So Wild a Dream

by Win Blevins

  An hour later Sam couldn’t tell whether he’d seen a buffalo or mistaken these two scrubby trees for one. They stood behind each other on the rim of the sandstone in the right shape, if you stood at a certain angle. Maybe his hope shaped his eyesight. At night he was dreaming about food, sumptuous banquets of beef, chicken, ham, turkey, potatoes, garden vegetables, cheeses, bread, and butter, all spread out on a table before him. Not even buffalo and elk, which he preferred.

  From above Sam studied the earth of the plain. There were lots of buffalo pies and would be lots of hoofprints—this was buffalo country. But he feared he wouldn’t find any that looked fresh. He spoke to Coy. “Want to go a little further? Or turn around and catch up? A little further, and maybe…”

  A shot roared. The mare crow-hopped sideways, and Sam nearly lost his seat. Coy arched his back and bristled. Godamighty. Shots—Indians!

  Time to cache.

  The mare crow-hopped again, and this time came to a stop teetering on the rim. “Idjit,” he spat at her. She gave a whicker of protest.

  Damned animal. Sam wheeled her and let the critter pussy-foot down the outcropping, muttering curses at her slowness. This mare was no favorite of Sam’s. He wanted a horse that felt like a partner, the way Coy did. Gideon told him, though, “Don’t ever get attached to any horse, because that’s ze one ze Indians will run off.”

  Sam kicked her to a gallop and scurried down into a brushy draw. Whew. Now he was cached. Unless they saw him, he could sit this one out right here.

  An hour later Sam rode out of the draw on the south and started a wide circle to the west. Damn, I can never believe trouble is really trouble. “Coy, it has to be a buffalo—what else would anyone shoot at out here?”

  He put some words into the coyote pup’s mouth. “What if it’s a brigade member who’s followed to help us hunt?”

  Sam answered, “What if it’s a lone Indian I could take? Buffalo meat’s worth a risk, isn’t it?”

  He wanted to get a look into the next valley to the west, where the shot sounded like it came from. He made his way up another draw. At the last of the scrawny cedars, a hundred yards short of the lip of the hill, he tied his mount and walked on with Coy. The little coyote walked quieter than Sam anyway. He crawled to the summit and looked out from behind a rock.

  A fine sight! A cow lay crumpled in the middle of the little valley—

  Sam’s hair crinkled and his toenails curled backward.

  No one was gutting her out. Which meant…

  He jumped up and sprinted for his mare.

  Just before he got to the cedars—

  “Hi-ya-ya, hi-ya-ya!” Out of the draw came the cry and the Indian.

  Sam cursed out loud. The bastard was on Sam’s mare.

  I’m gonna be stuck on foot a long way out.

  Stuck, hell, once I’m on foot, these Indians will kill me.

  He dropped to sitting, propped his father’s rifle on one knee, and steadied. The riding figure bobbed up and down in front of Sam’s sight. I’ll shoot the damn mare, he thought with satisfaction. He held on the mare’s big hindquarters and fired.

  The Indian pitched to the ground roaring. The mare skittered off. Why doesn’t she act hurt?

  Sam drew his pistol and ran forward.

  The man scurried on hands and knees for his bow.

  Sam caught up and held his pistol two-handed, straight at the bastard’s face. The fellow was young, younger even than Sam’s nineteen.

  From hands and knees the Indian threw a sneer of hatred at him and lunged forward with a knife.

  Coy skittered away, barking.

  Sam shot the Indian in the thigh.

  First he reloaded the rifle, which he called The Celt, as fast as he could. This Indian had no rifle. Which meant he had a partner close by, the shooter. Sam looked around carefully.

  Coy snapped and snapped, keeping the Indian busy. The Indian swiped at Coy with the knife. Sam jumped forward and clubbed the man with the butt of his pistol. He sagged to the ground.

  Sam breathed relief, and dragged him into the cedars. Where’s your damn partner?

  As the Indian regained consciousness, Sam checked him over. Pawnee, from the moccasins. Then he saw the blood on back of one leg. Hell, I shot you in the butt. He grinned.

  Sound of hoofs. Along the ridge of the hill, in the distance, a rider.

  Sam’s mare was standing in the open twenty yards away, grazing.

  Coy ran at the mare and herded her back to the cedars. Sam reloaded the pistol.

  The wounded man looked daggers at Sam again.

  Sam signed to him, ‘I come in friendship. I do not want to hurt you or your friend. I do not want your buffalo.’ Not that Sam had a chance at the meat with Pawnees around. ‘Signal your friend to get off his horse and I won’t shoot you or him.’

  The rider had stopped on top of the hill. Certainly he had seen the saddled mare. The rider had the high ground, but Sam had the cover.

  ‘Signal him to come closer,’ Sam signed.

  The Indian spat at Sam.

  Sam leapt on him and pricked the bastard’s throat with the tip of his butcher knife. “Now,” he shouted in English, though the Pawnee couldn’t understand him.

  Sam backed away, knife held forward, and signed awkwardly, ‘Tell him what I said now!’

  The Indian spat at him. Coy bit the Indian on the forearm, and the man howled. He tried to get to his knees.

  From six feet Sam lifted his pistol and shot the man’s ear off.

  The Indian screamed.

  The rider galloped down the hill.

  Sam jumped behind his hostage, lifted him, and catapulted him into a low cedar branch. The man crumpled across the branch.

  The rider charged.

  Sam lifted The Celt and shot the pony out from under him.

  The rider hurtled across the bunch grass, tumbling over and over.

  Sam reloaded The Celt.

  The rider didn’t move.

  Sam reloaded the pistol.

  The rider got to his feet woozily.

  Sam walked into the clear. Coy growled and kept the wounded Indian in the tree.

  The rider sank to one knee.

  Sam yelled, “Hau!” Most Indians would understand the greeting.

  The rider looked at him dizzily.

  Sam signed, ‘I do not want to kill you or your friend. Come closer.’

  The rider sank into the grass.

  Sam wondered how many Pawnees were around. If the young men had come out hunting, there could be two or a dozen.

  He didn’t intend to wait around to find out. He stepped into the cedars and took the mare’s reins. “At least you don’t run off,” he said to her. He was half tempted to take an Indian pony instead.

  Leading the mare, he walked toward the rider. Behind, he could hear Coy growling at the draped man. Sam picked up the dizzy one’s rifle, an old fusil. “Spoils of war,” he said with a grin.

  He swung up on the mare and clucked at Coy. “Let’s go. It’s a hell of a ride to camp.”

  Buy Beauty for Ashes now!

  Afterword

  This novel is the first of the RENDEZVOUS SERIES, which tells the story of the fur trade of the American West from its optimistic beginning in the early 1820s to its fading in the late 1830s, when westward immigration began. Here and throughout the series I mix well-known personages of history with fictional characters. Sam Morgan, his family, and his friends outside the mountain man world—Grumble, Abby, Captain Stuart, and so on—are fictional representatives of certain kinds of Americans of the time.

  From St. Louis west, historical characters dominate, and they are drawn seriously and I believe accurately. William Clark, Pierre Chouteau, William Ashley, Jedediah Smith, Edward Rose, Tom Fitzpatrick, James Clyman, and the many others are characterized on the basis of the records of the time. Though their dialogue is necessarily invented, no substantial event involving historical characters is imaginary.

  In the adventur
es of the mountain men in this first book, for instance, every major situation and incident is taken from accounts of the men who were there: The Ashley men had just the conflict with the Rees described here; Jedediah Smith and his men, led by Edward Rose, did indeed pioneer a fur-trading route to Crow country and spend the winter with the Crows; in the spring they crossed South Pass and discovered a beaver paradise. Even many minor incidents of this novel can be found in the journals and other nineteenth-century accounts of the mountain men. For instance, Jim Clyman ran from the Rees in the way I’ve pictured it, Jedediah had his horrific encounter with that grizzly bear, his brigade nearly froze and starved on South Pass, and so on.

  All the mountain men except Sam, his friend Gideon, and Micajah are the men named in Clyman’s journal, Ashley’s letters, or other contemporary accounts.

  Likewise, the America of this novel is intended to be historically accurate. I’ve taken pains to draw Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, St. Louis, the valleys of the great rivers, and the forests, plains, and mountains just as they were. My accounts of the Shawnees and the Crow people are also based on extensive research.

  My purpose in writing the series is not only to create a tale full of adventure, struggle, passion, and other ingredients of a good story, but to lay out carefully and faithfully the history of the mountain men and their astonishing deeds. Like my predecessors, I will try to show their amazing courage, skill, and hardiness, and their devotion to freedom on the most radical of terms; I will also look carefully at their relations with the Native peoples of the West, a model the rest of the country might have learned from, but tragically did not.

  Though readers are welcome to agree or disagree with my interpretations, they should know that these stories are based on facts as I am acquainted with them, and not invented.

  I hurry to add that facts are only the dry kindling of good history, or good historical fiction. My hope is to use these facts to see deeply into the mountain men and so open their hearts, minds, and spirits to the reader.

  Trapper Talk

  A Glossary of Terms Associated with the Mountain Men

  AGUARDIENTE Liquor, especially Taos lightning, a fiery booze from Taos. Also spelled “awerdenty” and the like. See also FIREWATER.

  APISHEMORE A saddle blanket, especially one of soft buffalo-calf skin.

  APPOLA A way of broiling meat on a stick in the flame, like shish kabob. Also the stick itself.

  ASTORIAN A fur man associated with the fur-trading post at the mouth of the Columbia River, Astoria; a member of that party, sent out by John Jacob Astor’s Pacific Fur Company in 1810 (by sea) or 1811 (by land). Though ambitious as a financial enterprise and an affirmation of American sovereignty, it was short-lived as an American post.

  AUX ALIMENTS DU PAYS The expression of a fur trader or trapper meaning “to live off the land”; literally, from the food of the land.

  BABICHE A thong of skin, often woven into mesh for snowshoes. French-Canadian.

  BEADWORK Decoration made by Indian women with trade beads, usually for clothing. Mountain men commonly wore beadwork because their women wanted them to go to rendezvous in style.

  BEAVER Aside from the semiaquatic rodent that was the object of the trapper’s great search and his potential bonanza, this was a word for the felt hat that was made from the underfur of the critter. It was also commonly a term a mountain man used for himself and his partner (see CHILD). More: Beaver was a word for money, because beaver pelts were a universally accepted medium of exchange. “Whose beaver you earnin’?” was asking, “Who’s your employer?”

  The treasure the mountain men brought back to the settlements was the beaver’s underfur, which made excellent felt for hats. They also valued the poor fellow for his tail, a delicacy when boiled. All this desirability might have been the critter’s undoing, some people say, except that in the 1830s beaver hats whimsically went out of fashion, and silk came marching in.

  BLACK YOUR FACE AGAINST (someone) To go to war against someone. From the custom of many Plains Indians of wearing black face paint for fighting.

  BOSS The hump on the back of a buffalo’s neck, eaten roasted, and much favored.

  BOSSLOPER An independent fur trader (from Dutch). For the various ranks of mountain men, see FREE TRAPPER.

  BOUDINS A food delicacy, buffalo intestine turned inside out, stuffed with chopped tenderloin, roasted on a stick and then boiled (from French).

  BOURGEOIS The head of a fur-trading party, with an implication of class superiority (French-Canadian). For the various ranks of mountain men, see FREE TRAPPER.

  BUENAVENTURA A mythical river of the interior West, at first believed to run west from the Rockies into San Francisco Bay, therefore a potential route to the Pacific and so much sought.

  BUFFALO-WITTED Dull, stupid. The mountain men regarded the buffalo as dim of brain.

  BUG’S BOYS The trappers’ familiar name for the Blackfeet, their particular enemies.

  BULL BOAT A craft fashioned of buffalo hides stretched on a willow frame. Trappers liked this boat because it could be jerry-built almost anywhere in beaver country and had almost no draft.

  BULL THROWER An occasional bragging word of a mountain man for his rifle, a killer of buffalo bulls.

  CACHE To store your belongings in a hiding place, especially in a large hole dug for the purpose, then concealed by replacement of the sod. Trapping brigades often cached furs for later recovery. Also the hiding place itself. (From French.)

  CAPOTE The usual winter coat of the fur men, made from a blanket and hooded. Also called a blanket coat.

  CARCAJOU A word for the wolverine (French-Canadian). Among Canadian fur men and many Western Indians, the wolverine was legendary for its ferocity.

  CASTOR Castoreum, an excretion of the beaver’s perineal glands, the main ingredient (after drying and mixing with alcohol and herbs) of the bait for a beaver trap. Also called MEDICINE. Carried in a stoppered horn on a shoulder strap.

  CHIEF’S COAT A military-style coat for giving or trading to Indian leaders.

  CHILD The common way a mountain man referred to himself and his companion: “This child,” he would say, meaning himself, “is fixin’ to ride.” Or the mountain man might say, “That child is some,” a way of expressing admiration. The trapper used other terms the same way—hoss, coon, beaver, and nigger (a word without racial implications in this case).

  COME To die. To make ’em come means to kill them. An expression of the mountain man applied equally to beaver, Indians, and other critters—“This child made ’em come.”

  CONGÉ A license or licensee for fur-trading under the French.

  COMPAÑERO Companion, buddy.

  COUNT COUP Though among Plains Indians it meant to recite one’s deeds formally, among mountain men it simply meant to whip them, or kill them.

  COUNTRY WIFE An Indian woman married, according to the custom of the country, to an Anglo fur man. Many traders, especially, had both city families and country families—sometimes a family in each of several different tribes.

  COUREUR DE BOIS A French-Canadian fur trader who operated independently. Though the big companies proceeded legally, coureurs de bois ignored the regulations, roamed the wilds in small groups, and sought the furs. In many ways, sojourning among the red men, they became as much red as white.

  DAMP POWDER AND NO WAY TO DRY IT An expression for a bad fix. The reference is to gunpowder.

  DEPOUILLE A thick layer of fat on the back of the buffalo, valued by Indians and mountain men as food.

  DOINGS trapper talk for activities, events, and so on.

  DRY Thirst, sometimes for booze. “Hosses, this child’s got to wet his dry.”

  DUPONT Gunpowder, from the name of the manufacturer. See also GALENA. The powder of the time was black, made from saltpeter, charcoal, and sulfur, then caked and tolled into grains—fine for pistols, more coarse for rifles.

  ENGAGÉ A French-Canadian canoe man who paddled wilderness streams to conduct the fur trade; a
trapper hired for wages. For the various ranks of mountain man, see FREE TRAPPER.

  FIREWATER Booze. It was often pure alcohol cut with the water of the closest creek and seasoned with tobacco, red chiles, and whatever else pleased the fancy of the trader, according to report even snake heads. The term came from a custom developed by Indians trading with the Canadian fur men. Since the alcohol was customarily diluted, the Indians would spit the first mouthful of booze on the fire. If it flamed, they’d trade for it; if it put some of the fire out, they wouldn’t.

  FIXINGS Among fur men, POSSIBLES (essential personal gear), camp gear, or material needed to make something.

  FLOAT STICK A stick the beaver trapper attached to his trap. If the beaver swam away with the trap, the stick showed where it was. This stick was the source of one of the best-known expressions of the mountain man, “He don’t KNOW WHAT WAY THE STICK FLOATS.”

  FOOFURAW Trinkets, gaudy clothing, and similar show-offy stuff. What you have to give a girl you’re courting, or a wife you want to keep happy.

  FOOL HEN A common name for the sage grouse. The bird sits so still (for whatever reason) men can get close enough to fell it with a stick, stone, or whip.

  FORT UP To barricade yourself; to take a position defensible against attack, especially Indian attack. Mountain men sometimes killed their horses and forted up behind the carcasses.

  FOUR DIRECTIONS A sacred symbol of most Plains Indians, and thus of the mountain men who followed their ways. To east, south, west, and north were sometimes added sky and earth, making six directions.

  FREE TRAPPER A beaver man who trapped on his own instead of working for one of the fur companies. He was usually a fellow, whether French-Canadian or American, who had begun in the trade as an employee, acquired his skills, and gone independent. Some still had to get outfitted by the big companies and so were obliged to sell their PLEWS (beaver skins) to their creditors; others were completely free. Their opposite number was the ENGAGÉ (hireling). For the various ranks of mountain men see BOSSLOPER, BOURGEOIS, COUREUR DE BOIS, ENGAGÉ, HIVERNANT, MANGEUR DE LARD, PARTISAN, PATRON, and VOYAGEUR.