The high country, p.22
The High Country, page 22
“What is troubling you?” she asked when he walked back to the fire. “Do you think there are more bad men?”
He smiled at her. “No, I don’t believe there are any bad men out there, at least not around here. I just needed to take a walk.”
“I like it better when you stay close to me,” she said.
His smile widened. “I like it better that way, too. I think we’d best get a little sleep now. We’ll be leavin’ this place early in the mornin’.”
“Lester and Carrie already asleep,” Willow said, and held the blanket open for him to join her. He paused to consider the chilly night air and decided to keep his winter moccasins on his feet.
It had been a tiresome day and they were soon fast asleep. Sometime during the night, something awakened him. He listened, but there were no sounds to alert him. Willow was still deep in her dreams, pressed up against his back, her breathing steady and peaceful. Then he heard a breeze gently ruffling the tree leaves above them followed by a flash of light. He realized then what had awakened him and he looked up at a bright full moon shining through the holes caused by the breeze in the canopy of leaves over them. He had no idea how late it was, but Willow showed no sign of waking up and there were no sounds from Lester and Carrie on the other side of the fire. He started to turn over and go back to sleep, but then he had another thought. So he rolled out of the blanket, taking great care not to wake Willow, and moved quietly into the woods that bordered the river. It was too dark to see the footprint, even had he found it again, but he was sure he could find the tree he had discovered it beside. When he located the tree, he walked straight out to the edge of the bushes where there was nothing but tallgrass. In the bright moonlight, he saw a definite trail through the grass, leading toward the high ridge. Eager to prove that his hunch had been right, he followed the obvious trail up over the top of the ridge to the narrow valley on the other side. He stood for a long while, staring at the many tracks left by the horses and the trail that continued upriver. It confirmed what he already knew. They had ridden past the camp, so they could appear to be coming from the other direction and not chasing them. It also struck him again how much luck had been a factor in their survival. If Zachary Branch had simply attacked the camp where he had stopped to scout them, he would have likely killed most, if not all of them while they were making camp. The four of them could have sneaked through the trees and opened fire. It was a sobering thought, and he blamed himself for not realizing the wide wooded area with the high ridges beside it was a perfect ambush site. That was the real reason for his troubling feelings before Branch and his sons rode into the camp. He vowed to pay more attention to those feelings in the future.
Chapter 18
When he returned to the camp, he took a minute or two to place a couple of sticks of wood on the fire before lying down again. As quietly as he could manage, he tried to settle himself under the blanket, but Willow said, “I wake up, you not here.”
“I just got up to put some more wood on the fire,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”
“You go a long time to get it,” she replied. “I leave wood close by the fire, so you don’t have to go far.”
“I wanted special wood just to keep you warm, so go back to sleep. It won’t be long before we gotta get up.” He turned his back to her, and she clamped onto it until it was time to get up.
They packed up the horses and put the saddles back on the four that the Branch men had ridden, figuring that they were probably the best of their horses. After going through everything they found on their packhorses, they kept only some coffee, rope, flour, sugar, and some salt, which they packed on one of Lester’s packhorses. They loaded one of Branch’s packhorses with guns, knives, rifles, and powder and ball, all spoils from the attack. The other packhorses were left to make their own decision to follow or not. They set out once again, hoping to make at least fifteen miles along the rugged river before camping for the night.
They continued to follow the river until finally reaching the pass that would one day be known as the Monida Pass, named that because it led from Montana Territory to Idaho Territory. To the party traveling through the rugged mountain pass that day, it presented a test of endurance for man and horse until they descended—to face the next challenge. That was a journey of around five or six days across a basically treeless stretch of rolling hills with infrequent water holes. Thankfully, Jug had known the trail to follow to strike the few creeks and streams, so Luke was simply following it on the way back. His main worry was the fact that the hilly prairie was devoid of trees for cover or firewood.
They stopped about twenty miles after they left the pass at a strong creek running north and south. Luke advised Lester and Carrie to fill all containers they had available to carry water because of the long stretches between some of the streams. He and Willow did the same because he remembered thinking some of the streams they had found on the way to Big Hole looked to be down to a trickle. He remembered that there was another creek about ten miles from this one. But he didn’t want to count on it to fill their water containers because it had looked like it was lower than it should have been when they crossed it the first time.
“Don’t want you to get discouraged,” he told Lester. “Because when we make it to Pierre’s Hole, everything will be all right. There’s plenty of water to drink, and there’s plenty of deer to hunt in Pierre’s Hole. So just keep thinkin’ that you’ve got that waitin’ for you.” He saw no reason to advise them of his main concern between there and Pierre’s Hole, which was that their slow moving train of packhorses was vulnerable to attack from any band of outlaws or Indians of three or more members. When he and Jug and Willow rode out to the Big Hole Valley, they were lucky not to have seen anyone else while crossing this stretch of hilly land. The odds were pretty good that this return trip would be the same. He found himself hoping that he had not used up all his luck back on the Red Rock River and Zachary Branch’s attack, however.
After they left the stream, following a faint trail across the grass covered hills, they traveled within sight of a small herd of antelope that seemed to keep pace with their horses. They stayed in sight for close to two miles, but just out of range of Luke’s Pennsylvania long rifle. They grazed the rough grass as they moved, prompting Lester to shout up to Luke. “You think they really know how far your long rifle shoots?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Luke shouted back. “I’d really like to see one come into range of my bow. Noise carries out here.”
When they came to the second creek, Luke found that it was no lower than it had been the last time he saw it. And although they had gone only ten miles from the bigger creek where they filled their containers, he thought it a good idea to stop and rest the horses there overnight, and let them get all the water they wanted before pushing on. It was necessary to ride a little farther up the stream than usual before making camp. The creeks and streams were the only places where there were any bushes or trees. And even though the old Indian trail they followed was not known to many, most all sources for firewood had been used up for some distance on both sides of the trail. There had evidently never been buffalo that roamed these hills, because there was no sign of any buffalo chips, the standard fuel of the northern prairies.
Since they had seen antelope pacing them during the day, Luke and Lester both went in search of antelope after a supper of smoked venison. Luke went upstream, Lester went downstream. They carried only their bows for the hunting and a pair of pistols for protection. They both returned to the camp without having sighted anything to shoot at. Lester, however, did not return empty-handed. He found a small sample of what he assumed was dried antelope dung and he brought it back to see if it burned the same as buffalo chips. When he placed it in the edge of the campfire, it caught fire easily and burned up. Carrie, full-blood Shoshone that she was, informed him that he could simply have asked her and she would have told him it would burn. “Now go downstream and wash your hands before you come to bed,” she said.
Starting early again the next morning, they rode close to ten miles before stopping to rest the horses. Since there was no source of water where they stopped, they hand watered the horses sparingly from the water they had brought with them. With hopes that his memory served him properly, he planned to push the horses another ten miles after they rested. That would bring them to another stream where they would stay the night and get all the water they wanted. This twenty mile stretch was the longest without water that he remembered, and he asked Willow to be sure. She confirmed it, so he was satisfied that the water problem would no longer be severe after this day’s travel.
They had seen no sign of Indians so far, and if their luck held out until they reached Pierre’s Hole, they would be in Shoshone and Bannack territory. Both tribes were friendly to the white man, and many of them would most likely be at the Rendezvous. He knew that Carrie and Lester were hoping to see someone from Carrie’s village at the Rendezvous, for they were not sure where her village was at the present time.
At least they thought they knew what they wanted to do. Luke was unsure what he wanted to do after this year’s Rendezvous. Being a married man, he felt he should know what was best for Willow and himself. It all depended on what he might find out about the future of the beaver market. As it stood at the present time, no one knew if beaver fur was still going to shine next year or not. Unlike Lester, he didn’t particularly want to live with Willow’s village, what there was left of it. He didn’t object to living in a Crow village, if that was what Willow wanted. But he found himself leaning more toward striking out for the Oregon or California territory. There were reports of gold showing up in some streams in Montana Territory. He might like to try his hand at that on his way to California. He and Willow were young enough to try a few different things till they found one that fit. The main thing right now was to get these plews to the market, for those pelts were going to have to pay for their start on the rest of their lives.
When he thought the horses were ready, they started out across the next ten miles or so of the seemingly endless hills. The horses began to show signs of tiring after what he estimated to be around six miles. He eased up a hair on the pace but kept them moving. He dismounted and led Thunder, but he could not lighten the load his two packhorses were carrying. When Willow saw him dismount, she slid off her horse as well. Then Lester and Carrie did the same. Luke appreciated their attempt to help but knew there was no relief for the horses carrying the heavy loads. He figured he could stop and take the packs off, but they would still be without water, and water was what they needed most of all. He continued walking, but he was starting to be afraid that he was going so slow that the horses would just quit, when he saw the line of trees ahead that indicated the presence of a creek. The horses must have sensed it, for they increased their slow walk, if only slightly.
When they got to the creek, they let the horses go straight to the water to drink. Then when the horses were satisfied, they led them to the spot they selected to camp on and unloaded the packs. “Well, I reckon I damn-near killed the horses,” Luke said, “these two packhorses for sure. When we leave in the mornin’, I think I’ll load these plews on two of those horses totin’ saddles and give my horses time to recuperate a little.”
“I reckon that ain’t a bad idea,” Lester said. “I think those two horses were about two minutes short of breakin’ down, judgin’ from what I could see ridin’ behind ’em.” He nodded his head in the direction of the creek where the free-running horses were still drinking. “I ain’t surprised that most of your free herd left us after we left that last stream. When they started gittin’ thirsty, they most likely turned around and went back to where they knew the water was.”
Once all the horses were unloaded, Luke spent a little more time with them to try to see any signs of permanent harm done to any of them. When he had concluded there was no real damage done, he thanked his lucky stars and went to help Willow get a fire started. They had no more fresh meat, but they had plenty of smoked meat for the women to cook. After that, he took a little walk along the creek on both sides, so he could get a picture of which direction trouble might come from.
Their journey continued without any major incident, however, and when they reached Pierre’s Hole, they stayed over for an extra day and night to hunt deer on the river. Their food supply sufficiently stocked, they rode out of Pierre’s Hole, through Teton Pass. By-passing Jackson’s Hole, they followed the Hoback River to the trail that took them to the Green River with a trip remaining of two weeks or so to reach the Rendezvous.
* * *
In spite of the heavy loads on two of the horses, they were able to make good time for the next few days as they followed the now familiar trail along the Green River. The days passed without incident, and they met no other travelers on the road. Luke was confident that they would reach the Rendezvous in less time than he had originally figured—this in spite of the fact that they had cut one day’s travel short when a deer jumped across their trail. Luke had quickly loaded his rifle and got a shot off before the deer was out of range. They camped beside the Green River that night, planning to eat breakfast before starting out on the final leg of their journey.
The next morning, while they were eating fresh venison, they heard the sound of someone approaching on the Green River trail. At once alert, Luke and Lester grabbed their weapons and prepared to defend the camp. The horses exchanged inquisitive whinnies with the horses on the trail, and in a few minutes, Luke and the others saw a couple of obvious trappers leading three packhorses.
“Hello, the camp!” one of the trappers yelled upon seeing Luke and Lester standing in the trees away from the trail. “Whaddaya waitin’ for? Gotta get there before the likker runs out!” They didn’t pause to visit, just passed on by.
Luke and Lester looked at each other and laughed. “Well, it looks like we’re on the right path,” Lester said. “I weren’t sure you knew where we was goin’.”
They went back to the fire to tell the women there was no danger of attack for the moment. “Lester says we’re on the right path,” Luke said, “so let’s eat and we’ll pack up and get started down the river.”
Underway again, they could see signs of a lot of travel on the trail. “For sure, we ain’t gonna be the first ones there, are we?” Lester said. They pushed on along the trail until they figured it was getting to be time to rest the horses again. When they soon came to a wide stream, they decided it was time to eat dinner, anyway. So they pulled off the trail and unloaded the heavier packs.
Willow and Carrie were washing the pans in the little stream they had stopped beside when they heard someone coming on the trail behind them. They looked at once toward the men to see if they had heard them, too. They had and both of them picked up their rifles and Luke signaled the women to come back up from the stream. To Luke, the sounds he heard were sounds of a couple of men calling back and forth to each other, so he was not overly concerned. But it paid to be ready just in case. In a couple of minutes, the first rider appeared, a typical-looking trapper leading two packhorses. Behind him, another trapper followed, also leading two packhorses. “Hello, the camp,” the first rider called out when he saw them. “Mind if we stop long enough to water the horses?”
“Howdy,” Luke answered. “Help yourself. You headin’ to Rendezvous?”
“Matter of fact,” the man said. “You headin’ that way?”
“Yep, after we rest our horses up for a spell,” Luke said. They rode on into the stream and stopped in the middle of it while their horses drank the water. “I don’t know how far down the Green it is this year,” Luke admitted. “Do you?”
“The word we got was that it’s pretty far down Green River, but the center of activity is closer to Ham’s Fork,” the first man’s partner answered. “At least, that’s where we’re headin’.”
“Ham’s Fork,” Luke repeated, “that’s a good piece west of here right now. You sure you got the right message?”
“Well, it’s a fair piece from right here, but it runs back toward the Green, and there’s a trail off to the west about three miles from here that leads you to Ham’s Fork. There’s supposed to be a broke wagon wheel leanin’ up against a tree, so you’ll know it’s the right trail. That’s the way we’re headin’.”
“The fellow that told you this, did he say how far it is on that trail before you strike Ham’s Fork?” Luke asked.
“He didn’t know exactly, but he guessed it was about twelve or thirteen miles. I believe he was probably right. He’d already been down there. He runs a saloon every year at Rendezvous—Red Duncan’s his name.”
“Red’s Place,” Luke said. “I expect he told you the truth.”
“You know Red?”
“I’ve had a couple of drinks in his place every time I’ve been to Rendezvous,” Luke said. “Maybe we’ll see you at Red’s.”
“Might at that,” the man returned, and rode up out of the stream to get back on the trail down the river.
Lester watched them until they rode out of sight. He came back to the fire and asked Luke, “You reckon they’re right about cuttin’ across to Ham’s Fork?”
“I expect they might be,” Luke said, “and if they are, it would make sense to cut across to Ham’s Fork. We’ll rest the horses a little while longer, then look for that trail he said was there.”
They gave the horses another forty-five minutes before loading them up and starting out again. After riding what he figured to be about two and a half miles, Luke started looking for the broken wagon wheel. They had ridden what he calculated to be closer to four miles when he spotted the smaller trail branching off to the right. Sure enough, there was a broken wagon wheel leaning against a tree. There were plenty of tracks showing that a lot of travelers had taken the alternate trail. He pointed that out to Lester. “Lookin’ at the tracks, it appears more folks cut off here than folks that stayed on the Green River trail. So I reckon we oughta do the same thing. I wouldn’t be surprised if ol’ Red Duncan was the one who put that wagon wheel there to bring everybody by his saloon.”
