Slater's Way

by Charles G. West

  Thinking he must be out of his head, she just stood glaring at him for a few moments longer while she let herself simmer down. After a long pause, she finally spoke. “You are too much like Teddy, I think. Are you hungry?”

  “About to starve,” he said.

  “Good.” She reached out to him. “Come, I will help you back to the fire and I’ll get you some food. You must build your strength back.”

  * * *

  Slater stayed two more days in Summer Rain’s tipi before insisting that he was ready to move back to the side of the river. Finally when Red Basket realized that he was determined to go, no matter how hard she argued, she and Little Wren made a half shelter for him, using a large hide from a buffalo bull.

  Using his old shirt as a pattern, and with Red Basket’s help, Little Wren started sewing a new shirt for him out of a doeskin she had planned to use for her father. Broken Ax playfully teased Slater, telling him that he had stolen his new shirt. Slater insisted that his old shirt was sufficient. It had only the one bullet hole and would be fine when the bloodstained shoulder and sleeve faded out a little. But he learned that protesting to Little Wren was as useless as arguing with Red Basket.

  When Slater was settled in his riverside camp, Broken Ax came to talk to him about the extra horses that had followed him to the village. “There were three good saddles and bridles on the horses,” he said. “There was no place to put them, so I piled them behind the tipi and covered them with a hide.”

  Slater had not really thought about them until that moment, and chided himself for not having done anything about the horses. “I would like for you to look at the saddles and take the best one for yourself,” he said. “To show my thanks for taking Red Basket and me in your lodge, and welcoming us, I would also like to give you the four horses that followed me here. That would make me feel better about the trouble I have caused you.”

  Broken Ax was astounded by Slater’s generosity. “My sister and you are more than welcome. There is no need for such gifts.”

  “I want you to have them,” Slater insisted. “Maybe you can give one of the other two saddles to Chief Lame Elk, and do what you want with the other one.”

  “I thank you, my friend,” Broken Ax said. Then, with a sense of humor that was never far from the surface, he teased, “I thought you would bring me those horses for my daughter. She is already doing many things for you that are a wife’s duty.”

  The somber expression that seldom left his face blanched only slightly. “I would not insult Little Wren,” he said. “She would be worth more horses than four.”

  Broken Ax laughed. “That is what she would say.” He remembered that Lame Elk’s son, Running Fox, had offered ten and was refused.

  * * *

  His wound healed rapidly. There was no infection and he regained use of the shoulder within a week’s time, although he could not yet put any strain on it. Although he protested that he was able, Red Basket would not permit him to help her cut poles for her own tipi. It was a woman’s work anyway, she told him, and she needed no help. When she had finished it, it was a fine tipi, indeed. The time was right for him to abandon his makeshift camp and move into warmer quarters. The days were getting colder as fall warned of the winter to follow.

  He was content to let his shoulder regain its strength at its own pace for a couple of weeks until he began to grow tired of tipi life and started thinking more of the mountains and forests.

  Red Basket recognized the signs of restlessness. She had seen them often enough when Teddy was still with her. So when he announced one morning that it was time to ride to the mountains to hunt before the hard winter set in and the passes would be difficult to get through, she made no attempt to dissuade him.

  “Do you think your shoulder is strong?” she merely asked.

  “Yes,” he answered. “It’s almost back to full strength. I tested it with my bow yesterday. I’ve laid around your tipi too long. My body is gettin’ lazy. If I don’t get out pretty soon, I’ll be too soft to ride. It’s way past time when I shoulda been huntin’ for the winter, but there’s always game to find in the mountains, deer, elk, and bear. I’ve gotta get you enough meat to last you awhile.”

  She made no comment on it, but she noticed that he always talked about storing supplies and meat enough for her, and never for them. She suspected that he was thinking again about the offer he had had to scout for the soldiers. He had mentioned several times that he had to get back to Fort Ellis to get the money the army owed him for the days he scouted for them.

  It disappointed her, for she had truly hoped that he would be content to stay in Lame Elk’s village and eventually take Little Wren for his wife. She knew that Little Wren wanted it, even though the young girl had never confided that fact to Red Basket.

  “Where will you go to hunt?” Red Basket asked. “Broken Ax said that the game is already getting scarce all along the river. The buffalo were not as many this past summer as before, but he felt that there was enough to see us through the winter. Even so, he said many of the people have been talking about moving closer to the government agency at Mission Creek at least for the winter, where the agent will give us food.”

  “Broken Ax is right,” Slater said. “There ain’t no antelope or deer on the prairie now, but I’m gonna go back to those mountains where I got shot. I saw plenty of sign up there in the little time I had to look for it. There’s elk back up in those mountains, and bear. I think I can get you a good supply—for Broken Ax and Summer Rain, too. So you won’t have to go to no agency.”

  “Why would you go back to the place where they tried to kill you?” Red Basket asked.

  Slater shrugged. “’Cause them that tried to kill me are dead,” he answered dryly.

  “You said you did not kill the woman,” she said.

  “I didn’t, but I expect she’s long gone, most likely to some little settlement on the Yellowstone—especially if she really did know where some gold was hid in that camp.”

  Judging by what she would likely do if she was in Lola’s shoes, she felt compelled to warn him, “Don’t underestimate that woman. She sounds like a real bobcat, and she might be more dangerous than the two men that were with her. A woman can hold deeper evil than a man can. Why don’t you ask Broken Ax to go with you?”

  “I ’preciate what you’re sayin’, but I always did hunt better by myself. Those mountains cover a lot of territory. I ain’t even goin’ in the same place I was in when they jumped me.”

  “Those mountains are half a day’s ride from here. You will have to smoke the meat there, or it will spoil,” she said, trying to think of something to discourage him.

  “That’s what I plan to do,” he said. “I ain’t figurin’ on comin’ back till I’ve got my packhorse loaded down with smoked meat.”

  He was not aware of Little Wren standing behind him until she spoke. “You’re getting ready to leave again,” she stated simply.

  He turned to face her. “Yep, I’m goin’ to do some huntin’. I’ll bring some meat for you and your folks. I figure I owe you that for makin’ this shirt for me, since you wouldn’t let me pay you any money for it. It’s a mighty fine shirt. You did a good job on it.”

  “Red Basket did most of the hard part,” she said. “But I’m glad you like it.”

  “If I’m lucky, maybe I can find enough game to help you through the winter.”

  “After you do that, then what will you do?” she asked.

  “Whaddaya mean?”

  “Are you going to stay with us, or are you planning to go to the fort and scout for the soldiers?”

  It was the same question that Red Basket kept asking him, and he had always tried to evade answering. He knew that Red Basket earnestly wanted him to stay in the village, and he still felt some obligation to take care of her.

  But he also felt the urge to be on the move, and scouting for
the army would at least provide him the opportunity to ride against the Lakota, the people who had killed his friend. This was the reason he recited for himself, for deep down he did not like to admit that he simply had the urge to wander and was not ready to settle down.

  When Little Wren asked the question, though, it somehow caused a different feeling. “Well,” he finally answered, “right now I’m plannin’ to come back here with some meat.”

  “And then what?” she asked again.

  Why is she pressing for an answer? he thought. He felt confused and unsure of himself. Gazing into her deep inquiring eyes, he was suddenly aware of the girl’s innocent beauty. Could she have any reason, beyond idle curiosity, to ask him his plans?

  “I don’t know,” he finally answered, and turned back to continue loading his saddlebags, “just see what’s what, I reckon.”

  “I think you are not sure what you want to do,” she said.

  “I reckon you got that right,” he blurted in honesty, and he was getting more and more confused by the moment. “Course I know it don’t make no difference to you whether I come back or not.”

  Certain now that he was unsure of his emotions, she said, “Maybe you don’t know as much as you think.” She turned then and walked away, leaving him to wonder.

  “I’ll be back,” he blurted after her. She did not turn to look at him, satisfied that he could not see the smile on her face.

  He knew he was naïve in many areas, simply because he had been forced into maturity with no role models or sage advisers. It was almost impossible for a man who had earned a warrior’s reputation, as he had, to be so naïve. And now he had these new thoughts to confuse his mind, and he knew that they were going to be troubling to deal with.

  “Damn,” he muttered as he watched her graceful body and her confident walk.

  Maybe in time, when she thought about it a little more, she would find someone who suited her more than he. The thought was verified when he stepped up into the saddle and saw Running Fox walking to intercept Little Wren. He gave the paint a little firmer kick than usual, telling himself that he needed to get away from this village where he could think clearly.

  * * *

  Once he left Lame Elk’s village, he urged the paint to lope for about a mile before reining him back to a fast walk. It felt good to be back in the saddle and to feel the fresh prairie wind in his face. His shoulder was well on the mend and he looked forward to the hunt.

  Half a day’s journey brought him to the creek where he had made the fatal decision to ride into the mountains. As he had before, he stopped beside it to rest his horses and to eat some of the pemmican Red Basket had packed in his war bag that hung on his saddle. He stood gazing along the course of the creek as it disappeared into the hills that led up to the mountains.

  He found he could not deny a curiosity to revisit the scene of his encounter with Slim Posey and Tom Leach—and Lola. What he had told Red Basket was true, he had seen signs of game back in that canyon, but there was bound to be as much in the other canyons in these mountains.

  There was no use in going back to a bad luck canyon, so when his horses were rested, he rode farther south along the eastern side of the mountain range until he came to the entrance to a narrow valley leading into the heart of the mountains. There was a strong stream that split the valley floor, so it looked to be a good place to begin a search for his campsite.

  Before the sun began to slide down toward the peaks of the high mountains, he had made his camp on the side of a lower hill beside a small stream that fed into a larger one that ran the length of the valley. It was a good choice, he decided, judging by the many tracks he discovered where the two streams joined. From his campsite, he could see the comings and goings of the animals when they came there for water. There was not a lot of grass for his horses, but enough to last for the few days he planned to spend there. If he had guessed right, and the fork below was a popular watering hole, he should have all the meat he could pack out of there in a few days.

  Two days passed without the luck he had expected. It appeared that the spot he picked had been frequented by mule deer as well as an elk or two, but evidently they had moved back up farther in the mountains. The weather was getting colder, but no real winter storms had moved in yet, so he wouldn’t ordinarily expect the animals to react that quickly. All he had to show for the two days wait was one mule deer he had killed with his bow.

  The problem that plagued him the most was the empty time, time that allowed troublesome thoughts to enter his mind. Primary among these were thoughts about the precocious Crow maiden, Little Wren, and what he was going to do about her—if anything.

  Sometimes he suspected that she might have an interest in him that was more than just a friend. But how could he tell? She had made a fine doeskin shirt for him, but she was very casual in the way she gave it to him, leaving it with Red Basket to pass on to him. Her air was always light and casual, it seemed. Maybe she thought of him like a brother, or a cousin. Even if she was more interested than that, she would most likely change her mind two or three times before she was actually mature enough to think about marriage.

  I know for sure I’m not ready to think about taking a wife, he thought.

  Wife. Just the sound of it terrified him. And in the Crow culture, when a man married, he moved into her tipi, and not the other way around. The thought of moving in with Broken Ax and Summer Rain until Little Wren built her own tipi did not appeal to him at all. If he married an Indian woman, he would have to choose—live like an Indian himself or leave her in her village when he rode off to scout for the army.

  Teddy and Red Basket worked it out all right, he told himself. But what if I get that wandering urge that comes over me from time to time? It would be his guess that Little Wren would not want to leave her people and follow him to explore every mountain range he had not seen before. It wouldn’t be fair for me to marry her.

  “Wah!” he exclaimed in frustration. “All this thinkin’ hurts my head!” He looked around him at his camp. The last of the one mule deer was smoking over the flames, ready to be wrapped and packed. His horses had grazed the little patch of grass down. It was time to move his camp. “To hell with it,” he suddenly decided. “I’m goin’ to Fort Ellis in the mornin’ to get my money.”

  In the saddle early the next morning, Slater struck the crossing at Sweet Grass Creek where he and Red Basket had camped on their way to find her village. He had only ridden five miles, too early to stop to rest the horses, so he continued on, figuring to stop for breakfast closer to the southern slopes of the Crazy Mountains.

  After a breakfast of deer meat and coffee, he was back in the saddle. After another stop to rest his horses later that day, he camped for the night beside a trickle of a stream south of the mountains. He would make it into Fort Ellis before sundown the next day.

  Chapter 11

  Leona Engels brushed a worrisome strand of gray hair from her forehead as she peeled the two small potatoes she was going to cut up to stew with the squirrels she was fixing for supper. Henry Weed was not much of a hunter. She had shot the squirrels herself with the small-gauge shotgun that Jace used to hunt with as a boy.

  She couldn’t help a derisive sniff when she recalled how Henry had so grandly presented the puny sack of potatoes to her after having been gone for two days. It was as if he were bringing her a precious gift to make up for his drinking spree. It made her sick to think of the food they could have bought with the small amount of gold dust he had squandered in some saloon in Helena.

  His two-day absence was not unusual. It happened almost every time he and his partner, Jim Holloway, had a lucky day at the claim they worked together. She could not help feeling sorry for Jim. He never complained about Henry’s binges. If she had done the right thing, she would have warned him not to accept Henry as a partner. But Jim had been swayed by Henry’s glib claims of his vast experienc
e and hardworking ethics when it came to mining for gold. It was Jim’s claim. He had filed on it but somehow Henry convinced him to work it as partners. She laughed bitterly when that caused her to recall how she had been convinced that Henry was going to take care of her.

  Her mind often went back to that ill-fated night in Daylight Gulch when her world went into a spin from which it had never recovered. And what now of Jace? She prayed for him every night, hoping that he had found a decent life somewhere. He had been right in his low opinion of Henry Weed, but she had no choice at the time. She was forced to trust Henry to take care of her as he promised.

  It didn’t take long, after they had left for Last Chance Gulch in Helena, for Henry’s cruel colors to emerge. She had often thought about running away, but she had no place to go. And she was afraid, for he had threatened her, promising her what would happen if she ever tried to leave him. How could her life have gone so wrong? How could she have been so foolish as a young woman to have believed in a man like John Engels?

  Noticing that it was beginning to get dark in the rough shack that was now her home, she paused to light the lantern on the table, the one piece of furniture in the shack. Darkness found this gulch buried deep in the mountains early in the afternoon. It was the part of the day she hated the most, for it meant that Henry and Jim would soon quit for the day. She walked to the door and looked down at the creek below, expecting to see the men making their way up to the cabin. They were still working away at the sluice box, however. They never worked this late unless they had unearthed a rich streak of color. She could only hope. Maybe it would be an upgrade in her life, if Henry had some real money. He had promised to take care of her, and his word was all she had to count on.

  Finally, when it became too dark to see in the gulch, she went to the door again to see what was delaying them. They were coming up on the ledge to the cabin, and she could hear them talking excitedly as they climbed the layers of rock that served as steps.