Ten steps into the canyon Pegleg lay facedown with his throat slit, a large splash of blood in the dirt. By the prints we understood that there had been many natives hidden in the canyon before our arrival. There were no horses left in the canyon. They had all been taken. Every one. We had not a single horse left. Grignon had vanished.
We remembered that it was Grignon who had informed us of the location of that water hole and had guided us there. In a single moment I realized I’d lost a good friend, my fortune, and my future happiness with Alene, as without horses I would not make it back to the settlement before springtime.
As it grew dark Smith arranged us into defensive positions and we watched as fires appeared to the east and north. Many drums and savage cries and chanting filled the night. I lay there, gun pointed into the darkness, and thought how close we had come to succeeding, and how a single man, if well placed and sufficiently treacherous, can bring down the good work and preparation of much better men.
After midnight Smith came to my fortification and said, “Stretch your limbs, Wyeth, or are you afraid of a little scraping?”
I was led into the narrow arm of the canyon where the horses had been corralled and Ferris and Layton were already waiting. Smith and Branch had dug a grave for Pegleg using a knife and an iron bar from a pannier and the one shovel. Layton, Ferris, and I took over, and for several hours we expanded a hollow in the bank. It was pitch black in the canyon, and as we worked we cursed Grignon and invented methods of torment for him—scalping, cutting off limbs, cooking his innards—and with each imagined atrocity we laughed and then laughed some more and were then overtaken by a giddy, manic, abject hilarity. Odd. Pegleg dead and us on the scaffold and my future happiness dashed. Mostly, I remember laughing.
After several hours we were relieved by Bridger and Branch and just before dawn we gathered to bury Pegleg. In the dim light I looked into the face of my dead friend for the last time, and I thought that if Grignon were in front of me I would have committed depredations that would have outdone those of the savages.
Having interred Pegleg, we took half the pelts and piled them in the hastily constructed cache and covered it with dirt, which was stomped down and smoothed with branches from a shrub. We threw the remaining dirt into the stream and wiped out our footprints and tried to smooth away any sign that anyone had been there. We thought, perhaps, it would be the means of salvaging half the season, if we could survive.
As the light rose we saw what we were up against. There were more than a hundred natives in a half circle around our encampment, some waiting with their lances raised, others dashing back and forth, but none approaching the crater.
Beyond the natives, about half a mile away, there was a low point we could not see, but by the dust and the smoke from fires we could tell it was occupied by many men.
After an hour of waiting the natives quieted and a gap formed in the ring and a single man on horseback started out from the main body. Smith glassed the rider and something settled over his features. He handed the glass to Layton who looked for a moment, moved his mouth around, and lowered the glass.
“Pike,” he said. Then, “Come on, Wyeth. You pointed a gun at him last time you saw him. You can do it again with the savages behind him.”
Layton, Smith, and I started out across the desert on foot. We stopped a hundred yards out from the crater and Pike rode toward us slowly. I could see that he was enjoying himself. He dismounted and took his time picketing his horse. As he did it five British trappers in deerskins rode out and stopped behind him, muskets pointed toward us, in case we had thoughts of blasting him and ending his life with our own.
“Henry Layton,” Pike said as he walked up, extending his hand. “How good to see you.”
“I believe it must be pleasant for you,” Layton said, ignoring his hand.
“Our company was passing through these territories, which will soon be ours, and we saw what appeared to be a brigade of trappers stranded without horses. We have come to your aid just as you came to the aid of my men.”
“Wonderfully coincidental,” Layton said.
“I have some influence with the natives. I can transport you to safety at Flathead Post for the customary price that you have already established.”
“Two packs of fur is the customary price,” Layton said.
“The price, which you established, is all the pelts gathered in exchange for your lives. I will take all your pelts. You are free to accompany us to safety.”
“I’d rather slit my throat,” Layton said.
“I believe the natives will accommodate you in that,” Pike said. Then to Smith, “I apologize Jedediah. You are in bad company.”
“I have grown to appreciate my company more than ever,” Smith said. “In the spring we inadvertently came upon three Snake natives who were stealing from us on your orders. We saved them from the Gros Ventre at the cost of two packs of fur. You have purposefully lured us into a trap at the cost of many times that amount of pelts and at the cost of a good man’s life.”
“I did not sanction that.”
“It happened all the same. He lies back in the drainage with his throat slit. Pegleg Cummins, from Mississippi.”
“It was not my doing,” Pike said.
“It was the result of your treachery.”
“The treachery was not mine but one of your own brigade. I was simply invited to profit from it, same as you were before.”
Smith looked away and spoke bitterly. “We may have taken too many pelts from the Snake, but it was not by design, and there was no treachery involved. You realize that.”
“Of course he realizes it,” Layton said acidly. “Why even talk to the blackguard? He simply wants our furs.”
“And I will have them,” Pike said. He turned on Layton with a sudden, steely annoyance. “Henry Layton, winner of friends and protector of old ladies. Since our last encounter I have made inquiries and heard of your adventures along the wharfs in St. Louis. You of all people should not talk of leading others to their demise. You are not well remembered, either at home or abroad.”
“I cannot speak for others,” Smith said, “but he is well-liked in this brigade among those who know him best.”
Layton nodded to Smith with genuine gratitude. “Thank you, Jedediah.”
“What I have said is true,” Smith said. “You have become an able captain and trapper. All have noted it.”
Even at that moment, Layton beamed with pleasure.
“I thank you again.”
“You two will have much time to bask in your mutual appreciation,” Pike said. “Step away from your weapons and let my men approach or we will cut you down.”
Smith began to step away but at that moment a horseman broke from the ranks of natives and rode toward us. Pike waved the horseman off, but the rider kept coming. It was Grignon. He was wearing a new deerskin jacket and his cheeks were clean-shaven and he had gotten oil from somewhere for his mustache. In a day he had transformed himself into a British dandy.
Layton and I reached for our weapons, but Smith made a hissing sound and we lowered them reluctantly.
“Morning, Layton. Morning, Captain,” Grignon said in a particularly jaunty tone.
“Back in the ranks,” Pike said.
“You ought to be thanking me, not giving orders,” Grignon said airily to Pike. “I have just made you a fortune.”
“And yourself one,” Pike said.
Smith watched Grignon steadily with absolute hatred.
“Pegleg lies with his throat slit,” Smith said. “He was a good man and a loyal friend. I will make it my life’s work to repay that treachery.”
It was said simply and with absolute conviction. Grignon tried to appear unaffected, though his voice shook.
“Pegleg was given a choice,” Grignon said.
“I know the sort of choice you gave him. He would not betray his friends or his country so you killed him for it. I will track you down, Grignon.”
&nbs
p; “And if Smith doesn’t find you, I will,” Layton said.
Grignon sniffed and looked away. “I will make it easy for both of you. You can find me next in London at the Manor House. Good day,” he said.
Grignon started back. Pike held his mouth shut, displeased. He had not wanted that interchange and it was clear he disliked Grignon.
“Now it is you who have aligned yourself with savory companions,” Smith said sarcastically to Pike. “You will regret it.”
“Perhaps I will regret having to associate with your pleasant countryman. I already regret his tone and will correct that when I have the chance. I feel he will never be a true member of our brigade. I will make up for the unpleasant association with a successful return on the season and the knowledge that the boundaries of this region will be redrawn in our favor. Very soon I will no longer have to debate about where I place my flag. I repeat what I said before, Jedediah. You are a solid fellow. When the land officially changes ownership I expect to find you looking for a job and will gladly hire you.”
“You are overly optimistic about the new borders.”
“I am optimistic, but understandably so,” Pike said. “We control all the land between the mountains and have just secured the largest return in the history of the entire country. You can leave your companions and come with us now, if you like. Or you can return to this country in several years’ time. A British brigade awaits you.”
Smith turned and looked away. He said nothing.
“Then I leave you to your fate,” Pike said, and turned to go, but Layton stopped him, saying, “We gave your natives horses when we rescued them. If you mean to offer a fair exchange, leave us seven horses so we can return to our country.”
“There are seven of you. Seven horses will guarantee that you will make mischief. I will leave you four. That is enough to go for help, but not enough to make a nuisance of yourself, as the other three will be at our mercy.”
“There was a black thoroughbred among the horses,” Layton said. “Make that one of the four. We will need it if we are to survive the winter.”
“The black thoroughbred that was among the horses is a fine creature and is now picketed next to my lodging,” Pike said.
“That horse belongs to the son of Chief Long Hair,” Layton said. “It was loaned for the trip, and was to be returned by the mulatto Branch after our journey. It is not our horse.”
This was untrue, and Pike could have confirmed this by asking Grignon, but he did not want to see Grignon again and did not call him.
“It appears we will be wintering in the Crow encampment,” Layton said. “It will make their charity to us more palatable if we have not lost their prized animal.”
“I hardly need worry about your discomfort with the natives.”
“You do need to worry about their displeasure when they discover you have stolen their prized animal. That thoroughbred was the property of Chief Long Hair and is now the property of his son. The Crow will know you took it despite being informed of its true owner.”
Pike considered this silently. He knew it was foolish to unnecessarily anger a native chieftain. Without a word he walked back to his horse, unpicketed it, mounted, and said, “Agreed. Four horses. One of them the black. You will temporarily surrender your arms and withdraw from your positions. You see that single tree out in the flats.” He pointed at a scraggly cottonwood. “You wait there. My men will hold your weapons during that time and will extract payment for your lives. Any variation and I will release the natives to do as they please.”
Pike wheeled slowly and rode away.
Smith turned to Layton. “I am glad you can still think of horseflesh.”
“I’m thinking of retrieving our furs.”
“With four horses?”
“Yes.”
“Explain,” Smith said.
“Let’s see if they find the cache first,” Layton said.
Smith did not question him further, and we all walked back to the crater. Smith advised the men to surrender their weapons and to walk out to the tree indicated. A minute later Pike’s men marched in with twenty-five beasts, and one by one led off our spoils from the entire year. At first they only found half of the pelts, the other half being hidden in the cache, but Grignon knew the size of our take and rode in and walked about inside the crater and into the canyon and through all its various channels and found the newly dug spot. Layton looked off at the wastelands cursing Grignon. Smith sat leaden and silent. That return had meant a secure life and many comforts for the entire brigade, and for me it represented a happy future with Alene. All of it was carried away in less than an hour.
After the last furs and most of our supplies had been removed, and only a few lead bars and dregs of a barrel of powder remained, Pike returned with two men leading four horses, one of which was the black thoroughbred I had won in the horse race. Pike rode past us and said to Layton, “It was truly a remarkable return for a season. Thank you for taking the trouble of gathering it for us. If I see you again my men will dispatch you. Good day.”
He motioned to the riders behind him. The first horseman rode up and tossed the halter of the black and struck Layton in the face with it. Layton reached for his pistol but it was not on his hip, as it had been surrendered. When the men were a hundred yards out one of them unrolled a robe and our guns and knives and pistols and hatchets clattered out onto the scrubland, all of them without powder or balls.
We waited until the riders were a smudge on the horizon and then we started out and gathered our weapons and returned to the crater. Our belongings were scattered and tossed into the muddy water. Many of our personal items had been taken. In the canyon we saw the Brits had trampled over Pegleg’s shallow grave.
When I talk about this now—I mean, this story of my friendship with Ferris and Layton and our unexpected foray into international affairs—this is the moment when men doubt my story. There are royalists who say that a respected and honored man like Sebastian Pike, second-in-command of the western branch of the Hudson’s Bay Company, would never risk an international conflict over the spoils of a single season of pelts from an obscure trapping company. All I can say is that it happened and it was not an illogical decision on his part. The greatest fear of the British was that an American brigade would arrive in St. Louis with an enormous return, which would set off a stampede to the trapping lands by the impulsive Americans, who seemed incapable of judging a situation accurately if there was the smallest possibility of making a fortune. And though the British government denied the assault happened, it did in fact happen just as I have written here. One man died from it, Pegleg Cummins, and we were left stranded in the wasteland, seven men with four horses and little in the way of powder or balls. But Layton, with his habitual scheming, had considered a way to use the four horses, and particularly the black thoroughbred, to regain our fortune. As it turned out the future of the western half of our country, the best part of the country, I believe, may have rested on my horse, Ferris’s shot, and Layton’s powers of persuasion.
By midmorning, Layton, Ferris, Branch, and I were dashing back across the scrubland and by midafternoon we’d arrived at that region of rock elephants that we’d passed through the day before. We crept up the sloping back of the southernmost of the elephants and glassed the native encampment we had seen previously. It held fifty or sixty lodges and many horses in a corral beyond. After we had all taken a look, Layton said, “Three ride in. One stays behind and observes. You’re the fastest, Wyeth. If we perish you go north and east and find an American trapping company. You could be back here in a week with reinforcements and save the remains of the brigade.”
“And leave you to the natives?”
“If it comes to that, yes,” Layton said. “Whether we are three or four, we’re still hopelessly outnumbered. If we perish you can be the means of aiding the rest of the brigade.”
“The others have ample food and water,” I said. “They will be discovered regardless of whethe
r I bring horses or not.”
“There is no certainty of that,” Layton said. “And if you keep yourself hidden we are assured that at least one of us will survive. You could still make it back to Fort Ashley before the turn of the year. Alene awaits—”
“Do you think I’d use Alene as an excuse to abandon the brigade in its most desperate moment?” I said.
“I am certain you wouldn’t, Wyeth, which is why I am attempting to reason with you, knowing you would not suggest it yourself.”
Layton caught Ferris’s eye and I understood they had spoken of it beforehand.
“There would be no shame in staying hidden, and much good sense,” Ferris said. “The fortune you’d receive from Alene is far greater than anything we’ve gathered here. These pelts mean less for you than they do for us. And another’s happiness depends on your survival. Stay hidden. Observe the parley. And if we are slain you remain with a horse to go for help.”
“Do you think I’d be such a coward as to let you three go without me? Smith, Glass, and Bridger will be discovered regardless. You know that. And if anyone is to stay at a distance it ought to be Ferris, as he has the best shot. I will not remove my gun from the negotiations out of self-interest.”
“Then do it for Alene,” Layton said. “If you perish you ruin two people’s lives. If I die I will make several parties exceedingly happy, including my father.”
“I hardly believe that,” I said.
“I feel it is more true than you know,” he said.
“I will not burrow into some hole while you risk your life,” I said.
“Well, someone ought to stay back,” Ferris said. “If it were Layton in your position he would have ridden off already, leaving us to our fate.”
“That is untrue and unjust,” Layton shouted. “Untrue and unjust and I resent the implication, Ferris. I demand you take it back. I am trying to save Wyeth’s life and using all means to persuade him, but I cannot say I would scatter at this desperate moment. I would not and I cannot say I would.”
Into the Savage Country Page 20
