In the Shadow of the Mountain
© Copyright 2005, W. R. Benton
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CHAPTER 1
This Excerpt may contain rough language, typical for the period.
“Heck 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 hit. 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, so we just stayed together. Darn 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 was 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 did 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 was a dead man.