The Adventures Of The Brothers Dent (The Mountain Men Book 3)

by Terry Grosz

  Gabe found himself roaring with laughter over his brother’s embarrassing antics. Then the Crow camp came alive over the noisy “hoorah” between Josh and Cone Flower. Streaming from their tepees, they witnessed the giant Mountain Man, half-covered with mud, reach down and gently pick up Cone Flower from the muddy ground. Great howls of laughter now arose from the Crow camp. In the meantime, Gabe could see his brother’s scarlet red face clear over to where he sat on his horse some thirty yards distant.

  Trotting his horse over to the Mountain Man-Crow Indian maiden’s wreck, Gabe continued howling with laughter at his brother’s embarrassing and painful plight. Cone Flower, covered with mud and embarrassed over what the clumsy Mountain Man had just done to her in front of her tribal members, grabbed her empty kettle and stomped back to the spring for more water. Josh, not sure what to do but knowing he had screwed up, took off hobbling on his bad foot after Cone Flower to rectify the situation. Just as he got to her side to help her with the once- again-filled heavy kettle, he stepped into another large, unseen patch of prickly pear cactus with his good foot. As the many cactus needles pierced the thin sides of his moccasin and into his foot, he jumped high up into the air in abject pain. Kind of like a bug on a hot rock, as his Crow Indian friend Buffalo Calf was wont to say.

  “Yeooow!” yelled Josh as he hurriedly sat down in pain in a puff of dust, grabbing the cactus needle-filled foot. Only this time, Josh dropped his bottom smack dab onto another prickly pear cactus just waiting for such a trespasser! “Yeooow!” he yelled once again, this time loud enough so God and everybody in the fort could hear! By now, the whole Crow Indian encampment was laughing at the crazy white man dancing around like he had just stepped into a yellow jackets’ nest! The scene only got more comical when Josh grabbed his sore hind end and got a handful of needles from the cactus pad still sticking there for his efforts in “attacking” the cactus patch...

  As if trying to maintain what little dignity she had left, a muddy Cone Flower walked by carrying the kettle full of water from the spring once again. She found Gabe pulling the cactus needles out of Josh’s hind end in an unflattering sort of way... She started to laugh at the happenings with Josh just as her sister arrived to help her carry the heavy kettle. Together, both women had a long laugh at Josh’s painful expense as they walked back to their camp. That was all it took to make Josh turn as red as a whole chokecherry bush in full late summer cherry bloom over his plight. By then, their Crow Indian friend Buffalo Calf had arrived at the “wreck.” Together both he and Gabe laughed when more cactus needles were pulled from Josh’s rump and feet as he continued howling loudly in pain. Later that evening, Josh whimpered even more when Gabe applied bear grease to the cactus needle-damaged areas, chiefly that area belonging to Josh’s last part over the fence...

  The next day, Gabe and a sore-footed and inflamed hind- ended Josh traded in their furs. Then they went to Lisa and took back part of their credit from his books earned from previous years in their Blackfoot horse sales in order to trade for more much-needed supplies. When they did, they were careful to leave a large portion of the credit still on the books in case Griz and Big-Eye came back to the fort to trade on the off chance they had not done so well trapping and were in need of new supplies as well. Then it was off to trade for what they needed which included two additional packhorses from a herd trailed up by Lisa on his recent return trip to the fort. Finally, the usual supplies were once again procured at Lisa’s higher-than-normal prices.

  Josh said, “Gabe, if this keeps up, we may find ourselves heading to St. Louis to trade in our furs one of these years. I don’t mind paying a certain price for what we need, but we are paying ten to twenty times the price for what those same goods would cost us if we were to purchase them back home in St. Louis.”

  “I agree,” said Gabe, as he looked over an item that he knew cost only one dollar in St. Louis but now being sold by Lisa to the trappers and Indians for twelve!

  Then Josh did something that caught Gabe clear off base. Walking over to some women’s clothing hanging on wall pegs, Josh picked out a bright red dress with a blue fringe along the bottom of the hemline. Holding it up for Gabe to see, he said, “What do you think? Do you think it will fit Cone Flower?” Surprised by the object of his brother’s purchase, Gabe just looked at Josh and said, “You know the color red is very meaningful to the Crow. In case you have forgotten, it means you hope she ‘Walks the Red Road,’ which is a good omen to many of the plains Indians. It will also say something as to how you feel about her.”

  “I haven’t forgotten, Brother. Do you think she will like it? Especially since I got her fancy bighorn sheep dress all muddy when I tried to help her with the kettle of water,” said Josh with a bit of an embarrassed grin.

  “I think she will be thrilled with your pick,” said Gabe, “but you might be playing with fire in giving that to her. She and her father may think you are sweet on her and all.”

  “Gabe, I am sweet on her and if she would have me, I would like to take her for my wife,” said Josh with a most serious look on his face, hoping his brother would understand.

  “Well, I am glad to hear you say that,” said Gabe, as he fingered a beautiful deep-blue dress with a delicate white fringe on the hemline from the same rack of dresses, “Because I intend to give this one to Little Fawn if she will take it,” said Gabe with an equally serious look on his hugely bewhiskered face.

  “I say, Brother, you never cease to amaze me,” said Josh, as he thumped Gabe on his back in a clumsy yet congratulatory sort of way. “I knew you were sweet on her from the first time you laid eyes on her. But are you looking to take her as your wife, if she will have you?” Josh asked with a big grin on his face.

  “Well, I ain’t getting any younger. And after being so easily captured by the damn Blackfeet some time back, realized our lives out here on the frontier can be cut awfully short if the right circumstances or point of an arrow comes one’s way,” said Gabe thoughtfully. “I aim to talk to Buffalo Calf and see what I would have to do in order to court her and not offend her father or their culture,” he continued.

  “I think we both need to go back to Lisa, take out some more credit and use it to procure two more good-looking saddle horses. I hear a horse offered for a squaw is a good way to get her father’s blessing,” said a now more-than-serious Josh. That afternoon, the brothers added two more fine-looking sorrels from Lisa’s herd to their pool of livestock. At great expense of course...

  ***

  That evening, twenty more trappers came in from the field looking for a dinner of roasted oxen, some tin cups loaded with Lisa’s fiery trapper’s whiskey commonly called “Old Top-Knot Remover” by the trappers, and a place to trade in their buffalo hides and beaver plews. As was usual in those days, the local Indians were always the first to know of an important event’s occurrence, and the arrival of Lisa back at his fort was an occurrence of unusual proportions. From there, the word had traveled fast, hence the arrival of bunches of trappers and Indians from the various friendly tribes almost on a daily basis. As they did, Josh and Gabe had a chance to get reacquainted with old friends, see who had wintered well, and see which of the trappers’ contingent were now part of the soil like their friends Elliott One-Shot Sutta and Al Johnson. They also searched the new faces as they arrived to see if any resembled members of the Jenkins clan. Seeing no one matching those who they were still looking for, many casual questions were asked of the trappers as to their whereabouts. Several of the trappers knew of Bill Jenkins and his clan, but all reported they had gone over to the side of the British and Blackfeet during the 1812 dustup between the Crown and the United States. Other than that, the Jenkins clan had once again gone to ground and the brothers’ killing quest would just have to wait once again...

  As for Griz, Big-Eye and Flower, they did not show during the three-week trapper festival being held at Fort Raymond. It became obvious they truly had left the home territory of the Blackfeet and headed south
into the lands of the Snake Indians who were more ready to accept the hordes of white men overrunning their ancestral hunting and trapping grounds and less likely to “poke” a hole in them when their paths crossed.

  ***

  When the brothers felt the time was right, they approached Buffalo Calf and asked him for his thoughts regarding their wanting to marry his sisters. For a moment, Buffalo Calf stared back at the Mountain Men and then, with a genuine smile, said he would be proud to have them as his brothers. Buffalo Calf advised those were his father’s only girls and that his dad was pretty attached to them. Buffalo Calf figured his father would also be honored to have two successful Mountain Men with such good reputations as trappers take his daughters as their wives. But he cautioned, it would take time according to Crow tribal custom for all of them together going through tribal courting rituals to formally get acquainted before any marriages could take place. Buffalo Calf figured if the Mountain Men were to move in with the tribe and get acquainted with his parents, they would have a better chance in being allowed to take his sisters for their wives. He mentioned that several of his friends were also interested in his sisters as wives as well. So, the trappers had better hurry if they wanted a fair chance at winning over their hearts before someone else did. Buffalo Calf’s last words made both men realize they had better carefully consider what he had said. Afterward, both men were now very grateful they had purchased the brightly colored dresses...

  The last summer trading day with the full contingent of trappers and friendly Indians was finally at hand. In anticipation of the event, Lisa had killed four oxen for roasting. Then he rolled out several large kegs of whiskey and had his traders cook up other rice, fruit, and cornmeal dishes for the celebration. Soon the event was in full swing as the whiskey flowed, and many shooting contests, foot races, squaw swapping, and tomahawk- throwing events were taking place. Sometimes, the events fueled with too much whiskey got out of hand and knives flashed between the competing trappers. But generally, everyone lived to risk his carcass and to trap another day.

  In one shooting contest in which Buffalo Calf had entered, he soon had outshot every white and Indian trapper in the place. He won many of the beaver plews wagered in the offing. One trapper named John Gantt managed to finally best Buffalo Calf and when offered his prize of Buffalo Calf’s beaver plews, turned them down cold.

  Turning, he pointed to Cone Flower and Little Fawn watching from the edge of the crowd, knowing they were Buffalo Calf’s sisters. Then in a loud, whiskey-soaked voice said, “Put them squaws up as the prize and we will shoot again. My stack of plews just won against them two women,” he bellowed loudly for the benefit of the gathered crowd and support from the rest of the trappers.

  Buffalo Calf just grinned, realizing the whiskey was talking, and said, “That was not the prize. The large stack of beaver plews was the prize and you have won them fair and square.”

  “The women, damn you, or else,” shouted Gantt, waving his rifle high in the air as if to garner more support from the surrounding trappers looking on.

  Turning from the budding confrontation, Buffalo Calf, realizing nothing was to be gained arguing with a drunk, started to walk away. “Don’t turn your back on me, you damned savage. It is the women I want, not your damn beaver plews, and I aim to have them,” said Gantt getting even louder and more belligerent.

  By now, a crowd of trappers and Indians began to gather in tighter to the confrontation in the hope of seeing a good fight. Then, several trappers from Gantt’s own trapping contingent chimed in, saying, “Give him the squaws. Them is jest damn Indians, anyways. Spoilin’ them won’t make no difference.”

  With that, Buffalo Calf turned, and not wanting to add fuel to the fire, calmly said, “The women are my sisters and not prizes. Take your plews here today because that is what you won, and no matter what you want, my sisters are not to be considered prizes.”

  “Well, damn you, I will jest take what is mine and bed them now for sure,” said Gantt, getting uglier by the moment as he menacingly moved towards the two sisters.

  Buffalo Calf turned once again to walk away and let Gantt sleep it off when he was stopped by three of Gantt’s equally drunk partners, nasty dispositions and all. “Hold it right there, you damn Indian,” said one man named Peter Ranne. “Either give him the squaws or else,” said Ranne with a serious-looking and deadly meant-for-business sneer!

  Buffalo Calf whirled and in an instant had his knife at Ranne’s throat. “Back off or you will cool out like an elk hit with a ball in the head,” he smiled meaningfully...

  Gantt, seeing his trapper buddy now confronted in a no-win situation, raised his rifle to put an end to Buffalo Calf, only to have it violently knocked from his hands by a close-at-hand Mountain Man standing six-and-a-half feet tall and built like the ox they had been recently feasting on.

  “Gantt, you had best cool off or both you and your partners are never going to set another beaver trap in this here world.” said Gabe menacingly.

  “Says you and who else?” said James Kipp, another of Gantt’s partners, as he swung the business end of his rifle menacingly towards Gabe.

  Wham! went a fist with the weight and force of a blacksmith’s anvil alongside Kipp’s head, knocking him ten feet clear across the stacks of beaver plews to be used as a prize and out like a light. “Try me on for size,” said Josh as he glowered at the remaining trappers who were now on Gantt’s side.

  “Now hold it right there,” said Lisa as he ran up to the gathering crowd. “What the blue blazes brought this dust-up on?” he demanded.

  Buffalo Calf, still holding his knife at Ranne’s throat, said, “We had a shooting contest for a pack of plews. Gantt here won but won’t take the plews. Now he wants my two sisters for the prize instead. And he will die before that happens.”

  Lisa, realizing there were more Indians in camp than trappers and if they were riled a bloodbath would follow plus a loss of business, held up his hand in finality saying, “This here shooting contest is over. Gantt is the winner and will take his furs as his prize. Now Gantt, I will give you double in trade for those furs, but no women and that is that. Now, Boys, the drinks are on me and the food is ready. However, if there is any more trouble, I will ask the troublemakers to leave the fort and not come back whether or not they have traded in their furs and got their supplies. Is that clear to everyone?”

  There was some grumbling by members of Gantt’s party, but confronted with a determined Buffalo Calf and backed up by two of the largest and could-be-meanest trappers in the country, not to mention the fort’s owner, the piss went out of the rest of those trappers’ vinegar... Shortly thereafter, with a little grumbling, the party went on and Lisa, good to his word, brought out another keg of free whiskey to smooth out all the ruffled feathers and help lay down the riled tempers. Later, Gabe and Josh were sitting alongside Buffalo Calf with the rest of the crowd eating supper when all of a sudden, both trappers were personally served food and drink by two very pretty Crow women and sisters of Buffalo Calf...

  The next day when the Crow contingent of Indians left Fort Raymond, they were trailed by Josh and Gabe’s pack string as well. The brothers had decided they would accompany the Crows to their wintering grounds and live among the tribal members. Once there, they would build a cabin close by and trap the promising beaver water around that location in conjunction with their new Crow brothers.

  The contingent of Crow and the two trappers traveled north towards the current-day Town of Mosby, Montana, finally posting their winter camp on the northern reaches of the Musselshell, near the Box Elder River. Locating in a small valley near several wooded ranges where the grass was plentiful for the Crow’s horse herd, the tribe finally stopped and set up their winter camp.

  Josh and Gabe located a small creek coming from a heavily wooded area a short distance from the Crow’s winter camp. There they began work on their winter cabin. Cutting and dragging nearby pine logs, the men soon had the walls of the cabi
n up and chinked. In the process, they made sure the cabin’s dimensions were adequate enough inside to accommodate two wives... Then roof stringers were added to the ridgepole and soon an earthen roof was in place. Not waiting for the windows and door, the brothers moved in all their gear and supplies to preclude their perishables and foodstuffs from getting wet or snipped off by the many and ever-present black and grizzly bears.

  Soon, Josh had built their sleeping platforms, chairs and table, while Gabe cut out the windows, and framed and hung the door. With the addition of tanned deerskins for windows to let in soft light but keep out the storms, the men commenced building a mud, stone, and stick fireplace with chimney on the north or windward side of the cabin, allowing for a better draw. With the cabin finished, the men set about hauling in a winter wood supply, built an outdoor cooking area and finished an adjacent lean-to. The next thing built was a hell-for-stout horse corral along with meat smoking and drying racks.

  The men finished just in time as the entire Crow encampment decided to move on a nearby buffalo herd and make meat. Come the day of the hunt, the brothers had made three travois, cast a small mountain of bullets, filled powder horns from their stocks, sharpened knives—wire-like buffalo hair is notorious for dulling the edges of knives—and checked the four rifles they planned on taking.

  Then among much laughter, dust from horse herds dragging many travois, barking camp dogs, and talking people, they struck out towards Sand Springs to the east. Arriving, camp was made at the springs and small parties of men sallied forth to locate herds of close-at-hand buffalo. Soon a large herd was located suitable for a running hunt and the chiefs set out the hunting parties. It wasn’t long before a thundering herd of buffalo were set upon by a three-pronged attack and the killing began. In the process, three horses and two braves were killed by the stampeding and fear-crazed buffalo during the hunt. Nothing was left to bury after those killed fell beneath the stampeding herd and were ground into fine, sticky red mud... Soon the shortgrass prairie was littered with dark, shaggy beasts and the party began. Hordes of women and children, along with the hunters, descended on the lifeless forms. There they opened up the sides of the beasts and ate raw livers until that “hunger” was satisfied. Then the real work of skinning and deboning out the rich meat began.