To the River's End

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To the River's End Page 24

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone


  “I go where you go,” she stated simply.

  With that, he felt they were of a like mind, so he said, “I reckon by now you’ve already figured out how weak-kneed and speechless I get around you.” She looked totally confused, with no idea what he meant by that, so he finally spat it out. “Willow, will you marry me?” Her response was immediate and just short of violent, for she threw her arms around his neck in an exuberant embrace, causing him to take a step backward to keep from losing his balance. When he regained his stability, with Willow clinging to him as if to never let him go, he asked, “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes, yes!” she gushed. “You never be sorry. I make you happy. I cook your food. I clean your clothes. I butcher your elk. I give you babies!”

  “You better, or he’s gonna whup you with a pine limb,” Jug blurted as he walked up to join them, having overheard her acceptance of Luke’s proposal. “It’s about time you two young’uns got together. I swear, I was beginnin’ to think I was gonna have to ask her for you.” He walked up to them and gave them both a pat on the back while they were still locked in an embrace. “I reckon this means we’re gonna be buildin’ a honeymoon tipi ’cause I don’t want no hanky-panky goin’ on when I’m tryin’ to sleep.”

  “We ain’t gonna worry about that, till after we’re officially married,” Luke declared. He cared too much for Willow to have her climb into his blanket like a rendezvous camp girl. He gently untied her arms from around his neck and held her by her shoulders while he talked to her. “When we get our camp set up, I’ll look for someone to marry us, official-like. Then, if you want to, we can go to one of the Crow camps when they get here and let them marry us, too. I want you to know how much I think of you. And I want everybody to know that you are an honorable woman and not just some Injun woman that jumped into bed with a beaver trapper.” The gleam in her eyes told him that she had not expected such a demonstration of devotion on his part. She felt a tear welling up in her eye when he said, “When I asked you to be my wife, I meant forever.” She and Jug could not know that he was making that commitment largely because of the memories he had of his mother and father and their abandonment of him when he was a child. He had learned from his Aunt Vera that his mother and father were never officially married, and she figured that was one of the reasons she had found it easy to walk out on him. Thinking of all this was the main reason he intended to make his marriage legal. It was important to him that Willow should know that he took this marriage seriously.

  To celebrate this special occasion, Willow made Johnny-cakes with the last of their cornmeal. The last of the dried beans went into the pot with strips of venison after soaking in a jar of water all day. All three of the travelers were hoping to find some of the merchants at the rendezvous site early, so their stores of supplies could be replenished. It was a pleasant evening with no real fear of trouble any longer. They had managed to avoid serious attacks from the Blackfoot hunters, but Luke was superstitious enough to keep watch over their horses and their furs until they had made camp at the rendezvous and their plews were sold. Willow came out to sit with him while he drank the cup of coffee she made for him. Sometime after midnight, Jug came out, carrying the dregs of the coffeepot, and insisted that Luke should go on to bed. He assured him that he would remain awake until breakfast. “I got a little shut-eye,” he assured Luke. “I’ll stay awake till breakfast.” He nodded toward Willow, who was fast asleep, her head resting on Luke’s shoulder. “Better carry her over and put her in her bed or we’re liable not to get no breakfast.”

  As gently as he could, Luke lifted the young woman in his arms. Like a sleeping child, she put her arms around his neck, content to lay her head on his broad shoulder and dream, her mind free from the worries of previous days.

  Chapter 21

  It was a little past noontime when Ike Hopper paused in the filling of his pipe with tobacco to watch what appeared to be a brigade of trappers for one of the fur companies approaching. “They’re startin’ to come in now,” he said aside to Zeke Singleton. A few moments later, he said, “They look like they’re turnin’ those horses on over by the creek, and that ain’t where none of the fur companies are gonna set up their headquarters. I don’t see but three riders. They mighta had some Injun trouble. Reckon we oughta go tell ’em American Fur is settin’ up their post a mile and a half from here, and the other companies are below them?”

  “Hell, it ain’t up to us to tell ’em where to camp,” Zeke replied. “They’ll find out pretty quick that they’re movin’ in with a bunch of free trappers.” Interested in the party now, he walked over beside Ike. “They got a lotta horses. That’s why they’re headin’ to that grassy area by the creek.” He continued to stare at the column of horses and packs for a long time, unsure of what he was seeing, until they were close enough for him to be certain. “Well, I’ll be go to hell,” he mumbled under his breath. “Ike!” He exclaimed then, “That’s Jug Sartain and Luke Ransom!”

  “Nah, it ain’t,” Ike responded, finding that hard to believe. He took a step closer in that direction while straining to make his eyes focus. “Who’s the other feller with ’em?”

  “Danged if I know,” Zeke answered, “looks like an Injun. Let’s go find out.” He didn’t wait for Ike and took off across the valley floor on foot at a trot. Ike didn’t hesitate, hustling off after him.

  About one hundred yards away, Luke saw them and called to Jug, “Looks like we’ve been spotted.” He pointed to the two men running across to intercept them.

  Jug turned to look in the direction Luke pointed. “Hopper and Singleton,” he said. “Can’t think of anybody I druther see.” He was eager to see their response to the load of plews and the extra horses he and Luke came back with.

  They picked a spot to set up their camp and dismounted. By the time Ike and Zeke caught up with them, they were unloading the horses, and Willow was gathering wood to start her cookfire. “Hot damn!” Zeke exclaimed. “Looks like you boys did all right partnerin’ up.” He and Ike were both counting the packs of plews. “You picked up some horses, too.”

  “Howdy, boys,” Jug greeted them. “Glad to see you made it back to another rendezvous with your top-notches still under your hats.” He looked at Luke and winked. “I reckon we had a fair hunt. Coulda come back with a lot more plews, but we said we wasn’t gonna take nothin’ but heavy winter fur. You boys do all right?”

  “Fair to middlin’,” Ike answered. “Looks like you done some other trappin’, too,” he said and nodded toward Willow, who was busy starting her fire.

  Before Luke could reply, Jug quickly introduced her. “Let me acquaint you gentlemen with Mrs. Luke Ransom. At least she will be, just as soon as they can find somebody to tie the knot for ’em. Ain’t that right, Luke?”

  “That’s right,” Luke said at once. “Her name is Willow, and she’s accepted my proposal of marriage.” He turned toward her. “Willow, this is Ike Hopper and Zeke Singleton. They’re friends of mine and Jug’s.” She looked up and smiled at them but continued with her preparation of food.

  With the prospect of selling their pelts foremost in his mind, Jug asked, “Have you boys sold your plews yet?”

  They both answered yes at the same time, and Ike continued. “Sold ’em at your old company,” he said to Luke. “American Fur, they’re payin’ as much as anybody is, but that ain’t but three dollars a pound. And if that ain’t bad enough, they’re sayin’ beaver won’t bring hardly that much next year.” That was disappointing news to Luke and Jug. “I don’t reckon there’s much we can do about it, so I’ll be trappin’ again next year. Maybe they’re wrong about the prices. But if they ain’t, you and Luke musta been thinkin’ about it when you started collectin’ horses. How’d you come by so many horses?”

  “Horses are just like saloon women,” Jug answered. “They’re just naturally attracted to me. We just picked ’em up here and there when we saw we was gonna need more to carry our packs,” he japed.

  “
Blackfoot country?” Zeke asked and nodded toward Willow again.

  “A man would have to be plum loco to go to Blackfoot country to steal horses,” Jug said, “and dumber than that to trap beaver there.”

  “I know what you’re thinkin’,” Luke said then, “but Willow ain’t Blackfoot. She’s Crow. Her people live in the Absarokas. Blackfoot country is where you go to get your scalp lifted, not to look for a wife.”

  “I reckon you’re right about that,” Ike said.

  “You say you sold your plews to American Fur Company?” Luke asked, changing the subject. He turned to Jug then and asked, “Whaddaya think, partner? You wanna go talk to them?” Before Jug answered, Luke asked Ike, “Is Axel Thompson still the buyer at American?” Ike said that he was, so Luke looked at Jug and said, “Axel has always been pretty fair with me and the crew I worked with at American. You wanna talk to him about our plews?”

  “Good as any,” Jug replied. “The quicker we get it done, the better. I’m tired of guardin’ ’em.”

  Back to Ike then, Luke asked, “They in the same place as last year?” When he was told they were, he looked at Jug and suggested, “Let’s eat some of whatever Willow’s cookin’ over there, and then go sell our plews.”

  “That suits me just fine,” Jug said. “How ’bout you boys? You want some smoked elk? I expect that’s about all Willow’s got left to cook.” They both declined, as he expected, but they stayed to talk while Jug and Luke ate. “I’ve et so much elk and deer,” Jug burst out again, “I know what I’ve got a cravin’ for now. Is the Chinaman back yet?”

  “Yep,” Ike replied. “He’s back. He was back before we got back.”

  “Good!” Jug exclaimed. “That’s gonna be one of the first places I spend some of that beaver money.”

  While Jug was smacking his lips at the thought of The Chinaman’s, Zeke leaned close to Luke. “I reckon you’d find out sooner or later,” he said to him, “but maybe I oughta tell you before you go to sell your plews, so you won’t get surprised. Your old friend at American Fur made it back here this year.”

  That captured Luke’s attention at once, knowing he was referring to Dan Bloodworth. “Oh? Is that so? Well, I reckon I’m glad I didn’t kill him, him bein’ a company man and all.”

  “He couldn’t make it with the bunch he usually trapped with, so he missed the whole season, but he’s back this year with the company. I reckon he’s got enough vinegar in his veins to keep him from dyin’.” Zeke shrugged. “Anyway, I thought it best that you knew.”

  “I ’preciate it, Zeke,” Luke said, “but I’ve got no business to attend to with Bloodworth. I told Lonnie Johnson that when I helped him put Bloodworth on the wagon. I don’t know if Bloodworth could hear me or not, but I told Lonnie to tell him that’s the end of it. He’s supposed be a friend of Bloodworth’s, so I hope he told him I ain’t lookin’ for no trouble from him.”

  “I hear what you’re sayin’,’ Zeke said. “But you’d best be careful ’cause we ain’t talkin’ about a man with a helluva lot of common sense. Might be wise to do your fur tradin’ with Rocky Mountain Traders.”

  “Like I said, I ’preciate it, but I know Axel Thompson will treat us right, and I didn’t come here to the rendezvous to hide from Dan Bloodworth or anybody else.”

  “I expect Bloodworth’s learned his lesson by now,” Zeke said. He exchanged a knowing glance with Ike, both men having the same thought. Bullies like Dan Bloodworth never learned their lessons. And the previous trouble with Luke would never be considered over to Bloodworth—not after having missed a year’s work trapping because of Luke’s skill with a knife. Seeing Luke and Jug return after an enormously successful season for themselves would only drive the nail of resentment deeper into Bloodworth’s heart. Having witnessed the brief, but deadly encounter between Bloodworth and Luke, Zeke felt certain the only lesson Bloodworth had learned was a shot in the back was his best chance to avenge himself.

  “Me and Ike was fixin’ to go to Red’s Place for a drink of likker when we saw you pull in,” Zeke declared. “When you get done sellin’ your pelts, come on by and we’ll help you celebrate.”

  “Sounds like a good idea to me,” Jug responded. “Whaddaya say, partner?” Luke nodded his approval. “It’s liable to take us a little time, though,” Jug couldn’t resist pointing out, since there were a lot of plews to weigh.

  After Zeke and Ike left, Luke and Jug prepared to lead their packhorses down Horse Creek to the buyer’s tents. Willow had watched silently while Luke ate the meat she had cooked, and finally spoke when he came to tell her he and Jug would be gone for a while. “You don’t have to be afraid here at rendezvous,” he assured her. “There won’t be any Blackfoot war parties coming in here. So I’m sure you’ll be safe till I get back. With our campfire burnin’ and our horses grazing, everybody’ll know there’s somebody usin’ this campsite.” He looked into her eyes to try to determine her true feelings. When he wasn’t sure, he said, “Or you can go with us, if you’re not sure about waitin’ here till I get back.”

  “No,” she said. “I wait here.” He smiled at her, then bent forward and kissed her forehead. She took his hands in hers and gazed up at him. “I hear the talk with your friends,” she started. “You never talk me about that man, Bloodhound. Why Bloodhound after you?”

  “Bloodworth,” he corrected her. “He’s nothin’ for you to worry your pretty little head about.” He attempted to put her at ease, but she continued.

  “Those men said you need to be careful,” she insisted. “They say he not forget what you did to him.”

  “We ain’t even married yet and you’re already frettin’ over some loose talk,” he said with a chuckle. “Dan Bloodworth ain’t nothin’ for you to worry your pretty little head about,” he repeated. “Me and Jug will go sell our plews, and then you and I are gonna find us a preacher to marry us. I know there’ll be one here somewhere. Last year, a preacher came to the river and held a Sunday service every week. He was still here when we left last fall. Wasn’t he, Jug?”

  “That’s a fact,” Jug said. “I saw him when we left Red’s that mornin’.” He was comin’ down off a four-day drunk on a cot Red let him use behind the bar, Jug thought but didn’t share.

  “Is that right?” Luke asked. “You never said anything about it to me.”

  Jug shrugged his shoulders in response. “You never said you was thinkin’ about gettin’ married.”

  “Maybe he’s back here this summer,” Luke said to Willow. “We’re gonna find out pretty quick ’cause I’ve gotta get you hitched up before you change your mind.”

  She blushed when she said, “I not change my mind.” She had hesitated to suggest something to Luke that he apparently had no knowledge of. She decided she would tell him now, since he had so much concern about being honorable about his commitment to her. “In Absaroka village, when man marry woman, he move in her family tipi, they married. I have no tipi, but you move in here.” She placed her hand over her heart. “We already married, just not white man married.”

  Her simple declaration left Luke speechless for a moment, but Jug responded right away. “Well, I’ll be . . . That is right. I shoulda thoughta that.” He enjoyed a hearty chuckle over it.

  Then Luke grinned and shrugged. “It makes no difference. We’re still gonna find a preacher to marry us by white man’s law, so nobody can say you ain’t legally married.”

  * * *

  “Howdy, Luke,” Axel Thompson called out in cheerful greeting when they walked in the front tent next to the American Fur Company’s trading post. “I see you and your partner made it back again.” He hesitated, obviously trying to recall Jug’s name.

  “Howdy, Axel,” Luke quickly replied. “You remember Jug, I reckon.”

  “’Course, I do,” Axel replied then. “Jug Sartain, last year was the first year you traded with us. I’m glad to see you fellows back here this summer. Did you have a pretty good year? Some of our men with the company didn’t have t
he year they were expecting.”

  “That’s why we came to you,” Jug claimed. “We was afraid you might notta got the prime furs you were lookin’ for. And me and Luke have got the best lookin’ winter plews you’ll be lookin’ at this year.”

  “Is that a fact?” Axel replied. “Well, seein’s believin’. We’ll take a look at ’em.”

  “They’re out back of the tent,” Luke said, “but there’s one thing that’s kinda worrisome to me. We were talkin’ to some of the other free trappers. And they said you weren’t payin’ but three dollars this year. I surely hope that ain’t what you’re payin’ for top quality, prime beaver like you’re gonna see in our packs.”

  “Luke, you know I ain’t gonna lie to ya,” Axel replied. “What those fellows told you is true. The whole beaver market is down, and it’s gonna keep goin’ down.” When Luke questioned the cause of the poor market, Axel said, “Silk, they’re makin’ hats outta silk over there in Europe where they used to make ’em outta beaver fur.”

  “How can that hold up?” Jug asked. “No hat made outta silk can last as long as one made outta prime beaver fur.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Axel allowed. “I don’t know about that, but I have to tell you, ain’t nobody payin’ more than three dollars a pound. And that’s the God’s honest truth.” He paused and shook his head when he saw the disappointment in their faces. He had a fair idea how they had probably risked their lives day after day in the cold rocky streams of the mountains, counting on the payoff for their efforts. “Look here, let’s go look at your pelts. If they’re as prime as you claim, I might be able to go three-ten, or maybe three-fifteen, but they’d have to be mighty damn good.”

 

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