In the Shadow of the Mountain
© 2004 By W. R. Benton, All rights Reserved
Published by Publish America
Released on 27 June 2005
ISBN 1-4137-7056-8
This manuscript may not be reproduced in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, recording, or in any information shorage or retrieval system. All rights belong to the author and the publisher. All characters are from the imaginations of the authors and do not represent any persons living or dead. Any similarities between real persons and the characters in this manuscript are a coincidence.
CHAPTER 1
“Hell fire, I know them Injuns is mad at us somethin’ terrible.” I spoke as I wiped the grease from my hands onto my leggings. I took another bite of the buffalo rib and continued, “I never seen a man cut raw whiskey with coal oil and rotted fish. But, she damn sure adds the color to it. How many furs did we get for that whiskey any ways?”
“Ya talk too damn much, Mule.” Jed gave me a shy grin as he turned his roasting meat over the fire. I noticed his hands were dirty and shook a little as he worked the meat over the flame. Jed was a big man, well over six and half feet tall. He was big, but not fat. His whole frame was of muscle and big bones. Also, he was an educated man and how he came to be in the shining mountains was anyone’s guess. I had never asked him about it, because some things you just don't ask a man.
“I figure our hun’nerd dollar investment done turned us a pretty penny. I bet we got more than fifteen hun’nerd dollars in furs over there. You had a good idea, letting them bucks get drunk 'fore we traded them more whiskey. We got the whole she-bang from them boys. At least this time your trade was almost honest. Onliest thang that bothers me is, I wish you would stop being such a cheat with them red folks. One day it will cost us our hair.”
“Ya talk too damn much, Mule. ‘Sides, ya worry too much too.” Jed stated as he took a big bite out of buffalo meat and leaned back against the log behind him. I watched, fascinated, as the juices ran down his beard. Suddenly I had a strange thought, bet if his beard caught on fire, the grease would sure cause it to flare up nicely. Only, I don’t ever mess with Jed.
Now, Jed and I go back a long time, in mountain terms. We had started out together when the beaver trade had just begun. Since it was still doing well, and we was doin' well, we just stayed together. That was damn near four years ago. Most folks here abouts don’t last more ‘n a year or two before they quit or give up the ghost. Jed and me, while we are smarter than the average coons, we were also dumber than some. Like the deal we just had with the Injuns. Could be, if they sober up fast enough, we will find our butts kilt. It all worried me some and so did just staying alive in the mountains. But, what the hell, ya only live once.
It was late night, actually almost early morning. A false dawn would soon be breaking over the mountains. We had stopped for a couple hours before we made our way to the trading post to dump the skins we had gotten from the Injuns. While we were in great shape, our horses were beat. And, we had a lot further to go.
“Time to get the day started.” Jed said as he stood, picked up his blanket, and walked over to his horse. As he moved, I finally noticed how dirty his buckskins were. Grease and oil seemed to have turned the once light brown skins into a muddy dark brown. The grease stains were darker on his fore legs and on the front of his shirt. I suspected that came from his wiping his oily hands on his pants, as he ate. Additionally, the drippin’s as he ate would drop onto his shirt. Then again, as Jed chewed his ever-present tobacco, he would from time to time, let the juice run down his chin and onto his shirt. While Mister manners and sanitariness he wasn’t, he was my best friend.
“Jed,” I started to talk to him as I tied my valuables to my horse. “We best be out of this area and way on our trip to the fort before them red men wake up. If not, we are gone beaver.”
“If you would shut up long enough, we will kindly leave the local area for the time being. I have given the manner of relocation serious thought.” Jed spoke as he mounted his horse and rode off onto the deer trail, before I could respond. I could however, and I did, follow him.
Once I caught up with him, the morning past quickly with little to discuss. I wasn’t real sure he wanted to talk much anyways. He could be down right moody some days. I think it might have been from all of that college educatin’ he had back east. The man could quote all kinds of strange people, Snakes-spear, Homer, and somebody named Beacon or Bacon. Some of his quotes didn’t even sound like English to me. While I can sign my name, cipher a bit, and even read parts of the newspaper, only language I got any use for is English. Oh, I speak a bit of Sioux, Osage, or Crow, but I ain't hardly fluent in none of them. Of course, like all mountain men, I know Indian sign language. I guess my feelings might be ‘cause I never had no need for any other language. But, the man could talk funny and downright purty when he put his mind to it.
Around midday we took a breather to get some grub in us and some rest and water for the horses. The sun was hot and I was sweating as I started the fire with my flint and steel. I had just struck the first spark when I heard Jed speak, “We have visitors.” I suspected the Indians had done caught up with us. I sure dreaded this part of my day. I knew it could turn down right ugly. I just knew I was a dead man.
As I raised to have me a better look see, I noticed two Indians standing next to an old pine tree about one hundred yards away. They were too far for me to determine what tribe, but I was sure they were up to no good. See, Indians, are a lot like other folks in some ways. Some was good and some were not so good. If you wanted to visit someone, would you stand back and watch them? But, then again, if they wanted our hair they would be here already. It was a might corn-fusing.
Abruptly I notice them walking toward us with their right arms raised in peace. Well, at least they were not part of the group we had dealin’s with last night. The raised hands meant they were unarmed, or not supposed to be aggressive. I knew the ones from last night would be mad. As they neared I could see they were Pawnee. Far as I knew we were still friends with them, but they were a might east of were they normally were. At least I was fairly sure we had not traded with them yet and therefore they should still be friendly.
“Hello Standing Cow and Many Tongues!” Jed yelled to the approaching men.
“Hello, Big Liar!” came the response from Jed’s two red friends. I was concerned once more. He knew them and as far as I was concerned that meant he had been less than honest with them before. And, of course, just his Indian name was a real bad sign in my book. They obviously knew him.
“Jed, do you know them two red niggers?”
“Well, ya dumb fool, I did call them by name didn’t I?”
“Jed, should I be concerned?”
“Not unless ya want to live. Last time I saw them they was a bit upset ‘cause I had traded them some gunpowder. How was I to know it was wet?”
I jerked at the snapping sound of the hammer on his Hawken rifle being pulled back. I was right, this did not look good. I was fit to be tied. Here I was in the shinning mountains, about to be killed by wild red men, all because my buddy was a dishonest trader.
As the Indians neared I pulled the hammer back on my rifle as well. Damn! If the Injuns didn’t kill me, my fear surely would. I was at the end of my ropes with all of Jed’s dealin’s.
“Jed, if-un I live through today, me and you are finished. You have dang near got me kilt too many times. I’m going to get me a cabin in the mountains, grow some cows, make some corn squeezings, and then find me a wife. You just make me mad to no unend Jed!”
The taller Indian approached the campfire, kneeled down, and picked up a large piece of raw buffalo. He cooked it for a few minutes without speaking and then began to eat. As he ate the blood ran down his chin. I could feel his hatred for the two of us. It was then that Jeb spoke, “Well, how ya been Many Tongues? Good to see you still kicking the bush.”
“White man lie. Big Liar, is great liar. You will die today before the sun is finished.” I noticed the brave was taller than most Indians. His other not so positive attributes were his huge muscles, clean even white teeth, and his mood was for sure evil. This man, I said to myself, wants our hair.
“Now, Many Tongues, let the soup simmer for a bit. I had no idea the powder I traded you was wet. Listen, I got some good whiskey here, left over from another trade, I will just give you as a gift. I feel real sorry about the powder problem.” I was amazed at Jed. My man could sure lie and do it with a straight face. 'Sides, his confession of not knowing of the wet powder just admitted his guilt, in my book. Why? Why no one but him had brought it up.
“Whiss-key?” the other brave said with a look of disbelief on his face, followed instantly by a crooked smile. I was happy that his appearance was more standard of most Indians. He was short, semi-plump, and looked to be in good health. His stature, however, was not intimidating to me. I also noticed his face was pocked from a severe case of small pox or of measles.
“Good whiskey Standing Cow. Best whiskey this side of the Mississippi river. Why I bet ya just one drink would pickle your insides ‘fore ya could say the charter of the Mayflower.”
“May-flover Whiss-key?” Many Tongues asked with a look of doubt on his chopper.
“Never mind. Would the great braves of the Pawnee nation be honored to accept my gift of whiskey for the damp powder?” Jed was smilin’ like he was talking a farmer out of a night in the barn with his only daughter. He sure wanted to seal this trade. And, not a bad trade in my book, our scalps for some rotgut whiskey.
“Why I no kill you and take whiskey with your scalp?”
“You could do that, maybe, Many Tongues, but then where would you get more whiskey later? Or, I just might kill you first.” Jed, now, he never lacked nerve when a situation called for it.
“Easy there now Jed. Don’t get these boys started lookin’ for hair. Build up the whiskey, not a fight.” I said, and I must have fidgeted a bit at this point. See, I knew we could just kill these too men and be done with it. But, dog-gone it, we just didn’t have that many friends left. If we kilt these two, there would soon be many more on our tails. I didn't want to have to dodge the whole Pawnee Nation for a few years. I was tired of being run after by half the red population.
“Hummmp.” Tongues just gave a crooked grin and stared at the two of us.
“Follow me, you two good for nothing, horse stealing, back shooting, scalp takin’, coffee drinking, red niggers for some good sipping whiskey.” Jed’s lanky form moved over to a nearby pine tree where we had our supplies.
“May-flover whiss-key!” Standing Cow mumbled as he followed Jed like a little schoolboy after a teacher.
Jed reached our supplies, pulled back the tarp covering, and removed a large jug of our spirits. He pulled the cork on the bottle and appeared to be taking a long drink. I was amazed. Neither of us would touch the stuff. It was purely nasty. Onliest thing was, there stood Jed a-drinkin’ our rotgut. I reckoned the only reason he could stand to drink it was he just didn't have much of a choice. As bad as it was, it beat losing your hair.
“Awww, good corn squeezin’s.” Jed spoke as he removed the one gallon bottle from his lips.
Both of the braves had big eyes and a thirsty look as Jed held the bottle. Many Tongues actually leaned closer to Jeb. Of course knowing they wanted the bottle, Jed raised it once more. I shivered as I watched him take another drink. This time when he removed the bottle from his lips, he handed it to Standing Cow. Looking at me he said, “Ya know, after a couple drinks the stuff ain't half bad.” He gave a wide smile to no one in particular.
Now, I have to admit a thing or two. Them Injuns could drink. Both of them had a holler leg. First, I was astonished by how quickly and how much they could drink. Second, they remained standing after do it. While Tongue's eyes crossed after the first gulp and Standing Cow yelled a loud, “Hot Damn!” Them boys could drink coal oil I do believe.
“Good whiss-key.” Tongues said after about ten minutes. I noticed his eyes were a bit out of alignment and watering and his face was flushed.
“How many whiss-key’s you have?” Standing Cow asked Jed with a fierce look in his eyes. I hoped we had enough to keep us alive. And, this red boy looked real thirsty.
“One more big bottle after that one.”
“We take. You leave the land of the Pawnee. You are bad medicine for our people Big Liar.” Many Tongues spoke with a solemn voice, like he was a big chief or somebody im’potant. He spoke with sign language as he talked as well. His hands were flyin' all over the place. Last time I saw hands moving like that had been when this Italian man in New York caught me in bed with his wife. After all, how did I know she was married?
As soon as Jed handed them the other bottle the two warriors walked off into the woods. No sooner had the red men disappeared than we were loaded up and on the trail again. We for sure wanted to make a few miles before them two got fired up on that whiskey. Sure, the odds were they would just go to sleep, but you never knew about an Injun.
As we moved, not a word was spoken by either of us for more than six hours. We covered about ten miles on the trail and stopped to hole up in a cave we knew about. It was a good spot to spend the night. The entrance was covered with pine trees that would filter the smoke from our cooking fire, and the hole was large enough to bring both horses inside for shelter. You had to almost walk up on the place to find it. For the first time in days I felt secure. Well, as secure as you ever get when you travel with Jed.
We had traveled so much together that we never or I should say very rarely spoke when we made a camp. We both did our chores and soon had the place organized. In less than thirty minutes a large piece of deer meat was roasting over the fire, cattail roots were cooking on the coals, and pine needle tea was boiling. I have always hated pine needle tea, but we had been out of the makin's fer coffee for months.
“Jed, I been a-thinkin’.” I stated as I took a seat on the floor of the cave next to our firewood.
Jed scratched his bushy oily beard, turned to look at me, and simply stated, “Now, Mule, that scares me.”
“No, now listen Jed. Things ain’t goin’ well for us out here lately. I been a-thinkin’ of headin’ back east to visit a spell.”
“Why do you want to visit them pork eaters fer? They just gossip, plant corn, and listen to the orders given by some mean tongued old white woman they call a wife. In sight of a day they would have ya a-wearin’ home spun clothes, boots, and talkin’ like ‘em. Or, one of them preachers will get a hold of ya and turn ya into one of them God fearin’ men.”
“I just thought to go back long enough to let things here cool down a might.”
“I do believe you are incorrect in your evaluation of our current commercial sit-u-ation.”
“Stop the fancy talk Jed. I have decided that I am a-goin’. And that's pretty much how my stick floats.”
“Well, if-un y’all do go, your stick floats alone. I hain’t left nothin’ in the east to go get. I think you been eating that loco weed, or been in our shine.”
“Jed, I am a-goin’. I done did me a powerful amount of thinkin’ on this here subject and made up my mind.”
“Ya talk too much Mule. I do believe now days you is thinkin’ too much as well.” Jed spoke in a low voice, stood and walked out of the cave.
“Y’all can just kiss my rosy backside. You hear me Jed?” I yelled after him. I hated when we were talkin’ and he would just get up and walk off. Down right impolite, I do believe. Every time things didn’t go his way in a talk he would just walk off. ’Ceptin’ around Injuns, they won’t let a man do that. They even consider it rude. Well, to hell with him, I thought as I cut me off a burned piece of deer roast. I don’t need no man.
I waited for hours for Jed to return. Only, he did not return. Right about midnight I became concerned about him. Sure he would walk off at times, but he had never stayed this long. I just knew them Injuns had his hind end. I picked up my rifle, checked the load, and walked from the cave...right into the gates of hell.
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