by Terry Grosz
“It is true what she says. We did find your son and treated his wounds. After he healed we did not know what to do with him, so we took him in as one of our own to care for,” replied Jacob, not removing his eyes from the chief’s hard stare.
Walks-in-the-Sun walked over to the chief, reached up, and clasped his father’s forearm in happiness and respect. Tears came quickly to the chief’s eyes and left just as rapidly before anyone else noticed.
“I am glad you are back, my son. It has been many dark days since you were wounded and left for dead. Now you are back, standing in honor, and have brought three friends. If they are your friends, then they are mine as well,” said the chief, with a smile now cracking through his sun-weathered face.
Turning, the chief raised his right arm and said to his group of warriors, “The white men and the one who is dark as the night without any moon are friends and forever to be treated as such.”
The warriors remained stoic in their looks, but Jacob could tell the chief’s words had been heard. With a wave of his arm, the chief hailed the warriors still holding the trappers’ livestock hostage, and they rode closer to join the group around the chief. Once again, for the benefit of those men, the chief repeated the story of his son’s return and his words of friendship for the trappers.
Turning, Jacob said, “Cain, we are to be treated as friends. Walks-in-the-Sun is the chief’s son, and he has just saved our lives.”
Cain got a huge grin on his face and only then relaxed his tight hold on his Hawken, as did the others.
The chief dismounted and without saying a word walked over to Jacob. He clasped Jacob’s forearm in a sign of friendship and then did the same to Martin. Walking over to Cain, he grabbed his hand and turned his arm slightly to more closely examine the color of the man’s dark skin. Satisfied it was the real thing and not just war paint, he also firmly grasped Cain’s massive arm and, stepping back, clearly marveled at the other man’s huge size.
Turning to his warriors and the rest of the tribe, the chief said they would all camp next to the spring for the evening and honor the gods with a feast for bringing his son back from the dead.
Turning to the warriors at his side, the chief said, “Go and kill some buffalo, for we are going to feast tonight in honor of these three men who saved my son.”
Jacob, sensing an opportunity, raised his hand for attention, then said to the chief, “May we go as well to help kill some buffalo? We have rifles that shoot very far and can kill buffalo before your warriors can with their bows and arrows.”
“If the white men and their black friend who saved my son wish to come, then we would be honored,” said the chief with a lot more lightness in his voice than when he had first arrived.
That evening, as the Indian camp prepared a feast with the ten buffalo killed by Jacob, Martin, and Cain with their long-shooting rifles, the three men gathered some gifts from their trading stock. These gifts were to be presented to the Indian chief and several subchiefs for allowing the three of them to live in the cottonwood grove for the rest of the summer and winter and for letting them trap beaver in the Big Sandy.
Loaded down with the gifts, the three men rode into the Lakota encampment. Stopping at the chief’s tepee, they dismounted and were instantly swarmed by dozens of children wanting to touch the saviors of the chief’s son and closely examine the hugeness of the black man called Cain. Soon they were joined by the chief, whom they now knew as Many-Horses-Walking; his wife, Singing Wind; their daughter, Falling Star, and Walks-in-the-Sun. Inside the chief’s tepee. It was then that the trappers presented their gifts. To the surprise of Jacob and Martin, Cain had a Green River skinning knife, which he presented to Falling Star, Walks-in-the-Sun’s sister.
Later that evening Jacob had to tell and retell the story of how he had found Walks-in-the-Sun, and Cain had to explain how he had saved the young man with his knowledge of treating wounds. The party went long into the morning as everyone ate until they were stuffed and then ate some more. During the feast Jacob and Martin had Singing Wind and Falling Star at their beck and call. It seemed as if the two women couldn’t show enough appreciation for Jacob and Martin’s care of their son and brother. Cain was another matter. Everything he even seemed to want was given to him instantly. It was apparent to Jacob and Martin that the Indians considered Cain something very special. His close friendship with Walks-in-the Sun also seemed to make a huge difference in how he was treated, and Falling Star seemed to take to Cain especially. There were many looks between the two of them at almost every opportunity.
After leaving the feast, the three men could hardly wiggle because they were so full as they nestled down in their sleeping furs. They had to get some sleep because the next day they had to put up the main beams, log subroofing, sagebrush, and dirt on their cabin’s roof. That was a chore that would take a lot of hard work.
Rising early the next morning, Jacob tended to breakfast, Martin to the horses and mules, and Cain to the gathering of firewood and water. After breakfast they began work on their roof and made rapid progress well into the afternoon. Just as they finished, a group of Lakota arrived, led by Many-Horses-Walking, who invited the three tired men on another buffalo hunt.
Thirteen buffalo later, the women and small boys came from the Indian camp by the spring, and the serious butchering and hauling back of the meat began.
At that night’s feast the men were requested to tell their stories time and time again of how they had saved the chief’s son—especially the part where Jacob had fallen into the Platte River. There was much laughter and celebration, and once again Jacob and Martin marveled at the treatment Cain received at the hands of the Indians in general and Falling Star in particular.
The next day found the three men hard at work once again around their cabin. Jacob, like his father, had a knack for building things. He made and hung the front door, cut shooting ports into the cabin walls, built sleeping platforms for the three of them, and finished making the table and chairs. Then he began work on their stone fireplace. Martin and Cain dug post holes and built a stout corral for their herd of mules and horses. By the end of the day, they were dead tired and famished. Having only jerky on hand made them rather grouchy at having to eat that meager kind of fare until they saw Falling Star and Singing Wind approaching their cabin leading a pack horse. They walked out to meet them and were warmly greeted. Then the women set to work around the cooking fire. Soon the delicious smell of roasting buffalo meat, com cakes, and a stew-like dish filled the air. The men sat around on the new chairs Jacob had built for them in front of their new home, smoked their pipes, and waited for the evening meal to come. Soon the food was ready, and as the men filled their plates, they noticed that Falling Star filled Cain’s plate—and with the choicest of morsels! Again the men were favored with outstanding treatment as thanks for their rescue and care of Walks-in-the-Sun. Later that evening they gave some tobacco to Singing Wind to take back to the chief in thanks for the meal, and Cain escorted the women back to their camp.
Over the next two weeks the three men dragged in mounds of winter wood, finished the stone fireplace, and cut hay by hand and spread it to cure for winter. They also killed buffalo, made meat, and visited with their Lakota friends. That meant attending several more feasts and performing shooting, races, and other feats of strength and skill.
One morning Many-Horses-Walking rode over to the busy trappers’ camp and informed them that his band of Lakota was moving on to greener pastures to the north. Their herd of over three hundred horses had eaten all the feed for some distance around their camp. He asked if the trappers wished to come with the band, saying they would be welcome additions to his tribe as the friends they were.
Jacob thanked the chief for his offer and the friendship they had shared over the past weeks but answered, “We will remain here because the beaver trapping and buffalo hunting is good. Plus, we have fewer livestock, and we can survive on the remaining grasses along the river and in the mead
ow at hand.”
“I understand,” said the chief. “Your new home is here, and the hunting is good. Just remember, you will always be friends and are welcome to stay here as long as you wish without fear from my people. We will be leaving at first light, so I say thank you for returning my son from the land of the Cloud People, and may the sun always smile on your trails.” With that and a wave of his arm, he rode back to his camp.
That evening around their dinner fire, the talk among the trappers was subdued. Cain hardly said a word the whole time. Sitting outside in front of the cabin in the cool of the evening after dinner, the three men sat and smoked their pipes in silence.
That silence was finally broken as Cain tapped the ash from his pipe, rose, and turned to face Jacob and Martin. “I would like to go with Many-Horses-Walking and his people tomorrow when they leave for the north,” he said!
Jacob and Martin sat there, stunned.
“But we just got our cabin built and are almost ready for fall and winter trapping,” Jacob responded, still surprised and not knowing what else to say.
“I know, but I feel my life will be best spent with the Lakota. Their lifestyle is like mine. They harbor no ill will against anyone different from their own kind, unlike many of the whites, and I just feel I would be happier with them. Nothing against the two of you. You have been like brothers to me and saved my life. But I feel that when you move on to other places with more white people, the hurt will return because of the way people with small minds act toward someone my color. No, I feel that in the long run I would be happier living among my new Lakota friends. I have made up my mind. I will take what supplies you can share and go with the Lakota when they leave tomorrow. Plus as you may have noticed, 1 have taken a shine to Falling Star, and she to me. Hopefully her father will let me marry that woman, and we will have lots of children. And if any are boys, 1 will name them Jacob and Martin after my brothers.”
Jacob and Martin still could find no words. Finally Martin got his voice and asked, “Are you sure? The three of us can have a very good life once we move west with the gold. You are right; we are like brothers, and to separate now will be a huge loss.”
“Yes, I am sure. I have been thinking about this ever since I met Falling Star. She is the one for me, and with that in mind, I wish to be the one for her,” Cain quietly replied.
“Then it’s done,” Jacob said with a forced smile, rising from his wooden bench.
“Go forth, my brother, and know we support you and will always have a place for you and yours in our homes once we get to California,” said Martin with as happy a tone as he could muster under the circumstances.
There was much back-slapping and well-wishing all around. “What about your share of the gold?” asked Martin.
“Where I am going I have no need of such things,” said Cain. “The two of you keep my share. Maybe someday I will come to California and take the two of you up on your offer of golden wealth.”
“Damn,” said Jacob, “we have got to get going if you are leaving at first light. We need to get you outfitted for your new life.”
For the next two hours the men busied themselves collecting Cain’s supplies for his new life on the plains with the Lakota. Kegs of powder, pigs of lead, skinning knives, sharpening stones, beaver traps, an extra rifle, rifle parts, bullet molds, spices, and horse tack were all added to the growing pile of necessities. Then the men went to the corrals and separated two pack horses and two riding horses. Cain’s hell-for-stout riding mule, Dander, was left behind because the men figured a mule would only slow down the Lakota as they traveled or hunted; hence the switch to horses.
Having completed those chores, the men sat outside their cabin, lit up their pipes once again, and, with a hefty cup of whiskey each, sat in the dark amid the constant hum of the ever-present mosquitoes and quietly contemplated their futures. Before light Jacob was up and cooking breakfast, and Martin and Cain were saddling the horses and loading the pack animals. They could hear the stirring from the Indian camp some distance away.
After breakfast the men sat outside in the cool morning and, without much talk, waited for the inevitable. Soon the smell of prairie dust wafted their way as the Indian camp was pulled and the band started on the trek to the north. Passing in front of the trappers’ cabin with the rest of the band, Walks-in-the-Sun broke out of the pack and rode over to his friends. Dismounting in one fluid motion born from many years in the saddle, he walked over to Jacob and Martin without even a trace of a limp. He gave each man a hug, then turned and remounted without any words being spoken to Jacob and Martin.
“It is time, my brother,” Walks-in-the-Sun said to Cain.
Cain rose and gave a bear hug each to Jacob and Martin. Then, without a further word, he mounted his horse and, with a wave of his massive arm, rode with his pack string in tow into the band of Indians still streaming by. Soon the caravan had passed, leaving only the dust hanging in the air and the fading sounds of talking, laughter, and barking dogs. Slowly those sounds and smells died away as the rays of the fall sun began to heat up the morning air.
“We still have a passel of work that needs doing, and best we get to it,” said Jacob, still sorrowing over their loss of a brother.
“I wonder if our trails will ever cross again?” said Martin to himself and the prairie winds.
The rest of the day was spent building another lean-to to protect the small mountain of curing hay for their horses and mules. The ache of their loss was not far from each man’s breast. In fact, several times during the day the brothers found themselves looking to the north as if expecting Cain to reappear on the horizon, coming back their way.
Chapter Sixteen
Fort Bridger and the Start of a New Life
For the rest of the fall of 1856 and into the spring of 1857, the men hunted buffalo for their skins and trapped beaver and river otter for their pelts in the backwaters of the Big Sandy. Buffalo hunting was good, and soon they had so many hides that it was about all their horses and mules could carry or pull on travois along with all their other gear. Added to that were four bales of prime beaver and otter pelts from the Big Sandy and several marshy areas near their cabin. It was obvious that for the most part the beaver would be trapped out by the end of spring, and they would have to move on if they were to survive in the fur and hide business.
One late-spring afternoon, after they had fleshed out and hooped their recent catch of beaver, Martin sat back in his chair and looked over at his approaching brother. “Say, brother, this ain’t getting me any closer to that big saltwater pond out west in California I always wanted to see.”
Jacob, rounding the side of the cabin with another armload of wood for their evening fire, said with a grin, “Then I suppose we best do something about that itch of yours that needs scratching.” Laying his armload of wood next to the fire, he turned and said, “What say we head for Fort Bridger just as soon as the horse feed greens up? Once there, we can sell our hides and furs, then hitch a ride west with one of them wagon trains going to California.”
Martin looked up from sharpening his fleshing knife on a whetstone and grinned, saying, “That sounds okay with me ’cause neither of us ain’t gettin’ any younger by the day, you know.”
Jacob grinned. His brother had always had the wanderlust in the family, and it was time to satisfy that curiosity. He was right in that they were not getting any younger, and the fur trade, except in buffalo skins, was sliding downhill. In addition, some of the Indians in the area were getting downright nasty and killing the white men flooding onto their hunting grounds. Yes, Jacob thought, Martin might just have something in this going-west thing of his.
“Besides,” continued Martin, “maybe we need to go to California to the gold rush and make our fortune like all those other people we heard about last time we was at Fort Vasquez.”
Jacob grinned at his brother’s humor about the gold, since the two of them were already sitting on a fortune of the precious metal. That p
lus the Spanish ingots they still had from their parents all but assured they would never have to work again once they got to civilization.
The next morning the brothers had decided for sure it was time to move on. Rounding a turn on the north side of the Big Sandy, they happened on three wagons that had probably been part of a larger wagon train. They had apparently left the protection of that larger group and wandered south looking for a piece of land on which to settle. The still smoking remains of their wagons bore mute testimony to the poor wisdom of that decision. Riding among the smoking ruins, the brothers saw nothing but death and destruction. Everyone had been killed, the wagons looted and burned, and the livestock run off. The arrow shafts left behind showed that it had been Lakota who had discovered the small group of wagons and decided to settle the score in part for the wholesale invasion of their lands by whites in ever growing numbers.
After dinner that evening, with the memory of having buried all the bodies in a mass grave, the brothers sat quietly smoking as they watched their way of life in their corner of their world slowly dying out.
“The grass is almost high enough in places to travel, feedwise, so I say we pull our traps tomorrow and head for Fort Bridger,” Jacob said slowly.
Martin said, “I’ll have the animals saddled and loaded at dawn if you care to clean out the cabin and fix us a breakfast that will hold us until dark. I think it only wise to get the hell out of here in case someone has changed their minds about us being protected by the word of Many-Horses-Walking, especially if another chief is now in charge.”
“I hope Cain is still all right,” Jacob replied thoughtfully as he aimlessly pushed some unburned sticks back into the fire with the toe of his moccasin.
By daylight the brothers had packed up and set a course for Fort Bridger, but not before each man had chiseled his name into the main beam to let the next visitors know that this was the cabin of Jacob and Martin. Neither man looked back as they rode over the many small, rolling ridges leading away from their cabin as they headed southwest across the Green and Muddy Rivers toward the home of their old friend, Jim Bridger.
