The Adventurous Life of Tom Iron Hand Warren: Mountain Man (The Mountain Men Book 5)

by Terry Grosz

  The four trappers did not leave the Factor’s residence that evening until it read way after midnight on McKenzie’s old wind-up clock on the fireplace mantle. As the trappers wobbled out from the Factor’s residence, he had them escorted to an empty Clerk’s residence inside the fort’s walls, so they could sleep in peace and without a cloud of Missouri River mosquitoes swarming overhead all night. After all, those four Free Trappers were bringing thousands of dollars into his company’s coffers and that was the very least he could do in trying to keep their favor. Especially in light of the fact, if they chose to do so, they could take their furs to St. Louis themselves and make a lot more money than they could at Fort Union...

  The next morning, Iron Hand and Big Foot took their horses out from the fort’s walls and let them graze adjacent the walls of the fort. As they did, both found it easy to relax, as they sat there under the Fort’s nearby guards. Then after the effects of their trying days and the sun’s warmth, they finally began drifting off to sleep out on the open ground under the day’s warmth and the quietness around their herd. An hour or so later, both tired men were soon soundly sleeping in and among their quietly feeding horse and mule herd...

  Shortly thereafter, Iron Hand awoke with a start, as he felt the slight tap of the toe of a moccasin on his side. Opening his eyes and looking upward, he saw standing there quietly beside him was Spotted Eagle and little Sinopa. Both had big grins on their faces, as they found themselves looking down at the biggest trapper on the frontier, previously lying asleep on the ground by a herd of horses like an old buffalo.

  Sitting up and before he was even fully awake, he found little Sinopa in his arms, telling him how happy she was to see him. Giving her a big hug in return, he lifted her back to her feet and took hold of Spotted Eagle’s extended hand and was helped to his feet. There Iron Hand embraced his “Indian Brother”, much to the satisfaction of Spotted Eagle and the happiness of little Sinopa. About then, Big Foot, who had been lying alongside, awoke and was also pleasantly greeted by Spotted Eagle and Sinopa as well.

  Then Spotted Eagle’s face went from an obvious smiling look to one of more serious concern. Then he said, “My Brother, we need to talk.”

  Sensing the deadly serious change in his close friend, Iron Hand turned to Big Foot saying, “Big Foot, would you take Sinopa to the fort’s warehouse, the one with all the fancy things, glass beads and ‘play-pretties’, and let her have the ‘pick of the litter’?”

  Big Foot, also sensing the serious change that took place in Spotted Eagle, got a big grin on his face and said, “I would be glad to. It is not often an old geezer like me can escort a pretty lady into the fort on a shopping trip.” With that and a puzzled look on Sinopa’s face over the quick change in her husband’s demeanor, she went off hand in hand with her friend Big Foot, so she could have the shopping trip of her life, all at the expense of the American Fur Company...

  Once Sinopa was out of earshot, Spotted Eagle began speaking about what had been bothering him. “My Brother, several months ago my village had a fight with some Hudson Bay men and their Gros Ventre supporters on our buffalo hunting grounds. In that fight, we lost several good warriors because those we were fighting had more and better rifles than we did. One of those warriors lost was a friend of mine and a father to two young men from our village. When our hunting party returned, the wife of my friend lost in battle was so upset over the loss of her husband, that she took her own life. That left her two young sons, who in their grief over the loss of both parents began acting like ‘bad Indians’. Soon they were taking from others what was not theirs and being mean to other younger children in the village. Chief Mingan spoke to the two young men about being better members of the village but they continued doing mean things to our people, especially the very young and the very old. Chief Mingan, seeing how they continued behaving badly with my people and not following the teachings of The Great Spirit, banned the two brothers from our village!”

  Then pausing, a really serious look splashed across Spotted Eagle’s face like the news to follow was very bad, he said, “After Chief Mingan banned the two brothers, word came back to my people that they had wandered off into the lands of the Gros Ventre far to the northwest and were now in a band of people who were hunting down white man trappers, killing them and taking all of their furs and horses. Then the killers of the white man trappers would bring those furs and horses to Fort Union to sell and buy more guns, powder and liquor. After that, then they would go back and do more killing and stealing. Two moons ago, that band of bad people, along with those two brothers, came onto our lands and stole a number of my village’s best horses!”

  “When they did, Chief Mingan asked me to form a war party of 20 warriors, hunt down and kill those horse-stealing Gros Ventre and the two now very bad brothers from my own band of people. Since that day, that is what I have been trying to do. But now, information just recently back from part of my war party in the field and whispers from the people in my village, tell me that the bad Gros Ventre and they thought the two brothers were recently ambushed by four trappers along the Missouri River. When that happened, it is reported that there was much killing. But in the killing of that band of bad Gros Ventre, only one of the bad brothers was killed and the other somehow escaped.”

  Continuing, Spotted Eagle said, “When that happened, the remaining bad brother has since joined another band of Gros Ventre, led by a number of evil white trappers, who were Fort Union Company Trappers at one time. Trappers who just last year were banished from the fort by McKenzie for doing bad things to their own kind. Now all of them are killing some of their own in order to steal the furs and horses to sell for white man’s goods at Hudson Bay trading posts, are the whispers now on the lips of my people back in the village. It has also been reported to my people that the older brother of the two, the one with the long scar clear across his forehead that he received after a fall from a running horse, is still alive and involved in all of the killings.”

  Then Spotted Eagle drew himself up to his full height as if to emphasize what he was next to say. “Other words being quietly whispered by my people is that the bad brother not killed in the battle along the river, had arrived late with a pack string of stolen animals and witnessed one large in size trapper killing his brother with a tomahawk. The bad older brother, the one with the scar running across his forehead, is saying to everyone everywhere, that the big trapper who killed his brother with a tomahawk was you, Iron Hand, and now he and the others in his remaining party of bad white people are hunting especially for you and your group of trappers,” said Spotted Eagle with more than just a lilt of concern in his voice! With that information out into the open, Spotted Eagle looked deeply into the eyes of Iron Hand for any sign of worry or deep concern over what could follow should he or his fellow trappers ever cross paths with the bad brother and his group of Gros Ventre and banished from Fort Union white man trapper outlaws.

  Iron Hand just smiled back at the information and the way the words were expressed by his obviously concerned Brother, saying, “Don’t you worry, Little Brother. Yes, I did kill a man in that battle along the river who was trying to kill me with his tomahawk. And yes, we four trappers were the ones who ambushed that band of bad Gros Ventre camped along the river several days ago. But we only did so because they had stolen eight of our horses and 16 packs of our plus from our corral and cabin. Crooked Hand and I tried to overtake the thieves and kill them for stealing our horses and taking our furs, but they escaped to the Missouri River before we caught them and joined up with a much larger band of unknown Indians. Since the two of us could not attack such a large group without being killed ourselves, we had to let them go and ended up losing our horses and 16 packs of furs.”

  “Days later when we left our beaver trapping grounds and were heading for Fort Union, we spotted the light from a campfire along the Missouri River bottoms. So when we found a large number of Indians camped along the river, I sneaked into their camp to see
if they were friendly or not. I did so thinking they might be a band of trappers heading for Fort Union and if so, we would join them for the protection a larger group of us offered. But when I discovered our stolen horses in among their herd, our group later decided we would attack them in the dark of the night, kill them for what they did to us and recover our stolen property. That we further decided to do when I discovered four trappers that they had recently captured, tied to several trees and were murdered when they were all shot full of arrows! We later attacked this band of bad Indians and killed them all for what evil things they had done,” said Iron Hand.

  Continuing, Iron Hand said, “We four trappers did that and it was then that I must have killed one of the bad brothers you are talking about, who was the one who tried to kill me with his tomahawk at the end of the fight. However, we never saw the other bad brother. He must have sneaked in on us after the battle had ended, decided not to attack since we now outnumbered him, then sneaked off and left the area. That is too bad because had he attacked to avenge the death of his brother, we would have killed him as well and then your people would not have to worry anymore about the ‘bad seed’ from your village.”

  With those words, Spotted Eagle said, “My Brother, he will continue hunting you for as long as he shall live. We will still follow Chief Mingan’s orders and continue hunting him and the bad group he is now running with, but if we do not find him before he finds you, you need to be prepared for a fight to the death. For as surely as there is grass for the buffalo to eat, he will pursue you until you kill him or he kills you.”

  Iron Hand just smiled over his Brother’s words of warning and worry saying, “Spotted Eagle, we need to go and see what Sinopa has purchased in the way of ‘play pretties’. Otherwise, she may just take everything she can get her hands on and then you will have to buy more horses just to pack all her things back to your village.” Both men had a good laugh as they walked over to the fort’s warehouses and forgot about the ‘bad seed’ matter and what he would do if he ever ran across Iron Hand in the future.

  The next four weeks found Old Potts and his fellow trappers busy as all get-out. Iron Hand and Crooked Hand spent the better part of three days procuring the provisions needed for their upcoming beaver trapping trip of possibly two years into the unknown in the Porcupine River country. In fact, due to its distance from Fort Union, Old Potts had the two men purchase enough provisions for two trapping seasons in case they were unable to return to the fort after only one year afield. In so doing, the men purchased double provisions of salt, black pepper, sacks of rice, bags of pinto beans, four kegs of gunpowder, four additional kegs of rum, sacks of red pepper flakes, dried apple slices, extra pigs of lead, additional caps for the nipples of their Hawkens and pistols, and triple the amounts of bags of coffee, dried raisins and brown sugar cones.

  Additionally, the men purchased one extra riding saddle and two new pack saddles in case any of what they had were lost, busted up or the porcupines chewed the sweat-soaked leathers for the salt it offered while they were stored in a cache house. They just figured if a river was named the Porcupine River, it had been done so for a damn good reason... They also purchased extra bridles, horseshoes, horseshoe nails, files, another ax, and a 100-foot spool of cotton lead rope to replace that which always seemed to get busted when the pack strings got into dense timber and crossways with a mess of trees with a panicked horse on each side thinking the tree had ahold of them. When that happened, there was usually a ‘rodeo’ and a busted lead rope as the panicked horses went their own ways until recaptured.

  As those two men did the ‘frontier grocery shopping’ for their provisions, Big Foot saw to the needs of the trappers’ riding horse and pack string animals. Being a blacksmith himself in the old civilized world, he took their 20 animals to Fort Union’s two blacksmith shops. There he had all their old horseshoes removed and new ones custom-made for all of their animals when they were re-shoed. He also had the ‘Smithies’ custom-make extra sets of shoes for each individual animal in case, as Old Potts had instructed, they stayed two years afield in the Porcupine River country or took their furs to a distant Rendezvous instead of trekking all the way back to Fort Union. Big Foot then had the ‘Smithies’ ‘float’ the teeth on several of their herd of livestock needing that done to alleviate those problems caused by bad or erupted teeth, causing dangerous teething problems. As the ‘Smithies’ worked their magic on the trappers’ horse herd, Big Foot visited the adjacent leather shop and had the significant and hard-used leather strapping replaced on all of their riding and pack saddles. Additionally, he purchased several bundles of leather strapping in case emergency repairs were needed out along the trail. At the same time, he purchased four new panniers to replace two that were damaged in an earlier horse wreck and two others that were stomped into the mud during the lightning storm that got one of their pack animals killed by a bolt from out of the blue and then run over and pulverized by a large herd of storm-frightened, stampeding buffalo.

  As for Old Potts, he spent the better part of a week visiting newly arriving Free Trappers and Company Trappers returning from the frontier, attempting to gain any and all information regarding the Porcupine River area and its reported trappings. He was also ‘fishing’ for any firsthand information relative to any of the returning trappers’ relationships with the local Gros Ventre. He also figured with the cost of a few cups of rum, he could jar loose and loosen up the flow of any information from normally close-mouthed trappers relevant to the actual truth about the Porcupine River country and its beaver resources. Plus it gave him the opportunity to visit with some of his old friends and also see who had lost their hair during the recent trapping season and had become worm food...

  Then every evening the four men would return to their camp along the Missouri River and discuss the day’s events and the progress being made in their individual preparations for their forthcoming trip into unknown Indian country. During one of those evenings around the campfire after eating another one of Iron Hand’s great raisin and apple Dutch oven pies, Old Potts poured himself ‘three fingers’ of rum, sat back on his sitting log and after a few moments of deep thought, announced to his fellow trappers that he was ready to pack things up and head out.

  In the discussion that followed, Old Potts advised, “The four of us have a long ways to go in country unfamiliar to any of us.” Then after another long swig of rum from his cup, said, “When we get to where we are a-going, we will need to build a new cabin, especially if Harlan Waugh’s old cabin along the Porcupine River is found to be unlivable. If that be the case, that means we will be spending a month building our new cabin, hauling in our winter’s woodpile, building a new set of ‘hell-for-stout’ corrals, constructing a cache house to store our leather goods, saddles and the like out from the weather, get our jerky making, smoking and drying racks built, harvest enough hay from the river bottoms for our horse herd during the worst of winter, hunt buffalo, and build up our winter’s supply of good jerky stocks. Then if that ain’t enough hard work hanging in the wind, we need to cast a small mountain of balls for our lead-eating Hawken rifles and pistols, and then finally scout out the best beaver trapping waters for us to begin our season. And in so doing, manage to keep our heads down and not lose our hair in case we get nosy neighbors who want nothing to do with our kind or wanting us being there in their backyard...”

  After that much ‘wind’, that necessitated Old Potts taking another deep swig of rum from his ever-handy cup. Then Iron Hand spoke up, saying, “Afore we hit the trail if that be the case, I need to purchase another large three-legged cast-iron frying pan because one of the legs broke off my old one and another 16-quart Dutch oven. I can make better biscuits and pies with a larger Dutch, so I would like to get one. Other than that, maybe another set of cooking irons for a second outside fire, some extra tobacco and I will be set,” continued Iron Hand, as he absent-mindedly stirred their campfire with a handy limb.

  “I need to get a cou
ple of tins of some sort of bag balm case we ‘gimp’ up one of our riding horses or sore-up a pack animal. But other than that, we are now ready to go with our animals any time they are needed,” said Big Foot.

  “As for our provisions, we have a load to carry in light of your suggestion to prepare for two instead of one trapping season afore we can resupply,” said Crooked Hand. “It is a damned good thing we have a goodly number of hell-for-stout pack animals this time for all that we will be carrying. My only suggestion for extra provisions is that we get another keg or two of rum. You never know when I will ‘gimp’ up my left leg again between a mean-assed grizzly bear’s jaws, getting knifed by a Gros Ventre or becoming part of a damned good horse wreck,” said Crooked Hand with a big guilty-looking grin over his reasoning for acquiring extra kegs of rum...

  “Then it is settled. We should make our final plans to leave in a couple of days. That a-way, we will be ahead of all those pesky Company Trappers as they head out since we have such a fer piece to be a-going. That plus I have a feeling that Harlan’s old cabin he told me about last season, may not be livable after being abandoned for over a year and if that be the case, we will need to build another one to suit our tastes. If we do, Big Foot, you need to build another one with a narrow front door and a step-sill like you did last time that saved our bacon when those damn Gros Ventre came a-knocking in the dead of night like they did. Also, I had the blacksmiths build us a hell-for-stout iron chain so’s we can really secure our horse corral so’s no one can come a-knocking and just open the gate and waltz off with our stock like they did last year. Also, McKenzie gave me one of them fancy ‘pad-o-locks’ from one of his keelboats that we can use on the corral gate. He did so after I shared our story about them damn horse-stealing Indians that kept running off with our livestock. I think he did so because he is hoping we come back next year with a larger horse herd than we left with like in times past once again. That a-way, he can buy those extra horses from us for some of his Company Trappers who aren’t as lucky or as careful with their stock animals as we be. However, that chain and lock will not do us any good unless we built a hell-for-stout corral with larger logs so’s them Indians kain’t push them over so easily to get at them horses. So, building that horse corral is just another good reason as to why we need to get a-moving purdy damn soon,” concluded Old Potts, as he emptied the last drop of rum from out of his cup.