Crossed Arrows: Mountain Men (The Mountain Men Book 1)

by Terry Grosz

  The next morning, Jacob, Martin and Ben went back to the rendezvous to pick up additional supplies. When they returned to camp, they were surprised to see the two teenage boys each wearing an altered set of buckskin shirts and pants, clothing that had originally belonged to Ben. Additionally, they each sported a new Hudson’s Bay Company blanket coat for winter travel, and they each wore a new pair of moccasins that Jacob had received in partial trade for the Crow’s rifles. Each boy had a smile a mile wide to match.

  Those two young men may not have had a family for all intents and purposes but they sure were dressed up fit to kill and now looking like family, Jacob thought.

  Jacob asked the two boys to sit with him on a log by the fire. He loaded up his pipe and—mindful of the ass chewing he got the night before from Singing Bird’s eyes for making the boys cry—he tried a different approach to understanding the boys’ life history.

  “My name is Jacob. That tall one here with the scar on his cheek is Martin, a boyhood family friend. My other partner is Ben, a friend Martin and I met on the boat that brought us to this land from St. Louis. They are both Delaware Indians from back east of the Mississippi River who lost their homes just like you boys. Only in their cases, to crooked land-thieving speculating white men. Me, I came from a faraway land called Kentucky where I, too, lost my parents in an Indian raid. We are fur trappers now, and with the exception of Ben, have been so but for a short time. But we enjoy the wilderness and plan on making it our home unless we cripple up from a horse wreck, meet the wrong end of Ephraim, get stuck with an arrow or just roll over and die. Hostile Indians looking to lift one’s hair or crooked thieving white men always being a problem out here makes for a concern if one is to see the next sunrise. So much so, that one has to learn to stand on his own two legs. Otherwise, he will become wolf, bear or vulture bait. So with that in mind, can either of you boys shoot?”

  “Yes, sir,” they both uttered quickly in the same breath. “Our Pa taught the both of us to shoot and shoot straight when we was young,” said the one with deep blue eyes.

  “What are your names?” asked Jacob as Ben and Martin moved closer to the fire in order to hear better.

  “My name is Jeremiah Hunter,” said the one with deep, piercing blue eyes. This was the same lad who had defiantly taken the switch earlier from the Ute Indian and broken it, only to be rewarded with a thrashing from a horse quirt before Jacob stepped in. Jacob smiled at the name, as it brought back memories of his uncle Jeremiah living in Kentucky.

  “And yours?” he asked, pointing the stem of his pipe at the boy with dark brown eyes and heavy thatch of hair to match.

  The lad sat up straight as if to emphasize his size saying, “My name is Leo Hunter.”

  “How old are you boys?” Jacob asked.

  “Sixteen, sir,” responded the boys in unison.

  Jacob had to smile, as did Martin. The two of them were sixteen when they left home to venture west and make their marks. Jacob, Ben and Martin all looked at each other over the boys’ easy and correct manners with a smile. That kind of behavior went a long way in the frontier and in their camp.

  “Well, Jeremiah, Leo,” said Jacob, “I’ve told you our story. I know you’ve had a hard time of it, but I’d like to hear your tale, orphan to orphan. Tell me where you come from, and if you have family, and how you came to be captives of the Ute Indians. Pretty much the same questions I asked yesterday, but now that you both have a belly full of good eatin’ and a decent night’s sleep, perhaps you can buck up and give me an account I can follow. You were so upset and darn exhausted yesterday, I could barely understand a word.”

  “Yes, sir,” Leo said, sitting up straight with renewed vigor. His brother Jeremiah added, “And sirs, please don’t think we don’t appreciate being rescued and sharing your gracious hospitality. Your buying our freedom, well, it came so sudden that we didn’t know what was happening to us. I guess we gave up hope.”

  “Yes, sir,” Leo repeated. “And Ma always said the Bible tells us, never give up hope, God will take care of us.”

  “That, and a few Crow horses,” Ben chuckled. The boys were too gratified to get Ben’s little joke.

  Leo continued. “And thank Miss Singing Bird for us, sir. She does cook good food, the best we have had in a long time.”

  “Call me ‘sir’ one more time,” Jacob growled, “and I’ll take you back to them savage Utes. I told you, my name is Jacob. I’m hardly much older than you are.” Jacob extended his hand. First Leo, then Jeremiah took the hand, and they all shook in the way that says a boy is now a man among men. “So, I’m waiting, what’s your story?”

  Leo and Jeremiah looked to each other. Leo nodded to indicate Jeremiah should tell the story:

  They had come from Ohio with their parents and three sisters some years earlier. They had settled on the Western Slope of the Rocky Mountains, not far from Antoine Robidoux’s trading post at Fort Uncompahgre. Their father and two other families had banded together and were beginning to farm the rich Colorado River valley. A large band of Northern Ute Indians swooped down, and killed or captured all three families. The Utes burned their home, killed their parents and split up their sisters among several other tribes; they knew not where.

  “Leo and I, we’re all that’s left of our family, all we have is each other.” Jeremiah smiled at his brother, a smile that apparently been dormant for some time.

  Leo and Jeremiah were enslaved by Bull Bear’s band for about eight months, since just a few weeks before Christmas. They had been made to do the worst jobs and often pulled travois when there were not enough horses, switched and beat for miles a day.

  “If it wasn’t for Jeremiah, I would’ve given up a long time ago,” Leo added. “He always said a time would come when we would escape, and we tried a few times, but trying to outrun a Ute is like trying to outrun a grizzly. They just don’t give up.”

  “We had been thinking the rendezvous would be a chance to make a run for it,” Jeremiah said. “But them filthy Indians must have been thinking the same thing, because they kept us apart and tied up, out of sight. You, sir, ah, Jacob, then traded us for those horses. And we are so grateful.”

  “Well, here is where we are, boys. We will spend one more day at the rendezvous carrying on and having a good time. Then we are heading back into the Bighorns for another trapping season. It is getting late in the season and we must head for our winter camp and lay in some meat, hay and wood before the snow flies. Hence the need for an early departure from this here shindig. Since you boys don’t have nobody, you have two choices to make, to my way of thinking. We can outfit you with our extra horses and gear and let you ride out so you can try to get back to Ohio to your kinfolk, or you can join up with us to become free trappers,” said Jacob.

  Both boys looked at each other and then Jeremiah said, “May we join up with you? Since you four are all we have now and neither of us remembers much of Ohio nor where the rest of our kin went with the Indians, we want to think of you as our family. Plus, we don’t want to go back to those Indians ever again!” Jacob turned to Ben and Martin. “What do you think? Keep them or skin and pelt them out for sale at the next rendezvous?”

  “Well, if they can ride, shoot and skin, we might as well as keep them,” said Martin with his twisted form of a smile. “After all, extra hands in this country are like good meat, never goes to waste,” he continued.

  The looks on Ben and Singing Bird’s faces told it all.

  You would think Jeremiah and Leo were the children Singing Bird never had. I don’t think she is of the mind to lose them entirely to a bunch of raggedy fur trappers who think of nothing but eating, belching and beaver trapping, Jacob mused.

  * * *

  The next day, the men, including Bridger and Glass, stood at the edge of a nearby copse of trees that sheltered their camps with rifles in hand.

  “That staub on that stump out there about seventy yards is your target. Think you can hit it?” Jacob asked Leo.
<
br />   “Yes, sir,” he replied as he hoisted the heavy Hawken to his right shoulder.

  Ben had spent about ten minutes going over the rifle and its workings with both of the boys just moments before so they would be ready for this. It was obvious from their questions and demeanor that both boys were skilled in the use of rifles, especially older-style flintlocks.

  Ka-boom rolled out the roar of the Hawken along with a cloud of white smoke. The staub on the stump exploded and was no more. The men looked approvingly at Leo as he slowly lowered the rifle with a big grin of satisfaction on his face.

  Then it was Jeremiah’s turn. “What do you want me to shoot at, Jacob?” asked the boy.

  “Take that thick limb on the log to the rear of where your brother just shot,” Jacob replied.

  Jeremiah reloaded the rifle and then hoisted the heavy Hawken with ease. He set the trigger and, taking less time than his brother, touched her off. The limb did a cartwheel into the air ten feet above the log before sailing off into the sagebrush and landing in a puff of dust.

  The men looked at each other in amazement.

  These kids can shoot! Jacob thought approvingly.

  Even Jim Bridger just nodded his head at the exhibition the two boys just put on.

  “Well, I’ve certainly seen enough,” Jacob said. “I sure can’t see any reason why we need to waste any more powder or balls. You two certainly know your way around a rifle. Let’s go back to camp. Singing Bird is waiting for a report on your abilities. She’s a full partner in this operation, so she has a right to have her curiosity settled right away.”

  Singing Bird went to meet the group of men as they returned and, after taking one look at the men’s faces, realized the boys had just passed muster. And from the looks on the boy’s faces, they shot circles around anything the men had thought possible. She flashed a huge grin at that revelation. A short time later, she quietly approached Jacob when he was alone with the horses.

  In sign, she asked about the yellow metal that made white men mad that Jacob had laid at the flap of her tepee the night before. Jacob explained in his broken Lakota what he had said to the others the evening before about the golden ingots.

  “We traded bear-claw necklace for...yellow metal. White Men say ‘gold.’ It is very valuable. You are partner, you get equal share.”

  Singing Bird was taken aback by Jacob’s explanation. Slowly, she remembered that the men said she was an equal among them. She blushed, and signed “Fair trade.” Then she walked back to her tepee where the parfleche of gold still lay.

  Still smiling at being considered a full member of the group— something very unusual for any Indian woman—she picked up her share of the golden treasure and put it into her tepee. She had never experienced her own wealth before, and she found the new feeling of being an equal much to her way of liking.

  Singing Bird cooked dinner. She realized, for the first time, that merely by cooking, she contributed to the success of the trapping party, a party that had grown. When everyone finished eating by the campfire, she watched as Jacob asked all the men to come with him to his lean-to. Even Bridger and Glass were invited.

  Tom Oliver had left his two friends, Bridger had said, to head out with another group for the Sierra Nevada Mountains, in California. Singing Bird did not know where this was, and she missed Oliver, because he had always been the first to compliment her on her meals. But Bridger was always quick to outdo Oliver’s compliments, and tonight had been no exception.

  As she collected the tin plates and started to wash them, the men returned. Jacob and Martin carried the extra two Hawkens they had purchased from Henry Fraeb, and a bundle of other items she could not see.

  “Singing Bird,” Jacob said, “please put that down. We have a special occasion and the need of all partners to agree.” Singing Bird, knowing the importance of being part of the company of trappers, set the plates on one of the logs and approached the others.

  “As you all know, Jeremiah and Leo Hunter have asked to be partners in our trapping company. They have demonstrated the ability to shoot keenly, and they are brave in the face of adversity. Martin, Ben and I agree that it will be advantageous to include them in our company. We need all the partners to agree, so what say you, Singing Bird.”

  Singing Bird almost burst out with laughter. Certainly, she wanted the boys to join them, they so needed a new family. Jacob’s official manner, like an Indian chief divvying the parts of a buffalo, seemed silly. But this was important company business, and this was, she suddenly realized, the first important decision she had ever been asked to make.

  “Yes, I welcome Jeremiah Hunter and Leo Hunter to this company.” She reached out to the boys as she had seen the others do, to shake hands. Instead, Jeremiah and Leo hugged her while Bridger led the others in three cheers of “Hip, Hip, Hurrah!” Jacob picked up both Hawkens and continued the ceremony. He handed a rifle to each of the brothers. “Jeremiah and Leo Hunter, these rifles are yours to use in what lies ahead. Take care of them, and they will take care of you.”

  Jacob opened the bundle and brought forth several new Green River gutting and skinning knives. He handed these to the brothers as well and said, “These are yours, as well. You will discover that next to your rifle, the knife is your best friend. Care for them well, and learn how to use them, because they just may save your lives someday.”

  The two boys examined the weapons in their hands and then thanked all of the company.

  Jacob continued, “Tomorrow, each of you can pick out a horse not yet claimed from the herd, and you can use the military saddles we got in trade from the Cheyenne.”

  Martin reached out to the boys with a bag of possibles, with ammo and powder and tools for the Hawkens. “Now that you are part of our family, you should look the part.”

  “Welcome to the family,” Ben said.

  Singing Bird watched the two boys intently. She could feel that they felt happier than they had ever been in a very long time. She also caught the instance of Martin calling the company “family.” She silently agreed with the term.

  In a rare display, Martin, Ben and Jacob in turn clasped the Hunter brothers, slapping each other hard on the backs. Singing Bird snuck another round of hugs in the latest “Hurrah.”

  * * *

  The men took the boys to the rendezvous the next day. They all chuckled at the looks on Leo and Jeremiah’s faces. It was obvious neither boy had ever been to such an event as a participant. While there, the company traded some of their remaining credit with Henry Fraeb for several more powder horns, bullet molds and extra ramrods for the boys’ Hawkens.

  Many of the other trappers found themselves enviously looking upon those young men and their fine rifles. Flintlocks were good and in abundance with the trappers in general. However, the new heavy-barreled Hawkens were in a class all of their own and admired as such.

  That was soon born out when the boys entered several shooting contests with the old-guard trappers. Soon piles of beaver pelts were wagered as the boys shot the “eyes” out of every target put before them.

  When they returned to camp that night, Jacob told Martin that he couldn’t have been prouder if the boys had been his. They had won two excellent riding horses and a pile of pelts in the shoot offs, and in the process, besting some of the finest shooters at the rendezvous. That ability to shoot well and accurately would soon be put to practice, in the most deadly and lifesaving of ways.

  The next morning as they broke camp, Jim Bridger came over to say goodbye.

  “I will be going west out Pacific Ocean way,” he declared. “Which way you and the boys be agoin’?” he asked.

  “Back to the Bighorn Mountains. There is still good trapping there to be had and we mean to catch what we can while the trappin’s are good,” replied Jacob.

  “Well, manage to keep your hair so we can meet next year at Pierre’s Hole.” With that and a firm handshake, Bridger mounted up. With a wave of hands from both he and Glass, they meandered west
ward to new adventures of their own.

  After Bridger and Glass left, it took another hour to get Jacob and company loaded and ready. With Martin in the lead, followed by Jacob, the boys, Ben, Singing Bird, and their pack strings, they strung out pretty impressively. They now had seventeen horses both for riding and packing in their strings. Every pack animal was carrying a load as well, as were the two horses pulling the travois.

  Martin pulled back to Jacob and told him, “It is a good feeling to have done so well from our labors and have so many goods to show for our work. Without a doubt, we have enough supplies for a good year, and if necessary, two, before we need to resupply. And we are now a group of five men who are more than capable of caring for ourselves, and with Singing Bird as the camp boss, that makes it all the better.”

  They retraced their steps back to the Big Sandy where they had lost Buffalo Calf. They approached Buffalo Calf’s resting site, only to find his burial scaffold gone. Riding up to the spot, they observed that Buffalo Calf’s bones had been picked clean and were scattered about by flesh-eaters of every kind. Closer examination revealed that buffalo had used the vertical scaffold timbers as rubbing posts and knocked the whole thing down in the process. Once on the ground, the scavengers had picked at Buffalo Calf’s remains.

  Singing Bird gathered up his now dried bones and buried them by a large boulder overlooking the Big Sandy with the appropriate Lakota ceremony. The Lakota ritual and reason for their return was completed and now she was a free women to choose any man for a husband if she so desired or was of a mind.

  For the next several weeks, Jacob and company steadily traveled back over their earlier route to their winter quarters. All along the way, the three men took turns teaching and training the boys in the ways of the trapper, of survival and how to read the wilderness. That included the use and care of a knife and rapid reloading of their Hawkens.

  Singing Bird seemed happier than she ever had been, especially with the attention from the two boys who took to her as their own mother...and from Ben, who now never left her side.