt continued. This was the place.

By now it was nearly daylight; with the sun just peeping over, the rim of the earth. She would cross to the island anyway, risking being seen rather than risking being discovered on the bank by anyone traveling the trail during the day. She spent several precious moments preparing Big Jake for the crossing. She rubbed his neck, and crooned softly to him, asking the Great Spirit to give him strength and wisdom to make the crossing without difficulty. He was quiet during the ministrations. She grasped the bridle in her left hand and the cinch in her right, and urged the mule into the water. He promptly balked. Continuing to urge him on, she finally led him into the water without permitting him to look

back. Deciding there was nowhere else to go, he proceeded to move across to the island in a series of lunges that threatened to leave Deer Woman and the jenny’s behind. Clinging desperately to the mule. Deer Woman was carried neck deep into the icy water in the deepest portion of the stream. Cub began to squall as he was awakened by the icy shock, but was quickly silenced by the sharp voice of the woman. And then they were across, safely on the bank of the island. Big Jake assumed an indifference that said he had intended this all along.

Shivering badly in her wet clothes, Deer Woman made short work of crossing to the side of the island away from the trail she knew proceeded in the direction they had come. Moving to the trees and brush, she selected a site, and began the process of making camp. The first task was to get Old Jake off the mule’s back. Untying the thongs, she tugged at his shirt until he began to slide off the animal. Her efforts to lower his body were only partly successful. His weight was more than she could bear, and she had to use her own body to cushion the fall. Getting him into the partly wet sleeping robes, she made him as comfortable as possible.

Deer Woman spent time unloading the mules, and laying packs and equipment to dry. She prepared the simple cold meal, brought water to the camp and lay down beside the trapper to rest. She awoke as the sun approached its highest point to find the trapper mumbling and thrashing about in his delirious state. Cub was attempting to rub down Big Jake, who suffered his attention without interrupting his eating. She saw the boy was in no danger, and moved to the more immediate task of shelter.

She selected an area where five small aspen formed a rough circle. Stacking the packs of furs in a heap she climbed atop them, and lashed the aspen together near the tops where they were thinner and more supple. These would serve as teepee poles. Using the trappers tomahawk, she gathered a large supply of small green branches with which to weave between the trunks and branches of the tied —together trees. When that task was complete, she gathered pine branches and threaded them into the woven branches in overlapping layers, roughly imitating thatching. She had finished about half of the shelter before the sun touched the

rim of the western sky. The rest would have to wait, there were other pressing needs. In a quick search of the river bank, she found herbs—dried skunk cabbage with new leaves just beginning to show, dried yarrow from the previous year and others. Returning to camp, she dug furiously for a short time in the middle of the area under the new shelter until she had a small but effective pit where fire could be built that would not easily be seen. With Cub, she gathered enough dried wood to produce a good bed of coals.

With her preparations as complete as she could make them, she moved the man and his bed robes to the shelter and began her wait for darkness. She used the time to prepare food and medicine for the fire. The skunk cabbage was put in water to prepare a broth and the yarrow was ground and mixed with water for a poultice. When darkness came, she hobbled the mules and set them free. They would not cross the river with hobbles, and they were unlikely to be seen at night. She would have to catch and retie them in the morning, but they would at least forage better for the night.

Deer Woman heated the food and medicine over the small fire and shared some of the food with Cub and then moved to take care of Old Jake. Despite her best efforts, she was unable to get him to take the food. She did manage to get him to take some of the skunk cabbage broth. Reexamination of the wound revealed that the previous night’s travel had not helped the wound. A travois for the trapper would have been better, but it would also have left a trail that even the least experienced white man could have followed. No, she had been right, but that didn’t mean the patient would survive. She carefully washed the bear grease and whiskey away and applied the poultice of yarrow. Over this, she applied the now matted shirt to hold the strong smelling mess in place, and retied the thongs. Now the waiting would come. The muttering punctuated with ravings about things she didn’t understand that had taken place all day had ceased after the skunk cabbage broth. Fortunately, the noise created by the rapidly running stream covered his outbursts. Unfortunately, it would also cover any noise made by intruders. These things done, she placed one of the robes over her shoulders, and sat down next to the trapper with a small container of water and a piece of buckskin that she used to bathe the fevered man’s head in an attempt to cool the fires he now endured. She remained in this position throughout the night, dozing

occasionally only to be awakened when his ravings were resumed. Near morning she replenished the water supply, and caught the mules. Actually, once Big Jake was secured, Janet and Jeanette followed readily behind.

When food, medicine and poultice had all been taken care of, she resumed her task of completing the shelter. Except for breaks to refresh the water with which she cooled Old Jake’s head and tended his needs, she worked steadily throughout the day. By nightfall she had completed covering the shelter with the pine bough thatch augmented by a final covering of skins over the sleeping area. Cub’s attempts to help her had been both amusing and heartening. She loved him more. She repeated the previous night’s camp chores with the food, mules and Cub, and then ed the trapper. Thus, began a routine that would last many days.

In fact, they remained in the camp for 20 suns. Old Jake’s fever did not abate on the second or third days, and he grew visibly weaker. On the third day, Deer Woman decided it would be necessary to use the makeshift shelter for the second purpose that she had envisioned. She gathered a large supply of wood, and brought water in all the containers she could find. She also gathered a number of rocks from the bank of the stream that would fit into the iron cooking kettle. Finally, she covered the outside of the shelter with as many robes and hides as she could. Her preparations complete, she placed Cub in a sleeping robe just outside the door, and started a fire in the pit. When a bed of coals had resulted, she placed the rocks on coals, and hung the kettle with water over the fire. As the rocks heated, she placed them alternately in the water until a heavy steam developed in the shelter. The necessity to keep the bed of coals and the steam made the inside of the shelter almost unbearably hot and humid. She was forced to strip nearly naked and pour cold water over herself after several hours of the heat. There was no need to try to stay dry, she became drenched with sweat almost immediately upon returning to the shelter.

Old Jake did not respond to the treatment for many hours. Deer Woman forced the Indian turnip and skunk cabbage broth down the trapper’s throat, despite his gagging, frequently during the night to relieve the pain and induce sweating.

Finally, in the dark hours before dawn his ravings ceased, and he began to sweat. He lapsed into a quiet sleep. Now the healing could begin. Deer Woman slumped over on the robes, and immediately fell into an exhausted sleep. She would not awaken until the sun was well up in the eastern sky.

Old Jake awakened to boyish laughter, and the sound of hoofs. He couldn’t see out of the dark enclosure in which he seemed to be encased, nor could he know that Cub had discovered a hobbled Big Jake and the two jennys standing in camp at day break with whom he was now engaged in a gleeful game of stalk the hunted. He did see the nearly naked form of Deer Woman stretched in sleep near him. Looking about him at the evidence of her handiwork and efforts, and ing his last efforts after the fight and wounding, he felt an awe—filled wonder and affection for the loyalty and she had shown. When he looked back, he felt tears for the first time in years, and was convinced that a beauty shone from within her. She was indeed, beautiful.

His other feeling was one of intense hunger, and despite the warm feeling of affection and belonging, he felt the need to get up and find food. His weakened condition surprised him, and he found he could not rise. His efforts did, however, awaken the woman who pushed him back into place, and arose. Without undue modesty, she dressed and left the shelter to begin the days chores. She was surprised and grateful to find the mules near at hand, and after tying them near camp, she prepared food, and returned to the shelter with Cub. The three of them shared the cold meal that had to be spooned to the trapper. Thus began the long healing process.

Each day thereafter, Deer Woman would help Old Jake out of the shelter into the fresh air. On his first day outside the shelter, the trapper marveled at what this seemingly frail young woman had accomplished. His heart went out to her in a gratitude, and—was it affection? He wasn’t sure, but he was sure that he probably could not have done better himself. He had not felt this much trust and friendship in many years, and he vowed that he would do everything possible to help her reach her people. He also began to share more of his life with her and

Cub. The language lessons took on an earnestness that had been lacking in previous days. Before, he had only been interested in achieving enough skill to develop an understanding of commands and directions. Now, he felt a need to share each persons thoughts so long stored during the lonely period of his solitary trapper’s life, and her enforced servitude. He realized that she would never be proficient in his language. After all, his own mastery of it was not that good. But the increasing use of first words, then phrases and short sentences punctuated by sign language, enriched their time together immensely.

The first days after the fever broke were ones of short periods of activity, frequently punctuated by sleep. He was too weak to even sleep for more than short periods. These periods increased to the point on the fifth day where he was prepared to try to walk. Seeing his efforts, Deer Woman moved to his side, and helped him to his feet. With her , he was able to walk a dozen, staggering steps before he sat down again. Throughout the day, he went through the process three more times, each time gaining more strength and ability. From that day forward, he worked diligently at exercising his body and legs in preparation for the travel he knew must come. Deer Woman was pleased!

On the seventh day, another momentous event to place. By now able to move distances up to 100 paces, Deer Woman took his hand and led him to the river’s edge. Standing on the bank in the fading sunshine of late afternoon, she removed his moccasins, buckskin shirt and leggings. Finally, she removed the bandage, and with satisfaction, noted that swelling and angry redness had subsided. The medicines and his own good health had overcome the infection. She then led him into the water, and proceeded to wash the blood, sweat, grime and spilled food that she had been unable to remove during his sickness with the small bar of lye soap still remaining. Seating him on a log, she then proceeded to clean his buckskins as he had done in the mountain cup at their second camp. Old Jake made his way back to the shelter, and crawled into his robes both to warm himself after the cold water and to rest.

The other major event was the beginning of Deer Woman’s education with the

trapper’s weapons. On the tenth day he brought out the two rifles, and cleaned and coated each with bear fat. When he was satisfied with their condition, he called her, and over and over they went through the process of loading and firing. He was determined that she not only be able to reload for him, but that she be able to fire the weapons if he were not able to do so. The first step was ensuring the barrel was clear, then the measure of powder, followed by the greased patch and ball rammed in place with the wipin’ stick. The final step was crimping the primer, and placing it on the nipple. He could not, of course, use precious ammunition for the lessons, but by showing her the individual parts and repeating the process, he was able to teach her the basic skills. Still he did not stop. Each day they repeated the process until he was satisfied with her progress. The trapper used the same process for the more difficult lessons in cocking, setting the trigger, aiming and shooting. He was not satisfied that she merely became able point the gun at something or someone, she should have the skill to hit her target.

The most difficult task was to explain the process of aiming. He tried drawing Sketches of the rifle and its parts with a sight pattern for the target. They named each part over and over.

“Blade”

“Sight”

“Barrel”

“Set”

“Trigger”

“Blade”

“Sight”

He had her hold the rifle to her shoulder until her arms ached while he touched her eye, the sight, the blade and the target to show the sight line. The final step was to mimic the reloading process and try to fire the rifle using a piece of dried buffalo hide to protect the lock. By the end of the twenty day period, he was reasonably satisfied that she could hit a target the size of a man.

When they had finished rifle training, they went through his other weapons. First, they sharpened and discussed the use of his tomahawk. He also showed her how to throw it, while explaining that throwing was not a good practice. Once the weapon left your hand it was no longer useful, and could be used by the attacker if it missed. It also could be damaged by rocks if it did not hit the target.

They also went through his knives. He had three. The one he told her to use was the trade butcher knife kept in the cooking pack. His own special Sheffield Green River knife that could be used for either skinning or fighting, he did not offer to share, and the woman understood. His third knife was a fine Barlow jackknife that he had carried since his farming days. The finely honed blade shone in the light, and the bone handles fit his palm. This, he presented to Deer Woman as her personal knife. She was delighted! She opened and closed it repeatedly, tested its edge on some smoked venison, and carried it with her constantly. Old Jake had fashioned a small pouch with a rawhide thong for it, and she carried it either around her neck or her slender waist. Her face fairly shone when she used it to prepare the first meal after it was given.

With the gift of the knife and her newfound confidence from the training with the guns, she now announced proudly,

“Deer Woman kill bear now!”

“Yup. But only when I tell yuh. Yuh unnerstand?”

“Yes, Jahk.”

When he thought about it, she had been a very good pupil. She was naturally bright and had grasped the concepts quickly compared to some of his attempts to teach some of his trapper friends the elements of care for their equipment and the smithing skills needed for repair. All of these things had been necessary in his life as a Tennessee farmer. The woman’s bright, quick mind coupled with her ability to use her hands, had pleased and surprised him. She was ed in this respect by Cub. He was his mother’s son. Throughout the long day’s of training, he had ed the two, and observed intently. At other times, he would his mother in her camp tasks—a trait unusual in male Indian children. Or, he was constantly bringing items he had discovered on the island or the riverbank to Old Jake to ire. Rocks, bits of wood, leaves, bones or whatever he found. Each time, Old Jake would examine the find carefully, and solemnly pronounce its name. Bearing his trophy, Cub would carry it away saying the name aloud over and over. Ever so gradually, Old Jake’s affection for this new found “Tim” grew and grew.

The weather had been good throughout their stay. The days had dawned bright and fair with each afternoon bringing a buildup of puffy clouds that had also brought frequent light showers. It was at these times that old Jake particularly

appreciated the shelter that Deer Woman had constructed. He had exercised the wounded side of his body as much as the pain and constriction would permit throughout their stay. He would never entirely be without pain or achieve full use of the damaged muscles, but he had been able to develop much of his former capability.

But now, it was time to move. The trapper had routinely visited the top of the island during the many days to observe the trail on the bank opposite the camp side of the island. During the 20 days of their stay, he had noted three parties of travelers on the trail. Two of these had been Crows—one a small party of hunters and the other a large party of what appeared to be a village on the move to summer hunting. The third had been a white trading group. Old Jake did not feel he was physically fit to face any of them. Now, however, he felt stronger, and the situation on the island had changed. Their stay had brought them to what he estimated to be mid-May. The countryside had turned green with the burgeoning grass, and wild flowers were blooming. The mules, however, had succeeded in stripping the island of both the previous season’s dry grass and the new growth. Any observer from the trail would notice the difference. Food had been adequate. Deer Woman had been able to snare or club enough rabbits and birds to supplement their venison diet. The meat combined with roots and bulbs collected along the river had provided a healthful but unvarying stew. The supply situation had not changed, however. The trapper now had 20 lead balls for the Hawken. No corn remained. They needed supplies, and soon. The age of the season also presented another problem. The decline in snowmelt and runoff meant that the stream flow would decline, and soon travel to and from the island would become very easy. Visitors could be expected anytime.

Chapter 8

They began their preparation. Camp gear was rechecked and repairs made. They needed to return to the hiding place of the furs and check to insure that they were dry and in good shape. The beaver pelts that had been pressed in the handmade press Old Jake had constructed the previous winter, and were hoped to be found to be in excellent condition. They also checked the mules, and found them in excellent condition despite the restiveness shown by the decreasing forage on the island. Everything was ready. The first night would mean a quick trip back to Deer Woman’s cache of furs, and then a return to the east on the Sweetwater trail, because Old Jake had decided they would move east toward Deer Woman’s people.

His decision had not been taken without thought. The old rendezvous on the Green River no longer took place on a regular basis. Trading did take place and there had been talk that “Old Gabe”—Jim Bridger—had plans to start a fort/trading post at the site, but he knew of nothing of that yet. His best chances of with whites this early in the year seemed to be east, and if they didn’t make , they would still be that much closer to Deer Woman’s people. The trip to the cache was more easily accomplished than the first one. Each bale weighed 90 to 100 pounds, and each person must go, but each one could ride. The trip back took a mere three hours, and with time to uncover, repack and load the furs it was a full six hours before they reached the island camp again.

The first day back on the island was spent in repacking and reloading into the smallest, most convenient packs, but finally they were ready. The intervening weeks had brought the full moon again, and once more they would be aided by its light. They set off as the moon was rising and made excellent time despite Old Jake’s weaker condition. By daybreak he estimated that they had covered 10 or 12 miles before it was necessary to make camp in the cover of thick sagebrush well away from the trail. They saw neither travelers nor camps during their time

on the trail. They ed from rolling hills near the Wind River to high, sage brush plains, all the while keeping the Sweetwater River on their right. It was a source of water and life as they moved eastward. The spring rains and warming temperature had caused the countryside to blossom forth. Wild flowers could be found in profusion of all types—if you knew where to look—in this high, near— desert country. The new grass could be found in clumps throughout the area. Not thick but regular and nourishing. Each day dawned bright and clear with the bluest sky found anywhere, only to be followed by growing, puffy clouds that brought frequent showers. Each night was flooded ghostly white with the light of the moon that turned the sagebrush into miniature forests from a planet far removed from Tennessee. Old Jake had come to love the sage and cedar smells in his years the mountains, and their trip was a special time for him

Their nocturnal travels had become pleasant excursions in a warmer and gentler world. They were unhindered by other, and possibly unfriendly, travelers. They encountered no one else, nor did they see signs of anyone during their daily stops. Game was plentiful along the river, and a small amount of effort early each morning provided sage grouse or rabbits. No deer were shot to avoid announcing their presence. At the end of five nights as the moon was waning, he estimated they must be within three nights travel of reaching the Platte River.

It was on the first of these three nights that they encountered their first human fellow travelers. They had been traveling for only a short time by the light of the thin sliver of moon, when Old Jake felt rather than heard the disturbance to the rhythm of the night. When he stopped and opened his mouth to listen, he noticed that Deer Woman had already stopped. She too had felt the disturbance. Then he heard the faint drumming of hooves. Horses being ridden hard. Waving the woman to the thicker brush near the river, Old Jake short-tied the mules in the covering brush. Both rifles were quickly readied, and positions taken in the concealing brush overlooking the trail. Within minutes the horseman had reached the spot on the trail so recently occupied by Old Jake’s small party. Four of them were on horses blowing hard.

“Whoa up a little. Sumthin’s wrong”

“Whut’s wrong now, yuh idjit.” It was John Ransom’s voice.

“Ah thot Ah smelled dust, and it couldn’t hev bin our’n. We got compny”

“Wal, hell it couldn’t be the sojers. They got to be behin’ us.”

“Yeah, an ifn yuh hadn’t wounded that sojer boy, we wouldn’t be runnin’ now. I tell yuh thar’s bin somethin’ on this hyar trail”

“Wal, it ain’t hyar naow, an we ain’t got time tuh look ifn we uns air goin tuh stay in front of them sojers. ‘Sides, no Injun’s ‘I be out this time, 0’ night. Now les git movin”‘.

“Ah’m goin’ tuh look around. Ah don’ like hev’in no coon this close. ‘Sides them weren’t real sojers, They wuz Frenchies—woods hounds they wuz”

“Fine then look fur yersef. Them woods hounds won’t give up easy. We’re moving.” Three of the riders began to ride up the trail to the west. The fourth, forced to show his courage, began a slow circle around the spot where the riders had stopped. Signaling the woman to hold her fire until he had told her, Old Jake trained his Hawken on the rider, and waited. The rider approached to within 15 paces of the concealed trapper’s spot. It was obvious, however that the rider was becoming increasingly nervous by being left alone. He kept glancing up the trail after his departed comrades, and at their back trail as if he expected his pursuers

to appear at any time. With his powers of observation affected by his own anxiety, he missed seeing any evidence of the little party—and thereby saved his own life. Swearing, he jerked the horse’s head around savagely, and plunged up the trail in pursuit of the other three.

Now, what? Old Jake was concerned. If they continued eastward on the trail, they might stumble into the party of soldiers chasing the fugitives, and be shot by mistake. On the other hand, the cover was not good enough to remain in camp tonight and tomorrow. And by the way, what were soldiers doing here anyway? The nearest military installation was Ft. Atkinson in Nebraska. Well, any approach to the soldiers would need to be in the daytime, and with care. With that decision made, he led the group closer to the river and deeper into the brush. Insuring that everything was secure and the rifles ready they made cold camp, and slept until the gray before dawn.

Dawn found the group moving through the brush on a course parallel to the river trail to avoid being caught on the trail itself They did not make good time, but by late afternoon they could see the dark outline of the trees marking the Platte River. They also saw the dust of a sizable horse herd. It was almost certainly the “sojer boys”, but Old Jake’s acquired caution still kept them moving on a course away from the main trail. The early summer day that had stretched the daylight hours was beginning to turn to long shadows and shades of gray by the time they came within hailing distance of the camp. The trapper had spotted the location of the guards earlier. There were two on this side of the camp, each located in covering brush on either side of the trail. Right smartly placed with one a couple hundred paces farther up the trail than the other, so they both wouldn’t be surprised by the same small party of attackers. Whoever was doing the thinking for this group was not Indian and definitely not dumb to the ways of the mountains. It must be the soldiers. Indians did not establish camp or guards in this manner.

Old Jake moved his party into the cleared area of the trail and halloed the camp. He was immediately challenged by the guard to his right, and he could see the

barrel of a rifle pointed directly at him.

“Oo es eet?” came the accented voice.

“Easy thar, this coon be frenly,” replied Old Jake with as soothing a tone as he could muster.

“Why you ave Indian wit you?”

“She’s my wife”—Easier than trying to explain everything.

“Why, you are come thees way?”

“Tradin’ furs”

“Come closair, an keep rifle point to sky”

Old Jake advanced slowly toward the guard and kept his rifle pointed up with his hand away from trigger. If the guard had his trigger set, he need only breath heavily to discharge the rifle. Deer Woman twisted her head nervously, her body taut as a bowstring. When they reached the guard, he motioned them ahead of him and then stepped cautiously behind with his rifle constantly trained on the small of the trapper’s back. Evidently, he had decided to place any problems in the hands of someone in the camp. When they reached the second guard, he too fell into step behind the man and woman with rifle trained. “Something had sure

riled this bunch up to make them this spooky. Oh, well, there must be someone ahead to straighten it out,” thought Jake.

It was actually necessary to cross one branch of the Platte to reach the camp. It had been located on a small island in the river for protection. The trapper was soon to find that the party they were ing had been warned that parties of Sioux were roaming the area, and attacking white men. They had been warned that travel along the trail was impossible, but their leader had decided to proceed despite the warnings. Everyone in the camp was being very cautious. They were met at the edge of camp by a small party led by a young man dressed in a mixture of military uniform and buckskins. His feet were clad in fine leather boots, and in his broad military belt he carried two pistols in a swaggering fashion. Areal dandy.

“Well, now, who do we have here and what is your business, my man?” By his voice and manner, here was an educated man who was used to authority.

“Hold on, Cap’n. I know this trapper, an I kin vouch for him. This is Old Jake Anderson, an I seen him at ronnyvoos many a time. Good man. This came from a slender, well built young man dressed in mountain buck skin fashion. When Old Jake glanced at the speaker, he was pleasantly surprised to find that Kit Carson was standing next to “The Cap’n.”

“Good tuh see yuh, Carson.”

“Same here, how yuh been yuh or he coon.”

“Tolerable, tolerable. Been back up on the Wind.”

“Any luck?”

“Not much. Things gettin’ tough.”

“Cap’n, this coon’s been in the woods longer’n most, but he’s alright, I kin tell yuh.”

Fancy Pants was not impressed. His comment was:

“Squaw man, huh?” displaying his new knowledge of both the wilderness and the prejudices of much of the eastern, Atlantic states community at the same time.

“Easy, Cap’n, some of these trappers put high store in their wives, and some of them Injun women make mighty fine mates” cautioned Carson. He was too much of a mountain man not to have noted the tightening around Old Jake’s eyes and mouth, and the shifting of his hands on the rifle. But the “Cap’n” was too impressed with himself to heed a warning from his subordinate, even if the caution came from someone as competent in the ways of the mountains as Kit Carson.

“Huh” he snorted “She doesn’t look like much to me. Couldn’t hold a candle to my Jessica. If you have been on the trail west, have you seen any war parties? We were told that the Sioux were out and hostile.”

“Ain’t seen no Injuns, ’cept a small tribe ‘0 Crows goin huntin’ a few days ago.” Old Jake observed to Carson.

Seeing that the trapper had no news that deserved his attention, Fremont spun on his heel, dismissing the Squaw Man from his mind, and headed for the camp. Carson, however, extended the hospitality ingrained in the habitants of the western mountains:

“Easy, old hoss, foller me, and we’ll find a spot to light fer the night”

“Not too close to tuh Fancy Pants, iffn’ yuh don’t mind”

“Aw, Jake, he’s alright. Jest needs a bit o’ seasonin’.”

“Who is he ennyway?”

“We’ll palaver on that after yuh git settled.”

Carson led them to a spot near the water, and sheltered by some of the larger aspen, and left to return to camp where the meal was being prepared. The trapper and Deer Woman set up camp with the speed and efficiency of an experienced team. Old Jake was pleased. As he and Deer Woman prepared their meager meal, Carson appeared with a pan of corn bread and a couple chunks of roast buffalo.

“Thot yuh might like a taste of buffaler. Looked like yuh might be travellin’ a mite light”

“Yup. Preciate it. Ain’t had a good bait a’ buffaler since last summer. And that corn bread looks mighty welcome.”

Carson returned to camp with the promise to come back after the supper was over. The taste of the hot corn bread and meat was a treat to be eaten with a relish born of many cold, scant meals in the recent past. Cub’s eyes fairly shone at the treat that compared in his mind with the finest cake enjoyed by the children of the rich in the more settled east. Deer Woman smiled readily, something she had not done since entering the camp of the white man.

Darkness had fallen, and the campfire had become a bed of embers when Kit Carson returned and squatted across from Old Jake.

“Wall, hoss, its been a long spell since I last seen yuh” greeted Carson.

“Yup, must have been ronnyvoo in ’34. Lotta trails since then”

“See yuh picked up a family since then.”

“Wallin a manner of speaking.” Deer Woman had retreated to the sleeping robes at Carson’s arrival. Now Old Jake called her to the dim light at the edge of the fire.

“This here’s Deer Woman. She air Rapahoe. Saved my life up the trail a bit. Mighty fine woman.”

“Wal, Jake I bin watchin’ how yuh favor your lef arm. Yuh wouldn’t hev had a run-in with a pack of traders up the trail would yuh?

“Yep. Got me in the back when they tried to rob me and take the woman”

“Figgered so. Two of em John Ransom and Zeb Martin, came into camp two days ago breathin’ fire about being attacked by a crazy trapper trying to steal goods and woundin’ one of their party. Seems he died two weeks later when the wound putrified. Two days later they wuz attacked by a war party an lost all their outfit. Wuz blamin’ the trapper for bein’ short-handed. Wanted our outfit to head out after the Injuns to get their gear back.”

“Wal, Carson, it weren’t quite that way”

“Figgered so, they wuz a mean lot.”

Old Jake went on to relate the events since leaving the Wind River camp. After a long, lonely winter there was nothing better than swapping stories about the latest exploits and news of the outside. When he had finished, and given Deer Woman full credit for her role, Carson responded:

“Had it pegged for suthin’ like that when I spotted who yuh was. Them two fellers took up with four traders that ed us when we hit this trail. Wanted to

travel with us. Said it’d be safer fer everbody. Wal, when the other two got here, they all began to drinkin’ and carryin’ on til them two bad one’s convinced the other’s to send two of their niggers along with ’em to get their outfit back”.

“Yeah, we run into ’em a night ago. Seemed to be in an all-fired hurry.”

“Shoulda bin. That John what fancied hisself on his stud started a argument with one of our Frenchies an ended up puttin’ a knife in ’im. The bunch took out in a hurry ahead of some of the Frenchies. The Frenchies gave up after dark, but they give ’em a run.”

“Yup. They ed us couple hours after dark where we wuz hid out.”

“Bad bunch, Jake, yuh need to watch ’em. That John wuz swearin’ he’d find yuh an’ kill yuh fer havin’ him lose his outfit, Said he’ track yuh to hell an’ back when he got his outfit back.”

“We’ll be ready, Carson.”

“Whut yuh plannin’ to do next, Jake?”

“Wal, Ah need to do some tradin’. We’re about out of ever’thin’ includin’ Galena an’ powder. Yuh trust them traders camped over thar?”

“Oh, bout as much as any. Besides, we can control ’em as long as they’re in our

camp. The Cap’n ain’t too happy with ’em fer stickin’ one of his men even if the Frenchie ain’t hurt fatal. We’ll see yuh git a fair deal.”

“Whut bout you, Carson? Whut yuh doin’ in this outfit, and who’s the fancy pants Cap’n?”

“Ah keep tellin’ yuh, Jake, he’s a good man. Smart too. Jest a little green. Name’s Fremont. John C. Fremont. Got hisself a daddy-in-law that’s a U.S. Senator. He was sent out here on orders to survey the trail to South . That other feller with ’im by the name of Preuss is real smart too. Both nice fellers.”

“Whut the heck yuh need tuh survey a trail tuh South fer? Everbody knows where it is enyway.”

“Yeah, fellers like you an’ me that bin out here a while do, but we got a lot of settlers comin’ this way this year. Already started from St Looie. Gonna be maybe a hunert wagons on this trail this year.”

“Naw, yer joshin’ me. It’s already crowded enuff out here.”

“Wal, she’s gonna git a lot worse, ol’ hoss.”

“An thet fancy pants Cap’n of yers is gonna help ’em? He seemed pretty uppity tuh me, an’ Ah did’nt take kindly to his talk about Deer Woman. Anyway, whut are yuh doin’ with this bunch?”

“Oh, Ah decided after last winter that beaver trappin’ was done fer. So Ah got me this job guidin’ these fellers. Actually, it ain’t so bad. The Cap’n is the only soljer. The rest of us, includin’ the old German Preuss, are civilians hired to do the job. Most of ’em are Coer du Bois from up north. Knows the woods pretty good.”

“Gave up the beaver, huh?”

“Yep, the trade’s pretty well gone.” With that, Carson rose, and as he left, said, “Got a big day tommorrer. Better hit the robes. Ah’ll help yuh with the traders, and then we’ll be movin. But yuh need to be careful of that feller John. He’s sure hot to kill yuh.” And with he was gone.

Old Jake sat by the fire for a long time. It was a warm, still night, and creatures were going about their business. The most active of these were the mosquitoes that had increased rapidly in the past two weeks. He should get up, and put green wood on the embers to discourage them, but still he sat lost in thought. In twelve years in the mountains, he had managed to avoid developing serious enemies while still preserving the respect devoted to a man who could not be pushed. Now he would have to look over his shoulder. Oh well. They would head south along the Platte, and then cross the mountains to the east where Deer Woman’s people could be found. It would be a tougher route than taking the trail to the east that would take them around the north end of them, but there be less chance of Ransom’s bunch finding them. When they got to the Arapahoe, he could hunt buffalo to make his stake for next winter, and recover some of his losses.

As the trapper prepared to rise, he noticed Deer Woman standing patiently behind him. How long she had been standing there he didn’t know. She had gathered green branches in preparation for the mosquitoes, and now waited patiently for him to go to his robes. When he did, she placed the wood on the fire, and ed him in the robe next to his.

Old Jake awoke to slight noises of a struggle and mulled sounds coming from the woman’s robe. He could see a dark figure bent over the woman’s form attempting to hold the struggling woman, and keep a hand over her mouth. As quietly and quickly as a striking wolverine, the trapper grabbed his rifle, slipped from the robe and turned on the attacker. As the figure raised its arm to strike the woman to silence her, the cold, round muzzle of the Hawken was placed against one ear, and the harsh click of the hammer being brought to cock sounded very loud. No words were necessary. The figure stiffened-frozen into position, and Deer Woman slipped from under the intruder.

“I no do, Jake. I no do!” she whimpered.

“I know. Get the fire,” he replied. The figure had not moved. When the fire blazed up, Old Jake said through clenched teeth:

“Git up very carefully. I’d be happy tuh blow a hole through yer ears. Now move slowly tuh the fire.” It was one of the guards that had brought them into camp.

The resurgence of the fire, and the movement around it had alerted the guards, and they began running toward the trapper’s camp. Fremont emerged from his tent to see what the commotion was about, and was ed by Carson. When they reached the trapper’s camp, they found a standoff in process. The rifle held to the ear of Deer Woman’s attacker by Old Jake had not wavered. Nor had his attention despite the menacing approach of the guards. Fremont’s approach was to ask in a loud voice:

“What is going on here. I will not have some dirty squaw man attacking my men.”

“Back off Cap’n. Let’s find out whut’s goin’ on here before we git somebody kilt. Jake, ease off on the rifle, we’ll talk on this.

Without moving his eyes, the trapper lowered the Hawken until it was centered on the small of the back of the man.

“What happened, hoss?”

“Nigger tried to rape my woman.”

“Non. Non! She is squaw. Is small matter,” protested the ceour du bois. “She like Martine.”

“Liar,” snarled Old Jake. “He wuz gittin’ ready to knock her cold when she fought. Should’a kilt him then.”

“Mon Capitan, I appeal to you. She is jus’ squaw. Martine be good for her. We have not seen woman in six week.” Fremont’s sense of humor failed him entirely. Both the honor of his camp and his authority had been challenged. Though tight with anger, he said to Carson.

“Mr. Carson, see that this man is lashed to the wheel of the trader’s wagon for the night. We will take care of the matter in the morning. Mr. Anderson, apologize for the breach of hospitality, and assure you it won’t happen in my camp again.” With that, he turned and marched stiffly back to his tent. Old

Jake’s reaction was to comment quietly to no one in particular.

“Yuh kin count on thet, Cap’n.” As Carson and the rest moved to the trader’s wagon, Old Jake went to Deer Woman, who was standing rigidly in the shadows of the trees, and out of sight of the others. Cub was attached firmly to one leg. He saw the trembling in her body, and the tears coursing silently down her cheeks.

“I make trouble. Big trouble,” she said quietly.

“Naw, twere’nt you,” replied Old Jake gently, and took her by the shoulder to lead her back to the robes. He gently pushed her to the robes, put Cub beside her, and covered them both. After checking the priming on his rifle, he sank wearily to his robe. It had been a long day, and the wound was painful again, but the tension of the last hour would not let him sleep. He also noted that Deer Woman was lying rigidly with her body shaken by trembling at frequent intervals. Slipping his arm under her shoulders, he drew her to his side and spoke softly to her until the trembling stopped, and she began to relax. Later, after she had fallen asleep, the trapper reflected on his feelings about her closeness. He had to it that they were warm feelings that gave him contentment that had not been with him since Alma. They were not unwelcome feelings, and as he slipped into sleep, he knew he wanted them to continue.

Old Jake and Deer Woman had finished their morning tasks, and were laying out the furs when Carson appeared with a skinny man in rough homespun clothes unlike the mountain men throughout the camp. He grinned broadly and knowingly at Deer Woman, and moved to the piles of furs, small though they were. When he came back to where Old Jake and Carson were talking quietly, he said:

“Fair lookin’ pelts. Might be able to reach a trade.”

“Naw, prime as yuh’ll find anywhere. We’ll trade right or Ah’ll head fer Bents.” the trapper replied, and asked:

“How much fer Galena and powder?”

“Four beaver tuh the pound,” came the answer with a sly smile. Old Jake looked at Carson. It was less than he had hoped. Carson said:

“Won’t do much better, hoss. Beaver ain’t worth much anymore. He’s bout right.”

“How bout powder?”

“Same price, four beaver tuh the pound.” Calculating quickly, Old Jake estimated that his beaver would bring ten pounds of lead and five of powder in the ratio he needed. That was about 250 to 280 baIls for the Hawken-moreif he mixed the smaller 45 caliber balls. Not what he hoped, and he countered with: “Make it 15 pound of Galena and 8 pound ‘0 powder for all the beaver.”

“Nope. Cain’t go thet much, but since yore a fren 0’ Carson’s Ab’ll make 12 pound 0’ Galena an’ 6 powder.” Old Jake looked at Carson who nodded slightly and then looked away. The trapper reluctantly agreed, and the barter continued for primer caps and the food staples of corn, a small slab of bacon, sugar, beans and macaroni. When it was over the furs were gone except for the bear skin and

two prime fox pelts. Old Jake then asked the prime question:

“Need me a pack animal. Got any?”

“Nope. Nary a one. Need all we got.”

Old Jake pondered that problem for several minutes. He knew another animal was important to both his plans for travel, and a potential buffalo hunt, but he would have to wait until he could find Indians willing to trade for a horse. If the trader had been willing, his ace-in-the-hole was the $20 gold piece sewed in his buckskins that he had saved from last year’s trading. Not much good in the mountains, but sure handy with traders.

The necessities taken care of, Old Jake asked his last question.

“Got any cloth? Flannel mebbe?”

“Yep. Shorely do. A roll of the red fer the bearskin ye got fer the squaw?”

“It’ll take one red an’ one blue or I trade it tuh the Injuns.”

“Done.” The trader well knew the value of the bearskin. Old Jake ended things by trading the fox pelts for needles, thread, a pound of beads and a small scissors. He was done.

Kit Carson watched the proceedings with an amused smile. When Old Jake turned to signal the end of business, he walked over and said:

“Don’t know iffn it’ll help much, but might be able to fix yuh up with a mule.

Went lame on us, an’ we’re goin’ to hev to git rid of him.”

“How bad is he, an’ how much?”

“Don’t know. Seems like he’ll be alright with some time. Ab’ll hev tuh ask the Cap’n. Only favor I ask is yuh let me see the woman’s face when yuh give ’er them foofraws.”

“Done,” grunted the trapper thinking of the gold piece. When he had moved the rest of the goods to their camp, he picked up the two bundles of cloth and the sewing utensils. He walked to Deer Woman followed by a grinning Carson. Seeing Old Jake’s sober, intent look, a worried frown appeared on her face. What had she done? When the trapper opened the bundles and presented each gift, and she realized they were for her, the frown was replaced by a huge smile and a soft-

“Aaaahh.”

She had gone through too much to shriek or engage in silly babbling, but for Old Jake the effect was the same. Carson’s comment was:

“Ah’ll be derned. Yuh do hev an unusual one there.” That Deer Woman was delighted to the point where she felt like she would burst was not the question. Rather it was the dignity and restraint with which she had conducted herself. She fingered the cloth over and over and dreamed of what she could do to replace the tattered buckskin dress she wore. But the dream was real. The man had ed her. She placed the treasures with the packs, and at the trappers request, followed the two men to the horse herd where the activity was an overturned anthill. Men and animals were everywhere, packing, saddling, and loading for the day’s march. Carson led the two to one side of the melee where a lone Jack mule had been tethered away from the other horses and mules. He was standing patiently, but jerked alert when the trio arrived. Speaking softly, Old Jake worked his way up the rope, an began rubbing the mule’s neck. The two seemed to understand each other from the start. The Jack had alert eyes and ears, a sturdy build, albeit considerably smaller than Big Jake. His legs were straight, with no indication of badly formed ts all bespeaking a good background. Running his hands over him to gain his confidence, Old Jake liked what he saw, and liked what appeared to be a gentle nature.

“Which leg is it, Carson?”

“Right front.”

Moving to the right front leg, he ran his hands along it, but could not find a problem. When he lifted the hoof, however, it was obvious. The bottom of the hoof had been gouged deeply by what must have been a very sharp, pointed object. Rock, maybe. But mules are naturally more careful about where they step. Must have been pushed hard by a drover to get this wound. Festered, too.

It was then that he noticed that Deer Woman had knelt beside him, and was examining the wound. In an instant she had her Barlow knife out, and was

scraping away the dirt and manure crusted over the wound.

“I fix. You see,” she said confidently. But at that point, another voice intruded in angry tones.

“Here now, what mischief are you up to now? Haven’t you done enough to disrupt the discipline of this camp?”

“Don’t fret none, Cap’n. We wuz just lookin’ at this here lame mule. My friend, Jake here, needs another pack animal, an’ I thot he might could use him.

“Well, this is a valuable animal. The U.S. Government paid $28 for back at Fort Atkinson.”

“Ain’t worth nuthin’ now, sir. We either got to turn ’im loose or shoot ’im, cause he cain’t travel fast enough for the rest o’ us.”

“Kit, you do exasperate me at times. You know we can’t give Government property to every squaw man beggar that comes along.” He had to get that final barb in.

“But I can’t argue your logic. Go ahead and do what you think is best.”

And with that, he turned his back and marched away to where the German, Preuss, was packing equipment.

“Certainly did a lot of uppity marchin’ away,” thought Old Jake. “But then Carson seemed to set a lot of store in ’im, so Ah’ll hold my peace.”

As old Jack and Deer woman prepared to lead the mule away, Carson said:

Gotta git goin’ ifn I’m goin’ tuh leave with the rest. I hope thet mule gits yuh whar yer goin’, an yuh mind what I said bout thet feller John. Ah’d watch my back trail if u I wuz you;”

“Thankee, Carson. I owe yuh any time yuh need it.”

“Adios.”

With the fatalism born of the life they led, they both knew there might not be a next time, but they would relish the time they had had.

Chapter 9

Back at camp, the trapper faced a new problem. They could not travel far or fast with the lame mule. The camp on the trail was fine for a party as large as Fremont’s, but was too exposed to other travelers ing this way for Old Jake’s small group. They must move today, at least away from the trail. Deer Woman had been working with the new mule, brushing, currying and generally getting him used to being handled.

“Zhake. His name? What is?” she called.

“Oh, don’t know. Jack, I guess—Yeah, Jack.” He was not particularly imaginative in the selection of names, but there was a certain practicality in what he did. First of all, it made the names easy to by their similarity. Secondly, calling one name invariably got the attention of all of them. And—it was better than calling them “mule”. Now he explained to Deer Woman that they must move, and it would have to be at a pace that Jack could sustain.

The packs were smaller now, and consisted mostly of the camp gear and equipment and the newly acquired supplies. They were able to load light packs on the two jennys leaving Big Jake free for a rider. Big Jake had not objected to the addition of Jack. He had examined him carefully and nipped him once to show his authority, after which he ignored him as any threat to his leadership. As long as Jack did not fight back, that status would remain. When the trapper motioned to the woman to mount Big Jake, she refused firmly, indicating that she would lead Jack. That left Cub as the sole rider of Big Jake, which pleased him immensely. And with the sun already high in the sky, they slowly made their way south along the Platte River. By the end of the day they had covered a scant five miles. The frequent stops necessitated by Jack’s wound did not permit more.

The only break in the slow monotony of move and stop occurred when Old Jake spotted a small herd of antelope. After a careful stalk, he broke the neck of a small buck with his first shot. He had decided that a shot this close to the campsite of the large Fremont party would not attract undue attention to their small party. The fresh meat would be welcome.

Near dark they found a campsite near the river that was sheltered by a stand of aspen and a steep bank cut out of the sandy clay soil. It offered both shelter and protection from prying eyes. Deer Woman did not help with the unloading and setting up camp. She immediately began a search for herbs and medicines along the river bank. When she had what she needed, she mixed them into a thick, fibrous poultice that was set to one side. She then softened thick rawhide strips in water. Her next step was to clean the damaged foot and wrap the poultice in place with the wet rawhide. The wrapping was held in place until it began to dry. Throughout this process, Jack patiently accepted the treatment almost as if he knew help was intended. Deer Woman spent the night at Jack’s side to ensure that he did not attempt to scrape or chew the crude bandage off. In the meantime, Old Jake had set up camp, taken care of the other mules, prepared food and taken care of the antelope hide. He and Cub spent the night in the sleeping robes, and awoke to find Deer Woman still tending the mule. She had, however, begun the morning camp chores. In the meantime, the buckskin had dried and shrunk tight to the mules foot, almost like a tough, outer skin. He would be able to travel again today.

Travel that day was much the same as the previous one with frequent stops to rest the injured mule. They did make better time, however, due to some improvement on Jack’s part. By late afternoon they had reached the point at which the low mountains that formed the Great Divide turned southward to parallel the Platte River. It was time to look for a secure campsite where both animals and humans could, rest and recover. By Old Jake’s estimate they had covered 10—at best 12—miles. It would be one day’s march from the Fremont campsite for any pursuer.

What they found was a small stream ing the Platte from the mountains to the west. In another 30 suns, it would be dry or nearly so, but for now there was enough flow to provide 12 inches of clear mountain water. Old Jake led the small party up the rocky stream bed until they came to a small tree-rimmed meadow on the side of one of the slowly rising hills. They had water, forage, cover and a location that provided a good view of their back trail. Old Jake was satisfied.

They stayed in camp for three full days, during which time Old Jake was in an agony of worry. To remain in one location in this country with John Ransom and partners looking for them for any length of time could really affect their health permanently. He would much prefer the high mountain country, where he had better control of the situation. On the third day, his watch of the trail paid off, but not in the way he had expected. The tell-tale dust cloud appeared on the trail to the south, not the direction from which he expected pursuit by John Ransom. A large party by the size of the dust cloud.

Old Jake, Deer Woman and Cub waited anxiously as the dust-cloud drew near the spot where they lay watching. Would the party be friendly, or had they come such a long, difficult way to lose everything. As Old Jake considered the possibilities he decided it was most likely Indians. The dust cloud was too large for a few trappers or traders. As the party drew near the point on the trail below the camp, he became more puzzled. Emerging from the dust, he counted a mere six riders. Then he saw that they were leading pack animals and loose horses! And they were Indians. Moving fast. The Indians ed the creek leading to the small camp without a glance or stopping for water. When they were well out of sight behind the rolling hills, Deer Woman said:

“Utes from north. They go to trade. Horses. Food. For trader things”

“Urn, yuh think we can move south? How ’bout Jack?”

“Utes be gone three, maybe four sun. Find trader. Get drunk. Then come. Jack walk now.”

“Wal, I reckon we best move out in the mawnin then” They spent the rest of the day preparing to move. The equipment was assembled in packs and everything checked. Old Jake removed the buckskin covering from Jack’s foot, and found the wound to have healed quite well. It would be many days before it was fully healed, but he had no doubts that he could travel without much more than a slight limp. At Deer Woman’s insistence, they soaked and replaced the buckskin covering.

In the morning they redistributed the packs between Jeanette and Jack. Jack’s load was light but adequate to permit Deer Woman to ride Janet—a circumstance that did not please the woman, but she understood. Jack was her favorite. Cub rode with Old Jake without complaint from Big Jake.

The fact that all were mounted improved their ability to travel significantly. By the time the sun was midway in the sky, they had covered an estimated 8 miles, and Jack was not showing signs off altering. When they camped, they had traveled nearly 20 miles. A good day.

Camp was made well away from the main trail. A fire was made to prepare the meal, and once completed, the party withdrew 100 paces away into the sagebrush. In the morning, they repeated the previous day’s routine; except, now they had a large snow topped peak that formed the northernmost part of the eastern range of the great mountains on their left. Row on row of peaks and ridges marched southward to a higher range that was covered by even more snow. The their right the low mountains became taller with each mile leading to their own range of high, snow covered mountains.

On the fourth day of travel, they were moving down a broad valley through which the River twisted and turned in lazy arcs. It was here that Old Jake decided they would camp and rest. Finding a sheltered spot in the bend of the river, he told Deer Woman they would make camp. She readily agreed after four days of sitting on the makeshift saddle that Old Jake had fashioned. She had, however, become accustomed to the gait of the mule, which she found to be much smoother than that of a horse. The only disquieting thing had been the tendency of the jenny to make her own decisions about how much, how far and when she wished to travel.

The campsite they chose was protected on three sides by the loop in the River and a stand of timber on the fourth. The enclosed meadow held an abundance of grass now drying in the summer air. They would stay the remainder of this day and the next to rest. They need not expect the Utes to return for another three days at the soonest, and Certainly John Ransom would not be ahead of them. Good reasoning on Old Jake’s part, but fated to be proved wrong. As the sun dipped toward the western mountains, Old Jake rummaged through his packs until he found a small packet of hooks and line that he had carefully preserved during his travels. Cutting a slender aspen pole, he rigged the line and attached the hook. The final touch was a small strip of red flannel taken from his much used old shirt. Taking Cub by the hand, he walked to the River and moved along the bank until he found a likely spot. Here he carefully swung the hook until he could drop it into a small pool. Slowly, he retrieved the hook. On the third try, he hooked a fish. Making sure the fish was securely hooked, he placed the pole in Cub’s hands, and helped him land the fish. Cub was delighted, and hopped up and down giggling all the while. The result was a 12” trout.

Cub could not be stopped. Over and over again he begged to have the hook and line cast out until he had pulled a dozen shiny, fat fish to the bank. Old Jake was equally delighted. He truly loved to fish. Had since his days on the farm in Tennessee. But he was equally pleased to share that bit of happiness with the boy.

Deer Woman had stood and watched from a distance with a strange smile on her face. She was partly puzzled by and partly attracted to the trapper. There was a warm feeling inside her that spread through her body and made her flush. Never had she encountered a man that showed so much concern for both her and her child since her father. His gentleness and patience with mother and child was belied by his strength of body and mind in all other matters. He could be as fierce as a cornered bear in the face of enemies, and just as protective of his own. Truly amazing to a woman that had been treated slightly less well than her warrior husband’s warhorse. And she made up her mind. This would be her man from now until they were no more.

Deer Woman moved to the two fisherman, and began helping clean the catch, all the while making praising comments to the youngest of them. She commented on his skill and strength as a provider of food. He responded by standing and walking as tall as he could, and assuming the proper air of dignity befitting a proud warrior of his heritage. Old Jake gave a knowing smile to Deer Woman, and they proudly bore the catch back to camp. Cooked over the coals of their fire, they became a feast for the small group. Nothing could compare with newly caught trout roasted and eaten immediately, no matter that most Indians preferred red meat. Cub ate until his stomach became round and his eyes heavy with sleep. That, too, was in true warrior tradition.

They slept, that night, as they had done those many nights on the trail—in a small tight group seeking protection and comfort from the unknown. Only Deer Woman remained awake long after the other two had fallen asleep. What should she expect of this man? Would he be her husband? Or was he not interested in her as a woman? The attraction she now felt needed more expression of his feelings than she had received. Most of the men she knew in the past would already have tried to force their attentions on her one way or the other. Physically, if necessary. She sensed, however, that this man would never force her to do what she did not want to do. She decided that she must take the first step. With that decision made, she fell asleep.

Old Jake awoke in the early morning hours before sunrise with a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. He could hear horses moving on the trail. Horses moving slowly and what seemed to be hesitantly. He slid out of the robe quickly and silently with his rifle in hand, and went quickly to the brush along the trail. Within minutes, he saw them in the gray light before dawn. Two of them. Indians. Slumped over on their horses as if totally fatigued. Their horses showed the same effects of hard travel. It was then that the trapper noted that one of the riders was feebly attempting to hold the other on his horse while trying to hold his rifle in his other hand. The one being held was either asleep or unconscious. Looked more like wounded and unconscious to the trapper. Old Jake made a quick decision based on a growing conviction as to what had happened, and who was responsible. He stepped into the trail as the rider with the gun reached his stand and grabbed the hackamore while simultaneously pushing the barrel of his Hawken into the Indian’s chest.

Dazed, but startled to a semblance of awareness, the Indian tried to raise his rifle toward the trapper, but a blow to his arm with the heavy barrel of the Hawken caused his rifle to fall to the ground. Surprisingly, both Indians collapsed in heaps on the trail. Neither horse attempted to bolt. They were just too tired.

Deer Woman appeared at his side. He had not heard her come during the short scuffle, but once again he was pleasantly surprised and pleased at the quiet competence with which she approached each new twist in the trail they traveled. She caught the reins of the ponies and led them back to camp to be tied in the trees. There was no resistance. Old Jake in the meantime had disarmed the two Indians, and was half ing, half dragging the most active of the two back to camp. He gave the rifle to Deer Woman to watch the uninvited guest while he returned for the other. When both had been made as comfortable as possible, he conferred briefly with Deer Woman, who announced:

“Ute” There was a slight note of disdain and only a little hostility in her voice. “Have big trouble. ““Yep. But they’re critters and I reckon we need to help. Get

the fire going and some vittles on. Then check all the rifles. Don’t want no other visitors from what I see of these two. Ah I’ll see what ails ’em.”

Before examining them, however, he signed to the one that was conscious that he meant no harm. No response was given by the Ute. In fact, no expression was shown. If he understood, his fear, hatred, fatigue or whatever combination thereof prevented him from showing any emotion. Merely wary watchfulness. His watchfulness increased as Old Jake began a careful examination of the unconscious Indian. Very young. Not much older than a boy. But old enough to have taken a ball low in the right side. From the back. Either from ambush or while fleeing. If his suspicious were confirmed, he was not surprised at the back shot. The wound was serious, but did not appear to have hit any vital organs. It would come doctoring to pull him through. By the time the trapper moved to the conscious Indian, his patient’s fears had been somewhat allayed. At least the trapper didn’t intend to kill him immediately. The second Indian had a flesh wound across the muscular part of one shoulder. Not serious, but he had lost enough blood and suffered enough pain to seriously weaken him.

When Deer Woman returned from her chores, she greeted the Ute with short barking questions and flowing sign language. His responses were either grunts or equally short explanations. The two were part of the party that had ed Old Jake and Deer Woman’s camp on the way north. They were Utes from the northern part of the tribe, and had been going to trade the horses obtained from the Cheyenne of the plains and furs from their winter’s catch to traders along the trail. They had found the traders about three days up the trail, and had been welcomed with food and whiskey. But when all had been made crazy and unable to control their bodies, the four traders had taken their rifles, and started to shoot the Utes. Three had died immediately. A fourth fell to a tomahawk. His companion had been shot while he staggered to his pony, but managed to mount and start riding away. He himself had been a short distance from the other Utes while being sick from the whiskey. When the shooting started, he had lifted his rifle and fired at the attackers, but whiskey and bad light had sent the ball wide of any mark. When he turned to flee he was shot by a man with a short rifle carried in his belt. Reaching his pony, he had fled with his companion. They had ridden day and night to reach their camp to the south where other warriors would

help them return, and kill the hated white men. When the story was complete, he lay back with eyes closed to rest. Old Jake’s suspicions grew stronger, and he asked Deer Woman:

“Ask him what the man with the short rifle looked like” She relayed the question and responded:

“He say, leader have black hair on face. Tall man. Have he-horse. Other man fat. Have hair like winter grass. Dirty”

“John Ransom and Zeb,” mused Old Jake. “Now whut do yuh suppose he’ll do next?” Would he try to chase the escaping Utes south? Not likely. He would be more concerned with disposing of the loot gained from the massacre. Probably trade it to the next trader up the trail. Or cache it. But he had to get rid of the horses. Regardless of which way he went, it would take days to take care of all of it! Add to that the probability that some time would be spent in drinking the trade whiskey, and celebrating their good fortune. Old Jake, however, did not believe John Ransom would abandon any idea of taking the trail south once he had gotten rid of the plunder. They would need to stay cautious, but at least they had a little time.

Deer Woman’s medical skills were put into practice again. It was getting to be a habit. She prepared the broth and poultice and istered both after Old Jake had carefully cleansed the wounds. She refused, however, to use the flannel cloth so recently obtained from Old Jake for bandages. Instead, she resorted to the much used, worn out flannel shirt that had been washed in the river, This she cut into pieces to make bandages. When their task was complete and food and water given to their charges, the two Utes were made comfortable, and covered with pack covers. Now they would wait.

“Whut are the names of these Utes”

“Bad hurt—him Little Bear. Other called Gray Wolf’

“Urn. Wal, we got to travel soon. How long afore we kin go?

“Little Bear not ride. Many suns”

“Yep. Spose so. Travois mebbe?”

“Yes. Can make”

“Naw. I’ll take keer of it” He proceeded to the riverbank, where he selected two slender but solid poles and trimmed them of branches. They were not too heavy, and had enough springiness to ease some of the jolts. He fastened a cross frame to the poles, and lashed pack covers over it to provide a place to rest.

The remainder of the day was spent caring for the two wounded men and preparing for the travel they knew must take place. They could not afford to give the renegade traders any more time to catch up. Neither of the wounded men either regained consciousness or awoke. Old Jake checked the Indian’s rifle and repaired the stock with rawhide. It was an old flintlock trade rifle. No matter, they would need all the weapons they could find.

Chapter 10

In the morning, Gray Wolf was awake and alert. During the brief breakfast, Old Jake, with Deer Woman’s help, pointed out the need to travel. The Indian agreed, and in fact became insistent that they start south that very day. The use of a travois for Little Bear was understood and approved, and further added to his desire to move away from the attacking traders. Old Jake wondered if his desire would have been less if it had been necessary for Little Bear to ride. He also wondered if the Indian pony would respond to pulling the travois. He need not have worried. When everything else was ready, they led the pony to the pole frame and lashed it to his back without any objection on his part. He had obviously done this task before. Little Bear was carefully placed in the travois and also lashed in place. He still did not regain consciousness. They moved south at a steady, ground eating walk.

Big Jake led the small procession. He had not accepted the Indian ponies easily. It had been necessary to tie him to a tree separated from the others after he had tried three times to attack the two ponies with teeth and hooves. Now, as long as he was not required to look at or follow the others, he could ignore them. He set a pace that was hard for the others to follow, but it did meet the goal of achieving distance from pursuers.

By mid-day, Little Bear’s pony was beginning to labor under the load. Old Jake knew they would need to find a campsite soon, despite Gray Wolfs urging to continue. As they rode, his searching of the riverbank was rewarded in the form of a small bluff set back from the river with a brush covering the top. Watering the horses and mules before leaving the river, they moved to the top of the bluff. There, they unloaded the animals before tethering them in the grassed open spaces on the south and west side-away from the river trail.

Little Bear had regained consciousness during the jolting afternoon ride. In true warrior fashion, he had maintained a stoic silence rather than give in to the temptation to groan in pain. The deeply etched lines in his face and neck betrayed the strain involved in withstanding the pain, Old Jake moved to his side and examined the wound. It was red and angry looking, but did not appear to be worse than the previous night. “Might make it.” he thought. He wiped it clean and reapplied the poultice material used by Deer Woman. She had chosen to watch, but not help. She continued to shown her disdain for the two warriors. With the bandage again in place. Old Jake checked the camp arrangements and then lay down to rest while he waited for darkness. At dusk he arose, and built a small campfire over which the evening’s food was cooked. Both of the wounded men ate greedily, as if they had not eaten in a long time. It was a good sign. As the fire died, Gray Wolf began talking.

“He say, must go. Hurry” translated Deer Woman.

“Yep. Caught that from the g.”

“He say, we go. Four suns. His camp. Get help. Tribe come. Kill bad whites.”

“Whut’s he say about Little Bear? Can’t push too hard and kill him.”

“Little Bear know. Him want to kill white man. Not afraid.”

“Yep. Wal I reckon we’ll go at our own time. If’n Gray Wolfs in such an all-fired hurry, he kin go by himself.”

Gray Wolfs face betrayed the anger, uncertainty, determination and fear all mixed together. He couldn’t know that Old Jake had his own score to settle with John Ransom. The difference was that Old Jake was patient enough to wait and pick his own time and place.

In the morning Gray Wolf was gone. He had taken a small amount of food and his pony, but no weapons. Old Jake had been careful to keep the rifle and knives near him during the night. He knew where the Indian was going, but not what sort of reception to expect when he returned with warriors from his tribe. They could only hope that the presence of Little Bear would result in safe age.

They traveled nearly four days before they met the returning war party. Each day was pretty much the same as the previous one with the exception that the land changed. The mountains on each side grew taller. There was more snow on the tops of the mountains and the rolling, sage covered hills and grass valleys were replaced by steeper, rockier slopes leading to a narrowing of the valley. Here the trail became more difficult as they followed the river through the at the end of the valley they had been traversing.

When they reached the top flanked by mountains, that Deer Woman assured the trapper were Medicine mountains, they descended a trail that led to an even broader valley known as North Park to the trappers and explorers. Here was grass and water and game, and it was here that they met the returning Ute war party.

The arrival of the Utes was heralded by younger warriors brandishing lances, rifles, bows or war clubs appropriate to each owner, and shrill cries announcing their intentions. The rode rapidly to Old Jake’s group and surround edit quickly. The trapper rode warily forward, fully recognizing that this part of the procedure was really show. They were young bucks anxious to show their bravery, but not old enough to have distinguished themselves in battle nor shown their leadership. The real test would come with the more experienced warriors who

followed.

A short, powerfully built warrior with Gray Wolf at his side led the main group. His face showed neither friendliness nor dislike. It was merely neutral. Raising one hand, he halted the group and sat examining the small party. At a nod, two of the older braves moved to Little Bear, and began removing his bindings. The leader continued to examine Old Jake and Deer Woman. Cub received special attention. He was greeted gravely, and the first flicker of emotion crossed the leaders face. He then began to speak in a low, clear voice. Deer Woman relayed the translation.

“Greetings, brother. You true friend of Ute. You come our village. Rest. Be safe.” Without waiting for an answer, he waved five of the older braves forward to Little Bear and then led the rest around the group on the trail. They did not look back.

“A determined war party,” thought Old Jake.

Three of the five remaining men flanked Old Jake’s party, and the other two took over the task of leading and caring for the horse and travois. They did not travel far. Rather, they moved to a camp near the river that was apparently well known to the Indian’s. Camp was quickly made without wasted motion, and food prepared. The Braves were unsure of the status of Deer Woman, and avoided placing any of the tasks on her. For her part, she ignored them, and went about her tasks as if they didn’t exist.

The Indians were equally efficient after the meal was eaten. They simply assigned a guard, and rolled into their blankets and robes to sleep.

In the morning, preparations for the trail took much less time than before, and they were on the trail early. If Gray Wolfs estimate of the distance to the village was correct, they should reach it by nightfall. Travel down the broad park was easy and pleasant without the worry of attack provided by the escorting Utes. The day’s travel went quickly and uneventfully. Big Jake’s disdain for Indians in general was kept under control by the trapper, but it was the only real cause for watchfulness. His urge to damage, mutilate or destroy any of them within reach was never far from the surface of his actions.

By nightfall they did, indeed, see the Ute village. It was situated on the western edge of the Park in the tall timber that characterized these mountains. On the mountains above the village was the peculiar rock outcrop that had become known as the rabbit ears. Old Jake knew that this feature marked the that connected North Park with another large river valley that led west to the mountains to the east of the great basin that held a lake containing salt water. Again, he thought of how much he had become part of this magnificent land, and how much it had become a part of him. He would die here in this great land.

The village was well organized, and had been in place for many days. Apparently, it was a summer hunting camp. There were hides of deer, elk, and buffalo in various stages of preparation for life of the nomadic tribe. The camp also had the appearance of cheerfulness and sociability. All signs of successful hunting and full bellies demonstrated the success of the tribe.

The approach of the group was noted from a distance, and the young boys mounted ponies, and raced to greet the returning men. They were overcome with eagerness to hear the latest news and curiosity to see the newcomers to their village.

They were followed by a crowd of younger children, anxious to be a part of a new and important event in the life of the village, but shy enough to avoid being first to greet the visitors. Their shrill cries adding to those of the mounted boys,

giving a festive mood to the whole affair. The family of the wounded warrior also moved toward the approaching group. The families of the warriors killed by the traders stayed by their lodges mourning their loss. It was a mixed reception. Old Jake counted 31 lodges. That meant over 100 warriors. A large village, but 25 of those warriors were traveling north in search of renegade traders. Old Jake had no doubt there would be other lodges mourning their dead before the matter was over.

They were met within the village by an old man with white hair and a deeply lined face who addressed not only the travelers but the entire village. Deer Woman’s translation was crude, but combined with the sign language said:

“Your return of this, our son, and the life of Gray Wolf makes our hearts glad.

You are truly one of our people to give back this life and that of our brother Gray Wolf.

As long as the sun shall rise, you are one of us, and may share our village. We ask that you stay with us, and bring the favor of the Great Spirit on these people as you have done with your acts of kindness.”

Old Jake’s response was:

“May it be as you say for me and this, my woman, and may we ever honor our brothers in this village.” The three travelers were quickly surrounded by smiling Utes who assisted them with the mule’s saddles and packs. Everything was taken to a lodge next to that of the old man who had greeted them. It had been recently vacated, and prepared for them by all appearances. Gray Wolf had apparently

spread the word during the short time he was in the village. The old man had asked that they honor his lodge with their presence when they had completed the preparations for their stay.

Cub adapted quickly to the village life. The welcome by the Utes had made him afraid at first, but his memories of life in his father’s camp had quickly returned. The invitation of the Ute children and encouragement of the women had led him to the children’s activities within a short time. Big Jake had been another matter. Every effort to approach him on the part of the Utes young and old, was met by threats of teeth and hooves. When Old Jake finally got the attention of some of the older men, he explained that the mule would need to be cared for only by himself or Deer Woman. And it would be necessary to keep the mules from the horse herd. The five older braves who had served as escorts ed the discussion, and confirmed Old Jake’s explanation.

It was at that point that Cub entered the activity. He walked to Big Jake, and attached himself to his foreleg. While the mule remained alert to the forming crowd, he took no action to dislodge his diminutive friend. The gasps, ooh’s, and aah’s of the watching Utes produced the desired result on the boy. He strutted proudly about the mule in his best warrior fashion. That broke the reserve and concern that had built up.

The Indians broke into laughter, and with good natured pointing and jibes at the boy began to move back to camp routine. Old Jake hobbled the mules away from the horse herd. They would be watched by the village boys.

Returning to the lodge, he spent some time assisting Deer Woman move their meager possessions inside and prepare for the night. His activities were viewed with considerable amusement by the Ute squaws, and distinct disapproval by the Ute men.

That it was considered women’s work did not bother him. He had been doing his own domestic chores for 15 years, and the uncertain status of Deer Woman would not change that fact.

At dusk, they were summoned to the lodge of the old man who had welcomed them to camp. When they entered, they found the old man seated before a small fire that consisted mostly of coals. The women of the household were either seated or engaged in the tasks of preparing the food. Old Jake seated himself directly across the fire from the old man. Deer Woman and Cub ed the women.

“Welcome. I am called Gray Hawk. How are you called?”

“I am Old Jake, the woman is Deer Woman, and the boy is Little Bear, just as the wounded man of your village. Cub, I call him”

“Ahh-It is a good name, Little Bear. We will smoke and talk.” Old Jake sighed.

The pipe he could abide, but he did not relish the storytelling that he knew must come.

Stories of the prowess of the tellers would have to be recounted, and he was expected to add to the stories. However, there was nothing for it but to in. With the ritual pipe and observance of prayers to the Spirits, he listened to a rather lengthy recital by Gray Hawk. Actually, the old man varied the procedure to the extent that he recounted more of the history of the tribe rather than personal exploits. Old Jake realized that he was being politely taught something of the tribe, rather than being impressed by the nature of the teller.

The stories were punctuated by food served from the roasting racks and the pot. The pot was always a problem for Big Jake. He had never been able to ignore or enjoy the unknown cuts of meat and sundry roots and leaves added to these pots. Nor had he developed a taste for such delicacies as partly roasted intestine complete with their contents, or the liquid contents of the stomach. He had spent too many years on the farm eating his wife’s fare. At this time of year with daily hunting going on, he could be relatively certain that better cuts of meat would predominate, but the rest of the pot’s contents were uncertain. He was not disappointed in his prediction. But he managed to eat a respectable amount to avoid offending his host. He would have much preferred his own cooking, despite the fact that during his life in the mountains there had been lean times when he had eaten the very things that bothered him in the pot. These things included rodents like the marmot killed on the mountain. Deer Woman, eating with the women and children seemed to enjoy the meal immensely.

The night ed quickly enough before Old Jake and his two charges retired to their lodge. The Old Man, Gray Hawk, proved to be an excellent storyteller and host, and Old Jake actually enjoyed the “lessons” provided. He awoke before dawn as was his habit to the usual night noises of an Indian camp. The occasional barking dog answered by others, night bird calls, coughing individuals, crying babies and the usual horse noises. He started the fire, and boiled water to use for a breakfast of corn and slabs of antelope meat. He also ground a small amount of the coffee beans obtained from the trader in preparation for a treat long denied him. Deer Woman, sensing the activity, had risen, and begun her mornings preparation. Water from the stream, more wood for the fire and assistance with the food preparation were all part of the routine. Later she would engage in the more serious business of gathering food—berries, nuts, roots and herbs. But for now she and the trapper were more satisfied with the leisurely pace suited to the waking up process.

Deer Woman’s movements were not unnoticed, however. Old Jake’s gaze moved frequently to her, and his face softened. He knew he had grown fond of her— more fond than just the comradeship of shared danger and enforced

companionship. Nor was it gratitude for the lifesaving activities during their flight. And finally he itted to himself that his affection had grown to the point where he did not want to be separated from her. His thoughts ran

“Can Ah love this woman?”

“At my age?”

“Does she care? She ain’t showed any feelin’s fer me.”

“Whut can I do? Thar ain’t no preacher, even if she agreed to marry with me.”

“Whut if she leaves when we git to her people?”

“Wal, Ah’lI jest hafto wait and see” Old Jake was a patient man.

While he was waiting for the coffee to boil, he savored the aroma he had not enjoyed in many months. It was at that time that Gray Hawk emerged from his lodge to relieve himself. When he returned, Old Jake signed an offer to share his coffee as a sign of hospitality. Seating himself in front of the lodge, Gray Hawk gravely accepted the mug, and imitating the trapper sipped the hot liquid. Immediately, his face betrayed his distaste for the bitter brew. He recovered quickly, and politely finished the mug. Smiling his thanks he prepared to return to his lodge. Before leaving, however, he informed Old Jake that a hunting party would leave soon, and the trapper was invited to them. He accepted readily. The meat would be welcome, and they needed hides for a variety of purposes

including trading.

Old Jake ed the hunters on Big Jake leading the two pack jennys. The hunting party was made up mostly of the older men since the younger warriors were on the trail northward in search of the renegade traders. They headed eastward toward the open areas of North Park. They were in search of the buffalo that inhabited this large valley.

While not as numerous as those on the great plains to the east of the mountains, there were small herds in this high mountain region.

It was nearly noon before they spotted the first signs of buffalo. The circling birds, dust and movement betrayed their location. The hunters favorite buffalo horses were readied, lances, bows, arrows and the few rifles available made ready. The packhorses were left to the care of the women, who would do the work of skinning and butchering.

The hunters began their approach carefully, circling to attain a downwind position, and began to move in on the small herd. There were not more than 12 or 15 animals in the herd. The slow careful approach of the hunters on horseback did not alarm them until they were within a short distance of them. The buffalo began to circle, and trotted slowly away. It was at that point that the hunters jumped their buffalo runners into full gallop, and overtook the herd. Old Jack pushed Big Jake into a gallop that quickly put him alongside a large cow. He aimed the Hawken at her heart from point-blank range from the running mule and fired. He had the satisfaction of seeing the cow stagger and sink to her knees. Without pausing, he drew the second rifle and raced after a fleeing bull. The chase was quickly over. A second well-placed ball took the bull in the chest cavity, and after a blood splashing run of 200 paces, he too sank to the ground, and finally became still.

Old Jake turned Big Jake and stopped to reload both rifles while the mule regained his wind. The squaws with the pack animals were standing on the small knoll above the killing ground singing a shrill song of victory for the hunt. They were preparing to descend to the downed buffalo. Old Jake returned to the cow he had shot, dismounted and prepared to skin it. By the time he had started the process of slitting around the cape and down the belly to each leg, the women had arrived. Two of the squaws ed Old Jake, and made short work of the skinning. It was made easier with the help of the mules. They were in a festive mood. Laughing, singing and all the while working. The trapper had seen similar parties before, but he never ceased to be amazed by the skill and good-natured hard work of these women. Their strength rivaled that of the best of the warriors.

Old Jake realized he was out of his element. There was simply no way he could compete with these women. For their part, the women ignored him, except to exclaim loudly at the wonder of the kill and magnificence of the animal. It was their job. Old Jake retired to the mules to watch.

Each carcass was marked for the warrior that had killed it. The hides were used as a place to store the meat. The delicacies-brains, heart, liver, stomach and intestines were placed separately in anticipation of the warriors who would eat the more perishable parts raw upon their return. The work was not without cost. The women were quickly covered with blood, gore, dirt and the inevitable flies that went with this work. Despite these things, the skill, experience and efficiency of the squaws kept all these things to a minimum.

By the time the hunters returned on tired horses the women were completing the task of cutting the buffalo into pieces that could be moved back to the camp. Nothing was wasted. Everything would be used for food, clothing, housing and utensils. The arrival of the hunters delayed everything while they gorged themselves on the delicacies

—bights—and rested. They had killed one more of the herd during their chase,

and four of the women departed to butcher and return the kill. When everything was assembled, they began the long trek back to the village. Since there was more meat and hides than the pack horses could carry, the squaws were forced to carry the rest in packs on their backs. No self-respecting warrior would allow his buffalo runner to be used as a pack animal. They were much too valuable to risk in that way. Bearing their bloody, slippery burdens and fighting the ever-present flies and heat of the long afternoon, the squaws trudged on without apparent complaint. You could be sure, however, that there would be a Lame Dance on their return.

When they did return in the long twilight hours of mid-summer, Old Jake faced a new and unexpected problem. The hunters had been spared the need to camp overnight by the march, and were received with rejoicing for the successful hunt. Preparations had been made for feasting and dancing, even before they returned, based on word carried ahead by some of the younger hunters. Old Jake, however, was disturbed to find Deer Woman and Cub seated at the entrance of the lodge— isolated by the rest of the women and children.

“Deer Woman, why yuh sittin’ here? We brung meat an’ hides.”

“Must talk. Go in teepee.’ When he entered the lodge, he noticed that she had not gathered food as expected. Rather, it was apparent she had spent the day in the lodge working on clothes from the cloth obtained from the trader and the few hides they possessed. Once inside she began.

“Me Arapahoe. Ute, Arapahoe much fight. Enemy always. Ute no good. Other Womens no like Deer Woman, Cub. Throw filth on Deer Woman-Cub. Call names. We stay in lodge. Gray Hawk keep women away. We go now?”

“How did them squaws know you was Arapahoe?”

“Women look, ask, I tell them. We go now?”

“Wal, All got to think on that. We got meat and hides to take keer of. We could use some more. Think yuh could last it out, ifn they let us stay a bit?”

“I stay. No like. I stay with Jake when you say stay.”

Jake would have to have a talk with Gray Hawk.

When Old Jake emerged from the lodge the meat and hides had been carefully placed before his lodge, and would stay there until he disposed of them. He knew what he must do. Generosity was expected even by a guest. He walked to the lodge of Gray Hawk, and stood before the entrance. He was forced to wait many minutes before he was recognized from within.

“Ho, White Man. You seek Gray Hawk?”

“Yep. I’m here.”

“You may enter.”

He entered the tipi flap to find Gray Hawk seated in the seat he had taken the night before. Old Jake signed his request.

“I have come to seek the wisdom of the grandfather.”

“What is it you want,” came the reply.

“I seek your wisdom in the sharing of the hunt.”

“Your generosity honors us. What is your desire?” responded Gray Hawk.

“Help me to share with the of the tribe in need.”

“I will you. But you have dishonored the “People of the Blue Sky,” countered Gray Hawk.

“Teach me m mistake, brother.”

“Your woman is of the enemy. You dishonor us by her presence. If she is a slave, she must be instructed in the way of the Ute. If she is your chosen one, you dishonor us with the presence of a hated one,” said Gray Hawk.

“Grandfather, I meant no disrespect. I was ignorant of these matters. But she is my woman, and I must ask that you give her respect while we are here. If it is your wish, we will leave now.”

“No! We cannot permit such a thing. To do so would dishonor us more for our lack of thanks for your kindness and generosity. You remain our brother. The woman will not be harmed.” Gray Hawk signed that the matter was closed, and rose to accompany Old Jake to the meat carefully placed on the two robes.

Two young girls standing watch over the meat were kept busy chasing some of the numerous village dogs away. As they approached, Gray Hawk called the names of those in need. The words were carried throughout the village. Widows, those too old to hunt any longer, crippled and the women whose husbands had recently been killed by the traders came. Each received a share, but not more than was polite. When everyone withdrew, it was Deer Woman’s turn. None of the village women ed her, and she smiled to herself. She preferred it that way.

Deer Woman approached her task with no less skill than had been shown by those who butchered the animals from the Ute village. It was a chore she would repeat many more times in her life. The meat was cut and divided into parts, delicacies such as the hump meat to be used immediately for the coming feast, strips for smoking and drying, parts for shredding into trail food, bone for utensils, horns for cups, sinew for sewing.

Everything had a purpose and use. The hides were rolled tightly in preparation for the pegging, scraping and working that would begin in the morning. She worked late into the night.

Meanwhile, the feasting and dancing had begun. The delicacies that Deer Woman had roasted and cooked into a delicious stew were shared only by Old Jake and Cub.

Although Old Jake was invited to share the food of other families, Deer Woman and Cub were shunned. In fact the young boys of the tribe had quickly adopted the attitudes.

Of their elders, and both shunned and taunted the boy. Old Jake spent only the time required for courtesy before returning to the woman and her son.

Once again, she felt the warmness at the thought of the trapper’s concern and consideration. She made her preparations for the night’s sleep carefully. With Cub fast asleep in his robe and Old Jake in his, she disrobed and slipped into the robe close to his.

The fire had died to embers, but was not needed. The day had been hot and the high valley night was warm even for this altitude. She moved across to Old Jake’s robe and wrapped her arms around his thick chest. He did not move away or flinch. Rather he put his arm around her, and stroked her long black hair now free of the day’s braid. They held each other tightly for long moments feeling each other’s loneliness and affection.

And they loved.

Sitting over coffee in the morning Old Jake thought:

“Wal, now we are married. Preacher or no. Course Ah reckon we hev bin in my mind fer some time now. Yep. That’s it. I reckon I knowed it befor. An’ it’s good. Ah jest needed a push from her tuh let me know she’d have me.” When she ed him at the fire she smiled hesitantly, and he took her hand and squeezed it to show her everything was all right. They sat and talked for a long time, and

real love began.

There was no hunt that day. The feasting and dancing had gone too late, and much work was needed on the previous day’s kill. Deer Woman began the work of preparing the meat and pegging and working the much needed hides. There was no time for work on the clothes she had started. That would wait until the next hunt. Old Jake spent time with Cub, cared for the mules and generally puttered about the camp. In the late afternoon, the three of them went to the secluded pool in the stream below the camp and bathed. It was done without self consciousness or undue show. Despite the fact that the water from the mountain stream was cold; it was a pleasant time.

Gray Hawk was waiting by their fire when they returned in the summer dusk.

“We will hunt tomorrow. You may us. Tonight we will talk. Ask for the Great Spirits help. Eat. Gain much strength.” He was being invited to Gray Hawk’s lodge.

“I am honored,” replied Old Jake.

The night began with the traditional prayers and smoke. The talk continued on much the same basis as their first night. Gray Eagle told him about the Old One’s —the ancestor’s of the Ute who had come out of the earth to see the green grass and blue skies of these beloved mountains. They had stayed. They talked of the others, who lived in the houses in the cliffs to the south, and were known as the givers of baskets. These had came to live with the Utes many years before. They also talked of the coming of the “magic dogs” brought to them by the Great Spirit through the white men of the south.

Finally, Gray Hawk spoke of their friends the bears, and the strength given the Utes in battle from this relationship and that of their “magic dogs.” In subsequent evenings, Old Jake would learn of the prowess of the Utes in war with the Arapahoe, Cheyenne, and Shoshoni. Of their friendship with the Apache and their ability to defend this wild, rugged, beautiful land of extremes in the high mountain region they inhabited. But for now, it had been a long night, and Old Jake’s head nodded.

Deer Woman was waiting seated just inside the tipi entrance when he returned.

She had waited patiently for him, not wanting to be alone in the robes. She had spent too many nights that way, and now refused to do so. They spent a long time holding each other tightly feeling the loneliness ebb and the warmth of love grow. Deer Woman marveled again at the tenderness of this man.

The next six days were spent in hunting, and Old Jake’s time was spent in the constant movement and work. He managed to kill four more buffalo and two elk.

While this bounty was beyond his expectations, it was more than they could care for, and it was certainly more than they could carry on their eastward journey. Much of the food was given to the villagers.

On the seventh day, the war party returned from their search for the four renegade traders. It was not a joyous, victorious war party that rode into the village. Four of the braves were stretched across their pony’s backs. Three dead and one badly wounded.

From the story told by the stem faced leader that had met Old Jake on the trail,

the trapper gathered that they had found the traders, but had been disappointed in battle.

The four traders had fired first, killing the three warriors and wounding the fourth. In the return fire and accompanying charge, three of the traders had been killed, but the tall leader with a pistol had escaped on a stud horse that had been too fast for the smaller Indian ponies. The warriors were able to regain most of the ponies and the furs taken during the earlier ambush, but the loss of the three warriors and escape of the leader of the traders had put the war party in a very foul mood. There were muttered comments about white men in general, and angry looks cast at Old Jake. At that point, Gray Hawk rose and spoke at length, recounting Old Jake’s kindness to Little Bear, his prowess and generosity as a hunter and the need for hospitality. His speech quieted the muttering, but it did not entirely disappear. The tribe began to care for the living and dead of the war party.

Old Jake knew the matter was not over, and it was time to move on. It was only a matter of time before the resentment would build to the point where they could expect trouble. Besides, John Ransom would come again, only this time without Zeb. No matter, he could always find more of his kind in this broad frontier country. He quietly informed Deer Woman that they would be leaving in the morning, and she readily agreed with relief showing plainly in her face. When he followed her into the lodge to discuss the arrangements, it was only to be interrupted by loud angry shouts and squealing horses.

As he rushed from the lodge, he saw that the commotion came from near the horse herd. Unknowingly, the war party had turned their horses loose where Big Jake was being held by the young horse herders. He was now busy establishing his dominance over all comers. His efforts were extremely successful, due in no small measure to the help of Jack. That Jack had become one of the group so quickly surprised Old Jake, but there was not time to think about it. No matter, he had to put a stop to their actions before any of the horses were seriously hurt. He ran to the fight where Big Jake’s teeth and hooves backed by his size were

beginning to take effect.

Moving in front of the mule Old Jake began forcing him to one side of the fight. Neither Big Jake nor Jack ceased their efforts to kill, maim or intimidate the Indian ponies, but the number of targets decreased as they were forced away.

The fight stopped as quickly as it started, but when Old Jake turned to make his way back to his lodge he found himself confronted by the leader of the war party. It turned out that his name was Strong Bull, and he was definitely unhappy. His favorite warhorse would soon have two new scars from the wounds produced by Big Jake’s teeth. With the deer flies and mosquitoes common to the season, they would represent a problem even though not serious. Strong Bull began by demanding his right to kill the mules, and continued with a series of threats, insults and taunts against a White Man so stupid, crazy to have such ugly animals fit only to be killed. Old Jake was sure he could beat the muscular but much shorter man in a fair hand to hand fight. He wasn’t so sure, however, in the case of a knife or tomahawk fight. Besides he had left his weapons in the lodge. As the two men crouched and braced for what would come, Old Jake noticed two things. The first was that Deer Woman had arrived with his rifle and knife once again anticipating the need. The other was that Gray Hawk was rapidly approaching the group. When he arrived, he faced Strong Bull and addressed him with a voice that was no longer calm and moderate, but sharp and angry.

“Would you dishonor the Ute people with your lack of self control and pride? Do you think your actions deserve the honor given to a leader of our people? Is your heart so bad that you cannot rise above the small quarrels or the ordinary men? You must show the dignity and generosity of our people if you are truly a leader of them. I will say no more. You must choose.” Strong Bull’s face showed his frustration, anger and understanding at the same time. He accepted the words of Gray Hawk, but without the grace that should have accompanied a great leader’s actions. He turned and walked stiff-legged back to the village. His every action was a protest. Old Jake knew he would do well to avoid this Ute warrior if

possible.

That night he appeared before the lodge of Gray Eagle again. He was greeted and invited to enter. After the pipe and prayers, he addressed the old man.

“Grandfather, me and my squaw must leave in the mornin’. The season grows late, and we have much to do before Old Man Winter comes. We thank you for the time we have been given, and ask your good wishes on our travel.

“It is wise. It shall be so. How do you go?” responded Grey Hawk.

“We will go to the mid-day sun, and across the mountains to my woman’s people.”

“No. It is better we show you a way to the woman’s people in the morning sun. It is quicker. Safer. I will make it so.”

“I accept your wisdom,” replied Old Jake.

“We will welcome your return when you have been with your woman’s people. You are one of us,” said Gray Hawk.

The mules were tethered near the lodge that night both in preparation for the morning and for their protection. When they arose, packing and loading took place quickly. Deer Woman had prepared well. When they mounted and were

ready to leave, Gray Hawk appeared with two older braves horseback.

“We will show you the way.”

Chapter 11

The little party left the village as the sun was rising over the tops of the trees. No one bid them farewell. To do so would have placed them against Strong Bull and his faction. Gray Hawk led the party directly into the sun to the east across the broad valley. They continued eastward until mid-day, and then turned southeastward along one of the many streams that ran into the basin of the North Park to become part of the drainage of the Platte River. They spent the rest of that day and until mid-day of the next crossing the basin into the slope up the over the continental Divide leading down to the headwaters of the Colorado River. The broad valley with its surrounding ring of the mountains was capped with the blue dome of sky so clear Old Jake felt he could see to ends of the earth. The grass drying in the summer sun reached to the horses bellies and the magnificence of the surrounding peaks with their snow caps set the trappers heart soaring. Game could be seen in the distance in almost every direction.

God had made a good place for these men to live. No wonder these tough Utes fought fiercely to defend their right to this land. Old Jake knew he had to make this land part of the vast home he had adopted. Gray Hawk and his two companions seemed to feel the magnificence of their surroundings as well. It was a time of gladness for everyone in the party.

When they reached the bottom of the valley below the , Gray Hawk again turned east until they reached the small stream that was the beginning of the Colorado River. Here was a well worn trail that was easy to see, leading back to the north.

“This trail will take you over the tall mountains to the land of buffalo and the people of your woman. We will camp with you tonight, and return to our people

when the sun comes again. This trail belongs to the Utes. Gray Hawk welcomes you to return when your heart is ready, but do not bring other whites on this trail. It is for Utes.” Old Jake knew this was a bit of fancy. The trail was known to the plains Indians too, who used it as a road to the high mountain hunting grounds and to raid their enemies—the Utes. He didn’t dispute the point. Old Jake had known of this trail from other trappers, but had never been on it before. He had actually intended to travel toward the more well known trail much to the south that ended up on the Arkansas River. It would have brought them to the fort of the Bent brothers. It would have involved crossing much mountainous terrain and a longer period of time, however. He said:

“Brother, there is much wisdom in you, and I surely will return. I thank you.”

In the morning, Old Jake’s little party began winding its way upward toward the high in the range. Gray Eagle watched until they disappeared in the trees, and with a wave of his arm, turned and trotted his horse in the direction taken by his two companions. It would be many moons before he would see Old Jake again. His heart was sad. Here was a man of integrity, kindness, gentleness and yet quiet strength when needed. These qualities came with time, and not to all men. With age and the cooling of blood came the appreciation of them.

The well worn trail they followed led Old Jake, Deer Woman and Cub through spectacularly beautiful high mountain country. The they would cross would be over 12000 feet in elevation. Their trail was surrounded by sheer rock walls towering to heights of as much as 14000 feet, slopes covered with trees and open meadows, crystal clear lakes with snowy borders and busy streams. If he looked closely as they traveled, he could identify a variety of wild flowers from the delicate purple and white columbine to the brilliant red-orange Indian paintbrush. Truly this was country for a man. There were beaver, deer, elk, bear, lions and sheep here as well. He knew better than to consider hunting and trapping in this region. If the Ute considered this to be their trail, they would certainly not look favorably on anyone tresing on their hunting grounds.

But for now, their travel was the stuff good stories around a camp fire were made of.

They camped, that first night, high in the mountains among the trees and under a sky full of stars so brilliant that they appeared to be within reach. Old Jake had chosen a site near a small lake set in an open valley about halfway to the they sought that looked as if it had been used many times for this purpose. The night had turned cold immediately after the sun had gone down, and Old Jake’s fire was welcomed by all three.

For the trapper, it was one of the happiest times of his life. He was in his beloved mountains, his adopted family brought him much joy and comfort, the weather was good and for the time, it seemed that danger was well behind them. Deer Woman and Cub were also well satisfied. Deer Woman was going home to her family and the man she now considered her husband was more that she had ever expected. Cub was just happy because of the mood of everyone else.

They were awakened in the first light of dawn by a chorus of coyotes. Their shrill yapping cries were tossed back and forth by the rocky mountain slopes. The social nature of their serenade did not worry Old Jake. It merely reminded him that it was time to start the day. He arose and restarted the fire in preparation for a warm breakfast. He had decided that they would all do better in the thin, crisp air of the high mountains if they started the day with a good meal. He carefully prepared roasted buffalo and squaw bread with coffee. Deer Woman busied herself with preparing packs and storing camp items. Shortly after the sun topped the mountains, they were loaded and in their saddles moving upward on the trail.

The sun was midway across the sky when they struggled across the . The thin air caused the mules to struggle for breath, and Old Jake and Deer Woman dismounted and walked frequently to rest the animals. They stopped at the to rest and Old Jake looked around. There were actually two more es they

would need to cross before they started down the long eastern slope. These es were connected by ridges that did not require descending great distances. The view was breathtaking. The sheer size of the mountain range itself was beyond his imagination even for someone who had spent many years in the vicinity of the Wind River, Teton and Wasatch and other more westerly mountains. While he had traveled the valleys and lower reaches of the foothills of this range, he had never before straddled it as he did today. The feeling of being on top of the world gripped him.

They crossed the two es that afternoon and started down the eastern side, and the going was much easier. They still had ridges to cross, but none as high as the one they had just left behind them. They did not hurry and when the early evening sun dropped behind the high mountain ridge, they were camped in a small grass covered valley that was watered by a spring fed stream. Again, Old Jake felt the peacefulness and calming effect of this stark mountain land. He knew it could be harsh and dangerous beyond belief, but for now, in this warm summer season, he was content. After the evening meal was completed he indulged in the rare treat or a pipe of tobacco, and sat gazing into the dark night.

“You are happy?” Deer Woman asked shyly. Old Jake placed one gnarled, scarred arm across her shoulders and replied,

“Yep, It’s a grand country. How ’bout you?”

“Better I like my home” as she pointed eastward.

“Wal mebbeso,” he thought. But he also ed crossing those plains from St. Louis in ‘30 when he first came to these mountains. There had been times on that vast prairie that he had felt he was sitting in a vast, flat ocean of grass that stretched as far as he could see in all directions. Without landmarks, he had been

forced to stick to the trails and the Platte River to be sure of food and water supplies. Of course they would have this range of mountains to their back as a reference as long as they did not have to search too far to the east. That they might have to search in that direction was a distinct possibility. At this season the plains tribes would be following the buffalo herds in an effort to increase their hide and food supplies.

“Oh well, Deer Woman did not seem worried. We’ll have tuh see whut happens.”

The third day was much like the second. An unhurried trip down the long slopes alternately bordered by trees and steep, rock cliffs falling away below them. Old Jake continued to marvel at everything from the shapes of trees and flowers, to the twisted patterns of the rock formation, to the puffy, white clouds that seemed to drag themselves through the teeth of the mountains who in turn caused them to drop their light rain showers.

It was on the fourth day that disaster struck the small party. It was mid-morning and air had become warmer than they had experienced at higher elevations. The warmth and monotony of the trail, the nearness to Deer Woman’s people had lured the trapper into a sense of security that was unusual in his normally cautious nature. It started as a flash of movement in the trees to the right and behind him, and suddenly the trail was filled with what must have been 6 or 8 mounted warriors, all raising a war cry. Fighting to control Big Jake and the two pack mules, the last thing he ed was Deer Woman’s cries in a strange language. The stone war club hit him a glancing blow on the side of the head, and swept him unconscious out of the saddle. Cub, left as the sole occupant of Big Jake’s saddle, stared with horror at the sight of the trapper’s body falling to the side of the trail.

Deer Woman fought her way through the warriors, dodging their efforts to either knock her down or trap her, all the while shouting loudly. She dropped to the ground beside Old Jake and defiantly faced the warriors. The fact that she had

survived the initial rush was largely due to the attention that had been directed toward Old Jake, and the skill with which Jack had either avoided or intimidated the Indian ponies.

“I am Spotted Deer Woman, daughter of Badger of Our People. You will suffer his wrath if you harm us.” The name Badger seemed to in the minds of the warriors, and they ceased moving to encircle her.

“Haugh, daughter of Badger, what are you doing coming from the land of the enemy-the Ute? Badger has no daughter. His daughter was killed many summers ago. Why do you travel to our land with this white man?”

“He is my husband. He saved me from the Crow who stole me those many summers ago. Take me to my father, and you will see.”

The argument that erupted was held outside Deer Woman’s hearing. She knelt to tend Old Jake, but she knew what the argument was about.

“Was she telling the truth, or was she merely clever enough to use the right names?”

“Should they kill the white man, and carry the woman away with them?”

“Suppose they were wrong? Badger’s wrath would be great indeed.”

“Should they leave them all, and trust that the matter would not become known now that they had counted coup on the white man?” Deer Woman knew what the answer would be. They would decide not to risk the wrath of a man so important to the Arapahoe as Badger of the Antelope band. They would take them back, and let Badger decide. If, indeed, she were his daughter, he would reward them richly. If not, he would give her to them anyway. She had known immediately that the attackers were Arapahoe by their dress and war paint. What she didn’t know was what they were doing on this trail. She had trusted that her shouts in their tongue would slow their attack. Now she was confident they would not harm them for the time being.

She continued her examination of Old Jake and satisfied herself that no bones were broken. They must camp, and wait until he regained consciousness. But first she would retrieve Cub. Big Jake had retreated part way up the slope with the two jennys.

Now he stood defiantly facing the war party and their hated ponies with Cub, as firmly attached to his saddle as a burr. The woman was allowed to approach without causing a problem. However, when she lifted Cub from the saddle, he decided it was time to assert his authority. He nipped her heartily on the backside. The yelp of pain and leap forward was most satisfying to the mule. As for Deer Woman, she decided it would be wiser not to fight without Old Jake. She gingerly tied the mule to the nearest tree, and went back to Old Jake alone. Cub refused to leave the protection of Big Jake. He clung steadfastly to Big Jake’s front leg. Ignoring the Aprahoe warriors, Deer Woman began making camp, and continued to minister to Old Jake. She covered him with a buffalo robe. She also continued the task of setting up camp while the eight warriors squatted at the edge of the trees to watch. Two of them wandered off to examine Big Jake and the packs on Jeanette and Janet. They were promptly chased away by Big Jake’s threats to remove their scalps. They were used to horses and their habits, but this was a new experience for them. They remained at a respectful distance after their first encounter.

Deer Woman completed the camp arrangements including a cooking fire, and began preparation of the evening meal. It would be a typical stew of boiled meat, roots and wild vegetables gathered along the trail. Preparation of the food attracted a great deal of interest on the part of the Arapahoe. Their food had consisted of jerky and parched corn, and the smell of hot, fresh buffalo stew was more than they could bear.

Deer Woman, however, refused to give them any of the contents of the pot until she had fed Cub, eaten some, and attempted to spoon some of the mix into Old Jake before permitting them to taste the food. They devoured the remnants rapidly with much smacking of lips.

It took a long time for Old Jake to regain consciousness, and he did so silently.

The pain in his head was blinding at times. White hot lances shot through his skull causing dizziness and nausea. When he could see, it was as if he had had too much to drink. He became panicked by the fuzziness of his sight, and tried to rub his eyes. Deer Woman’s presence swam into his vision and he calmed somewhat. She wiped his face and the egg sized lump gently with a wet cloth. The coolness calmed him further and he lay back quietly.

“Cain’t see good, Deer Woman.”

“Must rest. Eat. Not move” she replied.

“Whut about the Indians? Whar are they? What happened?”

“They here. Arapahoe. I tell them my father Arapahoe. They wait. Not sure.”

“Cub. Is he safe?”

“Him stay Big Jake. Not hurt.”

“How ’bout you?”

“Not hurt. Not touch daughter of Badger.” He closed his eyes and rested. It seemed that he was very tired.

Cub, hearing the man’s voice, and realizing he was alive had given up the protection of Big Jake, and ed Deer Woman at the side of the trapper. His eyes were big with concern for Old Jake and fear of the warriors who had spread their robes and posted guards for the night. His mother spoke quickly to him,

“Watch the man. If his eyes open or he starts to move, call me.”

“I will do so” he replied gravely, proud of the fact that he was given a part in caring for his friend. Deer Woman produced Indian turnip from her bag of herbs and began grinding them to powder. They would help to ease the pain in Old Jake’s head.

When it was mixed with warm water, she gave as much as he could drink to the trapper.

He sank into sleep again. She could do no more, and with Cub at her side, they ed him in the sleeping robes.

She awoke frequently during the night to touch the man and reassure herself that his breathing continued, and his heart was strong. In the morning, they were awakened by one of the warriors standing over them and calling loudly for her to rise and prepare for the trail:

“We must be gone. Our enemy, the Ute, may find us here.”

“We cannot travel unless my husband is well.”

“You must go with us now. If the white man dies, so be it. We may kill him when we see Badger anyway.”

“Ha. What kind of Arapahoe warriors are you? This man has just kept us safe from the Ute for many suns, and you wish to run away. We will not go until it is safe for him.” Deer Woman remained steadfast against further argument and continued to question the bravery of the eight braves. They finally returned to the edge of the clearing, and continued to cast black looks in the direction of the three. Again guards were sent out, and the party settled down to an uneasy day.

For her part, Deer Woman continued her duties of caring for the trapper, the mules and the camp. Once, during the morning, she noticed the trapper’s eyes were open.

“You are well, my husband?”

“Cain’t see yuh good, gal. So tired. Gotta get some sleep.” When she wiped his face and chest, he was asleep again. But she did notice his breathing was deeper and seemed a bit stronger.

“Good, he will us from the land of the of dreams again,” she thought.

The following morning, Old Jake was awake when Deer Woman arose, and fed the coals of last night’s fire. It was a good sign. What was not good was the approach of the Arapahoe warriors when they had finished their morning meal.

“We go—NOW!” said the leader, adding emphasis with his lance. Deer Woman knew she could no longer either shame or threaten them with her father’s power. They must go. The fact that Old Jake had eaten well encouraged her that he could safely travel. She had also given him more of the Indian turnip broth, and now she asked the Great Spirit for the strength he would need. At the approach of the warriors Cub scurried to Big Jake, and refused to leave him.

“It shall be as you say.” she replied.

Packing and loading took longer on this morning. When Old Jake rose to the preparations, he found that when he bent over and then stood erect a stabbing pain began in the back of his head and ran to his right eye, almost blinding him, and making him want to puke. With the recurrence of blurred vision, he had a tendency to wander in the wrong direction. In all, his “help” probably cost more

time than it was worth.

Mounted and on the trail, the trapper presented more problems. His blurring vision, periods of dizziness and pain caused wandering excursions off the trail. Finally, Deer Woman took Big Jake’s lead rope, and moved ahead with Jack. That was not acceptable to Big Jake. He rebelled completely, threatening to disrupt the entire party.

He was not going to follow anyone. In her anxiety to avoid trouble for any of her loved ones, Deer Woman placed Cub on Big Jake with reins in his hands, and gave him instructions to follow the trail. At two years of age, it was a big responsibility, but Cub gloried in his role. The bond between the boy and the mule helped.

Despite the efforts of the woman, they were forced to camp in the foothills that night. Old Jake had slumped in the saddle most of the afternoon, wavering between consciousness and the darkness brought on by the pain in his head. When they reached the campsite, he slid from the mule and sank to the ground— immediately asleep. Once again Deer Woman was faced with the task of completing the camp chores. She ed the trapper in the robes soon after the evening meal, and the mules had been taken care of. The night was warmer than they had previously experienced in the mountains. Much warmer at these lower elevations. The plains in the late July sun would be very hot. Still the robes would be needed in the coolness of the morning. For now, she slept without cover and in only the lightest of clothes. He slept through the night with Cub close at his side.

Old Jake’s condition had improved significantly by morning. With the exception of periodic dizzy spells and an occasional head pain, he was able to Deer Woman in the morning chores with good effect. Their Indian “captors” only had to wait a short period of time for the three to complete preparations for the trail. A short time later they were winding their way around the foothills on their way

to the plains.

“Why’re them braves in sech an all fired hurry, Deer Woman?” asked Old Jake as they began moving.

“Afraid Ute come. Much fight. Not want to fight here,” she answered.

“Whar they takin us?” he asked again.

“Go to camp of their fathers. Not same as my father. But they of Our People.”

“Kin yuh ask ’em for my rifle and knife back?” he said.

“No. Braves not sure we say straight words. Not sure I am daughter of Badger. Must talk to old men. Talk to my father,” she explained.

“What happens if they don’t know yuh?” he asked.

“Not know. Maybe kill you. Maybe make you go ‘way to Utes. Make Deer Woman slave. Not know,” she answered.

“Wal, we’ll see ’bout that, girl,” he commented again. As he rode, he thought back over that past few days. At least as much as he ed. The mountain

crossing had been one of the best times of his life. The encounter with the Arapahoe had been so quick and short-lived, he had very little recollection of it. The next day and night was very fragmentary. Now, they were about to leave these mountains, and the sanctuary they had sought was in serious doubt. He could understand the Arapahoes concern and doubt about their ties with their Ute enemies. He could also understand their fear of the Ute, and their desire for Old Jake’s goods and woman. The question was what to do about it.

“Oh, Wal, one thing yuh learn in these here mountains, yuh wait an see what cards is dealt. Then yuh play ’em.” He would wait for his opportunity.

As the day progressed, the braves gained confidence. They were beginning to worry less about marauding parties of Utes. By the time they could see the broad brown and yellow plains in the distance, they had become more demanding. It became clear that they wished to reach their home camp before night fell, and they would push to reach that goal. When one of them threatened to hit Deer Woman with his whip for moving too slow, Old Jake rode between them, and stared evenly at the young man. Rather than risk a fight at this time, the brave rode away, but he shouted angry words over his shoulder.

“Whut’d he say, Deer Woman?” he asked.

“Him say wait until we come to camp. You will see who are real warriors. Him make big trouble.”

“Yep. Thot so.”

Chapter 12

The sun had made its way half-way down the western sky and the heat of the afternoon had caused people and animals alike to sweat profusely when they saw their first signs of the camp. Smoke from the drying fires, dust from the horse herd and birds could be seen in the distance. The camp was located in a stand of cotton woods and willow along the stream that they had been following down the east side of the mountain range, and that provided life for the patches of trees and grass along its banks. The stream had started high in the mountains they had traversed and wound its way downward past tall rock topped peaks that still held snow, through narrow, steep-sided gorges and, more recently, through a broader, grassed valley ringed with mountains that sured in beauty anything they had seen. Its clear water still held the coldness of the high country, and Old Jake knew the Indians had chosen well this site a short distance from the mountains themselves. As they came closer, the camp noises came to greet them. The invariable barking dogs, the shrill children’s voices, ponies bickering and the occasional adult voice shouting a question or request. And then there was the rush of the young men and children riding and running to greet the returning warriors. The pride of the warriors did not permit them to acknowledge the acclamation given by the young escort for having returning with three captives. Their stories would come later, with proper ceremony and before the elders.

Old Jake ignored the confusion and noise, while Deer Woman smiled happily at recognizing the sights and sounds of people like her own. The trapper observed the camp closely.

“Better’n usual” he thought. “Seems like they was hard workin’ folk an’ had same sense about ’em.” The camp was well laid out with the lodges in a circle with an opening to the east located upstream and horse herd below. Drying racks and hides where both could be tended by the women. There was a large council lodge in the center of the circle to which the warriors rode as they entered camp.

Weapons were in sight but none were being carried. Apparently, the hunting had been good and hunger was not a problem. But, then, it was mid-summer when game was easy to get.

Winter would tell another story. The camp had been in place for many days. The hunt must be done some distance away. That meant more of the braves were absent from camp, a fact worth noting, if it became necessary to find a way to leave camp in a hurry.

They were taken to one of the lodges whose only occupant was an old woman. She examined them curiously, but otherwise ignored their presence. Once again the trouble began when the Arapahoe attempted to approach Big Jake and lead him away.

The mule was magnificent in his defense of himself and the other three animals. Deer Woman rushed to the warriors shouting in their tongue, and Old Jake was permitted to return and tether the mules. Their possessions, with the exception of weapons, were stored in the lodge, and it was made clear to Old Jake and Deer Woman that they were not to leave the lodge until summoned. Deer Woman’s attempts to enter into talks with the old woman proved to be less than satisfactory;

“Grandmother: you are of the People. Which village is this?” asked Deer Woman.

“Do not call me Grandmother, I know you not.”

“I am Spotted Deer. Daughter of Badger,” said Deer Woman.

“An easy tale. How do we know you are not of the Ute? Only Badger and his people can know these things. Besides you are a white man’s woman.”

“It is true. You will see. When will Badger come? What will happen to us?” asked Deer Woman.

“I do not know these things. The council will decide. Now do not trouble me with your useless questions.” That ended the conversation, if such it could be called.

The old woman retreated into silence, and refused any further attempts at talk. The remainder of the time was spent in aimless puttering with their stores and equipment, and watching the village activities through the tipi opening, Cub occupied himself with his collection of small articles acquired in their journeys, and eating. It was a difficult time. If they were to be held in this manner for long, it would be very difficult for people who were used to the travel and bustle of the hunt of the past weeks.

It was well after Old Jake, Deer Woman and Cub had eaten their evening meal when two of the older braves approached the tipi from the large central lodge where a lengthy council had been going on with their captors.

“Haugh, white man. We talk.”

“Talk tuh my wife. She’s ‘Rapahoe.” The visitors switched to Arapahoe, and began a lengthy explanation with much gesturing and ceremony.

“They speak. Warriors who find us want take mules, all things, Walking Bull speak I am his. Must go his tipi. Old man know story of Badger’s daughter. Not sure I am same. Council say no. We wait for Badger. But Deer Woman go to lodge of single women. Stay ’til Badger come. You stay camp. Not run away.” Her eyes were pleading now.

“Ain’t goin nowhar without you” he replied. “How ’bout Badger? When’s he comin?”

“He come five sleeps. Come from lands of Wind River. Him hunt and stay with Our People in North. Come after five sleeps when moon come back.”

“Damn.” Thought Old Jake. “The gal’s father wuz just over the range of mountains whar we lit out on this internal trip. Could even hev missed ’em on the Sweetwater trail. Wal new moon wuz oney a few days off.”

“Whut about huntin’gal? Kin, Ahgit my rifle an’ hunt sum.”

“No. All things put in council lodge. Keep til Badger come.”

“Shore hope this Badger knows yuh.”

Deer Woman was taken to the tipi of the women, while Old Jake and Cub were left with the old woman who still had not told them her name. Cub was of no consequence to the warriors. He was part Crow if the woman’s story were true.

In the custom of the Arapahoe, he would have been raised by the grandparents if the situation were more normal, and would not have entered into the consideration of the warrior’s claims. Old Jake knew there nothing he could do for the time being and remained silent, but Cub whimpered until scolded by the old woman. From that going on, the boy moved to Big Jake, and followed him closely at all times. When they had relieved themselves under the watchful eye of several young braves who happened to be near their tipi at all times, they crawled into their robes for the night. Cub clung closely to the trapper, and was rewarded by being encircled with one well-muscled arm.

In the morning, Old Jake awoke in the gray dawn to the sounds of the old woman moving about making the morning meal. He observed her closely, and then decided that he would prepare his own. The many unknown items being dumped and sprinkled in the pot did not please him. His stomach turned at the thought, and he arose. Cub was immediately at his side. They walked out of the tipi, stretching, looking for the morning sun and were greeted by the ever-present warrior watchdogs.

Relieving themselves, they returned to the tipi, and rummaged through their remaining food supplies. He decided on using some of the flour for squaw bread and buffalo strips with a small amount of coffee. He wished he had some eggs, but it was a familiar wish that remained unfulfilled, except on those occasions when he could find a nest of fresh ones from one the nesting birds.

The smell of the cooking food caused the old woman to mutter and cast sullen looks at the two. She spooned food from the pot, and ate without enthusiasm. Old Jake and Cub, on the other hand, began eating their meal heartily and without reservation. Despite the toughness of the buffalo meat, Cub chewed manfully, and made noises of enjoyment which brought more sullen, envious looks from the old woman. At that point, Old Jake took a bit of each of the food to the woman, and offered them. She took it eagerly. Chewing with teeth worn from the work of eating and working skins, she too showed the relish of the other two. They had a new friend.

After the meal, with nothing else to do, Old Jake and Cub wandered out to the horse herd, and found Big Jake and the other mules. All the while, they were trailed by the ever-present warriors. They spent time brushing and caring for the mules who pretended indifference, but showed signs of preening under the care. Later in the morning, Old Jake noted Deer Woman leaving camp with the other women. They were carrying baskets to gather nuts and berries. He felt the sudden need for her, and knew he must not lose her.

When the women returned late in the afternoon with laden baskets, the trapper noted that Deer Woman went to the Council lodge and returned with some of the buffalo meat stored there as a part of Old Jake’s goods. The meat would be ground with the berries and nuts to be stored in fat for use during the long winter. Again, Old Jake felt his iration for this woman rise within him.

The remainder of the days until Badger came were spent in much the same way. The bond between Old Jake and Cub spread and grew.

On the fifth day Badger arrived with fanfare. The first indication came from the Coyote Men stationed on hills around the camp as watchmen. Their alarm sent the younger braves racing for their horses to gallop out in the direction of the approaching travelers. It became readily obvious that it was a very large group that had been sighted. Dust clouds billowed over the horizon indicating the movement of many people and animals. It was not long before one of the riders returned with the news that it was indeed the Antelope people. The entire village erupted. There would be dancing, feasting, gambling and news to exchange. Excitement ran high. For Old Jake, Deer Woman and Cub it meant the chance for freedom from the separation and restriction enforced on them.

It was many hours before the Antelope people drew near. With such a large group, in excess of 100 lodges, it was necessary to make their camp a

respectable distance away. The swirl and bustle of activity involved was actually a well organized effort directed by camp policemen, and resulted in the same circular arrangement as

Old Jake had observed in the camp of his captors. No effort was made to put forth Deer Woman’s claim of relationship to Badger. That must await the proper time and place. The elders would arrange such business matters.

Old Jake was not invited to the festivities. In fact, his efforts to wander in the direction of the new camp were blocked by the braves assigned the task of watching him. He was force to watch and listen from the tipi. The noise of the dancing, drums and voices lasted late into the night. No word came for the trapper.

The following morning the camp was filled with revelers who had overindulged and over exerted themselves. Nothing moved except Old Jake, the old woman and Cub until the sun was high in the eastern sky. By now, the old woman was thoroughly hooked on Old Jake’s cooking. She followed the two chattering incessantly. Neither of them understood a word she said; however, she was not deferred. It had almost been better when she maintained a sullen silence.

Deer Woman, on the other hand, had been surrounded by women whose language she understood, but who no longer shared the same interests. None of these women, young or old, currently had husbands. Their concerns involved acquiring men to them, and food and shelter given by other families. Deer Woman had ed in the work of gathering the fruit, nuts and wild vegetables that went to make up the mix of meat and other items that were formed in cakes of pemmican and stored in congealed fat. Her efforts had been quite successful, and resulted in reducing their stores of meat to a bare minimum. They would need to replenish the stock soon.

The sun had reached its midpoint of daily travel when the elders of the council came for Old Jake. They had brought Deer Woman with them, but when Old Jake and Cub moved to go to her they were again stopped. Horses were brought to the braves by the young horse herders, but the three were forced to walk the nearly one mile distance. Walking Bull followed, very much in attendance. It was not a difficult walk, and Old Jake welcomed the exercise. The status accorded them, however, rankled him.

“Things better start changin’ soon, or I need to think on how we kin be gittin outta here”, he thought. “Need tuh talk tuh Deer Woman bout how we git our rifles an stock out.” When they reached the Antelope camp, they walked to one of the larger tipis with a number of horses tethered near by. Apparently, Deer Woman’s father had amassed considerable wealth by Indian standards. They stood before the opening until a slightly taller than average Arapaho brave with liberal amounts of gray in his jet black hair stepped out. His hair was braided but unadorned as were the excellently made and carefully stitched buckskins he wore. The only bit of decoration anywhere on him was a series of silver hawk bells fastened to the tops of his knee length and folded mocassins. He was accompanied by a woman who was shorter, of a similar age and also of striking appearance. They were both erect in bearing despite their age. An impressive man in any setting in Old Jake’s opinion.

“We see you, Badger. We have a matter of importance to discuss with you.”

“I see you men of the Ugly Man. What is it you wish?” Badger asked.

“Our warriors have captured this man with a woman and child. They have much wealth in mules, guns and goods. The woman is much favored by Walking Bull who counted coup on the man, and he asks for his right to her and the man’s wealth.”

“Why do you bring this matter to me? Surely you can settle this within your council,” responded Badger.

“Badger, the woman claims this man as her husband, and further claims she is the daughter you lost to a Crow war party many summers since.”

“Waugh. Is it so?” Badger had visibly stiffened and his wife came alive with interest and hope in her eyes.

“Bring this woman forward that we may talk to her.” As Deer Woman moved to the Antelope brave, Walking Bull followed close behind. He would press his claim.

“How do I know you, woman who walks with pride?” Badger asked. He was answered by his wife who became more animated and spoke rapidly.

“This is my flesh, Spotted Deer. I know her. If you look closely you can see too. She has become a woman to be proud of since last we saw her.”

“Waugh. It is truly so. You have come back to us. Our hearts are glad. We welcome you.”

“NO!” shouted Walking Bull. “I have counted coup on this man. Defeated him in battle. I demand my right to all he has, including the woman. They are mine.” He was nearly screaming now in his rage.

Badger replied calmly and without any sign of being intimidated.

“Your people have separated from the Antelope people. Your rights will be considered by our council. I will present you with three horses for these people.” A generous offer considering the fact that the gift of a single horse would repay a family for the life of a murdered man.

“NO! I will not permit it. If you do not give me these things, I demand that the man fight me to the death. It is the law,” shouted Walking Bull. Badger had underestimated the rage and frustration of the young warrior. He knew he must agree to the fight. He could not ignore such a challenge. He could exert the authority accorded him on the basis of his popularity and leadership, but it would be difficult to enforce and would not last. A fight would be postponed—not eliminated. Besides there was nothing the tribe liked better than a good fight between two warriors. He spoke to Deer Woman.

“My daughter. Will your man fight as is our custom?”

“I know not. He is a good man. Strong. Kind. But I know not. We must talk.”

Walking Bull was sneering openly and showing his scorn. Deer Woman turned to Old Jake.

“This man,” said Deer Woman pointing to the challenger “speak you must fight.”

“Whut fer?” asked Old Jake.

“He speak take everything take Big Jake. Take me. Take guns.”

“Wal, reckon Ah cain’t let thet happen. Whut kinda fight’s he talkin’ bout?” continued Old Jake.

“Must fight knife. One must die. All things belong to man who lives.”

“Cain”t say Ah like thet. Don’t really want to kill nobody. Whut else kin we do?” he asked.

“Must fight or give Walking Bull all things. Deer Woman must go with him.”

“Nope. Thet ain’t a choice. Ah’ll fight—see whut happens.” He placed his huge hand on her arm and squeezed gently.

“But, first Ah want my Greener.” She nodded with tears beginning in her eyes.

He did feel something strong for her. But she also worried. If he died, a part of her died too. It was a part of her that had been on a trail of danger, hardship, caring and gentleness, and grown to be a love she had not known existed before she knew him. She reluctantly relayed the message about the knife to her father, who sent a brave to get it. The fight would be delayed while the knife was retrieved from the Ugly Man council lodge.

Old Jake examined Walking Bull carefully. He was slim and well muscled, but shorter than Old Jake and without the heaviness in the shoulders and arms that had been acquired during years of farming. These same muscles had been not only maintained but honed by the hard life of the mountains. His thigh muscles were massive from years of walking the mountains and days spent in the streams and ponds of the beaver. The younger man’s advantage in speed might be a problem, but barring an accident, he was confident he could defeat him on a strictly physical basis. The warrior’s skill with a knife was another unknown factor. Old Jake had enough skill with a knife to have survived several fights, but he did not consider himself an expert.

He noticed that the Indian’s knife was a standard trade item with a longer blade than his Greener, but a considerably more inferior steel. He also noted that Walking Bull favored his left hand.

“Funny, he shoulda bin named Left Hand, but mebbe he wuz one ‘o them people who wuz jest as good with both hands. “Hev to watch thet,” he thought.

The rider sent to fetch the knife returned in record time. Even so, the word of the fight had spread rapidly, and old and young from both camps had gathered. Old Jake tested both edges of the Greener, and decided it would have to do. He was ready.

Walking Bull stripped off his buckskin shirt, strutted along the edge of the crowd loudly announcing his intention regarding the trapper and hurling insults.

Badger brought the matter to a head with a sharp, penetrating command. Walking Bull advanced rapidly in a weaving pattern with knife held low.

“Not a greenhorn-fer shore” thought Old Jake. As the warrior approached in a shuffling crouch, feinting and weaving slightly, Old Jake caught the flicker in his eyes that signaled his move. What he didn’t catch was the quick switch of the knife from left to right hand at the last instant, and the lunge from his right side.

He twisted away, but not quick enough. The knife caught him in the left side, and sliced through his buckskin shirt leaving a thin line from belt to the breastbone.

Deer Woman moved toward him, but was stopped by Badger. It was not a serious wound, but on the part of his body that had suffered such a damaging wound in the spring, it would be troublesome. It bled freely and increased the excitement in the watchers. It would be an easy fight. The clumsy white man was no match for the Arapahoe warrior.

But Old Jake had learned a lesson. When Walking Bull advanced a second time, he thought he knew what the strategy would be. He was right. At the last instant, the warrior switched the knife back to his left hand and lunged, emboldened by his first success. The trapper’s Greener caught the blade on the top, stopping its course, and then flipped upward slicing a four inch gash in the Indian’s forearm with its top edge.

Surprise and alarm flashed across the warrior’s face. Maybe he had underestimated this lumbering bear. The ullulating cries of the squaws that had followed the first wound to the trapper ceased, and a silence fell over the assembly. Now the fight settled down to a probing cut and parry game. Here the trapper’s strength began to show itself his lighter adversary felt his advantage slipping, and his lunges began to be more desparate. Old Jake suffered another small wound to his left forearm when he was slow to get out of the way of a slashing attack. But in his slow, methodical way, he continued the stalking used

to sap the strength of his opponent. In his rage, frustration and the beginnings of fear, Walking Bull rushed forward in another desperate attack. This time Old Jake’s response was made with enough force that the between the Greener and the trade knife caused his opponent to lose his grip. His knife dropped to the ground. The shock to the villagers could be felt.

Old Jake placed one large foot on the blade, stooped, quickly grasped the handle and snapped the knife in two. He then tossed the Greener to Deer Woman, and gestured to Walking Bull to continue the fight with bare hands. Now completely beyond control by the rage brought on by the trappers humiliating action, the Indian rushed forward to attack. At the last moment he aimed a vicious kick at the trapper’s groin. Old Jake’s quick sidewise twist caused the kick to hit him in the hip—not a damaging blow, but painful. Now the trapper lost his temper.

“Young fool—needs a lesson. Ain’t gonna kill’im.” He began his slow stalk.

Walking Bull screamed in frustration, appealed to his fellow warriors for a knife, and received no answer. Only by the slow, steady approach Old Jake followed him wherever he went in the circle of watchers. In a final attempt to salvage his pride, he rushed forward again with right arm upraised to strike a blow. The trapper caught him by the wrist and elbow and brought his forearm sharply down across his knee snapping the bones like a piece of kindling. No sound issued from either the mouth of Walking Bull or the watching villagers. Right arm dangling he stooped quickly, grasped a handful of dirt with his left hand and cast it in the trappers eyes. He then moved close and struck a staggering blow to the side of the trapper’s head. When he moved forward to ister a second blow, Old Jake grabbed his left arm and gave it the same treatment he had given the right. Throwing him to the ground kneeling over him he placed a horny hand over his throat and began to squeeze. Through constricted air ages Walking Bull hissed;

“I curse you. May you die in shame”, and with that he spit in Old Jake’s face.

Caught up in anger, Old Jake tightened his grip and rising to his feet he lifted the Indian from the ground by the throat. In a tremendous show of strength he hurled him into the watching Indians like a rag doll. Walking Bull fell unconscious among them only to have them turn their backs on him, and walk silently away. A man with two broken arms was doomed. They could give no help for something so serious.

Through the red haze of his anger, Old Jake saw Deer Woman and Cub approaching hesitantly. It was like cool water to a fevered man. He placed his arm around Deer Woman’s shoulder and took Cub’s hand while they walked to Badger’s lodge. Facing the Arapahoe leader, he said in sign language;

“I ask that this woman be mine. I will care for her and the boy.”

“She has already made the choice. So be it. We ask that you honor our lodge,” answered Badger.

“So be it,” said Old Jake.

Old Jake sank to the ground in the shade near the lodge to rest, and Deer Woman began to treat his wounds.

“Naw, gal. We got tuh keer fer Walkin’ Bull. Ifn he larns, he’ll be a good man fer the tribe.” Surprised, Deer Woman backed away,

“No! He is bad man.”

“Wal, he’s a fella critter, an’ we need to keer fer ’im.” He arose and walked to the fallen warrior, and picked him up as he would have picked up a rag doll. Arms dangling he carried him to the shade of a nearby tree, and stretched him out.

Instructing Deer Woman to get wooden branches of the proper size and length, he assembled the items needed for treatment. When they were ready, Deer Woman held the splints in place while Old Jake pulled the bones in place and tied the wood firmly around his arms. Walking Bull was visibly in pain, but did not utter a sound. When the two had finished, he leaned back to rest unable to do anything else.

Badger had watched the treatment closely, and when finished said to Deer Woman;

“This is indeed a strange man. He does not hate.”

“Yes, my father. He feels. It is good,” she answered.

“My heart sings for you. May he give you strong sons,” commented Badger.

“Yes. May it be so,” she said.

By evening, all of Jake’s belongings had been placed near the tipi of Badger, with the exception of the mules. Even Deer Woman’s jack knife had been placed on the top of the packs. One of the elders had told Badger that they had been unable to approach the mules, but Old Jake could come for them when he was ready. Badger was amused, but did not show emotion. After all he had not seen these undisciplined animals.

They slept that night in the tipi of Badger as honored guests. Old Jake had fed Walking Bull himself, and then made sure he was resting comfortably in robes he provided. These acts were not unnoticed by the Antelope People, and would continue for the days the two bands were together.

Chapter 13

Sunrise found Old Jake preparing breakfast in front of the tipi. At least he didn’t have the Old woman talking constantly to him while he worked. Eating quickly, he set off in the early sunshine to fetch the mules. It was a pleasant morning. The sun rose on a clear sky, and meadowlarks called cheerfully to each other. A solitary hawk circled slowly, searching for breakfast. Crows in the trees along the river busily discussed the coming day. Old Jake was at peace with himself and this vast, rolling world near his beloved mountains.

The young boys watching the horse herd when he arrived maintained a respectful distance from him. Word had already spread of his fighting ability and strength. They followed him at the appropriate distance to where Big Jake and the others were grazing.

The mule was immediately alert and wary of the arrival of the trapper, and his uninvited entourage, he turned and resumed his grazing. However, as Old Jake carne close enough to be recognized by sight and smell, he made no effort to cause problems as Old Jake reached his side and began rubbing his neck. In fact, he seemed genuinely glad to see his friend. The jennys and Jack were content to follow Big Jake’s lead.

Mounted and leading the three mules, Old Jake set off toward the Antelope camp.

Nowhere did any of the Ugly Face band make an effort to either greet or hinder him.

Tethering the mules by Badger’s tent, he turned to find the old Arapahoe watching him intently. g to the Indian, Old Jake invited him to him to get acquainted, but Big Jake and Jack would have none of it. Jeanette and Janet accepted the attention with resignation, and ignored it as best they could. It was a relief when Deer Woman ed them from the tipi. The difficulty of communicating with Badger was making Old Jake increasingly uncomfortable. Through the woman, he was able to make her father understand that the mules disliked strangers, and particularly Indians, intensely. It was really a matter of trust, and while Deer Woman and Cub had achieved that trust, few others had. Badger nodded his understanding, and then spoke at some length.

“Badger speak, we stay here. Hunt buffalo, maybe ten suns. Go to land of midday sun. Big river. Trade with white man. Camp for days of cold,” interpreted Deer Woman. Old Jake understood they would hunt here for a few days, and then move south for the winter camp. The traders mentioned must be the Bent brothers down on the Arkansas River, although it could be the fort of St Vrain. If his reckoning of their location was good, the St. Vrain fort should be closer. Either way, it sounded good to him. There was not much chance he could get outfitted and into the mountains for trapping now. Besides, it looked like he could trade for any good buffalo robes he could get. Deer Woman continued,

“I must go today. Prepare for trap buffalo. Other women go too. We make trap. Kill many buffalo. Go to land where Antelope people see many buffalo. Travel one sleep. Other women go too. Hunters come after one sleep. You stay.”

“Naw. Gal, we’ll take the mules, and ah’ll go with yuh.”

‘It is not good. Men not do women’s work. I will be laughed at,” she said.

“Wal, jest tell’um yuh got a crazy white man followin’, but ah’m gonna make shore yer alright. When we goin’?”

“We go now,” she answered. Despite her concern about the opinion of the women about her womanhood, there was a gleam of approval in her eyes. Her treatment by this man might not have the approval of tribal society, but she gloried in being treated, not as an equal, but with consideration for her wellbeing and kindness. Old Jake, on the other hand, did not give it a second thought. First of all she was an uncommonly competent and caring woman, and, second, she had proved herself repeatedly on the trail. And finally, she had grown in attractiveness both inwardly and outwardly as he came to know her. There was both shared respect and affection between them.

As Old Jake moved to check his rifles and other equipment, he heard Badger questioning Deer Woman sharply. He knew the subject of discussion, and ignored it. He had reached an age where he was secure in his manhood, and being accused of doing woman’s work didn’t bother him. It was good to have his weapons back, and he carefully cleaned and oiled them before selecting the rest of the equipment they would need. Cub was everywhere bouncing from one of the adults to another in his excitement. Any other boy his age would have been forced to stay with his grandmother, but Old Jake had already made it clear that the family would stay together.

He knew they would be gone for three days to a week and would need to travel light because of the loads to be returned. He set out only the essentials, and made up one small pack. When he was finished, he had one more chore. He went to the tipi where Walking Bull had been taken to check on his injuries. The young warrior stared back at him imively without either an outward show of hate or welcome. After Old Jake had checked to make sure the splints were firmly in place, and that his need for food and sanitation were being taken care of, he began g to the young man.

“Four moons, you must wait to take off the bindings”. He received no response.

“I will bring food and share the hunt for your winter’s food and clothing”. Still no response. He left the tipi, and went to his food supply to return with enough food to feed the warrior. He gave everything to the family in the tipi with much g to ensure Walking Bull was cared for.

“Whar was the young feller’s family?” he wondered.

Returning to Badger’s tipi, he was again met by puzzled looks for his recent actions. As he saddled and loaded the mules, he smiled to himself at the strangeness of the Indians. Even more puzzled looks were cast his way when he loaded the smaller rifle and placed it on Jack’s saddle.

“Surely, the woman was not to be allowed to hunt,” was an attitude clearly expressed by the Indian’s actions. Again, the trapper ignored them. Ready-they waited patiently while the women of the band prepared.

Finally, the women began their trek northward accompanied by a small band of warriors to protect them from roving Ute or Crow raiding parties. With the exception of Deer Woman and a few others, they walked, each with her own pack. It was a dusty trip in this late summer season. The occasional showers did little to keep the hills green, and they travelled through a brown, dry land. Rest stops were few, but the party kept up a steady, ground eating pace. By nightfall, they had reached a small stream flanked by 50 to 100 foot bluffs on each side. They camped that night near the stream without the benefits of fires or cooking. The tired women ate their cold trail food, and sank into their sleeping robes immediately. Old Jake and his party were the exception. Mounted as they were, the day had ed more as a short, pleasant outing than a grueling march. They made camp and cooked food with all the efficiency they had shown in the past.

By sunrise the next morning the scouts had departed and the women began their climb up the bluffs. It took nearly an hour for all of them to reach the top with their packs and begin to reassemble. By that time some of the scouts had returned with the news that the herd was still located at about the same place as noted by the southward travelling band three days earlier. They would move a mile eastward and begin their work. The land to the eastward rose slightly to a ridge just beyond the point on the bluffs where the women were told to begin. Here the bluffs rose a full 100 feet above the small stream.

The women set to work immediately placing branches, rocks, sagebrush and any logs available in two lines outward from the edge of the bluff Now Old Jake began to get the idea. “Clever plan” he thought. “Gonna drive ’em plumb off the cliff.” He and Deer Woman set to work to help with constructing the barriers. They used the mules to pull the heavier logs and rocks into place. It was hot, dusty work, but worse for the dismounted women. They worked steadily throughout the day, and by night, they had created a funnel shaped set of lines stretching out from the edge of the bluff for nearly a mile. The barrier was thin in places—no more than a few clumps of sagebrush, but it got thicker and higher with the approach to the bluff. It certainly would not stop a buffalo intent on breaking through it. It was, however, intended as a visual barrier that would channel the beasts movement rather than stop them. They had stopped their work well within sight of the dust cloud marking the location of the herd.

“Purty good job” thought Old Jake. “Ifn she works, we’ll make a good haul’’’.

The party moved back along the trap to the river to await the morning. Again, it was a cold camp. With the exception of the mounted warriors, everyone was just too tired. Old Jake and Deer Woman made their camp as they had the night before, enjoying their companionship near the fire.

“Looks lahk a big day tomorra,” ventured Old Jake.

“Much buffalo come. Have much meat,” said Dear Woman.

“Wal, whut we supposed tuh do?” asked Old Jake.

“Hunters chase buffalo. Fall off cliff. Woman stay here. Take meat. Skin,” she said.

“Naw. Don’t think so. You can take Jack. We’ll chase. Mebbe you kin shoot the bear this time,” Old Jake offered.

“I can do?” Her eyes shone in the firelight.

“Yepper. Cub goes too.” He reached over and placed his arm across her shoulders squeezing gently. She wriggled with pleasure and excitement.

“This man gives me the chance to hunt like a man. The time is good. My husband is good” she thought.

They awoke well before dawn to the sound of men and ponies moving. The braves were getting ready to go to the hunt. They arose quickly and chewed cold jerky and a handful of corn before saddling and readying Big Jake and Jack. Old Jake checked the rifles, and placed the caps for firing. Mounted, Big Jake moved out rapidly after the hunter’s ponies sensing the excitement of the group. Cub

was stuck to the back of Deer Woman’s saddle fairly bursting with excitement. He was experiencing the action of a full grown brave, and he knew it.

They rode for over an hour in the fading light of the moon in a broad, sweeping circle to avoid a head-on encounter with the herd. Old Jake was a bit surprised that the Indians were travelling at night, but he guessed the combination of moonlight and the nearness of dawn gave them the courage to do so. By daybreak they had circled the herd, and were positioned in a large semi-circle as needed to begin the drive. Now they waited. It would not be good to startle the buffalo causing them to run before entering the trap. They would start slowly.

As the sun topped the horizon with searching pink rays, the herd began to come alive. Bulls and cows alike got to their feet, stretched and began moving in small circles preparing to move to the nearest water hole. Here and there a bull rolled and pawed in one of the wallows pocking the area. It was not a large herd. Probably not more than 500 head, but if the trap were even partially successful, it would be more than this band of hunters could handle.

The Arapahoe hunters moved their horses forward in a slow walk. The buffalo showed no alarm other than a few of the bulls trotting to the edge of the herd to investigate the intruders. As the ponies came closer, cows, calves and some bulls began drifting slowly away to avoid them. The movement continued with here and there a small group breaking away and skirting the approaching crescent of hunters. When they reached the ends of the trap barrier, the pace began to pick up. The Indians moved their ponies to a fast walk, and began their yipping wolflike cries to increase the pace and concern in the herd. Now, larger groups of buffalo began to veer away and cross the flimsy barriers.

To Old Jake riding with Deer Woman and Cub on the downhill end of the crescent, it seemed they had been walking for hours. Now that it was permissible to make noise, Cub was wailing in a feeble attempt to mimic the hunters in their wolf calls.

There were now about 150 of the buffalo remaining, and they had reached a point where they were no more than a half mile from the bluffs. The Indians pushed their ponies into a run and began firing the few guns they had while screaming like banshees. The buffalo responded by plunging into mass flight. Now they didn’t have time to consider the size or thickness of the barriers. Rather, they plunged ahead in a crazed attempt to escape through the only open avenue. Still, some did turn back either to charge the hunters or turn aside. In some cases they were knocked down and trampled by the rushing herd.

Food for the wolves was being imitated by the hunters.

When the first of the panic stricken herd reached the edge of the cliff, they attempted to stop and turn away. The mess of fleeing animals behind them— unable to see the impending danger—surged ahead pushing the leaders over the edge only to be pushed over in turn. Only a small number of the rushing animals at the end were able to avoid the fall and turn back. The waiting hunters made an effort to use their lances to kill them but only as a show of manhood. The real kill lay at the bottom of the cliff.

When Old Jake looked over the edge, it was a sight he would not soon forget.

Dead, dying and wounded animals lay in a vast heaving, squirming, struggling pile. He and the women and a few older braves had begun moving among the animals killing as they went. The pain and fear-filled bellowing and crying interspersed with the cries of the women rose in a wave to the trapper. It was followed by the stench of blood, burst intestines and dust—and death. As he watched, one of the women attempted to drive a lance into an apparently dead bull. At the feel of the blade, the bull twisted his head and horns in a last effort, catching the woman and tossing her like a rag doll. She lay where she fell. There was not time to tend her now. It was just another woman anyway.

The hunters at the top of the cliff moved along its edge until they came to a spot where they made their tortuous descent. When they reached the bottom, Old Jake noted that the ranks of the women had been swelled by both more women and older braves during the morning. After tethering the mules, they moved to the downed buffalo, and prepared to help with the task of butchering. As they approached the kill the stench was almost overpowering. It was not Old Jake’s type of hunting. Deer Woman, however, was smiling broadly. Here was food, shelter and supplies in abundance.

The mass of flesh was covered with Indians gaily moving around, over and into the mass pulling, tugging, twisting and cutting. Periodically, one of them would emerge to offer a delicacy to one of the hunters who rode up and down loudly discussing their success. He saw braves drinking the liquid from the stomach, eating such delicacies as raw liver, heart and even a group downing lengths of intestine. He had seen it all before, even among some of he white trappers. The feast with the intestine was accomplished by placing the end of the intestine in their mouth and holding the other end aloft. The feaster began swallowing until the intestine was consumed, it was cut off or vomited back up when the eater’s capacity was exceeded. He had seen the latter happen to the same person several times before it could be successfully consumed. It also never failed to make his stomach queasy.

He noticed that the whole process was going forward in a very inefficient way.

The clutter of bodies impeded the normally quick and efficient actions of the women.

Motioning to Deer Woman to follow, he returned to the mules, and led them to the butchering. The mules were not happy to be so close to this much death and blood but Old Jake attached ropes to Janet and Jeanette. Looping one end of the

rope around a back leg and encouraging Janet to pull, he snaked one of the carcasses into the open. He returned for another, and with understanding growing, Jeanette and Deer Woman ed the effort. Some of the larger bulls weighing well over a ton required both mules straining together. After several hours, they had succeeded in separating the buffalo sufficiently to permit the women’s work to progress more rapidly. Deer Woman ed them, while Old Jake stood by with the mules to assist in turning and peeling the hide off. The work went well, and by nightfall the roughly 100 bulls, cows and calves that had plunged over the cliff had been skinned and cut into manageable chunks. There would be some waste because of the sheer amount of flesh, bone hides and other parts.

But it would not be like others where the kill so far exceeded the people available that much would be lost to spoilage beyond even the Indian’s tolerance.

Both the women engaged in the butchering and the braves gorging themselves on the delicacies became covered with blood, gore, dirt and the ever present flies. Crows and coyotes alike gathered at a distance to await their turn. When the day had ended.

Old Jake and Deer Woman picked up Cub and walked wearily to a point downstream of the of the camp where they stripped off their buckskins. They washed themselves with some of the precious soap obtained from the trader and went through the process of cleaning their buckskins. It was a process that had been accepted by Deer Woman and Cub. The Antelope people, however, viewed the activities with some amusement. They were willing to engage in some reasonable amount of cleanliness. These three appeared to be overly concerned.

In the morning, the long strings of pack horses were brought up and loaded. As each of the brave’s horses were loaded, they set off toward the south. By midday when all were loaded, a long line of horses were stretched to the horizon

moving back to camp. Only one incident occurred during the long afternoon. A mounted war party was spotted on a distant hill watching the hunters. A scout reported that the war party was Crow and 10 or 12 warriors were seen. Apparently, the war party felt that the hunting party was too large to attack. They continued to watch, but made no move toward the Arapahoes. Warriors were sent to insure that any stragglers were protected, and brought up to the main group. Beyond that, the group was too large and the line too long to do more than ensure that fighting men were spread along the line. The women walking with their packs near the horses were also ordered to move faster. The long, high plains day gave them enough hours to reach camp before the dread darkness, if they pushed on into the dusk hours. The women would be tired, but it was better than risking small raids by the Crows.

Excitement was high in the village as the hunters returned. There would be food in the tipis this winter, but now, there must be celebrating of the hunter’s return despite the weariness of their party. There was another reason for anticipation of a feast in the camp. While the hunting party had been gone, a white man had come to the village to speak to Our People about the white man’s God. It was an important man because this man claimed that he spoke with Manito.

Tired after the long day, and faced with the task of unloading and caring for the loads of buffalo, Old Jake felt he would avoid this white preacher, and talk to him tomorrow. He wanted to talk to him about marrying Deer Woman “legal like”. It had been on his mind for some time now. Badger, however, had other ideas.

“My brother, the women will do work. You must hear white man who speaks with God. Tell Badger what he speaks.” translated Deer Woman.

“Wal, Ah better take keer of Big Jake fust” he sighed, resigned to the prospect of a long night. When he returned, Badger and Deer Woman were waiting, and they walked to the large fire that had been made at the site where the council lodge

should stand. A tall, skinny, white man with white hair and a stern countenance was standing behind the fire, gazing into the distance. He gave the appearance of dignity, concern and seriousness. He was an imposing figure.

“All, welcome, brother. It is indeed a pleasure to have another civilized face here among the heathen.”

“Shore goin tuh be a long night” thought Old Jake.

“Howdy, revern. Whut yuh fixin’ tuh do?”

“I am here to save the souls of these poor, sinful heathen and lead them to a life in God. Livingin peace and harmony with their neighbors. It is clear that the devil has a strong hold on them.”

“Hmm, How long yuh fixin’ tuh be here?”

“The spirit of the Lord will descend on these people, and they will come to the light, just as the Israelites came to see their sin in building the golden calf.” The sonorous tones and devout look on his face told Old Jake that he had come across a man who would not be swayed by circumstances. His vision was clear and focussed without possibility of deviation. Old Jake foresaw problems with the Arapaho. At best, they would simply ignore him as a fool.

At that point, the preacher raised both arms to the skies and began to pray loudly.

“Oh God, we humbly pray that you look favorably on the heathen gathered here.

Send down—”

“What he say?” translated Deer Woman.

“He’s talkin’ to God. Askin fer help to save ya all from the devil.”

“Why?” she asked.

“So’s yuh kin go tuh the happy huntin’ ground when yuh die,” Old Jake continued.

“Not see devil. Whut he doin’?” she wanted to know.

“Wal, he’s a purty shifty fella. Cain’t see him,” Old Jake offered.

“What God say to white medicine man?” she asked.

“Wal, it don’t work thet way. He don’t rightly answer so’s yuh kin hear him. Yuh jest hev to trust him,” said Old Jake.

“Umm” Old Jake knew he had lost the audience. The concept of a God that didn’t speak in a vision like their own buffalo or coyote man was beyond their grasp. They lapsed into a fascinated silence at the intensity of the oratory and wild flailing of arms.

Eyes glistening in the firelight, they nodded approval at particularly moving shouts and pleas on the part of the preacher. Their nods and iring glances at the preacher’s oratory spurred him on to greater-and longer-efforts. Old Jake soon lost track of the harangue, and actually dozed. The Indians concept of God as Manito and various natural gods was deeply imbedded in their religious culture, and remained intact. They understood Manito and lived the concept daily. But they did enjoy a good show.

The preacher went on for nearly two hours before stopping without ever realizing that his audience hadn’t understood anything he said. He sat down convinced that he had been responsible for a miraculous conversion of nearly two thousand red-skinned heathen. The truth came hard on the heels of the end of his sermon.

First the drums started, then the hunters began their dance to show their prowess.

They were followed by the women dressed as buffalo being driven through the trap and over the cliff. Individual dancers dropped out to gorge themselves on the piles of steaming buffalo meat, only to return to the dancing. The sight of such a pagan display immediately after having been converted by his sermon was too much for the preacher.

He sat with glazed eyes and slack mouth in a state of near shock long after Old Jake and Deer Woman had retired to their tipi.

The next morning was much as the one after the arrival of the Antelope band. Most of Our People were sleeping off the effects of the dancing and eating on the previous night. Old Jake and Deer Woman arose as usual, completed the morning chores, and began their days tasks. Deer Woman turned to working the hides and preparing for drying the meat obtained from the hunt. Old Jake took the opportunity to engage in much needed grooming. Using a well sharpened knife, he hacked off the hair that had grown long and lank and shaved the beard that had grown apace. It was a very slow day, with Our People emerging from their sleeping spots throughout the day. When Badger appeared from the vicinity of the council lodge, he announced that in five days, they would begin moving south to the Bent’s fort and winter campground.

Three days later, Deer Woman had completed the initial preparation of the buffalo. Her mother and the other women could tend the drying fires and salvage the sinew, horns, bones and fat to be used for tools and household tasks. Old Jake decided to conduct his own hunt. He and Deer Woman departed with Cub and the pack mules in tow. It was early afternoon before they made their first kill. A small herd of antelope moved slowly across the mouth of the ravine down which the three were traveling. Old Jake’s shot took a young buck in the chest, and it dropped on the spot. Deer Woman’s first shot of her hunting life was not as good. The ball raised a puff of dust ten feet above the back of a larger buck. The rueful look of surprise and rubbing of her shoulder caused Old Jake to chuckle. He ed his first shot taken so many years before. He spent a few minutes going over the procedures for aiming and firing with her again.

The antelope was quickly and expertly gutted and placed on Jeanette’s pack saddle. She had given the least resistance to the carcass smelling strongly of fresh blood. The little party moved on, and in the next hour and a half, they killed two more antelope.

Old Jake’s shot had hit one in the chest again, and Deer Woman shot one through the front shoulders. No matter. She was delighted with her first kill. She

chattered like a small child and repeatedly showed Cub the act and the wound. Old Jake’s praise was lavish. It took longer than usual for the butchering process.

It was then that Old Jake decided they would move further out on the plains in a long circular route back to the village that would give them a chance at a buffalo. As they prepared to move out of the small clump of cottonwood trees after gutting the last antelope, and resting for a few minutes, he noticed movement on the hills to their left.

The movement appeared to be about three miles away. He motioned the party quickly back into the trees. If it was game, they would watch their direction of movement, and try to get into position to shoot. If it was Indians, they needed to know who they were.

Remaining mounted to get a better view, Old Jake eased up to the edge of the trees and immediately spotted the movement again. For long moments, he studied the spot until the objects came a bit closer. No question about it. Mounted riders, and moving very quickly. It was either a very large party or a smaller party driving a herd of horses.

They were moving in a northerly direction across the route that Old Jake would have taken. As they drew closer, the trapper confirmed the fact that it was a group of Indians driving a sizable herd of horses. Had to be raiders driving stolen horses-and they were in a big hurry. The Arapahoes had lost a part of their horse herd. No matter. The raiding party was too large for Old Jake and Deer Woman to fight, if it came to that.

The trapper could see no scouts around the horse herd. Maybe they were in too much of a hurry to avoid anyone chasing them. No! Wrong again. There they were.

Three of them fanned out behind the raiders to keep an eye out for pursuers. The one on this side would within a hundred paces of the trees where Old Jake watched if he kept coming on the same course he was following. And he did. Only, at the last minute, he veered toward the trees where the hunters waited. Old Jake moved into the trees in an effort to conceal themselves.

The scout did not appear to be overly alert. He rode loosely with the ancient trade musket dangling from one hand. He did not give his full attention to the surroundings or his back trail. Apparently he was confident that pursuit was not forthcoming. He glanced curiously at the trees and moved his pony in that direction, still in a relaxed way. Old Jake watched the turn of events, and sucked in his breath. They could not permit themselves to be detected and an alarm given. The larger group would overwhelm them quickly. He slowly and quietly cocked the Hawken. He would trust that a shot would not be heard over the noise of the horse herd.

The Crow scout walked his pony slowly into the edge of the scant tree cover, and his eyes widened in alarm. It was his last act. The 50 caliber ball took him in the chest, and knocked him from the pony still grasping the hackamore. Deer Woman moved Jack quickly to the pony, both to block its flight and to grasp the trailing rope. Now they must move, and Old Jake led them out the far edge of the trees at a fast trot. No use u the mules if they were going to be chased. They moved briskly down the ravine for a few minutes, and then started up and out. When they reached the top of the ravine, he looked back, and searched their back trail for anyone inclined to pursue them.

Sure enough. They were after them. The two other scouts had picked up the sound of the gunshot and rushed to investigate. The hunters now raced from the trees that had so recently sheltered them.

Now it was a horse race.

“Or rather a mule race,” thought Old Jake wryly. He was not concerned with a test of stamina. His mules could win that over the small Indian ponies easily. But in a test of speed over a short distance, he knew they would lose. He spoke to Big Jake, and picked up the pace to a canter. Big Jake responded readily as if he understood the problem, and Old Jake marveled at the rapport shown by this four footed friend. The pace would maintain a distance between the two groups, and force the Indians to use up their ponies quicker if they expected to catch the fleeing family. It went as Old Jake expected. Within a short time the two Crow scouts were forced to rein in their ponies and adapt a slower pace. Doggedly they came on trying to cut the lead of Old Jake and Deer Woman. Only Cub enjoyed himself immensely.

Hour after hour they kept on while the lead see-sawing back and forth with Old Jake matching each effort to shorten the lead by increasing the pace. The mules were doing well. Old Jake figured that if they could keep up this pace for another hour or two, they would be within sight of the camp. The landmarks were familiar, and the trapper could see the dark smudge of trees representing the river location. He spoke to Big Jake in a reassuring voice and urged him on.

It was not necessary to wait the full time of Old Jake’s estimate. Halfway to the trees he spotted a cloud of dust moving toward them. They had to trust that it was Our People as close as they were to the main camp of the Antelope band. Eight mounted braves emerged from the dust cloud, and trotted up to Old Jake. With respect born of the prowess witnessed in this man, they said

“Haugh, white man, why do you hurry so?”

“Crow horse raiders. Scouts behin’us,” he shouted.

“Aahh. It is good, we will teach them a lesson now. Where are the horses they have stolen?” they asked.

“Back trail. ’Bout 20 of ’em. Headin’ that way. Bout four hours back,” Old Jake choked.

“We will take care of these two and trail the others. Send our brothers to follow us. Haugh.” With that, they urged their ponies into a full gallop, and the pursuers became the pursued. It would be a short flight. The Arapaho ponies were fresh and the braves eager for a fight after the boredom of camp life.

Old Jake heaved a grateful sigh of relief, and turned the mules toward camp. He did not decrease the pace they were following, because the warriors that would be sent out would need all the time they could get before darkness fell. They rode into camp with Deer Woman calling the warning loudly, and the camp exploded. It seemed every warrior in sight was scrambling for weapons, food, and his best horse. Some rode one horse and led another in anticipation of a long chase. The weapons carried varied as widely as the warriors themselves. Rifles, muskets, bows and arrows, lances and war clubs were all in evidence. Coup sticks were everywhere. In reality only about 50 warriors rushed headlong from camp. They were jubilant without exception at the thought of a chance to prove their manhood in battle. That the battle might be more symbolic than dangerous was understood by both sides, and did not dampen their enthusiasm. Old Jake was greeted with enthusiasm for having brought the warning, and acquitting himself well in the first encounter. For his part, he was content to take his rest and let the warriors seek glory. It was not to be.

The second person he met after being greeted by Badger was Preacher Williams.

“Brother, we must talk. I have seen you are living in sin with this heathen woman. Repent of your sin, and cast her out before it is too late.”

“Revern, yuh don’t seem to unnerstan. Ah bin on both sides. Had me a wife an’ kids in Kentucky. Lost ’em. This here woman has stuck by me through thick an’ thin.

She’s a fine woman, an ifn you’ll marry us, Ah’ll be proud tuh call her wife now,” he explained.

“You are mistaken. The Lord says you shall not take the heathen to be your wife. She is unclean, and you must purge yourself of her,” responded the preacher.

“Wal, in that case. Ah reckon you best leave us be. Cause Ah don’t feel the Lord meant yuh cast aside everone that don’t talk and act jest like you do. This woman is more family than most’ll ever know, and Ah’ll stick by her,” said Old Jake.

“Woe unto you and your heathen ways. I cannot cast pearls to the likes of you,” responded preacher.

“So be it Revern. Don’t bother me agin.” With a heaviness of heart that had nothing to do with the warnings of the preacher, Old Jake walked away. He was just sorry that he had been unable to fulfill his dream of marrying the woman he had come to ire and love as a friend and wife, because of someone so narrow thinking and bigoted.

Chapter 14

It was the fourth day after the announcement by Badger that they would leave in five days, and the camp became alive with preparations. Everywhere the women were beginning to pack and ready their belongings. Deer Woman, too, began the task of getting their belongings ready. Old Jake was amazed at the amount of goods and equipment they had acquired. There were stores of food, robes, camp equipment, the trade goods they had bought, clothing, weapons, tools, traps and the tipi that Deer Woman had started. They would use some of the many horses that Badger owned to help carry it all.

They began in the morning with the Sweat Lodge society determining the order of march and the Staff society keeping order. The ever watchful Coyote men were on their lonely hilltop vigils searching for signs of danger. The order of marching included positions for the bearers of the band’s sacred articles. This included the flat pipe, the most sacred of all these articles. It was carried by the keeper, who walked near the middle of the line of marching under the watchful eyes of the men of the Water Sprinkling-Old-Men society. It was much too precious to risk by being carried on horseback, and must be defended at all cost in case of attack. Old Jake, Deer Woman and Cub were also near the center of the line, as befitted of Badger’s family.

“Druther be out front or behin’,” he grumped to Deer Woman. “Cain’t see whar Ah’ mgoin’ fer all the dust an’ critters.” Deer Woman just smiled and nodded, but they remained where they were. For all of that, the travel was easy and pleasant. They did not hurry because of the number of women who walked and carried packs. Small bands of braves detached themselves to hunt buffalo as herds were sighted, and Old Jake ed them on four of the seven days of travel. Each time he returned with meat and hides.

Their hoard was gradually increasing. It was good, because they would need to trade for winter supplies before their winter camp.

Although they were moving toward the land of their most persistent enemies, the Pawnee, they did not encounter raiders. The size of their band did not encourage any but the largest of war parties to try their luck. The Comanche’s and Kiowa would ordinarily be encountered as they went farther south.

On the fifth day, they ed the tall, broad shouldered mountain that thrust itself out into the plains, and had been “discovered” by an army man by the name of Pike.

“Twarnt no discovery to it,” thought Old Jake. “The Injuns bin travelin’ aroun’ it tuh git tuh the huntin’ in the mountains fer a whole lot a’ years, way Ah heer it. ‘Sides, trappers knowed bout it too. Awwal, when yuh don’t hev a lotta savvy ’bout the country or the folks thar, yuh git tuh thinkin’ yer the fust one tuh see it. ‘Sides, most white folks don’t give the Injuns credit fer knowin’ much ennyway.” When he asked Deer Woman about the mountain, she was not particularly interested in talking about it.

“Manito live by mountin. Only Water-Sprinkling-Old-Men go to pray to Manito. Sacred place.” Well, it looked like a perfectly ordinary mountain to Old Jake. He wondered if there were beaver and other animals to be trapped there. From his discussions with Badger he knew they were not more than two days travel from the Arkansas River where they would make the winter camp. They were also close to the Bent’s fort where they could trade, but maybe he would have time to hunt a bit more to increase their furs and hides for trade and explore this mountain.

The warriors sent in pursuit of the Crow horse thieves returned on the day before

they reached camp. They had been very successful. After running down the pursuers of Old Jake and Deer Woman, they quickly followed the main group to their camping spot to the north. It was a rock formation along the trail that had been a favorite for many travelers over the years. It consisted of a group of up thrust rocks that resembled a castle with an open space in the middle for camping. It was an excellent place to defend.

Unfortunately, it was not large enough to hold the horses as well as the Crow raiders. It was necessary to hold the horses outside the protective rocks under guard. The Arapahoes simply encircled the rock camp and the horses, and waited for morning.

When the raiders had emerged from their camp in the morning to resume their journey, the vastly superior Arapaho force attacked and either killed or drove off the raiders capturing the entire horse herd in the process. Of course, in the process of retelling, the battle was embellished with lengthy tales of coup counting and individual bravery against the despicable, Crow much to the delight of the listeners. It was counted a great victory, and the tales would be told and re-told to the glory of the warriors involved many times. It did not seem to matter to whom the horses originally belonged.

They now became the property of the victors. The entire group stopped to celebrate such a great victory.

The evening of the following day, scouts returned with the news that buffalo had been sighted moving southward to the line of marching. They would continue camping near the stream where they had stopped for the victory celebration, and hunt the following day. Since the herd was large, everyone physically fit and old enough would be involved. Only the old, infirm and very young would remain with the camp.

“We’ll be needin’ the hides an’ meat, gal. Yuh’d best git ready tuh do sum shootin”‘, ventured Old Jake.

“I can shoot?” asked Deer Woman. She was fairly bursting with excitement and something more. There was a glow in her eyes and on her face that said much more. It hinted at the deepness of her feelings for this man who so casually treated her as a partner. She was on the level with another man. Well, not really a man. Their relationship as man and wife had reached a completeness that exceeded all she had ever known in the world she had lived in. And yet, he accorded her privileges that only men were afforded. It was confusing, but she knew with all her heart that she did not want it to change.

“Yep,” he replied. “We’ll need all the hides we kin git fer tradin’, an’ the meat won’t hurt none this winter either. ‘Sides yuh’ll be needin’ tuh git better with thet rifle, case Ah need yer help.” And with that, they set to work preparing for the morning.

They departed at first light in the company of Badger. Both Old Jake and Deer Woman were mounted, and the pack mules were lightly loaded. While the buffalo were reported to be no more than half a day’s ride, if the hunt were successful, they would be away from camp one or two nights. They were not worried about bringing the meat and hides back. Badger was trailed by a long string of packhorses.

As they rode eastward in the early morning light, Old Jake listened to the sounds of the moving hunters. The steady drum of hooves, blowing horses, voices of the Women chattering eagerly, and the banter of the hunters.

“Hah. It is a good day. I will kill many buffalo. But I am afraid you have grown fat and too slow to catch any, Left Hand.”

“Ah. Your mother was the cow of a white man, Wolf Who Walks. Your eyesight is poor, and you are the one who will be slow.”

“Your is that of a rabbit, and your horse has a weak heart, brother. You will never catch anything but a crippled cow.”

“Let the day decide who is the hunter and who should be back with the old women in camp.” Each sally was followed by laughter and catcalls from the other nearby hunters.

“Laffin’” mused Old Jake. “Thet’s suthin’ white men don’t usually ‘spect from Injuns. Mebbe thet’s why we don’t allus git along too good.” He didn’t understand everything that was being said, but he did understand what was going on. For these hunters, the work of the day carried elements of enjoyment, satisfaction and pride in individual ability. It also involved considerable danger, but he knew these men were well aware of it. Some of them might not come back. None of them would have avoided it.

Pride in their manhood was a part of their very life. The banter served not only as an outlet for their tension, but as a means of engaging in a little bragging about individual prowess. Old Jake also knew that the extravagant insults would not be tolerated from outsiders without causing a serious fight.

By midmorning, the scouts were reporting that the herd was a short distance ahead, south of the small stream they had been following for the past hour. It was good.

They would be reaching the herd at mid-day after they had grazed during the cooler morning hours and were resting and fighting flies during the warmer part of the day.

The entire party turned south, and Badger explained what was to come.

“Soon women stop with pack horses. Hunters circle to south of herd. Come to leaders from downwind. Ride against the leaders, and make them run in big circle. Kill many as they run.”

“So thets it. A surround,” thought Old Jake. “Heerd ’bout them, but ain’t never been on one o’ ’em.” He looked forward to the experience, but he also knew that maintaining a surround was a dangerous undertaking. Staying astride on a buffalo runner alongside a wildly galloping herd of buffalo, each weighing over a ton, was hard enough.

But the possibility that the herd would break from the circling movement and engulf you and the horse in a mass of fear-crazed animals was very real. Big Jake had been involved in the chase of individual buffalo, but Old Jake was not now sure how the mule would react the chase involving thousands of them.

“Keep thet mule close tuh me, gal. If suthin’ goes wrong, stick to ’im like a burr. He’s the only chanct yuh got,” he cautioned Deer Woman.

“Yes, my husband,” was the quiet reply. She too, was aware of the danger.

At the signal, the women stopped and picketed the horses below the top of a low rise overlooking the dust cloud that marked the herd. As the hunters continued southward, and then swung east to intercept the herd, they made preparation for the killing to come. Bows, arrows and lances were tested and held in readiness. Those few hunters with rifles positioned themselves in the front of the party. The noise of the firing would be an important factor in frightening the lead buffalo into turning into the circling movement so important to the success of a surround. Old Jake and Deer Woman moved to this group, and he gave her arm a quick squeeze to reassure her. He failed to notice, however, the puzzled and disbelieving looks of the other hunters.

By now, the smell and noise of the herd was reaching them, and Big Jake’s eyes were beginning to roll. He stepped quickly and stiffly almost as if questioning the wisdom of this process, but he did not falter at the man’s command. Jack followed without questioning.

The party stopped at the edge of the final rise before reaching the buffalo to assess the situation, and make final preparations. There was much pointing and g by the leaders, and Old Jake took the opportunity to check the loads of the rifles. He also took one of the pistols and gave it to Deer Woman.

“Foller me close. Yell like a han’t, an’ shoot the pistol tuh make noise, but save the rifle fer the buffaler,” he instructed. He knew that reloading the rifle astride a madly dashing mount surrounded by buffalo was a chancy business, and required a lot of experience and skill. It was not a task to be tried by anyone as inexperienced as Deer Woman.

‘Yes, Jahk,” she replied almost in a whisper as she began to show her nervousness and the beginnings of fear.

The hunters started down the slope at a lope, and Old Jake and Deer Woman followed. At the first sign of alarm by the buffalo, they urged their horses into full gallop toward the leaders of the herd. It was a matter of seconds to overtake these leaders and begin firing and yelling, forcing them to change course. Old Jake looked over his shoulder once and saw the entire hunting party trailed behind them in a growing arc.

Deer Woman was keeping pace just off his right shoulder.

The circling move was successful with only scattered, small bands breaking free and fleeing from the herd. Now the killing began. Each hunter drove his runner in toward an animal to drive an arrow or fire a heavy caliber ball into the vitals of the racing animals. The bawling of the wounded and dying, the shots, and fear of their fellow animals all contributed to more panic and confusion in the herd. Old Jake moved shoulder to shoulder with a large bull and fired point blank into the chest cavity. Big Jake veered away as the bull tumbled head over tail to the ground. Old Jake looked over his shoulder as he moved to the side to reload, and was pleased to see Deer Woman repeat his performance. Other hunters were busy with arrows and lances, downing buffalo all along the drive.

It was after their seventh kill (Old Jake had killed two fat cows from a standing position as they dashed by, which was sure to bring scorn from the Indian hunters) and the barrels of their rifles were getting hot when Old Jake noted a change in the herd.

Their increasing panic and loss of their leaders had resulted in more disorganization. No longer were the animals following a circular pattern. Rather, larger and larger groups were breaking away and heading back toward the small stream to the north. Uneasily, Old Jake watched as Deer Woman rode to make her third kill. Then his uneasiness turned to cold fear as he saw several large bulls swerve directly toward the women to escape the circling Arapahoes.

Abandoning his reloading efforts, he kicked Big Jake into a lunging gallop toward Deer Woman shouting at the top of his voice. In blind panic, one of the huge bulls lurched sideways into the much smaller Jack knocking him off his feet. Clutching her rifle, she nimbly leaped aside to avoid being pinned under the mule, and turned to face the buffalo rushing toward her. It was at that point that a large hand seized the back of her buckskin shirt and lifted her bodily aboard a lunging, squalling mule that had run with bared teeth an lashing hooves at the buffalo. The bull swerved just enough to without . Old Jake whirled the mule, and galloped away from the herd with the woman he now held tightly but intact and unharmed. They trotted to the top of the ridge overlooking the hunt and dismounted. Old Jake was gray-faced and shaking visibly.

“Damn, Ah almost lost this ‘un too,” he muttered as Deer Woman took his hand, and held it to her cheek.

“Not worry, Jahk. I stay close now.” He turned away to hide the concern he knew must show, and as he did so, he saw Jack standing on the ridge a quarter mile away watching the milling hunters and buffalo curiously. When Old Jake and Deer Woman walked toward him, he spotted their approach, and trotted to them as if nothing had happened. He had been shaken and bruised but not seriously hurt in the exchange.

Big Jake snorted disdainfully, and promptly ignored him.

“We go back now, Jahk,” said Deer Woman.

“Yep, gal. Stay close, yuh hear?”

“Yes, my husband,” and inwardly she smiled.

As they descended to the killing ground, once again mounted and with their rifles reloaded, two things became clear. First, the herd had scattered to the point where the surround no longer existed. One party of hunters pursued the largest bunch northward toward the stream and its surrounding willow cover. They were almost out of sight in the rolling hills. The second thing Old Jake noticed was the stream of women descending from their lookout. Now, the work would begin, and with it the traditional gorging on delicacies. There would also be searches for hair balls and other “medicine” items, but mostly it was the grueling work of butchering and preparing the packs to transport the kill back to camp.

Old Jake and Deer Woman circled the fallen animals identifying their kill. There were seven bulls and cows cleanly killed that the two of them were sure of. A good day’s work had been done. The trapper left the task of retrieving the pack mules, and organizing the camp they would need for the night to Deer Woman. They would not complete their work until the next day, and that would require help from Badger’s people. He set to work skinning and cutting one of the bulls into manageable chunks.

As he worked, he noticed that the noise and dust had died down as the last of the wounded, bawling animals was killed. On the other hand, the flies arrived in clouds, and the smell in this warm part of the day increased. Old Jake worked steadily, piling the chunks of meat on the hides, and ignored the cries and chatter of revelers, cavorting and choking down various parts of the buffalo.

And then he heard it. Distant pop-popping of gunfire from the direction the hunters pursuing the last of the buffalo had taken.

“Suthin’ wrong thar,” muttered Old Jake. “Shots ‘re bein’ answered. Ain’t like huntin’.” The Arapahoes nearby looked up in the direction of the shots, smiled, and called to each other as if to indicate their pleasure in more successful hunting. Old Jake called to Deer Woman working on a carcass nearby.

“Git Badger and sum braves. We gotta go take a look at them hunters whut took off.” He gestured broadly toward the north. She nodded and retrieved her rifle and Jack to carry out the directions. Old Jake wiped as much of the blood and gore with bunches of grass that he could remove. He picked up the Hawken, and checked the loads of it and the pistols. Mounting Big Jake, he headed north to be ed by Badger and eight braves, all armed with rifles. Deer Woman was with them, and showed every intention of continuing. The trapper frowned in annoyance at the thought of her being exposed to more danger in this day, but he said nothing.

“Why do you worry? Our hunters have found the buffalo,” said Badger.

“Naw. The shootin’s wrong. May be trouble.” Badger smiled as if to say Old Jake was being foolishly cautious, but said nothing more. He really had nothing to do at the site of the slain buffalo anyway. When Deer Woman rode up beside him, she told him that three of the men had died in the surround. Two had been smashed to bloody masses of pulp, and the third strangely untouched except for a massive wound to the back of his head.

“Why we must go to hunters?” she asked.

“Shootin’ don’t sound right. Sounds like they run into a fight.”

“Ah, there is trouble?” she asked.

“Sounds like it.”

When they topped the last low hill leading down to the stream. Old Jake’s fears were justified. The small hunting party had been surprised by the attackers in the open as they approached the stream. Four bodies lay stretched out on the grass, obviously dead and scalped. The remaining hunters were trapped in the willows along the sharp bend in the stream. The attackers were stretched in an arc around the hunters from which they were slowly but surely closing in. It was merely a matter of time since there were nearly twice as many attackers as hunters.

“Hao! Pawnee scum! We go,” snarled Badger.

“No,” grunted Old Jake. “We’ll split. Come at ’em along the two arms of the arc. We got the wind on ’em. Pick yer men. Ride hard thru ’em an’ don’t miss. We gotta hev eight down tuh even the odds. Ride tuh the crick an’ we’ll the others. Deer Woman yuh stay close now,” reluctant to leave her where other Pawnee might find her.

“It be as you say,” she replied.

“It is good,” announced Badger, as he split the group, and sent five of the warriors to the left. Deer Woman noted with pride that the warriors nodded their approval as they removed their buckskin shirts and prepared for battle. Her husband was indeed a mighty warrior.

As Badger waved them forward, the 11 rescuers jumped their mounts to a full gallop, and raced down the hill. The surprise attack was as successful as Old Jake expected. They were within yards of the Pawnee before they were detected. Jumping to their feet, they turned to face the attacking Arapahoes. One of Our People fired early, and missed widely. Old Jake fired from point blank range, and had the satisfaction of seeing his target go down with a ball in the chest. Other Arapahoes were also taking their toll as well. Old Jake’s heart leaped when he saw Deer Woman discharge her rifle inches away from the chest of a Pawnee warrior to have it nearly tom from her hands as the barrel struck the warrior squarely. Her action was equivalent to counting coup in the best tradition of plains warfare. One of the Arapahoe ponies went down with an arrow in the chest. His rider hit the ground running and leaped astride the horse of one the other warriors.

And then, they were through, and galloping into the brush where the defenders were standing and whooping a welcome, and firing at the Pawnee. When Old Jake turned to look at the attackers, he saw six Pawnee bodies.

“Damn,” he swore softly. “Not nuff o’ them red sons down.” But Badger calmed him.

“Do not fear my brother. They will fight no more today.” Sure enough. The Pawnee were removing their dead, and preparing to leave. True to their Indian code they were withdrawing in the face of a change in odds and the prospect of losing more of their warriors than expected. They would wait to fight another day.

Old Jake and the others found one more of Our People who had died of wounds in the willows near the stream. Others had suffered wounds, but none seriously.

Preparations to return to camp were hurriedly made out of fear that more Pawnees would fall on the working women and unprepared hunters. The dead were quickly lashed to their ponies, and the mounted party set of fat a brisk pace to reach the main party of hunters.

It was a somber party that reached the main body of hunters. Eight dead braves in one day was sobering to the band that had prepared to celebrate a successful hunt. As the word ed, the wailing began, and an air of grief settled over the entire band.

Guards were posted as preparation for the night’s camp began. And the work continued.

‘My brother, you have distinguished yourself today,” signed Badger. “Much honor is yours. But we must speak of another matter.” Badger appeared distinctly uncomfortable, but he continued.

“The warriors of Our People are angry that my daughter, your woman, has stolen the honor that belongs to them by counting coup on the enemy this day. They say you must punish her for placing herself in the position that belongs to a man who has shown himself to be a warrior. If you do not punish her, you must pay them in horses to wipe out the insult.”

“Wal now, my friend, thet is a serious problem. But thar ain’t gonna be no punishin’ or payin’. The gal did whut had tuh be done. Them braves otta be payin’ her iffen the truth was knowed. But iffen thet ain’t good nuff, then they’ll jest have tuh answer tuh me personal like. Ah’m right sorry they cain’t see it thet way, but Ah’m not gonna punish her fer suthin’ Ah taught her,” Old Jake responded.

“My brother, it gives me sorrow that this matter will remain so. I, too, am proud of my daughter’s courage and skill, but to go against our ways is a serious thing. It is not finished.” And with that warning, Badger returned to his campfire.

In the morning, the work continued, and soon small bands of women with loaded packhorses under the watchful eyes of groups of braves began to make their way back to the main camp. With Old Jake’s help and that of Badger’s family, Deer Woman completed the work on the kill, and loaded it on the mules and a long string of Badger’s pack horses. Their kill had been truly enormous with two of them hunting, and they would need to share much of it with the less fortunate of the band. As Deer Woman rode at the head of the pack horses to one of the departing groups, Old Jake noted that she sat her mule straighter and with more pride in her accomplishments than before.

He also noted that with the exception of her family, she was being shunned by the other women. They were undoubtedly reflecting the feelings of the men. It was then that the trapper resolved that they would have to make their own way.

“Oh wal, Ah never did like travelin’ with a herd ennyway,” he thought.

The main camp would remain where it was for several days. First, to take care of the dead, and next to take care of the buffalo kill. The joyous welcome over the successful hunt had been quickly stilled by the news of the dead. The mourning began.

Old Jake and Deer Woman were treated with a reserve not previously experienced, but no overt action was taken by the band. He had ed Badger in the distribution of a part o fthe buffalo kill, but because he was a man who could

not control his squaw, he was treated with politeness but not friendliness. The meat was welcome and his generosity noted, but no more.

Chapter 15

Their arrival at the Arkansas was met with rejoicing by the Funny Man band of Our People.

They had waited two years for the Antelope band, and it was cause for feasting. But first, camp discipline must be maintained. The band continued downstream until a suitable campsite with grazing for the swollen horse herd could be found. The placement and positioning of the lodges were established to provide the camp circle with the position of the council lodge selected by the Rabbit Men, a secret society responsible for the sacred rituals. The village site had also been selected with consideration for protection from the winter winds that would accompany the widely varying winter weather during their long stay. The eastward opening circle formed the basis of the camp as always, with its central council lodge. Individual lodges were positioned in the circle with their backs and longest slopes facing the west, the direction of the strongest winds.

Within a short time, a beehive of activity had erupted with much good-natured banter between neighbors. But it was not to last.

By the end of the second day, the basic camp had been completed, and preparations were under way for the feasting in honor of the return of the Antelope band. There would also be a Buffalo dance. But before it could begin, the Coyote Men sent word that strangers were approaching. Traders bringing goods. Within an hour, the traders were bringing their string of pack horses into the village, and Old Jake’s heart sank. The leader was a tall man with a black beard astride a prancing stallion. John Ransom! Deer Woman stiffened, and expelled her breath in a sharp hiss.

The traders wasted no time, knowing full well that they would need to take advantage of the excitement that was mounting, and depart quickly. What they intended would not be favorably viewed as time went on, and certainly not by all of the Indians. John Ransom rode to the center of the camp circle, and began shouting and gesturing broadly:

“Hey. Hey. Hey. Come all a’ you red brothers. Get them kegs and packs up here, boys. We got us some tradin’ to do.” The “boys” were eight of the burly, dirty, dull appearing men that John Ransom favored as companions.

“Easier to cheat, mebbe.” thought Old Jake. Placing the kegs of trade whiskey in a prominent position, they began spreading the trade goods close by and posting guards throughout. What happened next was expertly done, but extremely ugly to Old Jake.

Several of the traders circulated through the pressing crowd ing out small tastes of whiskey and trinkets to a selected few braves. To share the effects of the “magic water”, those fortunate braves who received tastes breathed on the less fortunate. The excitement rose to a fever pitch, and within a short time trading was progressing briskly.

John Ransom remained on his stud, and circled through the crowd urging the Indians on. The entire village became chaotic as the normally reserved Indians began pushing, shoving and staggering from the effects of the cheap whiskey. As the trading progressed and more and more braves fell under the effect of the whiskey, the rate of exchange for the precious commodity increased dramatically. In their desperate haste to get more of it, drunken braves forced their wives to bring more robes and furs and, finally, traded their most treasured items including wives and horses. Old Jake noticed that the traders were systematically moving the spoils to a location outside of camp, and placing it

under guard.

It was on one of John Ransom’s circuits that he spotted Old Jake. He jerked back in surprise, but then came on to a position in front of the trapper who was standing with Deer Woman and Badger watching the proceeding with disgust.

“There ye are, yuh dirty, woman stealin’ son. He stole my woman an’ kill one of my men, chief I’m goin’ to kill yuh fer that. I bin waitin’ a long time fer the chance,” he shouted.

While Deer Woman spoke rapidly to a now scowling Badger, Old Jake did not respond as expected. Rather, he calmly replied:

“Come ahead, yuh back shootin’ scum. Ah’ll be waitin’ any time ye’re ready.” Jerking his horse around, Ransom moved to continue his circuit, but not before he shouted:

“I’ll be back, an’ you’ll be a dead man.”

“We go. Man bad. Hurt you,” Deer Woman cautioned while pulling at the trapper’s sleeve.

“Naw, gal. Cain’t run. Better face him now, rather than git a bullet in the back in the mountins,” Jake commented.

“Must be careful,” Deer Woman was almost pleading now.

“Yep. Yuh kin bet on thet,” he said quietly.

The little party withdrew to the lodges away from the sight that faced them. The village had become a shambles. Braves ed out from the effects of the whiskey were scattered throughout. Here and there wounded and dead from the many fights that had broken out were being tended by their wives and family. Those fights continued to occur in complete opposition to the normal social structure. That structure had disintegrated in the wake of the “magicwater”. A naked warrior stumbled aimlessly among the tipis. All discipline and dignity had disappeared, except by those few men who refused to be trapped by the whiskey. Badger expressed his sadness:

“My heart grieves for my people. These evil spirits will destroy them.”

“We gotta stop ’em a for they do,” ventured Old Jake.

“No. Our people would not permit it now. They are slaves to the “magicwater”. We must wait,” the saddened Arapahoe responded.

The noise gradually subsided as did the trading as the braves fell into drunken stupors, only to be replaced by the noise from the trader’s camp. The screams of terror and pain from the traded wives mixed with the laughter and oaths of the traders as they beat, tortured and raped them. The traders had reason for jubilant celebration. From the piles of plunder, horses and women surrounding them at a cost of no more than a few kegs of watered whiskey and a small amount of cheap trinkets, they would be rich men for a few days in St. Louis.

Old Jake spoke quietly to Badger:

“We gotta git ’em back, my brother. Kin yuh git together some braves?”

“I can, Strong Buffalo.” Old Jake smiled at the new name.

“Tell ’em tuh go now. Git bout one half day travel north. We’ll catch ’em when they camp. Cain’t fight on their ground.”

“Can not. Will not travel in Old Woman night,” said Badger.

“Damn. Wal, hev ’em ready by first light,” Old Jake continued.

“It is good, Strong Buffalo. We follow you.” He disappeared into the night to gather the braves and prepare for morning. Meanwhile, Old Jake slipped from the lodge, and brought Big Jake and one of the jenny’s to the tipi. He carefully checked his rifle and reloaded, laid out the rest of his weapons, and prepared a small pack for the jenny in case the trip was longer than expected. He then lay down next to Deer Woman to rest. Sleep was not possible until a long time later when the screams from the trader’s camp died down.

As the sky in the east began to lighten, Old Jake slipped from his robe and picked up his rifle and pack. He opened the entrance flap, and began to step through when he saw him.

John Ransom sat his horse 20 paces away with pistol drawn. Always the vain one, he had wanted the trapper to see the man who would kill him before dying. There was no sign of life in the village, almost as if the inhabitants were dead.

“Dirty back shootin’ snake” thought Old Jake as he attempted to dodge to the side.

He was only partly successful. Ransom raised the pistol and fired quickly while he fumbled at his belt for a second pistol. The small calibre ball took Old Jake in the fleshy part of the leg causing him to twist and crumple to the ground. As he did so, he was already raising his Hawken, ignoring the second pistol now being raised, he carefully centered the rifle on Ransom and squeezed the trigger. He did not miss. The 50 calibre ball took the trader in the center of the chest driving all sound from his throat. The trapper’s shot was followed immediately by a second. Deer Woman had followed her husband with the smaller rifle, and now stood just inside the tipi flap. Her shot had hit the stud at the base of the neck as it reared in response to the gunshots. It crumpled to the ground without moving, throwing Ransom to the ground as well. As Old Jake moved toward him, the trader showed an amazing strength, and struggled to his knees while slowly raising the pistol to bring it to bear on the trapper. In one swift movement Old Jake slipped his Greener into his fist, slapped the pistol to the side and rammed the knife into the trader’s stomach, twisting and ripping flesh and bone in an upward thrust. He felt no more regret than that of killing a wounded coyote.

“Killin’ a snake don’t count,” snarled Old Jake. The look of hate on Ransom face froze in place, and he slipped from the knife to the ground once more. Dead.

Old Jake turned to Deer Woman:

“Git my pack. We gotta move!” She eyed the blood on his leg and shook her head.

“No! Jahk hurt,” she said.

“Naw. It’s a flesh wound. Not more’n a scratch. Wrap it up, an’ we’ll ride. Them shots is gonna set the rest off.” And with that he washed the wound with water and wrapped it with a piece of flannel. It was, indeed, a flesh wound. Not much more than a crease that had already ceased to bleed. He might have some pain walking but it would not cause a big problem when riding. He moved quickly to saddle Big Jake and the jenny. Rested, the big mule took the opportunity to show off a bit and strutted like a colt.

When Old Jake was ready to mount, his farewell was terse:

“Take keer, gal. Gotta go.” But she clung tightly to his buckskin shirt with a stricken look. She was truly worried. This was the first time they would be separated for a mission much more dangerous than a hunting trip.

“You come back Jahk. No get hurt more,” she pleaded.

“Ah’ll do my best, gal. Count on it.” And with that he was mounted and moving.

He met Badger and a party of 20 of the Dog Soldier society braves. They were older, seasoned warriors who had avoided the temptation of the trader’s whiskey the night before.

They were returning to the village after hearing the shots. At first light they had found the trader’s camp deserted and swung around the camp in a large circle to pick up the trail. It was not hard to find. With help from the Coyote men, they found the tracks moving northward on the trail they had used to reach the village on the previous day. They were making no effort to conceal themselves or their trail, confident in their ability to fight off any attack. Besides, the size of the horse herd they had would have made it very difficult to hide.

“Good.” thought Old Jake. “We’ll give ’em a little ‘sprise party.” Meantime, Badger was g the question of what had happened in camp. Old Jake signed back.

“Trapper leader tried-so kill me. He is dead.”

“Aahh. It is good, Strong Buffalo,” said a smiling Badger.

“We gotta move quick. Send scouts on the fastest horses. Watch, find out whar they’re goin’,” directed Old Jake. Four warriors streaked north, while the main party moved more slowly along the tracks so clearly visible in the dry grass and soil.

Big Jake set a stiff pace, and hour after hour he moved steadily northward. The trapper’s sense of urgency had been sensed by the mule by every move he made. The Arapahoes’ ponies were forced to move in concert, but no one held back. By mid-afternoon they had moved a full day’s march with only a few stops to water and rest the horses. They were met by two of the scouts who reported that the traders were setting up camp at a small creek not more than a couple miles ahead. They were having trouble with the large number of horses and the women

who had been forced to travel most of the night. The fact that all of the horses had had to be led, a role they did not like, made their travel harder. It was good. The resources of the men were being used up, and after a long night and day of travel, they would be tired. That made the task of approaching them easier. Old Jake outlined his plan. They would move on horseback to encircle the traders without getting close enough to be seen. In the dusk of evening they would move closer to the camp on foot. They were to conceal themselves until early morning when the cry of a mourning dove would signal the attack. The force was divided into four groups with one of the older, trusted braves as leader of each. The downstream group of braves would be responsible for killing the horse guard, and ensuring that the horses did not escape.

The groups moved toward their positions at a walk to avoid telltale dust clouds that would alert the traders. These were seasoned, hardened warriors who now moved with all the appearance of hunting wolves. No false bravado here, and it was clear that Badger’s authority prevailed with this well disciplined party. It was also clear that each member personally felt the mission they shared. The entire encircling movement would require several hours, particularly for the warrior’s who would cover the far side of the camp.

Old Jake reached a position downwind of the horse herd by sundown with three of the braves. Two of the warriors had engaged in the scouting, and a short sign language discussion revealed that the horses were tied to a picket line, and the guard was on the downstream side where an attack was most likely. Old Jake signed that he would handle the guard. The other three were to move quickly between the camp and the horses to prevent any of the traders from reaching them. Understanding, each warrior tethered his horse, and slipped off into the growing darkness.

Old Jake also tethered the two mules, took part of the food from his pack, and he began moving cautiously up the stream. His injured leg was a bit stiff, but did not hamper his careful movement through the brush along the creek. By full dark, he had reached a point no more than 25 paces downwind of the guard

without the slightest indication of his presence. Many years of stalking wild game had given him the skills needed to move silently that was sured by only the best of Indian and white hunters. He could hear the guard clear his throat and spit, shuffle his feet to ease tired muscles, and reposition his rifle. When the breeze was just right, he could smell his unwashed body and clothes. Old Jake settled in for a long night. He ate some of the trail food, and settled under some of the brush to wait.

As the night wore on, the trapper noticed the flicker of lightning over the peaks to the west. It grew in intensity and frequency with an accompanying chorus of thunder as the clouds moved off the mountains on their way eastward.

“Jest might git wet,” he thought. As indeed they did. One of the larger storms moved directly over them with a spectacular display of lightning, and dropped hail and rain in such heavy amounts that hail lay in drifts to a hand’s width in depth. Old Jake had moved quickly to protect his rifle and keep his powder dry. The cold rain penetrated to the bone, and during one particularly bright flash of lightning, he saw the guard hunched over trying to keep warm.

“Shame it’s a wasted effort,” thought Old Jake. “Ain’t much question Ah’ll hev tuh kill the scum soon enneyway.” He wondered about the Arapahoes, but decided he would have to trust their ability as warriors.

Shortly after the storm ended, the guard was relieved, and both men showed a need to talk and reassure each other.

“Git enny sleep?”

“Nope, damn rain soaked ever’thin’. Cludin’ me.”

“Wal, was a bad ‘un out here too. Ennybody heerd from the boss?”

“Naw, but then, hell, John never talked tuh us much ennyway. Sed he was goin’ back to settle a score with some greasy squaw man in thet Injun camp.”

“Wal mebbe he didn’t make it”

“Don’t matter much. Jest means more squaws an’ money fer us. You know how he was with squaws ennyhow.”

“Yep. Wal, Ah’m goin’ back an take me one ‘a them squaws ‘an mebbe git me a little sleep. See yuh in the mawnin’.”

“Yeh.

Old Jake stayed huddled beneath the dripping brush out of sight. The night became much longer as he began to stiffen from the cold and damp air. Finally, he could see the faint glow that presaged the coming sun, and he began flexing the muscles in his arms and legs without moving to prepare them for the coming action. He tried to check powder and priming to determine whether they were dry enough to fire, but it was too dark, and he finally decided that he would have to use his knife.

“Damn. Thet means Ah’ll hev to be close. Hope thet nigger’s asleep.” he thought.

Within minutes the sky in the east lightened even more, and he knew the Arapahoes would be moving soon. Holding his rifle in his left hand and the Greener in his right, he began inching cautiously forward. No sound could be heard in the nearly windless air of dawn. Two of the ponies at the picket line began a small scuffle, squealing and attempting to reach each other with their teeth. A normal enough event, but the guard turned sleepily to check and left his back to Old Jake momentarily. In an instant, the trapper moved forward in quick silent steps. When the guard turned to resume his vigil, the Greener entered his body at an upward angle at a point just below the juncture of his ribs. The force of the blow was enough to send him reeling, but the arm holding him impaled would not permit it. He died before he hit the ground without ever seeing the deep red and pink of the predawn sunlight in the rain cleansed air.

Old Jake quickly wiped the knife clean and re-primed the Hawken to ensure that it would fire when needed. As he finished, he heard the mournful sound of a dove greeting the rising sun. He moved rapidly around the horse herd being careful not to run into any of the three Arapahoes sent to cut off the herd, and took a position near the sleeping camp. He need not have worried. Already he could spot dark shapes moving silently toward the huddled figures in camp. No shots could be fired because of the number of women in the camp. Besides, there would be more glory in counting coup by using their tomahawks and knives in personal combat. The first tomahawk to make with a hairy skull resulted in a short, but sharp, scream. The victim of the blow did not survive, but the other six remaining white traders erupted, all scrambling for rifles and pistols. It was too late. They were overwhelmed by Arapahoes. The odds of four to one, coupled with the advantage of surprise was just too much. And yet, two of the traders broke free and tried to flee. One of them headed upstream, pursued by two of the warriors, who yipped like wolves in the heat of chase. The trader turned and fired his rifle killing one of the Arapahoes instantly. The ensuing delay permitted him to disappear into the brush on foot. The remaining warrior, cautious now, searched the brush carefully, but did not discover the fleeing man. Mounted, they would search more thoroughly later. After all, the victory had

been a great one, and how far could he get afoot?

The second man was not so fortunate. He broke downstream toward the horse herd and directly toward Old Jake. The trapper centered the Hawken and squeezed the trigger.

The trader died immediately. After making sure the man was dead, Old Jake headed toward the camp and a scene of frenzied madness. All four of the traders had been scalped. Yet two still lived. The women were making slow work of their dying. They were being painfully mutilated in all parts of their bodies until they were no longer screaming. Old Jake saw one of the women slowly and mechanically lifting a large rock from the campfire, and smashing it down on the now unrecognizable head of an already dead trader. The fixed look of hate, rage and pain never varied on her face as she raised the rock and smashed it down again and again. It was only when he looked closely that he saw that parts of her ears and nose had been cut off, and long knife wounds ran down her breasts and stomach. Repelled by the brutality on both sides, he turned and walked to the trade goods. It was then that he saw one of the women stretched on her back, staring sightlessly at the sky. Her throat had been cut from ear to ear, and a controlled rage rose in him again at the needless brutality of the traders.

When he reached the trade goods, he carefully sought out the stores of whiskey, and systematically destroyed each one. The warriors neither helped nor hindered him. Yet, he sensed their disapproval of this waste of the “magic water”. Only Badger nodded approvingly.

Finished, Old Jake moved to the mules, tightened cinches and mounted. Without looking back, he headed south at a lope, wishing to distance himself from the scene at the creek. Once the rage and blood lust were spent, the Arapahoes would go about the task of gathering the dead and wounded and packing the trade goods for return to the village of Our People. But they would be long in coming, and he wanted to see Deer Woman and Cub again. Now!

He needed the healing process to start even though he knew what had been done was necessary. Big Jake walked into camp a fun day later followed by the exhausted jenny.

They had not stopped, but his big riding mule had been equal to the task, and had not balked at what was asked. Once again, the bond between the trapper and the mule had been strongly felt.

They were met by silence and hostile stares of the Antelope band. The feeling was strongly held that anyone returning alone had fled the fight and was, therefore, a coward.

Old Jake, slumped in fatigue, didn’t bother to try to explain. He simply kept the mules walking to the tipi where Deer woman and Cub waited. The sight of them, standing and waiting in welcome without thought of questioning his return brought quick tears to his eyes, and despite the tired muscles, he dismounted quickly and caught both of them in a bear hug that took the breath from them. They did not cry out at the fierceness of his action, but rather did their best to return it. When he released them, he handed the reins to the woman, and said,

“Give ’em food an take keer of ’em. The hev done a good job.”

“Yes, my husband,” she said. And with that, he went into the tipi and lay down for the first rest in three days.

Big Jake did not object to the care of the woman, and was almost affectionate

with Cub. While Deer woman gave them each a measure of corn and rubbed them with old blankets, Cub climbed over, around and between the legs of the big mule. Big Jake’s only response was to nudge him aside with his nose when he got in the way of the corn. Deer Woman did not approve of feeding the mules corn, but then, Old Jake insisted when their work was particularly hard. When she finished, she took the mules to the grazing grounds and returned to the tipi. Now she must care for this man she had come to value more than anything she had ever known in the short, harsh life she had lived.

The warriors returned in triumph that evening with Badger in the lead. The welcome by the village exceeded all others Old Jake had seen. Reunions of wives with husbands who had lain in drunken stupors when the rescuers had gone forth were not diminished by the foolish actions causing the loss. The recovery of the possessions and addition of the trader’s goods turned the affair into a great victory for the Antelope band. Preparations began to continue the feast delayed by the trader’s visit.

Old Jake had slept until late afternoon, carefully protected from visitors, including her father, by Deer Woman. When he awoke and arose, he found food waiting, and he spent time eating and talking with Deer Woman and Cub. As she heard the story of the raid on the traders, her wonder and pride in the quiet, competent strength of this strange white man grew and grew. Cub’s eyes grew wide in wonder as he caught the excitement of the story.

The criticism the woman and boy had received from the women of the band during the afternoon for his lack of bravery was washed away. She sat straighter and her chin raised proudly. What she had known in her heart would now become obvious to the entire band. Here was a man who went his own way with both sensitivity and strength.

When Old Jake spoke of destroying the whiskey, he added emphasis to the dangers of uncontrolled use of the “bad water”. Deer Woman too, had seen the

effects of its consumption in both Arapahoe and Crow camps. The loss of reason, control and function with its subsequent destruction of morals and life were emphasized by the trapper. It was a lesson that would be instilled in Cub by both the trapper and his mother for his entire life.

The drummers and singers at the council lodge began their rhythmic notice of the night’s feast, and the villagers rapidly ed for the food and dancing. Badger’s appearance with Old Jake and Deer Woman brought a halt as the Arapahoe prepared to speak. With all the skill of a master storyteller, he began:

“Here is the true leader of the great victory over the white men who stole our possessions and carried away our horses and women. This is the one who was attacked by the leader of the traders. But he killed this enemy of Our People who had brought sorrow to us. He counted coup on the white man with his knife. Truly a great warrior.” At his command, John Ransom’s saddle, weapons, and personal belongings were brought to Old Jake. When he realized they were to be his, the trapper told Deer Woman to take the saddle to Badger as a present for the gift of his daughter. The act of generosity was met with murmurs of approval by the Indians. It was a good sign.

Badger went on, “Then this warrior led our Dog Men society warriors into battle with a plan that gave us a great victory. While the foolish men who had their senses stolen by the magic water could not leave their lodges, he counted coup on one of the white guards with his knife and saved the horses of Our People and those of the whites. He killed one of the whites with his far shooting gun who would have run away to the horses. He did not take any of the goods of the white traders as was his right. Here is a warrior worthy of honor by Our People.” Throughout the story Badger had re-enacted the events skillfully. These embellishments had helped hold the audience spellbound. When Badger sat down, the women of the band began their tremolo cries of approval and appreciation, and the trader’s goods were brought for display. The warriors displayed the scalps, and told their own stories of bravery with the events acted out. In some cases the tales were embellished beyond Old Jake’s recollection,

but then it had been a victory, and the warriors were entitled to the attention they were getting. The feasting went on for a very long time.

Chapter 16

During the warm autumn days that followed the feast, Old Jake took advantage of the time to travel frequently in the surrounding country. He took Deer Woman and Cub with him whenever he could. He simply did not want to lose precious time together with these two. He never failed to add game to their stores and the stores of the band. The reason of these trips was not just the necessity to obtain food, but the pressure of camp life and sheer numbers of people drove him increasingly toward the mountains. It was on one of these trips that the trapper found what he suddenly realized what he had been searching for.

The three had been hunting for several days along the lower slopes of the mountain mass named for Pike. They had worked their way up the southern slope along a small stream that led southward toward the Arkansas. As they broke out of the trees, they entered a valley surrounded by trees and rock slopes. The rock covered peak of the massive mountain towered over them, and was bordered to the west by the magnificent backbone of mountains that the formed the range. The valley itself was probably a mile and a half long by a half mile wide. The stream that wound through the valley floor had been dammed in numerous spots by beaver, and the ponds held abundant numbers of lodges and stocks of water. At the top of the valley where the stream entered, large pine trees stood in front of the rock wall that cut the valley off from the higher. steeper slopes of the mountain. Old Jake was at home.

Deer Woman had noticed growing interest and enthusiasm as he saw more and more of the valley. She shared his delight in this secluded site. She too, had learned the value of time away from the hustle and bustle of camp life with all its petty quarreling, gossiping and lack of privacy.

Her experience as a captive, and, more recently, a sharing of values with the trapper had changed her. She had developed a growing feeling of separation from the wives in the Arapahoe band.

She was not prepared to embrace the same degree of solitude as Old Jake, but the proximity of this valley to the area over which Our People roved represented a good compromise. She did not fully understand what he had in mind, but she was willing to share whatever it might be. She was no longer a part of the social and work life of her home village, first by virtue of the time spent in the Crow village and now by the changed structure of the marriage to this strange white man.

She had cast her lot. She would follow him.

They camped that night at the head of the valley, and here Old Jake took Deer Woman and Cub to the spot where the cabin would be built, and where the corral would be placed and where they would keep the mules. Deer Woman did not understand the concept of a cabin, but she had seen the “big house of dirt” that had been built by the Bent brothers on the Arkansas River. It was puzzling that the man wanted to build something so big and permanent, but his decision would be final.

In the morning, Old Jake was anxious to get back to the Antelope band camp and gather the materials necessary to build his winter home. He knew that its location provided him with the opportunity to the buffalo hunts in the summer and trap for beaver in the mountains in the autumn and early winter. And at the time of the snow and cold north wind, they would have a safe, warm place. The importance of such a haven had increased overnight when Deer Woman had shyly told him that in eight moons, there would be a birth. Old Jake had told her he knew that they would have a foal, but she assured him that it was not a horse she was talking about.

He was delighted, but also reflected on the fact that his family was expanding more rapidly than he had expected.

When the matter of the cabin was discussed with Badger, there was much confusion.

“Why would the white man build a tipi of logs? Is not the tipi of our brother, the buffalo, the way Manito has taught us to live? How will you move such tipi? No, it is not good,” Badger said.”

My father, this man has many strange ways that are different and not easy to understand, but I trust him to do what is right,” Deer Woman said.

“But how can he go to live alone? It is the way of Our People to live together and share lives. Does he not know that we must live near the buffalo who give us life?” Badger noted again.

“He knows, my father, but his ways are not ours. I have chosen,” she responded.

“It shall be as he says. I would see this place. I will go with you. It is decided.” Badger finally commented. And it was.

But first during Old Jake’s preparations, her father presented him with a stallion and four recently bred mares from the many horses in his herd. With the goods he had been given from the raid on the traders and the tools he had carried with

him, he felt he could get his home ready by winter. The horses he was given would not hinder that work. There was grass in the valley readily available. He would, however, need one trip to the fort of the Bent’s to complete his stores, but that could wait.

Old Jake began the work as soon as camp had been made at the site in the valley. His activities completely puzzled Badger, his wife and the four friends of his father-in-law that had accompanied them. The Arapahoes quickly became bored and disinterested with cutting trees, preparing logs, laying rocks for foundations and cutting rails. There was not only no understanding of what was being done, for at worst, it was a complete waste of time and at best, woman’s work. They idled around for a time and then departed for the village with the intention to hunt on the way.

It was a relief to have them gone. Old Jake no longer had to try to explain what and why he was doing what he was. Deer Woman, too, was relieved of the task of preparing food, caring for horses and making preparation for travel of the braves. The work proceeded rapidly with everyone, including the mules, working. The skills of Old Jake were obvious in the work. This was not the first cabin he had built. His selection of trees for the needed logs was carefully done at different spots to avoid signs of their presence. The logs were carefully cut to look like they had been felled by beaver and branches and needles moved from sight to be used for fires at a later date. Pulled into position by the mules, the logs were notched and levered into place. The cabin would be large—12 by 18 feet with its back tightly fit to the steep slope rising at the head of the valley. The front was screened by the trees, and was fitted with a doorway and one window.

The window would later be covered with the skin of an antelope carefully scraped to a thinness that would permit some light to enter despite its lack of ability to permit them to see through it.

Old Jake also cut shakes for the roof with a skill born of long experience. The

wisdom of this latter action was questionable when viewed from the standpoint of potential attack, but Old Jake permitted his preference from earlier times override his misgivings.

The result of all these efforts was a cabin that was much better built than the log and sod structures usually built by his contemporaries. He took special care with the door and window shutter, cutting them to fit snugly into the log wall, and placing a log bar on the inside that could be securely fastened. Each flattened log was pinned to the other with wooden pegs inserted in matching holes burned into the logs with a hot iron to form a tight fit. It would with stand the most determined attack for many precious minutes. He also dug a tunnel under the back wall to a small chamber in the cliff.

When he had finished he built a pole corral for the mules and horses. It was necessary to build the corral in two parts, since Big Jake had not made peace with the stallion. Finally, he and Deer Woman gathered a supply of the grass in the valley, and stored it near the cabin for times when the snow was too deep. Now he could rest.

The six weeks of autumn had fled. He made an effort to set his traps for some of the beaver in the valley with only partial success. He had decided that a harvest of about 50 beaver each year would maintain the level of beaver at a constant level from one year to the next. This year, because of his late start, he would take no more that half that number.

“Oh wal, the Galena and powder Ah got from Ransom’ll git me through. An’ the dried, ground meat and berries’ll fill in on the game we git.” He’d have to make a trip to the Bent brother’s fort soon, but that would only be to get some of the extras, and to see what the place was really like. He’d take some of the beaver and buffalo hides and trade for some bacon, com meal, leather for harness, soap and cloth for Deer Woman. Maybe he could even get a little news about the “goin’s on back east.”

The days at the high elevation turned chilly and the nights sharply cold. Each morning the grass was white topped with frost, and ice formed along the edges of the creek. Old Jake knew that snow would soon cover the valley, and the beaver trapping would be over. That the valley would reopen each time the strong winds broke over the mountains and warmed as it came down the east side was also something he had counted on. They had been very fortunate that the snows had been delayed so long. But, now, with whatever days remained, they needed to make a quick trip to the fort. They would take all of the horses and mules. It was not wise to leave them untended to wander away, or become prey to marauding wolves, lions or two legged predators.

They made their preparations carefully, and on the morning of departure, they distributed the packs between the horses and mules. He had selected the best of the buffalo hides and as many of the beaver pelts as were cured and fit to trade. Not as many as he would have liked, but they would suffice to round out their winter supplies.

He had not placed a pack on Janet. Rather, he had fashioned a saddle from some of the old pack covers, and Cub was placed on a mount of his own. The boy, now over 3 years old, was beside himself with excitement. He talked to the mule and attempted to guide her as a good warrior should. She good-naturedly complied to a point. However, when the boy’s demands exceeded her idea of too much, she simply went her own way. Old Jake was not worried. He knew the Jenny would be careful with Cub, and on the trail she would follow Big Jake’s lead in everything.

They made excellent time on their journey. The horses and mules had little difficulty with the light loads, and in three days they had reached the camp of Badger. They tarried over night giving Deer Woman the opportunity to tell her father and mother that she would give birth, and share the news of the cabin. Badger examined the horses and announced that they too would foal in the spring. When they shared the food of Badger’s lodge, Old Jake was surprised at

the small amount of stores set aside for the winter. The stores of dried meat, nuts, berries, wild vegetables and the prairie equivalent of pemmican that he and Deer Woman had put aside far exceeded those of Badger. And the number of mouths to feed in his lodge was greater than Old Jake’s.

When he asked:

“Brother, why do yuh hev sech a small el ‘a food fer winter?” he was assured by Badger:

“The brother of Our People, the buffalo, will care for us.”

“Wal, Ah reckon they eat when they kin an’ worry ’bout it when its gone. Could git mighty hungry thet way,” thought Old Jake.

In the morning, they saddled and loaded the mules and one horse. Badger would care for the others until they returned. It would not be wise to have so many horses for the white men to see. Also there would be Pawnees, Utes and Comanches at the fort, for it was now becoming an important point of trade. The fort itself was considered a neutral place, but it would be easy for a small party to follow Old Jake’s party, and steal the horses and attack the trapper.

Badger had declined their invitation to accompany them. He did not like the confining walls of the fort nor the smells that went with them. Besides not trusting the white men, his old enemies the Utes and the Pawnees might also be there. He had gone to the fort earlier with rest of the band, and traded horses and hides for the goods he needed. He was convinced that the Bents were honest traders, but they drove a hard bargain. He had enjoyed that part of the visit since

the Arapahoe were noted as the best traders in the west when not influenced by whiskey.

All in all, he decided to forego going.

Old Jake’s ingrained vigilance was increased as they rode eastward along the river. It would take them the entire day to reach the fort, and he didn’t want to be surprised. He had checked the loads in both rifles before leaving, and he and Deer Woman rode with them close at hand. Cub had been relegated to a spot behind his mother on Jack by the necessity to combine the packs on fewer animals. He suffered the indignity of it quietly, having been promised that he would once again be given Janet as his warhorse when they returned to his grandfather.

They encountered no problems on their way. The few parties of Indians they encountered maintained a respectful distance when it was apparent both man and woman were well armed.

Deer Woman rode proudly as befitted someone whose husband was a strong warrior, and she handled the rifle with an authority and confidence completely out character for an Indian woman.

The ing braves would wait and see. Maybe the chance would come later, since it was obvious where they headed.

The early winter day was short and the sun had sunk behind the mountains by the time they reached the fort. When they approached the gate, one of Bent’s hired men was getting ready to close it for the night. Seeing Old Jake he stopped

and called out:

“Hydee, stranger. Whut kin Ah do fer yuh?”

“Heerd Ah might be able tuh do some tradin’ here,” responded Jake.

“Yep. Yuh heerd right. But yuh’ll hev tuh wait till mornin’ naow. Come on in. Yuh kin camp over thar,” he said with a vague wave at the wall on one side of the square. As they moved toward a spot in the direction of the wave, Old Jake noted that Deer Woman kept crowding closer to him.

“Easy gal, It’ll be awright,” he said lowly. But he, too, felt an uneasiness at the enclosing walls and the finality of the crossbar dropping into place.

“Jest too many folks in one spot,” he thought.

They made a sparse camp, not planning to stay long, and ate a cold trail meal. Old Jake did not wish to go to the common room or the so-called bar even though he could hear the talk and laughter that grew in loudness as the night went on and the liquor took effect. After all, the bar was probably no more than a few overturned kegs around a whiskey arrel. Later, a lone man approached their camping spot.

“Howdy, I’m Bent. Hear yuh got some tradin’ tuh do?” he said in a friendly way.

“Yep. Ah’mJake. Folks call me Old Jake. Got some beaver an” some buffaler,” he responded.

“Got any meat?” asked Bent.

“Nope. Jest skins,” answeredOld Jake.

“Wal, we’ll be glad tuh take a look in the mornin’. Where yuh from that yuh got beaver?” Bent questioned.

“West. Up in the mountins’,” said Old Jake.

“Didn’t know any’ a you white niggers was up that way this close. Find some good beaver country?” asked Bent.

“Not good. Not bad, but we got enough,” claimed Old Jake. Sensing that he would not get definite information from the trapper, Bent decided to call it quits. Maybe he could do better in the morning.

“Wal, we’ll see if we kin do some tradin’ in the mornin’,” he commented.

Old Jake did not sleep until the noise of drinkers quieted. He knew Big Jake would warn him of Indians approaching, but he wasn’t sure about his reaction with drunken white men. It had been a long time since they had been around white men, other than the brief encounter with John Ransom and his traders. The

last opportunity he had had to talk with any of them had been on the Platte a long summer ago.

The trapper woke before the sun was up with Deer Woman and Cub both huddled tightly against him for warmth and protection. They ate smoked buffalo and parched corn washed down with cold water, again reluctant to build a fire. When they had finished they set about unpacking the beaver pelts and buffalo hides, and laying them out for the trading to come. As the light grew stronger, they could see other sleeping forms huddled in blankets at various spots along the wall.

Apparently, there were not enough spaces in the adobe buildings to house all of the people who sought places at the fort. It was equally apparent that some of these forms were among those white men who had been long at the whiskey the night before. Old Jake decided he would keep his Hawken close at hand. Deer Woman followed his lead.

The sun was well up when the Bent that had visited them the night before came out with another man who carried a record book and a bag.

“Wal now, let’s take a look at them hides yuh got thar,” he noted. He walked up and down the displayed goods, stopping frequently to finger them and test their quality.

“Looks like yuh done a purty good job ofit. Reckon we can give yuh $3 tuh the beaver an’ $5 fer a buffaler. Course it’ll hev to be markers since there ain’t much cash out here,” he said.

“Hmm. Badger tor me it was more like 6 tuh the beaver an’ 10 fer a buffaler,” Old Jake noted.

“He did, did he? The old scoundrel always was tough tub deal with. Nope. Best I kin do is 6 fer buffaler an’ 4 fer beaver,” Bent responded. Old Jake sensed he was getting close to as much as he could, but he would try once more.

“Eight fer buffaler an’ 5 fer beaver as Ah see it,” he offered.

“Wal, there ain’t more’n 5 or 6 buffaler that’s wuth 8, and not much call fer beaver these days. Ah’ll give you 7 fer the buffaler an’ 4 fer the beaver an’ I’ll throw in a jug a’ whiskey,” Bent finally offered.

“Make it a keg a’ powder an’ its a deal,” was Old Jake final offer.

“Done. Give ’im the counters. Yuh strike a hard bargain friend.” But Bent was not displeased since he knew this would probably be the last trading of the season, and he was getting ready to send his last pack train of goods to St Louis any time. The clerk with Bent began taking counter sticks from the bag and placing them in a pile for the trapper. At Old Jake’s quizzical look, Bent said:

“Each one’s good fer $5 in the tradin’ room. Yuh kin git what yuh want,” offered Bent.

“Fair nuff,” agreed Old Jake. The clerk finished his count and began stacking the furs for storage in the warehouse.

Meanwhile, Old Jake, Deer Woman and Cub walked to the building housing the trade goods. Deer Woman followed so close that she kept bumping into Old Jake whenever he slowed.

The trapper made his selections carefully. He started with beans, bacon, cornmeal, parched corn, rough brown sugar and salt. He added 5 pounds of coffee, a stack of lye soap and 5 pounds of tobacco leaf. He moved to one side, and picked up a box of nails and a coil of rope. With Deer Woman he picked out two bolts of cloth in bright colors she liked, and three trade blankets with bright stripes. He also added a handful of beads and several sewing needles. Finally, he picked up twenty pounds of lead and a mold for making balls for the pistols taken from Ransom. He was done. When the clerk totaled everything up, he shook his head.

“Nope, Cain’t do it. Yer short a couple counters.” Said the clerk. Now, the trapper had a difficult choice. He could return something, or dig out his carefully saved gold piece. As it turned out, the cost of the coffee or the tobacco would make it even.

“Oh wal,” he thought, “Deer woman don’t take much tuh coffee anyway. Bin so long without, it won’t make much differnce anyway.” The deal concluded he picked up his Hawken and started for the door, only to be stopped by a shout from the square as he stepped out. He brought the Hawken up in front of him as he saw knot of men in the middle of the square from which the shout had come.

“That he is. The dirty renegade whut kilt my partners and stole all our horses an’ goods.

Git ’im! The murderin’ back shooter.”

“Damn.” thought Old Jake. “Must be the trader that run away over on the crick. Nuthin’ fer it but to face him now, but the odds sure ain’t good. Must be 5 or 6 of, em.” At that point both Bents appeared in the square.

“Hold on. Ain’t gonna be no shootin’ in the fort. Yer gonna have to go out away from the fort. Whut’s this all about anyway?” The speaker turned out to be a tall, skinny man who had washed neither himself nor his clothes. His hair and beard were matted and greasy, and by the look of his eyes, he had spent a lot of time with the whiskey jug in the past weeks.

“This murderin’ squaw man snuck up on us with his Injun pals when we wuz tradin’ up north. Kilt everbuddy but me. Stole our horses an goods. Ah got away afoot an’ come all the way down here. We need tuh string thet Injun lover up.”

“Well, Jake, what yuh got tuh say fer yerself?” asked Bent.

“Ah’d say he had it comin’. Came into Badger’s camp. Got the Arapahoes likkered up an’ cheated ’em. Even to horses an’ wimmin. Got tuh cuttin’ ’em up. My woman’s pappy an’ me took out with some others ‘an got ’em back,” he said very quietly.

“That true? Yuh know we don’t hold with givin’ any of our whiskey tuh the Injuns. Makes fer bad business,” said Bent.

“The dirty sons a-Iyin’. We traded fair and square,” shouted the killer.

“Don’t sound too fair tuh me.” said Bent, and Old Jake made the mistake of turning to look at him. The flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye and the gasp from Deer Woman jerked his attention back to the trader. He had dropped swiftly to one knee and drawn a knife from his boot. He was in the act of throwing it at Old Jake’s head. The Hawken belched flame and smoke just as he felt the bite of the knife. The act of bringing the Hawken to bear and firing had caused him to turn slightly to aim, and the knife caught him in the thick muscle at the top of his shoulder. Four inches to the right and it would have struck him dead center in the throat. The pain that spread through his left side burned like fire, and he shuddered and staggered back. The trader was not as lucky. He lay spread-eagled on the ground with a hole in the middle of his chest. He would not move again.

“Wal, that’s number eight. Mabbe that ends it.” thought Old Jake, but he knew it probably wouldn’t. The story would spread from these hangers-on, and be magnified. Well, he’d have to face that when it came.

“Looked like a fair fight tuh me,” said Bent. “Unless you fellers got some other complaint, why don’t yuh mosey along, and take yer friend there with you?” It seemed no one wanted to claim him as friend, since they turned without exception, and walked toward the room with the whiskey keg.

“Less yuh got some objection wi’ll be movin’ along too,” said Old Jake.

“Hold on. Yuh better let us doctor that wound for yuh,” insisted Bent.

“Nope. My woman’ll take keer of it. We best be movin’,” insisted Old Jake.

It took them a little longer to saddle and load their packs. Old Jake’s arm had begun to stiffen, and it required some help from the Bents, but they were ready before midday. When Old Jake and his family had mounted, the Bents cautioned:

“Be careful thet arm, an’ we’ll see yuh next year.”

“Mebbe, but yuh never know,” mumbled Old Jake.

“Funny,” thought Bent, “but I never did find out where he was trappin.’”

Old Jake set an even faster pace leaving the fort. He wanted to be back with Our People tonight. With the fire in his shoulder he didn’t know how much he could stand. He needed the protection of Badger’s lodge for Deer Woman and Cub. The grueling pace kept up throughout the afternoon and into the night. There were times when the trapper felt he would sink into unconsciousness, and fall off the mule. Deer Woman moved frequently to his side to help him hold on, and her heart went out to him. It was only when he heard the dog’s bark and smelled the smoke of the village that he knew they could make it. By now, Cub had to be held on the saddle in front of Deer Woman to keep him from falling asleep and falling from Jack.

Several braves had slipped from their tipis at the noise of their arrival, but recognizing the mules and Deer Woman’s voice, they went quickly back to their robes muttering about fools who traveled at night when the spirits were out. A quick explanation to Badger brought help with the packs and animals, and Old Jake was lying in the sleeping robes being tended by Deer Woman.

At his direction she washed the wound and bound it. It was not a serious wound unless it festered, but any wound to the muscles was painful.

“Damn,” he thought, “Why is it whenever thar’s a ruckus Ah git a new scar. Must be a awful slow target.”

In the two days that Old Jake rested and regained his strength, he talked with Badger on many subjects. He was assured that the band was grateful to him for having killed the man who ran away. His courage and skill as a warrior and one who could stand pain had been increased.

He was worthy of being called one of Our People. He heard about the beginnings of Our People, and the turtle that found the mud from which the earth grew. He heard of the special relationship to the buffalo, and how one of their cows had spoken to their ancestors and explained the society structure they should follow. He gained an appreciation for the dances and heard the story of the sun dance and the buffalo dance. By the end of the second day he felt he had heard more than he ever wanted to know, but he did have a better appreciation for the beliefs and customs of these proud people. He had also been able to pick up a few words to help him with the language.

“Funny,” he thought, “seems like the stories from different tribes hev a lot in common. Ain’t too much differnt than white folks when yuh kinda boil it down some.” But these were good things to know, and he made a promise to himself that he would them on to his children. He told them that night that they would leave in the morning.

True to his word, he was up before sunrise and started saddling and packing. By

the time the sun was half its width above the eastern rim of their world, they were in the saddle and ready to travel. Cub was back in his saddle on Janet, and anxious to show his grandfather and a few curious braves his prowess. As they turned to leave, Old Jake said:

“Tell ’em we’ll be back in the spring when the hunts start.”

“It is good” replied Badger. As they left camp. Old Jake pulled Big Jake back beside Jack and took Deer Woman’s hand in his.

“We’re goin’ home gal.”

And they did.

Chapter 17

They came the day after the first heavy snow. It was three weeks after their return from the trader’s fort, and about eight inches of snow had fallen the previous day. Old Jake had been working on strengthening the corral for most of the morning, and now it was early afternoon. As he looked up from tying a pole in place, he saw them.

“Five of ’em. White men by the looks of the way they ride an’ their kit. Cain’t be a social call,” he said softly. They were spread out across his small valley, moving carefully through the melting snow. Their tracks destroyed the virgin whiteness of his small world, and angered him in a way that surprised him.

“Must be sum of the scum from the fort. Knowed the likes of them would’nt forgit ’bout me. How’d they know whar Ah wuz, Ah wonder. Wal Ah best git out the welcome mat,” he thought to himself. He hurried to the cabin and pushed the door open.

“Deer Woman, we got us sum company. Git yer rifle ready, they ain’t likely tuh be frenly. Yuh stay in the cabin. Keep the door barred, an’ fire through the window. Ah’ll hit the trees an’ ketch ’em from the side. Iff’n they git me, head fer the hidee hole an’ wait ’em out. They’ll sure try tuh bum yuh out. ‘Member, stay cool an’ shoot straight. We’ll make ’er yet,” he gave as his plan.

“I see you, my husband. May Coyote be with you,” responded Deer Woman.

And then he was gone, savoring the onition to be as wily as the coyote.

She felt an unwanted emptiness as she placed the loaded rifle and pistol within reach, and opened the observation hole in the door through which she would fire. She finished by directing Cub to the opening in the escape tunnel. She knew the heavy logs of the walls and door would protect her from the leaden balls, but a determined attack by superior numbers could have only one end if she had to face them alone. Both her efforts and Old Jake’s with help of Manito would be needed. She watched and waited.

Meanwhile, Old Jake had slipped through the snow to a vantage point in the trees on the rock ridge above and to one side of the cabin. He had followed a roundabout route along the slope that had been swept clear of snow to avoid leaving telltale tracks. Here he settled down, screened by trees, to await the visitors. As he watched, they stopped to check their weapons and then came confidently toward the site of the cabin. These were not pilgrims. They carried the air of seasoned fighters who had been to see the bear.

“Could be a tough fight, ‘less they decide the odds ain’t too good. Naw, these air some pretty tough white scum, an’ they wants killin’ tuh git even, an’ then they’ll steal whut they kin git,” thought Old Jake. “Tough, hardened killers, thets whut. No, wait. One of’em is havin’ trouble stayin’ in the saddle. Thar, almost fell. Ha, he’s drunk an’ he ain’t no white man. Looks like he’s a Rapahoe. So thet’s how they found us. Looks like they got ’im drunk an got ’im tuh show ’em the way here. Badger must ‘a bin talkin’. Wal, got tuh make the best of it. Ah’ll take him last since he probly cain’t shoot much in thet condition.” Funny how a man talked to himself when he was trying to think his way through trouble.

By now the intruders had spotted the cabin, and the entire group stopped a long rifle shot away. Old Jake was confident that Deer Woman would hold her fire until the right moment. He was sure his hours spent teaching her about the accuracy and range of the rifle would bear fruit. But he needed to be closer as

long as they remained this far away in order to take advantage of any surprise he might achieve. He slipped down through the trees using every scrap of cover-like coyote. Now if they started a fracas, he could count on getting at least one of them. One of the riders with a chest length blond beard cupped his hands and shouted:

“Come on out, yuh murderin’ son, we come to git whut’s ourn. We want them hosses yuh stole from Ransom, an’ the goods too.”

“Yeah, an’ we’ll take that woman too,” said another in a lower voice.

“Watch it Jack. They’s a rifle bein’ helt in that door,” cautioned another.

“Come on out an’ fight. We’re goin’ to kill yuh ennyways,” yelled blond beard.

Old Jake knew they were making talk until they decided what to do next. And then, blond beard started the ball. He lifted his rifle and fired at the door. The heavy ball dropped dramatically at the distance involved and struck the door near the base sending splinters in all directions, but not penetrating the tough wood. Old Jake could hear their voices but not the words as blond beard reloaded. He knew what would happen next, but still he held his fire. He would be wily, like the coyote.

Then it came. The five of them jumped their horses forward, and started toward the cabin. Within seconds a shot rang out from the cabin, and one of the riders slumped over the saddle clutching his side near his left hip. At the shot the four others dropped from their horses and fired on the cabin. At the same time Old Jake centered his sights on one of the attackers and shot him cleanly between the

shoulders at the base of the neck. He slammed against the ground without a sound. He would not fight again. The horses, spooked by the noise and smell of blood, broke away from the crouching men and bolted down the valley. The wounded man’s horse, too, reared and twisted to follow them, unseating the rider. Unfortunately, the stiffening left leg and foot caught in the stirrup, and he was dragged along by the horse as it lunged sideways to avoid the burden. The screams and pleadings offear and pain only served to increase the efforts of the terrified animal. This man would not make it either.

“Hey, Jack, they’s more uv ’em up in the trees. Let’s git otta here.”

“No! Git tuh cover. Cain’t be more’n one ‘r two uv ’em. We got tuh hev them horses an’ goods. The money’ll keep us all winter. We’ll smoke ’em out come dark.”

They split, with blond beard going to the trees on one side of the clearing, and the Arapahoe and the other white man coming to the side where Old Jake lay hidden.

Deer Woman’s second shot dusted the heels of blond beard, but did no real damage. A long afternoon of shots exchanged at long range began. The trapper did not participate. He would remain hidden and wait for his chance.

“Wal, things has improved considerable,” he thought. “The odds is better, an them fellers made a bad mistake losin’ their ponies thet way. Ah think Ah’ll jest wait until thet white nigger gits cold layin’ in the snow. When he moves, Ah’ll git ’im.” It would be a long afternoon, but facing two of them at once was too chancy. In the end, the attackers would have to move to get to their horses.

As the shadows lengthened in the late autumn afternoon, blond beard became impatient. He fired shot after shot into the door of the cabin, interspersing the shots with shouted insults. It was apparent that he had either two rifles, or a rifle and a pistol.

“Ah’m gonna burn yuh out, renegade,” he shouted.

“Yer woman’s gonna be stretched out an’ skinned alive,” he continued.

“We’ll bum yer eyeballs out afore yuh die,” and on and on went the afternoon.

Finally, Old Jake’s patience was rewarded. He saw a quick movement in trees below him. Now he knew where the other loafer from the fort was hiding. He had already seen where the Arapahoe lay, under another tree after he had puked in the snow and on himself. He would take care of that problem later. For now, he concentrated on the brush in which the white man was hiding. He wished Deer Woman would fire more often to keep them distracted. She had not fired for at least 30 minutes. He kept his Hawken sighted on the brush where he had seen the movement and waited. There! Movement again. And this time it was followed by a set of head and shoulders capped with a brown slouch hat. Old Jake set the sight and squeezed the trigger. The ball took the man immediately below the breast bone and with it, all the breath in his body.

He dropped from sight without a sound.

“Kelly, Kelly,” shouted blond beard. “Whut’s goin’ on over thar? You awright?”

“Hey, if yer awright, gimme a sign.” Now there was a tinge of panic in his voice.

“Ah’m comin’ fer yuh, nigger,” muttered Old Jake, and began a slow, careful stalk down the rock slope. His approach to the spot where the Indian was busy trying to avoid another attack from his queasy stomach, and focus his bleary eyes on his white companion. His discomfort and confusion was heightened by his inability to locate “Kelly”. As Old Jake stepped into the opening near the Indian, his presence was sensed, and the man summoned his faculties to draw his tomahawk and whirl to face the trapper. Too late. He took the famed trip up the Green River as the trapper’s knife slid under his ribs and into his heart.

“One left,” Old Jake said to no one in particular.

Moving to the edge of the trees, he studied the tree cover across the clearing.

It was not a long wait. Blond beard was obviously worried about the silence of his partners, and the predicament he now found in himself. He moved out of his tree cover to look around, and quickly moved back. Within minutes, he was moving again.

He had made up his mind to make for the horses that had fled down the valley.

Whether his companions could leave or not did not concern him. He was leaving. Old Jake decided to move down valley to a point where it narrowed. Here blond beard would be forced to show himself. The trapper would be waiting. He moved quickly, but surely through the trees. Taking a position at the edge of the trees, he waited, and as expected, blond beard appeared in the opening. Stepping from the trees, Old Jake said,

“Far nuff, fren. Yer luck jest ran out.”

“Wait. It’s a mistake. Ah’ll jest be on my way an’ no hard feelin’s,” pleaded the Blond Beard.

“Sorry. Yuh spent the day tryin’ to kill my woman. Now git on with it,” forced Old Jake.

“No! Ah—” and he raised his rifle. Old Jake’s ball caught him in the stomach, and he sank to his knees trying to hold his guts inside. But it was no use. He began to die, and his scream ripped the silence of the valley. Blond beard died hard even to his last gagging, choking breath.

Old Jake felt nothing as he looked at the dirty, unkempt figure lying face down in the snow, red stain slowly spreading out in the whiteness. He turned to walk back to the cabin. He would tend the dead in the morning. Now, he wanted only to see Deer Woman and Cub. The need was so great he could feel the ache in his chest, and that old familiar pain was back.

When Old Jake reached the cabin, he could hear Cub’s plaintive cries and questions to his mother. His fears returned, and he called out to let them know he was there. Cub rushed from the door, jabbering:

“Hurt. Much hurt, mother. You, come.” He grabbed Old Jake’s hand and tugged mightily. He was greeted by the sight of Deer Woman clutching her right arm.

Blood was streaming to the floor from a wound high in the arm, and the woman was swaying and ready to fall. Despite the pain and shock, however, her face was shining at the sight of the trapper. Moving quickly, he swept her into his arms, and carried her to the sleeping robes.

“It’s awright, gal. We gottum. They won’t be comin’ again,” he said quietly. He rekindled the fire and heated water. As he began washing the wound, he noted that Cub’s eyes were very round and staring. It was almost as if he was in shock. This was the first time he had seen his mother seriously hurt, and the thought that he would lose her produced a deep fear in his heart.

As he worked, the trapper kept up a steady stream of comments designed to reassure both the woman and child.

“It’s gonna be awright. Wounds deep, but didn’t hit nothin’ serious.”

“She bled good. Shouldn’t cause no problem.”

“Move thet bucket over here a bit, Cub.”

“Put them rags back in thet bucket.”

“Awright, now we’re gittin’ close. Cub, hand me sum o’ them cloths an’ we’ll git ’er tied up here.” He placed a cloth around the wound, then wrapped her arm tightly to her body to avoid movement that would reopen the wound. “Thar

naow. You lay back thar an’ rest. Ah’m gonna saddle Big Jake an’ take a quick look-see. Don’t think thar’s any more. But Ah wanna be sure.”

“No, you not go. I am afraid,” Deer Woman pled.

“Gotta, gal. Don’t worry. Ah’ll be back before yuh know it.” Cub promptly sat down and clutched her leg as if he would never again let go. He would the fear he was feeling the rest of his life. And he would the trapper. But for now, he needed to feel the warmth and comfort of his mother.

Old Jake checked his weapons, saddled Big Jake and rode out quickly. Skirting the edge of the timber, he rode to the entrance of the valley carefully studying the snow and the tracks in the fading light of the early evening. He was quite sure that the five attackers were all where they were, but his ingrained caution kept telling him that he needed to make sure. He wanted no surprises during the night.

Several es across the mouth of the valley revealed only five set of tracks. He was satisfied that no one else had been with the attackers. He started back to the cabin at the same careful, slow pace he used in his outward trip. His vigilance was rewarded when he saw the attacker’s horses watching him curiously from the trees on the far side of the valley. Attracted by the cabin and Old Jake’s horses, they had not continued their flight. When Old Jake rode up, they whickered a greeting to Big Jake, and did not attempt to run away. He had no trouble catching four of them, and attaching lead ropes to Big Jake. The fifth animal was still dragging the body of the man that had been shot by Deer Woman. The horse was still thoroughly spooked, and it took many minutes of soothing words before he could get a hand on the bridle.

Even tied to a tree the horse continued to shy away from the body and Old Jake’s

approach. Any attempt to try to lift the body and work the foot out of the stirrup met with no success. His other choice was to cut the foot off at the ankle. That, too, required some cooperation from the horse. Finally, in exasperation, he moved to the offside of the horse and slipped the cinch, letting both saddle and battered body with its unrecognizable head to the ground. He would take care of it tomorrow.

Leading the horses back to the cabin and corral, he stopped to check the body of blond beard. It was already stiffening in the crisp, cold evening air. The other three bodies were more easily checked in their cluster about the cabin. None of them would cause further problems. He unsaddled the horses and turned them into the corral. They would have to fend for themselves as strangers to Big Jake and the other horses.

The fire had burned down to coals, and he added wood to further heat the cabin. He knew that the shock of the wound would cause the woman to feel cold, and her wellbeing was foremost in his mind. He reheated the stew that had served as the mid-day meal, and made sure Deer Woman and Cub ate some of the hot food. But when he sat back to eat, the release of tension and worry hit him, and he felt exhausted. He set the bowl aside, and, fell asleep where he sat.

Once during the night he awoke as Deer Woman stirred, and tried to get up.

“What is it, gal?” he asked.

“I would have some water, my husband,” she said softly.

“Stay still. Ah’ll git it,” he responded. When she had drunk, he lay down beside

her with her hand in his and, they fell asleep again.

As daylight crept into the valley, he arose and took a quick look around the cabin. All was quiet, and after relieving himself, he returned to the inside and began the morning tasks. He fried bacon, and made a form of tea from berries and herbs and squaw bread. When everyone had eaten, he examined Deer Woman’s wound and decided that nothing more he could do for now. The bleeding had stopped and there was no sign of infection-or putrefaction-as Old Jake knew it. But then it was still early. Now it was time to bury the dead.

Unfortunately, during the early morning hours, crows and coyotes had gotten to the bodies. Eyes, portions of faces and other body parts were gone. Old Jake thought he recognized two of the men from the confrontation at the fort, but could not be sure. The Arapahoe he did not know at all. Two of the bodies were easier to bury than the others. They were rolled into small rock clefts, and rocks piled on top. It was necessary to bring out Big Jake, and drag the other three to spots where a hole could be dug. It was hard going in the rocky ground, but when the hole was done, he rolled the bodies into the common grave and replaced the gravel and rock. Satisfied, he decided to spend no more time on the task.

When he returned to the cabin, it was early afternoon, and he spent a long time just holding the woman and boy, and talking softly to them. Mostly he talked about his conviction that now the healing of body and mind could begin, and their future life be built. They would go on now. and he wanted his confidence to be felt by the only two people left to share his love.

Epilogue

Old Jake cautiously crossed the timbered ridge. He was moving in a crouch with his rifle ready and his eyes searching the slope in front of him. Big Jake, his riding mule and the Jenny used for packing, followed closely behind him. He had been tracking the small herd of deer across the slope of the mountain above the valley where he had lived these past 12 years. As he moved down the slope, he spotted their tell-tale movement in the small clump of trees a hundred and fifty paces below him. But as he moved to gain position for shooting, the pain in his chest hit him again, only this time it was much worse than before. Over the past year, the pains had come often, but they usually ed in a short time. This time the pain caused the muscles of his chest and shoulders to tighten and his legs became weak. He decided to rest a bit. He staggered to a small tree, and sat down in the shade cradling his rifle in his lap. Big Jake and Jeanette obediently stopped behind the tree to wait, and soon began to graze. The spring sun was warm and the sky cloudless. It was a good day.

Old Jake slowly relaxed, and as he did so, he thought back on the 12 years. They included some of the best of his life. Oh, there had been bad ones, but the good outweighed the bad by a wide margin. The woman he had come to love and treasure as a partner and friend had given him two children-a son and a daughter. The son was born in that first year and the daughter two years later. Part of the bad had been the fact that the daughter had been sickly, and died shortly after birth, but with Cub and the son Our People named White Bear, he was happy and satisfied. Cub was now 15 and White Bear was 12. Both were healthy and well on their way to becoming responsible men. Cub was quiet, intense and very much a product of his warrior, Indian background. Not that he was not quick to learn Old Jake’s white man ways when it suited the purpose, he just preferred the nomadic hunter life. White Bear was a cross between the two worlds and could live in either one. Old Jake was content with his two sons.

Their life had been comfortable in the mixed world where they lived. Winters were comfortable in the cabin in the valley they had chosen. Deer Woman had adapted to this way of life that was more secure than that in a tipi on the windswept winter plains, and she quietly exulted in the wisdom of the trapper. Springs and summers were spent hunting buffalo with Our People and autumns trapping the few beavers needed for trading. They had also been able to spend time hunting in the high mountain valleys of the Utes where Old Jake developed a strong bond with the people he had come to know on their first trip. He was welcomed in their councils as an elder statesman in the past few years. But things were changing. More and more white men were crowding into the plains and mountains. Only the Utes had been able to resist the incursion of settlers in their high mountain home.

In that first winter, the wisdom of his preparations to provide shelter and food had been proven. After the long, warm Indian summer, the winter had been one of the coldest he could . Game on the plains had been hard to get, and by the deepest part of winter word had come from Badger. There was no food, and smallpox had come to the Funny Man band. The disease had not yet reached Badger’s people, but without food for the starving, some must die. Old Jake had killed three of the deer that had made the valley their home, and gathered the stored food he could spare. During coldest weather he could , he took Big Jake and the jennys to Badger’s camp to share the food. Small pickings for a camp the size of Badgers, but it had served to establish the trapper as a continuing part of the life of the band. They never failed to make sure that excess food was shared with the trapper and Deer Woman.

In the spring, Deer Woman had given birth to White Bear, and each of the mares produced a colt. An event for the horses that was to continue and increase each year.

Despite his efforts to avoid entanglements that would hinder his hunting and trapping, he became somewhat of a rancher and horse trader. It was known over a broad region that good horses could be traded on the mountain of Pike.

But as he had said, all that was changing. The influx of white men with their whiskey to destroy the social structure of the tribes, and their guns to take away the buffalo that Our People depended on so heavily was bringing irreversible change. Old Jake had pondered the problem, and knew he would have to move. His choice had been to move to the high mountain valleys of the Ute. There was still time remaining to live as they had before this land, too, was eaten by those insatiable invaders. He had talked late into the night on many evenings with Deer Woman and their two sons in an effort to prepare them for this move. He was confident that if anything happened to him, they would be able to carry out the plan.

Old Jake dozed in the warm sun, long since having lost track of the deer he had stalked. He drifted in and out of awareness, ing the good times of his partnership with the remarkable woman who had come into his life 12 years before. He thought with pride of the two sons that had grown up under his teaching. And then the pain hit him again. This was the hardest of them all, and he realized it would be the last.

His head fell forward and he sank into the warm blackness.

JAKE

By

Merlin C. Williams

Chapter 1

White Bear’s horse, trailed by the eight mares and four mules topped the first and highest of the three es traversed by the Ute Trail on its way across the Continental Divide of the Rocky Mountains, and started across the bare, gentle Alpine slope to the second and third es before starting his descent in earnest. He had been following the trail up the east slope of the Rocky Mountains from the plains to the east. Through the spectacularly beautiful park surrounded by snow capped mountains at the headwaters of the Fall River to this nearly 12,000 foot for the past three days. His trail took him along the ridge between the headwaters of the Fall River, Cache La Poudre and a third river at the bottom of a narrow, steep-walled gorge. From the ridge, his view included steep-walled canyons, tree covered slopes, and small lakes in all directions. Some of the lakes had permanent ice formations just as some of the pine-covered slopes showed the effects of fires that swept across them. He was in no hurry, and used the excuse of needing to spare the horses and mules as much as possible during the long climb to the thin air he now experienced, to stop frequently and to enjoy the sight of this magnificent country. It was a trip he loved deeply, having traveled this route each summer with his father and mother during the annual trip made to visit and hunt with the Northern Utes. Sometimes his brother had come on the trips. Others, he had stayed with his grandfather and the tribe of Our People. Regardless, his father had never failed to take every opportunity to impart a love for the country and animals in it. He had also imparted the skills needed to live in it. His father’s love affair with these mountains was matched only by the love he had for his wife and two sons.

As he crossed the long treeless slope leading to the trail down through the trees to the headwaters of the Colorado River, he thought back to the time he had shared with the father who was so unlike any of the other men he knew. Gentle, considerate and yet an exacting taskmaster when he was using his store of experience and knowledge to prepare his sons for the changing world in which they lived. Whether it was teaching them letters and numbers-as he called reading, writing and arithmetic-tracking game, caring for the horse and mules or

becoming proficient with all of the weapons available to them, he expected their complete attention and best efforts. He was not at all tolerant of half-hearted efforts in anything.

Why he was called Old Jake, White Bear was not sure. He had not seemed old, probably because his patience, control of his temper and love for his sons made him more companion/mentor than stern, harsh tyrant or indifferent superior. Maybe a part of the old appellation came from the fact that he had named White Bear, Jake, as part of his white heritage. A distinction was necessary. What he did know was that the loss of his father had left a void that would never be completely filled. The loss of his mother had been as great a sorrow, but different in the sense of future and continuance of a being. All he knew was that he must try to fill the void by carrying forward those values ed to him by that dominant being of his early life. He was the one that had given him the belief in the continuity of life, and the hope for the future. That being was Old Jake.

He thought back to his last times with Old Jake. His father had gone out from their cabin to hunt. It was late in the year, but the autumn had been mild and a lazy Indian summer encouraged those with a love of aspens showing their colors in anticipation of winter, and crisp, clear skies, to participate in this miraculous transition to earth’s period of rest before renewal. Old Jake had taken that opportunity with the excuse of hunting for needed meat. He rode out with his oldest friend, Big Jake. One week later, and uncharacteristically, he was not back. White Bear’s mother Spotted Deer, who his father had called Deer Woman, had become more worried as the days ed. At the end of a week she had told Little Bear and White Bear that they must all go to find their father. After searching the slopes above their cabin, it was Little Bear who had spotted Big Jake on a grassy slope a day’s travel from the cabin. Big Jake and Jeannette were grazing in a small area near a clump of trees, high on the south slope of the mountain above the cabin. As Spotted Deer, White Bear and Little Bear approached, Big Jake moved to the trees and faced them. When Spotted Deer moved toward Big Jake, he immediately countered with bared teeth and threatening hooves. She attempted to move around him, but he blocked her. Each of her steps was tracked by his own. When she had moved halfway around the

clump of trees, she saw her husband seated under the trees with his Hawken cradled in his lap, and she gave a low cry. Big Jake, however, continued his role of watchdog for his friend.

It was Little Bear who broke the ime. He moved toward Big Jake talking in a low, soothing voice. The mule responded by a decrease in belligerence. His relief at finding someone he trusted to share his vigil was palpable. When Little Bear touched him, and began to rub his neck, he allowed himself to be led to the trees and tied. It was then that the little family moved to Old Jake, and Big Jake snorted and stamped in alarm. Spotted Deer began the death chant of Our People. The cold mountain air had kept the body from decomposing.

They carried the trapper home on the back of his friend, Big Jake, and for the first time in his life White Bear saw tears in the eyes of Little Bear to match his own. They buried the trapper on the side of the mountain overlooking the cabin and valley in the manner of his own people. White Bear and Little Bear had wanted to take him and bury him in the proper way of Our People. Spotted Deer would not hear of it. He must be buried in the mountains he loved in the manner of his people. And they had understood in the end.

White Bear’s small pack train moved into the trees, and his attention was caught by a small herd of elk led by a magnificent bull with horns that contained not less than 14 branches. He stopped the horses, and watched with pleasure the graceful movement of these large animals through the trees. He made no move to kill any of the herd since his pack mules carried the remains of a deer killed as he ed through the park surrounded by mountains lower down on the eastern slope. One thing Old Jake had impressed on his sons had been the fact that if you did not need food or furs for shelter or trade, you did not kill game needlessly.

He moved a couple more miles down the trail, and came to a clearing with a lake at one end. He would camp here for the night. Already, he could feel a chill in the air as the sun dipped below the mountains to the west. It would be dark

quickly. He set up camp in a few minutes, as Old Jake had would have done. This was a common stopping point for the tribes that moved back and forth across the Continental divide, and the campsite was well established. If Indians were in the vicinity, he was not particularly worried. Cautious—yes, but any traveling parties would most likely be either Arapahoe or Ute. He was one of the former and known to the latter. His father had been a friend of the Utes, and he knew their respect and friendship extended to him.

After he had eaten a sparse meal, he sat watching the embers of his carefully arranged fire slowly die out. It was a time of ing, because it was also a time of beginning for White Bear. His thoughts took him back to his mother’s death. Old Jake had died a peaceful death, contented with the life he had led. Spotted Deer had not. After the trapper’s death, Spotted Deer had lost interest in life. Old Jake had laid careful plans to move westward, and make a new home with the Utes where game was still plentiful.

And the land was not covered by the flood of whites that poured into the plains east of the mountains. He had gone over these plans a number of times with his wife and sons. They would move the next summer. When Old Jake’s death cut short the plans, Spotted Deer no longer entered into the discussions of Little Bear and White Bear. She found excuses and delayed. It was clear that she was not anxious to move. If she moved west, she would once again be an Arapahoe squaw with no husband among the enemy—the Utes. She delayed too long.

It was the second fall season after Old Jake’s death, and they had begun preparations for the winter. During the two years, White Bear had stayed with his mother. Even at the age of 12 he worked steadily beside Spotted Deer to care for the horses and mules and hunt the necessary food. Little Bear was more restless. He frequently visited his Grandfather to hunt and in the activities of the Arapahoe tribe. He had spent much of the past summer with Our People, and at the age of 17. White Bear was quite sure he had ed the warriors on their raids on other tribes. In fact, he was still with the Arapahoe when it happened.

When White Bear finished his evening chores and looked out at the valley he loved, he saw the horse herd streaming toward the cabin at full gallop. Something was wrong. He called to his mother in warning, and ran to the cabin for his weapons. Spotted Deer was farther down the stream from the cabin gathering some of the ripe raspberries that grew in the rocky, mountain soil. She, too, dropped everything and ran for the cabin, but the distance was too great. The horses streamed past the cabin and headed for cover up the side of the mountain. They were pursued by 11 men who veered away from the chase as soon as they saw the cabin and the running woman. They began firing as soon as they came into range, and one of the shots hit Spotted Deer squarely in the back as she ran through the door. She fell face down on the floor, and White Bear slammed and bolted the door.

As the boy moved to his mother, he could hear the attackers shouting loudly,

“I hit one up the scum. Did you see that?”

“Come on. Let’s finish me off an’ get after them horses.”

“Yeah, they’ll be with a bunch with them settlers up north.”

“Come on, but look out for the old man. I hear tell he can be mean as a badger in a comer.”

“Aw. he isn’t that tough. We kin handle ’im.”

“Yeah, we got more guns ‘n he has, an’ we didn’t cum over the trail yesterday.”

“Wal, look sharp.”

When White Bear knelt beside his mother, he knew she would not last long. Already the gray of death was spreading over her skin. She lay in the growing pool of blood, and could not move. Her breathing was quick and shallow. Her voice was very weak, and he had to lean over her to hear what she said.

“My son, I am going to be with your father. It will be a happy time. You must do as your father taught you. Gather your things. Go by the hole in the mountain. Go to our friends, the Arapahoe. Leave me now.” Her eyes closed briefly, and when they opened again, he could see the pleading in them. Then she was gone.

Moving quickly, he took two of the rifles and fired at targets through the door slot. He didn’t hit anything, but the attackers scattered for cover, and began firing furiously. He had gained time. He began feverishly moving everything he could into the tunnel behind the trap door. Tools, weapons, food, clothing, blankets, saddles, everything he could move. As he worked, he heard movement outside the cabin, then the thump, thump of objects hitting the roof. They were firing the cabin.

“Git back! Git back! We’ll roast the dirty renegade straight tub hell. An’ his half breed whelps’ll go with ’im.”

“Keep ’er bumin’. We gotta git after them horses.”

“Aw, they won’t go too far from the cabin. They kin wait.”

“Yeah. I wanta see them heathen roast.” The wooden shingles ignited quickly, and White Bear knew it was time to go. But he had one task left. With tears in his eyes, he drug his mother’s body to the trap door, and struggled to push it through. He would not give these killers the satisfaction of finding it among the ashes. Carefully closing the trapdoor, he moved the body back into the tunnel with the goods he had stored. He was very tired, but he knew he was far from done with his work.

Taking one of the picks from among the tools and lighting a homemade candle, he began prying and picking at the rocks above the entrance. They had been left loose intentionally, and it was only a matter of minutes before the pile of fallen rock completely covered the entrance. With the ruin from the burned cabin, it would be enough. By the feeble light of the candle, he had selected the best rifle, one of his father’s pistols, knife, tomahawk and the few camp items he would need. Binding these into a pack and grabbing one of the saddles, he had slipped out the tunnel and through the entrance located in the side of the mountain. He was careful to replace the covering of bushes. He had looked back once at the burning cabin, and felt the wash of grief and the following rage. He knew that he must control both, if he were to survive and avenge the murder of his mother by the white savages now visible in the light of the burning cabin. They had grown confident. That had helped him. At the age of fourteen, he had been rapidly thrust into manhood. He must all his father and grandfather had taught him.

White Bear, had moved rapidly up the slope, through the trees roughly following a course parallel to that he knew the horses had taken. He was not worried about being detected. After all, he had roamed over this area since earliest childhood. When he had reached a point several thousand feet above and about a half mile away, he paused to catch his breath after hauling both pack and saddle up the slope, and emitted a cry almost perfectly imitating that of a hunting golden eagle. He knew that the eagle did not hunt at night, but trusted that the whites

below would not be so observant as to notice. He repeated the cry three times over a five minute period, and was beginning to be nervous about staying in one spot too long, when he was gratified to hear and feel the hoof beats of rapidly approaching horses. Three horses approached—the big chestnut stallion that led the herd and two big paint mares. These were horses that had been handled and touched by White Bear and the rest of his family since birth and loved and trusted the boy totally. The stallion approached warily, but when he caught the scent of the young man, he moved close and started the game played since he was a colt. He was snuffling as he pushed the boy, this way and that with his nose to show his pleasure. The mares, too, crowded around seeking attention. White Bear was no less pleased and reassured, moving among them and running his hands over them to reassure and calm them. It seemed a very long time since he had last time seen them rather than just an afternoon ago. His task of reassurance completed, he had saddled the stallion and let him return to the other horses and mules.

The horses were where he knew they would be. They had bunched in a meadow a mile above the cabin, and were stamping and milling about in fear. As White Bear rode into the meadow and began trying to drive them further up and across the slope, he had immediately run into problems. In their panicked state, the horse herd had eluded him and broken into groups. There were too many for him to handle alone.

The stallion had solved his problem. Laying his ears back, baring his teeth and screaming shrilly, he had forced the group back together. He seemed to be everywhere, pushing, biting, kicking and intimidating until the group was forced to move submissively ahead of him. White Bear had been hard pressed to stay astride, but clung to his back with desperate strength. Finally moving, he guided the stallion, Red Eagle, toward the canyon he sought. It took hours to reach the box canyon. The goal he sought contained about ten acres of mixed pine forest and grass. It also hosted a small lade and stream that provided a flow of water to its lower reaches on the mountain only during spring runoff. The entrance was very narrow, and it was only a matter of minutes for him to move the carefully stored logs into place to form an almost invisible gate into place among the few trees covering the entrance. He had now secured the horses, but he knew it was

temporary. The small size of the canyon would only this large number of horses for a week to 10 days.

Unsaddling the stallion and turning him loose to provide control of the herd, he had selected one of the paint mares and a jenny for what came next. He knew the animals would need both stamina and a quiet nature for what must come. He saddled the mare and loaded his meager belongings on the mule. He then began the ride back down the mountain.

He rode carefully for over an hour, insuring that he covered his trail and avoided any possible with the whites. He rode to a spot on the creek above the cabin that was overlooked by a tree cover and a rock overhang that would let him remain in cover not more than a dozen feet above the trail along the stream. He had hidden the mare and jenny up the slope among a stand of aspen and now settled down amidst the thick boughs of one of the pines along the edge of the drop off. It had been a long, hard night, and as he waited for dawn, he dozed at times. Dawn resulted in gray light filtering in among the trees, and he knew he must stay awake. White Bear had uncased the bow his grandfather had given him, and strung it carefully with sinew bowstring. He then laid out the supply of arrows within easy reach. And he had waited again.

The sun was two hours old when he sensed a disturbance along the trail below him. He slipped to the edge of the overhang while still remaining in the cover of the tree. The approaching horseman had his head down following the trail of the horses, and fighting the sluggishness that came from an ample breakfast after a sleepless night. As the horseman ed beneath the overhang, White Bear raised to a crouching position with bow and arrow ready. He found himself looking down at the exposed back of the rider’s neck. The arrow ed through the neck and throat exiting just below the rider’s chin followed by a gush of blood. The rider dropped his rifle and reached for his throat with both hands while trying to scream. The only sound was the thump of the falling body and a horrible gurgling noise from the bloody throat. The rattle of hooves followed as the horse bolted away and trotted to a patch of grass up the trail. The rider

thrashed and jerked on the trail. It seemed like a long time for the man to die, but with a last wrenching spasm, the body relaxed and became still. The man had choked on his own blood. All of the many hours spent with his grandfather practicing with the bow and arrows had paid off. Even at fourteen years of age, he had been able to deliver a fatal blow. But, then, the target had only been eight feet away.

He had started to descend to the body when he again sensed a disturbance on the trail. More riders. He scurried back to his concealed position, and made ready with the bow and arrows.

“Dick, whar the hell are yuh? Why’d yuh leave me? Ah, jest stopped to git thet lousy coffee Ah drank. Whut yuh layin’ thar forrrrr-»,” and the arrow hit him at the base of the throat. This time White Bear was close enough to see the bulging eyes, the look of fear and panic, and the frantic efforts of the man to remove the arrow that had lodged firmly in the neck bone. He fell from the saddle, and died without sound with his blood soaking into the mat leaves on the trail. This time, White Bear waited patiently before descending. When no further riders appeared, he slipped off the rock and scalped both of the riders. He knew that a scalped body caused more panic in whites than otherwise. His grandfather had been careful to ensure that he understood that fact. He scrambled back up the rock to his hiding place and waited. Had he been fully Indian, he would have slipped away with the two scalps. His white nature and training, however, said finish the job now. It was a full hour before he was disturbed again and he was drowsy. This time the rider came from up the trail.

“Hey, what’re yuh doing layin’ thar. Git yur hosses an’ c’mon. Ah found the place whar the hosses stopped an’ bunched up. Whut the __? Whoa.” Now wary, the rider cautiously dismounted and approached the bodies with rifle ready.

“Dick? Jack? Are yuh hurt. Oh my Gawd.” He had just seen the wounds and scalped heads, and he bent to examine the bodies. This time the range was

greater for White Bear, and the arrow missed its mark and hit the man in the upper arm.

“Aieee! Ah’m hit. Injuns. My Gawd the place is crawlin’ with murderin’ redskins. Ah’m hit. Git back, any of yuh. “ And he plunged down the trail yelling at the top of his voice.

White Bear now panicked, and ran from cover toward his horses. If it not been for the diversion caused by the wounded man, the mistake could have been fatal. All he knew was that he wanted to get away from the dead bodies and the white men he knew would swarm to the spot. Already. other horses could be heard galloping toward the wounded man.

White Bear had calmed somewhat when he reached the horses safely, but he still ed with shame the panic and fear he had allowed to gain control of him. Quickly tying the extra weapons to the pack animal he mounted. Now he rode rapidly to the slope, and away from the only home he had known, but he did make sure that he maintained cover for his movements.

White Bear ed the grueling ride to his grandfather’s village without pleasure. The pain and sadness at the loss of his mother had ridden with him, and these feelings combined with his fatigue had caused him to rave wildly during the long ride through the remainder of the day and the following night. He arrived as day was breaking, and the commotion that resulted awakened the entire village.

“Grandfather, I seek Little Bear. The white men have killed our mother. We must go.”

“He is at the tip of his mother’s brother. He comes now. Who has done this thing?”

“I know not, grandfather. They came to kill us and steal the horses,” replied White Bear. “I have hidden the horses, but they will be found if they are left too long.”

“My brother, why have you come alone? Where is our mother?” asked Little Bear as he ran to the group. He was, at 17 years, a strongly built young man but already White Bear was slightly taller and heavier.

“She is dead. The white men came. They killed her and burned our house. They now seek the horses.”

“When did this happen?”

“Two nights ago, my brother.”

“You have traveled far and there are scalps on your saddle.”

“Yes, I counted coup on two of the enemy. One more escaped.”

“You have done well, but now we must mourn our mother.”

“No, my brother, the white men may still seek the horses. We must go to punish them. I am ready.”

“It shall be done. We will go.” said Little Bear with new respect in his voice.

“How many white men are there?” asked Badger.

“I know not, grandfather. Ten-maybe twice ten.”

“We will go with you. Our People must not let this .”

“No, grandfather, you cannot risk the long ride. We know your age makes it very dangerous for you to go. Your wisdom is needed here. If there are young men who wish to go with us, we would be honored,” replied Little Bear. His invitation was answered immediately by at least 15 young warriors who simply walked away to begin their preparation for the trip and the fight to come.

“White Bear, how did you kill these white men?” demanded Little Bear.

“I waited for them on the trail to the feeding ground of blue grouse. When they ed, I killed them silently with the bow and arrow of Our People. They did not die well,” answered White Bear.

“I feel a great sadness and shame that I was not there to help you, but now we must get ready. We will require time for preparation before we ride. You must

sleep, and gather strength for the return,” responded Little Bear.

“Yes, Little Bear, but do not leave here without me,” said White Bear.

“It shall be so. You have done well, warrior.” And with that accolade, White Bear ed into manhood.

Three hours later, White Bear was awakened. The warriors were ready. When he went to the mare and jenny, they greeted him nervously. Despite the fact that they had been cared for and fed, they were not comfortable in the company of all these strangers. The sight and smell of a familiar figure brought forth welcoming whickers and renewed activity on their part.

The trip back to the valley was uneventful. A party of 17 heavily armed warriors with full war paint was not taken lightly by anyone they met. Such a group was given a wide berth. Unfortunately, they did camp when night fell because of the reluctance on the part of the warriors to travel and fight at night. The result was that they did not arrive in the vicinity of the valley until late in the second day. The party was immediately divided into two groups. One group of seven was stationed at the mouth of the valley to intercept anyone trying to flee as Little Bear directed, since his age entitled him to lead the war party rather than White Bear. The rest of the warriors, pushed ahead on a circular route to the head of the valley where they made a cold camp. They had not worried about running into stray white men, since large campfires had been visible from a long way away, and at times shouts and laughter were carried to them by the wind. By all s the white men had not found the horses or they would have been seen. They were apparently emboldened by the lack of any evidence of Indians in the last two days, and were enjoying the comforts of camp while they strengthened their courage with whiskey.

Little Bear would attack on foot from the shelter of the trees as soon as there was enough light to see the sights of their guns. He had learned his lessons well from Old Jake and knew that a direct attack on horseback would provide advance warning, and, most likely unnecessary loss of life. They settled down in their robes to sleep or ponder the fight of the coming day. White Bear had immediately fallen into the deep sleep of complete fatigue. The events of the previous three days had placed a tremendous burden on a boy of 14.

White Bear had awakened in the cold, gray pre-dawn. The light was still too weak to permit an attack, but the warriors had prepared their weapons, and moved closer to the camp site of the white men. Last night’s fires emitted clouds of smoke as the freshening breeze accompanying dawn had fanned the embers into new life. The warriors had moved silently into position close to the white camp. There had been 11 huddled shapes near the smoking fires, which had puzzled White Bear. Having killed two and wounding one, he did not expect so many.

“Oh well, their total force outnumbered the whites anyway,” he had thought. Another mistake of youth and inexperience that had cost them a complete victory in the end was made. It had not been a good day for the Arapahoes. In his eagerness to be in the fight, one of the younger braves fired into one of the sleeping forms shortly after reaching their position. The delay in getting the rest of the war party into the fight resulted in a loss of only five of the white men. The rest scrambled quickly to the cover of the trees where their horses were tied, while maintaining a covering fire. The Arapahoes were forced to seek cover while they reloaded. The ensuing exchange of shots produced no results since both sides had good cover. Shortly thereafter, six white men mounted horses, and charged out of the trees heading for the mouth of the valley to escape. Shots at the moving targets by the Arapahoes were not successful again.

At the mouth of the valley, the warriors in the ambush had become anxious when the firing at the camp continued. The party decided to split with one group returning to the horses to permit riding to the camp. While they were they were

gone, the five mounted white men came galloping toward the escape opening. The four remaining Arapahoe managed to kill one more of the five and wound another who fell from his horse. In the rush to be first to count coup, the leading warrior was shot and killed instantly by the wounded man. Unable to reload, the white man drew his knife and prepared to fight. It was a futile gesture. The three remaining braves were on him like a pack of wolves, stabbing and hacking with knives and tomahawks until the screaming stopped. In the ensuing period the remaining three white men escaped down the valley.

The warriors of Our People quickly assembled and ed through the bodies to insure that no living remained. It was a strangely silent group with all of them aware that mistakes had been made that could have been serious or fatal on another day. Little Bear was bitterly critical of the performance, and vowed that he would continue his pursuit of the guilty white men on another day. In examining the bodies, he found that two of them that had been “shot” by the Arapahoe were actually those White Bear had killed three days before. Twice killed did not enhance their success. His anger and disappointment were keenly felt by the others. They began making preparations to leave, and by mid-day they had mounted and begun the long road with the body of the fallen brave.

The two brothers’ were left alone with their sorrow and loneliness. This had been a happy, protected place for them, and the realization that all was gone, and they might never see it again spread over them. No longer could they return to the comfort of home and family as they had known it. Each was grieved in his own way. Little Bear walked aimlessly and constantly around the area lost in thoughts and remembrance or the love and satisfaction he had had here. Each step took him back to events, good and bad, that he had lived. On the other hand, White Bear sat near the burned cabin with his own memories and grief for a long time. Finally, he said:

“Come, brother, we must prepare to return to Our People. My heart is bad in this place.”

“Yes, ‘White Bear. It is so. We must leave now,” responded Little Bear. They decided to remove the goods stored in the cave by White Bear, and close both entrances.

Their mother would have to be buried in the manner of the Arapahoe to make sure she could Old Jake as her last words had requested. She could not be locked in the cave.

Working steadily, it took until mid-afternoon the next day to complete all the tasks. The sad task of burying Spotted Deer began with wrapping her body in a blanket, and carrying it to the site of Old Jake’s grave on the hillside on the back of one of the mules. There, the two brothers dug a deep pit to avoid having animals dig into the grave, and placed the body at the bottom. They gathered thorny brush from nearby, and placed it on top of her body, and cut the braids from their hair and placed it on the brush. When they had filled the grave, they cut the hair from the mane and tail of the mule that had borne the woman to the site, and spread it over the grave. They did not kill the mule and place it with Deer Woman, but they did burn a few handfuls of cedar leaves at the grave. It did not meet the tradition of burning cedar leaves for four days and mourning, but it would have to do.

In the afternoon, they rode to the box canyon and brought back the horses. Red Eagle pranced and cavorted like a colt throughout the ride. He was delighted to be back with his friends. It was a friendship that would last for his entire life.

After a hurried breakfast the next morning, the brothers loaded the packs and started the trip back to Our People. Neither of them were willing to wait longer. The chance of having the three white men who had escaped return with a group of their friends bent on revenge was too great. They made much of the trip at night to avoid being seen with such a large number of horses.

Their arrival at the village of their grandfather was not met with celebration. The news of the escaping white men and the loss of one of the warriors was sufficiently discouraging to dampen any enthusiastic response. Within a week of returning, Little Bear announced that he was leaving in the morning. He would go to the fort of the Bent’s to seek the three white men first. His anger still burned hotly, and he vowed to find them and kill them. If he was not successful, he would spend the winter with their friends, the Cheyenne, and then resume the search when the grass became green again. Badger’s comment to White Bear was:

“He has found a woman of the Cheyenne that he wishes for a wife. But first, he must have the gifts for her father.”

“Ah, it is good. May Manatee give him happiness and many children,” said Little Bear. And so it was that White Bear was left to spend the last two years in the village of his grandfather. While he learned much about the ways of his Arapahoe ancestors, he had grown more and more dissatisfied with the life as time ed. More and more the tribal structure was deteriorating. No longer were they the lords and rulers of these plains and mountains as in the old days. The pressure of increasing numbers and influence of white men were destroying their way of life. The effects of whiskey, restricted hunting areas and decreasing herds of buffalo caused by the needless slaughter by the whites robbed them of their dignity, independence and, more importantly, their ability to feed and clothe themselves. More and more braves and their families drifted away, and the old ways of their ceremonies and religion began to be ignored and forgotten. Self reliance, pride, tribal law and customs were all sacrificed as pressure increased.

Two months earlier, Little Bear had returned from the Cheyenne with his wife, and White Bear felt renewed by the warmth and affection shared with his brother. It was a happy time marred only by White Bear’s announcement that he would go to live among the Utes when the grass became green. Little Bear was saddened by the news that this brother he loved might soon be gone forever, but consoled himself with the fact that his wife would give him a child in the spring.

He knew that White Bear’s decision was right. He was sure he was actually following the plan of Old Jake, and he envied his younger brother, because he too had seen the disappearance of the Old Ways. But he had tasks he had vowed to complete before he could leave, not the least of which was the completion of the punishment of his mother’s killers. His hate for whites had grown not just because of mother, but also because of what they were doing to his people.

The rightness of White Bear’s decision was further confirmed when Badger died peacefully in his sleep. Now, there was no one with whom to maintain the old ties. It was time to leave, and neither brother wished to stay to see the dissolution of the old way of life. They sat long into the evening talking quietly, each reluctant to end their time together. They had agreed to divide the horses and mules and all the things taken from the cabin. White Bear would have Red Eagle, eight mares and four mules. This would let him breed more horses and provide him with pack animals wherever his trail took him. Coincidentally, it would also expose him to danger from those red and white men who would covet these horses and mules. He was willing to risk that potential to live the life Old Jake had also lived in his last years. Little Bear took the remaining 20 horses and half of all the guns, tools, blankets, robes and other equipment and supplies. Even if he could not use everything, he could at least trade it. By right under Indian custom, he could have taken all but White Bear’s personal property. Old Jake’s training had been too strong for that to happen, however.

When all the arrangements had been made and the excess goods traded, both brothers had loaded their packs on the mules and bade each other goodbye, but not before they had established points and persons who would know where to find them. Now White Bear was high in the Rockies on his way to the land of the Utes. He had sat long before the fire, and only embers remained, but at 16 years of age and alone it was important to find his way to the future. Already, he was old beyond his years, and he knew clearly what he wanted to do.

Again, as he had done throughout his reverie, he checked the night sounds to make sure all was well. The four deer that had moved down to the lake and

drunk had bedded down on the slope above him. The pack of coyotes down the valley was still hunting, and an owl searched for a mouse in the meadow. Nothing was disturbed. He would sleep now.

Chapter 2

White Bear got an early start in the morning. The horses were still tired from yesterday’s long climb. It was not as hard to catch them and get them formed for the day’s travel. They each knew their place, and seemed resigned to another day’s travel. By noon, he had reached the valley of the Colorado River headwaters and stopped to rest the horses. The valley was covered with the new growth of spring. Wildflowers were just beginning to show their colors at this altitude, and the air was still and warm in this brilliant sunlight. Game seemed to abound as they moved back into these high meadows after the cold and snow of winter. White Bear was content.

He moved southward along the Colorado River for a short distance and then turned west, skirting the end of the line of 12,000-foot peaks that formed the western boundary of the narrow valley he was travelling. After a short rest, he then turned northwestward; heading for the over the mountains that separated the Colorado River from the North Park.

Already, the mountains had clouds forming on their peaks, and he knew he would need to find a sheltered spot to camp for the night before the shower that occurred so frequently at this time of year caught him. He found the spot part way up the slope to the among a stand of large pine trees. He was able to get the lean-to stretched between two trees and the fire going before the first drops fell. Moving to a small grassed opening he stretched a rope through the trees surrounding the grass, then he hobbled the horses and ran back to the leanto thoroughly soaked, and it was a long wet night.

In the morning the sun shone brightly on a clean world. The freshness exhilarated both man and animal, and they made good time. By nightfall, he had

worked his way well down the creek leading into the great bowl of North Park. He camped again without having seen any of the Utes. But then, he really hadn’t expected to encounter them this early in the spring. He fully expected that they were still making their way from the winter camp to these summer hunting grounds.

Two days later, White Bear was camped on the river below the mountain with the ears of a rabbit. His camp was located on the slope above the village campground of the Utes, and the horses had been hazed into one of the tree lined grass valleys. After the long trip, with the known leaders hobbled, the horses were content to stay nearby and feed. Later it would be harder to keep them from straying unless the village with its endless supply of young boys to herd the horses arrived soon.

White Bear spent 15 days hunting and fishing as his father had taught him to do, and to care for the horses before he saw any sign of the Utes. On the 16th day he saw smoke on the horizon and guessed that it was from the breakfast fires of the village. Still, it would not do to be caught by surprise by a Crow or Shoshone hunting party. He caught Red Eagle, and began rounding up the rest of the horses and mules. It took longer than expected since they had enjoyed a 15 day period without work, but he finally had them tethered, and ready to travel if the approaching party was hostile. He settled down to wait and watch.

Shortly after mid-day he noted movement in the trees at the creek nearly a mile away. The movement translated into two scouts who carefully made their way into the campground. They approached the trees below White Bear who had recognized them as of the Northern Ute band minutes before. He slipped silently to the edge of the trees. As the scouts ed the spot, he stepped out and said:

“Haugh. The son of Jake sees you.”

The reaction was immediate. Both scouts wheeled and leveled their rifles at White Bear.

“How do we know this? He who is called Jake has not been with us for many moons,” was the reply of the scouts who could not recognize this young man who been a boy the last time he came to this camp.

“I know you. You are Lame Bear, the friend of my father, and you are the son of Strong Bull. My father hunted with you many times.”

“Where is your father? Let him show himself.”

“My father, Jake, is dead for two summers, but I have come to be with his friends,” said White Bear.

“We will see. You must show yourself to the elders when the time comes. For now we will not kill you. Old Jake was a great man and a brother of one of the leaders of our tribe. We will see.”

“Give my greetings to Gray Hawk then.” White Bear replied.

“Haugh” and they moved back toward the approaching village. White Bear knew he would be watched closely, and hoped the cool heads among the tribe would prevail.

Later in the day, a larger party approached the spot where White Bear remained among the trees. One of the riders rode slowly, but sat erect and proud on his horse. His hair was completely white, and his face deeply lined. Even so, White Bear recognized Gray Hawk, who had aged much since the last time they had met.

“Where is the son of my brother Jake?” Gray Eagle called in a firm voice.

“I am here, Gray Hawk. I see you,” he replied.

“ You must come closer. I cannot see you.” the old man said as he dismounted. White Bear reasoned that if he meant harm, he would have remained on his horse. So he walked from the trees and stood before Gray Hawk with his rifle cradled loosely in his arms. Gray Hawk leaned close to the young man and then ran his hands over White Bear’s face and shoulders. It was obvious that the old man’s vision was nearly gone. Finally he said:

“Yes. It is my brother’s son. His nose and eyes are the same. He has strength in his shoulders and hands like his father. You are welcome in my tipi, son of Jake. Our young men will rejoice at your return. You must tell me of your father.”

“My father is dead these two summers, and my mother was killed by white men who came to steal horses, but my heart is happy to come to your tipi.” White Bear replied sadly.

“Ahhh. My heart grows heavy. I would hear more of this. Come.”

“I must bring my horses. I will come when I have them ready.”

“We would see these horses. If they are your father’s horses, they will be truly worthy of praise. Take us to them, and we will bring them.”

“I am grateful, Gray Hawk,” and White Bear led them to the tethered horses and mules.

The sight of the stallion and mares was too much for the Utes. For generations they had been breeders of horses, and had a great appreciation for good ones. These were indeed fine horses with straight legs and deep, strong chests and withers. The Utes moved to the horses and walked among them, running their hands over their shoulders and backs while the horses danced nervously at the presence of strangers. The mules received no similar attention. Their actions had clearly shown that they would not endure similar treatment.

“Ahhh. They are truly worthy of the esteem we hold for your father. We would ask for the favor of this stallion’s attention to our mares. He will make great young for them, “ commented Gray Hawk.

“It is an honor to grant this request by Gray Hawk. It shall be so,” replied White Bear.

The camp site was a beehive of activity, when they reached it. Preparations were being made for the night. It would take days to establish the summer camp, but for now basic needs were being met before nightfall. Gray Hawk’s tipi was being

erected; and they unloaded White Bear’s belongings beside it. He would live here as part of Gray Hawk’s family. He noticed that here his Arapahoe name was not used. Rather his name as the son of Old Jake was Jake.

Chapter 3

Jake spent the next two months hunting and participating in the forays of the Utes. On two occasions he had gone on raids to steal horses from the Crows. Their hunting had involved, primarily, the buffalo in the North Park that were generally found in small herds—quite unlike the massive herds of the Great Plains east of the mountains. As these small herds dispersed and the hunting became harder, the Ute hunters moved westward into the mountains to search for elk and deer. On one of the warm summer evenings in the second month of summer, a group of the Ute young men with whom Jake had renewed his previous friendship approached the tipi of Gray Hawk.

“Haugh, Jake. Tomorrow we go to hunt over the other side of the mountains of the Rabbit’s Ears. Go with us, and we will show you the house of the white man and his tame buffalo.”

“White man? There is a white man over the mountains? How can this be? He traps the beaver?”

“No. He came two summers ago with the tame buffalo. He has built a tipi of wood, and put up trees to keep the tame buffaloes close. We have not killed him yet. He has two women, and goes many times to the trail of the wagons of the white men in the land of the Shoshone. He returns with more tame buffalo and horses. He stays away from our people.”

“I will go, and see this man,” commented a thoughtful Jake.

The hunters left early the following morning amid much joking and boasting on the part of the young men. In addition to Jake, Left Hand Runs Fast, Elk Runner, Lame Bull and Young Wolf made up the party. The young warriors had accepted Jake into their activities readily on the basis of past acquaintance, his obvious ability and, to no little amount, the two scalps tied to his saddle. That he could conduct himself as a man and warrior was not questioned.

The hunters moved westward into the mountains at a leisurely pace, noting the locations of elk, deer and bears that would be hunted on the way back to camp. Here and there in the larger valleys, they would find small herds of buffaloes that were also carefully noted. They were in no hurry and after ing over the mountains, they turned southward into a long valley that pointed southeastward back into the range of mountains they had crossed. The sides of the valley enclosed the river they had been following since crossing the mountains. Jake knew from companions that this river turned to the west at a point north of their crossing and ed the Green River coming out of the land of the Shoshone where his father had trapped beaver before both rivers ed the Colorado River to the south. But here was the valley where this river began, and Jake knew that this valley was where he wanted to stay. The river, valley and mountains with their aspen and pine covered slopes all said, “here was a place he could live and have food and shelter for his horses.” Its location far from the trails of white men meant he would not be faced with the pressures encountered in his old home.

But what about this white man they had come to see? How had he come here? Were there others that would follow? How could the white man be permitted to stay in this land? His questions were met by shrugs on the part of his companions and the laconic comment that he would be dealt with.

It was mid-day on the fifth day that the hunters approached the spot where the white man lived. The hunters studied the location from a tree-covered point above the site itself. Jake noted that the location was well chosen with a cabin and barn with associated corral set at the base of vertical rock outcrop at its back.

A small stream ran down the small connecting valley that extended eastward from the main valley into the mountains. The stream ed within 50 steps of the cabin on its way to the main river. Jake, however, was singularly unimpressed with the buildings and fences. They were certainly not up to the standard his father had used in building his cabin on beaver creek. The roof of the cabin sagged dangerously, its one window was covered by a piece of canvas, and the door hung loosely on its leather hinges. The barn was nothing more than a patchwork of logs and poorly cut boards fastened into a most haphazard way. The fences were poles laid in a meandering line, and held in place by stumps and rocks.

The figure working on the grassy slope between the cabin and the river was obviously the White Man. He was dragging poles into place for extending the fence. Nearby, 14 cows or oxen grazed on the dry grass. The man moved about his task as if he was angry. His motions were jerky and impatient. He stamped stiffly from one spot to the other. Clearly this was not a task the man enjoyed. It was also clear to the hunters that he was far from the shelter of the cabin.

“Haugh,” announced Lame Bull. “We will through these trees, and talk with this man.” Their route down through the trees was well sheltered except for the last paces. They were nearly 50 paces across the open space before the man noticed and ran like a rabbit for the rifle leaned against the stack of poles.

“What a stupid man,” thought Jake. The Indians could have ridden him down long before he reached the rifle. Instead they rode slowly forward and stopped a few yards in front of the man who was now pointing the rifle first at one and then the other of the hunters.

“Whutta yuh want, yuh dirty, theivin’ redskins. Git offa my propity. Ye’r tresin”. Jake nearly laughed aloud. The white man was anything but the picture of cleanliness and neatness, and here he stood in the midst of the Ute tribal lands and accused them of tresing.

He was a stocky; florid faced man with a sagging belly and clothes that appeared to have gone unwashed for weeks. His face was unshaven and streaked with grime, and what could be seen of his head under the floppy hat he wore appeared mostly bald.

The man was cunning enough to realize that the odds were strongly against him, and had wisely decided to hold his fire. Instead he was trying bluster and belligerence. Neither had an effect on the hunters. Lame Bull began again.

“White man, we do not fear you. Our hearts are strong and you are standing on our hunting lands. We are—.”

“Arr., shut up yer jabbering yuh dirty monkey. Ah cain’t unnerstan’ that monkey talk. Noaw git off’n my land.”

“Jake my brother, I cannot not understand this fat dog’s words. Tell him what I say,” said Lame Bull.

“No, my brother, I will learn more if he does not know that I speak the words of the 17 white man. Try to speak with your hands.” When Lame Bull tried sign language, the result was the same.

“Don’t try no fancy hand wavin’ with me. Jest git,” he shouted in a loud voice. By now it was too late. Four of the Utes had slowly edged their horses into a circle around the man, and now had him completely covered with their weapons. The realization of that fact caused the man’s eyes to widen, and he quickly

turned in a full circle. It was simple to step forward, and take his rifle. Then he began to yell.

“Ere yuh filthy heathen. Yuh cain’t do thet.” Coyote stepped forward and pointed the rifle at his bulging waistline. He stopped immediately.

“Do not kill him yet. brother,” said Jake. “We need to look at this place to see what he is doing. In response, the Utes spread out leaving one to guard the white man. As Jake approached the cabin, a woman appeared and then tried to step back.

“Do not be afraid. We will not hurt you,” he called.

“Who are you? What are you doing here? What have you done to Adam? How can you speak English?” she said in a high, nervous voice. Jake changed his mind. It was a girl of no more than 13 or 14 years. She had startling blue eyes and hair the color of the grass in the late summer. She was of his father’s people, and it made him his grief.

“I am Jake. My father was white. We will not harm you, but you are in our country. Your father has stolen from our land. We wish to know what you do here.”

“He is not my father,” she said with disgust in her voice. “He brought my mother and me here two years ago. He is trying to raise cattle and sell them to the settlers going west on the great trail.”

“Where is your mother?” asked Jake.

“She died last year. She had—”

“Annie, git away from thet dirty Injun. Git back in the cabin or Ah’Il whup yuh good. “ His tirade was cut off by the sudden appearance of the muzzle of the rifle at his throat.

“Please! Go. He will wait until you are gone, and then beat me or worse. Please!” she pleaded.

“He will not hun you. If we do not kill him now, we will do so when we return.” Jake watched for a short time and then said, “We shall see,” and he returned to the man. “You are on Ute land. You do not belong here.”

“Wha— Yer speakin’ English. Who are yuh?”

“I am Jake and my father was white. I am of the Ute now. Why are you here?” Now a look of cunning entered the man’s eyes, and he could see him gain confidence at the thought that he might be allowed to live. Now his voice took on a wheedling, conciliatory tone that became more of a whine.

“Wal now boy, yer daddy wuz white, an’ us white folks need tuh stick together. Why not tell yer friends tuh be on their way. Ah’ll treat yuh right with sum’ white food an’ mebbe we kin have a little whiskey.”

“You are wrong. I do not wish your food or your whiskey. You are not wanted here.”

“Wal noaw, Ah settled this lan’ fair an’ square, an’ Ah’m sure the sojer’s will agree. Yuh cain’t make me leave.”

“Your white soldiers are not welcome here. This is the land of the Ute tribe. We will go now, but you must leave before we hunt here again when the grass grows. I will come again to see if you have harmed the girl. Do not touch her or we will kill you very slowly and chase your spirit from this land.” Jake signaled the other warriors and as they gathered, he said: “My brothers, let us leave this place. It smells of the white man, but the woman is weak and must be protected. I have told him he must leave before we come to hunt again in the time of green leaves because it is our land. If he is not gone or the woman is harmed, we will kill him slowly.”

“Haugh. Let us kill him now. He is the sickness on our land. We will take the woman,” said Left Hand. The argument moved quickly back and forth, but agreement was finally reached.

“Let us go hunt,” and Jake was relieved, not wishing this girl to suffer the same things his mother had, even though he knew she might face a far worse treatment with the white man than the Utes would give. As they left, Lame Bear threw the man’s rifle in the dirt at his feet, whirled his horse and galloped after the others.

The hunt was successful on their return trip, and everyone returned in high spirits. Jake’s thoughts, however, returned frequently to the valley. As often, his thoughts turned to the girl. But mostly, he thought about the future he might have with Utes. They had done an excellent job of keeping the white men and other tribes out of their high mountainlands. The rugged country, the prowess of the

Utes as warriors, and their ability to use their horsemanship to advantage had deterred any serious encroachment. Their tribal customs, discipline and determination had resisted change. Still, there were signs that changes felt by the Arapahoes earlier were catching up with the Utes. More and more white men were entering the land of the Utes to trade, explore, survey, hunt and even steal horses and women from the Utes. Now Jake had seen a white man who came to steal land from them.

As Jake’s thoughts roamed over these matters, he became increasingly convinced that it was merely a matter of time before the flood of settlers heading west over the great trail to the north would spill over into this favored land. His father had warned him that such a flood would occur in time. Adaptation to the changes brought about by this flood meant an acceptance of changes in their traditional way of life. Rejection of the changes would require retreating to increasingly remote locations. Old Jake had warned that the flood of white men was endless and in the end there would be no place to retreat. The delicate questions involved the most acceptable changes, the timing of the changes and the path that should be followed. Jake’s young mind did not formulate all of the considerations in a clearly defined way. Rather the thoughts that swirled in his mind resulted in a state of uneasiness and worry that made him increasingly withdrawn. Of one thing he was sure. The Indian way of life he loved was dying, and if he continued in it, he would be disappointed and dissatisfied with it. The only other way of life he knew was the one he had shared with his father—that of breeding and trading horses. That horses would be needed for the travel and work of men forever, he had no doubt. Men would always need the magic dogs, and here was a way he could maintain a part of the way of life he loved. Now, however, a new factor had been thrust into his thinking. The white man with the cattle puzzled him. Why should this man grow cattle? He had seen the ox trains at Bent’s fort, and realized they were useful for doing such work, but should anyone raise many cattle to eat when there was an endless supply of buffalo and other game to eat. Sure, the invading white men were killing more buffalo, but there were still a lot of them out there. He had seen the herds of buffalo numbering in the millions, and Manatee would certainly continue to provide them. Besides the meat of the cows was weak and tasteless and did not give strength to the body as the buffalo gave. So it would be important to continue to have buffalo.

It was all too much for Jake’s young mind. His efforts to talk to his friends about his concerns had been met with shrugs of indifference and blank looks. Life was good, the Utes were strong and they would live as they had. Finally, Jake went to Gray Hawk, and spent many hours trying to explain his thoughts. Gray Hawk listened with the patience of age, and stared into the past with nearly sightless eyes. Finally he said:

“You have wisdom beyond your years, Jake. Your father has taught you well. My eyes no longer see the future, but I have lived many years and can tell you of these things. I, too, fear for the future of our people. Before the white man came, our life was hard. When he came, and brought us magic dogs our life was better. Then more came and gave us guns, and our lives changed. We could hunt and eat easier, but we were also able to kill our brothers easier. Now he has brought wagons with many people, and builds houses, and changes the food that we eat. He makes our people work like women to make the land grow food for him eat. And, still he comes. He is like giant grasshoppers covering our land, and consuming everything. The buffalo become harder to find, and I fear a day will come when our people can no longer eat.” Gray Hawk continued for a long time recounting the many signs pointing to the destruction of the old ways. Finally, he said:

“You are right to be concerned. The way is clear for those who can accept the change. You must be as cunning as the coyote and live the white man’s ways. For me and my people it is too late for us to change. My heart is heavy for our people. We will be no more as our grandfathers were. But, I ask that you us.”

“Gray Hawk, I cannot forget as long as life is in me.”

Chapter 4

Jake had made up his mind to learn everything he needed about the growing of the tame cattle of the white man. He would take that information and build a new way of life. He did not need to be to be told how to raise horses. Old Jake had taught him all that was necessary.

During the remainder of the summer he made three trips back to the white man’s cabin. On his first visit, he was greeted with suspicion, and he was careful to avoid trouble. By the third visit, the man Adam was convinced that he had outsmarted Jake, and could control him. It was then that Jake made his proposal. He would stay at the ranch and work for no pay in exchange for the knowledge of raising cattle. He was not aware that his basic knowledge of animals already exceeded that of the slovenly white man. His youth and insecurity made it seem that he needed some special knowledge that the white man possessed. It was unfortunate that he was unaware of the lack of knowledge he would gain.

Now as he stood before Adam he did see the look of triumph, greed and cunning cross the dirty, bearded face. “Wal noaw, Ah isn’t shore thet Ah need no dirty, half-breed hanging’ round here stealing’ mah stuff. ‘Sides it’s hard work larnin’ about cows growin’, so yuh got to do whut Ah tell yuh and earn yur way.”

“I will stay until the grass grows green again. I do not steal, and I will work, but you must leave after the winter or the Utes will keep their promise about their land.”

“Ah isn’t so sure ’bout thet. Ah’ll be ready next time,” replied the man. Jake did

not respond. He had already established the depth of wisdom of this man, and he merely wished to gain his knowledge of cattle.

“Wal, Ah’ll take yuh on fer a spell. If yuh isn’t a good hand or Ah ketch yuh stealing’ ‘r doin’ damage, Ah’ll throw yuh out. Yuh’ll stay in the barn. The girl kin cook yer food same as mine, but yuh gotta do yer own huntin’,” concluded the white man.

“It will be so,” replied Jake.

A week later he returned with the four mules. He rode one as his father had done and carried his supplies and equipment on the other three. He did not bring Red Eagle and the mares, nor did he mention them to Adam. He did not trust this man with his prize possessions. He had made an agreement with Gray Hawk and his sons that they would keep the horses with the herd and return them in the spring in return for the services of Red Eagle with the Utes mares. His parting from the tribe and the horses was an exceedingly sorrowful one. It seemed that more and more he was cutting all his old ties. As he rode southward with the mules, waves of homesickness washed over him. Finally he steeled himself to put away these feelings. Although he would not forget them, they were past, and he must go forward.

His arrival was not a pleasant one. Adam seemed full of surprises.

“Wal, at least yuh came back. Them’s nice looking mules. They’ll come in handy aroun’ here, boy.”

“The mules are not part of our agreement. I will care for them, and you may not

touch or use them.”

“Yuh’ll do whut yer told yuh dirty redskin. Ah’m the boss here. Nether thing, Ah don’t want yuh near the girl or talking’ to ’err. Yuh hear? Ah ketch yuh hanging’ ’round ’err, Ah’ll kill yuh.”

“You will kill no one, white man, and if you do, my brothers, the Utes, will kill you very slowly,” replied Jake very quietly. “The mules are mine just as they were my fathers, and it is I who will keep them. I have no doubts about what will happen to you.” It became apparent to Jake as he scowled at the dirty man in front of him who now had a flash of concern on his dirty face that Adam had been struck close to the heart with this return. Obviously the words had a sobering effect on Adam who walked away to the accompanying string of profanity and the parting shot:

“Git yer lousy Injun stuff in the barn. Ah don’t want it in mah house, and Ah don’t want them mules near my cattle.” Jake stifled a grin. Having seen the man, he was content to put his belongings in the barn. He was sure the animals were cleaner than the man.

The mules were tethered up the valley from the cattle, and Jake began erecting the tipi that would serve as his home. He had been convinced that the tipi would protect him better than the ramshackle barn during the cold of winter. Accordingly, he had obtained the tipi from Gray Hawk. He quickly cut the poles needed for a long-term location and began erecting the tipi. Although it was a woman’s work, he had helped his mother as directed by Old Jake on many occasions. The location he had chosen was well above the cabin in a sheltered location among the trees. The location was near the water above the cabin and wood for fire was readily obtainable. He had done the best he could to ensure a good camp. His wisdom in selecting the traditional Indians dwelling over the cabin of the white man would be shown over and over again during the coming winter.

On the other hand, Adam Pearson was not pleased with Jake’s selection.

“Damn Injun’ hut. Be full a’ lice and all kinds ‘a vermin. Yuh stay away from that Annie, err Ah’ll hide yuh good. Never shade let ’imp stay in the fusty place,” he shouted to Anne.

“Why, Adam, he hasn’t done anything wrong. He isn’t asked for anything, and he seems quiet and polite,” the girl ventured.

“Jest sheet yer mouth, girl. Ah don’t want yuh taken’ up with no Injun. Yuh’ll see. Keep an eye on ’imp son’s he don’t steal nothing’ err try to git close to yuh.”

The next morning began what was to prove to be a very long winter for Jake. He arose at dawn as was the custom instilled in him by his father, and prepared a meal of venison and some of the Indian bread his father preferred. When he had eaten, he began completing his tasks of making the camp more permanent. He stored the equipment and clothing he would not be using. It was full daylight and Jake had started storing pack covers and robes when he was interrupted.

“Hey, yuh filthy Injun, wake up. Era’s yer breakfast. Git otter bed, we got work to do.” shouted the white man. He did not attempt to enter Jake’s lodge. Rather, he set a pot of food down in front of the tipi and shouted, “Hurry up an’ eat. Then go clean thet barn. None foyer lazy redskin doing’s here:’ and with that he went back to the cabin. Jake picked up the pot. The grayish, gooey mess inside made his stomach turn. He poked his finger into the sticky oatmeal and tasted a small blob. The taste was as bad as he imagined. He spat it out, and vowed that he would not again eat such food, even if it meant he must prepare it himself.

He went to the barn as directed, expecting to find the white man waiting to start his training. Instead, all he found was an accumulation of manure from the few cows and horses that indicated nearly total neglect. The white man was nowhere to be seen. Oh well, his father had given him some training and never would he have permitted such a mess as the one in this barn. He picked up the fork and began cleaning the interior of the barn. Not that it would make much difference because the barn was nothing more than a rather crude shelter for the animals anyway.

It was mid-morning when Adam Pearson appeared again.

“Wal noaw, we’re able to do sump thin’ even if ye’re a Injun. When yuh git this done, yuh kin start on the fences, redskin,” said the white man and disappeared back into the cabin. Jake spent the rest of the day cleaning the barn. No one brought food at mid-day, but he knew it was not a custom anyway. He wondered what Anne was doing. Had she prepared the food this morning? He guessed not. Is this what she ate? No wonder she seemed sad and frightened when he had talked to her.

It was nearly dark when Adam appeared with the same pot as had been used for the oatmeal.

“Here. Eat this, an’ when ye’re done, bring them cows up tuh the barn. Cain’t let ’em wander too far,” and then disappeared again. Jake looked at the featureless mess in the pot, and again his stomach rebelled. It should have been stew, but it was not the mixture of meat and wild vegetables made by his people that gave strength and good taste. From that day on he vowed he would eat his own food. Later he caught one of the mules and chased the cattle back to the clearing around the barn. It was not an easy task, since the mule had been trained to the tasks of hunting and packing rather than moving cattle, and Jake had never been

involved in trying to herd cows (Stupid animals”). The tendency was to overreact and run an individual down rather than consistently move them as a bunch. It took long after dark to get all of them returned.

Chapter 5

The pattern of days became the same. The unrelenting work of fencing, herding, pitching manure and preparing his food became a regular event. Now, however, he had begun to hunt at regular intervals. He knew he would need meat and the plants and roots available for food. He had asked Adam about food and been given some gray weevil filled flour, a small piece of bacon and a few hands full of beans. He didn’t know what to do with any of it and the smell of the rancid bacon was more than he could stand. However, his hunting had produced both deer and elk meat, and he savored the food of his people. At times he would drop off a part of his kill at the cabin, where the meat was accepted without thanks, almost as if it was expected as part of his work. The white man neither changed his attitude nor his abusive language toward Jake.

But he had made no effort to harm Jake physically either. That fact would not have surprised Jake if he had realized that in the last year he had grown in both height and girth. Jake was now an inch over six feet and his shoulders were showing the width inherited from his father. In fact, he stood three inches taller than Adam Pearson and considerably more muscular. He also had the peculiarly large hands of his father.

The work continued uninterrupted until the first week in November before he discovered the first mistake that was to cause him serious trouble later in the winter. It was then that the first serious snow fell, and the ground was completely covered with six inches of snow. By now they had built enough fence that the cattle could be held near the cabin without having them drift too far, but it also meant there was no feed for them. The mules were not a problem. They simply began digging the snow away and chewing the dried grass below. The cattle, however, merely stood and bawled miserably.

Fortunately, the cold weather rarely lasted long at this time of year, and in a couple days the snow had melted, but an unmistaken message had been sent to Jake. He had forgotten that each year his father had gathered a stack of hay to take care of the horses. He had expected that Adam would have made such plans, but the man either didn’t know or was too lazy to care. In more southerly parts of the area where Spanish ranches existed, it might not be so serious, but even there precautions were taken. Here in these mountains where the snow could buildup to depths of several feet, and last for weeks. It was a lesson to be ed. The other lesson he learned from the mules was that it would be necessary to help the cattle to expose the dried grass under the snow rather than depend on them doing it themselves.

Adam had cursed him soundly and demanded that he spend the days herding the cattle to areas where dried grass showed through the snow. It was a task that would be with him the rest of the winter, and get increasingly difficult as the snow began covering all of the ground.

Jake had seen little of Anne. Only on one occasion had she approached him as he worked on the fence. She had only spoken friendly in greeting before Adam appeared:

“Gal, Ah told yuh not to go near that damn Injun. Git back tuh the cabin, and don’t ever do it agin. Yon-Injun—yuh stay away from the girl, ’er Ah’ll kill yuh.”

“You will not kill me, white man. Death will come to you slowly if you try,” replied Jake with a smile.

“Yuh’ll see,” shouted Adam who was turning very red faced in anger as he stormed away. Since that time Jake had only seen glimpses of the girl as she

went about her chores.

After the first snow, the winter remained relatively mild until the beginning of the new year when it turned very cold but remained dry. Adam Pearson swore loudly and complained about the cold in the cabin. In the meantime, Jake was forced to chop holes in the ice on the creek so the animals could drink. Some days when the water had frozen on his moccasins and he was shaking with cold, he longed for the life in the village of Our People or the warmth of his father’s cabin. He knew, however, that his tipi with the fire and warm robes was much warmer than the cabin must be. He wondered again how the girl was faring.

Jake had also had to increase his hunting activities. The cold weather and snow in the higher elevations had driven the game to lower elevations. He had found that it was necessary to ride to the river and hunt among the willows and grassy meadows to maintain a steady supply of meat. More and more he shared the meat with the white man realizing that the girl would need to keep her strength to survive the winter.

The real blow came in the third month after the new year when the weather would begin to warm and the new grass would begin to show. Here in the mountains and valleys it remained locked in winter, however. For now, they entered the period of snows. For the next two month, snow was to fall nearly every week. Jake worked unceasingly to find food for the cattle, horses and mules. He drove the animals to the river where the mules did well in the willows and sparse grass. He tied logs behind the mules in an effort to clear the snow from grassy areas. The horses and mules were able to survive, but the cattle, however, began to waste away. The first one died within three weeks, and Jake tied a rope to its hind legs and dragged it to the cabin. The white man cursed him bitterly,

“Dumb Injun, why’nt yuh take keer o’ them cows? Don’t yuh know nuthin’? Shoulda kilt yuh the fust time yuh come sneakin’ aroun’ here.Yer too dumb and

theivin’ to take of them cows.” But Jake’s lip curled in disgust as he listened to the cursing and watched him cut some of the meat to eat. He would have none of this tasteless meat from the stupid, tame cattle. Meat from the strong buffalo who would have taken the winter in stride and given birth to their calves during the worst of the weather was much better and added to his strength.

As the days went on, Jake pulled more of the cattle to the cabin. But he noticed that the white man only cut away parts of the meat. He was too lazy to skin and butcher these animals. Valuable parts were being wasted, and Jake marveled at the stupidity of this man. Finally, in the last part of the fourth moon since cold came, the weather improved. The days warmed and the snow melted. Touches of green began to show in the grass areas, and the buds on the trees began to swell in preparation for coming leaves. Snow that continued to fall decreased and melted much quicker than before. The bad time was behind them, but the toll had been taken. Five cows and one bull remained. During that time two of the cows had calves. They would survive during the short periods of winter and snow that would continue for another moon.

It was the end of that period that the white man told Jake that he was leaving to visit the other white men to the north. He would leave in three days and return in a couple of weeks.

“Noaw, Ah want one 0’ them mules to pack mah stuff,” he demanded.

“No, the mules are mine. Use your other horse,” replied Jake.

“Well thet horse ain’t good. He’s old an’ slow. Naow gimme one 0’ them mules, yuh dirty heathen,” shouted Pearson.

“No. It shall not be so. I do not trust you. Use your own horses,” answered Jake. When the man left, Jake knew it was not finished, and that night he led the mules away from the cabin. He hid them in one of the canyons he had hunted during the winter.

Adam Pearson said nothing on the following day when he noticed that the mules were gone, but Jake caught him watching all of his movements during that and the following day. On the third day, Jake was working on a harness strap in the corner of the barn when the white man slipped up behind him and clubbed him between the shoulders with a short length of wood. Jake sprawled on the dirt floor unable to move. After viciously kicking him in the back and ribs, Adam shouted,

“Where’s them mules yuh dirty son? Ah want them mules. Naow tell me.” By now Jake was recovering from the blow, and rolled to the side where he avoided the next kick. Rising to his feet, he faced the man. Adam became wary.

“Yuh better tell me, ’er Ah’ll give yuh more, Injun.”

“You will not strike me again. Not while I look at you. If you try, I will kill you now, and it will be slow, I promise.” The white man, glared, turned red again and with fury showing in every part of his body, from his bloodshot eyes, to the rapidly clenching fists and shuffling feet, tried to move against this young redskin. But one thing kept him from attacking Jake. His eyes played over the breadth of his shoulders, and he had to look up to see Jake’s eyes. The odds were no longer in his favor. He began to fidget, and his eyes shifted. He would wait.

“Yuh’lI see, scum. Ah ain’t afeerd a’ the likes a’ you,” he said as he stumbled out the door.

“Yes, white man, I will see, but you are not the one who will make me run,” thought Jake, and he knew he would have to kill this thing called a man.

Adam Pearson departed within the hour, dragging the old gray horse that served as a pack animal. He was fully armed now, and carried a small pack of food and ammunition for his guns, but Jake was armed now as well. No more threats were made in his direction, and no further words were exchanged. He just left. Jake wondered again about the girl. Had the man left food? Did she have weapons to protect herself? Had wood been cut for a fire and warmth?

“Well, I will know soon enough if hunger and cold come to her. She is one of the weak white women like those of the preachers who came to tell us of the white man’s God, and must always be cared for. She will come to beg when she is cold and hungry,” he mused. He could not have been more wrong. The strength of the girl had been sorely tried during the winter. The combination of a cold, poorly built cabin, food that was more rotten than could normally be eaten and the relentless work imposed by the white man had forced her to grow stronger despite her fear, loneliness and depression in dealing with him. That man’s only exertion had been to go from his bed to a pile of robes before the fire where he issued his stream of orders for food, drink and attempts at receiving attention as a male. From somewhere, he was able to produce jug after jug of trade whisky that he consumed nearly all the time. Periodically, he would go out and feed the horses and bring more firewood to the cabin, but nothing more.

At first he had used the memory of her mother as a goal to force the girl to work. As the time ed, he increasingly used threats to force her into servitude. More and more he had also found excuses to put his hands on her and make obscene remarks. Many nights she had lain rigidly on the grass filled mattress covered with thin, worn blankets that served as a bed in the loft of the cabin, and prayed that he would not come to harm her. She knew that she must fight if he did, but she also knew that she would undoubtedly lose that fight.

He had not come, probably as much from the fact that he drank himself insensible most nights as from his concern for what the “redskin” would do if the girl made fuss. Without knowing these things, the girls anxiety during those long, cold nights with cold drafts blowing across her bed began to drain all of her energies, until she made a decision that she would not be defeated by this hulk of a man. It was this resolve coupled with her daily reading of the Bible that had been ingrained in her by her mother that started building an inner strength she would never lose.

It had been during those long, sleepless nights that she had asked herself why her mother had been fooled into accepting this man’s proposal to live with him on a “ranch”. But she had seen the desperation in her mother’s eyes as she buried the girl’s father far to the north on the trail to Oregon. She ed the desolate weeping in the night after the burial, and her mother’s plaintive requests to the leaders of the wagon train for help and advice. She could not go back since they were already over three months on the trail. She didn’t have the strength to go forward with the oxen, wagon and other livestock on her own. They could only promise to help as much as they could, but they already had more to do than they could handle with their own outfits.

It was then that Mr. Adam Pearson and two of his cronies showed up in their camp with a herd of oxen to trade for the worn-out animals of the wagon train. He was what was called a “road rancher”. He traded one healthy animal for two or three of the worn out oxen in the wagon train. These worn-out oxen were then taken to the grassy areas along the Sweetwater River, and given rest and grazing to recover before being traded to the next wagon train. If they did not recover, that was part of the business loss to the “road rancher.” Unfortunately, in the case of Adam Pearson some of the losses were recovered by helping himself to oxen that might be wandering from wagon trains at a distance while waiting to be picked up by their owners. Overall the profits to the “road rancher” were exorbitant in those cases where precious cash had to be paid for animals that died or “strayed” away.

Adam had not been the slovenly brute when he came to her mother’s camp that had come to be known after their moving to the “ranch” where she had now lived. He was clean shaven, sober, loquacious and very attentive to the “new widow” he discovered. Within days, he had convinced her mother that she would be well cared for, and better off at the “ranch.” The disappointment that had faced them after moving to this remote spot with their wagon and the few cattle Adam had, had been total for her mother. The lack of any sort of ranch, the decline in Adam’s appearance, attitude and behavior had all contributed to her mother’s rapid demise. When she realized the mistake she had made, she sank into a state of depression from which she never recovered. She had died broken in spirit and body the previous Spring after having served as nothing more than a slave for the man she despised. Unfortunately, that left Anne to the tender mercies of the same man.

Now, Anne arose from the dirt floor of the cabin where she had lain unconscious after being struck in the face after refusing to kiss the man goodbye. She had refused vehemently, even kicking him in the shins when he had grabbed her and attempted to hold her close. After striking her with his fist, and realizing that she was unconscious, he had cautiously looked around the cabin to make sure Jake was not near, and then left the cabin quickly and rode away. He had no desire to face the “breed”. Here, too, he would wait for another day to teach this child the true facts of life. After all, where could she go, and there would be another day. As for the Indian he would take care of him when he got back maybe with some help.

Anne emerged from the cabin and walked to the creek where she began bathing the left side of her face. While it was red and swollen, it was already showing ugly signs of black and blue. From the edge of the creek a short distance upstream, Jake watched curiously as she repeatedly splashed the cold water over the side of her face. Finally, he walked down to where she knelt and said:

“You are hurt?”

“It’s nothing. I’ll take care of it,” she responded.

“Your face. Did the white man strike you?”

“Yes, but it’ll be alright,” she assured him.

“I must kill him.”

“No.You can’t, he’s too strong,” she disagreed.

“We will see. He will return?”

“Three maybe four weeks, but he’ll come back,” she replied

“Come with me. My mother knew the ways of Our People to make these things better.”

“Where would we go?” she asked.

“To my lodge where I have kept these things.”

“I can’t. Wouldn’t be proper.”

“I would not harm you. I only wish to give you medicine, but it shall be as you wish.” And with that, he turned to go.

“Wait!” she cried. “I’ll go, but you gotta promise not to touch me.” Her overall fear still covered her. Jake merely nodded and kept walking. Anne followed hesitantly but was too curious to remain behind.

When they reached the tipi there was still dirty snow piled around its edges where it stood in the shelter of the trees. She was surprised at how warm and secure it felt when she stepped inside. The coals of the morning fire kept the temperature pleasantly comfortable. The interior was not neat. Clothes, tools, equipment, weapons and food spread around on the basis of convenience rather than appearance. It was not so much a question of being untidy as being practical. She noted with longing, the bundle of warm robes that made up the bed near the fire. How different than her bed of grass and blankets it was.

Jake moved to one of the packs and began rummaging through it, finally producing a horn flask that he handed to Anne.

“Here is salve. Put it on your face. It will make it better.” She opened the wooden stopper and sniffed cautiously. It had a pungent but not unpleasant smell. She put one forefinger in the salve and then spread a tiny among on the growing bruise. She felt a tingling yet cooling sensation.

“More,” said Jake motioning that she should slip her fingers into the horn and spread more on her face. When she followed instructions, he smiled broadly and said:

“Do this many times, and soon it will be better,” and turning he stepped out of the tipi. He walked back to the barn and resumed his task of mending the harness. As he worked, he thought about his situation. He did not like this ranch, the location, the man or the cows he had tended during the winter. He longed for the valley where he had lived with his father and mother with its carefully located cabin and well thought out order. He ruefully went over the decision that had brought him here rather than staying at the Mariana where the Cache La Poudre River ran on to the plains east of the mountains. He certainly would have learned more from a man like Mariana who was respected by Our People and whites as a successful rancher. And then he decided. He would find a new place that would be his own. Like his father’s place it should be. He would bring his horses to breed, and find different cows. Some cows that would care for themselves better would be good. Yes, that was the answer. He would go as soon as he could get ready.

The one problem that he did not have an answer for was what to do about the girl that the white man was hurting. He was not particularly interested in getting involved with her, but he also had a deep feeling that something must be done to help her. Why was he concerned about it? He could simply slip away, and let the problem solve itself one way or the other. But he knew that if she was left to face the white man when he returned, the answer would be ugly. And then he thought about what his mother had told him about what his father had done when he learned of her problem when they first met. Yes, that was the answer. He must help Anne return to her people as his father had done with his mother. That was the basis for his deep feeling of debt, and he must do something when left.

Anne had entered the barn as he worked. Now she said:

“If you are hungry, I’ll fix something to eat.”

“My heart is glad for your kindness, but I do not wish to eat your food,” he answered.

“Well I can cook almost as good as my mom,” she responded angrily.

“That may be so, but the meat of your cows is weak, and I must be strong. Soon I will go.”

“Well, maybe you just have something better.” she responded sarcastically. “Besides, where are you going?’

“Yes, it is better for our people. I go to look for my place to be home, but now you may share my food if you want.”

“Well—since you’re so smart, I’ll try it, but it isn’t dog meat is it? Adam says you eat dogs.”

“No, it is not the meat of a dog. But do not be quick to scorn others foods until you have tried it. We treasure the meat of dogs highly.” When he had rebuilt the fire and heated the stew, he gave her some on one of his father’s tin plates. The food was hot, and her eyes opened wide in surprise at her first taste. The venison had been simmered in it own juices with wild herbs and vegetables until the liquids had become a thick gravy. It was the most delicious thing she had eaten in months, and the meat did not have the rancid tang of the half rotten beef that

Adam Pearson had pronounced “aged”. She was amazed, but not so much that she forgot to eat. In fact, she ate two heaping bowls of the steaming stew. When they had finished the food and the bowls were cleaned, Jake announced:

“I will go tomorrow,” and immediately he saw the fear and surprise in her eyes.

“Go? Go where? What will happen to me? Why must you go?” she asked quickly. The rapid, panicked questioning startled Jake, and he looked more closely as he said:

“I must go to look for the place where I will live. But I will leave food for you. Do not worry.”

“But what if Adam comes back? He said he would hurt me when he got back. If you are here, he will not. He is afraid of you. I know he is,” she explained.

“If he returns, tell him I will kill him if he touches you. Tell him he must not touch my tipi or my belongings or he will surely die,” he said quietly.

“I—I—I can’t. Don’t leave me, please,” she stuttered desperately. Now he was becoming annoyed. This weakling of a white girl was becoming an unwanted problem, but he knew he could not leave her for the drunken white man. He made a quick decision.

“I will return in four days. He will not come back before then I am sure. You will stay in my tipi. Can you shoot?” he explained and asked.

“Yes, of course, but not well. My father taught me as a child when we started on our way to Oregon,” she answered.

“Good. I will leave a loaded pistol and powder and balls. If he comes back and comes near—shoot, but I think he will not be back before I return.” The girl had begun to stiffen her resolve, and pride began to show itself. She must not beg.

“I’ll be alright. Don’t worry yourself,” she said softly. Jake softened a bit more:

“Well, I’ll leave one of the mules too. Take care of her, and see that she has food and water. If the white man comes, ride that way,” he gestured southward toward the head of the valley. “Then I will find you.”

“Yes, I’ll do it,” her voice was almost a whisper.

Jake spent the rest of the day repairing the harness and preparing for the trip. He would travel fast and light, riding one mule and leading the other two. He did not worry about the cows. Now that the snow was gone from the valley itself, and the stream was no longer covered with ice, they could fend for themselves. Already, they were beginning to show signs of recovery from the winter, and three more of the cows were showing signs of carrying calves, a remarkable event after the suffering of the winter.

Toward sundown, he went to the cabin and told the girl to gather the belongings she wished to keep, and they would move them to the tipi. At first she was reluctant, but her fear and hatred of Adam won out. There was not much to

move. Only the few remaining personal belongings of her mother’s, and those given to her by her father were taken. They were all that remained of a life she would not know again.

“I will sleep in the barn tonight. You stay in the tipi,” he said. She didn’t object this time. The thought of the warm robes was enough to convince her.

Jake saddled, loaded the mules and left before the sun came up the next morning. He did not see the pale face peering from the flap of the tipi with no little fear showing in the eyes. He rode hard in a southeasterly direction investigating each of the valleys leading back into the mountains to the east. Most were small and without the means to horses and mules during the winter. The larger ones did not show the protection against weather and hostile men that was part of his search. He camped that night along the mainstream of the main valley near a small fire made Indian fashion. With his feet pointed to the warming glow of the embers and a warm robe enveloping him, he thought back on the day. It had been a pleasant, satisfying day, experiencing a feeling of freedom and satisfaction he had not had in a long time. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He drifted off to sleep with the noise of the mules and a hunting owl in his ears.

Back at the cabin site, Anne lay sleepless in the robes with the pistol clutched to her breast. At 15 the courage she had shown Jake was hard pressed to keep up her spirits in the dark. She was comforted by the night sounds made by the muleclose-tied to the trees near the tipi. The small animal sounds in the trees told her that nothing was amiss, but her heart nearly stopped at each new sound. She had spent the day arranging and rearranging the contents of the tipi and taking care of the mule. She had named the animal Mary Beth for her mother, and been rewarded for her pains by being ignored. Now she dozed off, only to be awakened by each new sound in her little world.

Jake’s second day was much like the first, except the slopes had grown steeper

and the overall river valley narrower. He was beginning to be frustrated as the afternoon wore on. Then as the sun reached the edge of the trees in the west, he found it. The valley he entered through a narrow opening with steep rock walls on either side was so much like the one selected by Old Jake that he-caught his breath in surprise. In the fading light, he saw the broad, grassy valley; cut by a winding stream that stretched for a mile or more from the opening area back toward the higher mountains. The ridges separated by more than a half mile on either side of the stream were steep and tree covered enough to keep the horses from straying. He would camp here and explore the valley in the daylight. He estimate that he traveled at least 40 miles from the cabin site, so he would need a full day’s riding in a direct line to return. That would give him one day in this valley before riding back to make his four-day deadline.

Anne’s second night was no easier than the first. Her premonition of danger grew with each ing hour. The comfort she had gained from the fact that Mary Beth had begun to warm up and accept her evaporated with each hour of darkness. Again, she clung to the comfort of the pistol clutched closely to her. It was another mostly sleepless but uneventful night.

Jake arose early and quickly began his exploration of the valley. His initial assessment had been accurate. The structure and resources of the valley were exactly what he envisioned as necessary to his plans for a working home. At the head of the valley, the stream began at the base of a small falls that dropped over a sheer rock wall. The wall completely cut off access to the valley from the mountainside, and the ridges on either side of the valley completed the protective barrier on three sides of a cabin site much like his father’s. He knew this must be his home.

Jake spent a leisurely two hours riding back down to the entrance of the valley where he once again turned southward toward the head of the main valley. By midafternoon he had worked his way to the headwaters of the main river past several more small valleys, and all he found was good. Cattle and horses could be contained in the area without the need for extensive fences. And Jake’s valley

would provide winter protection. He was satisfied. He rode back down the main river to the point where the stream from his valley entered the main stream, and camped for the night.

Jake awoke during the night with a feeling of foreboding about the situation back where Anne was. As the night continued, he awoke frequently with the worry growing. An hour before dawn he arose without attempting to sleep further to a gray, cloudy day that brought the promise of rain. It would be one of those near freezing spring rains that chilled to the bone, and he longed for the shelter of the tipi, but he knew there was no way around it except to push the mules to the hardest. Deep down he also felt it necessary to get back to give Anne the feeling of protection as well. Hunching his shoulders against the chill wind, he began pushing the mules northward in an effort to make as many miles as possible before the rain started. It began by mid-morning as a light drizzle that gradually grew to a steady rain. By noon the mules were slogging through the wet grass and patches of mud. Despite the rain, he was making good time following the more direct route down the main valley. He estimated that he had covered a little more than half of the way back, and was beginning to recognize landmarks familiar from some of his winter hunting.

The afternoon became very long with his muscles beginning to cramp from the cold and wet. He was forced to dismount and walk at times to loosen the muscles and warm feet grown cold as ice. With time ing the mules were beginning to labor and he was relieved that the cabin finally came into sight near dusk. First, because there were no horses in sight confirming that Adam had not returned, and second, simply by the fact that the trip in the rain was over. Since Adam had not returned he could look forward to getting out of the rain and into the warmth of the tipi .

As he neared the tipi, he noticed that there was no smoke rising, and no sign of life.

“Well, the girl must be in the cabin,” he said to himself, but when he twisted in the saddle to dismount, a shot rang out and he heard the ball whistle past his head.

“Haugh. Who is there?” he shouted as he grabbed his rifle.

“J-J-Jake? Is that you? I-I-I couldn’t see in the rain. I thought you was Adam,” and her words came in a rush. “I was so scared when I heard the mules, and I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well, you nearly took my head off. Then what would you have done? I told you I would come back in four days,” he said angrily.

“I’m sorry. Truly I am,” she said softly with her head down. “I made a terrible mistake.”

“Uhnh,” he grunted angrily and turned back to the mules. He unsaddled and unpacked quickly, and he took the mules to the clearing in the trees, hurrying to get back to the warmth of the tipi.

When he returned Anne had rekindled the fire, and was reheating some of the meager food she had prepared at noon. It was poor fare, but he ate hungrily, grateful that he did not have to prepare anything. Anne watched his every move, waiting for him to say something. When the silence lengthened, she said:

“Did you find something” How was it?”

“Yes, I have found the place. It is good. Now you must go to the cabin. We will talk of this in the morning.” Fear crept back into her voice as she said:

“But-but what if Adam comes? I won’t be able to get away?”

“I will hear him. Do not worry. You cannot stay here in the tipi if I am here, and I need the rest.” The morals and prudishness of his father had been ed on to him even in the midst of the Indian world where he had grown up.

“Take with you one of the robes to keep warm.” Reluctantly with all of the resentment clearly seen in every movement, she picked up the robe, and they walked to the cabin where she went inside and latched the flimsy door.

Jake lay in the sleeping robes gradually warming up and listening to the night noises despite the fatigue he felt after the long, cold day. He knew he must familiarize himself with these noises to make sure that he would detect changes signaling danger. Except for the monotonous drip of the rain against the buffalo hide walls of the tipi, everything was quiet. Even the birds and animals had sought shelter from the rain. He fell asleep with the feeling that everything was in its place.

Jake awoke instantly and jerked erect, straining to hear. All was NOT in its place. Some sound had penetrated his sleep and sent a warning signal to his brain. He got to his feet and picked up rifle, pistol and slipped his father’s Green River into his rawhide belt. Now he stood at the flap of the tipi straining to hear. The rain had stopped and a faint, gray tinge in the sky to the east announced the coming day. Birds were beginning to make themselves known in the trees, but nothing else moved.

There! A muffled curse came out of the dark, repeating what had awakened him. How could this be? Jake realized that he had made an error in his judgement as to when the white man would return. For some reason the white man had cut short his trip and was back. Now he could hear the broken, sucking noises of the tired horse’s hooves in the muddy ground. As he stepped out of the tipi, he bumped squarely into the girl as she ran to the shelter of the tipi. Tears ran down her face twisted in fear.

“Uff Jake, he’s back. Come on. We got run,” she whispered.

“No, we will not run from this man. He must be made to understand that he cannot harm us.”

“But he will kill us. We gotta get to the mules. Hide,” she said quickly.

“No. Go inside. I will watch for him.” When she obeyed, he slipped quietly through the trees and took up watch at the edge of the clearing. Two men were stumbling around in the mud near the cabin with six horses. The two saddled horses and four packhorses stood slackly with heads down, obviously worn out. The men have pushed on without stopping for the night to rest or give the animals rest because of the rain and cold. They stumbled to the cabin door and began shouting:

“Hey, gal. Git up an’ git the fahr goin’. We’re cold an’ need sumpin’ to eat.”

“Git up, yuh lazy slut. We got a s’prise fer yuh.”

“Where are yuh?” Then to each other:

“Prob’ly run off with thet Injun scum. Ah’’ll kill tim both if Ah find ’er up there with him.”

“Not ‘fore we’re through with ’er from whut yuh tell me.”

“Yeah, wal we’ll take keer ‘0 thet, too. Come on let’s go look in thet tipi right naow.”

“Cain’t we wait til its light so’s we kin see ’em better?”

“Naw. They might run off iff’n we do.”

“Wal, alright. You go ahead, an’ Ah’ll tie these hosses up.” Adam started toward the spot where Jake stood with rifle held ready. When he was 25 paces from him Jake stepped from the trees and faced him saying:

“You will go no further white man. Go back to your cabin.” Adams response was:

“Hey Bob. Come arunnin’. We got this Injun nigger now. We kin finish ’im.” To Jake he snarled:

“So yuh snuck off with thet slut of a gal. Wal, we’ll take keer of her later, but fust, yuh git yer’s. There’s two of us now, an’ Ah ain’t takin’ any more of yer back talk. Git ready tuh die.” Bob was already running toward the two of them, and the thought of two to one odds caused Adam to raise his rifle and fire. Unfortunately for him, his hurried shot missed, and Jake’s rifle boomed and belched fire, smoke and lead in response. He didn’t miss and Adam would never again bully anyone. He sprawled face first into the mud without a sound. Jake lunged for the cover of the trees and tried to reload, but he didn’t make it. Bob’s shot caught him in the fleshy part of his left hip and drove him into the brush.

“Hey Adam! Did yuh see thet, Ahgot the dirty son. Come on. Let’s finish ’im off. Adam? Adam? Hey! Whut’s the matter with yuh?” and he leaned over the fallen white man to see why he didn’t get an answer. Then he saw that the lower half of Adam’s face wasn’t there. Jerking erect and fighting to keep from gagging, he began backing away and reloading his rifle. He was cautious now, and would not blunder into the brush without more careful preparation. That was his mistake.

In the screening brush, Jake lay fighting to remain conscious. It was a losing battle. Waves of pain and nausea washed over him. He sank into blackness, which would have been a good time for the white man to finish him. However, it was at that time that a lone pistol shot rang out in the woods near him and the ball raised a fountain of mud and water near the retreating white man causing him to wheel and run for the cabin. Bob decided to fort up until he knew how many and the condition of his enemies he had to face. That was his second mistake.

Bob was considerably smarter than Adam, and a much more cunning fighter. He possessed both the ability and the patience needed in the kind of fights waged in this country. He would pick the time most favorable to himself to make his move. He had met his old partner from the road ranching activities three days ride from the cabin, and they immediately ed forces again. His overly shrewd

trading with the immigrantson the Oregon Trail had made it necessary to “retire” from the business until some of his deeds were forgotten. He had, in fact, angered two of the wagon train scouts to the point where they had tracked him for two days with avowed purpose of killing him before being forced to return to their duties in Missouri. He had gathered what trade goods he could carry on his three pack horses and headed south looking for his old partner Adam to find a place to hole-up. He would trade for furs or horses whenever possible, but mostly he needed a place to hide until the furor along the wagon trail died down.

Adam Pearson’s exaggerated tales of his “ranch” and the white girl that waited for them were enough to convince him that he had made the right choice.On the third day of their return trip, when the rain came, they had decided to push on to the comforts of Adam’s cabin rather than make a wet camp. Now he was holedup in that cabin, and seriously questioning the trust he had placed in his now dead partner.

Jake regained consciousness to racking, jolting pain and realized he was being dragged through the brush over the rough ground by one arm. When he groaned and asked to stop, he looked up to see Anne trying to hold his rifle, clutch his arm and drag him through the trees backward at the same time, all the while pleading in a low, sobbing voice.

“Please! Please! Wake up! We must get to the mules. Please wake up. I can’t go any more.” It was then that he said;

“Anne, stop! Help me up and reload the guns. We got to get ready.” And she sank to the ground sobbing in relief. He talked softly to her, telling her to get up and help him to his feet. Meanwhile, he thought of the quiet strength and courage of his mother that he heard about and had actually seen in his childhood. Deep down in her being, some of that same character could be seen in this young girl.

Helping him to his feet, she took his right arm over her shoulder while he used the rifle in his left hand as a crutch, and they moved haltingly back to the tipi. The two hurried frantically to move everything they could before leaving. A strip of cloth was wrapped around Jake’s waist and tied in place over the wound. Weapons, food, bedding and utensils were quickly stacked and readied. Jake sent Anne to get the mules and set up a watch in the direction of the cabin. With weapons loaded, he did not hear the white man, but was not overconfident either, until he heard the slight rustle behind him and felt the presence of another being. Tensing, he poised himself to whirl and face the unknown visitor. Then he heard the soft chuckle and a voice said:

“Haugh, brother, you are growing careless. The white man ways make you weak.” When he turned to look the five Ute braves stood just across the clearing in the trees with broad smiles. Left Hand, Lame Bull, Elk Runner, Runs Fast and Young Wolf had returned, and relief spread through Jake with a warm flood. He limped to his waiting friends and greeted them with warmth.

“My brother’s, you are more welcome than a new buffalo runner. I wait for the white man to come. He wishes me harm. I must kill him.”

“In time, friend. It would seem he has already harmed you. We will rest, eat, then we will care for him in our way. He must be shown what happens when he comes into our land without invitation and harms one of us,” replied Left Hand.

“The girl, she will be—.”

“Do not trouble yourself,” said Lame Bull. “Black Hawk and Mad Dog are with her and the horses.” And sure enough Jake heard the quickly silenced squeak of

surprise and fear as Anne discovered her visitors. When Black Hawk brought her to the other, her eyes opened even more at the sight of five more braves. She was completely terrified, but Jake assured her that these were friends that would help them. She was not convinced. Her body remained stiff and erect as she sank to the pile of robes near the tipi.

Jake and the Utes conversed quietly for several minutes during which Jake told them about the fight with the two white man and the death of one of them. Their response was that Jake had done a good job in getting one of them, and it was decided that two of them would guard the cabin to make sure the remaining white man did not escape. They are relieved by others throughout the day and night. Meanwhile, stores of meat, berries and nuts were brought from the tipi and preparations made to eat. Anne ed Jake hesitantly in the cooking, and before long meat was roasting and a pot of vegetables boiling. Even this plain meal welcomed by the Utes who had been on a diet of cold trail food.

“We have brought your horses, brother,” Left Hand informed him. They did not mention the fact that they had also come to see if the white man had left as he had been told.

“Do you still wish to stay in this place, White Bear?” said Lame Bull using his Indian name.

“I have found a place where the river is born. I will place my lodge there and make the horses, and maybe some cows, grow. It will be a place where you are always welcome,” he replied.

“What of the girl?” asked Elk Runner.

“I do not know. She should be taken back to her kind. I am not sure she belongs in this country.”

“We cannot do that for you. The whites would kill us, saying we had stolen her,” noted Left Hand.

“ It is so. I must look for a way,” answered Jake. Anne did not understand the conversation, but had her own ideas about her future. Unrealistic as they were, she believed she could stay here on this, the only home she had known for the last three years. Her memories of the hardships, sickness and death of the wagon trail were a big factor in her feelings.

Late in the afternoon one of the Utes, Mad Dog, who had been standing watch on the white man returned to the tipi with news. The white man appeared to be packing and making ready to leave.

“Ah, we will meet him on the trail. Surely he will try to go back to his friends to the north. It is good. We will have much to talk about,” said Left Hand. The others laughed heartily.

“I will go too,” said Jake.

“No, brother. You have already taken one scalp, and now it is our turn. We must do this thing as warriors, and show the whites that this is our land. The warriors prepared for the coming day, putting war paint carefully on their faces, arms and chests, making weapons ready and bringing the horses to the camp. But their best laid plans were for naught. Well before dawn, one of the braves watching the cabin ran into camp and announced that the white man had fled in the dark of

night. It was no great surprise to Jake that the other Utes smiled broadly in anticipation, and Left Hand said:

“Ah. The hunt becomes interesting. Now we can test our manhood.” Within minutes they were mounting and moving toward the cabin to pick up the trail. Young Wolf tarried enough to say:

“Where will we find you when we return, brother? We wish to see this place where you will live.”

“Go to the last fork of the river that flows from the morning sun to the main river here below us. between the rocks that guard the entrance to the valley. You will find my tracks.” He knew it was unnecessary to make this last statement, but he wanted to make sure his welcome was extended.

“Haugh. It will be so.”

“Good hunting. Go as the coyote goes,” he said ing his father’s onition for caution.

As the Utes filed out, Anne regained some of her confidence.

“Where are they going? Will they come back? Why have they put that stuff on their faces? They look horrible.” It was time for Jake to impress her with the gravity and reality of the life in these mountains.

“They go to hunt the white man,” he replied.

“Hunt the white man? What do you mean? Will they hurt him?” she asked.

“They will kill him.”

“But they can’t just kill him. That’s not right,” she complained.

“This man has tried to kill me. The Utes are my brothers. This is their land, and he has harmed one of us. He must pay for his work.”

“But-but—the law,” she mumbled.

“It is their law and their land. If he does not respect that, then he must pay, just as I must respect the laws and ways of these people. Now come. We must make ready to leave this place. You must go to your people.”

“My people? But I have no people. I don’t know where to go. I’ll stay here. I can take care of myself,” she replied nervously. Now Jake was getting exasperated again.

“You cannot live alone. You know nothing of taking care of yourself in this country. You must go to your own white people who will help you.” Now she tried persuasion:

“Please. I can work. I will learn. I can live in this—this tent. But I am afraid of white men like Adam. Don’t make me go, because I won’t know how to find the right white people.” Jake’s face didn’t change, but his confusion and uncertainty were apparent as he wavered in his resolve. Deep down, he too was concerned about going to a place where there were a number of white men after being shot by one who was not Adam.

“Well, you can go along until I get settled. Then we must decide what to do with you,” he finally agreed. Basically, his youth showed as he felt the uncertainty and mistrust of an adult world that had treated both of them harshly. Here was a kindred, lonely person. His decision was made, and he would see that she was cared for until he could be sure that she was able to find someone that could he trusted. The decision was made, and it was time to move out of this area.

Chapter 6

Jake limped about their camp area, getting the things they would take with them together to move to his new land. It would be a good land, and he truly looked forward to the chance it gave him.

“We must pack and be moving. Bring the mules and horses so that we can load them,” he brusquely demanded, trying to hide what he felt was a weakness brought out by his decision. She smiled uncertainly, not fully understanding what had happened, and ran to get the animals. It was no small task for the young, slight girl. Each animal had to be brought separately, since she too small to handle them together. She brought the mules first, because they were used to her presence, and Jake hobbled to the task of loading them with their belongings. The horses were not so easy, having had a long winter of relative inactivity. Anne clung fiercely to the lead ropes and coaxed, dragged, dodged flying hooves and teeth all the while suffering scratches from the brush and bumps from the trees. She refused to give up. She must show that she could carry her share of the load.

Finally, everything was ready and Jake helped Anne to the saddle of one of the horses. He handed the lead ropes of the mules to the girl, knowing they would be easier to handle than the horses. Mounting Red Eagle, he set off for the south. It was past midday, and he knew they would not reach the valley before night fell, but he wanted to get as close as possible.

As they started, the horses moved at a brisk pace which was a good sign, but when they reached the cabin, Jake stopped and tied the lead horse to the fence. He piled as much flammable material as he could find in the middle of the floor and set it on fire. He did not wish to have any of the wandering hunters, trappers,

outlaws or curious settlers move into it; and become unwanted neighbors. Anne watched with misgivings and dismay as the flames engulfed the dry logs. After all, her mother was buried near this cabin and it had been her home for two years.

Jake remounted Red Eagle and they again began moving southward toward the river. Jake would return one more time after getting his camp set in his new homeland to pick up the cattle and their calves. They camped that night a dozen miles to the south. Before they were done with the unloading, care for the animals and cooking, Jake was not sure his decision to travel that day had been a wise one. His wounded hip and leg had stiffened during the long day in the saddle, and the work of unloading and setting up camp had been almost unbearably painful. It was another lesson for the youth. The unbounded optimism and faith in the invincibility of youth was being tested by the hard taskmaster of experience. He would survive, but have gained wisdom for another day. As his movements slowed, Anne tried to increase hers as a way to make up for his lack. She scurried here and there, pushing, pulling and trying to be useful. The result was that she, too, ended up being so tired that she felt she could not move another foot.

At dawn, Jake dragged himself from his robes and found that his leg had stiffened to the point where he could not walk. Slowly he began exercising the numbed muscles until he began to regain control of them. He would need some of the medicines his mother had taught him to use, but first, they needed to reach the valley.

They ate a meager breakfast and began the ride southward. Anne’s unfamiliarity with the food and ways of cooking required by Jake’s utensils limited what she could do, and the task of loading the horses and mules was as much as she could do. The day wore on, by mid afternoon, they reached the entrance to the valley. Anne caught her breath as she glimpsed the valley and said with childlike confidence:

“It’s beautiful, Jake and no one could ever find us here.” Jake knew better. There was really nowhere in these mountains he loved so well that man had not been. Either his Indian ancestors or the white trappers like his father had known all this land. But neither of these groups had had the burning desire of the white zealots who made maps and encouraged their fellow men to colonize and settle it. Deep in his heart he knew that one day they would come, but he would enjoy the solitude until then. He moved toward the head of the valley eagerly.

They made camp that night on the site chosen for his cabin. A site so like the one his father had chosen so many years ago that it would have seemed uncanny to someone unaware of the thoroughness with which he had learned his father’s lessons. In the morning Jake tethered the horses on the grass that was becoming green, and then cut new poles for the tipi. They would have shelter until he was able to begin building the cabin. He wasn’t sure that he knew how to build a cabin, but he had seen Old Jake build one of the outbuildings at his old home a few years ago, and decided it was merely a matter of applying the same techniques. He would learn a great deal during the process, but for now he was confident that the most difficult task he now had was getting the heavy buffalo hide cover over the tipi poles. Even with the help of the girl, it was a long task for the wounded youth.

Miles to the north, the six Utes were trailing the white man through the sagebrush and patches of timber with no difficulty. For them, it was a pleasant diversion with certain outcome, and they would prolong the end as long as possible. By the end of the third day they had come to the Bear River in the middle of the big east-west valley, and they made their decision. They would end the game tomorrow before they came any closer to the land of the Crows and Shoshone to the north and the trail of the white men. In the twilight, they circled carefully around the clearly visible campfire of the white man who had grown confident with his increasing distance from the cabin. They settled down to wait for morning.

As the sun rose in the eastern sky and the birds darted here and there on their

early morning business, Bob rode along the trail to the north dragging the three pack horses behind him. He was slouched in the saddle with no thought of danger in preparation for another uneventful day. He had left that wounded Injun behind, and was sure he could not overtake him now. He would get back to the wagon trail and hole up for a few weeks, and then make with one of the newer wagon trains where he was not known. Easy as pie. Sure, ol’ Adam was dead, but hadn’t he showed that Injun kid a thing or two. Besides, ol’ Adam wasn’t really that good ‘a friend. Had been pretty much a loud-mouthed drunk, and Bob had been able to pick up a couple horses and some weapons out of the deal. Could have been worse.

His reverie was broken by the horses stopping. When he looked around, he blinked rapidly an looked again. There were three mounted Indians complete with warpaint and lances held ready across the trail in front of him. When he moved to bring his rifle to bear, his right forearm was struck savagely from behind causing his entire arm to go numb and the rifle to fall to the ground. He whirled to find two more Indians, also in warpaint behind him. His heart sank. This was serious. But now, the cunning of a lifetime took over. Raising his left hand in a gesture of peace, he smiled and pointed to the goods laden packs on the horses. The Indians in front of him smiled and nodded in return.

Lame Bear began a short speech explaining that the white man was and unwanted visitor in their land, and that he had been warned that he must leave. Since he had refused and tried to kill one of their brothers, he must die. Lame Bear warmed to the oratory, enjoying himself immensely at this opportunity to recount the evils of the whites. He was cut short by the sharp war cry of Left Hand who lunged his horse forward and cut a wicked slice into the man’s chest with his lance point. After all, the gods being offered by this babbling idiot of a white man were as good as theirs anyway. Left Hand’s action was followed by similar attacks by the other five Utes, each inflicting a telling but not fatal wound as they counted coup. Bob whirled and lunged as he tried to protect himself and break out of the deadly circle. It was a futile attempt. By the time the second attack was over, blood from his head had half blinded him and his strength was fading rapidly.

Finally, a sharp blow from a war club drove him from the saddle and sent him sprawling face down in the dust. He lay there babbling mindless pleas to stop. The Ute braves sat their horses watching contemptuously as this white worm begged and pleaded. Their silence was more menacing than any of their attacks. With a single shout Lame Bear lunged forward and drove his lance completely through the body of the white man. Each of the others followed with the same action. After the third lance, Bob never felt the other three.

They left his body pinned to the ground with a single lance complete with Ute markings. If the coyotes did not destroy everything, it would serve as a warning to other white traders who did not come in peace. As they rode, leading the horses of the white man, there was a great deal of good natured banter regarding the skill, courage, appearance, horsemanship and any other characteristics of the individuals that took place. No one took offence, because these were among the best horsemen and warriors in a tribe that took particular pride in both characteristics.

It was a week since Jake had arrived in the valley, and he was busy dragging logs and brush across the mouth of the valley to prevent the horses from running free. In some cases, he tied the logs together with rawhide strips to prevent them from being pushed aside by the horses. It was not a difficult task because the opening was narrow, but his strength had been sapped by the wound to the point where three or four hours of work each day was enough to tire him out completely. He looked up from his work to gaze across the valley outside the opening as he had done so often before. It was a habit that would stay with him all his life, and not only warn him but save his life.

There was movement in the willows along the river. He picked up his Hawken and took cover behind the rocks near his new fence. As he watched, the movement turned to shapes of horsemen and pack animals. The shapes grew larger, and he began to recognize features. It was the Utes returning from their chase of the white man. He smiled to himself as he decided it was time to get

revenge for the insulting comments when they had caught him watching for the white man at the cabin. He moved deeper into the cover of the rocks.

With Left Hand in the lead the small band rode through the rock entrance in a relaxed way until they reached Jake’s “fence”. Here they stopped in confusion and began talking rapidly. Jake remained behind the rocks with rifle ready, poked his head over the edge and said:

“Haugh, brothers. Has the killing of a single, stupid white man made you so tired that you do not notice when you are in danger?” The six mounted riders exploded in a frenzy of activities. Horses whirled and lunged, weapons were brought to bear and the group scattered. Jake had been prudent in keeping his cover, otherwise he could have been hit with an arrow or ball in the confusion. It was only when he began to laugh and chide them that they turned sheepish faces toward the spot of concealment for Jake.

“What greeting is this when we come to visit our brother?” demanded Lame Bull.

“I was merely returning the courtesy of your first visit 9 suns ago. Had I been some of your Arapahoe friends, your scalps would decorate someone’s lance,” replied Jake. Slowly, with much muttering and scowling the six braves began to see the humor of their carelessness brought on by the overconfidence born of the white man’s less than honored death. They dismounted and crowded around Jake, each with his own version of their pursuit and killing of the man. There must be a feast to celebrate the event at Jake’s camp tonight. They had brought hump meat and tongue taken from a lone buffalo killed on the plains down river. There would be “shinin’ times” tonight.

After Jake made an opening in his fence, and the group moved through it, he

closed the opening and they began the ride back to the camp, but not before he went through the agonies of mounting. While his wound was healing nicely, the hip and leg muscles were still tight and painful. The Utes watched imively as he struggled to mount. The insult to Jake in helping without being asked was not to be risked.

The camp was deserted when they reached it. Anne was nowhere to be seen. Jake remained mounted and said:

“Make your camp here, my brothers. I will find the white woman.” He rode into the trees up-canyon and called: “Anne! Anne! Do not be afraid. It is my brothers who have returned from their journey. They will not hurt you.” No answer came, and he continued to call as he moved up the canyon. Finally, he saw a flash of color in the trees, and moved quickly to the spot. He was confronted by the girl holding a rifle on him. “Jake! It is really you. I-I saw the Indians. I thought they would kill me.”

“Come. They are my friends. The ones who helped us when we fought the white men.” He did not mention the fresh scalp that hung from Left Hand’s lance. He was not sure that a shift in loyalty to that extent had occurred. She mounted the horse behind Jake and they rode back to camp.

The Utes were busy laying out robes, caring for the horses and digging a pit in which to bury the buffalo tongue. A fire would be built over the spot, and the tongue would be slow cooked. In the meantime, chunks of hump meat would be roasted over the open fire and eaten as fast as it cooked. When Jake and Anne arrived, the Utes stood back, and waited expectantly for the girl to finish the cooking, and ignored the shocked look she gave when she saw the horses of the white man. When she did not move toward the cooking task they began muttering among themselves, and Jake moved to the partially completed pit and said:

“Come, brothers. We must do this thing. The girl knows nothing of our ways.”

“But it is woman’s work. Why do you keep someone so stupid. We have many fine women in our village as you know. You should take one for a wife.”

“Yes, I know that is true, my brothers. I will take her back to her people when it is safe. Then we will discuss a suitable wife.” He turned to Anne and said,

“Go to our fire and prepare a stew as I have shown you. Use the vegetables and herbs as I have cone, and take some of the meat. We will share with our friends.”

“They are talking about me aren’t they?”

“It does not matter. Make the stew,” he replied. Without further comment she moved to the fire by the tipi.

While the hump meat was roasting on sticks extended over the fire, Jake engaged in the good natured banter of friends who had been separated for an extended time before the more recent events.

“You have selected a spot to camp well,” commented Young Wolf.

“Yes, I will stay in this place now,” replied Jake. Surprised, Elk Runner

demanded,

“Why do you wish to hide in a place with walls around it? It is better for us to go throughout these mountains and valleys. You are our brother. Come with us.”

“It is better that I stay here. I will grow many horses in this place and learn to sell them like the white man. I will also grow the cows of the white man,” Jake said.

“But why do you wish to be like the white men? They know nothing of this country. Only a few are able to live like us,” complained Runs Fast crossly.

“That is true, they are stupid. But there are many, and they will come here. They will eat the grass and devour the land. My father has said so. I must be ready to live in my own place and outwit those dull people so that my sons may continue to live in these mountains.”

“Hah,” snorted a disbelieving Otter, “this is our land. They cannot just come here. We will live here always as Gray Hawk has said.”

“No, my brother, it saddens me to say this, but they are too many. They will come like a flood of grasshoppers, eating and destroying everything.”

“Then we will kill them as we have done to this white man,” barked Left Hand.

“Yes, you will kill some, but there are as many more as there are rocks in these hills. My father has said so. For each one you kill, ten more will come, and they will bring soldiers just as they now do on the big wagon trail to the north.”

“Bah,” grumbled LameBull, “I grow tired of this chatter about white men. This is our land and we well take care of them when they come. Just as we always have. Now, let us eat. I am hungry.”

“My brothers, my choice is to stay in this valley. I will grow horses to ride and cows for the white men to eat. You will be welcome here as long as the sun shines and there will be food to eat. Now, I agree, let us eat.” And with that a promise was made that would be honored many times.

The night was indeed, a “shinin’ time”. When they had eaten enough of the roasted hump meat and stew, the of the death of the white man was repeated over and over as each Ute Warrior gave his version, all to the accompaniment of the shouts of encouragement disbelief and general amusement of the rest. It was all marked with less seriousness than such events usually included. The chase, ambush and kill had been ridiculously easy.

After hours of fable telling, it was time to eat again. Anne had been horrified by the casual treatment given to the killing of the white man. She had retreated to the tipi, and the thought of more food set her stomach to a stage of revolt. Her absence did nothing to deter the others. They eagerly unearthed the steaming tongue from under the coals of the fire and cut it into pieces. As Jake bit into the slightly rubbery, sweet tasting meat, he thought about how much he had missed this taste despite the burned tongue and mouth he suffered from the hot juices that ran down over his chin. They ate until no one could eat more and Jake felt slightly dizzy. They staggered to their robes, and were immediately asleep. The only sign of life was the occasionally glowing ember in the dying fire.

Chapter 7

On the fourth day after the celebration, Left Hand came to Jake with the announcement:

“White Bear, we will go now to re our people. We must begin the summer hunt.”

“I will pray to the spirits that they will lead you to many buffalo, and that you may have many Lame Dances in the coming days.” Actually, he felt a bit relieved. In the days they had spent in camp, he had busied himself with preparations for building a cabin. He had selected the site and begun looking for trees of the right size. The Utes had watched curiously for a while and then wandered off to examine the valley. He had seen them from time to time in all parts of the surrounding mountains. On the third day, they had killed a buck to provide meat, and, later they brought nut and wild vegetables. That was as far as they went in doing woman’s work. Jake’s work was considered unmanly, too. To build a wooden hut was something their distant cousins, the Utes, to the west by the great lake of salt water, would do. These bug eaters were tolerated but not highly regarded.

Now the days went on at a busier pace. Jake’s first act was to return to the white man’s cabin and bring the cattle to the valley. It was hard, frustrating work. His inexperience coupled with their natural resistance made it necessary to repeatedly bunch the small herd and try to herd them in the direction. His first efforts consisted more of wild chases in all directions as the cattle repeatedly tried to scatter back to familiar haunts than any organized cattle drive.

He was helped in his efforts by two things. Anne had absolutely refused to stay alone in the valley. Jake was pleasantly surprised to find that she did know something about cattle. Farmer’s daughters were not only expected to know such things, but to help care for and milk these strange beasts.

“Take it easy Jake. Let that old cow set the pace in the lead. You can’t make them run like horses. Stay back a little. Guide them from the back and sides,” and on and on she went patiently trying to teach him.

“I should kill them and let the coyotes eat their miserable bones,” snapped Jake.

“You can’t. Then your whole plan will fall apart,” she replied calmly.

“How can anything so stupid have values. It would be easier to tame the buffalo,” he growled.

“You said it yourself. One day the buffalo will be gone. You have seen how the settlers and hunters kill them. Now just be patient and we will get there.”

“Hah,” Jake settled into a gloomy silence.

The second thing that added weight to the words of the girl came from the fact that three of the cows were heavy with calf. The other two appeared to be in a similar condition. Apparently, the lone bull had been effective! The condition of the cows made them slower moving and easier to handle but it also meant it would take more time to drive them back. Jake fumed at the delay in his plans.

In all it took them five days to get to the valley. Jake heaved a sigh of relief when he replaced the last log across the barrier at the entrance, and they headed for camp. But they were welcomed by a disappointing sight when they arrived. Coyotes had been busy while they were gone. Bits and pieces of discarded food and bones, camp gear and exposed clothing were scattered all over. It was obvious that the coyotes were more curious than hungry at this time of year, since everything showed signs of teeth marks but not total destruction. The tipi had survived. Maybe its strong smoke smell acquired from many fires inside had been enough to discourage the coyotes.

Jake was thoroughly depressed. His plans seemed to be frustrated by more problems than he alone could handle. In his youth and inexperience, he began to feel that everything was against him. He would go back to the tribe where he belonged.

Anne, on the other hand, remained bright and cheerful.

“Don’t worry, Jake, I can fix these things up in no time. My mother showed me how to sew and all kinds of things. You’ll see. All we need to do is get busy. I’ll help you, and we’ll build that cabin you want. We just can’t give up now.” And as Jake thought about it, he ruefully had to it that he was being childish in his desire to quit and run away and hide. He realized then that the girl had more “grit” as his father used to say, than he thought. He was ashamed, and knew that his father would have chided him. He vowed that he would never again lose his resolve. He would find that the promise he made himself would be tested many times in the future, but he would never forget it.

In the morning, they both set to work with a renewed will. Jake began cutting the logs previously identified with his father’s axe. It did not take long for him to find out just how hard the work was. Each tree was cut and then limbed

requiring turning of the log. He then trimmed the log to about the right length. He had helped his father build a small log structure to serve as a storage building some five years earlier, but as with most children he had not paid attention to all the details of building. He wished now that he had made an effort to learn more.

By nightfall he had cut and trimmed ten logs. It would require three times that many just for the walls. He returned to camp thinking that it would be necessary to rig some sort of harness for the mules from the leather straps that had been his father’s. Skidding the logs to the cabin site would not be easy. Anne had cleaned up the mess made by the coyotes, and made a fair imitation of the stew Jake made, but they would need more meat soon. Jake was grateful. He was tired and ached in every muscle.

The next day was a new experience. The mules had had little experience with pulling loads, and flatly refused to cooperate until Jake got Anne to lead them while he tried to guide the logs. By the end of the day, they had evolved a system that worked fairly well. With Anne leading the mules and Jake pushing and tugging to steer the log to avoid hitting the mules in downhill areas they had managed to move half of the logs to the cabin site. It was not the kind of work a young man raised in an Indian environment was used to.

The pattern was set, and the days went forward, broken only by a one day hunt. Jake was able to shoot both a buck and a yearling antelope that would become a steady diet for the coming days. By early April, they were ready to start on the walls, and Jake began notching the logs. It was a task to test the patience of a wolf. But he was to have help in a most unexpected way. He was chipping away at one of the notches when Anne rushed up breathlessly.

“Jake, someone is coming. A man riding with pack horses.” Jake grabbed his rifle and a pistol and the two moved to shelter behind the logs. As the band of horses moved closer, he saw there were really two riders, one smaller almost like a child. The rider in the lead kept a steady pace up the valley until he spotted the

camp and the pile of logs. Finally, he shouted:

“Allo the camp. Ennybody here?”

“Get off your horses. Real easy, and walk over where we can see you.” The traveler spotted the rifle sticking from the pile of logs that held the source of the voice and said,

“Sure an’ its a poor welcome yer givin’ to weary travelers comin’ to visit yuh. Me name is Sean Callahan an’ I’ve been trappin an’ huntin’ in these hills for near on tuh 20 years.”

“Get down and come over. No surprises,” said Jake. And as they moved toward the logs, Jake saw that it was a white trapper, dressed much as his father had and a squaw. The man was stocky with short, very bowed legs that seemed out of proportion with his large muscular torso. As he drew near he lifted his battered black hat and Jake nearly dropped his rifle, in surprise. He had bright red hair and skin burned red by the sun. The effect was startling. The squaw appeared to be Ute with fine, dark features and long black hair braided down her back. Her body was not thickened by age and work, and in all she was an attractive woman. She looked boldly around as she approached. Jake stepped from the logs with rifle ready and demanded,

“What do you want here?”

“Well now, lad, I bin huntin’ this country for more years than ye’ve lived. When I saw ye’re fence at the mouth of the valley, I was curious to know what was going on. What are ye doin’ here?”

“I will make my home in this valley,” responded Jake

“Yuh, don’t say. And why would ye be doin’ that lad. Besides ye’re an Injun now ain’t ye. Might make it a bit hard,” commented the man.

“My mother was of Our People, but my father was white and a trapper like you. Besides this land belongs to my brothers, the Utes. I will build my lodge here and grow many horses to trade.”

“Ah, and is that what ye’re doin’? It looks like a wood peeker has been busy on these logs. But ye’re father now. What was his name?” he asked.

“Jake. Jake Anderson.”

“Hm. I don’t recall such a name. Did he live nearby?” Callahan asked.

“He was called Old Jake.”

“Old Jake ye say. Wait. Yes, Old Jake. The loner. I an Old Jake that came to our camp to trade in ‘40. Spent about a week. Strange fellow. He didn’t have any partners, and liked to be alone. So he finally took him a squaw and had a son. I heard a lot of stories about him and how he was much like that Old Bill Williams, only not crazy.”

“My father was not crazy.”

“Ah, no lad. I’m sure not, but what happened to him?”

“He died while hunting. My mother was killed by whites. Now you must tell me why you have come,” countered Jake.

“Well, now, lad, I’m on me way north to trade these few furs. I was hopin’ to get some buffalo hides. Then I saw ye’re fence and decided to see what ye was up to,” responded Callahan.

“If you come in peace, you are welcome to camp here tonight. The woman with you is Ute and this is the land of her people, but the buffalo are their’s. Do not kill what is not yours,” said Jake.

“Well now, there is a sight ‘o people who would dispute that but we’ll be talkin’ about that later. Fer now, we’ll accept ye’re kind offer to camp,” and with that the two strangers began unloading their pack animals and setting up camp.

Anne had stayed hidden behind the logs until now. When she stepped out to Jake, Sean’s jaw dropped along with the pack he was carrying and he broke forth with,

“Sure an’ me eyes are leavin’ me. Where did ye come from, girl?” And the explanations started again. When she had finished, Sean said quietly to no one in particular,

“Aye, it seems ye’ve both had ye’re troubles with white men. No wonder ye were so careful when we come up. Well, there’s good and bad of both kinds, and it seems ye’re learnin to live with them.” Sean had brought two haunches of venison and the Ute woman began preparing the evening meal. Anne, too, went to the campfire and began heating the stew. They had had no flour or beans for a long time, so she could make no squaw bread. Sean had none either, but the Ute woman had gathered nuts and berries that she had ground and pressed into a paste that was offered to Jake and Anne. It opened the door to talks that lasted into the night.

“Tell me friend Jake, is the girl ye’re wife?”

“No. I will take her back to the whites when the wagons go on the trail to the north when it is summer.”

“Well,that might present a problem. Ye see ye’re an Injun in the sight of some white men, and they might shoot ye before ye kin explain. Besides, does she want to go?”

“No, but she is not strong like the women of Our People, and she cannot live in this country. She must go back.”

“Ye’d best think on it first lad.”

In the morning, Sean was sitting on the pile of logs smoking a battered pipe when Jake had finished eating and moved to resume work.

“From the looks of things, ye could use some help. Since it early for traders yet, I’ll be givin’ ye a hand—as a neighbor, ye understand now.” Whatever arguments Jake had disappeared as the work progressed. It was obvious that Sean had done this before, and knew what to do. His skill with an axe amazed Jake, but secretly he was delighted. He studied every task closely and tried to copy it whenever possible.

The work moved forward quickly with Sean explaining how to smooth the sides of the logs to permit a tighter fit, notching in the most efficient ways, sliding the logs on top of each other with the help of the mules and cutting a door and windows. His stay stretched into a week by which time the walls were in place. The second week they cut poles for the roof structure, and began a process of splitting slabs for covering the roof. It was a hard process, and Jake learned very slowly, but it was finally finished. By the end of the week, the wall structure and a tight roof were in place. It was at that point that Sean approached Jake.

“Jake, I’ve enjoyed me stay, but I must be gettin’ on. I’ve told ye how to do the rest, an’ I think ye can. now, put sand from the river on the floor, and then lay logs with a flattened side up in the sand. It will make it cleaner and drier on the floor.”

“Yes, I will do this thing. But what of Anne? I must take her back, but if I do I will be gone for weeks and my horses will be alone.”

“Do not be hasty lad. She has been learning things from my woman, and she has told me she does not want to go. Let me find out what would happen and I’ll tell ye when Ah come back.” Jake was relieved and secretly pleased. He was not sure he wanted to be totally alone. He agreed and noticed that Anne walked with a lighter step.

Chapter 8

The day was bright and clear and Jake was positioned behind a rock outcropping in the valley of the Bear River below the fork that led to his cabin. He had been watching a small herd of buffalo move slowly toward the spot where he crouched. He had been watching for over an hour as the animals grazed and worked their way upstream. They showed no concern or indication that his presence had been detected. A pair of wolves waited patiently a short distance from the herd for an unwary cow or calf to stray from the main herd, and a flock of magpies hovered nearby. Jake decided that in about thirty minutes the herd would be close enough to provide a good shot. The sun was nearing mid-day, and he would have enough time to take care of the meat before dark. He carefully checked both of the rifles again and settled down to wait.

Suddenly, he noticed that the wolves were showing signs of uneasiness. They began walking in circles, stopping to look downstream from time to time. When he looked in the same direction, he saw nothing, and he glanced away and back again to try to detect movement. Nothing. But the wolves grew more agitated. Soon they began moving upstream toward the cover of the trees behind Jake, and coincidentally toward the hunter. Their antics had finally been noticed by the buffalo who stopped grazing and bunched together with the lead bulls now peering in all directions. Jake scowled in frustration and said softly to the wolves as they ed within a dozen feet:

“Go brothers, you have caused enough trouble for this day.” They ignored him and kept moving, all the while looking back downstream.

The buffalo now became nervous, and one of the bulls put his nose into the wind blowing upstream and began to paw the ground. Suddenly he gave a series of

grunts and began trotting toward the river away from Jake. The rest followed, and in a short time they were across the river and heading into the low hills fronting the mountains to the west. He would have no luck hunting this day with this herd.

Jake stood up and stepped from behind the rocks. He could still see nothing that would have spooked the herd. He climbed up on the rocks and peered intently downstream, and then he saw it. A small cloud of dust coming from behind the stand of trees at the bend in the river a mile away had appeared. He dropped quickly from his perch after checking to make sure the mules were still hidden in the trees. He resumed his position of concealment behind the rocks. The minutes dragged by and he finally saw movement at the edge of the timber. Horsemen, moving slowly, emerged from the trees, and they appeared to be having trouble with their horses. There were four riders and six led horses. No, wait. There were five riders and five led horses. One of the riders was slumped over the horse’s back. Jake settled deeper into cover.

The small party continued up the valley close to the river. The horses’ heads hung low, and they stumbled frequently. They had been ridden hard. When they drew even with Jake’s position, he recognized the riders. It was Left Hand and his companions, much the worse for wear. Jake stepped from cover and waving his rifle in the air shouted,

“Haugh, Left Hand. It is I, White Bear. Where do you go?” The riders halted wearily and then moved toward Jake.

“We flee from many enemies, White Bear—Jake. The Crow war party trapped us while we hunted the buffalo to the north. Otter is badly hurt and Lame Bear is dead. Even now they are behind us:’ replied Left Hand.

“How many of the Crow seek to kill you? How far back are they?” asked Jake.

“Maybe twenty. From the dust they are two, maybe three hours. We have ridden hard, and their horses must be as tired as ours. We must find food and shelter and horses. We ask your help, White Bear,’ replied Left Hand. The others merely sagged wearily on their horses and waited for the answer from Jake.

“We will go to the valley. We can fight from there and Otter will have a place to rest,” announced Jake as he ran to the tethered mules. Mounted, he set off upstream at a brisk pace that taxed the tired Indian ponies. He rode to the point where the creek from his valley came into the east fork of the Bear River. Jake crossed the creek and continued upstream for another two miles. At that point, he instructed the others to follow him. He entered the river and turned back downstream. It was hard going for tired horse, but they kept at it until they reached the smaller stream coming from Jake’s valley. Here they turned, still following the rocky creek bed, until they finally ed through the makeshift fence across the narrow opening to Jake’s land. They had traveled an extra four miles that might allow the Crows to catch up, but Jake was counting on his ruse of covering his tracks to gain more time.

The little party dismounted and Jake explained the plan he had been formulating during the past hour’s ride.

“Left Hand, you and the others must stay here. Two on each side of the creek in the rocks. If anyone comes, you must stop him. Use the bow if it is one or two who have come to scout, then we will not alert the others. One of you must watch and the other three will sleep. Gain strength. I will go to camp with Otter and tend his wound. Then I will return with food and more robes.”

“It shall be so. It is good,” said Left Hand, and he set off to pick the spots for the

others, and find a place for the horses where grass was available.

The ride to the new cabin was short, but with the release of tension on entering the valley, Otter began to lose his grip on his horse. It finally became necessary for Jake to ride alongside, and hold him up. When they rounded the trees, Anne was standing at the door of the cabin peering anxiously toward the oncoming riders. She had expected Jake to return with the packhorses laden with meat from the hunt. Instead she had heard the rapid beat of hooves, and then saw the two mounted figures. When Jake stopped in front of the cabin, she moved tentatively to help him lift Otter from his horse. She was not sure what had happened, but Jake’s attitude made it clear that action was necessary. He said:

“We will need water heated and food for the others. We will care for this friend first, then I must go help Left Hand at the entrance. Hurry!”

“What happened? Why are your friends here?”

“Crows. They have attacked these Utes. Lame Bear is dead, and Otter will need cloth to cover his wounds and a place to rest.” But as Jake moved to carry him inside, Otter objected:

“No, brother. If I must die let it be where I can see the sky and the mountains. Do not put me in the house of trees.” And Jake understood. They laid him on a bed of moss and placed robes beneath the trees by the fire. While Anne went to start heating food and gathering supplies that Jake would need, he washed the wound and made a poultice from his store of herbs and homemade salves. As he did so, he thought about how he would have to replenish these things soon, and he thought longingly about the Indian wife he would have one day to help him. When the poultice was finished and firmly held in place with cloths Anne had found, he filled a bowl with steaming stew and started toward Otter. Anne

grabbed his arm saying.

“No, Jake. I will care for Otter. You must go to the others in case there is attack.” How could someone as young as this girl understand the need for help at the entrance to the valley he wondered to himself. He had half expected her to plead with him to stay and not leave her alone. “Ah well,” he thought to himself, “It is too much of a mystery for me.” He did notice as he mounted to return with the pack mule that she had seated herself by the wounded Otter, and was carefully spooning stew into his mouth.

When Jake approached the mouth of the valley, he held the horse and the pack mule in the creek to avoid causing dust that might be seen by the searching Crows. He was greeted by Left Hand, Runs Fast, Elk Runner and Young Wolf with great enthusiasm when the food was brought out. They immediately began stuffing their mouths and chewing vigorously.

“ Have the Crows come yet?” asked Jake. Left Hand shook his head and signed that no one had approached, but continued eating.

“Have you seen anyone in the valley below?” Jake continues. Left Hand nodded and signed that a large party had followed the trail up the river past the vantage point of Jake’s valley. With that information, Jake gave up trying to get more information. He would not have to wait long. The hungry Utes wiped the pot clean in a matter of minutes. Their three days on the trail without anything to eat other than a meager bit of trail food in bags was more than could be expected.

“Left Hand, we must prepare to fight these Crows. There are too many tracks to this valley from other days for them to miss. Soon they will turn back and find them.”

“We cannot fight them all, White Bear. There are too many,” replied Left Hand now that the food was gone.

“It is true,” added Young Wolf. “We fought these Crows very hard, but still we had to run. We must go to our people where we have more warriors.”

‘‘I will not leave my home, nor will I leave Otter to these people. I will fight here. We must get help. Bring them here,” said Jake stubbornly.”

“There is wisdom in that. We can send a warrior over the mountains by the hidden trail. He could return by the second sun,” offered Left Hand. Left Hand and the others smiled and waited for a few moments to reply. Finally Runs Fast said,

‘‘Have you become such a white man that you do not even know your own land. There is a trail used by the deer and elk that is much hidden and steep. It crosses the mountain to the valley where our people camp. We can be there in less than one sun. We found this trail when we were last here.” It was Jake’s turn to be embarrassed. He had been too busy with the tasks of becoming a rancher to follow one of the first rules of living in this land—know the country in which you must live and fight. He recovered quickly at the prospect of hope given by this discovery.

“It is good. One man will go and the rest of us will fight and cause problems to delay these Crows,” said Jake. Left Hand added,

“Runs Fast must go. If it is needed, he can travel faster than any of us. Now let us rest and watch these Crows. Night is coming and no one can travel the trail at night. Runs Fast will go as soon as it is light in the morning.”

“You can take one of my horses,” offered Jake.

“No, I know my horse, and he can travel this trail. He will be rested tonight,” returned Runs Fast.

And so it was settled. Left Hand, Young Wolf and Elk Runner returned to their vantage point at the mouth of the valley. Meanwhile Jake returned to the cabin with Runs Fast. Jake would get more food for the watchers and Runs Fast would prepare for tomorrows ride.

Jake’s supply of food was limited. He had counted on the buffalo hunt to replenish his supply of meat. He took the remaining cuts of venison from the deer he had killed the week before, and set them over a bed of coals to roast. He also gathered up the few berries and nuts that he had stored, and decided it would have to do. While the meat was cooking, he checked the rifles and pistols making sure that all the loads were right. When he had finished, he called Anne and told her,

“I will leave one of the rifles and a pistol with you. Here are bullets and powder. If any of the Crows find this place, you must hide and take a horse to get away. Stay hidden until Runs Fast returns with the Ute warriors. He will make sure you are taken to the whites. I have told him what must be done.”

“Please, Jake, be careful. I don’t want to be left alone. I will do what you say, but

you must come back.” Once again Jake was pleased with the strength shown by Anne. and they talked for a few minutes before he left. She told him that three of the cows had had calves, and a fourth one appeared ready to do so. She was sure some of the horses had foaled, but was not sure how many. She had been unable to get out and check all of them. With the assurance that all would be well, and he would take care of himself, he finally headed back to Left Hand and the others. The sun was setting when he reached the mouth of the valley. Jake and the others gathered to eat and prepare for the night.

“Have you seen the Crow yet?” queried Jake.

“Yes, even now they camp in the valley where the rivers come together. They must be confused by the spot where the tracks disappeared. I’m sure that they will begin to search again in the morning. Then they will find us,” answered Left Hand.

“How many have come?” asked Jake. And Left Hand held up his hand four times indicating 20.

“At least this many, White Bear. We must prepare to die. We will put on our paint in the morning.”

“Maybe you speak the truth Left Hand, but it is also true that maybe we can cause enough trouble to make it hard for them to come after us tomorrow. If we can, Runs Fast should be back the next day. We must use as many delay moves as we can. Where are their horses?”

“They are held between the camp and the river. We cannot attack without

fighting the warriors in the camp.”

“Let us look at this problem while there is still some light,” mused Jake. They climbed to the rocks at the entrance and studied the camp, a mile away, intently. As he looked, a plan took root in Jake’s mind. He motioned Left Hand back to where the others waited, they moved silently. Once there he swiftly outlined the plan.

“There is much brush downstream along the river. Two men can reach the horses from that direction. The horses must be scattered downstream so that they continue to spread out and eat away from the Crows. That way it may take a day for the tribe to catch them again. Maybe then Runs Fast will have returned. The Crow camp is not well made. They are tired but may be confident that we do not pose a threat. We can succeed.”

“But it will be night soon. We cannot fight then,” objected Left Hand.

“Then, I must go alone. It is our only chance,” Jake replied. After a period of uneasy shifting of moccasined feet and hesitation, Elk Runner looked up,

“I will go too, White Bear. If it does not work, we die tomorrow anyway,” he shrugged.

“It is good, brother. We will sleep and rest first, then we will go after the middle of the night when it is darkest. Left Hand, I would ask that if we do not come back that you take the white girl and follow Runs Fast. Guard her carefully and return her to her people,” instructed Jake.

“It will be so, was the somber reply. They ate again and slipped into their robes, each to rest and prepare himself as best he could. Jake slept fitfully, and awoke near midnight. The stars showed with the brilliant white points of light that can only be seen in the mountains. The night was very still with the slight breeze moving downstream as so often happens in the mountain valleys. It was good. An approach from downstream would be hard for the enemy to detect. Jake checked the position of the stars as his father had done and decided it was time to move. Elk Runner slipped up immediately indicating that he too had not slept soundly. As they gathered their weapons and prepared to leave, Left Hand and Young Wolf rose and ed them. Putting his hands on Jake’s shoulders, Left Hand said softly,

“Hunt with our brother the wolf. Return safely, my brothers.” They slipped quietly out of the entrance to the valley leading two mules. Jake was convinced that the mules would be more sure-footed and quieter than horses. They did not use saddles to avoid the squeak of leather and clink of metal. Their only piece of equipment was a rawhide hackamore. They were confident that they could escape bareback if they were successful.

Silently and swiftly they moved to a point nearly a mile downstream of the Crow camp. Here they securely tied the mules and shed their small packs of extra equipment. Moving silently as a night—hunting wolf, they made their way upstream toward the sleeping Crows. It took them nearly an hour to reach a point near the horse herd. Jake checked the stars and noted that it was about two hours after midnight. It was good. It was the time when the need for sleep dragged heaviest on people.

The ground in front of Jake was bare of covering brush, and as he started to step forward, Elk Runner gripped his arm. He froze. And then he heard the sound of softly exhaling breath. That lump of rock ahead was really a squatting horse guard. Jake smiled knowing that the guard was sleeping. Pressing his arm again, Elk Runner disappeared into the darkness. The next thing Jake heard was the soft

thunk of a stone war club ing the base of a skull. If the Crow warrior had lived, he would have a very sore head.

Elk Runner reappeared and they moved into the horse herd. Their smells were not sufficiently different from their Crow masters to alarm the tired herd. Other than some low snuffling and shifting of feet, they ignored the two moving figures. Silently moving among the horses and cutting the lead ropes and hobbles, they completed their work without incident. Quickly fastening hackamores, they mounted two of the horses and now they cast caution away and raised their high, keening war cries while firing their rifles.The herd bolted downstream, and Jake and Elk Runner wheeled in pursuit.

Unfortunately, they had miscalculated the response of the Crow warriors in camp. As Jake raced past a point opposite the camp, a rifle flared in front and slightly to the right of his path blinding him. At the same time, he felt a stinging pain on the side of his head. When he reached up to feel the spot, he found that his right ear lobe was gone, and he marveled that if the ball had ed an inch to the left, his life would have ended. He would live the rest of his life without that ear lobe.

As they raced away, more shots were fired and Elk Runner’s horse went to its knees. The Ute leaped from the falling animal, and Jake whirled to pick him up. In an instant they were again on their way in pursuit of the horses. Within minutes, they reached the spot where the mules were tied who had been caught up in the excitement and fear of the fleeing horses and were attempting to pull free to the flight. Jake and Elk Runner leaped from the double mounted horse and struck the animal sharply with the hackamore to send it after the others. They wasted no time mounting the mules and galloping after the fleeing horses. They well knew that a running Indian could cover the distance they had just come in not many minutes longer than it had taken them.

Within another mile the fleeing horses began to slow and bunch up. Jake and Elk

Runner pushed them again only now they began scattering them and pushing across the river. When they had worked about an hour by Jake’s reckoning, he signaled Elk Runner that it was time to return. They swung eastward away from the river and slowed their flight to avoid noise that might attract pursuing Crows. Moving in the timber on the edge of the mountains along the east side of the valley, they began moving carefully upstream toward Jake’s valley. They had made no effort to take the horses with them. Tracks from such a large herd would provide an arrow pointing directly toward their sanctuary once the Crows recovered and began searching for them. They pressed ahead as quickly as possible. Within thirty minutes the predawn light would turn their small world to gray, and detection by searching eyes would be easier. They entered the opening to Jake’s valley just as the eastern sky began lightening.

“Ah brothers, you have been busy. It is good that my eyes see you again,” came the voice of Young Wolf from behind a bow fully bent with arrow in place. “You have set the bees loose from their home and they fly wildly in all directions. My heart is low that you have had all of the fun.” Jake merely nodded his head tiredly, but Elk Runner excitedly broke into one of the many recitations of their exploits that would be told and embellished over the next few days.

“Ah well,” thought Jake. “It has been a successful attack, and he deserves the attention brought on by his bravery.” After all, he had been important to their success. He dismounted wearily and noticed that the excitement that had carried him to this point was beginning to fade. He could feel the pain in his ear and knew he should go take care of it, but the let down he felt caused waves of fatigue to over him. On the other hand, Elk Runner, flushed with their success was recounting the raid in great detail. His chest swelled when he told of counting coup on the Crow horse guard.

Jake washed some of the blood from his ear, from his neck and buckskin, and then departed for the cabin to complete the treatment. If anything developed before he returned, they would send someone to get him. When he reached the cabin, Anne greeted him with cries of concern and a series of commands when

she saw the traces of blood on his head and shoulder. She had him sit while she cleaned the ear and insisted that some of the poultice used for Otter be put on the ear. Jake suffered the attention in silence. He was not convinced that a wound of the type he had received, that bled well, deserved all the attention being given. The poultice would at least keep the flies away.

Otter, meanwhile, had weakened. The wound, above and to the right of his stomach, was not improving. Anne had done her best, but he had developed a fever and was slowly losing strength. After Anne had fussed over his ear long enough, Jake sat and talked to Otter. He told him of the raid on the Crow horse herd, and the wounded Ute rallied and showed his joy at the good news. Soon after, however, he sank into his nearly trance like state. A little later, Jake set out for the mouth of the valley and the other Utes, but only after he had cautioned Anne to keep a close watch.

Jake was greeted by Left Hand who wore a broad smile.

“We have taken two scalps of the Crow dogs, White Bear,” he announced.

“It is good, but have the Crows found us then? How did this happen?” queried Jake.

“When the day came, the Crows sent part of their warriors after the horses. The rest were sent to search for our tracks. Two of their warriors came into the valley. We killed them with the bow and arrows as you said. Others will come looking for them when they do not return,” replied Left Hand. “Now we wait.”

“Have they returned with the horses yet?”

“Not yet, White Bear. You did well last night.” Wearily, Jake climbed the rocks to look at the camp of the Crows. The bodies of the two scouts, minus their scalps, had been moved from sight by his brothers, and as he looked across the valley, he noted no activity in the camp. Apparently, neither the scouts nor the warriors sent for the horses had returned. It was shortly after mid-day. Jake settled into the rocks to watch the enemy camp. The combination of the warm sun, the action of the night before and the shock of his wound, even though slight, caused him to dose. He awoke with a start. The sun was halfway down the western sky, and there was now action in the Crow camp. The missing horses were back in camp, and two parties of mounted horsemen were fanning out in the area below. The dead scouts must now have been missed.

Jake slipped down the rocks and gathered the small group together.

“We must prepare. The Crows have regained their horses. Even now parties of scouts are coming this way. We will fight now.” The small force was dispersed on both sides of the entrance and placed in an ambush. Their only hope was in decreasing the size of the enemy force in the first rush. Now they waited.

Jake carefully watched as one of the parties of four made its way slowly up the creek toward the valley. They stopped frequently as they checked the tracks along the creek. They stopped halfway to Jake’s valley, and Jake could see the excitement build as they examined the tracks. They were obviously becoming more convinced of the location of their quarry. They continued slowly onward, carefully following the tracks. By now, the sun had just tipped the mountains to the west, and Jake was grateful for the caution. If more delay was encountered, they could expect no attack until the following morning.

The four Crow warriors stopped 200 yards short of the entrance. It was obvious that the Crows were not anxious to enter this narrow opening with their small

force. After some discussion, the Crows wheeled and trotted back to their camp where again a discussion took place. They seemed very confident that they would not lose their quarry because they then settled down for the night. Only this time more guards were positioned around the horse herd. Jake breathed a sigh of relief. They had bought another night during which the main band of Utes could travel to his valley. (He hoped).

They ate a small, cold meal and then settled down for the night. They would alternate the task of lookout throughout the night in case any of the Crows decided not to wait until daylight. Jake did not feel it was very likely that anyone would try, but it would do no harm to be cautious. The little group settled in for a second night of waiting.

Jake’s watch was the last of the night. At daybreak, he could see the Crows fully prepared and ready to mount for the attack. He quickly counted their numbers and came up with a number of 13. With the two that had been killed, there were five missing. He counted again and got the same number. Five warriors were somewhere out there, but he didn’t know where. In true Indian fashion, they must be moving to flank position in some way. It would not be easy because they would have to climb the ridges on foot, but it could be done. He warned Elk Runner of this development who nodded in understanding. He would be watching.

For now, they had other worries. The mounted warriors ahead of them had started up the creek with what appeared to be every intention of riding directly into the mouth of the valley. Jake and the Utes waited until they reached the makeshift fence. When part of the Crows dismounted to pull the logs out of the way, Jake’s group loosed their first volley of arrows. Their effect was immediately felt. With arrows sticking from two of the horses and one warrior, the Crows erupted into a frenzied milling mass. Their surprise, however, did not keep them from returning the fire. Their trade rifles barked and sent balls crashing into the trees around Jake. He and the Utes now fired their rifles into the milling group, but there was not time to determine whether they had any

effect. It was time to move.

While the Crows pulled back from the entrance to regroup and reconsider their attack plans, Jake and the others reloaded and moved upstream to their next place of ambush as they had agreed. Elk Runner slid to a stop and dropped to the ground about halfway to their prearranged spot. Jake did the same. There ahead of them were two Crows leveling their rifles at them. Jake and Elk Runner rolled to the side quickly, and the balls from the shots ed harmlessly to one side. The Crows were not so lucky. Jake’s shot hit one of the squarely in the chest, and he sank to the ground with a bubbling wheeze. Elk Runner’s shot dropped just enough on the other to hit him in the left leg, and he disappeared in the trees, dragging the wounded leg in a desperate attempt to escape.

Jake and Elk Runner scrambled to the cover of the pines and waited to see if any other Crow were in the vicinity.

“Where are the other three Crows? Are they waiting for us to move again? We can’t stay too long. The main band will be coming again soon,” thought Jake. His answer was quick to come. Two rifle shots rang out on the other side of the valley, and he saw Young Wolf rise above the brush and sink back down. Then he heard two more shots followed by silence, and the Crow firing sank to the ground with a bubbling wheeze. Elk Runner’s shot dropped just enough on the other to hit him in the left leg, and he disappeared in the trees, dragging the wounded leg in a desperate attempt to escape.

Jake and Elk Runner scrambled to the cover of the pines and waited to see if any other Crow were in the vicinity.

“Where are the other three Crows? Are they waiting for us to move again? We can’t stay too long. The main band will be coming again soon,” thought Jake.

His answer was quick to come. Two rifle shots rang out on the other side of the Valley, and he saw Young Wolfrise above the brush and sink back down. Then he heard two more shots followed by silence. Young Wolfs strange behavior worried him, but he had no time to worry about it for long. He now knew where the other flankers were. He and Elk Runner rose from their concealment and hurried toward their next spot for the ambush.

Squatting behind the screen of trees they had selected, Jake noticed movement in the trees across the valley. Left Hand and Young Wolf must be getting into position.

“Well,” thought Jake. “It’s beginning to get tight. We got one more spot for an ambush before the valley widens out too much, and then we head for the cabin. That’ll be our last stand, and it’s only going on mid-morning. We got three, maybe five, of them so far, and that leaves 15 to 17 Crows. Going to get real serious if Runs Fast don’t get back again with the others soon. Just have to do the best we can. Wish Paw or Little Bear was here, they’d know what to do.” He looked over at Elk Runner who flashed a quick, nervous smile and went back to watching the valley.

The Crows came up-valley cautiously. They had lost warriors this morning, and now they were unsure about how many of the Utes remained. They fanned out across the valley, and walked their horses forward with weapons held ready. When they were within 25 yards of the ambush, Jake fired his first rifle quickly and grabbed the second rifle and fired again. He was pleased to se there was one rider down and one horse kicking and screaming in pain. He heard Elk Runner fire his rifle, but could hear nothing from the other side of the valley over the gunfire being loosed by the Crows. He grabbed his pistol and fired his last shot, then reached for the bow. By now the Crow were drawing back again, firing as they went.

Jake signaled Elk Runner to follow him and did the same to Left Hand and

Young Wolf. They would head directly for the cabin without stopping. The Crows knew by now just how many rifles they had faced. Their next charge would come with an overwhelming rush. Jake and the Utes would need the shelter of the cabin. They reloaded and set off at a lope. They could see glimpses of Left Hand through the trees as they ran.

Clearing the timber where the valley widened, they started across the open area leading to the cabin. Once in the open they could hear the yipping cries of the Crows as they spotted them. It would now be a race. Halfway to their destination Left Hand ed them, but Young Wolf was nowhere to be seen. It was then that they heard the shot from the cabin. Something was wrong, and Jake stretched his legs even more.

The trio reached the cabin just as the Crow’s main body cleared the trees they had just vacated. Fortunately, the enemy stopped to prepare for the charge on the Utes. As Jake rushed up to the cabin and spot where Otter lay, he saw Anne standing with a frightened, bewildered look on her face holding the rifle he loaded for her the day before. Beside Otter lay a Crow warrior in full war paint. There was no sign of life in either form.

“He—he came out of the trees. H-he had a hatchet and tried to hit Otter. I shot him,” she stammered. “Is he dead?” and the tears began to stream down her cheeks.

“He is dead.” confirmed Jake. “Now load his rifle. The Crows are coming.” He now knew where the fifth flanker was. She moved to follow his direction as if in a daze.

“I never killed no-one before. I don’t feel good,” she murmured, and Jake ed the first time he had killed a man. But then, he had no time to think

about that now.

“Hurry woman, they come now!” he commanded. “Stay behind the cabin. If we do not stop them, run, hide in the mountains until they are gone. Runs Fast will come soon.” And with that, he ran back to the place where Elk Runner and Left Hand waited behind the logs piled near the cabin.

The Crow were now drawn up in a line 400 yards from the cabin, and two of the warriors were riding up and down extolling the bravery and strength of the Crows. When they were done, the charge would come. Jake had no false hopes about the outcome. Fifteen mounted warriors against three men were impossible odds. They would do what they could, but the end would be the same. He was sorry he would not be able to fulfill his dream. The cows of the white man and his horses were all safely in the valley above the cabin, but it would not take long for the Crows to find them.

“Ah well, I will follow my father’s way and fight these dogs,” he said to himself, and checked his weapons for the last time.

The two warriors completed their exhortation, and to the accompaniment of high pitched wolf-like yipping, the whole line surged forward. It was a magnificent sight but a frightening one. Jake could think of nothing more impressive than the sight of mounted Indians fully equipped and painted for war in full attack. Other observers before had dubbed them the finest light cavalry troops in the world. Jake only knew that his more direct experience had told him they were good and the odds were not. They closed the first two hundred yards in as many heartbeats, and Jake and the others began aiming at the most likely targets while asking Manitoo to give them strength.

Suddenly, the charge faltered and came to a halt. The Crows began a loud

discussion with many gestures toward the head of the valley behind Jake. Looking back, Jake’s heart began to beat again. A long line of mounted Utes was emerging from the trees with a grinning, waving Runs Fast in the lead. Jake shouted and waved back, and the Crows began reforming. They were not fully aware of the size of the Ute party.

Runs Fast galloped to Jake and the two Utes, and leaped from his horse. He leaped and danced and pummeled Jake on the back all the while laughing uproariously. The other Utes led by an older, fatter, but still impressive Strong Bull drew up in a group near the cabin. There must have been 50 warriors in the group. It was so relieving to Jake to see this much help that he suddenly felt so tired that he sat down and leaned back against the logs. He felt that he must sleep, and he closed his eyes, but the attention of his friends kept him awake.

Chapter 9

Once Runs Fast’s excitement had subsided and Strong Bull began:

“Hough, Jake, I your father. He was a strong man as you are. These Crows have come among us in our land. We must teach them proper manners, and they must learn to avoid hurting our people.” It was as close as he would come to showing his acceptance of Jake, and Jake understood.

“Welcome, Strong Bull. My father honored your memory, but I fear the Crow may run away now that you are here,” responded Jake.

“Do not worry. Even now more of our warriors are at the entrance of this valley. We will deal with the Crow in due time. Runs Fast has done well to tell us about this place. We must show these Crows that they cannot come into our land without suffering,” added Strong Bull.

“It is good. I welcome you to this place,” said Jake.

“Otter is well?” asked Strong Bull.

“I fear he is not,” replied Jake. “We have been fighting the Crow, and could not look. If you have brought healers from the tribe, their time is now.” When they moved to Otters side he was no longer conscious. Two older men in the war

party began examining his wound and a third restarted the fire and began laying out the necessary medicine. Anne had appeared during these preparations and said softly,

“I tried, Jake, but he didn’t seem to respond. Then that Indian came and it looked like he was going to hurt him. I had to shoot, Jake.”

“You have done well. There is nothing more you can do. The older men will care for him. Manito will decide,” Jake said quietly.

“Manito? Who is Manito? Is he the Chief?” asked Anne quickly.

“Manito is the Great Spirit, the god of Our People. He is called Sineuwa by the Utes.” While they were speaking, the Utes prepared for battle. They had ridden into the Valley with full war paint, and now they readied their weapons. Two of the warriors rode out toward the Crows, and when they had reached a point close enough to make themselves heard, but still retreat if rushed, they shouted,

“Why have you come into our land and killed our people?” And the Crows replied,

“We are mighty warriors, and our people are many. We have come to drive the weak Utes away from here. Prepare for your death, yapping dog.” That show of bravado sealed it. The Utes answer to that was short.

“Prepare to die yourself, rabbit. We will show you who is weak.” And with that

the two warriors rode across the valley in front of the Crow position brandishing their weapons and shrieking war cries in a show of defiance. The remaining Utes ed the war chants and the whole mass moved forward with excited horses jumping to full charge. The Crows sent a volley of rifle fire into the charging line, and here and there a wounded Ute or horse fell out of the line, but it was a futile gesture. The matter would be settled hand to hand in a show of personal bravery and skill.

Left Hand had mounted one of the extra horses with the tribe, and now rode at the front of the charging Utes with Strong Bull. Both of these warriors had left their rifles behind and carried only their axes and lances as a show of their medicine and a chance to count coup. Jake watched as they slammed into the Crows and emerged on the other side, each having knocked their opponent from the saddle. Here and there mounted Utes fought singly with other Crows, but by the time Left Hand and Strong Bull wheeled to return to their fallen foes, the remaining half of the Crows were trying to flee. Now they understood their plight. The second force of Utes sat their horses across the narrow part of the Valley. At the sight of them the Crows broke their flight in all directions desperately attempting to reach the trees and ridges on the sides of the valley. It was too late. The Utes from both sides were on them like a huge bear on a deer.

The end came quickly, with Ute warriors on all sides raising scalps singing war songs. It was now just past the mid-day. The Crows died well, but still died. One lone Crow warrior remained mounted but surrounded by four Utes. Each had counted coup, wounding him, but not seriously. They began moving in for the end, but were stopped by a shout from Strong Bull who rode to the place where they were.

“My brothers, we will not kill this one. You have counted coup and shown your bravery. But this one must go back to his people and tell them that this land belongs to the Utes and they are not to come here or harm the people of this place, or it will be done to them as we have done this day. Go dog and carry this bone to your old men.” Unable to comprehend fully what was happening to him,

the Crow warrior sat unmoving as he bled from the many small wounds inflicted by the counting of coup. One of the Utes pricked the rump of his horse with his spear, and the animal moved into a shambling run that fortunately took the direction of the opening of the valley.

Strong Bull turned his horse as if to return to the cabin, but Left Hand stopped him saying:

‘‘There are other Crow warriors in the trees that came after us on foot, and Young Wolf must be found. He was shot by the ones on foot.”

“The Crows on foot are of no matter. We can fight them on another day if they are not killed. We have won a great victory, and we will celebrate, but first we must have meat for a feast and dancing. And—you are right, we must find Young Wolf,” replied Strong Bull. Turning to the warriors who had so recently been ready to kill the Crow warriors, he said “Go to the big valley and find a fat, young buffalo. Bring the choicest cuts. We will feast tonight. I will go with Left Hand to find Young Wolf.” He wheeled his horse abruptly and followed Left Hand back toward the trees at the entrance to the valley.

It was a short ride, and the two Utes found Young Wolf seated against a tree with blood congealed on the upper portion of one leg stretched in front of him. At the sight of the two, a huge smile broke out on his face, and he laid his rifle to one side.

“Does it go well my brothers?” he asked.

“It goes very well brother,” replied Strong Bull. “We have a great victory over

the Crows. We will go now to feast and dance. Can you ride?”

“My leg is broken, Strong Bull. It will be difficult.”

“We will send a travois. Left Hand can stay here with you. You have done well Young Wolf. The people will know of your strong heart.” He turned and rode back toward the cabin while Left Hand dismounted and went to Young Wolf’s side. The old men would be there soon with the travois.

The Ute war party was now streaming back to the cabin bringing their wounded with them. Of roughly fifty warriors that made up the entire partly only a hand full had suffered wounds. None of them were fatal. Jake and Anne busied themselves with preparing dressings and making the wounded as comfortable as possible. None of them would agree to being put in the cabin. Jake and Anne’s efforts did not go unnoticed. Strong Bull in the role of leader, approached and said,

“You have done well, White Bear known as Jake. My people are grateful and for the help you have given. They will not forget. They will also that you fight well. Like your father. I will go now to the hills to pray to Sineuwa for the warriors that have been hurt and to ask for wisdom about this victory. I will return when I have done this thing.” Jake nodded his understanding while Strong Bull studied him for a long moment in silence before turning to get his horse.

Two of the older men who had been caring for the wounded approached Jake where he sat numbed by fatigue.

“Jake, we have sent two warriors to bring the medicine men and our women.

They will take care of our wounded. They will also teach your white woman what she must know to live in this land. Why you have chosen someone so ignorant is not our concern, but you have helped our people and we will help you in return. Now we need a place for the medicine men to smoke and work their medicine on the wounded. Otter has much need for them.” The flush that Jake felt at their words about the white girl could not be seen under his deep tan, and he did not bother to try to correct them. He did not argue about her honor for having shot the Crow that came after Otter. Rather he said:

“We can use the tipi that was my home in the past. It must be set up. I will show you.” He took them to the place where he had stored the heavy buffalo hide cover and the poles. They called several of the young warriors to help and the tipi was carried to a spot close to the creek where it was quickly erected. Then Otter’s limp form was carried inside and a fire started. It was now dark with only the glow of the long set sun showing behind western mountains. Night birds, insects and animals began to make themselves heard. Horses approaching from downstream were quickly identified as the returning hunters whose two led horses were heavily packed with buffalo meat. In their hurry to get back the hunters had packed only easily carried parts and some delicacies. The tongue, parts of intestines, liver, hump meat, and the haunches had been wrapped in the hide and packed. Now the hungry warriors gathered to distribute the meat and retired to the various fires to either roast the meat or eat it raw as they wished.

Jake and Anne were given a large jagged chunk of the hump meat as a token of honor. They cut small strips of the meat and roasted them quickly over the fire near the cabin. They were just too tired to do more, and they went immediately to their robes after eating. As he stretched out and closed his eyes, he noticed that there was no attempt on the part of the warriors to engage in a victory feast. By an unspoken mutual consent, it had decided that they would rest and wait for Strong Bull and the women to come back. The camp settled into silence interrupted only by the noise of quarreling horses, an occasional coyote and the song of crickets.

Jake arose at dawn the next day to find Strong Bull seated beside the fire near the cabin. He looked tired but clearly satisfied with himself.

“I have thought long and asked for a vision from Sineuwa. I, too, can see the wisdom of what you would do here. Even now the wagon road that crosses the land of the Shoshone and the Crow is covered with wagons of whites going to the west. It is like flies going to a pile of buffalo dung. Their numbers are very great, and still more come. Already we have them searching and digging in our mountains for the yellow metal that makes them crazy. Their holy men come to us and tell us we must have a new, white man’s God. They tell us we must become diggers in the dirt for our food. Like women. They shoot the animals that have been our food since the beginning of this land. We will fight them, but in the end, we will lose. Sineuwa has shown me all this. Because you have been a true friend to our people just as your father was, this valley shall be yours for as long as the sun shines. I will tell our old men and our people that this must be so that they will protect this place, and they may have a place to come when the white man’s trouble grows too great.” It was a long speech and a sobering one, but the importance of what Strong Bull had said was not lost to Jake.

“I am honored, and my heart is big for our people,” he replied. “This land shall be yours as long as I and my children live. When the buffalo are gone, we will have the white man’s cows to keep your bellies full. We will have the finest horses for your young men to ride. I thank you.”

“Your promise is good, but I pray that Sineuwa will let me die before the day I must eat the white man’s meat. Those who come, after me may have the shame of eating the meat that is like dung in my mouth.” This last was said sadly as if it were more of a prophecy. He finished with the comment “I will have the medicine man paint this promise on a buffalo skin so that all who come here may see it and respect this land. This land will be known as White Bear land.” Jake bent his head in agreement.

The rest of the day was to bring more surprises until White Bear Valley, or Bear Valley as it would later be known, fairly hummed with activity. At mid-day scouts reported riders approaching the valley with a sizeable string of pack animals. Jake quickly got his weapons and left with a party of warriors sent to intercept the intruders. The party rode boldly from the north of the Valley toward the riders. As they drew closer, Jake noticed that the figure in the lead was a familiar one. He drew up and shouted to his companions to do the same. It was Callahan, the red haired Irishman. His wife and two other Indians were with him. It turned out that the two other Indians were relatives of his wife that they had encountered while trading up north. The Utes with Jake were curious but relaxed when told that Callahan was a friend and Indians were Southern Utes—cousins. As Callahan rode up, he shouted:

“Ah, lad, ‘tis good to be seein’ you again, but surely I was not expectin’ such a large welcomin’ party.”

“We have had unwelcome visitors, Callahan, and our warriors are careful. You are lucky that red-hair yours could be clearly seen or it might be tied to a Ute saddle now.”

“I might have had a thing or two to say about that matter, lad. I didn’t come to this country yesterday ye know. But trouble, ye say. It wouldn’t by chance, have to do with a certain Crow warrior we ran into yesterday headin’ north now would it?”

“Yes, probably the one. He alone was permitted to live, but you will hear much more of this tonight. The Utes will feast and dance. Why do you come back with so many horses with packs?”

“Well, lad, I had the best of tradin’ and I thought I might be doin’ some tradin’

with the Utes to the south, and I knew ye’d be needin’ some goods yerself.”

“That’s true. I do need powder and ball for sure, and I could use flour, sugar and the like. I’m not sure I have much of trade though.

“Don’t worry yer head, Jake, we’ll work it out.” They continued to talk as they rode back to the Valley and Jake told of the fight with the Crow’s. Callahan finally understood why Jake’s ear looked like it did, and Jake finished telling of the fight with the Crows. When he told Callahan of Strong Bull’s promise about the valley, the trapper’s eyebrows raised, and he commented in a serious tone.

“Ye’ve done well, friend Jake. There’s not many as get that kinda treatment by the Utes. They’re very jealous of their land.”

“Yes, Manito has indeed smiled on me.”

Their entrance into the Valley was greeted with great interest. Ute warriors ed in with the pack from all directions to see the trapper, his wife and the pack of horses. When they found that he had trade goods, it fanned the flames of interest even more. It was finally Strong Bull who told the Utes to return to their tasks. They would have a chance to talk trade later. Callahan was now able to unpack and set up his camp near the cabin.

Throughout the afternoon, hunters returned to the camp with game that had been killed in the surrounding hills and valley. One group of eight warriors returned with the meat and hides of two fat buffalo cows. Others returned singly or in pairs with elk and deer. Fire pits had been dug in a number of places, and the horse herds mingling with Jake’s horses and cows made the valley buzz with

activities. As Jake stopped to look around at one point in the afternoon, he wondered if the combination of Trader, Indians, horses and camp were not a lot like the rendezvous his father had told him about when he was growing up. Whatever it was, he felt it must be one of the “shinin’ times” his father liked to talk about.

The Ute squaws, medicine men and few braves began straggling into the valley as the sun was setting. Young boys and unmarried women of various ages were included, and many of the women walked carrying packs. Despite the fact that they had traveled all day and part of the previous one, the entire character of the camp changed with their arrival. Within a short time the camp began to take on a much more organized appearance. Their sharp cries and commands echoing back and forth brought order where the braves had been more casual. The appearance given belied the role of a totally subservient member of the family. Certainly in their own domain, the men did not exert the authority normally shown.

Jake and Anne had ed Callahan, and together Anne and Bright Star, or Star as Callahan had named her, prepared a meal of roast buffalo and vegetables that the Indian women had gathered. In addition, there was squaw bread, for the Irishman had brought an ample supply of flower and corn meal. Callahan had also brought coffee, a treat that mattered little to Jake since he had never developed a taste for it, but Anne made appropriate appreciative noises. While the food was cooking, Jake and Callahan made a circuit through the camp, renewing acquaintances and exchanging stories. Jake was too young and inexperienced to catch the significance of the iring looks that came his way by a number of the unmarried women. In the year that he been gone from the tribe, he had grown in height to just over six feet. In width of shoulder and chest he had inherited his father’s impressive frame while still retaining the narrow hips of a horseman. The last year of hard work had served to fill out the muscles over his body. With his chiseled, dark eyes, high cheekbones and shoulder length black hair he was, indeed, an impressive figure. The attention was highlighted by the stories being told about his prowess as a warrior by others that had been with him. Callahan could not help but notice the attention he was getting, and commented:

“Well now, lad, it seems ye kin have yer pick of women here. Ye’d best be getting’ some horses ready to pay for the bride.”

“Do not make foolish talk, Callahan, these are not the people of my mother, and they do not like Our People.” And he tried to brush the suggestion aside.

“Have it yer way, Jake, but ye’d best be keepin’ yer eyes open, so’s ye don’t miss the canoe—so to speak.” His words would stay with Jake and grow into confused thinking he had not given serious consideration before. He would also find himself taking more careful thought of the attention being given to him.

When they returned to the cabin, it was to enjoy the first relaxed meal Jake had had in many days. The added treat of the vegetables and squaw bread made him realize what he had missed in the past few moons. It also set the resolve in his mind that the lack of the things he had come to appreciate from his father. He would need to find a way to trade regularly for staple food items. He would talk to Callahan about this matter.

Anne and Star seemed to have become fast friends. While their first time together had been marked by a certain amount of reserve on the part of both of them, the presence of the other women, and their previous time together seemed to bring them closer together. Jake was pleased because Star seemed happy in the role of teaching Anne the ways of the life she now lived, Despite the fact that neither of them understood the language of the other, they made do with gestures and elaborate demonstrations on the part of Star. The Indian woman also took the lead in teaching Anne the Indian word for each object and act. It was a strange turn event tor Jake to be forced to use Ute words with Anne rather than the language of Our People.

At the end of the meal Callahan settled back with a pipe of tobacco and Jake leaned back with heavy eyelids. But they had no more than done so than the drums started by the Utes. They began with a slow steady beat that Jake recognized as a call, but Anne heard as an atonal ominous thing. Both Jake and Callahan rose to heed the call, and Star took Anne’s hand and led her after the men.

The dance began slowly with individual warriors re-acting their fight with the Crows. At times, two or three would in the dance, but at all times there were the throaty ullulations of the women’s iration for the bravery of the dancers. As the dance progressed more and more warrior’s ed until the area in front of the drummers and the fires was filled with dancers moving in intricate steps to the ever increasing cadence of the drums. Anne was clearly mesmerized and appalled by the acts of violence being acted out by the dancers. Jake’s enjoyment of the scene was interrupted by the realization that he needed to explain to the girl the need for expression of the complex mix of emotions involved in the fight of the previous day. It was difficult for him to tell her of the need to show manhood, loyalty, skill, defense of your land and willingness to die for your “family”, but he tried. In the end she acknowledged her acceptance of what he said. Not that she agreed, but she accepted the beliefs of the people who lived in this land,

When it became Jake’s turn to the dance, he arose and moved to the group at the center of the fire. He re-enacted the attack on the Crow’s horses, the retreat to the Valley, and the running fight with the Crows. His every action was greeted with approval by the squaws. At the end, the drums reached their loudest, and all of the Utes entered into the dance. Strong Bull pulled Anne to her feet and took her to the group of women now entering the space of the dancers. She stumbled and faltered, but was finally overcome by the sheer, mind-numbing force of the drumbeat. Her feet and body moved in time with the other dancers and she moved until ready to drop. A smiling Star took her by the arm and led her away. It had been a most revealing night for a young girl of 15 years.

The dance continued, but Jake and Callahan wandered away into the darkness toward the cabin. Both were ready for much needed rest. When they reached the cabin, Jake and Callahan agreed that they would meet in the morning to discuss trading and the future needs of this relationship. Jake sank gratefully into his robes and was asleep in an instant.

Chapter 10

The morning arrived with a great silence over the camp. The combination of dancing and food had brought about a reluctance to leave their robes in the morning. Jake arose shortly after dawn and went to the fire in front of the cabin. Strong Bull was already there. He greeted Jake and the two sat in companionable silence for many minutes before Strong Bull said,

“We will go today after our people have traded with Red Hair. We will leave the medicine men and some of the women to care for the warriors who were hurt by the Crows, but we must return to hunt. The women will help you with the robes and meat taken here. Maybe they can teach your white woman how to do this work,” he added with a sly smile.

“The white girl must be returned to her people,” Jake insisted stubbornly. “But it is a difficult thing for an Indian to do.”

“Why not just leave her in the trail where they can find her. There are plenty of our girls in the camp who will share your blankets. Besides they can do much work.” Something inside Jake rebelled at the idea of taking a squaw in such a casual way, and maybe it was the thought of giving away his independence at such a young age. Maybe it was his father’s teaching and example. Whatever it was he replied,

“No, Strong Bull, I will welcome the help of these women, but my plans and work on this place are not complete enough now. I will wait another year until you come back.”

“As you wish, my son.”

Callahan had emerged from the cabin and was rummaging through the packs in preparation for the day. When he had opened all he intended to present he came to the fire and squatted near Jake and Strong Bull,

“And a good mornin’ to yez. I trust ye both slept well.” Jake smiled and nodded, but Strong Bull said nothing, and merely looked curiously at the redhead.

“The goods I have are mostly common things like powder and ball, and beans and flour. It might be a bit difficult to trade that with Indians havin’ only horses and a few weapons from the Crows,” he concluded.

“What does he say?” asked Strong Bull. When Jake explained, he responded,

“We will trade the horses, but not the guns. We must keep them.” They lingered near the fire, and Callahan got his coffeepot and began heating some of the bitter liquid from the previous night. Jake brought out chunks of roast buffalo and squaw bread, and they chewed on the meat and washed it down with coffee. Finally, Strong Bull arose and said:

“I would buy this powder and the metal for making the round balls. How many horses do you want?”

“Well now,” responded Callahan in surprise, but quickly assuming a crafty

traders look. “I cannot tell ye all of it. Friend Jake here’ll be needin’ some of it. And I need some meself. I’ve got about 200 pounds, an’ I suppose ye could be havin’ half of it.”

“How many horses?”

“Four.”

“Done. Choose the horses from those tied in the trees there that were taken from the Crows. I would have some of the white powder to make this bread. How many horses?” And the trading went on. Other braves had arisen and they ed the trading for smaller items like knives and gaudy blankets. Finally, the goods had shrunk to the point that Callahan said:

“Enough. I’ll be needin’ the rest to keep me through the winter.” And the trading dwindled to a few half-hearted attempts to persuade Callahan to part with more goods. Then, they too, wandered back to their tipis to prepare to leave. The women were busy packing and loading, and by noon, they were ready.

Strong Bull approached the cabin carrying a carefully rolled buckskin and followed by a delegation of older warriors. When he stopped, he and two other Utes unrolled the buckskin and they held it up for the group to see. It had been carefully painted with bright colors from leaves, clay and berries. Around the outside of the skin were three circles with figures of horses and men showing the battle with the Crows. He could see himself running off the horses and Runs Fast going for help. He also saw himself leading the fight at the mouth of the valley, and realized that Left Hand had been generous in his praise of his actions. Finally, there was the last battle with all the Utes represented. In the middle there was a crude drawing of the valley with its surrounding mountains and a larger painting showing Jake, and, to his surprise, a woman with blond hair—Anne’s.

Beside both of them was a painting of a huge buffalo bull—Strong Bull.

“This will be your medicine, White Bear. You must never lose it. It is a sign to all men that White Bear will live in this valley as we have promised. If anyone harms White Bear and the woman, they harm Strong Bull and the people. No one can take this land or they will answer to my people. Strong Bull has spoken.” With that he and the rest stepped forward and gripped Jake’s shoulders in a sign of brotherhood. When it was Left Hand’s turn, his face broke into a rare smile and he said:

“‘We will come back brother. You are one of us, and have given us our life.” With that they turned and mounted. It was an impressive sight with 40 mounted warriors, a number of wives and the pack animals making their way down the valley and out the entrance. They would go down to the valley of the Bear River and hunt the buffalo in its broad valley.

Jake looked around at his valley with the four remaining tipis, the remains of fires and fire pits, scattered remains of food and broken equipment. He had enjoyed the companionship of the Utes, but he could do without the refuse left behind.

That evening Jake paid a visit to the tipi where Otter lay, and was surprised and somewhat frightened by the appearance of death that hung over his friend. He lay pale and motionless near the fire with his breath coming in infrequent, panting gasps. The only other sounds in the tipi were the occasional snapping of the fire and the constant prayers of the medicine man. As Jake sat watching, the medicine man placed shredded leaves and bark on the fire, and when a pungent, light colored smoke rose, he directed the sacred smoke over Otter’s body. When that was completed, he went through the ceremony of lighting the medicine pipe and offering smoke to the gods. Jake also noted that poultices had been made of shredded buffalo dung and the leaves and roots of a number of herbs. These had been placed over the wound. By the time Jake left, there had still been no

movement or sign of life on the part of Otter.

Early the next morning Jake was awakened by the death song being raised. Otter had died during the night. He walked to the tipi where the burial preparations were already underway, and some of the women were moving to the mourning. Jake turned back to the cabin and was met by Anne. Her eyes were wide and frightened.

“What’s happening? Why are they screaming?” she asked.

“Otter is dead. They will mourn his death, and then he must be buried,” he replied. She turned away and said:

“So much death. Why must so many die? Why can’t we just live here quietly? I’m so sad.”

“Death is part of our life. He died as a warrior, and he will go to the land of many buffalo. My father has told me many times that life is only worth living if it is worth fighting for. I must believe that.”

“Yes, I suppose that is true, but it seems so—so useless when so many must die.”

“It is only useless if everyone believes as you do. In this land there are many who would take what we have, and then take our lives. We must be ready for them.”

“Here now, what’s all this gloomy talk so early in the mornin’,’ sang out a chipper Callahan who had walked up behind them.

“Otter is dead,” replied Jake.

“Ah, and a sad thing it is, to be sure, but he’s off to better huntin’ grounds, an the better for it.” Callahan’s cheerful approach to a beautiful morning was not to be dampened. “Jake, let’s be off to havin’ a bit of breakfast. I’ve got a favor to be askin’ you,” he continued. As they walked back to the cabin and Star began heating food, Callahan talked much about the trading and the fact that he was now a rich man, or at least rich by comparison with his trappers days. With a horse herd that had nearly doubled and trade goods remaining, he had quite a stake.

After they had eaten and Callahan had stoked his clay pipe, he began:

“Ah had originally thought to take the goods to the Utes down south where Star came from, but tradin’ with yer friends here was just as good. Ah’m thinkin’ that I could trade the horses and the rest of the goods to the Utes down south. Ah could take the two braves and make a run down, do the tradin’ and be back here with plenty of furs and robes in no time atall. Well at least it win be a matter of weeks. Then Ah could take it all to the fort at Steele, and trade it for more goods. This tradin’ thing could be a lot easier than standin’ in ice water tryin’ to get an animal to swim into my trap. What do ye think, Jake?”

“Well, it might work, but there is always a problem with Indians and renegades.”

“We’ll be travelin’ fast lad, and Ah’ll have two braves with me. Don’t ye think

it’s worth a try?”

“Yes, others do so. You might make it work.”

“Good. It’s settled then, but Ah’ll be needin’ a favor, lad. With travelin’ fast, Ah’ll be needin’ a place for Star to stay. Ah was wonderin’ if she could stay here for a few weeks. Of course she’d be stayin’ in the tipi, and not be botherin’ you. She could be a help to Anne, if you wanted. I know she’d be safe with you and the Utes lookin’ after her, and I’ll give a share of powder and lead and food that I brought. What do ye say?

“She is welcome to stay in this place as long as you need, and the food and ammunition for my guns is a fair trade.” It turned out to be more than fair. Callahan was very generous with supplies of flour, beans, coffee, tobacco, baking powder, a bolt of cloth, needles and thread, knives, beads, soap and powder and lead for the rifles. As a final gesture, he brought out a curved blade about two feet long that he attached to a four foot pole with handles and said:

“Here now, lad, Ah found this along the trail abandoned by some settler. Ye’ll be needin’ this scythe for cuttin’ some grass for yer stock for the winter. Jake ed a similar scythe that his father had used as an instrument of torture. He also knew it was a handy tool to have.

“I thank you, Callahan. It is good.” From that point on, the preparations went forward rapidly. By evening, Callahan was packed and ready to leave in the morning.

During the afternoon, Jake rode out to the upper part of the valley to check on

the cattle and horses. Red Eagle was protective of the mares and foals, but when Jake did not challenge him, he allowed him to approach the four foals. They were healthy and frisky, and not easily approached. Jake realized that he would need to start working with all of the horses again soon.

The cattle were another matter. Both cows and the bull were very protective of the four new calves. Jake did not dismount, but he noted that the calves were doing well. He was satisfied, but he knew he would need to begin preparation for the coming winter. As he rode back to the cabin, he took note of a number of places where shelter and forage could be had. He would need to find a way to pen the cattle in these places to avoid having them drift away during storms. His other problem would be open water.

“Ah well, one more winter and maybe I will have learned enough to be able to cope with this life,” he thought.

Chapter 11

Callahan departed early the next morning with each of the three men trailing 15 horses behind them. It was not the happy scene that it should have been. Star had chosen to sulk over the fact that she could not accompany her husband on a visit back to her people. No amount of explanation, pleading or threatening could persuade her to leave the tipi. The Utes gathered to watch the departure and smiled knowingly at the white man’s inability to control his woman. They had their own ways of insuring that a wife obeyed her husband. Callahan finally gave up in disgust and mounted his horse. Shouting a farewell to Jake, he led his two braves and their horses toward the entrance to the valley. Once he was gone, Star emerged from the tipi smiling and happy as always. She simply had to show her husband her displeasure.

The days and weeks that followed slipped into a routine of alternately hunting and making ready for the cattle and horses for the winter. Jake and the few remaining Utes hunted buffalo regularly the Bear Valley. The need to lay up a supply of meat for the winter was on his mind much of the time, and the hides were needed for trade since he had no other means of trading. He would hunt and trap the otter, marten, bear, deer and elk in the winter, but for now, he needed tanned buffalo hides and meat.

The smoking racks were set out and kept in constant use, and squaws were gathering berries, roots, pine nuts, and pounding meat to be mixed with them and stored. Hides were pegged out in many places in preparation for tanning. Star did her share to help Anne with the tasks, but it was obvious that Anne would never be as proficient as the squaws at this work. She did, however, excel at cooking and sewing. She also took an interest in working with the horses and cattle both with and without Jake. She seemed to have a natural ability to train and care for both of them. Her most pronounced talent, however, became her proficiency with a rifle and pistol. Jake had encouraged her to practice, and she

did so with a will. It soon became apparent that she was nearly as good as Jake, much to the surprise of the Utes.

At the end of the second week, all of the wounded Utes had recovered to the point where they could travel. Jake was approached by Hunts Alone.

“Our warriors are well again, and we must return to our people. We will as soon as all is ready.”

“I understand and my heart is heavy to see you go,” replied Jake.

‘‘We too will have heavy hearts to leave this place, and our friend White Bear. It is good to be in this place, and we will be happy when we can come back to our friend.”

“My brothers will always have a home in this land.” Jake was both saddened and relieved to see them go. The pleasure of their company was off set by having people so near, the need for food and the extra horses eating the forage in the valley. He also enjoyed the help on the hunts, but was frustrated by their natural aversion to work in the camp and with the horses and cattle. No matter what his feelings were, preparations began immediately.

In the morning, as Jake walked past the Ute tipis to the creek for water, he was startled to see the form of one of the Indians lying outside the tipi. There was no movement, but Jake ed by not wishing to interfere. When he returned the form was still there and Jake knelt beside it in the gray dawn light to see what was wrong. It was one of the young wives of a brave named Mad Dog who was known for his temper. As Jake looked closer, he could see that she had been

severely “lodge-poled”—beaten with a stick. There were numerous bruises and cuts on her head and neck, some of which still oozed blood. Jake could only imagine the other places on her body that had been injured. As he rose, he was greeted by the voice of Mad Dog coming from the tipi:

“Do not bother with her, brother. She is a fat lazy cow, and not worthy to be the wife of a Ute warrior. She is cast out.” The tone of his voice and the last comment made it clear that he had rejected her for good, and none of the others would help her. If she survived she would have to make her way back to her family on her own—if she would accept the shame. Jake said quietly:

“We will care for her. When your anger cools, brother, she will be waiting.”

‘‘Never! You are a fool if you take her to your tipi, but then you have the white man’s blood. Do as you wish. I am through with her.” As Jake was returning to the cabin, his thoughts about the words against him raised his anger, but he called to Anne and Star:

“Come. We must help a woman of the Utes. She has been hurt.” Anne appeared first with concern written over her face:

‘‘What is it? What has happened? Have we been attacked?”

‘‘Do not ask questions. We will talk later,” grunted Jake not wishing to discuss the matter too openly. Star made no comment until she saw the woman by the tipi. She stopped and said:

‘‘It is no good. We should not make trouble in a man’s family.”

“What did she say?” whispered Anne.

“She said it will cause trouble. Here, help me carry her to the cabin,” he whispered. As they moved away with Anne holding the limp form by the legs and Jake ing the shoulders, he could almost feel the disapproving eyes of the Utes peering from the tipis. When they reached the cabin, they placed the woman on a robe on the floor, and Anne shooed him outside to heat water while they began removing her clothes to examine her more fully with Star. As he sat near the fire waiting for the water to boil and chewing on last night’s roast buffalo and biscuits, he could hear the soft, sympathetic oohs and ahhs of surprise and dismay as the extent of the beating became known to Anne and Star. Anne hurried from the cabin and took the heated water inside to begin bathing the wounds. A short time later, Star darted to her tipi and returned with pots and jars of herbs and oils to be used to treat the injured woman. Throughout this treatment, she did not regain consciousness. Finally, everything that could be done was completed and Anne and Star emerged from the cabin.

‘‘We did everything we could Jake,” explained Anne. ‘‘We will put cold cloths on her for the fever, but she don’t seem real good. What’s going to happen to her?”

“We will care for her until her husband’s heart changes, and then she can go back.”

‘‘Oh no, Jake, not after he beat her that way. You can’t.”

“He is her husband. She belongs to him.” Anne knew that more argument was useless, but in her mind she decided she would not let it happen.

The Utes completed their packing the next morning, and began filing out of the valley. Mad Dog rode past the cabin, defiantly threw a bundle of clothes belonging to the injured woman to the door and shook his fist as he rode away. As the last of the group rode from the deserted campsite, Hunts Alone rode over to Jake and said:

‘‘I am saddened that we must leave this way. The matter with the woman is not good even though I know that you have taken care of her. Mad Dog will not forget. We will speak with the elders when we return, but you must be careful. Many times Mad Dog has done things in anger that are against our ways, but most people fear him when he is angry, and do not trouble him.”

“I thank you for your words, and I will be careful. May the Great Spirit give you strength to return.” And then they were gone. Jake felt a quick pang of loneliness as he looked around at the now deserted area near the cabin. The pang ed quickly as he thought instead of the freedom of action he had gained by not having a large number of people to look after. The three women back at the camp were enough.

With the need to constantly hunt for food gone, he could now turn his efforts toward the horses and cattle and the ranch. He would continue to hunt for fresh meat when needed, but there was no longer an urgency to it. He would wait for the fall hunt to obtain furs and more meat for winter.

One of the first tasks he set for himself was accumulating a supply of cut grass for winter food for the cattle. But first it had to be cut. Jake had decided he would spend each morning cutting and gathering grass from the Valley. He had

seen his father use the scythe in Beaver Valley, but it was not until now that he could appreciate the skill his father had shown. He slashed at the tall grass, and the blade of the unwieldy instrument bounced off the ground and rocks in all directions. Grass flew this way and that and cut in all lengths. By the end of the first morning, he had learned two things. The first of these was that it didn’t pay to fight the scythe. In the early hours as he fought and struggled to make the blade do his bidding, he thought hard about what he had seen his father do, and he ed that there was a certain flow and rhythm to Old Jake’s movements. He also ed him saying:

“Work the tool son, don’t fight it.” The second thing he learned was that the rough wooden handle caused blisters on both hands. It was certainly not something a respected Arapahoe warrior could be proud of. Ah well, he had made his commitment, and he would stick to it. He returned to the cabin where he had vowed to do such finish work as windows, a proper door and some more caulking with a mixture of clay and grass. And then, there was the fireplace to fix to burn properly. His clumsy efforts had produced a pile of rocks that refused to draw properly and only succeeded in filling the cabin with smoke. He wasn’t sure what to do yet, but the alternative of cooking outside as he had been doing would not be acceptableto the women now living there during the winter.

He began with the chore of caulking. He mixed grass with the clay he had found, and began pushing the glue-like material between the logs with a shaped wooden tool provided by Callahan. His blistered hands did not help in the task, but he stuck doggedly at the work. Anne came by during the afternoon and watched his clumsy attempts without comment. Finally he said:

‘‘The woman is better?”

“She’s awake, but still in a lot of pain. Looks like she’ll be alright.”

‘‘It is good. Maybe she can return to her husband soon.”

“Dunno about that. She nearly fainted when we talked about it.” Jake frowned. He really did not need anymore problems or guests.

The days that followed turned into a week, and then two with no sign of Callahan. The tasks Jake had set for himself began to take shape, and he began to see the progress he had made. He talked to Star and explained his need for antelope hides scraped thin to serve as windows, and she set to work willingly. The wife of Mad Dog whose name turned out to be Little Squirrel had recovered from her beating. The short, plump young woman with round cheeks and a smiling face proved to be a willing helper in the company of the two other women. It was also found that she was not willing to work alone with a man. She did resemble a squirrel in both appearance and quick, bustling movements, but she was quick to learn and mastered the cooking instructions given by Anne. Between cooking and helping with the hides, she was a welcome addition to the group. When Jake realized what was happening, he was not pleased. The closer the bonds grew, the harder it would be to send her back to her people.

A showdown on the situation was avoided at the end of the third week when Callahan showed up. He rode up on a horse that was gaunt and clearly ridden hard. As Jake approached the trapper, he was greeted with:

“Ah, me boy, and its good to be seein’ ye.”

“You have been gone a long time, and you look as if you had a hard trip. Where are the others?” commented Jake.

‘‘Well, now, ‘tis a long story. The short of it is that they’ve run off and the Sioux have taken all the horses, but Ah’ll be tellin’ ye about it after Ah’ve had a bit o’ food and rest.”

“Sioux? Wait, did the Sioux follow you?”

“No lad. Ah’ve not seen anyone in the last three days. The trail’s clean, but I just don’t know what Sioux were doin’ this far south.”

“Rest then. We will talk tonight. I will ride out and check the Bear Valley for anyone who might have followed.” Callahan nodded and turned to a chattering Star who had been tugging at the fringes of his buckskins.

“Come on woman, take good care of the horse. He’s been most sorely pressed the last few days. Ah’ll be needin’ some food and a sleep so hurry along now.” And with that, he turned and walked toward the tipi. Jake quickly saddled one of the mules and headed down the valley toward the entrance. Tying the mule to the makeshift fence, he climbed the rocks on the ridge and scanned the larger Bear Valley. Nothing moved except for a dust devil that busily made it way across the flats finally losing itself as it reached the river. A pair of hawks made lazy circles over the far riverbank and in the distance a small herd of buffalo grazed undisturbed. Jake watched for over an hour occasionally looking away and then quickly back to try to catch any motion. Nothing. Finally satisfied, he climbed back down and rode back to the cabin. He was greeted by Anne.

‘‘What’s happened? Why is Bear alone? Is he alright?”

“Easy Anne. All I know is that the Sioux attacked him, and he lost all his horses

and goods. We will have to wait until later, when he tells us about it.” The girl chattered on, wondering about whether the Sioux would come and what the trapper would do now.

“I think they will not come. With all the horses and goods they gained they will not chase a single man. They will be more anxious to return to their people to tell of their victory.” At the same time he thought how glad he was that he had not insisted that she go with Callahan to the whites. Even now she would be either dead or a slave in one of the Sioux warrior’s lodges. Anne finally quieted down and went back to the cabin to help Little Squirrel with the evening meal while Jake went back to work on the log fence he had been working on for horse shelter. He had built the wall in an L shape to provide shelter from both north and west winds. There really wasn’t that much to do. He was really just adding a few finishing touches.

In the long shadows of the late summer dusk, he went back to the cabin and ed Anne and Squirrel in the meal they had prepared. There was still no sign of Callahan. At last, Jake decided he would wait no longer, and went back to the cabin to sleep. He would talk to Callahan in the morning.

When Jake awoke at dawn, he arose, restarted the fire and then rode out to check the horses and cattle. It would not do to have the Sioux or any others to slip in and help themselves to his growing herds. He was aware that the Sioux were generally a long way away, he also knew that they made such trips at times when they could get away with it. There were also other tribes that slipped into the land of the Utes whenever they could. He knew that must keep a steady watch for these people. With his circuit completed and no evidence of invaders, he rode back to have breakfast. He was not surprised to find Callahan waiting. The man had slept for nearly 15 hours.

“Greetings. You look better this morning. You have rested and eaten, and the Sprits have smiled on you.”

“Yes, lad. ‘Tis indeed a brighter world this morning. You have done well with this place, and Star tells me ye’ve picked up another wife in the process. See, yer family is already growin’.” Jake ducked his head and mumbled:

“She is not my wife. She is the wife of Mad Dog. I will send her to him soon.”

“Well, now, the way I hear it, she won’t go. Maybe ye should not be so hasty.” Why did it always seem to Jake that he had no choices in these things?

“Anyways,” continued Callahan, “It looks like she’s a good hand, and ye’ll be needin’ all the help ye kin get.” Jake didn’t disagree, but he reserved his right to send her back later. They continued talking through their meal, and Jake learned the outcome of the trappers ill-fated trading venture. Callahan had gone south and traded with the Utes. He had started the journey north to the Fort with his two Indian companions and 26 horses heavily laden with tanned buffalo hides and furs. They met scattered bands of Utes on the way north through the North Park, but the trip had been uneventful. The trouble had come when they were a days ride south of the Fort. They had camped for the night in the shelter of a stand of pine trees on the flank of the Sierra Madre mountains. It was a good camp with room to tether the horses and screening trees to provide the men with protection. But apparently the Sioux had scouted the party during the day. They were awakened the following morning by a large party of warriors who rode through the camp firing their rifles and giving out blood thirsty yells. Callahan and the other two men had rolled from their robes, grabbed their rifles and scrambled to their horses. From their vantage point they could see the Sioux regrouping and preparing to charge the camp again. With the packhorses already in panic, Callahan had seen that the next charge would be enough to cause them to break loose, and the fight would be short lived. His two Indian helpers could see the handwriting on the wall as well. They promptly mounted and rode off through the trees toward the higher part of the mountains.

Callahan was not so easily dismayed. Taking careful aim with the help of a convenient branch on one of the trees, he had squeezed the trigger and had the satisfaction of seeing one of the more vocal Sioux plunge from his horse. The cries of rage that rose from the war party convinced him it was time to go. He mounted and rode rapidly after the departed Utes, leaving all of his horses and goods behind. Six of the Siouxwarriors had ridden in pursuit while the rest remained in the camp to gather the spoils. He had spent the next eight days eluding them, but now in the warm light of morning, he was philosophical about the venture.

‘‘T’was a fair try, lad. Ah still think it was a good idea, and Ah’ll be fer tryin’ again next year, but fer now Ah’ll need to build me a stake again,” he concluded.

“Where will you go, Callahan?”queried Jake in hope that he would be moving on.

“‘This a fair question. Ah had thought about stayin’ here for a bit, but that will depend on you, since yer now the landlord of this Valley.”

‘‘Landlord? What do you mean?”

‘‘Wal, that skin ye got hangin’ on yer wall in the cabin says this valley belongs to White Bear, and any as don’t respect it’ll answer to the Utes. Ah guess that means ye got the say over what happens here, but Ah will say that if ye agree Ah kin stay, Ah’ll be helpin’ ye with the fixin’ up. That fireplace fer example is a bloody disaster.”

“Yes, it is so, and of course you can stay.” Again Jake was embarrassed, but he

had tried hard to make the fireplace right. He just did not have the experience he needed. He also realized in some vague way the he had just ed the first test of ownership of this land he had chosen. It was settled. Callahan could stay until his stake was made.

When Jake told Anne about the agreement, she smiled and a special sparkle appeared in her blue eyes. She was delighted. The prospect of having the two other women around to provide a social element and share the work eased some of her concerns significantly. Besides, she was slowly but surely gaining an ability to speak the Ute language. The constant exchange of words between the women as they worked were beginning to make sense to the girl, and she was actually able to communicate in a rough way. In addition, if the others left, what would she do here alone with Jake. Her inmost feelings were confused and fragmentary. That she was attracted to him was without doubt. But he always seemed cold and remote. At times he seemed to actually despise her for her weakness and inability to do the things that the Indian women did, and yet, she tried so hard. Maybe time would permit her to develop some of the skills he ired in the women.

As for Jake, he was too preoccupied with the thought of having the older, more experienced man around to notice the change in Anne’s attitude. He did feel a twinge of concern, maybe even jealousy, at the thought that the older man would take charge and push him into the background. He need not have worried at this time. Callahan had other plans, and they didn’t involve taking care of cows or other women. He did, however, bend to the recognition of Jake’s dream to the extent that he suggested a new scheme for the development of the cattle herd.

“Ye know, Jake, Ah saw a lot of cattle up along the trail to Oregon and California. Strays from all the wagon trains goin’ that way were seen. T’would be a shame to be lettin’ the Indians kill ’em off. We could go up and bring down as many as we could catch. All free for the takin’ they’d be. Them settlers is long gone from the cattle, ye see.” Jake’s young heart skipped a beat. After Callahan’s experience with the Sioux, he had little desire to tangle with Siouxor whites that

might show up along the trail to regain the 75 cattle. His mind churned as it tossed the alternatives back and forth. Was the gamble worth it? He certainly did want the extra cattle. But—, finally he said:

“How long would this take? What about the women, and how much danger will we have from whites along that trail?”

‘‘Now, not to worry,” replied Callahan. ‘‘Star is a good woman. I’m sure she could take care of things. We could slip up and back in two, maybe three weeks. It’ll be easy as me mother’s pie, lad. We can avoid any get together with whites. It’ll be no problem.”

“Let me talk to Anne first. I must think, about this thing, and I also must be sure that Anne will be safe.”

“Do that, and when we get back, Ah’ll help ye with fencin’, fixin’ the fireplace and plannin’ fer the winter.”

When Jake sat down with Anne to explain what Callahan was planning, it was in a grave and serious manner. However, he no sooner started than Anne jumped up and clapped her hands in excitement, saying:

‘‘It’s a wonderful idea, Jake, I’ll go with you. I don’t want to stay here in case we get attacked by Indians.”

“No Anne, there may be other Sioux or Crows and bad white men where we

must go. It is too dangerous. You must stay here.” And the image of his mother, shot in the back crowded into his mind. It must not happen to this girl.

‘‘Nonsense,’’ she replied. “You know I’m better at herding cows than you are. Besides, I can almost shoot as well as you can, and I know that you will be able to avoid being attacked. You are very good at keeping away from enemies, so I don’t expect to be caught. It’s settled. I’m going.” Completely overwhelmed by this decisiveness in someone he had considered a bit useless, Jake sat in stunned silence at the unquestionable logic of her arguments. The fact that they would need all the help they could get to gather the cattle and then drive them the distance to their Valley was obvious, Taking his silence as assent, Anne immediately began making plans for the trip. How had this happened, Jake wondered. He had not made the decision to go yet. But as he thought about it, he knew the logic was good, and he came to realize that he had known all along that it was the right thing to do. Her willingness to kill when the time came could not be doubted after the fight with the Crows.

Later in the day he and Callahan made plans for the trip. They would take an extra horse each and three pack mules to carry their supplies. Travelling light, they would go to the Oregon trail and gather what stock they could and return quickly to the Bear Valley. If they got 50 head of cattle it would be as much as they could handle. As they talked, Jake’s confidence rose to the point where he became convinced that it could be done. They decided to leave two days later and spend the two remaining days preparing.

Chapter 12

By dawn on the second morning the three travelers were ready to depart It was a gray, cloudy morning with one of those cold drizzling rains that are characteristic of September in the mountains. Anne was dressed totally in buckskins just as the two men were, but it did not keep her from getting wet and cold. Star and Little Squirrel watched in silence as the group mounted and rode away from the cabin. They had been thoroughly instructed by Jake about their responsibilities in his absence, but it did not make them any happier about being left alone. Since only Star could shoot, they were told that in the case of an attack, they were to flee as quickly as possible.

The morning wore on as the trio made their way down the Bear River, Jake reflected on other trips in these mountains. Why did it always seem that the rain god was so busy whenever Jake had to travel. The joys of a long day in a wet saddle were never to be forgotten, and he wondered how Anne was faring. When he looked back at her, he could not detect a sign of quitting. She was riding head down into the rain with the skin cape given her by Star wrapped around her, but her entire attitude was one of anticipation. He would have to speak to her about staying alert and keeping her rifle ready even in the rain, but he was not displeased by her lack of complaints. Maybe that would come later.

Jake had chosen to take the mules for packing, and as Anne’s mount. She had objected to riding a mule instead of a horse, but the trust in the reliability of these animals that he had gained from his father prevailed. He had worked with these animals to the point where there was a unique trust between them, and they would respond to his voice commands. On this trip, he did not want a panicked horse bolting with the girl if trouble came.

Despite the rain and wet ground, they made good time on this first day. They made camp on the side of a small mountain above the Bear River near the point where it turned westward in its broad valley. The rain had stopped just before dark, and the small fire they built was a most welcome addition. Jake and Callahan threw together a quick meal, set out clothing and equipment to dry and everyone rolled into their robes to get warm and sleep at an early hour.

The next three days became repetitions of the first day with the exception that the rain had stopped, leaving a sparkling land of jewel-like beauty through which they ed. They crossed the mountain range on the north side of the Bear Valley and moved into the high desert land laying to the south of the trail along the Sweetwater River. Here was land Jake had heard about all his life from his father and mother, and he ed the story of their flight from the renegade white man along the Sweetwater trail. On the fifth day they reached the trail along the Sweetwater River. However, he did not have time to really investigate the area. Callahan kept them moving as fast as practical to reach the area where he had seen the strays.

They selected a campsite near the trail land in about the center of the area. The campsite was on the creek near Ferris Mountain with a small box canyon nearby that could be used to hold the strays. No effort was made to make the camp permanent since they would be moving south as soon as the gathering was made. Now came the hard part. They would have to screen the area on both sides of the River itself in both directions along the trail to gather any strays they could find.

The gather began the next day with the three riders spread out at quarter mile intervals in a long sweep to the west along the Sweetwater. The cattle could be expected to be found near the river as it was their source of water and forage. Unless they had followed one of the creeks leading into Sweetwater, they would be more likely found within a short distance of this water and food. Nothing was found in the first morning, but late that afternoon, as they swept the area north of the river closer to the low mountain range on that side, Anne heard Jake’s halloo. She had barely kicked the mule into a trot to him when she heard a similar

shout from Callahan who had been riding on her right side.

When Anne reached Jake’s side, his eyes were shining and a broad smile creased his face. He shouted:

“Look Anne, there are almost as many white man cows as we now have.” There in the hollow below him were five cows and one calf with all of the cows showing signs of having been recently fresh. The lack of other calves apparently meant that predators had been busy. Turning his horse, he shouted to Anne as he started to ride toward Callahan:

“Drive them toward the river. I will help Callahan,” and he was gone. Feeling suddenly alone, but game as she could be, she trotted the mule to the cows. She had not missed the use of the word ‘‘we’’, and a warm glow settled in her chest.

There was no sign of alarm by the cows at her approach. These were cows that had been under the control of settlers moving west. All of their lives had been spent in the company of man, and insufficient time had ed for them to become wild. They readily moved ahead of her as she began pushing them southward toward the river. By the time she reached the water, Jake and Callahan had gathered another group of nine cattle. Their gather had included a large, aggressive bull who chose to challenge Callahan. The challenge was short lived as the man took the fight out of him with a short length of rawhide wielded from the back of the horse. The bull, too, was product of the settlers for life, and the sharp reminder istered by the trapper brought quick, albeit guarded obedience.

Jake was elated as they moved the cattle across the shallow river and eastward toward their camp. He chattered like a small boy at the thought of the ease with which they had increased the size of their herd. The fact that they were many

miles from Bear Valley and home, did not damper his spirits. Only later would those worries beset him. For now it was a rosy world.

As they reached the box canyon where they had camped, the sun was already dropping behind the western hills. They worked furiously in the gathering darkness to drag sagebrush and downed branches across the entrance. Using some of their ropes, they stretched them through the brush to provide a temporary barrier. By the time they had finished, they were too tired for camp tasks, and simply ate cold food and dropped into their robes.

In the next two days, they were able to gather 38 more cows and calves by sweeping the land in both directions along the river. As they sat around the fire eating on the third night, some of the early elation had worn off. The high spirits had worn down by the realization that it was hard work, and the driving of the cattle was going to be difficult for only three of them. They had discussed the fact that maybe it was time to start driving the cattle to their Valley. As the fire burned down, Callahan suddenly said,

“Jake, there’s a campfire down there along the river.” Jake turned but didn’t see anything at first.

‘‘There! To the east there. Must be white people since it’s such a big one,” claimed Callahan.

“Yes. I see it. It is a white man’s fire, and it must be a small party since there is only one fire,” responded Jake.

“Let’s go over, lad, and have us a look. Maybe we can have us a cup o’ coffee,

and get some news,” said Callahan. Jake was a bit reluctant. His zeal to send Anne back to her people had waned as he had seen her grow as a member of the group, and his basic feeling about white men was very mistrusting after all his experience. He said,

‘‘It is very late, Callahan, and we must watch the cattle and rest if we are leaving soon.”

“Ahh, lad, we should be neighborly, an’ them cows’ll be alright while we’re gone. Come on.” He moved to his horse and began saddling it, and Jake and Anne followed more slowly. Anne had said nothing, but her eyes were wide with apprehension. She really was not sure what would happen and whether Jake intended to turn her over to the whites. She said a quick prayer as she saddled the mule.

As they approached the fire, Callahan yelled a greeting:

‘‘Halloo the camp. Can we come in? We are friendly.” There was a bit of scurrying around and it was obvious that no guard had been set up by the campers. The voice that came back was somewhat unsteady.

“Whose out thar? Who be ye, sneakin’ up on an honest folks thataway?” The speaker was a short, heavyset man with a paunch that indicated that he had not missed many meals.

“Me name’s Callahan and Ah have two friends with me.”

“Come in real slow mister. We’ll be a watchin’ yuh.” Callahan moved slowly forward, but Jake and Anne held back well behind him waiting to see what would happen. Callahan stopped at the edge of the light of the fire with his rifle balanced across in front of him. From where he sat he could see four men, two women and two wagons with associated livestock. The men were nondescriptive and shabbily dressed after many days on the trail. The women reflected the same faded, worn appearance. The equipment showed a degree of neglect that foretold trouble as the trail got longer. As the silence stretched on, Callahan finally said:

“Well now, ye’ve seen me. Who are ye an’ what are ye doin’ on the trail this late in the year?”

‘‘Our names is Johnson, an’ we’re bound to Oregon, if it’s any uv yer business. We’re goin’ to winter at Fort Hall. Now who’se the two behin’ ye thar?”

“Go ahead Jake, speak up,” said Callahan.

“I am Jake Anderson.”

“And my name is Anne Wilkins.”

“Thomas! Hit’s a woman there. Let me see yuh, lass,” shrilled one of the women as she moved forward toward the spot where Anne sat on her mule.

“Kerful, Ronda Mae, yuh don’t know who’se thar!” shouted the fat one, but the

woman was already moving beyond Callahan. Suddenly she shrieked:

“Thomas, thar’s a Injun out here an’ this white woman’s with ’im. The dirty slut’s with a redskin. Git ’em.” Callahan’s calm voice cut through the night like a knife as he brought his rifle to bear on the fat man’s stomach.

“Don’t anyone move unless ye want a meal of lead to finish yer evenin’. Jake, ye and Anne start movin’ back. Ah’ll follow.” He began slowly backing his horse away from the fire all the while keeping the rifle trained on the group by the fire. As he began to fade from sight in the dark, the fat man shouted:

“Yuh cain’t git away. We’ll track yuh. No damn, dirty Injun is goin’ tub keep a white woman. Yuh’ll see.” When he realized he was talking to an empty night, he raises his rifle and fired into the darkness. The shot ed harmlessly over the heads of the three, and there became a bedlam of scurrying figures near the fire.

“C’mon. We’ll git ’em.”

‘‘Yeah. No dam Redskin is goin’ tub have a white woman.”

‘‘There probly thieves anyway.”

“Don’t you go out there,” shrieked one of the women. “There’s more Injuns out there.”

‘‘Wait brother, she might have the right of hit. Let’s wait til mornin’, an we kin git ’em in the daylight.”

“Yeah. Wekin whup any bunch of Injuns an’ a white renegade when it’s daylite,’ and the hubbub began to subside. Callahan smiled to himself as the three walked their mounts quietly out of hearing distance. He would not be overly worried by trash like had just left behind.

For Jake, however, it had been a sobering experience. These were not men like the father he had loved. His mind churned with confusion. How could these people feel the way they did toward him without even knowing him? And Anne. The had condemned her just for being with him. He now realized why Callahan had cautioned him about approaching the white settlers with the girl many days before while they were still in the Valley. The thought now solidified in his mind that he could not risk the prospect of having her end up with such a group. He would wait. Not all white men could be like these people. Surely they would find some like the one’s his father used to describe.

At his side, Anne shook like a leaf as she rode along. What would have happened if she had been left with these people? Just the thought made her feel somehow dirty. Their immediate judgement of her presence with Jake frightened and angered her. How could they know what he was really like? What gave them the right to judge anyone else when they were as low and slimy as she noted? She would never have stayed with anyone as bad as these people if it was her choice. If the subject ever came up again, she would not meekly accept Jake’s decision for being pushed into such a group in the future. She would run away first if that was what she would be forced to do.

As they rode back toward camp, the heard Callahan’s chuckle float back to them on the still night air. He finally said softly:

“Jus think-that scum had the nerve to threaten us. Why, they couldn’t find the way in a garden. ‘Twould be a holy shame to have to kill someone so ignorant.” But Callahan was wrong on one score. They would see more of the “scum” before they got very far.

They had agreed during the ride back that it would be best to bunch the cattle and start them south as early as possible. Just to make sure they could avoid being chased by such a group, as Callahan had said. He was a confident man, but also a cautious one. After all, he had survived in these mountains for many years. Accordingly, dawn found the three packed and moving the cattle out of the box canyon. The cows were anxious to be out of their confinement and resisted being held in a group while they were being driven down the backtrail the three people had used to get to their area. When they had settled down behind a black and white lead cow with one horn who set a brisk pace as if she had done this chore before, Callahan shouted to Jake:

“Keep ’em goin’, lad. Ah’ll just be stayin’ behind to make sure last nights social meetin’ is the last we’ll see of that scum.” He disappeared into the trees along the ridge bordering the trail heading back toward their former camp. He approached their former camp by a roundabout route and reached a point overlooking between two large rocks. His hunch had been right. The four brothers were scattered over the area searching for sign of the three campers. Callahan settled down to watch.

It was clear from the actions of the four brothers that they didn’t know what to do with the information they were getting from the campsite. They wandered this way and that, frequently getting together for loud arguments punctuated by a lot of arm waving. They were loud enough that Callahan could hear a phrase or two from time to time. Most of the discussions seemed to center around how many of the dirty, stinkin’ redskins there were that had been in this camp.

Finally, one of the brothers wandered far enough away from the camp that he

spotted something. He dropped to his knees and felt in the dirt. Satisfied, he rose and shouted to the others loud enough for Callahan to hear.

“Hey, they’s cow tracks over here.”

“Yuh sure ’bout that?”

“Ah’m sure! Ah know cow tracks when Ah see ’em.”

‘‘How many?”

“Lot of ’em, but Ah cain’t tell how many cows.”

“No, yuh idjit. Ah mean Indjuns.”

“Don’t really know. The tracks is all mixed up, but there’s a lot ‘o cows.”

“Well, that’s it. Them Injuns been stealin’ honest folks cows an’ wimmin. We gotta go git ’em.” And the speaker started for his horse. Callahan decided things had gone far enough and calmly aimed his rifle at the speakers horse and shot it. The horse dropped in its tracks with a 54 caliber ball through its backbone.

“Ahh, me aim is still pretty good. Ah’d best be goin’ now.” He mounted and

rode out to Jake and Anne. He was sure that the group would at least be delayed for quite a longtime while they felt forced to avoid attackers. Meanwhile the Johnson brothers appeared to be paralyzed by the sound of the rifle and the sight of the falling horse. They remained frozen until fat Thomas began screaming,

“Hit’s the Injuns. They come back. Run for cover, they done kilt my hoss.” That brought the others to life, and they scrambled for the cover of the trees. Callahan chuckled to himself this time. With all the noise the brothers were making, any Indians in the area were sure to find them. He was sorry that it had been necessary to shoot the horse, but it would serve to delay and maybe discourage this trash bunch with one of them being afoot—and very worried. With the army active along this trail, killing one of the men, particularly the one whose horse he had shot in an area this close to the wagon trail could result in having the cavalry after Callahan. Again he smiled to himself.

It was noon before he caught up with Jake and Anne. They had been able to push the herd nearly five miles, but they were beginning to tire from the unaccustomed work required to drive cattle together and down a trail in one direction. While they were beginning to get the herd to move together, the pace had slowed. When Callahan related the events of the morning, it was decided that they would push on without stopping for the midday meal. It would be better to put as much distance between themselves and the Johnson’s before stopping. In the days that followed they moved the herd southward through the desert, along the mountain divide and along the creeks and west side of the mountain ridge until they reached the Bear River. Even the spring calves in the herd had toughened to the point where long days could be spent on the move. Still, it took them a full 10 days to reach the mouth of Jake’s Bear Valley, and all of them heaved a sigh of relief when the last of the cattle were driven through the fence and the barriers replaced. The chore of playing nursemaid, staying near water and finding forage for a bunch of largely uncooperative cows was not something any of them wished to repeat in the near future.

The homecoming was a joyous one with Star and Little Squirrel fairly bursting with happiness. It had been an uneventful and lonely time for the two women during the nearly three weeks since Jake, Callahan and Anne had left. The two women bustled around preparing food more suited to a feast than a simple meal, caring for the horses, mules and unpacking both of them. It was shinin’ time and Jake appreciated it fully after the depression he had felt after the encounter he had faced with the whites on the trail. He knew that a great more work was needed before winter came, but for now he would enjoy the food and company of these friends around him. Not only that, but more importantly, he was now back on his land—on a safer land.

Chapter 13

Time had slipped quickly past, and the valley was now deep in the autumn season. The time when the aspen showed their colors had past leaving Jake in awe of the beauty they presented. In some cases the brilliant yellows and reds had cascaded down the side of the mountain peaks like multi-colored rivers making their ways through the darker evergreens. On others the colors appeared in bands painted across the faces of the peaks as a giant hand and in stark contrast to the brilliant blue sky. Jake again knew why his father had loved this land so much.

Jake and Callahan hunted and trapped constantly through this period when nature had put on its show of colors. They tested their skill against both the animals and the mountains themselves with their coating of dry tattletale leaves. It was a time for honing skills and savoring the hunt, and it was a time for immersing themselves in the sparkling beauty of crisp air, blue skies and magnificent mountain scenery. Most of all it was a successful time. The snows that occurred were light and soon disappeared as warm autumn winds returned. Jake and Callahan were able to harvest an abundance of elk, deer and antelope. They had even been able to get several bears. The meat had been carefully dried and smoked for the coming winter, and hides cared for, a task that kept the women busy from dawn to dusk. Even so, no one complained. If the winter turned long and cold, they would need all they could get for food and clothes.

The trapping part of their activities had not been as successful as their hunting had. Despite the considerable skill brought to the venture by Callahan, their efforts had produced only a few beaver skins. They had not bothered the small number of beaver that made their home on the upper reaches of their creek on the theory that they should let them increase in numbers before beginning any activity of harvesting. The nearby valleys still had a few, but they too had been severely reduced in numbers during the heyday of trapping. They were a bit

more successful in trapping the foxes that roamed the valley and the otter, mink and rabbits near the stream. In all, and if the spring hunt went well, the combination of skins and hides would provide them with enough to trade at the forts to the north.

A strange thing had happened during the time of the fall hunt. Callahan had shown no signs of leaving. It was true that Star was showing signs of carrying a baby, but that normally would not have stopped her from travelling. The fact that Callahan was not planning to leave had begun to bother Jake. Finally Jake posed the question to Callahan whose reply was:

“Well now lad, I have been thinkin’ about the situation. Ye’ve no doubt noticed that Star will be havin’ a baby soon, and me not bein’ as young as Ah was has been a worry in such a situation. An’ then too, Ah been thinkin’ about the tradin’ of last summer. Ah feel Ah should try me hand at that again, but Ah ain’t got the setup for it yet. You know, maybe get things goin’ and make a home for the son we’ll be havin’. I got to get things ready first.”

“A son? How can you tell that it will be a son already?”

“Ahh, we Callahans are big on boys. Never fear, but if the tradin’ is a success, Ah’ll be building a place to live and sell my goods like in a store down in the Bear river valley. Not to worry, lad, Ah’ll be building far enough down there that yer valley’ll be safe.” Callahan had seen the sudden look of consternation on Jake’s face at the mention of trading in the valley. Jake did not relish the thought of visitors, red or white without knowing who they were. Callahan quickly continued in an effort to sooth Jake.

“Ah have been thinking that a tradin’ post at the spot where the trail comes over the Rabbit Ears by the Bear River would be a good place. It’ll be a spot for the

Injuns, an’ it’s a good days ride from here. That way ye can bring yer horses an’ cows in fer tradin’ an’ Ah kin deep a friend nearby. What do ye say?”

“Callahan, you know that I do not want to be near a place where strangers may be my enemies. Maybe the place you picked will be far enough away, so you can count on me to help if my place is not ed on. If this country is to be settled, it is my hope that it be done by people who are willing to be my brothers.”

“Well now, it sounds like we have a deal. If ye can be puttin’ up with me an’ my family for the winter, Ah’ll be startin’ the dance of tradin’ in the spring.” And the matter was settled.

The cabin had been made tight and the fireplace repaired, thanks to Callahan. The cabin had assumed a most home-like appearance with both Anne and Little Squirrel adding decoration, utensils and crude furniture. Jake paid scant attention to these things. He was satisfied that they had a tight home that would provide a warm place away from winter’s cold winds. Callahan, on the other hand, chose to stay in the tipi, and at times Jake thought with envy of the uncomplicated way of life it provided. However his mind always returned to the advice of his father, and assured himself that the more permanent comforts of the cabin were best.

Winter began in earnest as the days approached their shortest time. In one period of twenty days, snow fell four times leaving an increasing amount of deep snow on the higher elevations. In Bear Valley, however, each period of snow was followed by a couple of days of warmer weather that kept the ground bare, and the cattle had no trouble with forage. It was during this period that Anne broached a new subject dear to her heart as the small group sat near the fireplace after the evening meal.

“Jake, can we celebrate Christmas this year?” she asked directly. “It would be

nice if we could do something like my Maw and Paw used to do.”

“Christmas? What do you mean?” countered Jake.

“Aah, surely ye know what Christmas is, lad,” ventured Callahan.

“Well, my father used to talk about Christmas when he talked to us about his Holy book, but what is this celebration? Are you talking about a feast or dancing for this god? We had no such things in my father’s home.”

“Jake, it is not this god. It is the only God, and the celebration honors the birthday of his Son. Each year at this time we honor his birth with the giving of gifts to each other and have a special get-together. Little Squirrel and me have talked about it and we think it would be a good thing to do.”

“Aye, lad, ‘tis a fine thing and one me mother used to insist on. What with goin’ to church and the eatin’ an’ presents, it was truly a wonderful time. It would make my heart glad to be doin’ this,” Callahan added.

“I do not know what you want. I have not done this thing, but if it pleases you, we can try. When do we do it, tomorrow?” asked Jake with increasing confusion.

“No, no. It’s December 25, and I’ll show everyone what to do,” exclaimed an excited Anne. “It will be 24 days from today. I’ve been keeping a calendar since Mom died.” The group broke into excited chatter with Anne and Callahan exchanging notes about Christmas’s past and translating to the two Indian

women. Jake sat back, watched and listened. He could not understand having a feast in the middle of the winter, particularly when no victory had been won by warriors, but the excitement and anticipation of the others was enough to convince him that no harm would be done.

In the ensuing days Jake had scant time to think about the coming feast. The weather had turned sharply colder and brief snows were frequent, causing the grass to be covered. He began following the previous year’s method of dragging a log behind a team of mules to clear the snow from the grass along the creek, and driving the cattle to the shelter of the log fence. In a short time the animals became accustomed to the procedure, and submitted easily to it. Callahan ed in the activities and constantly made suggestions to improve the overall work. His help in developing a four-horse sledge and rotating the areas of clearing forage were of great benefit to the work. His advice about care of the weak and sore-footed cattle taught Jake valuable lessons for the future, In all, both men worked hard to conserve the small supply of hay Jake had amassed.

In the brief periods when Jake was neither working nor asleep, Anne taught him what she could about the coming Christmas. The matter of giving gifts troubled Jake a great deal. He had his weapons, his tools and the land in this valley, but what could he give these people. He had no fine clothes or jewels, or hats to give. Never in his life had he been faced with the question of what gifts to give. His Indian heritage rather carefully spelled out what to give for theft, murder, adultery, marriage, defeat and other occurrences, but a gift for the birth of a god he didn’t know and was a strange thing. He would need to ask Anne.

As the day of the feast approached, Jake’s bewilderment increased. There were numerous whispered conferences between Anne and the other women. They would invariable start with whispers and gestures that gaveway to giggles and abrupt silences when he drew near. What great secrets were being exchanged about this feast? His mind questioned these things, but his body was too tired to permit spending much time on them. Each day brought on the necessity to continue caring for these cattle that were unable to fend for themselves. On the

other hand, the horses were doing fine, except for water. The cold weather had made it necessary to breakup the ice in the stream. In all, things were fine, however, despite the amount of work Jake was responsible to do.

When Jake asked how much longer it would be until the feast, he was answered by Anne.

“Why, on December 25th of course. Don’t you know it always on that day?”

“December? What is that?”

‘‘December is the month of winter. Like a-a-a time of the moon, only it’s when winter is here.”

“Aah. Yes. You mean the moon when the wind grandfather blows cold and snow and ice come. How many suns must we see before the day of the feast comes now.”

“Well, it’s three more days until the time comes. We will give our gifts in the morning, and then have a big meal at noon. Maybe we can sing carols and enjoy the day.”

“This day means much to you, yes?”

“Oh yes. It was the most special day in the year when Maw and Paw were alive,

but it didn’t mean much when Maw married Adam. I would like this to be a special day for all of us. Can we?” she said plaintively.

“It will be so,” Jake responded briefly. He must decide what to do about gifts. He was not sure what was expected, but as the owner of this land, his Indian background dictated generosity. He would need to share his wealth. He left the cabin and mounted his horse to make his weary rounds of the cattle and horses. As he rode in the cold air his mind went over again the things he could give. Finally, his mind settled on things he thought would be important. They would have to do he decided.

Christmas morning dawned gray and very cold. The low, gray clouds promised snow later in the day and the biting cold caused the cattle to be reluctant to move. Jake had been up since an hour before dawn to finish moving the cattle down to spots where forage could be reached even though it was not an easy task for them. As he did so, he singled out a small bull from the herd and slowly moved close to its side. When his horse was along side and the bull turned its head toward him, Jake leaned over and dropped the looped end of his short rawhide rope over its head. Bracing himself for a tugging battle, he hung desperately to the saddle and leaned to the other side. As expected the bull resisted being led away from the herd. Alternately, he tried to bolt away from the horse and tried to charge them. The battle went on for long minutes. In exasperation Jake considered shooting the animal, but then he would have to find a way to get it back to the cabin. Finally, the now panting bull gave in and reluctantly agreed to follow the horse. Jake led it to the tipi of Callahan and tied it to a nearby stump. He then rode to the entrance of the tipi and said:

“Haugh, Callahan, I have come with your gift as the white woman has said. Will you sleep all the day?” Callahan emerged from the tipi stretching his robe around him to ward off the cold. Star peered from the partially open tipi flap.

“What is it lad? What are ye sayin”?”

“I have brought the gift the white woman speaks of. You will have fresh meat in your tipi, and your woman may get strength for the son that is coming from the blood of this white man bull.”

‘‘Well lad, it’s truly a fine gift, but ye musn’t be givin’ away yer cattle.”

“There are other bulls, friend, and this one cannot have a calf. I am honored as your friend, and this gift must be given. It is done.”

‘‘Well then, we will share the meat. We can both be eatin’ this animal.”

‘‘No, Callahan, I like not the meat of these foolish things, but if you wish, give some to the white woman. It is weak food,” and he turned back and rode up the valley. When he reached the horse herd, he greeted Red Eagle, and slowly worked his way through the herd. Finally, he moved to what he was looking for. It was a young bay mare whose thick winter coat hid a well muscled body with straight, well formed legs. She had an alert manner, distinct intelligence and definite learning potential that Jake had noticed in the past. She would not only bear good colts, but she could be easily trained. Red Eagle had matched his pace and carefully stayed between him and the mares while blocking his way. Now, Jake dismounted and moved to the stallion. Carefully grasping his nose, he began rubbing his neck and shoulders all the while making soft, comforting noises. Gradually, the stallion relaxed and responded, pushing at Jake with his nose and shoulders and gently nipping at his head and shoulders. His confidence stored, Red Eagle submitted to being pushed to the side.

Jake moved to the mare and slipped a hache more on her while she moved nervously. When he began to lead the mare away, Red Eagle again moved to

stop him, but a soft command from Jake brought back memories of earlier training, and he stopped to watch. Satisfied that no harm was intended, the stallion moved back to the other mares and ignored Jake.

Mounting and leading the mare, Jake rode back to the cabin. Once there, he tied both horses to a tree, and went into the cabin. Both Anne and Little Squirrel were busy preparing food for the noon meal. Anne had Little Squirrel scurrying from one task to the other. When Jake called the white girl and asked her to come with him, she was startled and said:

“What is it, Jake? Is it something wrong?”

‘‘No, come!” The abruptness of his answer did nothing to reassure her, but she followed him outside. Approaching the horses, Jake pointed to the mare and said:

‘‘There is your gift. You may do as you want with her.” Caught by surprise, her voice fairly squeaked with excitement:

“Oh Jake, she’s beautiful. Is she really mine? To keep? She is mine for keeps?”

“She is yours.” Anne fairly bounded to the horse and threw her arms around it with her neck babbling wildly. Now it was the horse’s turn to be startled. It reared to full height on its hind legs carrying the girl with it. By the time Jake got the horse quieted down, the girl was shaken but undaunted. She babbled on.

‘‘Oh Jake, she’s wonderful. I’ll care for her. I’ll train and feed her and-and— you’ll see. Oh thank you.”

“I think you both need to learn some things, but it’s your task,” muttered a solemn Jake.

“Can I keep her here just a little longer?” begged Anne. I just want to look at her and touch her a little bit.”

‘‘Do as you want. I told you she was yours,” replied Jake, and he turned and went back to the cabin. Once there, he rummaged among his belongings in one corner and emerged with a bright red blanket, some blue flannel cloth, a pack of beads and some needles and thread. These he took to Little Squirrel and said in Ute:

‘‘Here are gifts as the white woman has said. Now it is done.” Little Squirrel accepted the gifts meekly and began to speak of her appreciation. An embarrassed Jake cut her off with ‘‘It is nothing,” and turned and left the cabin. As he walked to his horse and mounted, he felt a sense of relief. He had followed the custom of the white woman and he no longer needed to worry about such things. He rode back to the cattle to finish the day’s chores. He would need to chop more ice away from the watering spots and check to make sure that all of the cows had reached forage. In those cases where some of them had been crowded out, he would have to drive them to food.

When Jake finally returned to the cabin, he was greeted by the other four people who had already gathered inside. The room had been decorated with bits of cloth and evergreen branches, and food was everywhere—cookies, cakes, roasted meat, bread, dried apple pies and a number of unidentified dishes. Truly a feast had been prepared. Callahan stood with a jug in one hand and a bright, beaming

face, and shouted:

“Merry Christmas, friend Jake.” Apparently he had already sampled the contents of the jug, and Jake’s face tightened. He had already vowed that there would be no whiskey in his house. His father’s words on the subject and his own observations of the dreaded effect of the drinking on the Indians he had known had made a lasting impression, but he avoided making an issue of the matter. He would give deference to the importance placed on this day by the two whites. He did definitely decide that he would discuss the matter with Callahan and certainly Anne at another time.

Jake knew he was expected to say something, but what? Try as he might, he could not what his father had told him about this feast. Finally, in desperation, he forced a smile and said:

“It is good. You have done well. The feast will be welcome. You have made my heart glad.” Anne reached out and gripped his arm tightly, saying:

“I’m so glad you like it, Jake. It’s so important, and thank you.” After that the group broke out into laughter and talk, much of which centered on the food and why it was prepared. Here Callahan dominated the conversation, and at one point, Anne asked him to read the Christmas story from her mother’s Bible. Accented in the man’s Irish brogue, Callahan readily complied with all the flair of a born showman. For Jake it was a story by a man named Luke and about a man and his wife travelling with a mule and having to stop at a barn while the woman gave birth to a son. He was not quite sure why such a fuss was made over giving birth in a barn. After all, Indian women gave birth under much less favorable conditions than a barn. The story did remind him of one he had heard from an old Apache that lived with the Utes, and it brought back memories of the tales told by his mother and father about their flight from the Wind River mountains with his brother and mules. So in all, he liked the story.

The day went pleasantly, but as the shadows lengthened, Jake knew he must make his final round of the horses and cattle. He also knew he would not get much help from Callahan. The Irishman had sampled the whiskey jug to the point where he now sat in the corner near the fire dozing after having sung a number of his native songs. Reluctantly, Jake donned his wolfskin coat and rode out to check the cattle. It was bitterly cold, and both he and the horse felt the wind’s numbing breath. He moved quickly and found both herds in the shelter of the trees a short distance above the cabin. They were standing hump backed away from the wind, and he decided that they were as well off here as behind his log fence. He would not try to move them. When he circled around their downwind side, he stopped suddenly when he discovered tracks along the edge of the trees. Coyotes. It looked like three, maybe four had been there. He followed them until they retreated back into the trees. He would investigate further on the following day when he had the benefit of full light. They should not be a problem for any of the full-grown cattle or horses, but some of the weaker calves and colts could be endangered. No use taking a chance.

Back at the cabin, he stoked up the fire to drive away the chill he had gotten during the ride. Callahan had gone back to his tipi to sleep off the effects of the whisky after leaving gifts for everyone. He had given cloth to both Anne and Little Squirrel for dresses, and for Anne there was a pair of moccasins from Star. For Jake there was a broad-brimmed hat and flannel shirt “for the next visit to the whites”. Now Anne and Little Squirrel brought their gifts. The Indian woman had made him a beautifully decorated set of buckskins with matching knee length mocassins. The intricate decorations with beads and quills demonstrated a rare skill on the part of Little Squirrel. Once again, she tried hard to express her thanks for the care and protection she had received, but when words failed her, she retreated to the far corner of the cabin.

Anne’s gift came last, and as she gave to Jake, she said:

“I hope you like it. It’s not much but there was no chance to get anything else. I

wanted to do so much. You don’t know what it has meant to have a place to live where I feel safe and I can plan for the future. This is the first place that has felt like home since Maw and Paw and me left to come west. I do so want to stay in this place. Thanks Jake. Now open your present.” It was a beautifully made coat, cut from a bright red and blue blanket obtained from Callahan’s remaining stock. The coat was cut long and split back and front to permit coverage while riding. Jake was very pleased, and his pleasure showed which in turn made Anne happy. It had, indeed, been a good day for all.

Chapter 14

The days that followed continued very cold with periodic snow. Jake worked from dawn until dusk to keep the horses and cattle fed and watered. At the end of some days he would fall asleep before finishing the evening meal. He was finally forced to dig into his small supply of hay. He fed it out sparingly in an effort to make it last until the snow disappeared. His efforts were rewarded when the weather turned warm the twentieth day after Christmas in one of the frequent changes of the mountains. Within a day, the open spaces in the valley were free of snow, and forage again became available. Jake knew they would have more snow before this winter was over, but for now they would enjoy the respite.

The makers of the tracks Jake had found on Christmas made themselves known three days after making their first tracks. When Jake emerged form the cabin to start his morning chores, he was confronted by the sight of a female coyote and her three pups sitting not more than 50 yards from the door, watching. They were obviously hungry, showing the difficulty of catching small animals for food during the period of cold and snow. Their hunger had overcome their fear of man, and had brought them scavenging around the cabin. Anne had been watching from the doorway as Jake prepared to leave, and when he turned to get his rifle, she begged softly:

“Oh please, Jake, let them stay. They’re just young ones. I’ll see that they don’t do anything wrong.” Despite the fact that Jake was aware that coyotes were special to Indians from the standpoint of ancestry, he was worried about his herds, and said:

“I don’t know. If they get hungry enough and strong enough to overcome the cattle, they might go after the calves, and I don’t want to lose any.”

“But they haven’t gone after them, so they must not be strong enough to force the cattle away. I’ll watch out for them. Just let me try,” begged Anne. Little Squirrel added to Anne’s pleas with,

“It is good. Coyote has much wisdom. It is a good sign that they are coming to us.” Jake finally had to say:

“Well, alright, but if they get in trouble with the cattle or horses, I’ll have to get rid of them.” As Jake left, Anne went back into the house and gathered up all the food scraps she could find and took them out to the coyotes. As she approached them, the female warily moved back into the trees taking her pups with her. No matter how hard the girl tried, she could not get close. Finally, she put the food down where they had first seen the coyotes and went back into the cabin. Later in the day she checked the spot and found the food was gone. How or when the little family had gathered the food she didn’t know, but she felt that a good start had been made at making friends with them.

The other event of the winter that would change Jake’s life forever came nearly two weeks after the arrival of the four footed visitors, and again it happened dawn. Jake left the cabin to begin the morning chores and after saddling and mounting, he headed down valley to check on any of the cattle that might have wandered to the entrance of the valley. As he rode, he noticed that the sky to the west was covered with heavy, dark clouds and the wind was increasing. He decided he would need to gather the horses and cattle near the cabin in preparation for the coming storm after the long warm spell. For now, however, he would enjoy the morning, and he smiled at the sight of two magpies and a crow fighting over the remains of a rabbit. As he rounded the trees halfway down the valley, he suddenly stopped. His eyes had caught movement near the valley entrance, and he slowly backed his horse into the cover of the trees.

From his vantage point in the trees Jake studied the area near the entrance carefully. He was able to pick out five horses with three riders and one person dismounted. The movements of the party were slow and sluggish, as if they had traveled long and hard. Maybe they had been travelling during the earlier time when the snow and cold worn them down. As he watched, Jake finally decided they were Indians, and not all braves by the ways they moved, their horses and their manners. He would wait before riding to the cabin for help with these people.

When all of the group were again mounted, and they began moving up the valley toward Jake, he was able to that the group was Indians consisting of two women, a child and a man—no, two children. One was still being carried on the back of one of the women. Jake waited patiently as a coyote.

As the group came abreast of the spot where Jake sat, he saw that the group’s robes and clothing were thin and ragged. Certainly not suited to this cold mountain area. The horses were lean and worn from hard use and little food, and the riders carried very little equipment. The one packhorse was lightly loaded. The riders rode slumped in the saddle and swayed with the movement. As they rode nearer, the man in the lead raised his head to look around, and Jake’s heart leaped. He almost spurred his horse forward to meet them. He resisted the urge immediately knowing that if he surprised them, he might be shot for such a move, but he was sure that the lead rider was his brother— Little Bear. Instead, he pursed his lips, and gave out the cry of a hunting eagle.

Little Bear jerked erect in the saddle and looked in all directions while he fumbled with his rifle. Jake sent the eagle cry winging his way a second time, and was rewarded by seeing his brother visibly relaxing and speaking to the others in the group. Now, Jake rode out at a gallop and shouted:

‘‘Haugh, my brother, my eyes are gladdened by your sight and my heart is full of happiness.”

“I too, welcome your sight, White Bear. It has been many seasons since we talked last, and now I must also ask your help.”

‘‘How did you come here, Little Bear? It is a long way from the land of the Cheyenne, and you did not know of this place.”

“We talked with some of the Utes from Gray Hawk’s camp. They told us of this place. I am sorry, White Bear, but we have trouble behind us, and I did not know where else to go.”

“Trouble? What trouble is this? We will eat and talk, and then we can hear of this trouble. Come,”replied Jake as he led the small party toward the cabin. While Jake and Little Bear chattered on about many things, the two women were both shy and nervous. It was clear that they were unsure of the reception they would get and worried about it. The young boy perched on the fourth horse, on the other hand, was curious about everything and readily followed the two brothers.

Callahan was waiting at the cabin with rifle ready when Jake and the others rode up. Anne, Star and Little Squirrel were peering anxiously from the doorway, and Jake shouted.

“Look who has come. This if my brother, the son of my mother. We must make them welcome. Bring food and drink for these travelers.”

“We have traveled far and long. Can we also have water for washing as our father taught us before we go into the house?” asked Little Bear.

“It shall be so. Take your family to the cabin. I will see to the horses,” answered Jake.

“Keep them tied close. We may need to go quickly,” said Little Bear.

“Do not fear, they will be safe in this valley,” Jake assured him as he thought about how they had been in their defense against the Crows.

By now, Anne and the other two women had entered into the welcome, and things were taken out of Jake’s hands. They were helping the two women with the horses, belongings and children, and the men were not needed. Hot water was brought and bits and pieces of clothing provided to replace the travel worn garments of Little Bear’s family. Firmly insisting that they make use of the cabin for washing and donning their change in clothes, Anne fairly pushed them inside. Returning to where Jake was caring for the horses, she excitedly began a rapid string of questions.

‘‘Where did they come from? How could they travel in the winter? Why are they here? Will they stay? How long?”

“I do not know the answer to these things. We will hear what Little Bear has to say, but for now you must be like the coyote, listen, wait.” Slightly chastened, Anne fell silent for a few minutes during which muffled exclamations and high pitched gasps could be heard. Apparently, Little Bear’s family did not share his enthusiasm for the efforts at cleanliness he was imposing. Jake smiled ruefully at the thought that his older brother felt it was necessary to impress him with the ways of their father. Jake felt that he must somehow show that his hospitality did not depend on adherence to his father’s teaching, but he also realized that Little

Bear was also showing respect for a father they had both loved.

Little Bear and his family emerged from the cabin with a new look and attitude. The combination of bits of clothing would have been funny, if it had been under other circumstances. The confidence that had been regained, however, more than made up for their outward appearance. Anne led the other two women into the cabin and a frenzy of activity began to prepare food. The hunger of the visitors was plainly seen.

During the short interval while the food was being heated, Little Bear explained what had happened.

“We were traveling to the land of settling after our season of hunting during the moon of first snow to spend our winter with Badger and his people. There were four families with mine, and we had our women and children. We came from the land of the Black Hills and the sacred Butte. When we reached the wagon road that the goes to the fort that whites call Laramie,we met a lot of wagons with settlers that were hurrying to get to the fort before winter. We stopped to meet the leaders of these white men and asked for tobacco and powder and lead for our rifles, but one of the women began screaming that we were murdering thieves and would kill them all. When this white woman began screaming, one of their men shot at us and struck Walks At Night who fell by the wagons. We rode away because there were too many of them, but we stopped on a hill to watch because they did not follow us. As they drove by with their wagons, the women threw things on Walks At Night. He was not yet dead,” and he paused with his head down.

“Walks At Night was the husband of White Calf, the sister of my wife who is with us,” continued Little Bear.” I knew that I must do something, and I rode back to get Walks At Night, but all the whites shot at me and they killed my horse. I had to run back to the rest of my people, and we could only watch until they past. But—then one of the white men dressed like an Indian, one they call a

scout, rode to Walks At Night and shot him again, and we began to sing the death song.”

‘‘Finally, when the wagons were all gone we buried Walks At Night. That night, the three of us that were left went to where the wagons were, and went quietly to where they slept like a wolf. We killed the scout with our knives, and then we killed the two who guarded the horses and drove all the horses away. They were fine horses and they were good payment for Walks At Night. Then White Calf was satisfied.”

“We drove the horses to the south many miles until we came to the river the white men call the Sweetwater where we ed our small group of Cheyenne friends. But the white soldiers came after us, and they would not stop. They found us near the mountains of the Medicine Bow early one morning. We had camped near the river, and as our father had taught us to do, I camped in the trees away from the fire. The others camped near the water. When the soldiers came they had Crows to help them find us and they killed all the others we were with—men, wives and children while they slept. When I heard the shooting, I sent the two women with the children into the mountains, and I went to the fighting and shot one the Crows. But I could not fight them all, and I ran into the mountains after the women. The soldiers got off their horses and followed us, but we hid in the trees and they did not find us.”

‘‘When darkness came,we crossed over the mountains without horses to the valley of the Utes. It was very hard, and in some places the snow was already deep. The women suffered much and when we reached the valley of the Utes, we traveled to the south while it was very cold. We found Gray Hawk’s camp and they gave us food and horses, but they told we could not stay. The soldiers had gone around the mountains to the river called Platte. They came to Gray Hawk’s camp searching for us and the Crows were with them. They told Gray Hawk that were very angry, and that we must be given to them to suffer the white man’s punishment for killing the wagon men. They did not speak of Walks At Night and the Cheyenne they had killed by the mountains of the Medicine Bow. Gray

Hawk told us the soldiers had promised to return with their Crow hunting dogs in five days. He also told us that we should go west over the mountains where Rabbit Ears stand and then travel up the Bear River until we came to this valley where we would find you, White Bear. When we left the camp of Gray Hawk it was very cold and there was much snow.”

“We had much trouble reaching the top of the mountains near the Rabbit Ears. It is good that we hunted there with our father or I would not have found the way. Many times we had to walk before the horses to make a way through the deep snow. Our moccasins were worn thin. As I stood at the top of the mountains and looked back into the valley of the Ute, I could see many soldiers looking for our trail, and I prayed that Manito would give more snow to cover our tracks.”

‘‘When we reached the valley of the Bear River, the travel was easier, but our horses were very tired and hungry. It has taken us three suns the reach this place. Now I think we must leave this place soon, before the soldiers come and cause trouble for you.”

‘‘No my brother,” said Jake. “You will stay as long as it pleases you. I do not think the white man will come through so much snow, and it would be difficult to find this valley without help. Tonight I will ride back down the Bear Valley to see if anyone followed you. We will see.”

“Ah brother, it is dangerous. We all know a storm is coming, but you must be even more careful because you cannot underestimate the white men. They have strong horses and much food. They are not afraid of the snow. They followed us by going around the mountains when there was much snow.”

‘‘Even so, I will go. I know this country well, and they will not see me.” Jake could not be persuaded to change his mind by the arguments of either Little Bear

or Callahan. He immediately began preparing to ride out. Callahan tried once more.

“Lad, Ah’ll be gonin’ with yeo. Ye’ll be need’n the help, what with the storm moving this way and all.”

‘‘No, Callahan. You are needed here to care for the cattle and horses. I must ask your help in this work. It will be more important with the storm coming. Besides, I am only going to look, and I will take two horses in case the snow is deep.”

“Be careful, Jake. There’s a lot of folks here that’ll be dependin’ an ye.”

Jake selected two of the bigger, stronger horses for the trip, a big paint gelding and a bay mare. Both of them were deep chested with straight, muscled legs and heavy haunches. They were not the fastest horses in the herd, but their staying power on the trail far outweighed the lack of speed. Shortly after mid-day, Jake rode out with a light pack on the mare and more weapons on her than a single traveler usually carried.

Anne had not been happy with Jake’s decision. Her concern for his safety and her own future if he failed to return weighed heavily on her mind. She went through the motions of helping him prepare food and equipment for the trip woodenly. This stiffness of her back and the monosyllable replies given to his questions told him only too clearly that she disapproved of his action. Finally, she said:

“Jake, must you go?”

“Yes. We will not sleep well again if I do not know where the soldiers are. If they come to this valley, I don’t know what we can do. I do not want to fight the white soldiers, but they must not be permitted to harm my blood brother and the rest of us.

‘‘But Jake it is dangerous and what will I do if you don’t come back?” asked Anne.

‘‘There is Callahan and also my brother here. Besides, I am coming back.” The girl was not convinced, but she knew it would do no good to argue further. Jake left the cabin at a lope with some of the other horses following out of curiosity. He knew he must get as far down the Bear River as possible in case snow came tonight. He could not afford to leave telltale tracks in fresh snow leading to the valley.

Little Bear had said nothing during his brother’s preparations. He knew the wisdom of his brother’s decision. His days with the Cheyennes coupled with his father’s teaching had shown him the necessity of having good information about the enemy. Too many fights on the open plains had been lost because of a lack of knowledge about the location and intentions of white and red adversaries alike. He was also aware that there was nothing he could do to help. After the ordeal of getting to the valley, he would be more of a burden than any help. He had merely gripped his brother’s shoulder and looked deeply in his eyes. The unspoken message that ed between them made expressions of encouragement and appreciation unnecessary. He would stay and pray for Jake’s return, and take care of the women and children in his absence.

Chapter 15

Jake pushed hard, and by nightfall he was nearly ten miles downstream on the Bear River. The early winter darkness of these mountains was enhanced by a light snowfall that had begun an hour earlier. He moved up on the slopes bordering the river valley as he looked for a place to camp for the night and finally found a spot in the shelter of a rock overhang that was surrounded by willows and aspen. He did not make a fire. He would need to know where the soldiers were before building a fire. Instead he tethered the horses in the trees where they could forage on the smaller branches and rolled into his buffalo robe after a cold meal. He would put more small branches for the horses in the morning.

At dawn Jake awoke to the feeling of being held in bonds only to find that when he poked his nose out of the robe that he was covered by a blanket of several inches of snow. He shivered at the thought of venturing outside the warmth of the sleeping spot, but knew it must be done. Steeling himself, he thrust aside the snow coving the robe and got up to begin the day. At the first sign of movement, the horses whickered plaintively and tried to move. They were facing both of the problems—no food and deep snow. The ropes that held them confined worried both animals as the snow continued to fall and shrink their world.

Jake took a bit of time to cut branches and feed the horses, eat a cold breakfast and then go back on the trail. It left Jake riding northward in search of a sign of the white soldiers. The snow continued in waves through out the day with heavier amounts interspersed with periods of flurries. The accumulation on the ground built to almost six inches by mid-afternoon. At that point he had traveled over 15 miles despite the snow, and had reached a point within a mile or two of the place where the trail across the Rabbit Ears lay. The horses were beginning to show signs of tiring badly from the hard travel, and he knew he had to find shelter. If the wind came up, as it was almost sure to do, the broad valley

through which he now moved would turn into a white nightmare as blowing snow completely masked all sight, and numbed the senses.

He decided to turn westward toward a prominent mountain laying parallel to the west of the river where it still moved northward before it made its turn to the west. It was five miles distant and he had to kick the horses into a trot to try to reach its sheltering sides while he still had daylight. They responded as he had known they would when he selected them the previous day. Within an hour they had kicked their way through the snow, and he was searching for a campsite on the mountain’s eastern flank. He finally found a spot well sheltered by tall evergreens and flanked by aspen trees. There were also a few spots with open, brown grass instead of deep snow. Tying the horses in the aspen where they could find a bit of the grass, he quickly began cutting evergreen boughs and building a crude barrier between the thick growth of tall pines to protect against the wind and snow. Meanwhile, the horses gratefully began eating the grass and occasionally stripping all of the smaller branches and bark from every tree they could reach. They had worked hard that day, and needed a good feed.

When Jake had a crude windbreak with enough overhanging branches to provide a sort of roof once they were covered with snow, he slowed down his activity a bit. He had decided he would risk a fire tonight. With the snow falling as it was, he doubted any of the soldiers who might be around would see it. Besides, he had selected this location for the reason that it was not widely visible.

In the remaining daylight he gathered both dry wood and armfuls of small branches for the horses. At dark he brought the horses in to the fire and gave each one a small bundle of branches. He was now ready for the night. While he cooked a meal of mush and boiled jerky, he noticed that the horses seemed grateful for the meager warmth of the fire and the company of the man. It was as if they knew that the storm had more hardship in store. Finishing his meal, Jake banked the fire and went quickly to his robes, both for the warmth that awaited him and the fact that the day’s labors had tired him more than the feverish activity of getting the camp ready would have indicated.

As he lay in the robe waiting for the warmth to buildup and sleep to come, he thought about his situation. His choice of this area for his camp had not been made by chance. He could easily have found a spot in the mountains near the of the Rabbit Ears, but if there were any soldiers in the area, they would quite likely camp near the same place. From his vantage point on this solitary ridge of mountains, he could view both the broad valley and the trail to the RabbitEars . Also he was not on a west facing slope where he would be more exposed to wind and snow.

Jake’s next thoughts came in the middle of the night when he was awakened by the sighing of the wind through the tops of the trees. Both falling snow and blowing snow whirled around Jake’s small shelter. The horses had crowded closer to the barrier to escape the bone chilling wind and now stamped nervously near the robe where Jake lay. Reluctantly, he rose from the robes and went to stokeup the fire. The gelding horse nudged him with his nose to make sure he knew they were there. With the fire going again, Jake popped back into the robe. Within minutes he was asleep again.

When Jake awoke in the morning the wind was much stronger and, drifts of snow were piling up all around the shelter. A pale light filtered through the blowing snow and trees, and when Jake went to look out over the valley, it had disappeared in a white blanket. Everything had been obliterated by swirling white snow and the visibility had been reduced to a few feet. Only in the sanctuary of the trees and the shelter Jake had built was the wind stilled. Overhead at the level of the treetops, the wind was a constant, roaring force. There would be no travel by anyone until the blizzard ed on to the east.

After his morning meal, Jake occupied his time with cutting more wood for the fire, branches for the horses and scrapping of nearby area where grass might be. Later, he melted enough snow to give the horses a drink. He also spent a little time packing snow around his barrier of brush to cut down on more of the wind, but overall it was a slow day. He went to his robes early, and each time he awoke

during the night, the wind roared on. When he awoke finally in the morning, it was much the same as the previous day.

By mid-day, the wind began to die down and the valley below Jake began to appear again. It was a world of whiteness as far as the eye could see with the mountains a stark wall to the east. The only relief was the shadows on the snow drifts that stretched to the horizon like ripples on sand dunes. If the clearing of the skies continued, Jake knew it would be very, very cold during the coming night, and Jake decided to stay where he was for another night. In preparation he gathered more wood than on the previous nights and made sure the horses had a good feed and access to the area of the fire.

Apparently, the white soldiers did not enjoy the same knowledge of the land and its weather as Jake had. Late in the afternoon as the shadows on the snow and mountains turned pink and purple, he saw a black line of men and horses making their way through the snow along the trail down from the mountaintop where the Rabbit Ears lay. As he watched, he could see the horses struggling and fighting to make their way through the drifts. Some staggered and fell, and progress of the entire line was slow. They would not make it to the valley below the mountains to the east of Jake today. If they were lucky, they would find shelter in the trees along the river, but that was a way to go yet.. Why had they not stayed in camp another day? Why did the fool who led them insist that they stay in two lines of two men? Surely they must know that the fat, grain fed horses favored by the soldiers could not long withstand the punishment being given them in this travel. Ah well, they would have to learn as everyone who entered this country did.

Jake continued to watch the struggling column of men and horses until the light failed. Actually, they would make it to the trees by the river, but it would be a very tired group that made camp. Jake busied himself with the camp chores, but unfortunately there would be no fire tonight. In the clear, cold mountain air a fire would be visible to searching eyes for many miles. Jake would avoid giving even the slightest indication that there were any other humans in the area.

As Jake had expected, it was a very cold night. Despite all of his efforts to provide protection, the cold kept seeping into his robe, and he was forced to huddle into a curled ball to try to conserve the warmth of his body. The horses also huddled together behind the barrier to conserve the small amount of comfort to be gained from each other. Throughout the night Jake’s discomfort had been heightened by the sight of the white man’s fires in the distance. The fires were continually fed throughout the night, and the flames that reached many feet into the air could be seen for many miles. Jake sighed and pulled his robe tighter around his chilled body.

In the morning Jake watched as the soldiers prepared for their days march. Their motions were slow and their departure delayed until nearly mid-morning. The men moved sluggishly, indicating an unsatisfactory night of rest. Apparently, even the fires had been unable to overcome the deficiencies of the equipment of the soldiers. The slowness of the departure and the subsequent march convince Jake that the column might reach the beginning of the trail up and over the mountains where he was, but not much more today. He could not remain in this spot much longer. Another storm such as the one that had just past would strand him for a long time. He also could not remain in this spot much longer particularly if the white soldiers continued to move toward where he was hidden. Another such storm as the one that had just past would strand him for a long time. He could not survive an extended period of that sort. He finally decided that he would stay until nightfall and satisfy himself that the soldiers were either continuing toward him or, indeed, taking the trail back over the Rabbit Ears mountains. Whichever happened, he would then leave under the cover of the night. The day had dawned clear and bright, and any movement against the white background of the snow could be detected easily. At night, however, the guards would be less alert, deadened by the cold and the fatigue of today’s travel, and while the quarter moon would help him in traveling back, it would not be enough to reveal him to the white’s.

As he watched the soldiers, however, by shortly before noon, he was satisfied. They had tried very hard to tramp through the snow and finally given up. In total

frustration they had turned and headed back toward the trail to the over the Rabbit Ears mountains. In several hours the soldiers had reached the base of the long slope leading southward up the mountains toward the . They were now faced with a 13 mile climb through the deep snow they had stomped through the day before. The glare of the bright sunlight on the totally white world they moved through on this western facing slope contributed more to the problems faced by the white men than at other times. Their eyes really had problems. Even from his protected east facing position, Jake was forced to shade eyes while looking out over the separating valley. He was even more convinced that his decision to travel that night was the right one. He spent the remainder of the day getting everything ready for the trip.

By nightfall the column of soldiers had made a scant three miles up the trail. Appearing as a long line of dots in the white background, they moved in a series of starts and stops. It was obvious that they could only move after part of the group stamped a trail through the snow for the horses and men. When the trail makers could no longer continue the brutal work, they were replaced by another group. There was no question that they were committed to the trail over the mountain. Whether they made it over the mountain or not was not settled, but it was enough for Jake. He mounted and rode out into the valley.

He guided for gelding along the ridges where the strong winds had swept the majority of the snow clear. It was necessary to increase the distance traveled by moving first one direction and then another along the ridges. But in the long run, the horses’ strength was conserved by avoiding a direct attack on the deeper drifts. Near midnight with the moon now high in the sky, he changed horses to avoid tiring the gelding too much. By dawn his circuitous path had taken him only ten miles up the Bear Valley and both horses were showing signs of the effects of the hard trip. The distance, however, was enough to put him well into the valley of the reaches of the Bear River, and out of sight of the soldiers. He would stop to rest the horses before going on.

Tethering both horses in the trees, he moved quickly to gather branches and bark

and then rolled into his robe. The sun was shining brightly, and the extra heat provided by it permitted Jake to quickly fall asleep. His body responded gratefully to the period of renewal being provided. He would be readyto travel again in a matter of hours.

Jake awoke four hours later to the nervous stamping of the horses. They had eaten everything they could reach, and were impatient to be given more. Packing quickly, Jake mounted and set out again. His sense of urgency heightened by the fact that a thin milky layer of clouds tended to place veil over the sun. It was a sure sign that more and thicker clouds would follow. More snow would likely follow. His concern was also heightened by the fact that here where the valley was narrower and the peaks closer, the snow was deeper and the going tougher. The horses tired quickly and the day ended quickly when the sun dropped behind the mountains. He had made a scant five miles, but he would have to stop for the night. He could not continue to push the horses without paying a penalty the following day. A full day of travel would be needed to reach his valley in this snow. Again he made camp.

By morning, the clouds had thickened and he could see light snowfalling on the higher slopes. Eating a hurried, cold meal, he got the horses moving as quickly as possible, and now he started pushing them harder than on the previous two days. The snow was still deep here, but both horses lived up to his expectations. If he could reach the point where the valley broadened again, the going would be a bit easier. At mid-day he had covered half of the remaining distance to the valley, but now snow was falling at the level where he rode. The wind had picked up in the broader valley, and the horses were beginning to tire. His mind began to wander a little, numbed by the cold and mesmerized by the large fluffy flakes that danced in front of his eyes. He was forced to bring himself back to the small world filled with swirling white feathery flakes that encased him and the horses.

The afternoon wore on and the snowfall increased. Both horses stumbled frequently, and Jake could no longer be sure where he was. He stopped once to

wrap the buffalo robe around himself to try to ward offt he creeping paralysis caused by the rapidly dropping temperature. The horses plodded on, with Jake proceeding more on an intuitive feel that he was getting closer than any real knowledge gave him since visibility was very limited. More and more his mind lost track of time and his surroundings.

Jake was brought abruptly back to his cold world when the bay stopped quickly, and he slid forward falling from her back. His limbs were cold enough that they would not respond, and it was only by grasping the saddle that he was able to draw himself erect beside the mare. He stamped his feet and beat his arms against his sides to restore the circulation, and then stumbled forward to see what had stopped the mare. The mare now stood with hanging head and shaking sides both from cold and fatigue. The paint was in no better shape. Jake stumbled squarely into the fence at the entrance to the valley and promptly fell to the ground again. However, they had made it. Whether he had instinctively guided the horses to this spot or the horses themselves had brought him here he would never know. All he knew was that he was here, and he thanked Manito for the strength of the horses and bringing them all to the valley.

When he opened the fence and led the horses through, he had to hold tightly to the lead ropes. Both knew where they were, and were ready to bolt away to reach the other horses and the food that would be there. Closing the fence, Jake climbed back on the mare much like an old man with stiff ts. He didn’t care, and the horses broke into a stumbling trot.

It was full dark when the horses stopped in front of the cabin. He was not surprised to find that Little Bear had been alerted by the sound of the horses even over the sounds made by the wind, and he was standing on the side of the cabin out of the wind. When Little Bear recognized the rider, he immediately came forward saying:

“It is good to see you, brother. Go inside and I will care for the horses.”

“I thank you Little Bear. It has been a long ride,” responded Jake with relief clearly heard in his voice. When he entered the cabin, the warmth hit him as a physical blow, and he actually felt dizzy. The sight of him, however, produced a quite different reaction within the cabin. Anne rushed to him and grabbed him around the waist, half ing him as he stumbled to the bench near the fire.

“Oh Jake, we’re so glad you are back. I didn’t know what had happened. When the storm came, I thought you had been hurt and we didn’t know where to find you, but Callahan kept saying it would be alright. Oh Jake, I was so worried.” Little Squirrel had come, and was helping remove the stiff, frozen moccasins and outer garments. If Jake had not been so tired and cold he would have been pleased by all the attention. All he really wanted was to get into his robes and sleep.

“Leave me. I must rest. The soldiers are gone, and we will talk tomorrow.” And with that he practically fell into the robes and into a sound sleep.

The next morning, Jake awoke early and his immediately thought was that he needed to check the horses and cattle. Little Bear had anticipated the need and was already mounted and on his way to make the circuit. Despite his intense dislike for the “white man’s buffalo”, he knew that Jake’s goal could only be reached by constant care and protection of the cows. Out of respect for his brother, he would do what was necessary to make it happen. As he rode by Jake, he commented:

“Rest brother. I will look after these stupid, bad tasting cows,but I will never understand why you did not choose to grow the buffalo that can take care of themselves.” And the way Jake felt this morning, he wondered too.

Chapter 16

The winter ed slowly with much more snow than the previous year. During the end of the winter season and the time of first leaves, frequent storms kept the ground covered with snow. Unfortunately, it was also the period when the mares and cows dropped their young. The work involved in providing food, water and shelter was unrelenting, In the few moments Jake had to himself each day, he reflected on how fortunate he was to have the help of Little Bear and Callahan. Without them he knew he would have suffered heavy losses of both calves and colts. As it was, he had lost only one cow and calf. Considering the fact that nearly two thirds of the cows and mares had produced young calves and colts, he was pleased with the increase. Besides, the meat of the cow and calf had not been lost to the people in the camp.

Jake also reflected on the importance of the grass he had cut and stored the previous fall. It would have resulted in more losses if they had not been able to draw on the supplies during some of the more critical periods. The biggest problem had been the small size of his stores. The work would have been much easier if more hay had been available. He would need to talk to Callahan and Little Bear about how to solve that problem for next year.

Little Bear had adapted well to the life in the valley. Actually his name had been changed to Bear Who Walks At Night during his time with the Cheyennes, and now it had been shortened to Bear by the others. He had developed a real skill at keeping the cattle moved from one feeding area to another, and he seemed to have a finely developed sense for anticipating the time when a move was necessary. He did not, however, have either the inclination or the skill for the manual work of building, fixing and gathering of materials needed to build a real working ranch. All of his life had been spent on weapons, horses and hunting outside ofhis family, and he was not interested on training for widely different tasks. It was enough, however, that he could do more than either of the other two

men when it came to management of the cattle feeding.

Callahan on the other hand was a sporadic participant in the activities. He had left both his native land and life in the eastern part of America to avoid the life of a farmer. He much preferred the life of a fur trapper, or now a trader, to the rigors and confines of farming. For him, caring for a bunch of cows was tatamount to farming. He would help his friend Jake when necessary, but certainly he did not intend to become trapped in a permanent situation. Any distraction served as an excuse to avoid tending cows, and, unfortunately, Star had given birth to a son in the midst of the calving season. Callahan had sincerely felt that the birth required that he both celebrate the event and spend time caring for Star and his new son, named Brian. It was an attitude that neither Star nor Little Squirrel agreed with, but they didn’t dispute the problem. Jake was fully aware of Callahan’s feelings, and was grateful for the help he did get, even though it was limited.

Callahan had also been absent while he hunted and trapped the nearby valleys. His efforts had been quite successful, and by late spring he had accumulated a good cache of buffalo, elk and deer hides in addition to fox, marten, otter and beaver furs. More and more he talked of making a trading trip that would let him start his plan for a trading post. Jake knew it was merely a matter of time before he would leave the Valley. Deep down he was not really sorry that it would happen.

With the advent of warmer weather and the growth of new grass, the work for feeding had decreased dramatically. The cattle could now forage for themselves, but a new problem raised its head. The dramatic increase in the size of both the horse and cattle herds had caused the emerging grass in the Valley to be eaten as fast as it appeared. Bear proposed the solution as the three sat before the fire near Callahan’s tipi on a warm spring evening.

‘‘You must do what the buffalo does. Since you must think for these stupid cows,

you will have to drive them to a new place where the grass is found. Then when the snow comes again, you can bring them here and the grass will be long enough to feed them again,” he started.

“It is a good idea, Bear,” replied Jake after thinking for a minute about the idea, “but I cannot do this myself I will need your help to do this thing.”

‘‘No brother. I must go before soldiers come.”

“Where will you go? The soldiers are everywhere now. It is better if you stay here with the other people, and we will fool the soldiers when they come. Just look, even the coyote has come to this place, and the white woman has taught them to be like the dogs of our villages. No, it is better to stay here, and I am sure the cattle will be better with you. In any case we can convince the soldiers that you are part of this Valley like everyone else.”

‘‘But what if the soldiers do come? How can you treat them?”

“We will tell them you are part of this family and that you have been here to live a long time. Also, we will sell them cows to eat and horses to ride.”

“He’s right Bear,” added Callahan. ‘‘Ye’re better off in this Valley and these hills. When me tradin’ post is made ye can be usin’ it to trade not only cattle and horses, but furs as well, an’ the doin’ of it will make it so that it won’t be necessary to be havin’ people comin’ here.”

‘‘That is true, Callahan,” added Jake, ‘‘but the Utes will come and we will trade horses with them.”

‘‘True. True, lad, but I doubt we will be needin’ to worry about their visits. You can trade for furs that I would be interested in. Anyway, it might even make it easier for Bear to blend into the area like one of the Utes if soldiers come.”

‘‘It seems good, but I wish to live away from this cabin. My family must be in a safe and comfortable place,” Bear finally agreed.

“Good. We will build a cabin at the head of this valley where you are out sight and near the trail that goes over the mountain above us. The whites will have great difficulty finding this trail,” ventured Jake.

“I want no white man’s house. My family will live in a tipi as we have always done,” responded Bear.

‘‘Then it is agreed?” asked Jake.

‘‘We will see,” replied Bear, and the matter was closed.

‘‘The other problem is the matter of the grass that must be stored for next year. Much more is needed,” commented Jake.

‘‘Well, Jake, Ah’ll be takin’ me tradin’ trip to the fort in two weeks. If ye’ll go

with me, Ah think we can find enough pieces of wagons that are abandoned along thet settler’s trail that we can make some fer the haulin’ of grass. Ab’ve seen a plenty o’ the stuff along that trail left by people who ran into a bit o’ trouble and dumped a lot o’ stuff. The obviously ran into a bit o’ trouble. We’ll also see what else we kin find.”

“But who will take care of the women?” objected Jake.

“Bear will be near, an’ we’ll not be stayin’ long.” The plan made good sense, and Jake did not argue the case for long. In preparation for the trip he cut his hair and donned the clothes that Anne had given him at Christmas time. He would need to appear as a white man if they encountered soldiers. In addition, he worked with the mules to insure that teams to pull the wagon were trained.

When the two weeks had ed, the two men were as ready as they could be. They were trailed by a string of pack horses and mules loaded with furs, hides and supplies, and while it was very early in the year, they would travel much of the time at night to avoid the mishap that Callahan had experienced the year before. They would also take the more westerly route through the desert like area north of the mountains bounding the edge north of the larger Bear Valley. At this time of year, there would be no problem finding water for men and animals.

The planning and strategy worked well. The two men enjoyed an uneventful trip through the country that was just turning green with spring. They only saw Indians on the last half-day. They spotted a small band of Indians in the distance traveling in the same direction, and were able to avoid them easily. At end of two weeks, they entered to confines of the fort and made camp.

During the evening as the cooking fire died out, they were visited by the contract trader at the fort.

“Callahan, how are ye? We heard ye had a bit o’ trouble with the Sioux last year, but ye’re lookin’ fit, so they must not hev got ye’re scalp,” he started out.

“No, Mike. Ah kept me scalp, but little else. The thievin’ rascals got everything else.”

“Wal, where hev ye bin since then? An’ what ye bin doin’? Don’t look like times wuz too hard.”

“No, Ah holed up for the winter with me friend Jake Andersen here, an’ did me some trappin’ an’ huntin’. Got me enough to do some tradin”.

“Andersen yah say? Looks like he’s got an awful red skin fer a name like that.”

“His father was Old Jake Andersen. One of the real trappers in these mountains.”

“Yeah. Well, I never met that one, but heerd some stories. Injun lover from whut I heard. Ye say this is his kid? Breed yuh mean. If he takes after his Ol’ man, ye better be keerful ’cause he’ll steal yuh blind. How ’bout you? Hev ye still got thet squaw ye had last time yuh wuz here?” Callahan became cautious, and Jake could see his Irish temper rising. But Callahan knew he still had to complete his trading first, and he bit his tongue.

“Jake’s a fine man, an’ Ah’ll vouch for the fact that ye can trust ’im. Me wife Star is doin’ fine and just gave a fine son.”

“Huh, ‘nether br—,” but the trader stopped short and changed the subject. He was well enough acquainted with Callahan to know that his temper was easily aroused, and he was a man who could take care of himself in a tight spot. There was no point in pushing these two men too far. The conversation dwindled to a few more forced pleasantries before the trader got up and left on the excuse that he had to get back to his trading post.

“I do not like or trust this man. He has bad feelings toward the people of this land,” observed Jake.

“He doesn’t speak with the truth lad. Ye see he trades with the Indian’s after they have drunk his whiskey. Now ah have nothin’ against sellin’ em whiskey, but only after the tradin’ is over. What they do after that Ah can’t be sure, but at least they have a chance to a fair deal. Besides, Ah know he buys and keeps young Indian girls locked in the back room of his store, and when he’s used em up he throws em out to fend for themselves. Some of em are in pretty bad shape when he is done”.

‘‘This is true? The man must be killed. He is destroying the Indians.”

“No, lad. There’s no law against buyin’ Indian women, and we can’t break the law by killin’ him or we’ll get in a lot o’ trouble.”

“We will see,” responded Jake quietly. ‘‘We can wait like our brother, the coyote. Does he leave this place?”

“He only leaves after the trading is done before the winter comes. Now, don’t be getting’ any ideas yet,” Callahan replied finally.

‘‘We will see,” responded Jake.

In the morning, Jake and Callahan went to the trader’s store to begin the trading only to find that any discussions with the trader would have to wait. They were met by a young cavalry lieutenant, who addressed them in a very formal manner.

‘‘I am Lieutenant James Worth here on behalf of the post commander, Major John Bastrom, and I wish to know where you came from,” he pompously announced.

“Oh, we came up from the south back in the mountains, Lieutenant. Were ye lookin’ for somethin’ in particular?”

“We sent a troop into the area of Yampah Valley after a bunch of renegade Indians that murdered some white settlers last winter. We chased them to the Yampah River where we lost them because a very heavy snowstorm caught us. When we tried to return back over the mountains, we lost six men and their horses because the snow was so deep and the cold so great. Now, we need information to help us find these murderers. Mr. Hanlon said you came from the Yampah. Have you seen these Indians?”

‘‘Well, now, we try to avoid Indians. Ah had me own brush with some Indians from up north, an’ Ah have no liken’ for such as these,” Callahan responded in trying to avoid the question.

‘‘How about you, Indian?” queried the officer looking in Jake’s direction. “Have you seen them killer Indians?”

‘‘I do not know what you say. We come from the land of the Bear River and have been with Ute Indians who live near us. Besides, I do not know this Yampah you speak of. It is only my family and the family of Callahan who live there. As the trader you talked to here must have told you, my father was a white man.” He had not lied and now decided he would give no more information to this soldier. He had also noted that it was the trader who had planted the seed with the soldiers, and that was why he pointed out that a white man was his father. Callahan added:

‘‘We don’t know anythin’ about the murders you mentioned. We’re here to trade, an then we’ll be on our way.”

“You Indians and squaw men stick together, and you better tell me what you know or I’ll have you in the guard house,” growled the officer. Jake assumed the blank, puzzled look of a typical Indian, and Callahan interrupted with:

‘‘Hold on now, Lootenant. You’ve no proof that either one of us has been doin’ wrong. We already told ye that we haven’t been near any place ye’re talkin’ about, and we don’t have nothin’ to do with any other Indians. If ye don’t mind, we’ll be goin’ about our business now.”

‘‘You are right, I don’t have proof that you were involved. I could still arrest you, but for now, I’ll keep a watch, and if I see one sign that you lied to me, I’ll have you in irons. Don’t forget it,” and he spun on his heel and stomped out of the low ceiling building. Callahan growled in a low voice that could not be heard

by the trader,

“Careful now. Don’t do nothin’ sudden. We’re goin’ to have to move fast.” He then turned to the trader and said:

“Ah, Mike a good mornin’ to yeo Let’s be about tradin’, and Ah’m sure ye have a right good deal for us.” The trader remained cautious and surly, but the trading went forward rapidly with Callahan and the trader walking among the furs closely followed by Jake. He would learn this business for future use in trading cattle and horses. Callahan was disarmingly affable and jovial, and Jake noticed that the trader relaxed and began to respond to Callahan’s friendly patter. The trading began to go easier with more and more advantage going to the trapper.

When markers for all of the furs had been exchanged, the trader looked at the horses and mules and asked:

“How ’bout them? The Army’ll be needin’ some replacements of them animals.” Callahan looked at Jake who shook his head without smiling.

“Ah guess not Mike. We need those horses and mules to git back home with all the stuff we are goin’ to buy from you. So, maybe not this time,” replied Callahan.

“Ah’ll give yuh a good price,” insisted the trader. “‘Sides, that dirty redskin prob’ly stole ’em. Maybe even from them settlers what was killed last year. Maybe Ah should talk to the Lootenant,” he threatened. Jake had stiffened and the anger growing in him was clearly seen on his face.

“Easy, lad. Let me handle this,” Callahan cautioned in the language of the Ute. “Now Mike, Ah’d not be making such charges without proof. Ye might be doin’ yerself some harm if the Army agrees that proof is needed. Now, let’s all cool down and git on with the tradin’,’ he continued. The trader muttered darkly as he glared at Jake, but his resolve began to fade, and it was clear that he had no wish to lose favor with the Army. Clearly the matter was not settled, and when he had the opportunity to speak quietly to Jake, Callahan directed him to be sure that they should to stay close to the trader until they were ready to ride out. It was very necessary to keep him from going to the Lieutenant before they were mounted and ready to ride out of the area.

Back inside the trading post, the trading went forward, only now it was much sharper and intense. The trader was actually giving up goods rather than paying for the markers. Callahan, on the other hand, showed a rare skill at striking a good bargain, an the pile of goods grew and grew. He selected barrels and boxes of flour, sugar, fruits and vegetables and other staples. He added powder, lead molds, caps, clothing, boots and bolts of cloth. To all of this he added assorted tools, leather, rope and other sundries. The only time Jake showed any interest was when Callahan bought a keg of whisky, and he showed a strong disapproval.

“Don’t be worrin’. It’s for me new tradin’ post, an’ Ah’ll not be takin’ it to the Valley,” he promised. Finally, only the markers representing the hides and furs that Jake had brought with him were left.

‘‘Well lad, what is it ye’re wantin? Hurry, now so we can get movin,” said Callahan. Jake responded in the same way.

‘‘I will buy the goods from you if you trade for it first. I do not wish to give this man one thing myself I would buy the many-shoots short gun, and some harness for the horses to use for the wagons we find. Will you do this thing?” He had

been looking at a six shot Walker Colt revolver. It was a weapon he had never seen before although he had heard of them. The thought of being able to fire six shots without reloading totally intrigued him.

“Ah’ll do me best, an’ Ah’ll trade for some supplies for ye and yere women. Now ye’d best be getting the horses here. We’ll be needin’ to pack and get down the trail before this trader starts to get to the Army and makes trouble. Move quickly now.”

‘‘Here now, whut’s all that heathen gibberish. Ah’ll have none o’ that in here. Yuh’ll either talk like a white man or yuh kin git out,” shouted the trader with his suspicion fully aroused.

‘‘Move fast now lad,” said Callahan, and Jake quickly left to get the horses, mules and packs. When he returned, all of the goods had been moved out of the trading post and separated into individual, pack-sized loads. Now Jake began to sense the urgency that was driving Callahan, and both men set about loading the pack animals in earnest.

It was dusk when they finished the work, and the trader had not left them alone surely on the basis that he could not leave them alone near his post. Callahan mounted and led the horses and mules with the comment,

‘‘We’ll ride at night, Jake. Ah got a very bad feelin’ about Ol’ shifty eyes here, and Ah think he means trouble for us by goin’ to the soljers. Now move along quickly.” In response they moved at a steady trot of several miles along their back trail. When the darkness had deepened to the point where the fort was well out of sight, Callahan led the way up a stoney wash toward the west.

‘‘We still need the wagons, Jake, and Ah know a stretch of the settler’s trail that is pretty rough. There’ll be a lot of things abandoned along there.”

‘‘How far must we go?” responded Jake.

“Ah think it’s about a days ridin’, but we’ll have to find a place to hole up through tomorrow. It would not surprise me if that trader or him and the soljers tried to follow us and take our goods and horses.”

Shortly before dawn they found a small ravine with a trickle of water that ran down its length and overlooked the trail below. There were enough small pools to water the horses and mules, and the surrounding walls provided cover from prying eyes. Here they would spend the day.

Near mid-day Jake awakened the sleeping Callahan, and they both went to the edge of the ridge at the mouth of the ravine to watch a company of cavalry move past them following the trail westward. The soldiers moved in a leisurely fashion that indicated that they not found additional tracks on the well used trail that represented the two who been trading. At mid-afternoon the troopers returned heading eastward back to the fort. They had not found what they were seeking. The short time searching also indicated that they were not looking very hard.

As the soldiers ed from view in the east, Jake and Callahan loaded the horses and mules and rode westward. They would need the few hours of remaining light to make their search for the items that had been discussed. As they rode parallel to the trail, Jake was amazed at the amount of abandoned articles strewn as far as the eye could see by the thousands of travelers who had ed this way. He could not understand how people could have carried these things this far and by the wastefulness involved. Every possible thing that could be imagined for human use could be found lying in the sand along the trail from

bits of clothing to furniture to equipment, tools and utensils. Personal trunks, family pictures and china sets of dishes were mixed with worn out boots, farm tools and the bones of livestock. Jake could only wonder how precious these things were that the settlers had dragged this far, and what heartbreak had been involved in discarding them. He also felt some disdain for people who would carry so many useless things with them, but then he thought of how much Anne would appreciate some of the things for the cabin. He would have to talk to Callahan about this matter.

Jake’s reverie was interrupted by a sharp whistle from Callahan who was waving him on from a spot nearly a quarter of a mile ahead. When he reached the Irishman, he saw it. It was the frame and axles of a wagon body, but no wheels were with them.

“She looks to be a good one, Jake. Everything is sound, an’ now all we have to do is find wheels, but that’s the hard part. Most folks take those along for spares, but we’ll see.” They marked the spot and continued their search. Again, it was Callahan who made the find. It was a complete wagon, but this time the tongue was broken. It had been carefully put in the patch of heavy sagebrush as if the owner had intended to return for it, but never made it back.

The search continued, and finally located all the needed parts and enough extras to the wagons for a long time. One wheel had been found half—buried on the side of the trail. Two more were found carefully stacked behind some brush, again as if the owner had planned to return. It was very unlikely that they could come back, and it meant that nothing was done wrong in picking them up. The last wheel had been rolled a distance away from the trail, as if the owner had set it rolling in a fit of anger. The tongue was easier to find. It was the only part of a burned out wagon that had survived.

“We’d best be lookin’ for a camp Jake. We’ll not be getting this stuff together in the dark,” ventured Callahan. “In fact, we’ll probably be needin’ most of

tomorrow to be ready for takin’ the trail.”

“We will need a safe place in case the soldiers come. The wash with the water in it where the last wheel was found is a good one,” said Jake.

“Ye’re right. We’ll head for that place, an’ plan to spend tomorrow workin’ on the wagons and loads,” replied Callahan.

The night was uneventful despite Jake’s worries about being too close to the “white man’s road”. Both men were up and busily preparing for the day. They had spent time the night before planning their move, and each of them knew what he was to do. Jake would take four mules, harness and the tongue and head for the intact wagon, while Callahan would take four horses, collect the wheels and go; for the first of the two wagons. Jake had one request before the two parted.

‘‘Will we be able to carry; more things in the wagons?”

“More things? What do ye mean, lad?”

“There are many white man things along the trail. Maybe we could take some of the things they sit on and a bed. Also some of the tables and boxes with places to store clothes.”

“Are ye tellin’ me ye’re turnin’ completely white on me, Jake?”

“It is not for me. Anne will like these things.”

“Aah, Ah see lad,” and Callahan did see. He had been aware that Jake’s interest in the girl had changed in the last few months. He had seen him ignore the blandishments and frank interest of Little Squirrel in him. Despite her greater experience, Jake was obviously not interested in the older Ute woman. Callahan had, however, caught the young man studying the white girl intently when he thought he was not being observed. He also noted that Jake spent a good deal more time talking with Anne than he had in the past. The fact that the girl had begun to fill out in all the right places had surely had its effect on the young man, and was equally, surely observed by him.

“Ah well,” thought Callahan. “Spring does that to any man.” But instead, he didn’t voice his thoughts. Instead, he merely said,

‘‘We’ll see what we can do Jake. It should be possible with as many horses and mules as we have.” Their planning paid off, and by mid-morning they were on their way back to the campsite with the wagons. They began traveling westward along the main trail despite Jake’s misgivings. Callahan had assured him that a patrol by the soldiers would not be made for another three or four days if the officer followed their usual routine. He pointed out that that it was also much too early in the spring for the first settlers wagons to have reached this far. Still, Jake worried.

As they moved, they collected things that would be needed, an extra axle here, a wheel wrench there, a can of axle grease hanging from a broken wagon, the odd tool and the bits of furniture that would best fit Jake’s request. They even found a small cookstove that Callahan assured Jake would be a real prize for Anne. Actually, Jake was not convinced that was the case since Anne preferred that Little Squirrel do the cooking, But Callahan was insistent and Jake went along with the older man’s suggestion. He did not hesitate, however, when Callahan made the biggest find of the time they had been on the trip. The Irishman had

been leading the way, which gave Jake a chance to learn the ways of handling a four mule team, when Callahan gave out a whoop and stopped his team.

‘‘Look’it that Jake. Would ye look’it that? We must have that beauty.” Jake stopped his team and looked at the object of Callahan’s interest. It appeared as no more than a tangle of metal and wood with two wheels laying beside the trail. He was not the least bit impressed.

“It’s a mowin’ machine, lad. It’s a thing I heard about, but never saw for real. It’ll make yer work much easier in cuttin’ grass for yer animals. Ah heard about this thing back in the east, but Ah never knew anyone that had money enough to own one. Now here it is!”

“A mowin’ machine? What do you mean? What does it do?”

‘‘Here, ye see. It’s got no tongue, but ye hook a team to it, and as they pull it, it cuts the grass. Ye don’t have to do it by hand, and yer hay makin’ is done faster.” Now Jake’s interest was peaked.

“It is true? How does it work?”

“Never mind, lad. Ye must have this, an’ Ah’ll show ye about it when we get home. Now help me get it loaded on the back of the wagon.” Loading it was easier said than done. With it’s unwieldy cycle bar and cast iron construction, the two men struggled mightily to get it on the wagon. After much tipping, twisting and prying, they finally got it on the wagon bed and lashed it down. By the time they were done, it was mid afternoon and they had traveled beyond the campsite. They agreed that they could not travel to find a new campsite after loading all of

the things they had, so they hurried back to the campsite to start preparation and remain out of sight from the trail.

It had been a good day, but they were not done. They had decided to load everything they could on the wagons in preparation for an early start the next day. It was late night before all of the trade goods and the salvaged furniture and equipment they could take were loaded and securely fastened down. There was only time for a few brief hours sleep before the two men were up in the gray predawn light catching and hitching mules and horses to the wagons and forming strings of pack horses.

They had decided they would travel westward until they ed the old Shoshone trail that led south into the desert, and then into the valley of the Bear River. It would mean they have to backtrack eastward along the Bear River until they reached the point where it turned south toward Jake’s valley, but both men agreed that it was safer than traveling back toward the fort. They departed at dawn under a heavily clouded gray sky, and headed west on the “white man’s road”.

They traveled all day under gray skies and managed to cover a full 18 miles with their fresh horses and mules. Callahan had estimated that it would require two days to reach the trail southward, but mid-day on the second day, the rain began to fall. At first, both men were grateful for the chance to have their tracks obscured, but as the rain continued to fall, the travel became a nightmare. The well-worn tracks they followed soon filled with water. As the day wore on the tracks became a morass of sticky mud that caused the mules and horses to labor and the wagons to drag. Finally, Callahan led them out of the trail onto a new route through the sage brush parallel to the old trail.

It was well into the third day before they finally reached the trail going south, and they gratefully turned the wagons and moved away from the white man’s road. Fortunately, it had begun to rain about an hour before they turned and they

looked forward to the covering of their trail that took place. They traveled on for another two hours and camped early to give the horses and mules extra rest.

The next ten days were almost unbearable for Jake. The confinement of a wagon seat behind four mules as Callahan worked his way through and around ravines, steep hills, rivers, deep sand and mountain es tested Jake sorely. He frequently longed to be mounted on his favorite horse with freedom to go where he wanted. He now understood why his father had so little regard for the teamsters who drove their wagons from Bent’s Fort. He would, however, endure this trip, because he had made his commitment for it.

The loads on the wagons were bulky, but not heavy when compare to the loads attempted by many of the settlers. The four team mules and horses made good time at this point, and in nine days they had reached the trail along the Bear River. The time spent on the wagon seat and in letting the horses and mules rest and graze was not entirely wasted. His mules readily followed Callahan’s wagon and required little urging or guidance. He spent the time studying and learning the operation of his new revolver. At the end of each day, he carefully practiced aiming and shooting. Once he learned to insure that each load was carefully measured, his accuracy improved dramatically. In fact, Callahan shivered involuntarily as he watched Jake fire at a small white rock the night before they reached the Bear River. Jake would be a formidable adversary against someone adversary against someone he considered an enemy. Gun in hand, he could place all six shots on the rock in less time than it took to count to six. He had not yet learned to draw the pistol from his belt or a holster, but his accuracy greatly outweighed the need for quickness of drawing. He had learned the lessons of his father well, and his prior use of the single shot muzzle loading pistols provided by Old Jake were being developed into a skill that would serve him well for the rest of his life.

The two men had been gone from the valley for four weeks and they still had another week’s travel left. They now began pushing the teams harder. At the end of the second day where the river forked southward toward Jake’s valley, they

ran into another party of travelers. They had seen smoke or a campfire early in the day, and decided they would be unable to avoid being seen by the campers. It would be best to continue on the trail and trust that they could handle any trouble that might arise. Callahan was quick to urge Jake that the new revolver was loaded and ready.

The preparations were unnecessary. As they approached the camp, they were met by two mounted men whose dress and equipment marked them unquestionably as trappers. They rode up with rifles held across their saddles in a ready position, but immediately relaxed when Callahan shouted happily:

“Jeb! Davy! Ye ugly beaver thieves. What are ye doin’ here?”

“Callahan, yuh fool Mick. Ain’t the Injuns sculpt yuh yet? Ah know yuh ain’t growed no sense since Ah saw yuh last. Air thet yer keeper thar?” and he pointed to Jake.

“Here now! Is that any way to greet an ol’ friend and a businessman at that?”

“Businessman? What do yuh mean, hoss? Yuh ain’t nuthin’ but a fool mountain man lak us.” The insults continued back and forth much to the amazement of Jake. In spite of all the good natured jabbing, the information about Callahan’s planned establishment of a trading post, Jake’s return to his ranch and the two trappers plans to visit the trading post with their furs was all exchanged. It was decided that Jake and Callahan would spend the night at the trapper’s camp, whether out of hospitality or in hopes that Callahan could share some of his prized trade goods.

The camp was located at the fork of the upper Bear River leading to Jake’s Valley in a small stand of cottonwoods on the bank of the river. The place seemed to be crawling with kid’s who; came whooping and running to greet the new arrivals. They came in all sizes, and swarmed over the wagons like a pack of coyotes. Callahan swore at them loudly with no effect, and finally it was the deep throated bark of the one called Davy that drove them off. They dutifully lined up near the side of the wagon, and Jake counted nine boys and girls. It was not really so many, but they were active enough to make it seem like twice as many. Jake was not as concerned at the action of the kids, since it was not much different than Indian kids.

“Damn,” muttered Callahan as he and Jake dismounted and began the task of unhitching and caring for the mules and horses. ‘‘They’re camped right at the spot where Ah planned to put me cabin for tradin’. Hope this pack don’t plan to stay long.”

“You planned to put your trader house here. Why?”

“Lots o’ reasons, lad. First, there’s wood and water available. Then, it’s on the trail from Rabbit Ears, and you have a fine view of the land around it including the mountain trail. With the trees for cover, a man could see trouble comin’ an’ take care of himself if it did come. Besides, it’s far enough away from yer valley that it won’t attract visitors to you and ye can still bring yer cows and horses here to trade. Ah think it’s the best place for a lot of reasons.”

“It maybe so, Callahan. You have thought of many things, and it seems that you have planned for the best to both of us,” noted Jake.

In the late afternoon light that covered the area when the two men finished their chores, they walked to the camp of the trappers. The two trappers had chosen

well. Their camp lay in a loop of the river with water on three sides and the cottonwoods covering a part of the fourth side. From the look on Callahan’s face, it was clear to Jake that this was the very spot on which he wished to locate his trading post. Well, they would just have to see what the two trappers intended.

Their hosts sat on piles of sleeping robes while their Indian wives busied themselves with the preparation of an evening meal. While the two trappers did not show a willingness to help with the camp work, the women and children were neatly dressed and the camp was well laid out. Good discipline was being maintained and that was a good sign. Jeb was the first to speak.

“Got any baccy on the wagon o’ yourn, Callahan?”

“Well now, Ah have a bit o’ the weed. Why?”

“How ’bout sharin’ some with yer friends here? We ain’t seed real baccy sincet last summer.” Pulling a small pouch of tobacco he had ground with his hands, Callahan said:

“Sure an’ it’ll be me pleasure to share some. Go on and fill yer pipes.” When the pipes were filled, lighted and they started being drawn, Jeb continued to take the lead in the conversation.

“Business ye say? Jest what kind o’ business yuh talkin’ bout?”

‘‘Well now, Ah’ll be startin’ a tradin’ post here in this valley. The things yuh see on the wagon are the start of it.”

“Yuh don’t say. What ’bout them mules? Are yuh gonna be tradin’ them?”

“Can’t say for sure. They belong to Jake here. What do ye say, Jake?” Having been silent throughout the conversation, Jake was still reluctant to the discussion, but he shook his head and said,

“No, I do not wish to trade the mules. Horses—cows, these I will trade.”

“Horses? Cows? What cows? Where yuh git this Injun anyway? He yer pardner?” Jed prodded further.

“Ye might be sayin’ that. He does a bit o’ ranchin’ nearby, and if ye want to trade, Ah can help arrange it,” smirked Callahan while assuming Jake did not want to deal directly with these people.

“He wouldn’t be from up the valley a ways where we seed thet barricade acrost the front of one the valley snow would he? Seemed like a right unfriendly thing to do.”

“It could be, but I wouldn’t suggest that ye go pokin’ around there uninvited. There were some that did, and they didn’t go home. If ye know what Ah mean,” responded Callahan making sure the warning went out that the valley was taken. “Besides,” he continued, “this man is Jake Andersen’s boy. Surely ye know of

Old Jake. He was a very private man, or so I’m told.”

“Old Jake ye say? His breed kid? Now ain’t thet sumpin’. Met Old Jake ’bout 20 years ago. Ain’t no question he were a private feller. Not one tub mess with as Ah recall. So yer his pup?” Jake merely nodded, and remained silent while Jed continued. “Don’t want no dam cows, but we do need horses. Mebbe we kin trade somein the mornin’ fore we go.” Callahan brightened.

‘‘Ye’re leavin’ in the mornin’? Sure an’ we’d be glad to do some tradin’,” he assured the two men. His relief at finding the two trappers would not be stay in this spot too long was all too obvious to Jake. After they had eaten and the two were walking back to their camp, they made their plans for the coming day. Callahan would handle the trading, and any furs received for horses would be held by Callahan as an against which he could draw for things he needed. It was a particularly suitable arrangement for Jake. He would not have to deal directly with the trappers, and his lack of knowledge about the value of things would not cause him such big losses.

In the morning, the trading was short lived. The trapper’s major interest was whiskey, horses and ammunition. Jake carefully selected three of the horses, and Callahan doled out powder and lead. He steadfastly refused to sell any of the whiskey, however, in fear that trappers would get drunk and remain on the campsite. Somewhat disappointed, the two trappers loaded their pack horses with the remaining furs and camp items, got everyone mounted and headed north.

Jake and Callahan also loaded their belongings and started south along the river determined to make a few miles on the trail before dark. Callahan would go to the Valley to collect his belongings and return to build his trading post, while Jake would start the many tasks of preparing for the winter.

Chapter 17

The summer had been warm and dry. With the exception of a visit by Left Hand and three other Ute braves with their families, Jake and the others had not had visitors after Callahan left. The visit by the Utes was short lived and both Jake and Little Bear were relieved when they could resume the summer work. There was much to be done.

Before Callahan left, he had helped Jake reassemble the mowing machine and cut a new tongue. They had hitched a team of mules to the strange contraption, and gone back and forth while Jake learned to drive the team and operate it without damaging either the machine or himself as he walked along behind it. The slowness with which Jake mastered the operation of this completely baffling tool exasperated Callahan, but he persisted. Finally, he announced that he was confident that Jake would not kill either himself or anyone else, and packed his things. Soon thereafter, he thankfully departed with wife and son.

From the day Callahan left until the aspen leaves began to turn color and the grass stopped growing, Jake stubbornly continued to cut and collect the grass hay wherever he could find it. His methods were unique. Without having seen organized farming, he was not fettered by any of the usual rules of ordered lines of cuts. He simply drove the mowing machine from clump to clump of taller grass in a somewhat wandering fashion. He would mow until he had enough to satisfy himself and then pile the dried bunches in the one repaired wagon to haul it back to the cabin. By the time he quit, he had three sizeable piles of hay near the cabin. It was certainly a lot more than he had cut the previous year.

The decision to stop cutting was not made on the basis of time or amount of hay accumulated. Rather, it was made when the wooden shaft that drove the cutter

struck a sharp rock and shattered. Jake realized that it had been his carelessness and lack of attention. Callahan had warned him about rocks, but his mind had wandered to days of ed hunts and he longed to be roaming the hills in search of the buffalo, deer, elk and antelope. Well, now he would be able to do that. Later he would worry about fashioning a new shaft using the old one as a pattern.

The next day, Jake loaded his hunting equipment on two pack mules and Red Eagle, and rode out to find Little Bear. Anne had objected bitterly against his leaving again.

“You should not leave Little Squirrel and me alone. You were gone a long time ago a few month ago,” she argued vigorously. “We can eat the cows rather than chasing wild animals. We have more than enough to feed us.”

“As long as I can have the kind of animals that Manito gave to my father, I will eat of them. The meat of the cows is weak: and fit only for the white man,” Jake responded stubbornly. It was a strong statement against the whites and Jake knew that had offended the girl as soon as he said it, but he strongly felt the urge to be out where he could get the fresh meat of the game of this land. Deep down he really felt the need to go out and relive the things he had been able to do before he had made the decision to stop following the Indian way of life.

“It is done,” he said. ‘‘I will go now.” And Anne knew that further argument was useless.

Jake found the camp of Little Bear and his family as the sun was setting. It was located in the trees along the side of the valley to the south where the horse and cattle herds were grazing. In the fading light Jake could see that the animals were sleek and healthy. The foals and calves were no longer the gangly,

awkward youngsters that had tagged along the sides of their mothers, but they were full fledged juveniles ready for trouble.

“Haugh, brother, you are too careless. If the Crows had been here, your hair would decorate a lance by now,” commented Bear, ‘

‘No, Little Bear, I had already seen your camp, and knew you were nearby. You have done well with the horses and cows. They are strong and well fed.”

‘‘Manito has favored us with his grass and water. He has given us good winds and the rain has been gentle but enough for the grass. Now, I grow tired of being the watch dog of these stupid cows.”

“I too am tired of the white man’s life, and that is why I have come. We will go and hunt the buffalo and get meat for the winter. I long for the taste of the buffalo meat that makes us strong.”

“Ahh! It is good, but what will we do with these cows?”

“We will drive everything to the head of the valley and drag branches to discourage drifting to the opening of the valley. If there is good grass, they should not wander far. We will only be gone for three days. When we return we will take all of the horses and cows to Bear Valley.”

“It is good. My wife, Meadowlark and Deer Woman can stay and keep the cows from going away. She can get ready to return.”

“But can they take care of themselves if anyone comes here?” asked Jake.

“You know they are able to take of themselves. They are not like the white woman you have at your house,”Little Bear said jokingly. Now Jake could see that Little Bear was beginning to get excited by the prospect of the hunt, and he decided not argue about the women. As they rode toward the camp, Little Bear chattered on about the summer’s grazing and the dullness of white man’s work. It was clear that he did not like the life of a herder, but Jake knew that the alternative of going back to running and hiding from the soldiers was even less desirable. Little Bear was not a fool, and he, too, had become convinced that the white men would stay and become more numerous. The reports by the Utes had confirmed that more and more of the white men were crawling over these mountains looking for the gold that prized so highly, and they were building houses to be able to stay here. They had even been found in the valley just east of the valley of the Bear River while digging and searching. The loop was getting tighter for the Utes in these mountains as it had for other Indians in other areas. It was a grim thought for the brothers, but they had set out on a course for their lives that was driven by an anticipation of the events that were happening, albeit sooner than they had expected.

The brothers talked late into the night. The loneliness and lack of male companionship enforced by their summer’s work was obvious. They talked excitedly about the hunt, and they shared stories of the summer’s work. The loss of a calf to a mountain lion was taken more philosophically than expected Jake. After all, they were intruding on the lion’s home, and its right life must be respected. If it was found in Jake’s Valley, then that attitude would change. It was also true that if a calf had been killed in their Valley, their attitude would have been different. The loss of the drive shaft for the mower was something Little Bear did not begin to understand. His interest in mechanical things was less than casual. A shortage of hay he could understand, but a failure of some white man’s mechanical contraption was not worthy of his notice.

The two brothers caught up the horses and mules needed for the hunt early in the morning, and were on their way shortly after sunrise. Meadowlark had accepted being left behind without comment. After all, hunting forays were a part of her life, and she fully understood the necessity of such a hunt. She and Little Deer both began preparing for the return of the hunters with meat and hides, and the return to Bear Valley.

Little Bear led the way as the two rode westward.

‘‘I have been watching where the buffalo and deer are feeding during the grass season. We will find many buffalo west of the river and in tall grass near the river. We can get below them, and the ones we do not kill will run up the valley where we can hunt them again.” They reached the herd at mid-day, and tied the pack animals to the willows along the river. Once cinches were tightened a bit and rifles were loaded, they mounted and began a slow stalk using the screen of the willows as cover. Little Bear would use his bow, since reloading his single rifle would be difficult and probably limit him to one shot. Jake, however, had two rifles and his Walker, and would rely on them for getting more than one of the buffalo.

The buffalo were standing near the river in the noon day heat. They had finished their morning grazing, and were resting and fighting flies as they waited for the hot hours to . The two hunters stopped at the edge of the willows and selected their targets. At Little Bear’s signal, they jumped their horses from cover and bore down on the buffalo. At the sight of the horses and riders, the buffalo hesitated in confusion for an instant, and it was enough to permit both riders to reach the side of their intended targets. Jake fired point blank into the side of the fat cow he had selected. The sound of the shot sent the rest of the herd galloping upriver to escape. It was too late, the brothers had turned their horses and were already beside a second target. Jake fired his second shot into the side of another cow and then pulled his horse to a stop. He could see the gout of blood pumping from her side, and he watched as she staggered a few more yards. Two down. He was satisfied for the day.

On the other hand, Little Bear was now approaching his third target. His aim was true again, even though the young bull continued to run, for a couple hundred yards before crashing into the ground in a cloud of dust. When Jake looked around, his heart leaped. They had been very successful. Five buffalo lay along the line of retreat, and Jake’s exhilaration was as tempered by the realization that a long afternoon of work to skin, cut up and make packs of the meat stretched ahead of him. He thought ruefully about his lack of a wife to help him with these chores.

“Ho, brother, the white man’s gun still does not match the bow of our fathers for our hunting. I have killed three buffalo in the time it took you to shoot two,” shouted Little Bear teasingly as he rode up.

‘‘The skill of the hunter cannot be denied,” replied Jake. “The results are before our eyes,” and he bowed his head in mock defeat. They both laughed in pure delight, and then walked to the nearest fallen animal. Drawing their knives they quickly cut the stomach cavity open and removed the liver, stomach, heart and gall. With hands and faces dripping blood, they gorged themselves with raw liver dipped in gall and drank from the “liquor” in the stomach. Unlike their father, they had no qualms about eating these delicacies.

When both could eat no more, they set about the task of caring for the buffalo that had been killed. When darkness fell, they built a fire and continued working. It was a good time despite the hard work. The good natured banter that ed back and forth not only served as encouragement, but helped restore the bond that had weakened by their separation. Late into the night they had completed the rough field dressing and packing of three of the buffalo, and they agreed to sleep a few hours, and resume the work early in the morning. They would try to get an early start and beat the heat of the day.

They reached the camp where Meadowlark waited shortly after noon the following day trailed by a heavily laden pack string. They need not have worried about the hot sun. They had awakened at dawn to a gray sky that produced a steady drizzle. They had been forced to leave some of the less desirable parts of the killed behind, but Little Bear reminded Jake that:

‘‘Brother coyote has need of some food too. It will not be wasted.” Meadowlark, too, was delighted with the hunt, and she sang softly as she and Dear Woman began the chore of cutting the meat into smaller pieces and laying it out to insure that it was cool. Later, it would be bound in the hides to serve as packs. There would be enough horses to carry everything and then some.

Jake and Little Bear stayed in camp the next day and helped the two squaws with the preparation of the meat. That night Jake suggested that they make one more trip to hunt the buffalo again. He was reluctant to give up this time and Little Bear showed his appreciation by readily agreeing. They left early the next morning, and this time it was late afternoon when they located the small herd. The buffalo were more skittish after their more recent encounter with the hunters. Even after a careful stalk, they were only able to kill two of the large beasts. Still they were satisfied. After all, they had a long season ahead of them before the winter cold set in.

The brothers chatted amiably as they led the loaded pack horses back toward camp the next day.

“It is a good day, brother,” commented Jake. “We have meat and hides, and we have the horses and cows. I can return to Bear Valley with a good heart, and we can hunt again later.”

“Yes White Bear, my heart is strong again. We have lived the old way, and it is

good.” They continued to ride along in comfortable silence until they were about to enter the valley of the camp. Suddenly, Little Bear pulled his horse to an abrupt halt and lifted his head to the wind.

“What is it, brother? Why do you stop?” queried Jake.

“Something is wrong in the valley. The squirrels chatter too much, and the birds are warning each other.”

After listening for a few minutes, Jake said, “You are right. I have grown careless, but now we will tie the pack horses in the trees and approach the camp as we would the buffalo.” With the horses bearing the packs securely tied, Jake said, “Go through the trees on the other side and I will ride on this side. If anything is wrong, one of us has a chance to get away and get help.” Little Bear nodded and began working his way through the trees. Nothing in his manner displayed anything but an intense concentration for the task before him. The worry that ate at his whole being for his family was carefully kept inside of him while another part worked on the elimination of the problem he had sensed on entering the valley.

Jake moved rapidly through the trees on his side of the valley more rapidly than he had expected. Red Eagle seemed to sense that he was part of a hunt. He slipped through the trees with ears set alertly forward with all the stealth of a hunting mountain lion. Each hoof was carefully placed to avoid branches and twigs. Jake sat astride the big stallion in utter amazement. The big stud actually seemed to be enjoying the cat and mouse game. When he reached the edge of the trees, he stopped with ears set forward and eyes and nostrils searching.

Jake’s heart sank. The first thing he saw was the horses and cows bunched by the watering hole under the watchful eye of a Crow brave. When he looked closer to

the place where he sat, he saw a second Crow brave moving purposely with knife in hand from his horse toward the form of Meadowlark stretched beside a green buffalo hide. As Jake jumped Red Eagle from the screen of trees, he saw the brave pulling his leggings and breech cloth to one side as he neared the woman. Apparently he had other ideas about what he would do before he killed her. That meant that she was alive and about to suffer the effects of an aching loin on the part of her attacker whether she was conscious or not.

At the thunder of Red Eagle’s hooves as he bore down on the scene, the Crow whirled to face the sound as quick as a cat. Instant recognition of the fact that he was separated from his musket was translated into a dash for his horse. The Walker appeared in Jake’s fist without apparent movement and barked once. The Crow wheeled forward carried by his momentum and slid to a stop at the hooves of his horse. When Red Eagle slid to a stop near him, Jake could see that he was alive, and he was feebly groping for the knife he had lost on his tumble. Without aiming or thought, Jake calmly shot him squarely between the eyes before turning toward the herd.

Jake need not have worried. The Crow warrior standing guard had turned toward the shots in alarm. At that moment, Little Bear’s horse lunged from the trees and before the Crow realized it, he was there. Horse and rider were upon him. Little Bear’s war club descended as the stout shoulder of the buffalo runner hit the side of the Indian pony. The solid thunk of the club against the side of the Crow’s head told its own story. He was literally catapulted from the pony, and hit the ground in a limp sprawl. Little Bear’s rage had lent strength to the arm carrying the club.

Little Bear did not stop. He raced to the spot where Jake knelt over the form of his wife, and flung himself from his horse. But he was stopped by the appearance of his son from the bushes behind the tipi where he had been with Little Deer and her child.

“Father, father! There is another warrior. He will kill us,” and as the words reached him so did a rifle ball. It came so close that it hit the rocks between Jake and the son. It ricocheted to the left and struck the running boy in the left leg. It was a wound that would leave him with a scar, but more importantly with a limp for the rest of his life. When they looked the third Crow warrior was lashing his horse to a gallop to escape down the valley. Jake was on his feet first and snarled:

“He is mine, brother. See to your wife and son,” as he flung himself on Red Eagle and whirled to the chase. The chase lasted for long minutes, but the outcome was never in doubt. Red Eagle gained steadily on the Indian pony. The Crow warrior tried twice to shoot first with his bow and next with his rifle. Neither was effective. When Jake was at a point close enough, he aimed carefully and shot the warrior between the shoulder blades. It was done. Jake quickly scalped the dead brave, mounted and rode back to camp. It was a habit he would have to break, but for now he had no other thought than satisfaction with the thing he had done to the two Crow she had shot.

Meadowlark had regained consciousness when he returned. The three Crow warriors had slipped into the camp that morning. The leader had struck Meadowlark a blow while she was working on scraping the buffalo hide. At the same time Little Deer, her daughter and Little Wolf had gone into the trees to do their daily toilet tasks, and when they heard and saw the Crows coming, they had scurried deeper into the brush behind the tipi. The Crows had continued searching around and then had been occupied with insuring that his mother was without further protection of other adults. Now Little Bear and Jake were faced with both an injured woman and a small boy. As they worked, Little Bear talked.

“These are my father’s people. Yet they fight us, and I must kill them. It grieves me, brother.” Jake responded with more similar information,

“The whites are my father’s people too, yet they killed our mother and I was

forced to kill them. It is a strange world when you do not know your enemies.”

Once the boy’s leg was bandaged and placed in a splint and it was determined that Meadowlark was seriously hurt, the decision was made to load the pack horses and mules with everything moveable. Little Bear would take his family and the horses back to Bear Valley by the most direct route. Jake would follow with the cattle. When Little Bear reached the Valley, he would send Anne back to help with the cattle. It was decided. The packing began at once.

In the morning, Little Bear departed with the long train of horses. Meadowlark had recovered enough to be able to help with the pack animals while Little Deer took care of the children. The children clung to their mounts like the veterans they were while Little Deer followed and watched them closely. It took quite a while to get all the horses moving, but once moving, they began to make good time.

Jake on the other hand took his time loading his camp equipment, bunching the cattle and gradually pushing them down the valley. He was in no hurry. By himself, such a large herd would be difficult to handle. He would merely keep them moving in the right direction until Anne showed up to help.

Jake kept the cattle moving for two days, and in that time he had cleared the valley where they started and moved about five miles down stream on Bear River. It was exhausting work. Keeping the strays from leaving the drive and forcing the entire bunch moving made it necessary to keep his horse constantly in motion. It was not at all like following a grazing, drifting herd.

Anne appeared, riding hard, but on the second day. She was leading a single pack horse, and both of the horses showed signs of hard travel.

“Jake,” she shouted as she drew near. “It’s the soldiers. The soldiers are coming. We must hurry!”

“Speak calmly, Anne. Where are the soldiers? What do they want? We must be ready when they come.”

“Little Bear saw them down on the Bear River Valley. He sent me ahead because he thinks they are after him. He told me to come and get you. He will take his family and hide them in the hills until they are gone, but we must go back quickly.”

“No, Anne. We will take the cows down with us. We must be able to show that this is our home, and the cattle belong to us. We cannot draw attention to Little Bear by confronting the soldiers. Everything must be as if we do not have anything to hide. Besides, we know that Little Bear will find a hiding place that cannot be found easily.”

“You’re right, Jake. That’s a better idea than we had.” For the rest of the afternoon they pushed the cattle hard, moving them another two miles.

The next day Jake and Anne started early and pushed the cattle hard again. By mid-day they had covered the remaining five miles to the entrance to Jake’s Valley. It was then that they met the soldiers. They came in a column of 20 soldiers with three scouts spread in front. Jake and Anne stopped and sat their horses at the back of the herd. As they sat, the herd began to straggle into Jake’s Valley as they recognized their home range.

They were approached by a dusty trio comprised of a lieutenant, a sergeant and an Indian guide. It was hard to tell which tribe the guide represented because of the variety of clothes and weapons he sported. He wore a battered black hat and gray canvas shirt with blue cavalry tros and long Black foot type mocassins. Jake decided that it didn’t really matter where he was from.

‘‘Good afternoon,”greeted the Lieutenant. “Who are you and where might you be going?” Jake ignored the question about who he was and replied:

“We’re taking our cattle to our ranch for the winter. Why do you ask?”

“Your cattle you say. Looks like a lot of different brands in that herd.Who says they’re yours?” This time Anne answered.

‘‘There are some strays among the herd that we gathered, but they belong to us now. The rest are calves that we raised. We are taking them to our ranch.”

“Well, we will just see about that. Actually, we are looking for a bunch of renegade Indians that killed some settlers last year. Tried to follow them, but the snow stopped us.” Looking at Jake he said, ‘‘You look mighty Indian to me, so we will just follow you and see this so-called ranch.”

“My name is Jake Andersen. My father’s name was Jake Andersen. We live in this country.”

‘‘Well, I don’t know any Jake Andersen. For all I know you’re one of the Indians

that helped kill those people up north. And besides, who is this white woman?” Anne responded quickly:

“I am Jake’s wife, and he IS Jake Andersen’s son.”

“White slut doin’ Indian levin’,” muttered the sergeant.

“No, Jake,” said Anne in Ute when she saw him stiffen, and Jake noticed that the Indian guide looked up quickly in recognition of the Ute language. He relaxed, but would the momentary lapse by the guide.

They began moving the cattle into the valley while the soldiers merely sat and watched. When the last cow had moved through the entrance, Jake began moving the barrier into place.

‘‘Wait a minute until we get through there,” shouted the Lieutenant, and again the soldiers simply moved into the valley and did nothing. Finally, the whole group moved up the valley until they found the cabin where they stopped and sat watching. For Jake and Anne it had been a long day.

Little Squirrel had been working on the hides and meat from the hunt. She was so glad to see Jake and Anne that she fairly danced, but at the sight of the soldiers, she withdrew into silence.

‘‘Well now, who is the squaw? Is she one of your wives?” the Lieutenant asked Jake. Anne responded quickly:

‘‘She is my cook, Lieutenant. Why do you ask?”

‘‘No reason ma’am. Just curious is all,” he replied slyly. Anne began to dislike him totally.

“If you plan to stay here tonight, I will show you where to stay,” Jake offered.

‘‘We are perfectly able to pick our own camp MR. Andersen. We don’t need your help.” And now it was Anne’s turn to bristle:

‘‘Lieutenant, this is our home. If you don’t understand, we will decide where you camp and where you make your mess.” And now it was time for the Lieutenant to back down from the white woman’s sharp response.

“My apologies for now to you ma’am. You are right of course. Sergeant, follow this man to a campsite,” he said somewhat taken back. Jake led the men to a site along the creek that was neither the best nor the worst. They would have water, and would have to walk to get wood for their fires. The sergeant grunted and immediately began giving orders for the establishment of a camp.

Jake returned not only to the cabin, but to a meal to suit a king—or at least a chief. There was roast buffalo hump, squash and corn from Little Squirrel’s fields. It was more than Jake had imagined, and as he ate he asked Little Squirrel if she knew where Little Bear had gone. She responded in Ute so that nothing could be heard by the soldiers, and told him that she did not know where he had gone, but was confident that he had found a good spot to hide. Unfortunately, he

had hardly started eating and talking to her when the sergeant appeared at the edge of the fire where they were eating.

“Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but me’n some ’o the men wuz wonderin’ if ye’d sell us some ‘o that meat ye got hangin’ there? We ain’t had nuthin’ but salt pork an’ hard tack goin’ on two weeks now, an’—well—we’uns sure would ’preciate a bit ’o fresh meat.”

“Little Squirrel, get one of the hind parts of the buffalo for the sergeant,” said Jake in Ute. ‘‘You can have this without pay White Man. This is my home, and the meat cannot be bought.”

“Ah thank yuh, sir. We’ll not be botherin’ yuh more,” and with that he disappeared. The discussion around Jake’s fire was resumed and carried on in a low voice when the soldiers had retired to their camp.

‘‘You are sure Little Bear has gone to a good place?” queried Jake.

“Yes. Last night they removed everything and went into the mountains to some secret place. He will return when the soldiers are gone,” replied Little Squirrel.

‘‘The boy is well?”

‘‘There was some fever and lots of pain, but I gave them medicine, and they will take care of him.”

“Is his tipi cared for so the soldiers will not wonder who lives there?”

‘‘I have taken all things from it and brushed away the tracks. The meat of the buffalo has been placed inside. It is a place for meat.”

“Good. You have done well. We will tell the soldiers when they ask in the morning. Anne, your words to the soldiers were good, and I am thankful, but my heart is sad that the soldiers spoke badly to you.”

“Jake, you must understand that this is my home too, and I have nothing to be ashamed of. I’m just sorry they came to cause trouble, and I hope we get rid of them soon,” she said.

“We will see tomorrow,” he answered.

In the morning, Jake completed his ride around the Valley and was returning to the cabin before the soldiers began the day. The quiet of the Valley was broken by the strident bugle call that awakened the soldiers.

“What a strange way to live, awakening only when the horn was sounded, walking quickly around and standing stiffly in lines while their leaders yell at them,” thought Jake. He had seen it all before, but it never failed to puzzle and amuse him. “Ah, well,” he thought. ‘‘Every man has his own ways.” And he went to the fire to eat the food that Little Squirrel had prepared for the morning meal. When they finished, they simply waited to see what the soldiers would do. They did not wait long. In a short time there was more shouting and some of the soldiers saddled their horses and rode out in various directions in small groups. The Indian scouts rode with some of the groups while the officers waited at the

camp, and Jake knew they were looking for signs of other inhabitants of the Valley. Some of the soldiers set off in parties on foot, but the officers continued to drink coffee while staying at the camp and lounging in the tents. Jake waited until noon with the two women, and then decided it was time to start working. He had no sooner started than the mounted searchers began filtering back into camp.

After considerable loud talk and much pointing, the Lieutenant and some of the searchers walked toward the cabin. Jake and Anne moved to meet them before they reached the house. Frowning a bit at being neatly cut off: the Lieutenant prefaced his question with:

‘‘Well, my men have been unable to find anyone else around, and I have a very strong feeling that it is not true. I am not convinced that it is true. Either you are what you say, or you are a clever liar.” Then he continued while ignoring Jake’s quick flush and Anne’s tightened lips. ‘‘There are some questions about this whole setup that needs answering. If this is your wife, breed, who does the squaw belong to?” he demanded. Anne answered stiffly.

“She doesn’t BELONG to anyone. She is my friend and she is the cook here,” said Anne.

“Strange friend, don’t you think lady? Kinda’ like this Indian husband of yours isn’t she?” He would not look at Anne, but rather looked and talked directly to Jake in an effort to see if anger was growing in him. Anne noticed that the Walker at Jake’s side was not tied down as it usually was, and quick worry jumped into her throat.

‘‘My choice of husband and friends is not really your concern, now is it? We have told you there are no renegades here and your men have found none. What

more do you want?” she replied stiffly.

‘‘Well, for one thing you could give some proof. You claim that this is your land. How do we know that? You got a deed?”

“As a matter of fact Lieutenant,we do have one of the best. If you will follow my husband and me, I would be glad to show it to you.” When the whole group began to follow her, she said sharply:

“Just you, Lieutenant. I don’t want all of these—people in my home if you don’t mind.” The Lieutenant waved the rest back with a smirk and followed Anne into the cabin. Jake was one step behind him. Inside, Anne pointed to the skin on the wall and said, “That is the proof that this land was given to my husband after driving a war party of Crows away.”

‘‘That’s not a deed,” the officer sneered. ‘‘Where’s the signature? Where’s the seal? You can’t prove anything with that piece of hide.” At that point Jake interrupted.

“The sign at the end belongs to Strong Bull. No Ute, no Shoshone, no Arapahoe, no Crow would question if Strong Bull is an honorable man, and no one can question his honor or they will have to fight him and his people. They have given their word.”

“Lieutenant, don’t underestimate these people. This land had been theirs for a long time. They do not give it up easily. Even now, they are watching what is happening here,” said Anne.

“Hah! The army can handle these savages. Just let them try something, but that’s for another time. For now, how do you explain the tipi in the mountain near here?” This time Jake answered.

“I lived in the tipi the first year I was here while we built this log house. Now we store the meat for the winter there.”

“I thought you Indians dried and smoked your meat.” Again the insulting comment, and Jake replied.

“We will in time.”

“Lieutenant, don’t fergit the horses,” added on of the soldiers.

“Ah yes. Thank you, corporal. You have a fine herd of horses MISTER Andersen. Where did you get them? Steal them?” Again the direct threat and accusation came.

“They are the horses of my grandfather and father and the children of the horses of my grandfather and father. They are mine and we did not steal them.”

“That’s a matter for the courts to decide. We will see, Mister Andersen, and we will consider this whole mess and consult the law. Before that we consider taking you with us so that we don’t have to come back here if you are guilty.”

“Do not consider taking me or coming back here, Lieutenant. This is my home, and we have done nothing wrong. You will not be welcome again.”

“Are you threatening me, Indian. I represent the United States Army, and I can do what I feel is necessary,” shouted the Lieutenant.

“Even so,” replied Jake. “You are not welcome here, and you will be treated as an enemy.”

“You can’t—,” and at that point, the Crow scout approached saying:

“White Chief, there are many Indians in the hills. They are coming. Utes. We must leave now.”

“Indians? What are you talking about? How many? What do they want? We can handle these savages,” shouted the Lieutenant.

“No, Lieutenant. There are many, many. It is time to go now,” said the Crow nervously.

“Get back to the camp. We will decide this now. I do not want to be forced out.” And they hurried back to their camp. Jake’s heart leaped when he looked up at the rim of the Valley and saw the brief flashes of motion as mounted men moved along the rim. When he looked toward the upper Valley and saw a stately line of warriors stretching across the Valley and moving slowly down toward the cabin,

his mouth creased in a broad grin. In the middle of the line, Strong Bull rode forward in all the dignity befitting a leader of the Utes.

By the time the line reached the army camp, Jake had ed them. Strong Bull wasted no time in confronting the Lieutenant.

“Soldier. What are you doing here. This is the land we have given White Bear here. It was given to us by the paper of the White Grandfather’s people many years ago. You do not belong here. Go now.” Jake translated the words and then switched to Arapahoe to tell Strong Bull that the scout knew the words of the Utes. Strong Bull gave no sign that he had heard, but Jake knew he would watch the scout carefully. Looking back to the soldiers, Jake could see that the Lieutenant suddenly realized the seriousness of his position.

“Chief, we have just finished our business and were getting ready to leave,” he lied smoothly. “But we will be back,” he added in a final show of defiance. “Do not come again, soldier,” Strong Bull replied. “This land is set aside. You! Crow dog. Go back with your master. Do not lead these people here again or we will send our young men to find you.” The scout did not reply, but Jake knew he had heard the warning when he saw him turn his horse and then stop. The whole thing ended when the Lieutenant turned and shouted to the sergeant to:

‘‘Prepare to move out.”

“Yas Sir,” and in the short time it took them to pack and load all of their camp, the Utes sat directly in front of them and waited for them to leave. The Lieutenant led the small troop out of the valley less than an hour later with the sergeant bringing up the rear, but before he left, he stopped at the cabin where Jake was sitting mounted.

“I’m right sorry for the trouble we caused. The Lootnent was wrong, an’ Ah’ll do me best to make sure it doesn’t happen agin. But fust Ah’m asking two favers.”

‘‘What is it white man?” Jake replied.

‘‘Wal, Ah’d like to shake yer hand in friendship an’ then Ah wuz wonderin’ if ye could spare a bit more o’ that buffalo meat?” Jake laughed out loud as he shook the soldier’s hand and called to Little Squirrel:

‘‘Bring more of the meat for the soldier,” and she brought another bundle to tie behind his saddle. “Soldier,” added Jake. “When you come in peace, you are welcome, but do not bring the Lieutenant again.”

“Ah’ll do me best, sir, an’ good health to ye.” With that he turned and retreated toward the departing column.

In all, Jake had learned a valuable lesson. There was more to be gained with the hand of friendship than a direct fight. A fight would have to be reserved for the last resort, but need not be the first reaction. The lesson was further reinforced by Strong Bull’s words around the fire later that night when he told him that Little Bear had found them and told them of the soldiers coming, and then he said:

“White Bear! We cannot make the soldiers go away much longer. Even now the white men came in greater numbers to this land. Soon they will cover this land

and the buffalo will be gone, and we must die. You must grow strong to take care of yourself. You have chosen the right path, and our ways must part.”

“Yes, Strong Bull, I can see it, but it is not easy sometimes. when the time is short, you are welcome here,” replied Jake.

“It is good, my brother. I also tell you that you should marry the white woman. She will make a good wife for you.”

“But maybe she doesn’t want to marry me. Maybe I should look at the women in your tribe.”

“No, White Bear, she will marry you. Little Squirrel has said so. It is better that you marry the white woman.” Jake squirmed inwardly at the direct gaze of the older warrior, and finally shrugged.

“We will see.” He followed Strong Bull, talking as they walked to his horse about when he could expect from Little Bear and when they would see each other again. They finally reached the horse and Strong Bull mounted reaching down and grasping Jake’s shoulder he said:

“Be strong, White Bear, until we come again.”

“You are welcome here. My heart is glad when you come.” And Jake did, indeed, feel a lump in his throat as the older warrior rode away. He watched until his friend disappeared into the trees on the north slope of the Valley, and he felt

very sad. The thought that he might not see this noble man again weighed heavy on his heart.

Chapter 18

The morning after Strong Bull’s departure, Jake arose before dawn and slipped from the cabin. He saddled one of the mares and rode to a point down the Valley where the ground sloped upward toward the north to the highest point on the Valley rim. As the sun topped the mountains behind him, he rode through the trees. In the growing light of the morning, he noticed the blanket of wild flowers of all types that covered the ground in the small openings in the trees. The brilliant orange paint brush, yellow mountain sunflower, purple clusters and tiny white blossoms all pleased him immensely as the sunlight grew stronger and stronger. A rabbit hopped quickly across one of the clearings and froze at the edge as if it had suddenly sensed a predator waiting on the other side. Probably a coyote, Jake decided, and all the while an unseen squirrel and a crow perched in the dead tree along the path he had chosen announced his progress with their sharp bark and dry cawing. It was a good day in this land of his, and he was happy and proud.

When he reached the top of the high point, he stopped the horse in the shelter of a lone pine while he looked out over the vast stretch of the valley of the Bear River. Nothing moved except a small herd of buffalo barely visible in the distance. The purple morning mist was disappearing under the rays of the sun, and he could see at least twenty miles in all directions. There was no sign of the blue coated soldiers. They must have ridden hard to get away from the Valley. It was good. Maybe they would stay away for a while, but in the back of his mind was a worry about what needed to be done to further his title for the land in case they came back.

Jake searched the valley for more than a half hour before he was fully satisfied that no danger was contained in the big valley. It was a ritual that he would continue every day he was in his Valley for the rest of his life. Only when he was absent would this task be given to the others of his family as he had begun to

consider the other inhabitants.

The days of the red leaves turned to yellow, and still the days were warm. Jake had slipped from his blankets before the sun rose, but this morning a new thing was about to happen. Anne had been aware of these early morning departures for a couple of weeks. This morning she too arose and dressed to follow him. He was just mounting as she emerged from the cabin. Jake frowned slightly, and asked:

‘‘What is it? Why do you come?”

“I want to go with you,” she responded.

“It is early for you to go. Besides, I like this time of day,” he replied. Jake shrugged in embarrassment and confusion as to how to respond to this most unfeminine approach. Finally, he said, “As you wish, but hurry.” He made no move to help her as she saddled her horse. Rather, he sat fidgeting as if she were somehow imposing on him. When she was mounted and ready, he led off at a brisk pace, which did not daunt the girl at all. She chattered gaily about many things as they rode along in the gray pre-dawn light. Finally, when they reached the slope up to the rim of the Valley, Jake said sharply and somewhat pompously,

‘‘Be quiet woman. We must be careful.”

“But why? What are looking for?” she asked

“We look for those who would do us harm, and we must not let them know where we are.” Chastened and taken aback, the girl responded:

“I’m sorry, Jake. I’ll be quiet.” Shoulders stiff and head held high as one who had won the battle, Jake led the way up the slope. Despite his experience Jake was again showing his youth. Despite her silence, Anne did not miss the beauty of the ride. She abandoned the control of her horse to follow the lead of Jake and his horse.

When they reached the top of the ridge, Anne watched closely as Jake carefully scanned the surrounding area. She was suddenly humbled by what he was doing. Her very welfare depended on the care with which he scouted the big valley and its surroundings. She sat quietly and waited for the long moments his gaze swept carefully back and forth. Finally, he turned and smiled,

“We will have no visitors from the valley today.” The young people chatted gaily now as they turned and led their horses down the side of the mountain. About half way down Jake stopped and pointed to a nearby tree. “Look, there in the tree!” It was a brilliant blue bird, and he added, ‘‘It is the bird of these mountains.” Excitedly, Anne grabbed his hand and added:

‘‘Oh, Jake, it is so beautiful.” When the bird flitted away into the trees, she was still clinging tightly to his hand and continued to do so as they walked the rest of the way down. It left Jake with a series of conflicting emotions. He was pleased by the warmth and softness of her hand, but he was also embarrassed and worried that his acquiescence would be taken as a weakness. He finally decided he was more pleased than embarrassed and hoped that it would happen again.

The morning rides to the lookout continued as the days lengthened into summer. Anne rode with Jake at every opportunity available, only now there was a

difference. Their talks had become more personal as they shared hopes and dreams of the future. Anne already knew what her feelings were for Jake and what her dreams for the two of them were. However, Jake’s affection grew to love for Anne at a slower pace, but grow it did. It was after one of the rides that he decided that Strong Bull had been right. He wanted this woman for his wife. The next day as they were returning from the morning ride, he blurted out the question:

“Anne, I would have you to be my wife. Will you?” Startled to the point of speechlessness, she could only stare at Jake who suddenly became confused and embarrassed. Finally, her face broke into a huge smile and she nearly shouted:

“Oh yes, Jake. I will.”

‘‘Good,’’ he replied. ‘‘It is settled then.”

“I’m so happy, Jake. We must start planning the wedding. When can we have it?”

‘Wedding?” he replied, completely puzzled by the question. ‘What are you talking about? Is it like we Indians do? If you are talking about a church wedding with a minister like my father talked about, there is a problem? When he told about the talk he had with a preacher to give a wedding, he had a very big problem because he wanted to marry my mother who was an Indian. Besides we don’t have either a preacher or a place called a church.”

“But of course we must have a wedding. We must have a preacher, and our friends can be here for a wedding. My mother told me about her wedding many

times, and I want ours to be like hers,” Anne explained.

“But I told you that we have no preacher. There is no white medicine man in this country,” Jake responded.

“Yes there is. Don’t you that Callahan told us about one that lived by the trading post,” continued Anne.

“Yes, he spoke of such a man, but he said he was a drunken fool,” said Jake.

“But, Jake, if that’s all we can find, can’t we at least have him marry us?” asked Anne.

“This means much to you doesn’t it?” Jake finally answered.

‘‘Yes, Jake. I want it to be right. I would like to have the preacher come here and give us the wedding, but if we must only go to him, at least I want to do that.” She moved her horse close to his and gripped his hand tightly.

Small Bear and his family had moved back into the Valley shortly after Strong Bull’s departure. His time had since then been spent in taking care of his son, hunting and taking care of the horses and cattle as much as his time would permit. His time for hunting all shrunk as the season progressed and the need for more grass grew despite the fact that his son had improved greatly. It was now time to move the horses and cattle to the valleys to the south for better grazing. Small Bear and his family said they would need to take the herds to these remote

areas. Jake, however, was reluctant to send them to the area where they had been attacked by the Crows, but he and Little Bear discussed the question and finally agreed to move out to the area. Jake agreed that he would help get them on their way, and then he would return to the Valley to prepare for the wedding trip. He would take six of the cows and four of the horses to trade for needed goods at the Callahan post.

Everything went as planned. At the end of the third day, Jake was back in the Valley with the cows and horses selected for trade, and the needed equipment was packed for the trip to Callahan’s post. Anne did not mention her disappointment over not having the preacher come to the Valley or having anyone accompany them, but she did spend a long time talking to Little Squirrel.

The following morning they set out for the Bear River leading the horses and driving the cows ahead of them. The early difficulties of driving cattle fresh off the pasture were resolved by the middle of the day as the areas familiar to the cows fell far behind them. They camped that night along the river about 10 miles from their home.

There had been no sign of anyone during the travel, but Jake took no chances. Using all of the skills ed on by his father. The campsite backed up against the river with a screen of trees on the open side toward the River. Their sleeping robes were placed far enough removed from the fire that early detection by anyone approaching the campsite would not see them easily. Jake had learned his lessons well.

It was nearing the end of the fourth day when the couple drove the cattle into the cleared space in front of the trading post. Jake had been marveling at what Callahan had accomplished for many minutes as they approached the post. A large log structure with an attached set of rooms had been erected on the site in the loop of the river where Jake an Callahan had stayed with the trappers the previous spring. On one side a pole corral had been built and two slovenly

looking men were making desultory efforts at setting posts for an expansion. Further on, in a larger pasture a few scrawny cows grazed near four tipis set amidst the trees.

As the couple approached the large, log building, Callahan himself emerged from the building and with a hearty shout, he greeting them.

“Well now, if it ain’t me good friend Jake an’ the purtiest gal in the whole country.” But it was a different Callahan that Jake saw. This one had gained considerable weight and his face was puffed and flushed. He was wearing a broad cloth suit with white shirt, highly polished boots and a felt hat. An entirely different air was portrayed than in his days as a trapper.

“We have come to trade,” said Jake cautiously. Something about the man’s air made him cautious.

“Good. Good. An’ a fine lot o’ stock ye have there. Come on in. Ah’ll have me men here take care o’ the stock an’ we can rest an’ have a bit to eat.” Jake and Anne dismounted and followed the tracker into the building while one of the men who had been building the corral took horses and cows to the pasture.

The room they entered was large with low ceiling and walls lined with goods.

“How has this man got all these things?” wondered Jake. There was not time to look at everything because Callahan continued through the main room to the living quarters in back. The room he led them to was furnished with large chairs, hides on the walls and floor and a cozy dining table in the center. On one side of the room a table was set up as a desk for conducting private business. Jake was

impressed, but not favorably.

“Well now, have a seat and let’s be havin’ a drink. Ah’ll git Morning Star over here shortly with some food,” ventured Callahan.

“Where is Morning Star? We have not seen her,” commented Jake.

“Oh she’s livin’ over in one of the tipi’s. She comes to cook an’ take care O’ me things when I need her. But let’s talk about you two. What is it ye’ve been doin’? Why did ye come?” asked Callahan. Anne spoke before Jake had a chance.

“We’ve come to be married soon, and we want to find the preacher you told us about.”

“Ahh—I see,” Callahan said softly. “Well now. The man ye’re lookin’ for lives in a hut a coupla’ miles down the river, but I’m not sure he’s a real preacher. He’s more like a lazy drunk to my mind. Maybe Ah kin help ye in this thing ye’re wantin’ to do.” As he talked, he was busy pouring whiskey into three glasses. Jake noticed that Callahan showed obvious anticipation as he went about the task of filling the glasses, but his hands were shaking and spilling small amounts of the liquor as he poured. Once done, he offered a glass to both Jake and Anne.

“Here ye go me lad. It’s on me,” he said.

“Thank you, but I do not drink the white man’s firewater. My father has warned

me about it,” responded Jake. Anne merely shook her head, and carefully examined her shoes. Callahan quickly frowned slightly, shrugged and said quickly:

“Suit yerself. Ah’ll just be havin’ one meself.” That said he lifted one of the glasses and saluted the couple with: “To yer health then,” and he poured about half of a glass down his throat. Smacking his lips in appreciation, he said: “Now then, let’s be getting’ on with the problem, but first we’ll be needin’ somethin’ to eat. Jake, me boy, would ye be doin’ me a favor an’ go over to the lodge behind me house an’ fetch that lazy Morning Star to fix some food? Anne can stay here an’ rest.”

“Morning Star is in the lodge?” Jake asked in puzzlement. How could the man’s wife not be in his house? What about his daughter?

“Of course,” replied Callahan without explanation. Jake looked at Anne and saw that she too, had realized that something was wrong. She had also noticed that as Callahan continued to drink, his gaze returned to her more and more in a disturbing way. Despite her concern, she nodded to Jake, and he rose and walked stiffly from the room.

Once Jake reached the outside, he gratefully took a deep breath of fresh air and walked rapidly to the tipis in the pasture. He found Morning Star sitting quietly in the third tipi.

“Haugh, sister! My heart is glad that I see you.”

“My heart is glad too. I saw you come with the white woman, but I could not

greet you,” she responded.

“Why could you not greet us? We have not seen you for many suns,” he commented.

“The white man does not want us to approach those who come to trade. I am wanted only in his house of trees when he is hungry or when he wishes to have it cleaned,” she replied.

“What? What are you saying? You are his wife. We must talk of this thing later, but now I want to go back to Anne. I am worried that something bad will happen. Come with me.” Morning Star rose slowly and picked up her daughter almost like an old woman. On the way back she left the child with one of the other Indian women.

The room that Jake and Morning Star entered was heavy with tension. Anne sat rigidly gripping the arms of her chair so tightly that her knuckles were showing whitely. Her face was pale and drawn with a hint of tears in her eyes. Callahan stood in front of the table that served as a desk pouring whiskey into one of the glasses. The three glasses had been emptied while Jake was gone. When Jake and Morning Star entered, he turned and snarled:

“Git to the kitchen and fix us some food, woman,” and she scurried quickly from the room. When Jake moved to Anne, she shook her head slightly and then fixed her gaze on the floor. Puzzled, Jake decided that his best course was to wait and see what had happened, but his worry had him ready to fight anyone if it was necessary.

Callahan continued his drinking while the food was being prepared, and reached a stage where his movements were extremely uncertain, his speech slurred and was inconsistent. Twice he left the room to berate Morning Star about her slowness and each time his shouts were punctuated with curses. During his absence Jake tried to talk to Anne, but she stopped him with the comment,

“I want to talk about it later, but I won’t stay in this house tonight.” All of this added to Jake’s confusion and the growing fear and anger.

Finally, the food was ready, and the three sat down to eat. Callahan had grown increasingly sullen and withdrawn. By the time they began eating, he had fallen into muttering darkly and managed to spill more food that he ate. At one point, he burst forth with:

“Dirty redskin slut. The only thing she knows is makin’this filthy stew. Shoulda got rid o’ her long ago.” Jake stiffened in more anger, and he and Ann ate hurriedly without comment. When she nodded her head, they both rose, and Jake announced:

“We will go now, but first I would trade for the cows I have brought. How much will you give for them?” Callahan burst out loudly:

“No! No, lad. Ye’ll stay in the spare room tonight. Anne can stay in the other room. Ye’re me guest ye know.” Anne’s eyes widened at the suggestion, and she gave a quick shake of her head. Jake responded firmly:

“No Callahan. We will go now, but first I need to trade my cattle for goods.” After more loud, nearly incoherent argument, Callahan’s temper got the best of

him, and he shouted:

“All right then, ye ungrateful whelp. Let’s be done wi’ it. Ye have six cows, what is it ye’re needin’?” As Jake ticked off the items, Callahan staggered about the trade room gathering items and throwing them in the middle of the floor. Anne busied herself with packing the things together while Jake stood to one side and watched the man carefully. Finally, Callahan stumbled into the counter, nearly fell and shouted:

“There. That’s all ye’ll be gittin. Where’sthat dirty squaw. Ah’ll be needin’ her,” and he stumbled off to look for Morning Star. Jake made no comment, but he did note that there had been no mention of the horses. He was glad. He did not want to be responsible for turning his beloved horses to the drunken man. He and Anne quickly gathered the goods and placed it in their packs in preparation for travel. Throughout their time to pack, they could hear Callahan stumbling around and kicking doors and furniture all the while cursing and calling Morning Star.

When everything was packed, they got the horses, loaded them and started toward the river. As they ed the tipis, there was no sign of Morning Star. It was only then that Anne began to talk about what had happened during Jake’s absence.

“It was awful Jake. He’s changed so much that it’s hard to believe. He wanted me to marry him. Told me I would become his queen. That he had rich partners in St. Louis, and that I would have money and clothes and a palace to live in. I told him no and that I loved you and would marry you. When I said it, he got very angry and said you were nothing but a savage, and your father was a murderer and a renegade. He said that if I married an Indian I was nothing but a slut and would deserve to live like a squaw.” Now tears were forming in her eyes, and Jake angrily turned his horse to go back to the trading post.

“No, Jake. He would like to kill you just to force me to marry him. I don’t want to risk a fight now. Please, let us go on with our wedding.” Jake’s face was dark with rage and blood, but he finally nodded and started down river again. He did, however, comment:

“The sun will go down soon, but it will come again tomorrow, and one day this man must pay for what he has said.” Anne knew the matter was not ended. The pride of both of the men would not let that happen.

They stopped about a mile down river in a small cluster of trees and made camp in the near dark of early evening. Jake avoided making a fire. Rather they tethered the horses deep in the trees and spread their robes a short distance away. Jake was nearly asleep when he heard Anne say softly:

“Jake, I need to be with you tonight. I’m scared and I need to know you are there.” When she slipped into his robes, his love grew and he held her tight for a very long time.

Jake arose well before dawn and quickly packed and loaded their robes and goods. They were mounted and riding down river before sunrise. Neither of them spoke or caused unnecessary noise as they made their way through the dark. When they had traveled about two miles along the winding stream, Jake stopped abruptly causing the horses to bunch together in a jumbling mass.

“What is it, Jake?” hissed Anne.

“Smoke,” he whispered back. By now he was getting the horses untangled, and he handed the reins of his horse and the lead rope for the packhorses to her. At the same time he held up his hand, palm forward to tell her she was to remain where she was. He then slipped forward on foot as silently as a shadow in the gray light of pre-dawn. He had traveled no more than 50 yards through the timber and brush following the smell of smoke before he reached the edge of the river. From the edge of the timber, he could dimly see the dim outline of a small low roofed cabin with the roof covered with sod.

Jake stepped quietly back into the trees and returned to the spot where Anne waited. His sudden appearance at her side nearly caused her to release the horses and send her own plunging ahead in fright. Fortunately, Jake’s hand was already on her horse’s bridle. When she saw who was there, she gave a loud sigh of relief and slipped from the saddle. He very quietly told her of the cabin, and that they would wait for more light before approaching it. It would not be wise for strangers to ride up to anyone’s cabin while dark enough that the inhabitants had difficulty in seeing who they were. They waited while the horses grew increasingly restive.

Finally, the sun reached the top of the mountains to the east, and they mounted for the short ride to the cabin. When they reached the edge of the river and began crossing, a hound near the front of the cabin began to bay. The rough door opened a small amount and a rifle barrel appeared through the opening, but quickly disappeared as a figure came through the door.

“Glory be! Lookit that June,” the man shouted to the dog. “It’s a white woman way out hyar. Who be ye? Whut are ye doin’ away out in this place?” Both man and dog came toward the riders.

The man was not what Jake had expected. He was neither drunk nor dirty and disheveled. True, he wore homespun woolen pants and a shirt of odd colors with heavy, plain boots. His head was covered by a battered, brown hat, but his beard

and hair showed signs of having been cared for.

“We look for a white holy man. We want to be married,” replied Jake. The man scratched his head and thought for a moment before he said:

“Wal now, Ah’m not fer shore ’bout thet, but come on in an’ set a spell whilst we talk on it.” Jake and Anne dismounted, but when she started to unload the horses, Jake stopped her:

“No, Anne. We cannot stay long. We must be ready to go very soon or we may run into the Callahan people.” He simply tethered the animals to nearby trees. When they entered the cabin, Jake was surprised again. A fireplace had been built, but there was no other furniture except a crude stool and a small, rough table. Sleeping robes lay on the dirt floor in the corner and another corner was used to hold a litter of pups with their mother behind a log. However,the place was neat and the dirt floor was smooth and hard packed. Obviously, the man was not as Callahan had said. He immediately set about heating and preparing a brew of parched barley.

“Sorry Ah ain’t got no coffee, but the prices that feller at thet tradin’ post wants is so high thet Ah cain’t buy none,” said the man.

“We are grateful for your kindness, and the coffee does not matter. We want to know if you will marry us,” Jake responded.

“Yes, Mister. I would like it to be done proper,” Anne added.

“Wal noaw, Ah ain’t rightly no real preacher. Ah know mah Bible, an’ Ah done some talkin’ ’bout it back in Tennessee, but Ah ain’t never had no hands laid on or nuthin’ like thet.” Anne looked disconsolately at him and then Jake who fidgeted and began to speak was cut off by her with:

“It’s alright, Jake. I understand we don’t have a choice, but I was just hoping—,” and then, “Can’t you read the words from the Bible, and marry us anyway? It would be alright.”

“Oh shore. Ah kin do it. Ah seen a lot of ’em back home, but jest wanted ye tuh know thet the Lord has called me, but ain’t nobody made me no official preacher,” the man responded.

“It is good. We would ask that you do this thing,” commented Jake. It was settled. The man turned the small table to face the young couple, and dug a large, leather bound Bible from the packs stacked along one wall. Opening the Bible and placing it on the table, he then announced:

“Mah name is Joe Blass, an’ whut be yer names?”

“Anne Wilkins.”

“Jake Andersen.” The preacher began speaking about the words in the Bible from books called Genesis, Luke and Matthew, and as he talked Jake noticed two things. First, he was not looking in the book, and second, his whole manner of speaking had changed. He no longer used the language of the poor and uneducated, but spoke in the poetic English of the Middle Ages, although Jake was not aware of the basis for his speech. Jake could not know that the man

spoke from memory of words given by others reading from the Bible.

After what seemed a long time to Jake, Joe reached the part about their vows and finally pronounced them man and wife. Jake’s sense of relief was clear, and Anne smiled broadly.

“Can you give us a paper showing that we are married?” asked Anne.

“Feared ye was gonna ask that. Ah cain’t read ’er write, but iffn yuh kin write down the words, Ah’ll put mah sign on it,” he offered. With that he tore a nearly blank page from the Bible and handed it to Anne while he went to get a quill pen and mix up a bit of charcoal with hot water to serve as ink. Anne was able to scratch out a rough version of the marriage license that her mother had showed her, and that she had memorized so long ago. At the bottom she placed the names:

Jacob Andersen

Anne Andersen

Joseph Blass.

She and Jake both signed by their names, and Joe put his X with a small picture of a blue bellflower beside it. While Anne was surprised that Joe could not read or write, with all he had done she felt much better about the “wedding”.

“Thar now. Ah hope the Lord gives yuh a happy an’ long life,” concluded Joe, and Jake responded:

“We thank you, holy man, and we will welcome you in our Valley whenever you come.”

“Aw, it weren’t nuthin’. Made me feel real proud tub do it.”

“Now we must go quickly. I think Callahan will be here soon to catch us,” said Jake.

“The trader? What’s he doin’ here? And why is he after yuh?” queried Joe.

“When he wakes up, he will be very angry leaving there last night when he was drunk. He very well may come looking for us to take Anne away from me and possibly shoot me,” responded Jake. “We must go or there will be trouble.”

“Hah! Looks tub me like we could give him more’n he could handle. Ah ain’t worried,” added Joe.

“As it is now, we do not wish to kill this man. He was our friend,” responded Jake.

“Yuh wuz fren’s with him? He ain’t an easy man, but Ah reckon ye’re right. Ye’d

best git movin’. He’s come here a few times tuh give trouble, but so far Ah been able tuh hold out. ‘For ye go though, ah’s like tub give the lady a present for her weddin’.” He walked to the corner and picked up one of the flop eared, re-boned hound pups and handed him to Anne. The bitch tried to follow anxiously, but a sharp word from Joe sent her back to the corner.

“He’s beautiful. Look, Jake,” and even he had to smile at the squirming bundle of fur.

“Again, we are in need to repay you,” said Jake.

“Naw, Ah’d jest have trouble feedin’ ’im anyway,” Joe replied in an embarrassed tone.

Jake led the small cavalcade out of the spot in front of the cabin at a fast pace. He immediately began working his way southward using the many draws and low hills in the valley to their advantage. If Callahan decided to follow them, he would undoubtedly follow the shortest route along the river itself. If Jake could get far enough away to the south, they might miss meeting him. When they reached the Bear River on its southward course, Jake pushed even harder. He had already decided where they would camp for the night, and he wanted to be sure they had time to make preparations for any trouble that came their way.

The camp they made was located at the base of a sharp rock wall with the river 50 yards from it. The area was fringed by trees, but open grass was near the river. Jake wanted to have the open area near to the trail next to the river to be sure he had a clear view of the access to the camp. He placed the sleeping robes behind the trees at the furthest point from the river, and loaded all the guns he had. He tethered the horses on the grass to the south of the trees. Finally, he made a fire and cooked their first hot meal since the previous night. Overall,

Jake had been right in his preparation, and he finished his work by putting out the fire to avoid smoke that could be seen.

He saw them coming when they were less than a mile away, and the sun was just an hour above the western mountains. There were three of them coming with the bulky figure of Callahan in the lead. Jake rose quickly and checked the load in Anne’s rifle. He then led her to a spot behind two large trees and told her:

“Remain very quiet, but be ready and if trouble comes, shoot the one on the left. I will take care of the other two.”

“Oh Jake, do you think they will want to shoot us? Please be careful. I would die if anything happened on this day,” she cried.

“Don’t worry about yourself. It is me that they are anxious to kill. I will be careful, but you must stay behind the trees because I’m sure that you are the one that Callahan wants to take back with him,” responded Jake.

He took his position near the fire with the sun at his back and a clear view in all directions. Just before Callahan started across the river, Jake checked the loads in his Walker and placed it back gently in his holster. He was ready.

The three men rode directly to a point in front of Jake and spread out. Both of Callahan’s helpers had their rifles ready, while Callahan held his loosely across his lap.

“So there ye are, ye dirty Injun. Where’s the girl an’ where is that filthy squaw o’ mine?” he demanded.

“I know nothing of your wife, and the girl is not your concern,” responded Jake quietly.

“Who are you to be tellin’ me what my bizzness is? Ye’re nothin’ but a theivin’ murderer. Ye need to be shot on the spot after all the killin’ you have done. Ye’d better be tellin’ me where they are and give me the goods ye stole.”

“I stole nothing, and the woman is now my wife,” Jake quietly pointed out. Callahan had become more and more agitated as the discussion continued. Now he was nearly screaming as he said:

“Liar! If you think thet stupid, drunken scum would marry ye and Anne, you’re the stupid savage I thought.” His fury had reached a high point, and he screamed “Shoot him ye fools.” Both men started to raise the rifles, but Jake’s pistol appeared in his hand and a rifle spoke from the trees behind him. His shot took the man in the middle of his body, and he crumpled from the horse without a word. Jake shifted his pistol to Callahan, but not without noting that the man’s horse to the left had also fallen and thrown its rider causing him to lose his rifle. Callahan sat without moving with his mouth open in surprise. First, his mind had sunk to the point that he had not ed how fast Jake was, and secondly, he was not aware that Anne was in the trees with a rifle she would use. Both items sobered him significantly.

Callahan’ eyes shifted nervously and his hand clenched on the rifle as if he was ready to try something. Jake’s voice stopped him:

“Do not try, Callahan You will your friend,” said Jake. The desperate look in the traders eyes moved back and forth, but there was enough reason left in his mind that he knew he would lose if he tried. Instead he began cursing the remaining man.

“Stupid, worthless fool. Get up and get on Ed’s horse. We must get out of here. There’ll be another day, Jake me boy.”

“No, Callahan, don’t try it again. You never were as good in the trees as I am,” and when the man started to mount to ride away, he added, “Wait. Take your friend with you or I will shoot your horses and you can walk.” The man reluctantly dismounted, loaded the body of the dead man across the saddle in front of him, and began riding back across the river. Callahan turned and followed him with Jake’s eyes glued to his every move. When he reached a point where he felt he was out of pistol range, he took one more opportunity to vent his anger. He turned in the saddle and fired at Jake. The shot was wide of the mark and kicked up dust six feet to the right of him. Jake remained standing in the spot by the dead fire, and watched as Callahan kicked the horse into motion in pursuit of his helper. While the shot was harmless, it did show the depth of his emotion.

Jake and Anne camped as planned that night. The only difference was that Jake slept lightly, awakening often to walk quietly around the camp listening for unusual sounds. He heard nothing. Apparently the death of Callahan’s hired hand had reduced the odds to the point where he didn’t want to risk more in attacking Jake and Anne. On the other hand, Anne had been very depressed by the shot she had been forced to take, and as she slept, her dreams would bring her abruptly awake with tears in her eyes. Since Anne had never showed herself during the encounter, there was the double uncertainty of whether someone else was with them for Callahan to worry about. However, none of these things was a comfort to Anne.

In the morning, Jake took his time preparing for the day’s ride. They would choose their path carefully to avoid spots where an ambush could still be made by the enemy. Once mounted and riding south, they kept to the higher ground away from the river, and used the brush and trees to screen their movement. Twice during the day Jake had the feeling that they were being followed. Late in the afternoon, he was sure he had spotted movement in the trees a quarter mile on their back trail.

“Anne, when we enter the trees, just ahead, keep the horses moving. Someone is following us, and I will circle behind them and we will see who comes,” commented Jake.

“Wh— Who do you think it is? Callahan?” stuttered Anne.

“No. Callahan would have more people with him than I have seen. He would not be so quiet either. We will see,” Jake said. Anne moved ahead as she had been told, and a short distance into the trees, Jake turned off the trail and started a wide swing through the trees. When he reached the edge of the trees near where they had entered, he remained hidden. He did not have long to wait before a figure emerged from the opposite side of the clearing they had crossed and began making a hurried detour around the edge of the clearing to remain close to the shelter of the trees. As the figure moved closer, Jake’s face creased into a smile. It was Morning Star, and she showed the effects of keeping the pace needed to stay near Jake and Anne and carry her nine month old son as well.

Jake remained quietly where he was until Morning Star found their trail and moved after the woman. He almost laughed aloud when Morning Star saw his tracks leading off into the trees and she stopped in confusion. Then she whirled at the sound of hooves and prepared to run.

“Haugh, my sister! You have come far, and you look tired. Would you ride with us?”

“Yes, brother. I wish to return to my people and get away from the white man. I grow weary of his beatings and the work of cleaning after he has had too much firewater,” she responded quietly and pleased that he was there. Jake reached down and helped her mount behind him. As they started up the trail after Anne, Jake could feel the sobs of relief against his back that wracked her body as she clung tightly to him. Throughout the entire time the child did not so much as whimper.

“You have been very sad Morning Star. Did the white man hurt you?” he asked.

“Yes. When the firewater was in him, he would beat me and force me to his bed. Other times he would make me stay away from his house. He was ashamed of us,” she responded.

“Truly, the man has changed much,” Jake commented. They reached a spot at the edge of the trees where Anne waited. When Jake dismounted and helped Morning Star to the ground, he began to rearrange the loads on the pack horses so that Morning Star could ride one. While he was busy with the task, the two women talked quietly, and at one time Jake saw Anne place her arms around Morning Star and held her tight.

When Jake had the task finished, all three mounted and resumed the ride. By now it was nearly dark, but Jake decided to ride on in hopes of out distancing any pursuing men. At one time as they topped a rise, and when he looked back, he could see the flicker of a campfire in the distance. There were people behind them. He decided to continue a little longer.

They made a cold camp on a bluff overlooking the river in total darkness. They had parched corn, jerked venison and shared a can of peaches from the trading post. Morning Star ate eagerly, savoring the food she had missed in her march to Jake and Anne.

Jake was up and ready to move well before dawn. During the night, he had decided that they would push ahead as rapidly as possible to stay ahead of the pursuers.

They rode out at a fast pace without attempting to stay under cover, and Jake maintained the pace throughout the day. They had one long day of travel left, but if he could maintain the pace, they would reach the Valley by early afternoon the next day. They made a cold camp again that night. Jake could see the fatigue in both women, but he knew it would be foolish, and maybe fatal to delay.

The next day was a repeat of the previous one, except that they reached the Valley shortly after noon. When Jake replaced the barrier of the mouth of the Valley he heaved a sigh of relief. Now he was on his territory, and he had no doubts that he could defend this land against Callahan with the help of the rest of his people. Anne announced when they dismounted at the cabin:

“Morning Star will stay here, Jake. If she doesn’t, she feels that she will be rejected by her tribe because the child was born of a white man.”

“Yes, it is good,” and the subject was not raised again. With daylight remaining, Jake saddled a fresh horse and rode to his lookout point where he saw a cloud of dust and four figures riding along the river in the Bear Valley. He watched for a very long time and saw that the figures were receding. Callahan must have

decided that it was not wise to enter the Valley, and was on his way back. It was over—for now.

Chapter 19

The puppy that had ridden in Anne’s saddlebag for four days grew apace with the work of the months after the wedding. Little Squirrel and Morning Star had settled into a regular routine. The puppy now named Red, on the other hand, made every effort to make sure the routine did not happen. His first encounter had been with the female coyote and her two pups who stayed in the vicinity of the cabin. The mother of the pups had soundly trounced Red on their first meeting as a way to establish her dominance. The dominance grew steadily less as Red’s size increased. It was not long before the coyote made no further attempt to fight him.

The one thing that remained constant for Red was his love for two fellow beings. The first of these was Anne. She could rarely move from the cabin without being followed by the dog. The other was the mare, Christi, on whom he had ridden for four days. Anne’s association with the dog varied from affection to training, and it was not long before he followed simple orders without exception. Anne’s delight at each new accomplishment was unbounded, and even occasional discipline did nothing to alter Red’s devotion. With the horse, it was different. They had started with games of tag initiated by the dog that often ended on a serious note when the horse got tired. Christi would lower her head and bare her teeth in an effort to do bodily harm because of the long playing. Red soon learned when enough was enough. Out of all of this came a friendship as equals that would last a lifetime. When Red was not with Anne or waiting at the cabin he could be found with the horse. He had not yet fully developed the love of hunting that would come later.

Jake on the other hand had other worries. He had the summer’s mowing to do. When the grass reached knee high, he began the process. He hitched a team to the mower as Callahan had showed him and began cutting the grass. His methods were original and did not follow the ordered patterns of farmers

elsewhere. He simply moved from one patch of tall grass to the next. He left no neat patterns but the method was effective.

The next step was one that Jake hated. Gathering the hay in bunches and then hauling it in the wagon to the stacks was not an enjoyable task. He spent much of the hot, mid-summer days at the task stubbornly persisting. His only relief was the occasional trip to visit Little Bear. At times, Anne would accompany him, and on others he made the trip alone.

Jake’s trips were very enjoyable. He loved to spend hours riding among the horses and cattle to see the growth and development of the young animals. Calves that had stumbled around his valley amidst melting snow were now becoming self sufficient, frisky juveniles. Unlike Little Bear, he had come to accept the “white man’s buffalo”. Little Bear on the other hand, remained firm in his disdain for these stupid, helpless animals. He would take good care of them out of respect for his brother’s plan, but he would never like them.

“I long to hunt the buffalo, White Bear, but these stupid cows must be watched at all times,” he commented.

“Yes, I too wish I did not have to pick up the grass for the cows to eat, but if we walk the white man’s way, it must be. We will hunt the sweet meat of the buffalo when the summer has gone,” promised Jake.

His promise was kept. At the end of summer when frost could be found on the grass in the mornings, and ice rimmed the streams and ponds, Jake ed Little Bear to bring the cattle and horses back to their Valley.

“Haugh, Little Bear. You look well and you smile,” commented Jake.

“I smile because soon I can forget about these white man cows. I long to hunt and be free again, even when I know that I must help them again when the big snows come. You look well too. Manito has been good to you, and a wife has made you fatter I see,” and Little Bear chuckled at the thought. Jake, on the other hand, grinned sheepishly and tried to off the obvious joke with the comment:

“Yes, my brother, even the cows get fat in the summer, and the food has been good.” Little Bear did not respond. He simply glanced out of the comer of his eyes knowingly and continued to chuckle. Jake finally said, “If your family is well, we can start gathering the herds in the morning.”

“Hah!” snorted Little Bear. “They are as anxious to be rid of these stinking cows, even if they are sick, as I am. We will do it.” Now it was Jake’s turn to chuckle inwardly as he thought of the change in attitude that would take place next winter during the long cold period when the buffalo and deer meat ran short. Then the meat of these “stinking cows” would not be so undesirable. But, he said nothing, because he too, shared his brother’s preference for the meat of the wild animals Manito had herded into these mountains.

Little Bear’s family was, indeed well despite his comment about the cows. BirdWho-Sings-In-The-Morning-Sun, or Meadowlark as the white men would have said, was full of smiles and solicitous care for him as Jake dismounted in front of their tipi. She took the reins of his horse and began to lead him away to care for him. Little Wolf, his son stood shyly and nodded his head when Jake greeted him, and then edged away to help his mother with the horse. Skunk Eyes, the daughter of Deer Woman, was less shy. She grabbed the fringe on Jake’s leggings and pulled him along as she demanded that he see the puppies that one of their dogs had produced. Little Bear smiled and waited patiently until the ritual of showing the treasures had gone far enough. Then he sent his daughter

scurrying after her mother with a sharp command.

“My uncle is big, isn’t he mother?” said Little Wolf, for indeed he was taller and broader in the shoulders than Little Bear.

“It is true, my son, but he is true in his love and respect for your father. This you must ,” his mother responded.

“Yes, mother, but he is a big warrior, and I want to be close to him,” said the son.

The night ed quickly, and in the morning Jake and Little Bear rode out to make the gathering of the herds. It turned out to be an easier job than either of them thought. While the cattle had become wary of men, they had remained in bunches that were easily spotted and driven together. Whether for protection or simply a herding instinct, it did not matter to Jake and Little Bear. They took advantage of the situation and within two days of continuous riding had the herd bunched in a small canyon where they could easily be contained until time to move them to their Valley.

The horses were even easier to gather. Little Bear had worked with them throughout the summer, and many were already trained to ride and respond to command. His task had been made much easier by Red Eagle’s total dominance of the herd. It was only necessary to be able to work with Red Eagle to control the rest. It was a fleeting thing. As the herd grew larger, it would be increasingly difficult for the stallion to maintain his dominance, but for now, the two men were equally as willing to take advantage of the situation as they had been with the cattle.

On the third night, the quickness with which they had completed gathering the herd prompted Jake to say:

“If Morning Bird can watch the cows and horses, why don’t we go to the Big Bear Valley and shoot buffalo for two suns? We can get both robes and meat for the winter. I have seen the herds as I came to your camp. and it win be easy to find them.”

“Ahhh, it is good. It has been much more quiet this year. Meadowlark will have no trouble, and we can do the things of our fathers. It is good.” Little Bear made no secret of his pleasure at the suggestion, and immediately began giving instructions to Meadowlark and Deer Woman. He also assured them that he felt that no enemy would come this year. Packs and weapons were readied, horses were tethered for riding and packing, and food was prepared. It was agreed that they would be gone for three days.

The brothers led the pack horses out of camps shortly after sunrise the next day. By noon, they had reached the main valley and could see the dust cloud of a herd of buffalo. It was not a large cloud, but such things rarely occurred in these mountains anymore.

Little Bear took charge. They would circle the herd and approach them from downwind. Walking on the off-side of their horses they could approach the herd and shoot from behind those horses. The plan worked exceptionally well. They were able to approach to a point within 50 yards of the herd before some of the lead bulls began to become nervous. Mounting quickly, Jake and Little Bear jumped their horses into a run that brought them to the side of the herd in an instant. Jake shot directly into a spot immediately behind the shoulder of a fat young cow, and Little Bears first arrow nearly ed through the body of a young bull. Then it was a chase. Reloading, Jake raced his horse beside the now panicked herd. His second shot brought a steady stream of blood from the side of a large bull while Little Bear plunged two arrows into another young bull. Little

Bear’s kill dropped quickly, but Jake’s continued to run for another quarter mile spouting blood before it plunged to the ground scattering dirt in all directions.

Little Bear smiled broadly as Jake rode back to him. Once again he began to brag about the use of bow and arrows, and it was obviousthat he worked very hard to show the advantage he had with this weapon.

“The arrows of our fathers once again killed better than that white man’s gun,” he said.

“As I said before, sometimes it is true, brother,” responded Jake. “But the gun has its use as you well know from last year.” They walked their horses back to pick up the pack horses at a leisurely pace not that the buffalo herd was gone and the killing done. They would take their time butchering the fallen animals stopping only to taste some of the delicacies as they always did. With four animals killed they would have enough meat to keep them and the pack horses busy. By nightfall, they had managed to cut the carcasses into manageable chunks and prepared the packs. They were much earlier than had happened the year before. Yet, they would start their trip back to the camp in the morning when they had better light and control of their horses. For the night they would enjoy the taste of freshly roasted buffalo hump and finished packing. They also spent a couple of hours by the fire talking about the days in Beaver Valley with their father and mother and the days since.

Jake rose early in the morning and began to build a fire, but Little Bear rose and stretched, announcing:

“We better go now, Jake, or we may not reach the camp as we should. I had a dream last night that worried me. I’m not sure what it was, but it seems now that there is a problem at the camp with my family. I just don’t know, but if

something happens again, I will be crazy.” He was right. After loading the packhorses, which took nearly three hours when the sun was high, they finally trailed out of camp headed eastward. They kept the horses moving briskly throughout the day and finally reached the head of the valley where the cattle were about an hour before dark.

“Something is wrong just as I dreamed, brother. I hear the cows. They are no longer in the place of holding. Also, the birds are silent. My heart is dropping to my stomach. I am afraid someone is here,” said Little Bear quiet.

“If that is true, we must go quietly and quickly again. Tie the packhorses here in the trees to keep them hidden,” responded Jake. “I am sorry if it is true, but we will look carefully before we ride in.” They split to each side of the valley in the trees again with Little Bear making his way through the trees on the right side as Jake had done before.

When Jake reached the edge of the trees at the clearing where the tipi sat he stopped abruptly. The scene that greeted his eyes would never be forgotten. Meadowlark was tied to a tree with Deer Woman, and the two children were tied on the ground near the entrance to the tipi. An Indian was standing near the women with a knife held in one hand in preparation for taking their lives, but was asking questions that could not be understood at Jake’s distance. He drew his Walker in his hand and his first shot broke the warrior’s back and the second went through the man’s skull. He was dead when he hit the ground.

A distance away, Little Bear’s rifle barked once and the warrior sitting his horse near the horse herd fell immediately. Little Bear did not hesitate. He spurred his horse in a plunging run toward the tipi and his wife. Jake had already dismounted by the women, and started cutting the ropes that held them. Both women were shocked to the point that tears were running from their eyes. As Jake finished freeing them, Little Bear dropped from his horse, his face contorted and his voice screaming in fear and anxiety as he shouted:

“It has happened again. We are getting more and more enemies here. I will kill all these Utes,” he rasped savagely.

“Utes? Why do you say Utes?” said Jake.

“Yes, it is Utes. I can see that it is true,” hissed Little Bear. “See their dress? See their weapons? These are definitely Utes.”

“But the Utes are my friends. We have fought together. Helped each other. It cannot be,” claimed Jake.

“They may be your friends, but they have attacked us like the Crows before. I know not where the rest of them are, but I promise that I will find them if there are more here,” responded Little Bear. His plan to look for more of the Utes was slowed when his son and the young girl both began to cry and called to him for help to remove the ropes. In response, he put his gun down and moved over with his knife to help them. That was the biggest mistake of the day. It was at that point that three Utes broke from the trees near the upper end of the valley where they had been looking for more horses. As they galloped past them, they fired at the group, but not one of the bullets hit, Jake’s response was first shock, then anger:

“I will get these enemies who are doing things wrong for my friends in the Ute tribe. Let us get them,” he shouted as he jumped to the saddle and sent his horse after them. Little Bear had to get his rifle and go to his horse which left him slightly behind Jake. Whatever had happened, he was thankful that this time his family was not hurt. His son and wife were now safe, but in his mind he made a commitment that he would not leave them again unless someone was with them

to protect them.

Jake and Little Bear’s pursuit of the Utes settled into a long term chase, but they were confident because their buffalo runners were much better than the smaller Ute ponies. Second, they knew that their resolve would not let them give up. By the time they had reached the Bear River, they were sure of the outcome. They were close enough and Jake drew his rifle and shot one of them who fell without a move. He was certainly dead. The other two horses were had begun to falter, and they were gained rapidly. Both of them fired a shot as the light was beginning to fade. They need not have worried. One of the Utes left dropped without a move and the second one was hit but grabbed the neck of his horse to stay on its back.

As the Ute’s mount turned upstream to head back toward the mountains and home, the horse entered a patch of sand along the river and fell heavily pitching the rider over his neck. When Jake rode up at a trot, the warrior was floundering in the sand trying to reach the rifle he had dropped. Jake saw that he had been shot through the stomach.

“Why did you come here to do these things? You have attacked our people and tried to steal our horses. What were you doing?” demanded Jake.

“We—we—we heard—of your—horses. We are—from Sanpete,— but now we —have made big—mistake,” moaned the warrior as he clutched his stomach and the blood stain spread. The look of pleading and anguish on his face had no effect on Jake. As the warrior slid his hand toward the rifle again, he pulled the trigger on his rifle and shot him through the same leg that Little Bear’s son had suffered the previous year. The warrior writhed in pain as he tried to hold first his stomach and now the wounded leg. Jake brought the warrior’s pony to him and said:

“I will help you to your pony. If you can, tell the others in your tribe who wish to steal from me that they too will receive the same welcome. You cannot attack my family without attacking me.” There was no reply from the Ute. He held tightly to the mane of his pony with one hand and to his stomach with the other. His leg dangled uselessly while the other was kept to the side of the pony. Jake released the pony and slapped its rump as it walked tiredly off. He hoped the warrior carried his message back before he died. There was no question in his mind that these five young braves had acted on their own. Certainly, his standing with Strong Bull and the tribe was such that they would not act against him like these of another tribe did. However, the wilder, younger of his tribe needed to be warned anyway.

When Jake and Little Bear returned to the camp, they found Meadowlark and Deer Woman both holding the children and talking softly to them. After the second attack for them, they were all more upset than could be believed. Both women turned to the two men and began criticizing them for leaving them to be attacked. The guilty feeling was there, but neither of them would it that had been wrong. Little Bear finally told them to be quiet and said:

“We understand the problem you have faced, and have agreed that we will not leave you alone again. It will be necessary for us to bring up a new plan because our land is being attacked by more and more people. Let us come up with better ideas and more protection. We have heard, and now be quiet.” With that the two women stopped their complaining and began putting things together for the night.

The next day Jake and Little Bear worked to gather the cattle again. Meadowlark and Deer Woman finished preparations for the return to Jake’s Valley. It was clear that Little Bear’s heart was not in the work. His preoccupation with the attacks on his wife and son was easy to see, and at one point he simply ran back to camp to see for himself that things were not going badly again. Jake continued to work steadily, and by nightfall, all of the cattle were back together. Or so he thought. Almost exhausted, he and Little Bear returned to camp and ate a hurried

meal in anticipation of a nights sleep before the morning drive to the Bear Valley. It was not to be. A far off bawling of cattle could be heard as they finished eating. Within minutes, they could hear the restless stirring of the gathered herd. Muttering under his breath, Jake resaddled his horse, mounted and rode off in the direction of the bawling. Little Bear followed also muttering about the stupidity of white man’s cows. They stopped frequently to follow the source to the sounds. Jake had already decided that the source was a cow that had been separated from its calf. The bawling was too persistent and plaintive to be anything else.

As the two riders approached the sound, it suddenly stopped. The cow had detected their approach and was now silent. In the dark it was going to be difficult to find an animal that wild. It was Little Bear that solved the problem. He dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to Jake. He began a slow, careful stalk of the spot where the last sounds appeared to have originated. Moving carefully and silently he worked his way back and forth as he searched. Suddenly, he could smell the cow. No. Not THE cow. Several cows. Now he knew where they were, and he let Jake know with the sound of a hunting owl. Jake moved up with the horses and Little Bear mounted. He made a circling motion with his right arm and the two riders separated as they moved around their quarry.

It turned out that there were six cows and steers in the bunch that Jake and Little Bear drove from cover. They were not hard to drive. In their frightened and confused state, they readily headed for the main herd with the bawling cow in the lead. However, by now the stars of the Big Dipper showed that it was past midnight. Both men were having trouble staying awake. When they finally reached camp, both men staggered from their horses and dropped onto their bedrolls. Meadowlark quietly took care of the horses, and then moved back to the side of her son.

The sun rose without any sign of life in camp. It was the sound of the restless herd beginning to move in search of food that brought life to the camp. Jake

awoke with a start in broad daylight. He struggled from his sleeping robes and moved to get the fire started. Little Bear sat up sheepishly and called for Meadowlark to awaken and start the day’s preparations for travel. Despite all of the previous day’s preparation, it still required two hours for the brothers to regather the cattle and form the herd for travel. There would not be much progress today, but at least they would give the herds their first lessons of trailing.

It was a frustrating day, but they expected no more. The cattle required constant hazing and chasing to keep them in a bunch and moving in the right direction. By nightfall Jake’s horse was staggering from the day’s effort. Jake noticed, however, that some improvement had taken place, and his hopes for the coming day rose. Three days later, Jake and Little Bear drove the last of the herd through the entrance to his Valley. His hopes had not been achieved. It had been a constant struggle to keep the herd together and heading in one direction. Now, both men and their horses were dog tired, but they had reached their goal. If the hay gathered during the summer held out, they would not have to do this task again until the green leaves appeared after the winter snows. Jake pulled the barriers across the opening, breathed a sigh of relief and headed for the cabin.

Chapter 20

The days of autumn treated the small family well during the ensuing season. The days were warm and the snows held back until early December. The hay would be conserved, and unless an unusually wet, cold winter took place, they would have little problems feeding the animals. The only dark cloud on the horizon involved Little Bear’s son and family. His son’s leg had healed, but the shattered bone resulted in a leg that was shorter than the other, and resulted in a constant limp. He would be plagued for the rest of his life with a serious limp and the bestowal of the name Walks With Limp. In later years the name would be shortened to Limpy by the whites. Little Bear was constantly reminded of the days when it had happened, and it added to the worry about future attacks such as had happened this year to his family again.

In all, Jake noticed that Little Bear had a big worry, and he agreed with the problem. One evening when he was riding back from checking his horse and cattle herds, he noticed that Little Bear was sitting by the campfire outside his tipi. He dismounted and took the saddle and bridle off the horse and let it run out to the rest of the horses. He then walked over to the fire and sat down across from Little Bear.

“It has been another good fall, but you look to be worried,” said Jake.

“I worry very much about the attacks we have had, and I wonder what we can do,” responded Little Bear. “I know that there are many white men coming into this country, and they are putting pressure on the tribes who have been here since the beginning. As a consequence, the tribes seem to be going in all directions and conducting fights to protect their rights, but I am afraid that they are going to be defeated by the whites. These whites are very greedy about the gold, the land

and everything here. I feel very much in danger. If you and I are killed,what will happen to our families?”

“I, too, worry about this thing,” commented Jake. “What is it that we can do to protect our rights given us by the Ute tribe? We must be able to not only protect our families, but to make sure that this land is ours and our families. We must find a way to make sure that these things are known and kept as our rights.”

“I do not know what can be done, but I do agree that you must find something to do to make this land a solid place for us,” replied Little Bear. When Jake left, he still had no ideas about the steps to be taken, and in the days that followed over a long period he thought about it frequently with no solution coming. He not only worried, but became increasingly saddened.

At the end of the first days in December, a series of snowstorms moved across the area. Each was separated by two to three days and accompanied by heavy snow and cold temperatures. The result was that by the end of the third week, the snow was a couple of feet deep in the valley. Now the struggle began on the part of man and animal to push the snow from the dried grass underneath, and parceling out the hay began. Despite these problems, Little Bear came to Jake on the fifth day before Christmas with the announcement:

“My wife has reminded me of the white man’s feast to his God for the birth of a Son. I will go to Bear valley to get fresh meat from the buffalo and elk. I do not wish to eat the meat of the white man’s cows. We will eat meat to make us strong.”

“It is good. I too, would like to go and get some of that meat to eat, but I must stay to take care of the cattle with so much snow. May your medicine be good,” and with Jake’s comment the matter was actually settled. Neither brother could

foresee that the result of the hunting would change their lives forever.

Jake worked steadily by himself to keep the animals fed for the next two days. It was near dark on the second day after Little Bear’s departure, and a light snow was falling. Jake was clearing snow along the edge of the trees about a half mile below the cabin when he noticed moving, dark spots toward the mouth of the Valley. He stopped working and moved into the shelter of the trees to watch. Within minutes, the larger spot turned into a horse and rider flanked on either side by smaller—dogs?—No.—Wait.— They were gripping each side of the horse and stumbling as they struggled to keep up. A few more moments, and Jake could recognize Little Bear riding with eyes fixed straight ahead, totally ignoring the man on either side of him as if they were no more than cattle being led back to the herd. As they came closer, Jake saw that they were white men and knew immediately why Little Bear’s attitude was as displayed. He stepped from the trees and shouted:

“Haugh, brother. It looks like you have caught some strays. They do not look much like the meat of buffaloes or elk that you sought.”

“Stupid white men,” grumbled Little Bear. “They were caught in the snow without food or fire, and ready to die. I should have left them to the god’s, but our father’s words came to me as they begged for help.”

“Well, we all have our weak times. What will you do with them?” asked Jake.

“Give them food and take them back to the valley. You cannot just kill such weak rabbits,” responded Little Bear. Jake was amazed. He knew very well of his brothers hatred for white men and everything about them. This act of kindness was out of character. He held his tongue, however, and turned his attention to the two men who had collapsed in heaps near the horse in near total

exhaustion. They were dressed in rough, homespun clothes with cloth overcoats and broad brimmed flat crowned hats in the style of the miners that inhabited the hills to the south. Not much could be seen of their appearance because of the thickness and length of their beards and hair. All in all, the amount and type of clothing and equipment was totally inadequate for travel in the snow and cold of these mountains. Jake sighed:

“Ah well, if we can work to feed the white man’s cattle, we can do no less for these fools,” and he walked over and untied his horse and led it back. Little Bear dismounted and helped load both men on Jake’s horse. One of the men nearly fell off because his frost-bitten hands would not grip the saddle. Jake mounted behind Little Bear, and they turned the horses toward the cabin.

When the door of the cabin was opened and the two men were led in to the fireplace. Anne let out a startled cry and then froze in shock as both of them collapsed before the fire. Before anything could be said or done they lapsed in to a semi-conscious stupor during which they groaned as the warmth came to them.

“Jake, who are these men? What are they doing here? We must help them,” she stammered.

“Let them rest and warm up. They are two strays that Little Bear found in the snow. We will feed them when they awaken. Then we will see if they are badly hurt,” responded Jake.

“But their hands are gray. They look frozen, and their feet may be frozen. Are there any other people in the valley? We must look,” added Anne.

“Little Bear has looked quite a bit. There are no others that he could find,” replied Jake.

“We—we must prepare some soup. They will need something warm to eat.” With that she sent Morning Star and Little Mouse to work. Both women looked with curiosity at the two men as they worked. Jake simply smiled. Given a choice of hunger, he would not choose soup.

The men did not remain asleep for long. As the warmth of the cabin crept into the bodies, they began to feel more of the intense pain from their frostbitten hands and feet. The smaller of the two men was the first to feel and more strongly express his hurt. He began by groaning softly continuously in his sleep with each ragged breath he took. Finally, he awoke with a gasp and sharp cry as the pain intensified. The man waved his hands and tried to rub them together which only made the pain worse. As he grimaced and bit his tongue to avoid crying out, Jake filled a bowl with lukewarm water and told him to put his hands in the bowl. Minutes later, the sequence of events occurred with his partner. In the ensuing days, both men would lose patches of skin and flesh on their hands, feet and faces. It would not be a pretty sight, but they were fortunate enough to avoid losing fingers and toes.

When the white men were given bowls of the thick beef soup that the women had prepared, they greedily attacked the food, ignoring the fact that it was too hot. The first bowls disappeared quickly in part due to the clumsiness of the frostbitten hands that resulted in soup dribbled over both men’s chests and laps. The second and third bowls were consumed as well, but each took more time as the hunger subsided. With the satisfaction of their physical needs and the warmth that invaded both of their bodies, fatigue once again overtook them and both fell asleep while holding their empty soup bowls. Jake took robes and threw them over both men and left them as they were on the floor of the cabin.

The second day before Christmas dawned with both of the strangers sleeping

soundly. Jake left the cabin to begin his feeding and watering chores once he had climbed the ridge and checked the valley. The cold temperatures had frozen the ice in the stream even thicker than previous days, and it was nearly two hours later before he finished chopping holes and spreading the hay. By the time he reached the cabin, Anne and the two women had breakfast going and the two men had begun to move around.

“You have slept well?” queried Jake.

“Shore have, an’ we thank ye fer gittin’ us otta the trouble we wuz in. ‘Fraid we wouldn’t av made that fer a while,” replied the smaller of the two. “Mah name’s Jim. Jim Nelson, an’ this hyar’s Hamm Oster,” he said.

“I am Jake Andersen and this is my wife Anne, and our friends Little Mouse and Morning Star. The man who found you was my brother, Little Bear,” answered Jake. “How did you come near this place?”

“Wal, we wuz workin’ in a mine down in tuh mountains south o’ here, and the feller whut owned it didn’t keer too much fer us, an’ Hamm here an’ me decided to head north fer the trail fur Califrony. Wal, we got caught by the snows an’ lost our hosses. Then we ran otta bullets an’ couldn’ git no more meat tuh eat. We wuz about tuh the end of the rope when thet Injun feller—Little Bear yuh say— found us. Sure am grateful tuh yuh fer thet, ain’t we, Hank?” explained Jim.

“Yup. We wuz gonners fer sure if yuh hadn’ helped us,” added the bigger of the two.

“We will eat now,” said Jake to cover his embarrassment at the open gratitude

and praise of the two. When they had finished the breakfast of fried beef and vegetables. Jake suddenly asked:

“What will you do now?”

“Ah—wal, Ah’m kinda skeereduv this country in this weather, but Ah reckon we need tuh git on toward thet fort we heerd ’bout tuh the north o’ hyar,” responded Jim. Jake nodded and replied:

“It is good. You may stay until you have recovered and the weather is better,” and Jake gave a sigh of relief. Little did he know that that these men would become a permanent part of his life.

Christmas Day came and Jake did his best to stay out of the way of the women who were bustling about making preparations for the “feast”. Even Little Bear’s wife had ed the others, and the chatter was constant and happy. Little Bear himself had showed up shortly after sunrise with two bundles containing buckskin hunting shirts as presents for Jake and Anne. They were beautifully beaded and decorated. They must have required many hours of work by Meadowlark and Deer Woman. It was an unusual expression of recognition by Little Bear of the white man’s religion and festival, but Jake knew it was more of an expression of his brother’s love for the family than respect for white man’s ways. He had stayed away from the cabin until now to avoid Jim and Hamm, but today he would ignore their presence.

Jim and Hamm had been moved to the spare tipi, and managed to clean themselves up and cut their hair and beards. It was good that they had, but it did little to improve their appearance. The frostbitten spots had turned an ugly gray and black, and Jake knew from experience that their skin would soon peel and make them look even more strange. The other thing that Jake noted with some

annoyance was the fact that Morning Star and Little Squirrel periodically disappeared with bowls of food to take to the white men. He was yet too young and inexperienced to realize that the lack of men in his Valley was the cause of a natural attraction that would grow.

By mid-afternoon everyone had gathered in the cabin, and more gifts were exchanged. Later, they all gathered to share the food that had been prepared. Much of the food was strange to Jake and his brother, but they ate and smiled to show their appreciation whether they liked the taste or not. They finished the day with a reading aloud of the story of the birth of the white man’s god from Anne’s book. Jake and Little Bear still had feeding and watering chores to do regardless of the fact that it was a feast day, and they hurried to do them.

Jim and Hamm were ready to leave for the tipi shortly after Jake returned to the cabin. Jake noticed tears in the corner of Jim’s eyes and Hamm avoided looking at him as Jim said,

“Ah shorely do thank yuh fer lettin’ us be part o’ yer Christmas. Ain’t done thet in a lot o’ years, since ah left home. In fact we—ah , thet is, it shore means a lot to us.”

Chapter 21

The days after Christmas remained free of heavy snows and travel in their Valley became easier. The work also decreased as it became easier for the cattle to forage for themselves. Jake knew it was a temporary thing, but he was willing to enjoy the rest when it came. Besides, it gave him more time for thought. One of the things he thought about was the fact that Jim and Hamm showed no signs of moving on. True, they had started to do some of the chores with the cattle and horses without being asked, but they had made no effort to travel to the fort as originally planned. Jake decided it was time to bring the matter to a head. His opportunity come the next morning when he met the two miners on the way to the creek.

‘Mornin’, Jake,” greeted Jim as Hamm nodded to him.

“It is a good day,” responded Jake. “The gods have given us much favor. Our animals are doing well, and the weather is good.”

“Yep. If this keeps up, Yuh’ll have a good bunch o’ calves and colts this year,” replied Jim.

“And it should be possible for you to travel to the fort as you planned. When do you want to go?” asked Jake. Jim immediately dropped his eyes and glanced at Hamm and shuffled his feet in embarrassment.

“Wal,—urn—thet is—ah—. We wuz wunderin.’ Looks lak yuh got a lot o’ work

here, an’ iffn the calf crop is as good as it ‘pears, wal, thar’ll be more work soon. We thought maybe yuh cud use some help, an’—wal—we’re willin’ to work to help, iffn we got a place tuh stay an’ some food. We like this place an’ iffn yer willin’, we’ll do our best. We jest don’t want tuh go back to those minin’ places agin.” It was Jake’s turn to hesitate. Did he really want these white men here? They had posed no threat to anyone, and they had shown a willingness to work. However, they were a change in the way his life ran, and his plan for the future. On the other hand, since they had caused no problem, it might be good to have them do some of the work. In that way he and Little Bear would be able to spend more time in looking for ways to insure that the land and the animals were theirs.

“I will think of this thing,” he responded cautiously. “You must know that I do not have white man’s money if that is what you want.” He wanted to talk with Anne and Little Bear first. He was not sure that he wanted to disrupt the way of life that had grown around his family, but the life in the land around him was certainly changing. Yet, the presence would certainly change his way of living, and these white men would be a disruption.

When he returned to the cabin, his first comment was:

“Anne,the white men wish to stay here and work. Is this a wise thing? Do you trust these two?” She did not answer. She knew the strength of his feelings about whites in general. She also knew that the work continued to grow as the herds grew, and the need for more living space continued. The two men had done nothing to indicate that they were a threat. In fact, Jim and Hamm had made themselves useful to a point where it would be hard to revert to the old ways. Anne decided to try to gain a better feeling for Jake’s attitude.

“I just don’t know, Jake. Don’t you trust them?” she asked.

“It is hard to trust any white man, even Callahan could not be trusted after I thought he was a good friend that was not against Indians like me. These men seem to be true, but I am worried that they may cause trouble if I am not here.”

“Well, Little Squirrel and Morning Sun seem to be attracted to them, and yet the men have not violated our trust,” she added.

“Yes, I have noticed that these two women take every opportunity to take food and clothing to them. It is a foolish thing they do, but it is not my action to judge,” Jake pointed out.

“Oh, Jake. Don’t be critical. The women are lonely, and these are the only men anywhere around. I’m sure they mean no harm.” Jake nodded and finally responded:

“Well, I am of the opinion that maybe I should let them stay, but I need to talk to Little Bear before I make the final opinion. However, if we agree and I let them stay and they make trouble, I will do whatever is necessary,” concluded Jake. Anne knew he was not making a threat. It was a promise, and this young man, her husband, had proven that he could keep his promises. She prayed that the white men would not make him keep that promise.

Later in the day, Jake paid a visit to the tipi of Little Bear, where he again posed the question. The response was not what he expected.

“Hah, brother, if these white men can chase after the cows when the grass becomes green, I will be happy. Then I can care for the horses and hunt as I wish. I will gladly give them the care of these stupid animals, and if they cause

trouble, we can kill them, but I have not seen any problems with them so far,” said Little Bear as he smiled. It was a blunt, direct approach to an easing of the work load, and Jake marveled at Little Bear’s confident appraisal and eagerness to get away from herding the cattle. He could only nod his head and say,

“We will try it, brother.” When he informed Jim and Hamm of the decision, they both broke into broad grins and thanked him profusely.

Now the work went forward in a different way. No longer did Jake assume the full responsibility for feeding and watering chores. These tasks could either be shared or taken over by Jim and Hamm. It became apparent that his agreement to have them work caused them to be willing to accept more work and even provide more ways to do these things. In addition, Jake was approached by the two whites with a request to be allowed to cut down enough trees to build a large, double cabin which would serve to house both of them. They also suggested that they enlarge the corrals and windbreaks. Jake agreed with the request without showing any emotion, but inwardly he was very pleased. He had often thought about the need for more buildings, but he did not relish the thought of more log construction. He would prefer to spend his time with the horses and cattle or out hunting.

On the other hand, Jim and Hamm rather rapidly demonstrated their preference for building. It seemed that the logs were cut and peeled in no time, and the rocks were laid for the foundation. The wall rose despite the variable weather, and the roof was completed within a matter of weeks from their first start. Jake smiled inwardly as the two men moved their meager belongings into the cabin by the beginning of the month of the snows. And a month of big snow it was.

The first major storm lasted for three days and left an equal number of feet of snow throughout the Valley. Little Bear had gone to the mountains the morning before the snow started, and had not returned. Jake had not been worried by the snow at first. He knew that his brother could take care of himself even if it meant

holing up in a snow cave. He and others worked steadily through the next day as the heavy, wet flakes continued to fall and the temperature dropped. As he entered the cabin at the end of the second day, he noticed that the wind was beginning to pick up and that combined with the colder temperatures made the cold harder to withstand.

“Has Little Bear come back?” asked Anne.

“No. I stopped at his tipi on the way and he has not returned,” he responded.

“Don’t you think we should do something to find or help him?” she asked.

“Little Bear can take care of himself,” he replied, but her questions added to the nagging doubts that he had begun to feel as darkness approached.

“Maybe we should go look,” she said quietly.

“We can do nothing in the dark, and the wind has begun to blow the snow. I will go in the morning if he is not back.” His decision had been made while he talked.

“I’ll go too,” she offered.

“No. The snow will be too much for easy travel. You must stay here and take care of things while I am gone,” he decided. She didn’t argue further, but in her

mind, she had decided to do what was necessary.

In the morning, the snow was deeper and wind even stronger. Jake dressed heavily and saddled one of the bigger horses, placed a buffalo robe and a small bundle of food in a pack on a second horse and prepared to leave. When Anne appeared at the door of the cabin dressed in her heavy clothes, he frowned.

“I can help, Jake. I want to go with you,” she pleaded.

“No Anne. You must stay here and make sure the cattle and horses are taken care of in this bad weather. Already some of the smaller ones are having trouble getting through the snow,” he answered.

“But Jake, I want to be with you.”

“It is a good thing, but not this time.”

“Oh Jake, be careful. Please be careful. I couldn’t stand it if something happened,” she sadly added.

“Do not worry. Just make sure all is well here,” and he turned quickly and headed up the Valley. First, however, he stopped at the cabin of Jim and Hamm. When he told them his plan, the response was:

“Don’t mean no disrespect, but thet snow’s purty deep. Don’t seem like a good

idee.”

“He is my brother. I must do what I can if he is having a problem. Just make sure the cattle are cared for and the women have wood for their fires,” Jake said.

“Yep. Well yuh be keerful. If we don’t see yuh soon, we’ll haf to try tuh find yuh,” Jim responded as Jake turned the horses and began pushing through the snow. Three hours later he reached the top of a ridge that would have still been in sight of the cabin if they had not had so much blowing snow. The going was very slow and the horses were tiring rapidly. Jake knew this land like the back of his hand, but with everything covered with deep snow and the fact that the wind blown snow obscuring his vision, he was having trouble maintaining his orientation. It was funny how he couldn’t judge distance well. He felt like he had traveled many miles, but the occasional glimpses of familiar spots and marks that he got between gusts of wind told him it really wasn’t very far at all. He did know that he was still on the trail that Little Bear had planned to use to get to his traps, but he was beginning to worry that he would not be able to go much further.

Jake kept pushing ahead up the ridge where the trail ran until he reached the spot where the ridge narrowed and dropped off into the trees sharply. He stopped and dismounted while he checked the narrow ridge he had to traverse. Enough snow had stuck to the top of the ridge to make it difficult as well. He decided that he would lead the horses across rather than risk slipping and falling into the deep drifts on either side. The horses were exhausted and refused to enter the narrow trail behind him. His efforts to get them moving cost him more energy than he thought. Now he began to falter and tire. Finally, he leaned against the lead horse to rest. Wait!

“What is that sound?” he muttered to himself. Between wind gusts, he had heard a high pitched wail.

“Must be a coyote,” but then, he decided against that idea. Coyotes stayed holed up in this kind of weather. “Maybe it was just the wind and the fact that I am tired,” he thought. No! There it was again, only longer this time. It was singing in the way of “Our People”. It was a death song and Jake smiled. It would not be needed this time. He took the horses back from the ridge and tied them loosely in the trees. Gathering the robe, pack cover and food, he started back along the top of the ridge. Near the far side of the narrow portion of the trail, he heard the singing again. It seemed to be coming from a mound of snow near the edge of the trees below him. Little Bear must be there.

Jake cautiously stepped off the trail and started angling down the slope. He had taken not more than half dozen steps when his feet slipped out from under him and he fell. Clinging desperately to the robe and supplies, he tumbled in a mass of snow the rest of the way. He lay for a few minutes at the edge of the trees taking stock to make sure he had no serious injuries. Finally satisfied, he gathered the materials and started plowing through the waist deep snow to the mound. The singing was still rising from the snowy hump. When reached the mound, he called out:

“Haugh, brother, it is too early to sing your song. I am here.”

“Go away spirit, my time has come,” said Little Bear.

“No, your family waits for you. It is not time for you to leave. We must to go them,” answered Jake.

“Are you real or does the wind blow this message? I have waited long and this cold is too much,” he quietly commented.

“Wait a little longer until I can reach you,” responded Jake as he scooped and kicked the snow aside. It seemed like he worked a long time before he encountered the blanket with a body under it. Actually, it was only a matter of minutes. On the far side of the blanket was a hard and unyielding lump. As Jake pulled the blanket back, he saw the back of a dead horse. Little Bear had fashioned a snow cave against the side of his fallen horse, and lay huddled alongside. When he looked up, Jake saw that he was nearly unconscious, but he still smiled weakly.

“It is good to see you brother. I fear that I broke a leg when my horse fell from the trail just as he did. I am not much use.”

“Don’t worry. I will make a fire and warm both of us,” replied Jake as he quickly spread the buffalo robe and wrapped his brother inside. First, he stamped the snow flat in the area around Little Bear. When that was done, he began breaking branches from the trees to make a fire. When he had a sizeable stack, he selected some of the smaller, dried twigs and pine cones, and got the fire going. Soon he had a hot, steady fire going, and he placed a pan from his food pouch filled with snow on the coals. As the snow melted, he added corn and venison jerky until he finally had a steaming pan of stew. This he took to Little Bear and began spooning it into his mouth. The combination of the warm food and the warmth of the fire building up in the robe seemed to revive Little Bear greatly.

“Ah, brother, if this is the hunting grounds of Manito, life is getting better,” he mused.

“We have not reached that ground yet. We have much to do yet. In the morning, we will climb the hill back to the horses. Rest now, “ said Jake.

“It will not be easy, White Bear. My leg has begun to hurt more now that it is getting warmer. I will not be able to climb in that snow,” answered Little Bear.

“We will find a way.” Jake got up and gathered more wood to keep the fire going and then huddled under the robe with Little Bear to keep warm. He slept fitfully and rose often to feed the fire. Little Bear also had trouble sleeping and moaned often when he did.

In the gray dawn Jake awoke to find the fire almost dead and the snow no longer falling. The wind still blew, but not nearly as strong as the night before. The temperature, however, had dropped dramatically. He arose and rekindled the fire, placing the pan full of snow back in the coals again. While he waited for the food to heat he worked steadily to enlarge the spot where he had first packed the snow. Once they had eaten, he moved into the trees and cut two slender pines with his belt hatchet to serve as poles. He cut one other smaller tree and trimmed it into a sharp, pointed staff back at the fire, he fashioned a small travois using branches from the firewood as cross pieces. He placed the buffalo robe on the travois and helped Little Bear to sit on the platform facing backward. He wrapped the blanket around his brother and placed the staff in his hands.

“You must use the staff to help us up the hill because it is so slippery and steep that I am afraid that I cannot handle it myself. When I stop pulling you or slip, push it to the ground to help hold so we don’t slip back down.”

“I will try, White Bear,” answered Little Bear. Jake placed one end of the travois’ poles on each shoulder and the straps made of thongs under each arm. Taking a deep breath, he started up the slope. He jammed each foot into the snow and packed it down to provide a toehold. Then he moved upward. Progress was agonizingly slow and frustrating. For each step upward he slid back down halfway. By the time he had reached a point a dozen feet above the spot of their camp, he was drenched with sweat and tiring rapidly. He was forced to lean forward until he was nearly crawling. He fought on.

Little Bear helped as much as he could, and at one point the whole travois tipped over and he cried out in pain. Each time Jake paused, he jammed the stick to the ground and hung on desperately. Despite his best efforts, he still slid part way back nearly every time.

“We cannot do it, brother. Leave me here and go back to get help,” he shouted.

“No, Little Bear. We will make it,” panted Jake. He lunged ahead again and made another couple of steps. He wasn’t sure how long they kept at it, but he was interrupted by a shout from above.

“Hey, thar boss, we’re here to hep’ yuh. Hang on a minute.” It was Jim standing on the narrow trail with Hamm beside him and Anne behind them. With a whoop, both men started down the slope, tumbled through the snow to the trees where Jake had started. Both men remained unharmed and got up to climb back where Jake was.

“Man, air we’uns glad tuh see yuh. We didn’t know what happened an’ Miz Anne wuz mitey worried. Hold on thar a little an’ we’ll git yuh offa thar,” Jim bubbled away. “Hamm, you git up the hill an’ tie them lassoos together. We’ll see iff’n we kin git them hosses tuh help some. No noaw Miz Anne you stay up thar. We’ll be done hyar purty quick an’ ain’t no use you gitten hurt comin’ down thet snow,” he babbled on as Anne approached the edge of the trail. Hamm worked his way up the slope by stamping out a zigzag trail through the snow and moving upward each time.

Not long after Hamm reached the top, the end of a rope came snaking down to Jake. He tied it to the harness between two travois poles and worked his way

down to the ends of the poles below Little Bear and grabbed one in each hand.

“Air yuh ready, boss?” shouted Hamm.

“Yes. Go slowly and I will try to steer the travois from here,” he shouted.

“Giddap, yuh lazy thang,”Hamm said as he prodded the horse. The rope tightened and Little Bear began moving up the slope. It was over, and Jake relaxed as he followed his brother up to the trail. Anne waited at the point on the ridge top where trail ed the trees again. She grabbed Jake when the little party reached the spot where she stood and clung fiercely to him.

“I’m so glad you’re alright. I—I didn’t know what to do or where to go, but we had to do something. I was so worried,” and she cried.

“We will be fine now, but only because of your help. I thank you from my heart. We need to get Little Bear home as soon as we can,” and he put his arm around Anne. Meadowlark was waiting when they finally arrived, and quickly took Little Bear to the tipi. Jake’s worries were over, and his love for Anne had grown quickly. He knew that Little Bear would get the care he needed without more help from him, but he also knew that Little Bear’s feelings about the two white men had jumped up.

When Jake had time to talk to Anne and reflect on what had happened, he was pleased with the major part involving Jim, Hamm and especially Anne. When Jim and Hamm had found that he had not returned, they had announced to Anne that they were going to look for him even though they did not know the area where he had gone. The fact that they would do such a thing despite the fact that

neither of them were experienced mountain people like Jake and Little Bear surprised both Anne and Jake by their quick response to go to his help. True, they were both good workers and skilled with their hands as shown by their cabin, but the skill did not include travel and life in the mountains in mid-winter. Maybe—just maybe—these men had the integrity and loyalty that Jake could trust, he mused. He would wait a bit longer before making a decision whether to send them away.

Chapter 22

Winter faded into spring, and the workload remained constant. Instead of the problems of feed and water, calving and foaling began. The three men were kept busy throughout the daylight hours caring for both cows and horses and their offspring. The increase in both horses and cattle over previous years now meant considerably more work. Here, Jim and Hamm showed a knowledge and experience of things that needed to be done. Their farm backgrounds became obvious.

It was also at this time that Jake learned things he had not known. One of these things was “pulling a calf”—the process of physically giving help to the cow in giving birth. Despite his experience with horses and buffalo, he was surprised when he rode up to Jim and Hamm and found Hamm with his hand and arm inserted in the cow’s uterus up to the elbow. He sat and watched as Hamm maneuvered the calf into position and then helped extract it.

“Why do you do this thing?” queried Jake when the cow had risen and began to clean the calf.

“Wal, iffn yuh don’t help in some cases, the critter’ll die while it’s tryin’ tuh be born,” responded Hamm.

“Yes, we have had some die like that in the time before this year. Probably because we did not know about this process, but they have still provided food.”

“Yup, but with this many cows, yuh’ll heva lot of them kind o’ calves tuh eat. ‘Sides, thar won’t be thet many tuh sell if we let urn die,” commented Jim.

“Sell? Who will buy the cattle? We can only trade at Callahan’s post, and he will not want to see me,” said Jake.

“Yup. Wal, we been thinkin’ bout thet,” ventured Jim. “We figger mabbe yuh should take all the cows whut don’t hev calves this year an’ gittum in good shape soon’s tuh grass gits green. Then take ’em to this tradin’ post an’ sell ’em. Insist on sellin’em or ye won’t leave ’em. Cain’t spect em to help build the herd, an’ there must be folks out thar whut needs em. Might even take some o’ the bulls what don’t make more calves than ye’d git anyway an’ sell them too,” explained Jim. Jake had to agree with the logic. He smiled inwardly at the realization that these men knew more than he had expected about the business of raising cattle. Then he ed his problems with Callahan.

“Your plan is good, but Callahan will not welcome me at his trading post.”

“We uns heerd ’bout that from Miz Anne, an’ we figger it might be best iffn we took the cows in. Mebbe even take a few horses, an’—wal—thet is we—ah—,” Jim looked at Hamm for help and seeing none was forthcoming lowered his eyes, took a deep breath and began again.

“Yuh see, me’n Hamm been talkin’ to Little Squirrel an’ Mornin’ Star, an—wal we’uns want tuh git married. Thet is ifn it’s alright with yuh,” he added quickly. Jake chuckled out loud and said:

“The women are not mine. They are free to do as they wish. But what will you

do? Where will you live, and why do you talk about this with your plans to sell the cattle?” commented Jake. Jim kicked at the rocks and kept his eyes lowered.

“We wuz hopin’we could stay here and work fer you. We uns wouldn’t need much place tuh live or much pay, an’ we figger we kin help purty good. Miz Anne wuz tellin’ us ’bout this preacher feller whut married you, an’ we sorta thot he might be willin’ tuh come an’ marry us. “ Jake was amazed that so much had gone on around him without being aware of it. His smile faded, and Jim broke in again,

“Don’t git me wrong. We uns don’t want tuh do nothin’ tuh cross yuh, but we shur would ‘preciate havin’ yuh say it’s alright.” Jake was silent for a long enough time that both men began to fidget nervously. Finally he smiled and said:

“I will do this thing, but you must that these women are of my people, even though they are not of my family, and this land is mine. If trouble comes to your houses or this land, you will solve it or leave here, or I will kill you.”

“Yes sir. We uns know thet, an’ we know we owe our lives tuh you. So thet ain’t no question ’bout us’ns doin’ whut you figger is best.”

“It is done,” agreed Jake.

The days ed quickly now, despite their increasing daylight hours. In the cabin there was a bustle of activity as Anne and the two women worked to prepare for the wedding. Although it would be many days before the wedding actually happened, the excitement raised by Anne’s description of weddings she had seen as a little girl spurred both of the prospective brides to

new and better plans. In the outside world, Jake and the two white men were kept busy for all of the daylight hours. There were now nearly 200 cows, calves and bulls. In addition, 96 horses and foals wandered in the upper reaches of the valley. Last summer’s hay was gone, and the task of finding enough grass grew increasingly large.

Little Bear’s leg had healed, and he only occasionally felt a twinge of pain. Jake had told him about the plan to trade cattle and horses. Now, Little Bear spent each day working to train the horses selected for trading. First, they were taught to be led, then obey commands and finally, some were broken to ride. It was a slow and patient process, but in no cases were the animals abused to insure dominance by the men. The process of training began with slow, careful rubbing of all parts of the horse’s body, and continuous, soothing voice accompaniment. All of this was accompanied by firmness in handling. Gradually, the persuasion process resulted in horses that responded superbly to with humans. In the exceptional cases where no amount of effort resulted in obedience and trust, the horse was rejected for the group to be sold. It would be traded to one of the tribes for more treatment at a later date, or used as pack animals.

By early June, all preparations for trading were complete. The selection of cows and bulls for trade was complete. Eighteen horses had been trained and were ready for exchange. Forty four cows and bulls had been selected and were being held in the pens near the cabin. On the night before the trip to the trading post, Jake talked to Jim and Hamm as they packed their equipment for the trip. He began with:

“You must be careful. that Callahan is now my enemy, and he will not be concerned about killing you. Little Bear will go with you, but he will not show himself at the place of Callahan. He will stay in the hills, and he will warn you if trouble comes. I think that I should go instead, but I will accept your decision.”

“Don’t worry yerself, Jake. We’uns kin take keer of it. We won’t let thet rascal know whut’s goin’ on,” Jim promised. Jake nodded and turned away, but in his mind he decided that it might not be as easy as the two miners thought. As an extra precaution, he made sure that each man had one of his best rifles.

When Jake and the three riders bunched the herds of cattle and horses in the morning, the grass was wet from a light rain that had fallen during the night. The sky was clearing rapidly and by the time the herds were strung out and moving toward the Valley entrance, the sun was shining brightly. As they ed through the entrance and swung north along the Bear River, Jake was reluctant to go back. He continued to ride with the herds until Little Bear rode up and said:

“I will ride ahead to the ridge and make sure no one is near. You must go back now, brother.”

“Yes, I know, but I am worried that something will happen. My heart is bad that I am to leave you,” Jake answered.

“Only Manito knows what will happen. I, too, am worried, but we will go and try hard. You must go now,” responded Little Bear. He turned and galloped his horse northward past the leaders of the herd. Jake sat and watched until Little Bear reached the top of the ridge to the right of the river where he stopped and scanned the valley ahead. After what seemed like a long time, Jake watched as Little Bear rode his pony slowly in a circle. Even at the distance, Jake recognized the signal. He sighed with some relief, and slowly turned his horse back toward the ranch. No one was in sight.

Back on the trail, Little Bear had continued cautiously through the trees to the second ridge while Jim and Hamm kept the herds moving behind him. As he topped the second ridge, he stopped abruptly and stared intently at a spot near a

grove of trees nearly a mile ahead. He thought he had seen movement of something, but now he could see nothing. He rode back off the ridge where he could not be seen and rode his pony rapidly in a tight circle. Neither Jim nor Hamm knew what the signal meant, and continued to drive the herd forward.

Little Bear moved his horse across the face of the ridge while staying in the trees. At the end of the ridge near the river, he dropped into the willows and headed downstream toward the trees where he thought he had seen the movement. He moved slower than he wanted. It was better to be cautious than run into an ambush if he really had seen someone who was after them. When he reached a point near the grove where he thought he had seen a movement, he dismounted, tied his horse to one of the willows and began working his way through the brush into the grove on foot. He reached a spot where the trail ed through the trees and stopped to make sure no one was near. He waited for many minutes before moving out on the trail.

“Ah, my eyes did not fail me,” he thought. “We did have someone near.” The depth and spacing of the hoof prints heading down the trail away from him told him that someone had been riding ahead of them at a very fast pace.

“They did not want us to see them. If they had reason to be afraid of us or angry and wanting to attack us, they must be our enemies. It is clear that they will get help or they will continue to run away. We must be careful as White Bear said.” A ball of uneasiness began to grow in his stomach. He went quickly back and retrieved his horse. As he followed the tracks of the running horse, he tried to imagine who the rider was, what he was doing in this part of the valley and why he had fled from their approach. When he reached the edges of the trees, he found that the tracks extended as far as the eye could see. He turned and started back toward the herds.

When he reached the top of the ridge where he had started, he found the spot where the tracks had started, where the man had stood while watching the trail

and the lighter tracks where he had ridden to the spot at a slower pace from upriver. Well, there was not much he could do now except wait for Jim and Hamm with the herds.

The three men rode together behind the slow moving herd as they talked over what was the best course of action.

“Wal, Little Bear, you done a good job o’ findin’ there wuz someone out there, but ain’t much we’uns kin do cept keep goin’ an’ be keerful. Jake needs tuh stay whar he is an’ tak keer uv the wimmin if’n sumbuddy is ’round hyar,” ventured Jim.

“We can take the animals back to the Valley. Then we are stronger to protect the women,” countered Little Bear. It was clear that he was worried about his family.

“Yep. Could do thet. “Cept we ‘uns cain’t be shore who thet feller wuz, an’ we’uns don’t know if he rode on or is still ’round hyar. So Ah’d say we best keep movin’ an’ keep our eyes open,” was Jim’s response. It was obvioust hat his most important wish was to continue with his work toward getting married despite a possible danger ahead.

“You speak a true point, since it was a white man’s horse with iron shoes. Even so, I am still worried that he might return.” Little Bear’s reluctance was evident, but he continued, “I will go now to scout the trail ahead. I will return before night.” Turning his horse, he rode around the herd and headed north into the trees along the trail.

Little Bear returned as the sun was setting and just as Jim and Hamm were

hobbling the horses and herding the cattle into a bend in the river.

“I have found nothing more,” he reported, “but it does not mean that we should not keep watch.”

“Yep,” replied Jim tiredly. “‘Spect yer right.” They divided the night into three watches with Little Bear taking the hours immediately before dawn. An hour before the sun made it appearance, he was mounted and riding in a large circle around the camp in an effort to detect anyone in the area. He found no sign of anyone. All was clear.

The three men continued their procedure of travel, scouting and night watchers. Near dawn after the third night, Little Bear mounted his horse and began his ride around the camp. They had camped in the relatively open country in a broad valley about ten miles from the trading post with scant cover except for the willows along the riverbank and the scattered sagebrush. Little Bear reached a point where the sun was just making its appearance across the top of the single mountain peak that sat out from the mainline of the mountains.

And then it happened. Little Bear could hear shots and shouts at a distance coming from the direction of the camp, he stopped and felt a cold hand over his heart. His hesitation only lasted for seconds. He knew what he had to do. He whipped his horse into a run toward the camp, and as he approached, he saw furious movement both in the camp and among the herds. Three men on horseback were wheeling, turning and firing at the body of a horse. Sporadic shots were coming from behind the dead horse, but seemed to have little effect on the attackers. Two other horsemen were racing among the cattle and horses attempting to drive them away. Despite the hobbles, they had managed to get a small number of horses moving away from camp. On the other hand, the cattle had been badly frightened and were running in various directions. No organized drive could be made.

When Little Bear reached rifle range, he dismounted and knelt beside his horse. His first shot took one of the attacker’s horses in the shoulder causing it to fall heavily in mid-stride. The rider fell heavily, but jumped to his feet quickly and looked around wildly. The sound of the shot coming from behind them threw the attackers into a panic. Shouting, cursing and continuing to shoot in all directions without regard for whether targets could be seen or not, they had no idea of how many fighters they faced.

As Little Bear reloaded and fired his second shot hitting one of the men in the back. The man slumped down on his horse’s back, and the two of them swung back and picked up the one whose horse had been shot and raced after the two riders that had begun moving with the cattle and horses they had gathered. At that point, the man lying behind the dead horse fired a shot at the five men and grazed one more slightly, but did not knock him off the horse. All of them rode off out of range with the few cattle and horses they had gathered. Little Bear’s third shot ed overhead but reinforced the thought that they faced more fighters than the two they had found in camp.

As the attackers kept moving away, Little Bear mounted and rode into camp. It was in complete disarray with equipment, bedding and food scattered in all directions by the hooves of the attackers horses. Hamm lay on his back on one side of the camp with blood covering one side of his head. Jim lay slumped behind the dead horse, rifle clutched in his left hand and not moving. Little Bear dismounted and went to Jim first. Since he had been firing the rifle when Little Bear first arrived, he felt that he had the best chance of being alive. As he knelt over him, he noticed that Jim had been wounded in the right shoulder, but was still breathing. When Little Bear grasped his left arm to turn him over he struggled and tried to bring the rifle to bear. Little Bear spoke softly and he sank back sighing in relief.

“Thank Gawd it’s you. Ah couldn’t hang on any more. Thought they had me thar. How’s Hamm?”

“I have not seen him yet. He is shot in the head,” responded Little Bear.

“Aw Gawd. It’s wuss than I thought,” moaned Jim. “Go look, wud yuh?” Little Bear moved to the prone figure of Hamm and knelt beside it. He noticed that while one side of his head was thickly covered with blood, but he, too, was breathing. Moving back to Jim he helped him rise and moved him back to the man’s sleeping robes. There he made him as comfortable as possible while he set about rekindling the fire from the previous night and getting water from the river. He put a pan of water on the fire, and started picking up the camp gear while waiting for the water to boil.

With the boiling water and a piece of blanket, Little Bear began washing the blood from Jim’s shoulder. The wounded man swore viciously at the pain and questioned:

“Why ain’t yuh heppen Hamm? He needs the hep wuss’n Ah do,” muttered Jim.

“He may not need it at all. There is not much I can do,” replied Little Bear.

“Wal, Ah kin make it, go do sumthin, please,” said Jim. Little Bear continued working. The bullet had ed completely through the shoulder without hitting the bone and expanding. With luck and no infection, it would heal quickly. Once cleaned, Little Bear wrapped the wound and made preparations to care for Hamm.

Now he encountered a surprise. As he washed the wound, he discovered it to be

no more than a graze that spread along the side of Hamm’s head just above his ear. The size of the wound caused by expansion of the bullet was wider than desirable, but not deep. Its size had caused the significant flow of blood. The impact had been enough that Hamm remained unconscious. Little Bear wrapped a bandage around his head and then returned to collecting the camp gear.

By evening, Little Bear had the camp gear collected, the bedding in place and had checked the remaining cattle. Of the 44 cows and bulls that formed the herd, ten were missing. None of the horses had been pushed to the point of going with the attackers.

“Not a very effective raid,” reflected Little Bear, “but, then, they looked like they were greenhorns in all respects, including fighting. But, they did wound the two white men enough.”

Hamm had regained consciousness during the afternoon. While he groaned loudly about the violent headache he had, he also assured Little Bear and Jim that he was alright. Despite these assurances, Little Bear directed him to rest, and he had slept most of the remainder of the afternoon. While it was a necessary thing for him and Jim, Little Bear was very worried that the attackers might return.

In the morning after a breakfast delayed by the need to re-dress the wounds, the men made preparations to resume the drive. Despite Little Bear’s desire and suggestion that they return to Jake’s rather than possibly face another fight, neither Jim nor Hamm had been willing to turn back. Of the two, Hamm was continually angry about the attack that they had received, and they both were adamant about forcing the sale of the herds. They would finish the task. Accordingly, they had bound Jim’s right arm and shoulder in a sling, and wrapped it tightly to his body. He had to be helped into the saddle. Hamm had staggered a little when he first arose, but his strength grew with time.

Late on the morning of that next day, they pushed the herds into the area around the front of the trading post. It had taken them longer than expected, but they were forced to travel slower because of the wounds and the caution against further attack. Two men emerged from the front of the post and the leader shouted:

“Wal now, what hev we here. You fellers lookin’ fer sumthin’?”

“We wanna talk with Callahan,” replied Jim. Hamm sat at his side with rifle ready. He provided a very menacing figure with his bandaged head and a deep frown on his broad face. His entire attitude had changed from the friendly quiet manner of before. Now, the anger he had gotten because of the wound placed him in a completely belligerent attitude toward these potential enemies. He was now taking charge of defending them from any move by these people with no backing from shooting if necessary. Jim also was equally ready. He had placed a loaded pistol in the sling earlier and now gripped it with the strength available in his hand. Little Bear had stopped at the edge of the trees, and waited with his rifle across his left arm. Earlier in the day he had finished tracking the stolen cattle to a small valley nearby. He had seen two of the cows in the corral and the hide of a third one on the fence. When he had informed Jim and Hamm,they had gone into a murderous rage and were ready for the trader.

“Callahan ain’t here no more. I bought this place from him, and yuh’ll haf to talk to me about what yuh want,” sneered the leader.

“We’re aim’n to sell these herds, an’ if’n yer buyin’ we need a price,” countered Jim.

“Why shore. Ah’m lookin’ to buy them animals. Git down an’ come on in. We’ll talk about it. Whoa, whut’s thet Injun doin’ over there. Can’t hev them no-goods hangin’ aroun’. Go git him otta here, Bob,” snarled the leader.

“Wouldn’t do thet if Ah wuz you. Mess with our fren’ an’ we’ll hav tuh kill yuh,” Jim said quietly.

“Aah. Don’t josh with me. Looks like you fellers had sum trouble. Seems like yuh couldn’t hurt nobody. Hee. Hee,” giggled the leader.

“Jest try it!” was Hamm’s reply as he swung the muzzle of his rifle to bear on the two. “We bin lookin’ fer the one’s thet brung us the trouble, an’ you act like you might be one uv em. I sure would hope so.” The leader of the group looked more closely at the three riders and finally decided to change tactics and bide his time.

“Calm down. We ain’t here tu fight. Come on in, an’ we’ll talk about buyin’ them that cows an’ horses,” he said.

“Jest name yer price. We ain’t intrested in settin’,” growled Jim.

“Wal now, mah name is Henry Sanders an’ Ah plan to do good busness here. Ah’ll give yuh my best offer. Thet’s $5 each fer the cattle an’ $8 fer the hosses.”

“You best make thet $12 for the cows, and $20 fer the hosses,” responded Jim.

“Whooee, thet’s way too much. Nope! Cain’t give yuh thet,” he came back with.

“Don’t matter tuh us,” responded Jim. “We’ll move em on up to the fort tuh the north.”

“Yew must be crazy. Thet’s a long way, an’ whut makes yuh think we’ll let yuh git otta here anyways?” snapped Sanders.

“This,” announced Hamm as he cocked the rifle and pointed it at the man’s forehead. “Now git the money. We know whar them cows thet was stole from us are an’ iff’n yer not keerfull, we’ll take you along tuh git em. Only you won’t come back.”

“Easy, Hamm,” cautioned Jim.

“No easy ’bout it, Jim. Ah’m ready tuh git even. This feller wuz probly part uv the bunch what shot us, an’ Ah ain’t takin no more. If he won’t pay, an we gotta move on, Ah’m takin’ him with me one way or t’other,” snarled Hamm. Jim interceded with:

“Mitbe it’s best iffn yer partnr gits the money and you jest stay put. Hamm here ain’t bin thinkin’ too good since he took thet bullet tuh the head. Whut’s yer answer?” Out of the side of his mouth and without taking his eyes from either of the two riders, Sanders gave directions to the man next to him to get the money from under the counter inside.

The man hesitated and said:

“Ye ain’t givin’ in, are yuh?”

“Shut up an’ do whut yer told. They got ME covered, but they won’t git away with it when we’re done,” snarled Sanders. Jim smiled and added:

“We’ll see ’bout thet. Jest don’t make no funny moves er Hamm’s rifle goes off.” The man turned and disappeared inside. He returned in a short time with a bag that he tried to hand Jim. Instead, Jim looked him in the eye and said:

“Take it out o’ the bag an’ count it. Drop each piece back in.” Swearing and grumbling, the man took the coins from the bag and counted 38 of the 50 gold coins back into the bag. “Impressin’,’ mused Jake. “Yuh knew ‘zactly how many critters wuz here ‘thout even countin’. Looks like yuh knowed we wuz comin’, but yuh forgot 8 coins. Try agin,” and he slipped the muzzle of the pistol from the folds of the sling. The man glared, swore again and went back inside. He returned with more coins, dumped them in the bag and handed it to Jim. Taking the bag and the reins in his left hand, Jim began backing his horse toward the trees and Little Bear.

“Best be goin’ Hamm,” he ventured. “Looks lak we’uns played all the cards we kin.” Hamm, too, began backing away. Neither man turned his back until they reached Little Bear and the trees. Once there, they swung their horses and rode rapidly away. They heard a great deal of shouting and rumbling of feet, but nothing materialized. It turned out that Sanders and his helper were kept busy getting the herds together and into the corral before they could do anything to try to catch Jake’s men.

“Whar yuh ‘spose all them other fellers wuz that attackt us back on the trail?” queried Jim.

“Horse tracks go up the valley with cows. They camp away from here, but they come soon now,” replied Little Bear.

“Wal,we got tub pick up thet preacher. If we go thet way, it will probly confuse ’em fer a bit. Whut wuz his name agin?” asked Hamm.

“Joe Walker. Got his name writ down here in mah shirt. Jake sez he lives down river a waz,” replied Jim. “Whut do yuh think, Little Bear? Iffn them other fellers come after us, whut kin we do?”

“We will go back toward the Bear Valley the way we can. Then we can circle back to the river around this place,” and he led the way. It took the better part of the remainder of the day to reach the river toward the west of the spot where they started, and they still had not located Walker. Several times during the afternoon, they saw dust in the air in the direction of the trading post and along the river upstream. The searchers were out.

They camped that night in heavy brush away from the trail and resumed their search early the next morning. They finally located Walker’s cabin by midmorning. It had dramatically changed from the time Jake and Anne had visited. One corner showed the effects of a fire and the door hung by a single strap. Other portions showed damage of various types. Two dogs started barking furiously as they arrived, but cowered behind the brush near the cabin rather than rushing toward them. Joe emerged from the cabin blinking rapidly without hat or gun. His face and head had several scabs where injuries had occurred. When he saw the three strangers, one of whom was an Indian, he stopped with a bewildered look and stammered:

“H—h—howdy. Whut kin Ah do fer yuh?”

“We’uns are lookin’ fer Joe Walker. Yuh must be him, ain’t yuh?” responded Jim.

“Yeah, what is it yuh want?” asked Joe.

“We wurk fer a feller name o’ Jake Andersen. ‘Member him?” commented Jim.

“O’ yeah, shore is good tuh hear thet ye’re cumin’ from him. It’s good seein’yuh here instead o’ sum o’ them others. Step down an’ Ah’ll fix some coffee,” and with a lighter step, he disappeared into the shack only to return within a short time.

“Thar now. It’ll be ready as soon’s the water boils. Whut brings yuh here?” he added. When Jim explained the situation and asked if he would visit the valley to perform the weddings for the two of them, Joe’s mood lightened perceptibly. His response was immediate. “Ah’d be plezed tuh do thet fer yeo ‘Sides, it’ll give me an excuse fer leavin’ this place.” He went on to explain that Henry Sanders and his men had consistently harassed and beaten him up and tried to destroy his cabin. It appeared that each time they ed by, they took the opportunity to do more damage. Their numbers and persistence had made it difficult to fight back, and even the dogs were fearful of strangers now. The reason he had not appeared with a gun was that he feared being killed if he gave the appearance of being ready to fight a significantly larger group. Little Bear smiled inwardly when he heard this explanation, but said nothing.

“Looks like yew fellers ran into some trouble too. Was it Sanders an’ his scum?” Joe asked.

“Yep,” replied Jim, and he related the events of the past week while Joe’s eyes became wider and wider, and more astonished.

“Ye mean ye took on thet bunch directly? Lord o’ mercy, we’d best git movin’. They’ll probly head this way any minute now,” and he headed for the shack and began throwing things in a pile. When Hamm asked:

“Anythin’ we’uns kin do?” his response was:

“Yep. Ketch up them two mules an’ the hoss in the back. This won’t take long caus’ Ah ain’t got much stuff” True to his word, within an hour, he had his belongings tied into packs and was ready to load the mules. Little Bear had fidgeted nervously while they waited. He would have been much more at ease if he could have been moving through the trees on their way back to the Valley.

Before Joe mounted, he moved back into the cabin and before the others knew what was happening, flames were leaping up everywhere. He had dumped coal oil throughout, and set fire to it.

“Wait. Whut are yuh doin’?” yelled Jim.

“Well, it ain’t much, but Ah ain’t lettin’ them bad guys hev it anyway,” he answered.

“Yeah, but you jest sent ’em a message as to whar we are. Didn’t yuh think o’ thet,” growled Jim.

“Thet’s true, but Ah know sum trail’s whar they’ll never find us. Ah bin here a lot longer than they have,” and with that he led off at a fast trot while the two hounds loped along behind. The trail he was taking led to a small valley across from the river along the trail that led back to the trade center. They moved quickly toward the south down across the river to avoid anyone coming from the trade post eight miles to the east. Once across the river, they climbed quickly up the small valley that Joe led them to. It was a good plan because they all agreed that the men from the trade post in all probability could not track them across the river.

They traveled about six miles up the south valley along its creek when they came to the ridge. Even though it was quite difficult in climbing up through the trees to the top and dropping down to another valley that moved for six more miles to the south before it began curving back to the northeast, they made it in several hours. By moving northeastward for eight miles, they came to the Bear River and started south to Jake’s Bear Valley. By the time they reached that point, Jim and Hamm were very confused about where they had traveled, but very pleased in the way it avoided the Bear River trail. However, they were now tired enough to be thankful for reaching “home”.

Chapter 23

It was dark when they reached Jake’s cabin, and Little Bear simply moved on to the tipi where his women and children were. The three other men went to the cabin where Jake was standing with a frown and worried look. Both Jim and Hamm were exuberant and ready to brag.

“How did it go? What has happened?” Jake asked.

“We had a real good trip, an’ sold them cows an’ hosses—an’ we found this guy Joe,” said Jim. And even Hamm was willing to talk, but Jake interrupted with,

“Hamm, what happened to your head? How bad was the time you had?”

“Hold on,” said Jim. “We had some problems, but we were able to handle it. Let us start at the beginin’ an’ we’uns will tell tuh whole story.” And he started from the very beginning with more details about the events than was really necessary. However, when he discussed the attacks, the wounds received, the efforts of selling and all the other steps to avoid additional fights as they started to return, Jake’s face showed excruciating frowns and excitement as he heard the difficulties. Again, he felt that he should have been with them. In the end, however, Jim was bragging about their ability to beat the trader and his men. Jake decided that it would be necessary to get Little Bear’s description of the trip. However, at the end of the story, Jim brought up the important request for himself and Hamm.

“Naow, yuh know we’uns got thet feller, Joe, along with us, an’ we sure would lak thet weddin’ next week. Is thet o.k?”

“Oh, I do not know. Are the women ready, for something that soon? You will have to make that known to them. It is not my decision,” said Jake.

“Oh they is ready. Will go tell ’em it’s o.k. Ah shore thank yuh. 0’ an’ by the way, here’s the money we got. Ah hope it’s whut yuh wanted.” With that he and Hamm took off in a hurry to see their women. That left Jake with Joe Walker who had come to marry the two men.

“They did find you down near the trading post, and I understand that you were hit by those people often. What do you plan to do now?” asked Jake.

“Wal, Ah did agree tuh marry those folks, an’ Ah’ll do thet, but Ah shore would like to stay here fur a while to stay ‘way from them men down at tuh tradin’ post. If yuh kin use my help,

Ah’d be glad tuh do it. But if yuh don’t hav sumthin’ fer me tuh do, wal, Ah guess Ah’ll jest go on over tuh Auraria over on tuh other side of tuh mountains an’ see whut Ah kin git,” replied Joe.

“You are welcome. You did well for us when we came to see you, and we will see what can be done. It seems now that I have more work to do than I can handle. I cannot pay you well, but you can eat and have a place to stay until you can find what you need,” responded Jake.

“Ah sure do preciate thet. Ah’ll be happy tuh see how it goes, long’s Ah don’t hev tuh fight them fellers down at the post,” Joe commented.

“I suggest that you camp with Jim and Hamm until you can come up with something,” said Jake, and he led Joe and his dogs off to the place.

Time went quickly to the day of the wedding. Anne, Morning Star and Little Squirrel had worked constantly from early morning to late at night getting everything ready. They did the work happily in anticipation of a happy wedding, although the two Indian women were not sure why everything was being put together as Anne and the men ordered. Fancy dresses, things to wear in the hair, decorations for the cabin and all kinds of special food had been put together to fit a particular schedule for the wedding day that Anne had set up. The day before the wedding, they were still scrambling until late at night getting the things ready. In addition, Anne had worked out a program with Joe Walker including reading Bible chapters to him that would fit the service. Jake simply shook his head at all the activity and disappeared to go to the cattle or horses.

On the following morning, Anne was up very early, and began the cooking of all the parts of the feast that she and the brides had put together. In addition, she made sure all the decorations were in place, and everyone was getting ready for the wedding. Finally, she brought out the gifts that she had put together for their wedding. By noon everyone was getting nervous and impatient, but they all went ahead with a quick snack—except Jake. Early in the morning he had rode to the peak over the valley to watch for other people or soldiers, and was now out checking the cows and horses. In fact, he was trying to avoid all the activities taking place for the wedding. He simply could not understand why these things were necessary. On the other hand, his wife stewed over his absence and at noon sent Joe to pick him up. When he was brought back he stayed quiet, washed himself and got dressed to give away the women in the wedding.

The wedding itself went well with everyone being polite and respectful in action

and language. Jake felt that it was well beyond the normal activities of everyone, but he stayed quiet, and took the women up to the pastor and grooms. Anne smiled and nodded to the brides to keep them going, and Little Bear and his two women simply stood watching without showing any reaction—undoubtedly because they were not familiar with weddings. Joe waxed forth with the wedding service and as he proceeded, he became more and more active. He covered the Bible descriptions in detail and rambled through descriptions of wedding responsibilities. After nearly an hour and when Jake began frowning over the amount of time, He stuttered a bit, and quickly gave the wedding commitments. The husbands bashfully kissed their wives, and everything broke loose. Smiling, laughing and holding their wives, the new husbands went to everyone to shake hands, say thanks, brag and enjoy the events now that their nervousness was gone. This had been the most complete wedding that Jake and Little Bear had ever seen.

As time went on they became noisier and more active until Anne finally shouted to them to come for the food. While there was all types of food and a cake for the wedding, there was no liquor this time. Despite that fact, the two new husbands laughed and talked loudly while they hurried through eating. Then, they fidgeted and looked back and forth nervously as they tried to take their wives to their new living place, and in response Anne told them they could go now.

Jake felt different. He had become worried about what would happen to his land if there continued to be a number of whites who came and lived here as these three men had. Were they honest? Did they hate Indians? Was the overall idea on their part that they would be able to gain control of this land? He did not know the answer. His first step was to talk to Anne. When he pointed out his concern, she listened carefully and thought for a long minute before answering:

“I really don’t think these men are working toward taking control. They seem very grateful to us and are now enjoying their marriage and the place where they live. I think they are willing to live and work as our helpers.”

“That does seem true now. But as time goes on, don’t you agree that they might want to take this land from us and be able to earn money and live better than we do?” asked Jake. “I am an Indian, and that could be wrong for white men.”

“Well, I really don’t know if that will happen. You really are half a white man, so in addition they must know that you are white too. These two white men have married Indian squaws, and that should have an effect on them about our land. I just don’t know. I am, however, very worried about your concerns, and it may be that you are right about their change in attitude. I would suggest that you talk with Little Bear, too. He will also have a strong feeling about how white men feel and react,” she responded.

“Ah yes, you are right. I will talk again with Little Bear,” Jake answered. With the chores he still had to do and the coming of night, he did not have time to get together with his brother. He felt it would be necessary to have more time than he had now.

The following days were very busy with the preparations for the coming winter, and he just did not feel that he had time to talk in detail with Little Bear. True, the three white men did much of the grass cutting, cattle herding and fencing for the coming cold part of the year. Despite that it was necessary for Jake to continually make plans and lead them in their work in order to make sure they were following what he wanted and felt was right. As the time went on, the requirements for Jake reduced slowly as they gained knowledge of his ways. The workers became more familiar with the goals and tasks, and Jake began having more time to make his plans for the future.

As the autumn period began, they all worked on the preparation for winter, and Jake rode out to help both the cattle herders and Little Bear bring the herds back to the Valley. When Jake went to Little Bear’s spot with the horses, he had

decided to spend the necessary time talking to his brother before they took the horses back. The weather was at its best. The fall days were not too hot, and rain or snow had not started yet. The two brothers were not in a hurry to get the horses back to the Valley while the weather was so good. They decided to take their time with getting the horses ready to return, but they would not leave the family alone this time.

The second night that Jake was there, the two of them were sitting by the campfire after they had eaten. Jake now opened the subject of his worry about his land.

“I am still worried about keeping my land and animals. It seems that we have more and more white men around us, and the soldiers could easily be back to attack us and take our land away. I really do not know what to do. I have the proof that I was given this land by the Utes, but the soldiers were very opposed to it, and they promised to come back. What can I do, White Bear.”

“I do not know for sure. I think you are right about the soldiers, but I have no other ideas. We Indians do not need these things about our land, but it is very true that white men are convinced that they can take anything they want, and force every Indian away. I agree that something needs to be done, but what is it? We can fight to keep this land, but I am afraid there are too many white men coming to take our things or even kill us.” Jake was even more depressed by Little Bear’s analysis of the problem coming their way.

“I am sad to hear that you agree with my bad feelings about the comings of the future. Don’t you have any suggestions? You have been over much more land than I have,” replied Jake. Little Bear laughed bitterly and responded:

“I must agree that I am not helping, and, yes I have seen more of the land, but it

only shows me more and more white men coming to steal our land. I am willing to stay and help you, but it would seem that I can not be nearly enough help to protect your land. I guess that you should talk to the white men in our Valley about what is needed. They do seem honest, and maybe they know more about what is needed,” commented Little Bear.

“You are probably right,” replied Jake slowly. “I have not been anxious to bring the white men into our decisions about the land, but apparently I have no other choices. I will talk to them.”

That night when they went to bed, the weather changed. They began to get rain before sunrise, the wind rose and the temperature fell. Both of them quickly agreed that it was time to begin moving the horses back to the Valley. Actually, it took them two days to gather all of them and get them on the way back. By noon on the third day they drove into the Valley, and set up the gate. The rain had stopped and the sun had raised the temperature, but they both agreed that the season was changing and it was time to get ready for winter.

As the time went on the winter turned out to be little different than the previous two years. While it meant that a lot of work was involved in taking care of the horses and cattle, there were actually more men, including the white men, than were needed. One advantage, however, was that with the extra men, they all could trade hunting time. The results were that they not only found enough deer, antelope, elk and buffalo meat, but they also acquired a significant amount of furs and hides. Above all, the new white men were happy over the fact that they would be able to obtain money for their furs and hides.

Of more importance to Jake, however, was the meeting he had with the three white men. He had carefully selected a time when he could sit down with them and consider ways to secure the ownership of his land. He began with an explanation of his ownership obtained from the Ute tribe, and then commented:

“But since my fight with the Army man about my right to this land, it seemed to me that he did not accept the title given to me by Strong Bull. I am worried that they may come back and ignore the Ute tribe. It seems that they are pushing them out of the way, and when that is done, they will push me out or kill me because I am an Indian. I am in need of help to know what I must do. Is it that I fight or just leave and look for another place? Actually, I feel that this is my place without question.” The three white men sat and glanced at him and each other for several minutes before Jim finally answered:

“Wal, yuh know, we’uns all feel thet we owe yuh a lot, an’ we’uns like this place, an’ wanna stay here. Thet is if’n it’s o.k. with yuh, cuz we owe yuh, an’ we like it. We wouldn’t run from fightin’ iffn thet wuz necessary. But Ah guess we all know the Injuns er bein’ pushed out, an’ lot’s more white’s iz cumin’. Don’t yuh Hamm an’ Joe agree with thet?” And they both nodded their heads, but had no additional suggestions. Finally, Jim continued:

“Wal, Jake, Ah got another idea if Hamm an’ Joe agree. Let me tell yuh, an’ they kin agree or not. Ah think thar’s whites a settin’ up a place, a town, thet is in charge over on the east o’ tuh mountain’s. It’s called Auraria, an’ it’ a place whar yuh take gold an’ claim mines. It could be a place tuh git a title fur this land. Ah jest don’t know if’n thar’s a office tuh set up land or iffn they’ll give land tuh Injuns. When we wuz thar we wuz told they had a meetin’ at “Uncle Dick” Wooton’s store whar they set up a Territory called Jefferson an’ elected a guy called Robert W. Steele as Governor of the Territory. Ah know they want this here area too, an’ iffn yuh kin talk tuh Steele, mabbe he’ll sign a paper fer yuh. Ah jest think it’s worth a try.” Both Hamm and Joe agreed fully. They all felt it was worth a try, and they assured Jake that they would defend the land and take care of the animals while he was gone.

Jake thanked them, assured them that he would consider making the trip and went directly back to talk with Anne. When he told her what had happened and what the problems were to be solved, she immediately got excited and clapped

her hands.

“Indeed! That is a good suggestion, and I must go with you,” she said.

“Anne, I am not sure the trip would be safe. I think you must stay here where there is protection,” he responded.

“No, Jake. We can both travel with guns, and you should be able to get the of both the Utes and the Arapahoes. They are both your friends. Besides, if it is true that they will not give you a title because you are part Indian, I may need to ask the whites in Auraria to us because I am white.”

“Well, it would seem to help us in that case and if it happens, and I could have Little Bear be the leader here, but let me think about this problem,” said Jake finally. He left the house and went to see Little Bear.When he had repeated all of the thoughts and comments. Little Bear obviously felt that he had been given the right plan and agreed quickly with the idea and with having Anne going too. He was sure that it might be important to have his white wife with him. He also was sure that he would be able to lead the people living in the Valley. Jake was satisfied, and began his planning for the trip.

Chapter 24

As the winter ed by and the weather began warming, Jake began gathering the things he needed for the trip. He selected two horses to carry camping equipment, clothes and food items they would need. In addition, he picked two riding horses that would be able to climb the mountains, cross the rivers and basically have the strength for having riders for all the miles to the settlement town of Auraria. One of these horses ofcourse was Anne’s horse, Christi. When he was ready, he waited until the grass had grown to the point where the horses and cattle could be moved out, and he worked with getting them to the right places. Finally, he had long talk with Little Bear, and the next morning he and Anne loaded the horses, mounted and began the trip.

They did not travel north and then over the mountains near the Rabbit Ears. Instead, they followed the trail to the east in their Valley that the Utes had used. They came out near a stream that moved down the east side of the mountains and ed a larger river that looped to the north in the middle of the large valley area that laid between the two high mountain ridges. They camped for the night at the spot where the small river from the Rabbit Ears mountains ed the larger river in this north park.

To their surprise they were ed for the night by a small group of Utes moving north with their families. The friendly greeting between Jake and the braves was followed by a night of exchanging information with the Indian group. It was a surprise to Jake that the major part of the discussion dealt with the problems these Utes faced with whites coming from all directions into their land. It was a depressing thing that the majority of the discussion involved, but Jake was more convinced that he needed more efforts to gain the control of his land for the wellbeing of his family. The most depressing fact was that he met a large number of small groups of Utes (and Arapahoes later) wandering over the land they traveled in the following days who were searching for their former way of living.

Despite their constant searching they were constantly meeting whites. It would not happen for these Indians!

In three days more, Jake and Anne reached the top of the mountains where Jake had camped years before on his way to the Utes camp. The fourth day, they dropped down along the trail by the river that led down to the plains that began at the edge of the mountains and moved out to the east. Jake ed the area very well. Unfortunately, they were ed by a group of Arapahoes led by a chief called Niwot, who complained bitterly about the problems becoming increasingly difficult with white men. While the discussion caused Jake’s depression to increase, he became even more convinced that he needed to get an agreement with the white men taking control of the country. Niwot, however, also warned him that while he saw a man named Steele, who had just become the leader of the whites in Auraria, he would also need to see General Larimer and William Byers afterward. These two men were seeking development and control of the area, and he would need their agreement of what Steele said. It was obvious to Jake that this man Niwot knew very well what was happening, and he quickly agreed in his mind that he would follow these instructions.

Jake and Anne started early in the morning, and pushed their horses hard to reach the settlement called Auraria. They generally followed the directions given by Chief Niwot, but at times they encountered various numbers of white men, riding, walking and driving wagons westward. It became obvious that they were seeing people heading for the gold mine areas that they thought were westward in the mountains. All of the Indians that they had met had told them that was what was happening. Jake constantly rode away from and around these people, but they reached a point where they found shacks and groups of Indians in tipis.

They finally stopped at one of the groups of Indians and asked about the location of Auraria and the place where “Uncle Dick” Wooton’s store was. There was no clear answer, but they did receive general directions felt to be one hours ride to the south. Overall it would be to the east of the river called South Platte now, and there they would find an Arapahoe camp outside the place that they thought was

the Auraria settlement. It would also be a better place for Jake to spend the night than in the town.

Sure enough, in an hour they reached the Arapahoe camp and they set up their camp and began fixing their food for the night. While Jake felt good about being with some of the Arapahoes and being welcomed by some of them who knew who he was, the entire attitude of these Indians had changed. They were now more dependent on the whites and less strong in their tribal relationship. One of Jake’s greatest worries was the fact that they were more heavily involved in alcohol, and it might mean that they would be attacked. Certainly, the Utes were stronger even though they too were feeling they were becoming more controlled. Jake laid down to sleep with Anne with feeling going lower, and his pistols near his hands.

In the morning Jake and Anne loaded their horses with the feeling that they would be leaving for their home in a short time. They had gotten directions to “Uncle Dick” Wooton’s place, and they left the tribe riding hurriedly to his store. Jake felt very uncomfortable as they rode as men stared, cackled, and shouted at them as they saw Anne. He was shamed and angry, but Anne kept telling him to ignore the nastiness. While she had been anxious to in visiting this place of white people, she was beginning to become more nervous with the things she was encountering. She was now also becoming anxious to start back to their home.

When they reached the “Uncle Dick” Wooton store, they tied their horses where they could see them. As they entered they noticed a large number of men throughout the store, but the whole place was somewhat quiet this early in the day. Jake walked to a man standing behind the counter and said:

“We are looking for a man named “Uncle Dick” Wooton who can give us help about finding Robert Steel. Can you help us?”

“Well, you’ve found Dick Wooton, but what is it you want? Then maybe I’ll tell you where Robert Steele is,” said Dick Wooton.” By the way, you look like an Indian and that lady doesn’t look like one. Is that true?” The sarcasm in Wooton’s voice raised the anger in Jake, but he continued politely.

“The lady is my wife and we want to talk to Robert Steele about the land we have settled. We were told that he would be able to help us,” responded Jake.

“Ha, ha!” chuckled Wooton. “If it’s land you want, you won’t get it when you’re an’ Indian. What makes you think it is yours? Is your “wife” not an Indian?”

“I have proof, but we wish to talk to Robert Steele,” said Jake with his jaw getting tighter and his voice lower.

“Please,” said Anne. “Tell us where we can find this man.” Wooton looked at Anne and smiled broadly while he looked her up and down.

“Well now, pretty girl, you look really good, but I’ll talk to you more at a later time. The man you are lookin’ for is in that room behind that door over in that corner,” he replied.

“Thank you. We will go and knock,” she replied.

“Oh don’t worry. I’ll go with you,” he said and started walking to the door. They followed him, and were led into the small office where a man sat behind a table

writing in a notebook.

“What is it Dick? Why are you bringing these people in here? I’m busy writing the plan for this area,” he said. “Well, Robert, these folks want to talk to you about land they got. I guess they want to it as their land,” he responded. Robert’s attitude changed dramatically. Obviously, he was pleased that someone was approaching him as the governor, and his face changed in pride.

“Oh! Well that’s different. As Governor, I’ll be happy to help you in any way I can. Dick let us talk, and I’ll see you later. What is it you have man?” he responded.

“Watch it, Robert. He’s an’ Indian, and you know he shouldn’t be tryin’ to get land here,” Wooton interrupted.

“Hmm. Yes. You are right, but let me find out about it,” he said as he puffed his chest up. Wooton did leave, but he smirked at Jake as he walked out.

“Now,” said Robert. “Sit down and explain to me what it is that you need and I’ll see what I can do.”

“I will ask your help,” said Jake. “My father was a white man, and his name was Anderson. My mother was Arapahoe. I moved into the mountains to the north and west of here a long way; after my father died, and my mother was killed by white men. After I started raising horses and cows, my friends in the Ute tribe gave me land in the mountains to the northwest. Here is a title to the land on this hide that they gave to me so that I could prove that I was the owner. Now my wife and I own this land, and we wish to have proof of it for the time when we

have more white men coming.” Robert sat quietly rubbing his chin with a serious look on his face and his eyes were fixed as he thought about the story. Finally, he nodded his head and said:

“Well, that’s a reasonable request and I feel that you deserve the title, but we do have a problem. You are essentially an Indian, and I can’t give you a title. I’m not sure what we can do. We—”

“Wait,” said Anne. “I’m beginning to understand you white people. Jake, maybe he can give me the title, since I am white. You know that if we can get it, then it will still by yours and mine. We won’t have to give it up.” Jake’s eyes shifted and his hands gripped on and off the edge of the table.

“Please, Jake, don’t be angry. You know it will still be yours. Just let me help,” begged Anne quietly. He finally smiled back slightly and slowly said,

“If that can be done, we will do that, but I will still have Indian title.”

“Well, that might work,” said Robert, “but I need to know a lot of other stuff. Let’s start writing it down. I need Anne’s names, age, information about your marriage such as the date and who did it, where the land is, its size and what you do on it. I’m going to sign it if it’s o.k. and then I’ll get this other guy whose trying to be made governor to sign it too.”

Anne began filling the answers to the questions he had raised and she became sadder as it went. Jake remained quiet and sat looking down at the floor. He looked more and more punished.

When Anne had trouble describing where the land was, he finally gave a brief description of its location. Anne gave a size that was obviously twice the size, but Robert merely nodded and wrote the number down. When he had finished writing the information in the form of a title, he commented to Anne in a friendly manner.

“You’ve given good information and I think the land is where I won’t have any problem approving this title. It is located a long way from here and it would not be popular land for people coming or living here. Since it doesn’t have gold and it’s not easy farm land, I think I can approve it for you, and I’ll get a second signature. Maybe I’ll get both General Larimer and William Byers since they are guys that are trying to gain control. That guy Larimer is something else. He’s tryin’ to change the name here to Colorado, he’s sellin’ land in the town over the river, he wants to be made governor and he’s determined, obstinate and aggressive on everything. He could be negative, but if I can get him to sign, it’ll help keep it for you. The other guy—William Byers—he’s organized a vigilance committee and is workin’ closely with Larimer. His signature will help, too. I’ll tell them both that nobody will want that kind of land, and they’ll probably believe that. Anne, you sign your name over here and I’ll go see them this afternoon. You come back tomorrow at about noon so I’m sure I can see them both and convince them.”

Anne signed, and they both walked out with Jake being totally silent all the time. As they were walking through the store, Wooton started toward them and said,

“Hey there Anne, now we can get together. Come on and sit down. Let’s talk a bit.”

“Please, don’t come near me now. We will be back tomorrow, but we have done a lot now and we must go discuss more information,” she answered. Her hands

were shaking as she watched Jake straighten up and reach for his pistol. She quickly stepped in front of him and grabbed his hand where Wooton could not see it. With that she quickly pulled Jake out with her. Wooton yelled as they were leaving.

“Well o.k., but I’ll sure want to see you tomorrow.”

They rode slowly back to the Arapahoe tribe’s camp, and Anne talked quietly to Jake the entire way. Over and over, she assured him that the title would basically be his. She loved him and would fully agree that he was her husband and leader. By the time they reached the camp, he had recovered pretty well, and his love for his wife after her way of help had raised him more than he would ever forget. He was sure they were one. That night he loved her more deeply than he ever had before, and for the whole night he held her closely and tightly. They were both happier.

In the morning they got up late, packed and rode back into town slowly arriving close to noon. They went directly back into Steele’s office and found him sitting there with a smile.

“Guess what?” he said. “I had no problem getting those guys to sign. They both said they really didn’t think that land was worth anything and they signed it since you were white. They did wonder why someone like you would want that worthless land, but I was able to lead them off of that concern. Now all I need is 20 dollars for the title, and you are in good shape.” Anne responded happily:

“Thank you so very much. Jake can give you the money and we will always be grateful for it.” Even Jake smiled as he gave the money to Steele. On the other hand Steele acted more proudly with his chest sticking out.

“Well, I am the Governor, and in charge. And you are right, I was able to get a good deal. So now, let me take you to dinner.”

“Please, we need to get going back to our ranch. If you come there, we will give you food and a place to stay, but now we must go,” she said quietly. Again, he responded:

“Well, let me walk you out to your horses. I’m not sure what those people out there in the store will do when you try to go, since you are an Indian, Jake.” He grabbed his hat and led them out the door.

Sure enough, Wooton watched and frowned heavily as they walked out knowing full well that Steele was in charge. As they were approaching their horses, they saw two men digging through the packs. Again, Jake quickly drew his pistol. Steele put his hand on his wrist gently and stepped between him and the two men trying to steal.

“Okay guys. Drop everything right there. These people are under my protection, and if you take anything, I’ll bring the vigilantes out here to get you,” threatened Steele. Both men dropped everything and ran down the street to get away. Again Anne said,

“Thank you very much. We don’t know what to give you now.”

“Don’t worry a bit, I’d just recommend you get on those horses and move out before someone else tries to rob or kill your Indian husband.”

They did get on the horses and began quickly riding out of the town. Anne waved back at Steele as long as they could see him. That night they stayed with Niwot and spentthe time telling him about their work with the Governor much to his pleasure. The next day they began their trip back over the mountains. With each step Jake’s feelings recovered and they both became happier. Now they could start a new life with assurance that their land could be held.

Epilogue

Anne had decided to rest a bit now that she had finished cleaning the cabin. She sat on the bench outside the door and enjoyed looking again at the land around their home and the mountain ridges in all directions. Now that she had lived here for 22 years, she still felt it was the best place in the world for her and her family. Well, yes, there had always been problems that had to be taken care of, but the majority of the time had pleased her from the standpoint of the climate, the appearance and the ranching that was done. The lack of constant pressure from tribes and groups of people had not happened, and the friends and family that lived nearby had always been good. She was still convinced that life was much better here than other places that were constantly changing with the increase in people moving into so many areas. She lived here now for all of the 22 years with her family, and still loved it.

As her eyes ed over the surrounding mountain ridges they stopped again at the one that she and Jake used to check on other people traveling along the Bear River and possibly invading their land. The pain in her heart again increased in response to the feeling she had for the loss of the man she still loved—her husband Jake. She and the families that lived with them had buried him on the spot of the ridge that he traveled to each day to check on travelers along the Bear River. Oh yes, other people had changed the name of the river to the Yampa River, but neither she nor Jake had accepted that change.

She mourned again as she did so often about the way that Jake had been killed. Once again, it came vividly into her memory. When they had returned from what was now called Denver, they had been able to improve their ranch and develop a very good income. They had also kept the other families such as Jim, Hamm, Joe Walker and Jake’s brother not just as workers, but their very good friends. Each of them not only worked for Jake and Anne, but they also established their own ranches nearby. Oh, and by the way she and Jake had had four children—two

sons and two daughters.

Ah, but eight years ago was when she had lost her husband. During that summer, two men had ridden up during a hot day and asked if they could camp for a day before moving on to the Rabbit Ears . Jake had reluctantly agreed that they could spend the night, and told them to camp on the river away from the cabins. Both men smiled and spurred the horses to the spot to set up camp. Unfortunately, no one noticed that each man carried a revolver in a special holster.

Later in the day, both men walked back to the cabin and banged on the door. Unfortunately, Jake had gone to work on getting hay for the winter and Anne was forced to answer the door. Both men now looked strange and had trouble walking. Anne could smell alcohol and knew they both must have been drinking. The shortest man greeted her with a slippery smile on his face and immediately asked if they could have a job. She had responded that they would have to ask Jake. Despite that answer, they both argued that Jake was just an Injun, and she should let them know if they could have a job. She had refrained from an answer, and finally was able to force them both to their camp. It might have been because they were both very drunk.

When Jake returned that evening after dark, she told him about the attempt by the two men who had been drinking. He became angry, but agreed to wait until morning to make them leave. Sure enough, both of the men appeared in front of the house and yelled for Anne to come out of the house. Instead Jake walked out to advise them to leave. Again, the situation was bad. Both men were still drunk, but now they were ready to force their own way. They began in a sly way asking about a job. Jake simply said no, and demanded that they leave, but they began shouting, arguing and accusing Jake of being a stupid Injun. Unfortunately, Jake had not put his pistol on, but he moved toward the men to force them on their way. Instead of leaving, however, both men had drawn their pistols, and when Jake started walking toward them, they fired. Drunk or not, both men were good gunmen. Jake took one bullet through his chest and one through his forehead. He

died immediately.

Both men began laughing and slapped each other on the back to congratulate themselves on their success. Then they started toward the house announcing loudly that Anne was theirs and they were going to take over the whole place. While Anne’s heart was dropping with the fear that Jake had been injured, she grabbed her pistol and started for the door. She didn’t want to be caught inside the cabin. Outside the two men continued to approach, but her most devastating thing was seeing Jake laying on the ground. The tears began flowing down her cheeks, and she was totally confused by the upset. Both men laughed and announced that she was theirs. They were going to take her in the bed first. Not quite!

Hamm stepped around one side of the house with a rifle aimed at the small man and fired one shot that nearly took off his head. While Anne was weeping and shaking she fired her pistol at the other man as he turned toward Hamm. She hit him in the chest and he dropped to the ground. As he went down, she fired a second shot that went through his neck. He, too, died in a short time.

It had been a sad time that nearly caused Anne to become insane, but she slowly began to gain control of herself. It was all brought on by the need to take over the running of the ranch and work with her children. She had set up training for reading, writing, arithmetic and most importantly about religion for all of them even though they felt it was not necessary to learn such things. At one point, all but one of them had left the home. The oldest son had gone to California, gotten a job and married a Spanish woman. The oldest daughter had married Little Wolf, and they had moved into a nearby valley and started their own ranch. The second daughter had gone to Denver and then New York to get a degree in music, and she was rarely heard from. The youngest son had gone to Denver to work for ranchers in that area for five years, but now he was back and learning to manage Jake and Anne’s ranch. While he hadn’t told her so, she was pretty certain that he was getting together with one of the daughters of Jim, and moving more and more toward Christianity.

Ah well, she had done the best she could, and the ranch was doing well. She would stay here the rest of her life until she could go and Jake, her husband who she still loved strongly. With that conviction and assurance she was and would remain happy. She also moved continuously toward more Christian activities.