The Stormy Mountains

by Nick Storming

  Colt called a halt and had the wagons all pull in close. The temperature was dropping quickly, and the snow was beginning to stick. He ordered that two empty wagons have their canvas stripped and brought to him in the center of the wagon circle. He took Seamus and his father around to all the wagons and had them tie ends of the canvas to the outside of their wagons. Then he took Helen and Molly aside with strips of rawhide and showed them what he wanted. Finally, he had a couple of the Stevens men, all staring at him in similar ways to the women, pull apart a barrel and construct a tall pole and hoop from it.

  The snow was coming down in flurries when Colt’s plan came together, and all began to realize what he was after. Soon every hand was pitching in and a great canvas roof was raised above the wagon train, with a round opening in the center directly above a big cook fire. There was a large space now free of falling snow and blocked from the worst of the wind, within the wagon circle and the mood lightened as people began to layout clothes to dry and pull out biscuits and stew, preparing an early meal.

  Colt built a large fire in the center of the open area and many of the women brought their pots of stew over to heat them up. I sat back and watched each approach nervously before Colt's pale blue eyes caught theirs and drew them in like magnets. His smile relaxing their shoulders and put a bit of red in their cheeks.

  Mary and Goldie slipped into the space, the girls shivering but dragging a small deer over their shoulders, and Henry in the rear helping them carry it. Happy murmurs sounded from around the wagon circle as people saw the meat arrive. This was the biggest prize that the hunters had brought in and the prospect of days’ worth of meat, to help stretch stews and meals, made everyone happy.

  Colt stripped off his jacket and shirt and drew forth his skinning knife. He called to several of the women he had just been talking to. They brought over wrapping paper and storage containers as he began carving up the deer. He gave each group equal portions, the women thanking him gratefully. He took the final large portion and cut it into several dozen small steaks and began to spike them over the fire. He had taken his shirt off to carve up the deer, and now his chest and arms ran with seat in the fire's heat. He looked like a muscled god and I felt a warmth in my nethers that had nothing to do with the warming air inside our improvised tent.

  I glanced around and saw a ring of shining faces, all of the women from the wagon train were staring at my boy as he carved up the meat, his muscles shining and rippling in the firelight. The whole Stephens clan watching him work and I was hard-pressed to find a single member of that group who didn't show undisguised lust. Molly sat near me and had a blanket she was knitting across her lap. I noticed both hands buried in her skirts and realized with a start that she was playing with her pussy, uncaring of who might notice the motions beneath the blanket. Looking around I saw there was little chance that anyone other than Albert would notice her. The man watched his wife’s shining eyes and bit his bottom lip, overjoyed to see his wife under the spell of his Alpha.

  Molly wasn’t the only woman who had begun to touch herself. Colt was having a wicked effect on most. I saw the two other husbands not in the Stephens clans glancing from their wives, both plain but pleasantly plump and busty women, to Colt. I watched the men’s eyes closely and saw not the jealousy and anger I had been worried to find, but quiet hope. One of the men, a portly fellow with a bristling mustache had reached a hand under his wife’s skirts, the motions mostly hidden by the blanket covering them. His hand worked to pleasure the plump pretty older woman, her cheeks flush and lips parted as she stared at my stepson with a look of awe and hopeless desire. The two women had expressions like they were stealing something, getting away with more than they had dreamed possible, and desperately devouring every second of it.

  The atmosphere was charged, and I saw the barest edges of discomfort creeping in as all realized they were having the same thoughts at the same time. Then a pop drew all eyes to me, as I uncorked the bottle of rye whiskey I'd pulled from our stores, for just this moment, and took a long hard pull. The liquid burned its way down my throat and left a warm glow in my stomach. Smiling I passed it to Annabelle and watched carefully as the girl took a coughing sip. Her eyes widened at her first sip of whiskey and several of the others laughed. She passed it to Helen and the tall pretty woman took a long hard pull from the bottle, smacking her lips before passing it down.

  The fire and whiskey warmed us, relaxing both muscles and inhibitions. Colt worked, cooking the meat and cleaning his weapons, the guns all taken apart and laid out on oilcloth. While we all watched him in appreciation. The first low guttural moan, nearly too faint to hear came from one of the Stephens girls. None dared to look at her, all knew what must be happening. Each was lost in their own fantasy, as slowly the rigid strictures and morals of our old society were whittled down.

  Suddenly Colt gripped his skinning knife and stood, his broad shoulders thrown back and his fierce gaze looking out into the swirling whiteness, that showed in a sliver between two wagons. Then his head spun to the side slightly eyes narrowing.

  “What is it,” the eldest of the Stevens men asked, standing in a crouch.

  “I thought I saw,” then he was off, his long legs carrying him to the edge of our circle in a breath.

  Chapter Five

  Diving into the swirling snow, shirtless, he crashed into a dark form and they rolled away out of sight. There was a mad scramble from all sides, and I noticed more than one hard cock standing free as the Stephen men stood and ran to follow Colt, tucking themselves away as they staggered after him. I was right behind the group of men and we streamed out into the freezing weather, to see Colt and a pair of tall broad Indians squaring off against each other.

  One of the dark-skinned braves held a hatchet in its hand and the other a long knife. I felt my stomach clench and fear grip me as I turned and yelled at one of the men to go get a rifle. Other figures could be seen dashing away from the other side of the wagon train, carrying sacks of our grain with them. I turned back just in time to see the two Indians, who had been circling dart in and attack Colt from either side.

  The young man writhed, quick as a serpent and avoided the two attacks. One of the Indians grabbed onto his upper arm, trying to pin his knife hand down as the other slashed at his throat. Colt stepped back avoiding the slash and smashed his forehead into the Indian holding him. The brave reeled back, blood spraying from a busted nose, and Colt stepped forward smoothly and struck with the butt of his knife, striking the other Indian in the temple. The man collapsed and his friend followed after Colt put a knee to his skull.

  Then Colt, after a quick glance to make sure we were ok, dashed out to intercept the thieves. There was a loud cry from out in the darkness and a horse came thundering out of the snow, bearing down on Colt. A great big Indian with a feathered crown and a wide grin charged my boy with a spear extended. Colt wheeled to the new threat and impossibly charged at the approaching rider. His wrist flickered and I saw blood fly from the rider’s spear arm and the point wobbled as he drew closer.

  At the last moment, Colt ducked and reaching up with one hand, gripped the spear, letting the momentum pick him up behind the rider. In a feat of supreme athleticism, he landed behind the rider and with his free arm wrapped it around the giant Indian's neck and pulled them both off the horses back. The two men tumbled hard, the horse wheeling, neighing and stomping the ground. I ran up and snatched its reins, just avoiding a bite from the mean animal, before I got a firm hold on the rope bridle.

  The giant Indian was the first up and he reached down to his side, then glanced down in surprise. He picked his head up so see Colt standing slowly, his grin bloody as he held the Indian chiefs wicked-looking long knife in one hand. I heard thundering footsteps behind me and knew men approached with rifles. The Indian chief glanced at the wagons and gave a fierce grin. He ducked his head as if in respect to Colt, glanced to where I held his horse with a sour grimace and then turning, dashed out into the swirling whi
teness. Colt didn’t bother to chase the man. He turned back to the wagons and began to shout orders. He called for rope and had the two braves he had captured tied up.

  I got the women and girls calmed down. Then tasked the girls with checking all of the stores. Colt had the men on alert and put his weapons back together quickly. We discovered that the Indians had stolen most of our stores of flour, corn, and barley and even a small cast of brandy. Whispered angry conversations picked up from all over and Helen gripped me tightly in a hug. Colt pulled on his jacket and took up his rifle, strapping on the six-shooter he had taken from Captain Peckering. His face was a storm cloud as he caught my eyes and I saw the determination in his face.

  “We have two of their men,” I said as I approached him, “do you think we can trade them for our supplies?”

  “Mary!” Colt called, his gaze sweeping the crowd. The slender scout and her sister stepped forward.

  “It was most likely the Endiho tribe,” she said her face grim, “they aren’t war-like but they have been known to raid wagon trains for supplies.”

  “Can we trade with them?” Colt asked.

  “You may be able to sir,” she said, “you defeated their chief in single combat.”

  “That won’t make them hate us more?” Asked a fearful Molly.

  “No,” Goldie said shaking her head, “Colt didn’t kill the man or his braves, that shows great honor to these tribesmen.”

  “It’s settled then,” Colt said, “Mary, Goldie and I will track them and try to get our supplies back. The rest of you get what rest you can and be prepared to leave at first light.” He turned to me and said, “You will have to lead them if we don’t return.”

  I stepped over to my wagon and reached into the back, pulling forth the two rifles I’d kept hidden there for days. I pulled the lever and jacketed a round into the chamber, turning to look at Colt I shook my head.

  “I’m riding with you,” I met his gaze, my own steely resolve not budging one inch I would not let his head out into the storm to bargain alone. “Helen get them ready in the morning.” The woman nodded to me, her face pale and then I ignored her and Annabelle’s worried looks as I saddled and bridled one of the horses. Colt had the two Indians tied over the chief’s horse and soon he was in his saddle as well. I swung into the saddle and Molly ran over to me with a big thick coat that I gratefully pulled on. Then we were off, riding through the swirling snow.

  Mary led the way, the girl pausing now and then to read the tracks on the ground when they weren’t obvious in the snow. We rode through a dense stand of trees and stopped at a wide creek. The trail disappeared and Colt ordered Mary and Goldie up both sides of the creek to search. Goldie found where they had exited the water, and the trail continued, and we were off again shortly. An hour later, my fingers tucked into my armpits to keep them warm, we rode around an outcropping of rock and found a ravine that extended deep into the mountains. The warm glow of cookfires and the sounds of a camp being stuck came to our ears.

  Colt motioned the girls to fall back beside me and he took the lead of the chief’s horse with the tied and gagged Indians on it. He led the way into the ravine. The first form that emerged from the swirling white was a female Indian, the first I had ever seen. A young woman with dark skin and liquid black eyes. She glared at Colt with fierce pride and then her eyes widened when she saw the horse he was leading and its contents. She glanced back to Colt, her eyes weighing and measuring.

  “Get your chief girl,” Colt said in his calm commanding voice, “tell him we want to trade.”

  The girl gave no indication that she understood Colt, but she turned and walked off down into the ravine. We moved a little forward and found a place to settle our horses. We dismounted and kept our weapons on display. Two Indians came in and set off to one side, not looking at us but clearly standing guard. These scouts must have seen us approach.

  Eventually, there was a lot of movement from deep in the ravine and a small group emerged. At their head was the giant man with the feathered headdress, he scowled when he was us standing there, his eyes roving over our group. He dismissed Mary and Goldie in an instant and his eyes lingered on me for a brief second until his sightline was cut off by Colt stepped in front of me. Glancing around him I saw the chief’s eyes grow thoughtful as he took in the tall handsome young man.

  The chief and his small party stopped a couple of dozen feet away and the big man spoke in his native tongue, his words terse and harsh, at odds with the smile playing around the man’s eyes. He was surrounded by a half dozen of his warriors as well as two older women and the younger Colt had ordered off.

  “Our chief says he has come,” said the young woman her eyes locked on Colt’s face, “So you can say what you have come to say.”

  The man stared at Colt and when the younger man nodded once and sat, crossing his legs and setting the rifle beside him on the ground the great big chief laughed from deep in his chest, and tossed his own rifle to one of his braves and sat as well, throwing back his long leather coat as he did.

  “You brave white man,” he said nodding, “much honor.”

  “We have need of supplies,” Colt said, surprising me with his tact, “and would trade with you.”

  “What could you have that we need?” The girl once more translated the chief’s words. I watched her carefully and the expressions of the two pretty older women behind her. Their faces were troubled and gaunt as if they had been suffering from deprivation, “These are our lands white man, you trespass.”

  “I have your men, your horse, and your weapon," Colt said holding up the old long knife. The chief stared at the weapon, his smiling face grew troubled and he shook his head, face growing grim.

  “Two failures and a knife are nothing to me,” the girl translated, “We have seen white man’s trades before. Blankets that kill and grain-filled with bugs. We have all that we need now."

  I’d been watching all of their expressions and was reading deeply into their motives and I spoke up, surprising them all as I looked straight into the eyes of the elder woman.

  “My son will no longer speak to this honorless dog,” shock turned to anger as the chief growled a curse, obviously understanding me, Colt turned to look at me, showing mild curiosity. I ignored them all and spoke to the real power here, “The man was charging on a horse, weapon in hand about to ride us down. My son, a noble warrior and our chosen leader, unhorsed your chief, taking his weapon and his horse, in one breath’s time,” I glanced down at the man, my sneer evident as I said, “then he ran, like a dog facing a lion.”

  "Too far white whore!" The chief growled and leaped to his feet, whipping his hand forward. I didn’t flinch, keeping his gaze trapped in my steel-hard eyes, trusting entirely in Colt. The young man’s long-arm lashed out and batted the throwing knife out of the man’s hand, his other hand had drawn the long knife and now pressed the razor-sharp blade to the enraged man’s throat. He froze, eyes wide on Colt. All of this before the other warriors could even ready their weapons. They glanced at one another uneasily, the tension building.

  I held the older Indian woman’s gaze, feeling their anger wash over me.

  “We came in good faith,” I said softly, my voice hard, “we could have come with rifles… we have many and you have none. We could have come with fire and anger. Instead, my leader chose to come and offer respect… and you let this dog speak for you?”

  “Enough!” The older Indian woman barked in a harsh voice, she spoke quickly, and the chief sagged, his anger melting away, “We will trade with them,” she spoke in English, a whispered comment from the woman beside her and she chopped the air with one hand, “I have spoken!”

  I touched Colt’s arm gently and he released the Chief, sheathing the long knife and stepping back. The big Indian moved back as well, his smile back as he nodded to Colt in approval. The man’s moods changed like quicksilver. He moved back amongst his braves speaking quickly, hands miming Colts attack. The old Indian woman sat in
the chief’s place and motioned for me to take Colt’s. She spoke in her language and a couple of Indians ran back into the crevasse, returning soon with a bundle of long sticks and leathers. Moving with practiced efficiency they soon had a wide teepee set up around a few of us, keeping out the wind and snow.

  Chapter Six

  “I am Anwee,” she said in accented English once we sat in a warm quiet space, “and we are all that remains of the Endiho tribe.

  “I am Elenore,” I said nodding slightly to her, “and we are from Colt’s wagon train, free citizens.”

  The woman was hard, and her words terse and to the point. I liked her immediately. She had no desire to give up what her son had found as she put it. But she would trade some of it for the two braves, nephews of hers, and the horse. She didn’t care about the knife and said it had been her late husbands and it deserved to be with the best warrior. Then she tried to trade her son and the nephews for Colt. Saying we would have greater need of the many men over the one. I laughed at her suggestion, saying we would never part with Colt, could not. He was our guiding light and at that the woman paused, eyeing the young man again. Her handsome face softening slightly in spite of herself, and I saw the effects my boy had on women, happening even to these natives here.

  "You're people are starving," I said finally as the negotiations came to an impasse, "that is why you can't give it back," the woman didn't refute my words, and as I looked around at the Indians I saw the evidence of their long deprivation in sunken eyes and hollowed out cheeks.

  “I have one final proposal for you,” I said, “and I pray you accept it. We split the dry goods between us evenly. We give you back all we have taken save the knife, and as a sign of the goodwill between our groups we gift each other something close to our hearts."