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The Fur Seekers
© Copyright 2010 by W.R. Benton and Dahlia Patton, All Rights Reserved.
CHAPTER 1
The wagons wheels creaked and moaned loudly as it moved slowly over the open plains moving west. Occasionally the wagon dropped suddenly, or rose high in the air, depending on rocks or ditches encountered, causing its two riders to bounce in all directions.
“By golly son, I'll be glad when this trip is over. I ain't never in my life been on a trip like this-un here.” A portly middle-aged man wearing homespun stated as he pushed his hat back on his head. His brown hair, streaked with gray, was long, as was his beard. Silver wire-rimmed glasses were perched low on his nose.
“It's near stoppin' time, ain't it pa?” Joshua asked.
“Couple mo' miles and we'll call ‘er a day.”
John Franklin was a good God-fearing man, who was determined to take his goods to the annual fur rendezvous in the shining mountains and make some fast money. He'd heard of other folks in Saint Louis wanting do it, so he'd decided he'd give the trip a try. While he'd heard of a couple of big fur companies sewed up most of the trading at the rendezvous, he felt they would welcome a man carrying the things he had to offer. He'd loaded four wagons with the contents of his general store, hired eight men, and headed west with his only son.
One of the men he'd hired was Jacob Eller, a drunken has-been mountain man, who warned him against the trip. While he'd stated the trip was almost impossible to make with a group of men this small, he'd taken the job because he had no money or hopes of finding any. This was also the only chance he had to dry out and try to pull what was left of his life back together.
At that moment, Eller rode up beside the wagon and said, “I spotted the sign of ‘bout a dozen Injun ponies up ahead a mite. They was moving north, so there's a good chance they'll not find us.”
“How do ya know they was Injuns?” John asked.
“Unshod and carryin' weight and that means Injuns to me.” He replied, pulling a long twist of tobacco from his possibles bag and cutting off a piece. Placing the tobacco in his mouth, he chewed for a few seconds, leaned over, sent a line of brown juice to the grasses, and added, “Most likely they be Sioux in this part of the country.”
“Mean bunch?” Joshua asked. He strongly favored his pa, with brown hair and almost eighteen years old. He'd spent his whole life living in Cold Springs, Missouri and trip was a great adventure for him.
“Mean as y'all will ever want to see, son. They're a lot like a full time wife, nice one minute and then mean as all get out the next. Ya cain't neveh figure out what a Sioux will do next.”
John scanned the countryside and then asked, “What do ya suggest?”
“Keep movin', ‘cause there ain't no way ya can cover these deep ruts yer leavin' in the ground. ‘Sides, we cain't outrun ‘em.”
“Did ya find a place to spend the night? We'll have to stop here in a bit, ‘cause my hosses are ‘bout done in.”
“Uh-huh, found a place quarter a mile along and she's right beside a stream. Now, let's hurry and get there in case them Injun's come back.”
At that point, Joshua heard a deep distant rumbling of thunder and looking west, he saw dark gray clouds moving toward them. Turning to his father he said, “Looks like rain, pa.”
“Yup, it does at that.” He replied and then looking at Eller, he added, “We'll be there directly.” He flicked the reins to the horses and they began to roll once again as Eller moved out front to lead the way.
The wind picked up slightly, threatening rain, and when Joshua looked west once more, he could see it raining off in the distance. I hope we have the chance to make a shelter before all that rain gets here, he thought as he pulled the brim of his hat down.
“Son, reach behind us and pull them two oilcloths out. It looks like that rain might hit a-fore we can get a camp made.”
Reaching into the wagon, he asked, “Ya think it will?
Taking an oilcloth from his son, John replied, “Mayhap it will, or so I'm thinkin'.”
A little later, the wagon topped a rise and in the valley below was a long line of cottonwood trees running alongside a small meandering stream. A movement caught their eyes in the valley and they spotted a mounted Keller, waving his hat in his right hand. John moved the wagon to the man and when he pulled up the mountain man said, “Put all of the wagons back in those trees, but don't circle ‘em. I think we're in fer trouble.”
Meeting the man's eyes, John asked, “How's that? Did ya see more sign?”
“It's a feelin' I get when I'm bein' watched. Just get camp set up and then we'll talk some more.”
After a camp was established the rains came—hard. Running under the canvas of the shelter, Joshua laughed, looked at his pa and said, “Rainin' hard, do ya think we'll move in the mornin'?”
“It depends on the mud.”
“I saw ya talkin' with Eller.”
“Yep,” John replied, “but I don't put much faith in the man's feelin's. He thinks them Injuns doubled back and have been watchin' us fer a spell.”
“He could be right, pa.”
“Well, iffen he is, we'll face that problem when it comes,” John spoke, reached behind him and pulled a small bag forward. Reaching inside, he pulled out a long strip of dried beef, a chunk of cornbread, and two small pieces of rock candy. Handing them to Joshua, he said, “Eat this, ‘cause it might be all ya get a-fore mornin'. Iffen this rain keeps up we'll have no fires this night either.”
Taking the food from his father, Joshua lowered his head, said a prayer of thanks and then began to eat the meager meal. Since they'd left Cold Springs, he'd had very few meals that weren't hot.
Suddenly, from the furthest wagon came a yell barely heard over the loud tattoo of rain on the stretched canvas of the shelter, “They're after the hosses! Get to the hosses!”
Joshua and his father ran toward their horses, only to see two mounted warriors riding away, taking most of the herd with them. Raising their rifles, both pulled triggers, but only Joshua's rifle fired due to wetness. The warrior's arms went high, his back arched and he fell to the muddy ground. Other men fired their rifles as well, but in a matter of seconds, the horses were lost from sight in the pounding rain.
Moving in the direction of the warrior he'd shot, Joshua heard his father say, “Don't go out there, son! Leave the body where it fell.”
“Okay, pa.” He replied in a disappointed voice. He'd wanted to see the dead brave up close.
Eller walked up to the two and said, “I need to talk with ya right now, Mister Franklin. It's impo'nt.”
“Let's go to my shelter then.”
Mud clung to their boots and the rain increased in force, along with the wind, as they walked. Once inside John asked, “Now, what's mo' impo'nt than our hosses?”
Eller gave him a wink and without a smile said, “How ‘bout yer hair?”
“My hair? What in the world are ya talkin' about?”
“Stealin' our hosses was just a start for the Sioux. Now that we're stuck here, they can kill us when they want to do the job.”
“Ya mean they took them to keep us from movin'?”
“Exactly, and they know yer wagons are pullin' heavy loads, so they suspect ya got things in the wagon they'll want. It's come to wet powder and no way to dry ‘er.”
“What is that suppose to mean?”
“It means we're in a world of hurt and the way I see it, the only way out is to leave these wagons once it gets dark, break up into small groups and try to get back to Missouri on foot.”
John's face turned red and he all but yelled, “I ain't leavin' everythin' I own to these thieves red skins. I'll not let ‘em have a dang thing!”
Eller shrugged his shoulders and then asked, “Serious like, how do we get yer stuff to the roonyvoo now? We cain't pack it all out on our backs and besides, I think the Sioux will attack us come first light.”
“We'll fight ‘em then! And, I'll worry ‘bout movin' my supplies after they fight, if there is one.”
“Okay, I hear ya, and there will be a fight, but we'll lose,” Eller replied and then walked from the shelter.
Morning came with clear skies and mud ankle deep in some spots. Joshua knew there would be no travel on this day, even if they had horses. Looking around, he spotted two horses left from twenty and for the life of him; he could not figure how his pa intended to get his wagons to the annual fur rendezvous.
He was standing near a wagon making water, when he heard a hideous wobbling cry of pain. Quickly buttoning his trousers, he turned to see the Sioux attacking on horseback. Picking up his rifle, which he'd leaned against the wagon, he ran forward. A man's body was lying near the fire, with three arrows buried deep in his chest—he was unmoving.
“Find shelter and return their fire. Make sure ya have a clear target a-fore ya shoot!” Eller yelled as he raised his Hawken, picked a target and fired. Joshua saw a brave knocked hard from his running horse.
Moving behind a large boulder, the young man knew they were all going to die, because on the rise above them, he saw over a hundred braves watching the battle. A warrior abruptly rode right for him, screaming a loud war cry, as his horse's hooves threw mud high in the air. Bringing his rifle up, Joshua lined up his sights, took a deep breath and as he released it, he gently squeezed the trigger. The sound of his shot was loud in the cool morning air and he smiled as his target fell from his horse, slid on the wet grasses, and then came to a stop. When the warrior began to thrash in pain a man near Joshua put a bullet in the man's head.
The warriors immediately split into four different groups and attacked the white men from different sides. In a matter of just minutes, the small defense was breached and the fighting became hand-to-hand. A large warrior ran straight for him, but Joshua raised the barrel of his rifle and jerked the trigger. The ball from the big bore gun struck the man in the head, spraying the air behind him with blood and gore.
Before he had the time to reload, a Sioux warrior struck him hard in the left shoulder from behind and brought instant pain. Dropping his rifle and spinning around, Joshua pulled his horse pistol and fired, taking his attacker in the middle of the chest. The warrior fell to his knees, gave a look of surprise and then fell face down in the mud.
Keller moved up beside the young lad and said, “Come with me! We're bein' over-ran!”
“What ‘bout my pa?” Joshua asked as he scanned the fight around him looking for his father.
“He's dead son, I saw him take a lance in the chest! Hurry now!”
While he went with the mountain man, he was unsure it was the right thing to do with his father missing. They moved to the wagons and then melted into the cottonwoods that lined the stream. As they moved through the woods, Joshua could hear the horrible screams of men dying. He would remember their screams forever.
All day they constantly moved west, out to the open plains, and were lucky they had retained their weapons. Earlier, when they escaped, Joshua had picked up an oilcloth and blanket lying on the seat of a wagon. Other than what they had on, that was all in the way of supplies. The young boy was scared, full of grief over his father's death, and dog-tired. They had waited for the Indians to start going through the wagons before they'd chanced a run to the plains and so far it looked as if they'd not been followed. Probably too busy stealin' pa's supplies to follow us, he thought in deep anger as he walked.
“Young coon, I hope ya know we're in a world of hurt. We're hundreds of miles from anywhere, no horses, and alone. We're easy pickin's fer any Injuns we might meet.”
Joshua stopped walking, looked at the man and said, “I don't see ‘er that way. We still got our feet, we ain't injured, ‘cept for a small cut on my back, and we still got our guns. Ya lead us in the right direction and we'll get there.”
Keller gave a light chuckle and replied, “Ya got the h'ar of the b'ar, ya surely do younger.”
Joshua wasn't sure what that meant, so he starting walking again—westward.
An hour later, Keller stopped and pointed in the shallow valley below. He could see the remains of something, but of what he could not tell. The old mountain man said, “Downed buff and we should check ‘er out to see if the meats still fresh.”
“What if it is?”
“We'll cut off a bit and take it for our dinner. I don't want to fire a shot this close to where the attack took place, iffen we can help it.”
The buffalo was lying on its left side and Keller pointed out the big shaggy beast was killed by a grizzly. The dead animal, partially covered with grasses and sticks, looked recently killed. There was no sign of the bear. The entrails were gone and front quarters chewed up. Joshua watched as the old man knelt and removed a rear quarter, waving his hand to keep the flies away. Throwing the meat on his back he said, “Let's make tracks. I don't want to be anywhere near here when that bear comes back to eat again.”
As they walked, the boy asked, “We're gonna eat meat a bear's done et on?”
Keller gave a tooth-gapped smile and replied, “Uh-huh, unless ya have a better idea. This meat's fairly fresh and we cain't afford to fire a shot, so I don't see no better way to fill our meat bags.”
“I'll eat ‘er, but it don't mean I'll like doin' the job.” The boy replied and almost gagged at the thought of eating the tainted meat.
“Young coon, ya'll do lots of things in yer life ya ain't gonna like, but they'll have to be done.”
Darkness found them still out on the plains, so Keller said, “We'll spend the night in a gully, with one of us awake at all times. We'll eat, put the fire out, and move on for about a mile. That way if anybody smells our cookin' fire, they'll not find us. I don't want no fire where we'll finally sleep. Smoke and food smells carry too far in the wind.”
Moving to a shallow gully, they made a fire and the meat was stuck on small sticks cut from a cottonwood tree. As the meat cooked, leaning near the dancing flames, Joshua asked, “What's it like to live like a mountain man?”
The man looked up, smiled and said, “It's a hard life takin' plews is, but a good life fer some. It's dangerous don't ya see, with the critters, Injuns, and weather all out to kill ya. But, there's a beauty to the mountains that few fellers ever get to see and once ya've been there, well, it's somethin' ya'll never get it out of yer mind.”
“Why'd ya leave ‘em then?”
“I didn't mean to stay away this long. I come into town with three hosses loaded down with plews, sold ‘em, and started drinkin'. I drank until I ran out of money and then yer pa offered me a job. I fig'ered once I got at the roonyvoo, I would go in with a couple of fellers and start trappin' ‘gain.”
Joshua stared at the flames of the small fire for a few minutes and then asked, “What am I gonna do? Ma died years back of fever, now pa's gone, and I don't have no other family.”
“Yer big ‘nough to make ‘er on yer own. Ya ever thought of trappin' beavers?”
The lad laughed lightly and replied, “Only durin' daydreams. I don't know iffen I have what it takes to trap.”
“Son, ya've fought Injuns and done a good job of ‘er too, so I ‘spect ya have what it takes. Only, yer still a greenhorn, with a lot to learn yet.”
“Who'd take a kid as a trapper?”
“I would, if-un it was ya.” Keller replied and then continued, “How ‘bout it young coon, ya wanna go in cahoots with the likes of ole Pike?”
Looking up from the flickering flames, Joshua asked, “Who's Pike?”
“That's my mountain man name. See, a long time back I found part of one of them old spears the Spanish army used to carry and I learned it's called a pike. Now all my mountain man friends call me by the name Pike. Ya stay in the mountains a spell and ya'll get a mountain man name too.”
“Do you think . . .” Joshua started speaking, but Pike waved him quiet, cupped his left ear with his hand and then whispered, “Put the fire out and do ‘er now! Injuns!”
Available in January 2010
