by Terry Grosz
Iron Hand just smiled over the words spoken by the young warrior and then said, “Spotted Eagle, I love little Sinopa but just like a much-loved little sister. I want her to find and marry a great warrior of her own choosing and from her own people, for the happiness that will bring to her. I gave her those fine horses as a sign of my respect for the great heart and bravery she showed, after the evil white trappers had taken her from her people against her will. True, I saved her from those evil men but only for her to find the love of her life and live many moons with the mighty warrior of her own choosing.”
With those words, Iron Hand saw a look spread across Spotted Eagle’s face as if a great weight had been lifted from his very heart and soul. With that, he jumped up and said, “Iron Hand, like my uncle has said, you are a great warrior! I want you to know that I will love Sinopa as no other man ever will and will care for her like she is your much-loved little sister. I will always remember your words and like my uncle, will be a ‘Brother’ to you for as long as The Great Spirit allows me to be!” With that, he vigorously shook Iron Hand’s hand up and down like a pump handle on a well, then quickly vaulted onto the back of his almost now spooked horse and stormed out across the prairie back towards what had to be his tribal winter encampment, like an evil spirit was on his tail...
Iron Hand, with a shake of his head and a smile over the happy events that had just occurred, picked up Spotted Eagle’s spilled coffee cup and cleaned it off. Then he became aware that his friends were all standing at the mouth of the cave and had quietly overheard everything that had been said. Almost embarrassed over the recent turn of events, Iron Hand asked, “Any of you ‘boneheads’ up for some damn fine coffee this morning as only I can make it?”
For the following deep cold winter months, the trappers ran their trap lines for the ever elusive wolf, hunted buffalo for meat, made jerky for the trail soon to be traveled back to Fort Union, repaired their equipment, and tended to their horses. Come the spring, it was back to trapping beaver once the ice went out and until the critters went out of prime. Then it was back to hunting buffalo for the meat and making jerky for the long early summer trip back to Fort Union to sell their furs and re-provision their supplies for their third year as Free Trappers on the western frontier. However, a decision had been made by the men not to return to the Medicine Lake area to trap beaver for a third season. They had trapped the area so intensively, that few beaver remained and it would not pay to continue trapping in that area any longer.
No final decision had been made as to which area to trap in the coming season but Old Potts was ‘itching’ to see what kind of trapping country lay to the west of the Big Muddy and in the end, the rest of his crew were so inclined to think ‘westward’ as well. However, there was a problem in moving their trapping endeavors further to the west. Therein to the west lay the hunting grounds of the dreaded Gros Ventre Indians, a tribe not known for its love of the American fur trappers. They, however, did get along with the Hudson Bay folks because that company freely supplied the Gros Ventre with rifles, whiskey, powder and pigs of lead for making bullets, in exchange for their trade in furs, hides and robes...
Whereas, years earlier at Fort Raymond with St. Louis businessman Vasquez, he had refused to supply rifles, powder and lead to many of the Blackfoot and Gros Ventre bands of Indians. All the other Indians like the Sioux that traded at Fort Raymond were able to purchase firearms but not members from those two other tribes. As it turned out, Vasquez did not trust many of the Blackfeet or Gros Ventre because of their historical killing ways. However, when he traded and supplied all the other local Indian tribes with weapons and not the Blackfeet or Gros Ventre, that gave them the edge, and the tribal balances of power shifted to the Sioux, Crow and the like tribes because they now had the most advanced weaponry such as firearms. Hence, after that treatment, many of the bands of Blackfeet and most of the Gros Ventre considered the white man the enemy and treated them accordingly.
However, Old Potts had heard from other Free Trappers that if one could ‘keep his hair’ and steer clear of the Gros Ventre, the beaver trapping to the west of the Big Muddy on the Poplar River was unbelievable! He had heard tell of numerous trappers who had sent their fur down the Missouri to St. Louis, telling tales of numerous ‘blanket-sized plus’ coming from beaver, some of which weighed at least 100 pounds, live weight! They also told tales of catches many times that accounted for a beaver for every trap that was set! As it turned out, the more Old Potts told of the beaver waters to the west, the more excited the men became to giving such magically sounding waters a try. So much so, that come the time to head for Fort Union and take care of business that summer, the four trappers were figuring pretty hard, that ‘moving west was their next course of empire’...
With the arrival of the last of the month of April, when the heaviest spring snows had finally stopped sweeping the northern prairies, found Old Potts and his fellow trappers en route to Fort Union. The men traversed their old familiar trail of moving westerly along the Medicine Lake outflow, then south along the eastern side of the Big Muddy until they reached the mighty Missouri. Then they traveled easterly along the northern bank of the Missouri until they reached their destination of Fort Union.
Along the way toward Fort Union, the men met other groups of trappers heading in the same direction. In so doing, they bunched up for the mutual protection such groups of mountain men offered, and finally and safely ventured onto the grounds of Fort Union.
Once on site, their camp was set up along the Missouri River bottoms, and soon the men were inside the fort’s walls deep into watching the Clerks counting and grading their furs, hides and robes. While there, Old Potts met up with some other Free Trappers from his days with Vasquez, who were selling their furs as well and gleaned additional information regarding the beaver trapping grounds to the west of the Big Muddy. That information gleaned from some of Old Potts’s fur trapping buddies relative to the ‘trappings’ west of the Big Muddy on the Poplar River, did nothing but encourage his desire to see more of the west... But he also discovered that about a quarter of the company’s fur trappers and Free Trappers, on an annual basis, who were trapping in that area, always seemed to disappear just about the time they were heading to Fort Union to trade in their furs and robes. The word among the surviving trappers familiar with that Gros Ventre-‘infested’ area was that those who disappeared, many times did so at the hands of the savage Indians hellbent on robbing the trappers of their hard-won gains and taking their scalps. Those few surviving trappers suspicioned that those stolen furs taken from other less fortunate trappers, would then be traded to the much-hated Hudson Bay Company, who did not question the Indians as to where those furs had come from. In fact, the word from friendly Indians was that the Hudson Bay Company encouraged theft of furs from any American Fur Company Trappers, because they figured it would reduce the competition for the rapidly disappearing in many places from being over harvested, valuable fur species...
When Old Potts later gathered together with Crooked Hand, Big Foot and Iron Hand over the information he had recently gleaned from those mountain men who had trapped in the heart of the Gros Ventre Indian Country and had survived, they listened in silence as if weighing their odds of trapping success along with survival. Then Big Foot and Crooked Hand more or less advised Old Potts that they could not live forever, and that it sure would be nice to see and trap some new country, regardless of who ‘owned’ the real estate! Then Iron Hand, who had remained silent while he weighed Old Potts’s information said, “Well, when in Indian country trapping beaver and hunting buffalo, one has to take his chances. As for the Hudson Bay people, well, we have a surefire remedy on how to take care of those so affiliated who wish to treat us wrongly... So count me in, if for no other reason then to be there and be the one to patch up Crooked Hand’s bad leg when he busts it up again and he will, or to help Big Foot in his ‘doctoring’. Besides, I now make the best coffee and biscuits among the four of us and as s
uch, I sure as hell would not like to see the three of you go hungry or without your morning coffee! Because if you do, I figures all of you and a mean-assed grizzly bear end up being a lot alike...”
“Then it is agreed,” said Old Potts with a grin of anticipation settling across his whiskered old face. “However, since where we want to go is a far piece away from our trading post, I say we pick up three extra riding and pack animals in case some of what we have are stolen by the Indians or we cripple them up as a matter of course. I would also say we load heavy on our weapons cache as well. I think we need to maybe pick up an extra rifle and pistol apiece, just in case. That way, we can lay a mess of extra ‘smoke-poles’ on our first trailing animal in our pack strings like we did when we brought that huge pack string into Fort Union the first time. Then if we are outnumbered and attacked, we would have a number of extra shots to stand off any attackers. In so doing, since they would be figuring on us to only have one shot apiece, we could fool the hell out of them and kill that many more when they closed in for the kill. Remember, in any kind of battle, Indians don’t like losing any of their menfolk. That also means we best load up on powder, caps and lead for our ‘lead-eating’ Hawkens if we are going further west into hostile Indian country. In fact, Iron Hand, that will be your responsibility to see that we have enough firepower to hold off an army of them damn killing Gros Ventre if the good Lord causes that to happen when we are out on the trail. No two ways about it, the best medicine against a mess of them damn savages is best served with a dose of hot lead in the right places of their carcasses...”
“Big Foot, with your background as a blacksmith, I would suggest that you see to it that we have all the things ‘iron’ we might need once we get way out there where we are a-going. That means extra horseshoes, horseshoe nails, files, fire making equipment, some extra traps in case some of ours are lost or stolen, a mold block or two for our rifles and pistols in case we lose one, some extra cast-iron cookware and several new axes because our old ones are getting a bit worn and hickory-handle thin. Make sure the axes you buy are the best quality, because where we will be a-going, we will not have a cave to crawl into like back at Medicine Lake. We will be a-building a cabin or lean-to of sorts to keep the weather off us, and that means we will be cutting a mess of logs in order to build a cabin to accommodate all of us, our furs and provisions. So be sure our axes are good ones, and maybe a saw or two and a couple of files would be a wise purchase as well,” continued Old Potts.
“Crooked Hand, you are our horse expert. How about you pick up three more riding and packhorses from the fort’s horse herd. Make sure one of them new riding horses is big enough to pack Iron Hand because he tends to gets grouchy if he has to walk all the time on those damn big feet of his. When you make your selections, make sure all of them are ‘shoed’ up proper like as well. With those extra pack animals, maybe we can load them down with those giant-sized beaver all my old buddies are talking about, eh? Also, make sure we have extra leather for repairing our riding saddles, pack saddles and the like,” said Old Potts.
Continuing, he said, “The four of us have plenty of money from this year’s trappings but if you need more, hit up McKenzie and take some of the money the American Fur Company is holding for us from last year’s trappings and use that to settle us up on the company’s ledgers. Hell, where we are a-going, we probably will not live long enough to use up all that money from last year no-how’s.
“Me, I will see to our rum supply and double it first off in case Crooked Hand needs more leg treatment for infections, a goodly number of beeswax candles cause they are the best for holding the flame, a whole lot more salt than we had last time, more black pepper, another bag of hot pepper flakes for our venison stews, dried fruit and even more flour than we had last time ’cause I like them biscuits that Iron Hand makes. I will also see to it that we have more sacks of beans, rice, coffee, sugar, tobacco, and some more of them bottles of castoreum, since we seem to be always breaking them afore the trapping season ends. I will also see that all of our old Hudson Bay heavy blankets are replaced as well as all of our capotes.” With those instructions off his chest, Old Potts seemed to run down on what he had to say to the men. Then as an afterthought he said, “Can any of you think of what we might ought to get in addition to what I have suggested?”
“We could use a new coffee pot ’cause the old one is getting to look a little ragged and it is just a matter of time before it is ‘holed’ on the bottom from all the open fire it sits over. I would also suggest get me a third six-quart Dutch oven for biscuit and pie makings. I would hate to break my old ones but if I do, we will need a replacement. I would also suggest we get some more leather for making bridles and the like as a reminder. Buffalo hide just does not do it up right and proper like it needs to be for a number of our needs,” said Iron Hand.
With those words, the men fell silent and then Old Potts said, “Well, each of you has his marching orders. I would suggest we get to it because for the distance we need to travel to get where we are a-going never having been there afore and then have to build a cabin to live in and store our furs and provisions, we will need to leave the fort earlier this summer. Asides, we need to make sure we get what we need from the fort’s stores afore they run out and then we end up having to make do without,” said Old Potts.
For the next two days, the four men went about their ways fulfilling the orders Old Potts had suggested, or they figured they would need on such a long and dangerous journey they were planning. Finally, the men had acquired about what they figured they would need for the adventure lying ahead for each of them. For the next two days, the men visited with other fellow trappers and old friends who had survived, the members of the fort, their friend McKenzie, and made the rounds among the many visiting Indian camps, looking for much-decorated buckskin shirts, beaded moccasins, beaded knife sheaths, and fringed shirts that many of the Free Trapper breed favored when it came to showing off their status as one of the free and some of the wealthiest trappers on the frontier.
Finally, they spent their last night in the shadow of the fort, safe from all the many ways of finding death out on the frontier. Iron Hand prepared their final supper under the protection of the fort’s walls and found himself liking being able to cook without looking over his shoulder every time he made any kind of a ‘cooking move’ around his campfire. Supper that evening was staked buffalo steaks, his favorite brand of sugared biscuits, fried spuds with onions supplied by the fort’s huge garden, and an apple pie hot from one of his Dutch ovens. Then the men lounged around their campfire smoking their pipes and drinking more than several cups of rum, as they discussed what was lying before them on their journey out from the safety of the fort and into the unknown for the coming trapping season. Then it was under their sleeping furs and the hordes of mosquitoes supplied by the Missouri River bottomlands…
CHAPTER EIGHT: NEW TRAPPING GROUNDS, DEADLY GROS VENTRE SURPRISES
Having sold off their furs, hides and robes and re-provisioned with the goods needed for yet another year on the frontier, Old Potts and crew prepared to leave Fort Union en route to their new and yet to be discovered trapping grounds further west in the potentially deadly ancestral country of the Gros Ventre. Breakfasting with McKenzie on their last day in the fort, the men feasted on roasted buffalo hump ribs, freshly fried potatoes mixed with onions from the fort’s garden, sourdough biscuits with homemade wild plum jam, and all the coffee loaded with sugar that they could tolerate. Or as Old Potts called their favorite ‘brand’ of trapper’s coffee, loaded with mounds of sugar like that being served at McKenzie’s breakfast table, as “syrup”.
Then lining up their stock strings of 16 animals plus those ridden by each man, out the front gate of Fort Union they streamed heading for a land of unknowns like the ‘lordly’ Free Trappers without a care that they represented. However, as per Old Potts’s instructions, the first animal in each man’s pack string, now in addition to its packs of provisions, was hoo
ked an extra, fully loaded rifle and two additional pistols fastened onto the pack saddle for quick and easy retrieval.
That way, with what each man was personally carrying in the way of firepower and what was hooked onto their first animals in the pack string, each man was capable of being able to fire six shots before they ‘ran dry’ if they were given the opportunity! Additionally, each of the men’s personally carried pistols were loaded with deadly buck and ball for close in fighting if things went ‘downhill’ in a fight and got dicey...
