Curse Of The Spanish Gold (The Mountain Men Book 2)

by Terry Grosz

  “What about you, Cain? What are your druthers to that way of thinking?” asked Jacob.

  “Well, as the two of you already know, you are my only family. I sure would favor eventually going farther west and away from the likes of Ben Lord. But whatever you two decide to do, count me as a throw-in,” he replied quietly.

  “I hear tell from our Arapaho brothers that many wagons with white tops are coming down through South Pass and going to a place they call California. What say we move in that direction as we continue hunting and trapping. Then, if we find that our kind of business and lifestyle is gone, we can hitch up with some of those wagons and all go to California. That way Martin can see that big pond he is always talking about. Not to mention, Cain will be rid of slavery issues, and all of us can settle down and start families,” Jacob proposed thoughtfully, trying to read his brothers’ faces for their reactions to his newest proposal.

  “That sounds better to me than the earlier plan,” Martin exclaimed with a smile.

  “Then north it is,” said Cain with a tinge of excitement in his voice for the first time in many months.

  “Then it’s agreed,” said Jacob, letting a bit of excitement creep into his voice as well. “We’ll leave this valley and head north, and if that does not pan out, west it is.”

  That evening the men went to the rocky ledge behind the cabin that held their secret stash and retrieved their leather pouches, still holding the gold nuggets along with the Spanish gold. Several of the bags had been nibbled on by dusky-footed woodrats, but Martin had them patched up in no time. Back at the cabin, the men loaded the gold onto newly constructed pack frames for the two draft horses to see if they were capable of carrying the heavy cargo by themselves. They made a few adjustments to the frames in the form of underpadding, then unloaded everything after finding the draft horses stout enough for the loads they were to carry.

  The Dutch-oven apple pie that Cain made with soaked dried apple slices went down very well that evening. It might have gone down even better if the brothers had known what magic was in store for them at Fort Bridger...

  Chapter Fourteen

  A Fortuitous Meeting

  When late spring came, and the grass was sufficiently high for horses to live on, the men loaded up and headed their large pack string northwest. Before departing, Jacob and Martin each visited the carvings made by their fathers on the main ridgepole of their cabin in order to make their final farewells. As they rode out, the caravan was quiet for many miles. Jacob and Martin were silent because they were leaving a little piece of their lives forever. Cain, realizing the historical importance of the moment, remained at a distance out of respect for what it represented to the brothers.

  When dark came on the first day, they were camped along the North Platte River near present-day Saratoga, Wyoming. Martin hobbled the horses and mules, then turned them out so they could feed on the lush grasses along the riverbank. Jacob set to making a fire and cooking the evening meal while Cain built a large lean-to and set up the rest of their camp for the night. Dutch-oven biscuits and beans soaked from the day before cooked merrily over the fire, as did several slabs of back strap from a freshly killed buffalo calf taken on the day’s journey. Soon Jacob signaled that the chow was ready, and the men fell to their meal with the gusto born of hard living on the frontier. Finishing up the last of the beans and biscuits, Cain laid his huge frame against a nearby downed cottonwood log, placed a huge chew of tobacco in his cheek, and closed his eyes in contentment. Martin brought the livestock closer to camp to avoid the loss of such a valuable resource to bands of wandering Indians as Jacob walked to the nearby river to find some sand to scrub out their dishes and cooking pots.

  Jacob carefully stepped off the high bank of the river and down onto the rocks at its edge, feeling some pain and weakness in his still healing leg from the moose collision. Bending over at the water’s edge, he took several handfuls of sand and scrubbed the plates and bean pot, then rinsed them off in the river’s cold waters. Gathering up the plates and bean pot, Jacob turned and found himself looking directly into the eyes of an Indian lying under the edge of the riverbank not eight feet away!

  “Hey-hey-hey!” he yelled in surprise as he dropped the plates and bean pot on his feet. Still startled by the close encounter and hopping in pain from the impact of the cast-iron bean pot on his moccasined toes, he stepped back into the river, slipped on the wet, mossy rocks, and fell full length into the cold water. Cain and Martin were up in an instant, and, grabbing their rifles, both men ran to the river’s edge to aid Jacob in whatever danger he had stumbled upon.

  Lunging up out of the cold water, blowing hard, Jacob stared at the Indian, still lying motionless under the riverbank, as he bellowed out, “What in tarnation!”

  Cain and Martin stood on the edge of the bank with their rifles at the ready, looking on in surprise at Jacob standing in the river, soaking wet and behaving like a damn fool, and seeing nothing else.

  “Under the bank at your feet,” Jacob yelled as he pointed his finger in their direction.

  Cain and Martin stood on the bank, puzzled by what Jacob was trying to tell them because they couldn’t see anything under the bank overhang.

  “Indian, you damn fools. He is lying right there under the riverbank at your feet!” yelled Jacob.

  Cain stepped off the bank and, upon seeing the Indian lying there motionless, reached under the overhang, grabbed him by the throat, and jerked him up in front of his massive frame. The Indian went limp and passed out in the big man’s hands. Not understanding what was happening, Cain tossed the body up onto the bank by Martin’s feet like a sack of barley.

  Jacob staggered out from the water and up onto the bank next to his brother to examine their find. The men found themselves looking down at an Indian boy, probably Lakota based on his garb, with an Arapaho arrow sticking out from the thickness of his upper thigh. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old, and had likely been injured for some time. His gaunt features spoke of many days without food, and the arrow wound was badly infested with maggots. It quickly became apparent that he had been in a fight with the Arapaho and somehow had escaped unnoticed. Feverish, he had probably scrawled to the river looking for water.

  Jacob picked up the scattered dishes and bean pot while Martin and Cain took the Indian boy to their camp to see what they could do for him. Stripping off the still unconscious boy’s leggings, the three men carefully examined the wound. It was a high thigh wound, and the arrow was still sticking out from where its head had penetrated the leg muscle to the edge of the bone. Live maggots dripped from the festering wound as Jacob reached down, took the arrow’s shaft into his hand, and looked up at his brothers’ faces, figuring that since the boy was still unconscious, it was the time for direct action. Reading their eyes, Jacob shoved hard on the arrow’s shaft until it broke free from the thigh bone and ripped through the remainder of the muscle, passing out the other side. Pus, maggots, and discolored blood literally poured from the exit wound. After heating some water to cleanse the wound, Jacob and Martin were surprised to find Cain quietly kneeling at the boy’s side. With his powerful hands, he gently massaged the wound until he had pressed out all the maggots, sour blood, and pus. Opening the wound channel with his knife, carefully so as not to further destroy any more muscle tissue than he had to, Cain poured in some of their whiskey until it flowed freely, mixed with bright blood, out the exit hole. The boy moaned in pain but remained unconscious while Cain ministered to him. Cain washed the wound vigorously with warm water and wiped it dry. He trimmed away the putrid flesh with his knife, poured some gunpowder into the entry hole, and set it ablaze with the end of a burning stick from their campfire. The flame flared up briefly when it came into contact with the gunpowder and then died out as the smell of burning, rotted flesh hung heavy in the damp evening air. Then he wrapped the leg, making sure the exit hole could drain freely. Finally he gently raised the still unconscious boy and placed him on some of his
own sleeping furs under the lean-to. Martin and Jacob were amazed at the tenderness they had just observed. How a man so large could act so gently yet kill so quickly and violently was almost beyond their comprehension.

  The next morning the men woke to find the boy sitting up on Cain’s sleeping furs with a worried look on his face. Jacob could just imagine what was going through his mind now that he had been captured by two heavily bearded “white-eyes” and one huge man who was all black. A large helping of hot bacon and biscuits slathered with honey, which the boy greedily devoured, seemed to convince him that he would not be eaten by the strangers anytime soon. That good feeling continued when Cain gently cleaned the wound and, satisfied with its progress in just one night, rebound it with another soft, tanned rabbit skin tied firmly with an elk-leather thong.

  Jacob and Martin had learned some Lakota in their youth. Using a mix of Lakota and sign, the universal talk of the plains, the three men tried to explain to the boy that they meant him no harm and were trying to heal him. After that the tired, weak youth seemed to relax, but his eyes never left the men as they went about their camp chores.

  “Jacob,” said Cain, “the boy needs to rest some afore we drag him along on the trail.”

  Jacob looked over at Martin, then turned and said, “We ain’t in that big a hurry, so I reckon we can wait around for a few days to see how he mends. In fact, maybe by then some of his kin will come looking for him and can take him home.”

  The men spent the next four days along the river, waiting for the boy to heal well enough to travel. In the meantime, they learned that the boy’s name was Walks-in-the-Sun. They also learned that his band of Lakota had been surprised by a larger band of Arapaho while buffalo hunting; during the running battle Walks-in-the-Sun was wounded, fell off his horse into the tall grasses, and was left for dead on the battlefield. When he felt it to be safe to move, he stumbled to the river and hid in its brush, hoping he wouldn’t be discovered and killed by the Arapaho. After the Arapaho war party moved on, the boy attempted to walk downstream to where his people had last camped, but he found that they had fled the country. Weakening and unable to walk any farther, he had hidden by the Platte River until discovered by the trappers.

  On the fifth day the men gathered up their belongings and headed northwest across the Muddy River and into the area known as the Great Divide Basin, a massive sea of nothing but sagebrush and prairie grasses. The lands were full of game, and the men made use of the easy availability of good meat, especially buffalo. Behind their pack string rode Walks-in-the-Sun, comfortably laid out on a travois. With plenty of food and rest, his leg healed quickly, and soon he could hobble around camp with the aid of a cane made from a tree root. His improvement created a new concern for the men: What should they to do with the lad once he was able to move more freely? For the moment, they continued traveling northwest, hunting along the way. Jacob and Martin noticed that Cain rarely left the boy’s side, and a deep, abiding friendship began to develop between the former slave and the injured youth.

  Soon the little party arrived on the bank of the Big Sandy River where it makes an abrupt turn almost due north. For the last three days they had been surrounded by thousands of elk and buffalo, and today was no different. Except for some Indian sign, they appeared to be almost alone among the great expanses of sagebrush and herds of wildlife. Looking over the area from a rise in the rolling hills, Jacob sat on his horse and surveyed the land below. Before him some hundred yards away lay a small creek entering the Big Sandy, fed by clear water coming from a nearby hillside spring. This would be enough water for all our needs and our livestock if we were to live nearby, he thought. He also noticed a small wooded area close to the spring where anyone camping would be out of the wind and sheltered from winter storms. Seeing Jacob sitting there quietly scanning the countryside, Martin and Cain rode up beside him and looked over the area as well without a word spoken.

  Finally Martin asked, “Are you thinking what I am?”

  “I’m thinking this would be a good place to set down some roots for winter. The area is alive with game, and the Indian sign is few and far between. There’s plenty of fresh water and firewood close at hand, and it’s well pastured. The Big Sandy is nearby, with lots of beaver sign, and we would be out of the weather and off the beaten path,” Jacob answered quietly.

  “The time is right for us to begin setting up our winter camp. We have plenty of time to gather our winter’s supply of meat, build a cabin with corrals, and stockpile firewood before the snows fly. Plus, the area would be great for our livestock even in the worst of weather because of the cover it affords from the winds,” Martin said, smiling.

  “What do you think, Cain?” asked Jacob.

  “If we were to build a cabin in that small area to the left among the cottonwoods, it would be in a great position to defend against attack. Not to mention, it’s close to a good source of water and feed for our livestock,” Cain replied thoughtfully, pleased that he was being asked for his opinion.

  “Then let’s make our winter camp in that grove of cottonwoods and get on with the chores of making meat for the winter and building ourselves a cabin,” said Jacob.

  With that, the three men and Walks-in-the-Sun, now riding his own horse cut from the pack string, spurred their horses down into the wooded valley to make their winter camp.

  Chapter Fifteen

  One Big Surprise Followed By Another

  The loud and nervous braying of Dander, Cain’s riding mule, caused the men to look up from their labors in building the walls of their cabin in the cottonwood grove. Not sixty yards away sat thirty mounted and fiercely painted Lakota Indians, quietly surrounding the trappers’ herd of grazing horses and mules. To the men’s amazement, the band had sneaked that close to the hardworking trappers without being detected. Grabbing their close-at-hand rifles, the three men quickly faced the threat. Then out from the cottonwood grove to the left and right of their cabin thundered another thirty or so mounted Lakota, who were also fiercely painted for war! Totally surrounded, the men realized that to try to fight their way clear and retreat to the cover of the partially raised cabin walls was to court immediate death from a hail of arrows and bullets. Howling and yelling, the obviously agitated and excited Indians were a hair-trigger pull away from descending upon the hapless trappers, but they were restrained by a powerfully built man who was obviously some sort of a chief. From his position in front, sitting on his horse calmly studying the situation, he stared long and hard at the cornered trappers. Then, abruptly holding his right hand up for silence, the chief began questioning the trappers in sign as to why they had invaded the sacred hunting grounds of the Lakota and were now building a cabin on their lands without permission.

  Stepping forward, Jacob replied in sign, “We are here in friendship and did not know these lands were sacred to the Lakota.”

  The chief answered in sign, “Lay down your rifles, or all of you will be killed.”

  Realizing that to lay down their rifles would take away any chance they had to live, Jacob took a gamble, knowing the Indians respected courage. He told the chief in Lakota, “We feel because of all the fierce warriors in front of us, that to lay down our rifles is not a wise or good thing to do.”

  The chief appeared startled at being answered in the Lakota tongue instead of sign and sat for a long moment, staring hard at Jacob.

  Off to the south, the trappers now saw what appeared to be a dust cloud from a larger band of Lakota on the move and coming their way. Jacob realized that they were now really in trouble! The warriors would fight even more fiercely than before with their women and other tribal members looking on.

  Then, to everyone’s amazement, Walks-in-the Sun strode purposefully out of the grove of cottonwoods where he had been taking care of a call of nature and walked between the group of Indians confronting the trappers and the newfound friends who had nursed him back to health. Crossing his arms in a defiant manner, Walks-in-the-Sun stood looking at the
startled Indians. For a long moment no one moved, and Jacob thought that, unarmed as he was, the brave young man was probably about to die for his brave but foolish act.

  Then, raising his right hand, Walks-in-the Sun said in Lakota, “Father, I have returned from the land of the Cloud People. I was wounded in the fight with the Arapaho but escaped and hid by a river. These three trappers found me and treated my wounds. Today I am all but well because of these men and now am very happy to see you and the rest of my people.”

  The three trappers stood there thunderstruck. Just moments before they had been preparing to die quickly in battle, but now their act of caring for the wounded Indian lad was quite possibly bearing fruit of a bountiful kind. Then they heard several loud screams and saw two Indian women running through the mounted warriors. They threw their arms around Walks-in-the-Sun, and talking, crying, and hugging, all three fell to the ground in a happy pile. In the meantime, not a warrior moved or took his eyes off the three armed trappers. To their way of thinking, the trespassers were not out of the woods until their chief said so.

  Rising up from the ground, an adult Indian woman ran to the side of the chief and, through tears of happiness, grabbed his leg and spoke rapidly in Lakota. “Our son has returned from the dead! He says he was saved by these men, and now he has returned to us. Please do not harm them, for they have given us back our only son and our daughter’s brother,” said the joyful woman.

  Jacob and Martin, understanding most of what she had said, stood waiting to see what would happen next. Cain, taking his cue from the brothers, remained alert because, to his way of thinking, they were still in hot water if the stem look on the chief’s face meant anything.

  “White man, is it true what my wife says? Did you save Walks-in-the-Sun after he had been wounded?” the chief asked Jacob.