The Fur Trader

by Sam Ferguson

  William shook his head. “No,” he said.

  “Ah, boards then?”

  “No,” William replied.

  The large mill owner scrunched up his brow, stopped walking toward William, and folded his arms across his chest. He eyed William carefully and then spit off to the side.

  “If you are one of those fancy city folk looking to come up and buy the mill, the answer is no.”

  William smiled and shook his head. “Wouldn’t dream of something like that,” he said honestly. “No, I thought I might be able to procure services from you.” William closed the distance between them and stuck out his hand. “The name is William Stenton.”

  At that, the mill owner’s hard expression melted into a smile and his eyes twinkled warmly.

  “Ah, well any man named William can’t be all bad,” he said as he took the proffered hand and shook it heartily. “Though, I am a bit biased myself, seeing as I am also named William.”

  “Our mothers had good taste in names,” William Stenton replied.

  Mr. Figg nodded. “What kind of services do you need? We can clear land if that’s what you desire.”

  William Stenton shook his head. “I was hoping to rent a barge from you.”

  Mr. Figg’s smile stretched downward into a frown and he shook his head. “I am filling the last order for lumber for this season. I’m loading the last two barges today and sending them down river. I won’t be able to transport anything else until the spring.”

  William Stenton nodded. “What price would make it worth your while? I’m not transporting goods, just myself and my nephew. We’re headed up river, so we could send the barges back in a couple of days.”

  “Up river?” Mr. Figg echoed. His head shook vigorously and he waved a meaty hand at the notion. “Can’t do that for any price. It’s too late in the season. The ice flows have already started further up river. The barges will never make it. As it is, I have to hurry and send out the loads today to avoid having my barges frozen in before they hit the main waterway that heads south. Sorry, friend, but I don’t think I can help you.”

  “Do you have a canoe then?” William asked.

  Mr. Figg shook his head. “If you want a canoe, you can try the general store. Jacop runs a fine shop there, but he’ll tell you the same thing. The rivers further north are freezing up. You won’t make it up river. Not sure why you want to go that way anyhow, there isn’t anything up there but forest and snow.”

  William smiled sheepishly. “Just an adventure for my nephew and myself,” William replied.

  Mr. Figg shrugged and turned back toward the cogs and gears.

  “A few city folk come looking for adventure, though most come in the summer time. You should know, though, the Dryden Range isn’t for fancy folk. You can forget all your rules and laws and civility out here. The mountains will chew you up and spit you out, especially in winter.”

  “Thanks,” William offered as he turned around. It was obvious that Mr. Figg was of no use, so there was no point listening to the man’s lecture about the dangers of Dryden Range.

  When he got back to his horse, Richard was waiting patiently, though with a pained expression on his face and a hand rubbing his stomach.

  “You ate last night,” William groused as he mounted his horse. “You can go a little longer.”

  “Two biscuits does not make a dinner,” Richard replied.

  “Shut it,” William said harshly. He knew Richard was right, though. They would need food soon. He led them back into two and followed the streets until they came to a large, log building with a sign that read, “Sockeye Tavern,” and hitched the horses to a post outside.

  “Keep your head down and your mouth shut,” William said.

  Richard nodded.

  The two of them pushed in through the main door and William pointed to an out of the way table off in a corner close to the bar. They removed their outer cloaks and set them down over the backs of their chairs and sat down. A couple moments later, a stout woman with long, golden hair approached and set a pair of empty mugs on the table.

  “Cider for the boy?” she asked.

  William nodded as he looked up to the woman. “And coffee for me if you have it.”

  The woman nodded. “We also have breakfast if you’re hungry.”

  Richard kept his mouth closed, but his eyes lit up so that it would have been impossible not to notice how excited he was at the mention of food. William nodded his assent and the woman made her way back to the bar. A few minutes later she returned with steaming cider and coffee.

  “Breakfast is coming shortly,” she said just before wiping a couple of drops that had spilled while she was pouring the beverages. She left and came back with two plates, each heaping with golden hash browns, two fried eggs, and a large ham steak.

  “Thank you,” William offered as he dug into his coin purse and fished out a couple of silver pieces.

  The woman nodded and offered a half-bow as she took the coins and left the table. Richard went to work attacking his plate as though it would eat him first if he gave it the chance. William took a more controlled approach, eyeing the room carefully as he cut a bite of ham and took a measured bite.

  A pair of rugged looking men stood next to the fireplace smoking pipes. Their long beards covered their necks, but appeared to be clean, albeit a tad scraggly for William’s liking. They wore clothes that he would have expected of the mountain folk; hefty leather boots with thick, sturdy soles, trousers and shirt made of soft leather, strong bracers around the wrists adorned with small beads and stones, and belts that boasted large knives and a hatchet. They spoke in hushed tones as they puffed their smoke into the air.

  William raised his hand and beckoned for the barmaid. She smiled and came with a pot of coffee in her hand.

  “More coffee, dear?” she asked pleasantly.

  William glanced down to his drink. He hadn’t touched it. He shook his head.

  “Those two men over there, what do you know about them?”

  The woman frowned and turned around for a second, glancing at the men in question.

  “What exactly do you want to know?”

  William put on a disarming smile and pointed to Richard.

  “My nephew and I are on holiday. We are looking for a guide who can take us out into the mountains.”

  The woman’s frown deepened and her brow knitted itself into a tight knot above her nose.

  “It’s the beginning of winter,” she scoffed. “The first snow came weeks ago. No one in their right mind would do something like that.”

  William shrugged. “I know that, but, this isn’t any normal trip, you see,” he began. “This is a special trek for my nephew. We’ve already come this far. It would be a shame to turn back now.” William reached out and placed his hand on the woman’s wrist. “Do you think you might know whether they could be hired on as guides?”

  “Hey!” an old voice shouted out from near the bar.

  William looked from the barmaid toward the voice and saw an elderly gentleman with a liver-spotted head rising from his stool and approaching them on shaky legs.

  “Get your hand off of my Jinny!”

  William slowly removed his hand and set it on the table. He couldn’t help but notice that all of the patrons in the tavern were now staring directly at him. This amount of attention was not what he wanted.

  “Pipe down you old cook,” Jinny said. “I’m not yours, I’m a married woman.”

  “Ah, but your husband isn’t half the man I am!” the old man shouted back as he continued toward them. “I still have enough vigor in my bones for two lifetimes!”

  “Sorry,” Jinny offered. “He’s harmless, really. A bit of a nuisance, but harmless.”

  “That’s alright,” William said.

  “I am Derigan Burtle, and. Jinny is going to marry me after I outlive her husband.” Richard looked up from his food long enough to let out a small chuckle after eyeing the old man. Jinny, on the other hand, sl
apped Derigan’s hand away from her and sidestepped him entirely, leaving him with William and Richard.

  “I will see if they are interested in taking you on your adventure,” Jinny told William as she walked away.

  William would have asked her to wait, for he would prefer to approach the men himself, but Derigan Burtle took a seat and sat right down next to William.

  “An adventurer eh?” he cackled as he stroked his chin with bony fingers. “I used to be an adventurer myself, but then I took an arrow to the knee!” Before William knew what was happening, Derigan Burtle stood up, loosed his belt, and dropped his trousers to his ankle while pointing down at a large, purple scar that covered half of his knobby left knee. Thankfully he was wearing underpants, but his thin, pale legs were a terrible sight to behold.

  “See that? Arrow went clean through. Messed up my leg pretty good.”

  “Mr. Burtle, put your pants back on!” Jinny shouted from across the tavern.

  William was flabbergasted. There was no way he could recover any amount of secrecy now. The entire tavern, including Richard, was doubled over in stitches laughing and pointing at Mr. Burtle.

  Derigan shuffled around and hollered back to Jinny, “Don’t be bashful now, this is what you have to look forward to!”

  “Don’t make me fetch my husband,” Jinny warned.

  Derigan Burtle waved the notion off and slowly pulled his pants back up around his waist. His fingers fumbled with the belt for a few seconds and William did his best to keep his composure. Richard tried to stifle his laughter by taking a sip of his cider, but it was only half working. It took far too long for the old man to shuffle his way out of the tavern, but William was more than happy to see Derigan Burtle exit.

  It was several minutes before the last pocket of laughter died down in the tavern.

  William concentrated on clearing his plate.

  One of the two men near the fireplace came over, a smug grin still plastered across his face as he took the chair Derigan had sat in.

  “Jinny tells me the two of you are wishing to go up into the mountains, is that correct?”

  William nodded. “It is. You have experience?”

  The man nodded. “I’ve gone as far as any of the other trappers. I can take you around, but I wouldn’t advise it at this time of year.” The trapper nodded toward Richard. “The boy will be the first to succumb to the cold. Frostbite isn’t uncommon, and it can be devastating.” The trapper reached up and pulled a leather glove off his left hand. Richard’s eyes went wide at the sight of the trapper’s mangled hand. The index and middle finger were whole, but the ring finger had been severed half way down, and the pinky had been removed entirely. All that remained was a white-colored scar.

  “This happened my first winter in the mountains, and I was better prepared than most city folk when I began.” The trapper then slipped his left foot out of his boot and thunked it onto the table.

  William could barely choke down the bite he was chewing. The foot before him was terribly discolored. Black and brown spots covered the skin. Three of the smaller toes, as well as a portion of the foot, were missing.

  The trapper wiggled his big toe for emphasis. “The mountains ain’t no place for fooling around, especially in the winter time. The cold isn’t even the worst part of it all. If you survive the animals and cold, then you have to worry about Treewalkers.”

  “Treewalkers?” Richard echoed questioningly.

  The trapper nodded his head and pointed to his foot. “This actually happened while I was inside a cabin I built up in the woods. You see, Treewalkers are like highwaymen, or rogue bandits, but they have adapted to the mountain forests. They wait until you are asleep somewhere, and then ambush you. Half the time you never even know they are there until it’s too late. They walk along the branches, hardly ever coming down to the ground. That’s why we call them Treewalkers.”

  “Rubbish,” William scoffed. “No man can walk along the trees.”

  “Treewalkers do,” the trapper said as he narrowed his eyes on William. “They came upon me while I was in my cabin one night. Even my dog didn’t hear them creep up to the cabin. They stoppered up my chimney and tried to smoke me out. Of course, I knew they would be waiting in the trees with their bows, so I wasn’t about to give them an easy target. I put out the fire and waited them out. It took eight days before they finally gave up and left, but by then, my toes had already suffered irreparable damage. I left with my life, but I paid a dear price for it.”

  William found his resolve. He reached over and shoved the trapper’s foot off the table.

  “I am looking for a guide, not a sob story.”

  The trapper’s eyes grew cold and his jaw clicked as he clenched it.

  “I have not come to see mangled limbs, nor naked old men, so if you will excuse me, I will be finishing my breakfast now.”

  The trapper stuck his foot back into his boot and stormed away.

  “He looks mad,” Richard whispered.

  William nodded. “I think I am acquainted with the dangers of our trip well enough.”

  Richard closed his mouth and his eyes dulled with sadness as he looked to his empty plate. The two of them sat quietly for another few minutes before the second man from the fireplace approached. William looked up at the man expectantly.

  “Enin doesn’t take kindly to being shut down like that,” the man said.

  William didn’t miss a beat. “I prefer not to have gnarled feet on my breakfast table.”

  The man smiled and pointed to the chair. “May I sit?”

  William nodded.

  “I’m Orin. I have been in Cherry Brook almost nine years now, which makes me one of the most experienced trappers in these parts. You can ask anyone you like, they’ll all tell you the same thing.”

  “Good to know you aren’t a braggart,” William said as he finished the last bite of food on his plate and washed it down with a bit of coffee. “Have you ever been hired on as a guide before?”

  Orin nodded. “Three times, by city folk like yourself. I am one of only two men to ever work in Geberron Pass, and I can make sure you not only have a good time, but return safely.”

  William eyed Orin carefully. “You work in Geberron Pass?”

  Orin nodded. “I do.”

  “Does that mean you have crossed it then?” William asked.

  Orin blanched and leaned back in his chair. “Well, ain’t nobody ever crossed Geberron Pass. I work the lower half, before Topaz Point. That’s about as far as anyone will ever try to go. If you are looking for adventure, I can take you north into the mountains, but crossing Geberron Pass is out of the question, especially at this time of year. Blizzards and frost trolls will make short work of most anybody out there. Believe me, only one other trapper has ever survived working Geberron Pass.”

  “You don’t mean Enin, do you?” William prodded.

  Orin shook his head and scoffed. “Most certainly not. Enin is a good trapper, but he sticks to the foothills and doesn’t venture into the larger mountains. He’d be a ghost if he even set foot at the base of Geberron Pass.”

  William leaned forward and motioned for Orin to come in closer.

  “Would you be willing to attempt a crossing?”

  Orin started laughing. “You’re joking, right? You want to venture up there?” Orin shook his head and slapped the table. “In all honesty, if you want to go up north, meaning directly north, I can take you and my prices are reasonable. However, if you want me to take you to Geberron Pass, through the most treacherous parts of Dryden Range out to the northwest, well I’m afraid there isn’t enough gold in the world to convince me to do that.”

  “Money is not an object,” William pressed. “I can make this worth your while, I promise.”

  Orin shook his head and rose from the table. “I can’t spend coin in Hammenfein, friend, so the answer is no. I don’t have a death wish. You’ll have to find someone else.”

  The large man walked back to rejoin E
nin near the fireplace. William watched as the two of them glanced his way and Orin whispered something into Enin’s ear. The two of them then burst into laughter. William drew in a steadying breath as he watched Enin look straight at him and draw a finger across his neck before waving goodbye.

  “Let’s go,” William said flatly.

  “Where?” Richard asked.

  “If everyone here is too cowardly to take us, then we’ll go to the general store and get what we need and leave.”

  Richard glanced back to the two trappers who were now pantomiming shivering in the cold and freezing to death.

  “Let’s go,” William said, his words much harsher than before.

  The two of them hurried through town to the general store, asking once for directions after turning down a road that nearly led them out of Cherry Brook. They entered the store and found a man sitting upon a stool behind a counter, reading a well-worn book.

  He looked up as the door rang the bell and greeted them.

  “Welcome folks, what can I do for you?”

  William walked in briskly, determined to conclude his business and leave as soon as possible.

  “We are going into the mountains, and we will need supplies,” he said.

  The man pouted his lower lip and took his silver-rimmed spectacles down to wipe the lenses.

  “How long is your trip?” he asked. The clerk put his glasses back on and eyed William carefully. “I have heavier coats for sale too,” he added.

  William nodded. “Yes, we’ll each take two coats, a fresh pair of boots, gloves, hats, and we’ll need food and a tent as well.”

  “Do you have horses?” the clerk asked.

  William nodded. “We have two.”

  “Well, if you are planning on staying out there, you’ll need blankets for the horses as well. Have you any weapons or tools?”

  William hesitated at that question. He thought of his rapier hidden within a long cylinder hanging on the side of his saddle, and the pair of daggers he had concealed on his person.

  “No, no weapons,” he replied.

  “Well, you’ll need something out there.”

  “Where are you going?” a soft voice called from around an aisle of goods.