To the River's End

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  When the Indian was nearing the place where Willow had crossed over the stream, Luke held back a little farther, anticipating the Indian’s pause to examine the tracks. It wasn’t a long pause, since the signs were so obvious that Crooked Foot had left the stream there to follow the woman’s tracks. Wounded Horse picked up his pace again, knowing Crooked Foot was on the woman’s trail. Behind him, Luke started closing the distance between them, aware that they would soon come to Crooked Foot’s body. His rifle strapped on his back, his bow ready with an arrow notched on the bowstring, Luke continued to close on the Blackfoot. He had reduced the distance between them to about twenty yards before Wounded Horse halted suddenly, stopped short by the sight of Crooked Foot’s body lying in a pool of blood-red snow. He looked left and right for an ambush, unaware of the fully drawn bow aimed at his back. The force of the arrow as it drove into his back caused the Indian to stumble forward a few steps, trying to regain his balance. He turned to take the impact of a second arrow in his chest and dropped to his knees while fumbling unsuccessfully with his fusil to load it.

  He ended the second Indian’s suffering as he had the first. Then, although loathe to do so, he took the scalps of both and left his arrows in the one body. Just as he had done with Standing Elk, he hoped to confuse the war party, making them think they were killed by Indians, instead of a couple of fur trappers. Most important, maybe they might think there were many Indians hiding in these mountains. With no desire to keep the disgusting trophies, he found a rotten stump to cram the two scalps into. Worried about his tracks leading to the stump, he was suddenly rewarded by the gentle fall of snowflakes about him. He looked up at the clouds and expressed his heartfelt thanks.

  The next problem to work on was the fact that the two bodies were partway up the hill, which would indicate the path they had been following would be a path that led to his camp. He looked up at the snow again and was grateful to see it coming down harder. If it kept up, he might get away with misleading the Indians. With no time to waste, he grabbed one of the warriors by his ankles and started dragging him back down to the creek. He dragged him across the creek and a good way up the hill on the other side. Then he went back to get the other body. When he was finished, he felt he had duplicated the scene of the killings, with the difference being they were partway up the opposite hill. Now, if the Good Lord will do his part and cover all the tracks I’ve left, he thought. Then he hurried back across the creek to climb up the hill and head to his camp. If he was lucky, the snow shower would be enough to cover everything, including the bloody patch of snow. As he hustled to climb up the slope, he could imagine Jug going crazy wondering where he was about now.

  * * *

  “Where the hell have you been?” Jug greeted him when he showed up to find the little man half-hidden among the lower boughs of a big fir near the horses. “I thought you mighta run into them Blackfeet lookin’ for Willow and it looks like you did. I don’t reckon there’s a new tradin’ post down that way where you coulda bought them guns.” Without waiting for Luke’s answer, he went on to another subject. “I told you there ain’t nobody ever baked better biscuits than me. Willow wanted to know how I baked them biscuits. I had to clear the snow off my oven and mix up a batch of dough and bake her some biscuits.”

  Luke stared at him for a few moments, hardly believing his ears. He had just come from killing two Blackfoot warriors, and knew there were eleven more that were going to go on the warpath as soon as they found out about the two he killed, their rifles on his shoulder. And Jug was talking about his biscuits again? Luke shook his head slowly and asked, “Are there any of ’em left?”

  “Sure,” Jug replied. “We saved you a couple. Willow made sure of that. She said you went off without no breakfast.”

  “Good, ’cause I’m hungry. What were you doin’, sittin’ up here in the tree?”

  “Sittin’ lookout,” Jug said. “I was aimin’ to pop the first Blackfoot that showed hisself on that rise. You was lucky I didn’t shoot you.”

  “Oh, you interested in the Blackfoot, are you?” Luke chided him. “I thought you were just interested in your biscuits.” Jug looked at him as if he didn’t understand what he was implying. “Well,” Luke went on, “we got ourselves a situation that don’t exactly work to our advantage. There’s a party of eleven Blackfoot warriors camped down by the river. There were thirteen of ’em, but one of them got killed when he came trackin’ after Willow. Then another one got killed when he came trackin’ after the first Indian.”

  “Dang,” Jug grunted. “That don’t sound too good. I thought them Injuns would be long gone. So they was onto her trail, huh? And it led ’em straight up the side of this hill right to this camp. Eleven of ’em,” he repeated, fully aware of the problem now. “I reckon you shot the two dead ones, huh?”

  “Not exactly, but I killed ’em,” Luke replied. “You’da heard it, if I’da shot ’em. The rest of that war party woulda heard it, too. Their camp ain’t too far away from here.”

  “I reckon we’ve got Willow to thank for that, too,” Jug grumbled. “It’da been a sight better, if she coulda waited till they got a little farther up the Judith before she took off for the mountains.”

  “But then, she wouldn’ta had you and me to help her out, and we wouldn’ta wanted that, would we?”

  “Nah,” Jug replied. “We wouldn’ta wanted her to end up with that Bloody Hand Injun. She don’t deserve that.” He thought about her for a moment, picturing her beaming face as she watched him make up his biscuit dough. “No,” he commented, “she’s a keeper.” Bringing his thoughts back to their immediate problem, he said, “If you killed those two Injuns where you said, then the rest of the Injuns will know they were on the way up this hill. So I reckon we’d best get ourselves ready to pick ’em off when they start up here.”

  “I’m hopin’ we won’t have to fight ’em here,” Luke said. Then he went on to tell Jug how he had dragged the bodies across the creek and headed them up the hill on that side of the creek. “It all depends on if this snow is gonna keep fallin’ because my tracks are all over that hillside.”

  “Well, then there ain’t nothin’ to worry about,” Jug assured him. “That snow ain’t even got started good. I coulda told you that. When the rheumatis in my knees start achin’ like a toothache, it’s either gonna pour rain or snow a blizzard.”

  “If that’s so, then I hope your knees keep achin’ all night long,” Luke said. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” Jug said.

  “If we can keep that war party from findin’ this camp, I’m hopin’ they’ll give up searchin’ for the ones who killed their warriors and decide they’ve hung around in the cold weather too long. If that don’t happen, then I’m hopin’ to keep an eye on ’em and start whittlin’ away at ’em till they lose too many. That’s something I wanna talk to Willow about. She oughta be able to tell me what kinda weapons they’ve got.”

  * * *

  Willow looked up from the antelope hide she was working on with the intent of making herself some warm clothing. Seeing that it was Luke who had come in, she smiled warmly, grateful to see his safe return. “You are hungry, yes? You go without eating anything this morning. I will cook you some elk meat.”

  “I am hungry, yes,” Luke answered her greeting, “but I can roast up my breakfast. Ain’t no use in stoppin’ what you’re doin’ there. And you can talk to me while I’m eatin’.”

  “I keep biscuits warm for you,” Willow said and pointed to a covered pan by the fire.

  “Why, I appreciate that,” Luke told her, aware that she was attempting to keep a polite conversation going but was likely more anxious to hear if he had found the war party. “I hate to disappoint you, but that war party is still camped down by the river.” Her face immediately showed the fear that had momentarily been forgotten. “They sent two men out to look for you, but they are both dead, although Bloody Hand doesn’t know that yet.” His statement caused her to draw her breath in shar
ply in distress, as a mental picture of the war chief’s reaction when he found out formed in her mind. “We mighta got lucky with this snowfall,” he went on. “Snowin’ as hard as it is now, it won’t take long to cover everybody’s tracks. So it’s still gonna take some luck for them to find this camp.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “In the meantime, I’m gonna try to keep an eye on ’em. I’m hopin’ you can give me a better idea of how many of those warriors have guns.”

  She paused to think about that for a moment before responding. “Most of them have bows,” she said. “Bloody Hand has a long gun like yours and a pistol, too.” She hesitated while she tried to form a mental image of the warriors in the camp as they had ridden out each morning. After another moment, she held up her hand with all fingers up.

  “Five?” Luke asked.

  “Five,” she repeated.

  He nodded. That meant there were now three armed with firearms, for both of the men he had killed on the side of the hill were carrying Northwest Trade Guns. A full stock weapon with a thirty-inch barrel, the Northwest Trade Gun was the most popular with the Indians. Called a fusil or fusee by the French, it was a smooth-bore weapon, which the Indians seemed to prefer over a rifle. He wasn’t sure if that information would turn out to be of any value to him, but it was always good to know what you were up against. He also had to allow for the strong possibility that Willow could have easily miscounted, considering the stress she must have been under. He thanked her for her help and accepted the roasted strip of meat she offered. They sat in silence for a few minutes while he ate his belated breakfast of biscuit and elk before asking, “Where are your people, Willow?”

  She answered with a sad smile and said, “My father was killed in a war with the Sioux, four winters ago. “My mother and my brother and I went to live with my mother’s people in a village near the Platte River. That is where I met my husband. He took me to live with his people on the Yellowstone.”

  “Is that where you want to go when the winter is over? Back to your husband’s people?” Luke asked.

  She hesitated before answering. “There is nothing to go back to. Bloody Hand and his evil warriors killed half of Long Runner’s people. They killed his mother and father. There is nothing there for me.” She looked at him, waiting for his response. When he merely nodded his head but said nothing, she suggested, “I could stay and cook and sew for you and Jug. I am a good cook, and I can make your clothes and take care of your wounds.”

  Aware of the desperation in her proposal, Luke felt deep empathy for the poor lost young woman. He wanted to give her some comfort of mind, but he couldn’t predict what might happen if the Blackfoot party found their little hidden valley. “That’s a mighty fine offer you’re makin’,” he began. “Maybe I’d best tell you what our plans are. Me and Jug are partners in the business of trappin’ animals, mostly beaver. We came up here in the fall to trap beaver, and now that winter’s hit, we can’t do any more trappin’ till the winter’s over. So we’ll just hole up here like a couple of old grizzlies. And when the streams and ponds are runnin’ free again, we’ll go back to trappin’ beaver till their fur gets too scrawny. Then we’ll pack up our plews and head down to Horse Creek to the rendezvous to sell ’em. And that’s what we have to do to make our livin’.” He paused to add, “’Course all that might be changed, dependin’ on what these dang Blackfeet decide to do.” He watched her reactions throughout his whole dissertation on the life of a trapper, and she showed no emotion one way or the other. “Now that you’ve heard how dull it’s gonna be, I’m sure I speak for Jug and myself when I say you’re welcome to stay as long as you can stand it.”

  Her face immediately lit up at that. “Oh, thank you, Luke. I swear you not be sorry. I’m a good worker, I can skin and butcher a deer, and if you show me how to shoot, I can help you, if we have to fight.”

  “Well,” Luke replied, laughing, “it sounds like a good deal all the way around.” He finished up his breakfast and got to his feet, extended his hand, and said, “Welcome to the family.” She took his hand and pumped it up and down vigorously. “I’d best go help Jug with the horses, now,” he said. She was beaming brightly as he walked out.

  “We got enough of that cottonwood feed till tomorrow?” Luke asked Jug when he walked up to the fir barn. “I wanna cut down another tree, but I don’t wanna take a chance on somebody hearin’ me choppin’ a tree.” Jug allowed that there was enough feed in his opinion, so Luke told him about the conversation he had just had with Willow. “I’d druther had talked to you about it before I told her she could stay, but I figured you felt about the same as I did.”

  “Oh, hell, yeah,” Jug came back at once. “Ain’t no way we’re gonna turn that poor little gal out to make it on her own.” He looked Luke in the eye then and cocked an eyebrow. “But one thing we’d best get straight right from the beginnin’. I ain’t nowhere near as young as you two, but this is a partnership between me and you. And I’m the one who invited you to partner-up. So, if you two youngsters get to sniffin’ around each other, and decide to hook up, there ain’t gonna be no three-way split with the money. It’s still fifty-fifty.”

  Luke couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Don’t worry, Grandpa, there ain’t nothin’ like that goin’ on. Hell, she’s still in mournin’. She just lost her husband. Right now, she just needs a place to get outta the cold.”

  “Yeah, I reckon,” Jug said. “Let’s try to make sure that damn Blackfoot don’t get her back.” He snorted in disgust and spat a stream of tobacco juice into the snow. “I swear, most of the time I have to meet a man before I get to despise him as much as I hate that Injun.”

  “If he finds out those two warriors of his were killed by a white trapper, I expect he’ll hate you as much as you hate him,” Luke responded.

  Luke’s remark caused Jug to pause and think about it a moment. “That ol’ boy must be wonderin’ about a lotta things right now, after he finds his two friends deader’n hell, scalped, and two arrows stickin’ outta one of ’em. Them arrows has got all kinds of Blackfoot markin’s on ’em. That’s got to cause him a heap of confusion. He might hafta get him some signs made up for the rest of ’em to wear.” He made a sweeping motion across his chest. “I am a Blackfoot!”

  They both got a chuckle out of Jug’s remarks, but both of them knew they were in an extremely precarious situation. “Let’s take a look at my tracks,” Luke said and walked a little way past the horses. Jug followed him and they stood looking down the slope in the direction from which Luke had returned after his encounter with the two warriors. “It’s doin’ a pretty good job of coverin’ up my tracks,” he said, “and it ain’t showin’ any sign of lettin’ up. Pretty soon, they’re gonna have to find us on their own ’cause they ain’t gonna be able to follow my tracks.”

  Chapter 13

  “It has been too long,” Two Toes said to Crazy Wolf. “It is beginning to snow harder and soon it will become too dark to see anything. Still, Bloody Hand waits here. If Wounded Horse has not caught up with Crooked Foot by now, then the woman must have drowned in the river as you said.” The young Blackfoot warrior obviously wanted Crazy Wolf to convince Bloody Hand to forget the woman, get off this riverbank, and find a ravine or some place to try to stay warm that night. Then start for home in the morning while their horses could still make it through the snow.

  “I have already spoken with Bloody Hand on the matter of the woman,” Crazy Wolf said. “I think he will surely see the folly in searching for her.” He didn’t have to try to talk to him again, however, for Bloody Hand called to him first.

  “Crazy Wolf,” Bloody Hand said as he suddenly left the campfire and marched over to join them. “I must find our warriors. Something is not right. If they could not find the woman’s trail, we will have to search for her in the morning. Two Toes, you and Yellow Rock come with me. Crazy Wolf, you must stay here and keep the fire burning strong. I’ll take the younger men to help me find Wounded Horse.”

  “As y
ou wish,” Crazy Wolf replied and stood back while the three men climbed on their horses and started up the stream. Bloody Hand led his search party along the frozen stream while the other warriors gathered around Crazy Wolf and watched them until they disappeared from sight. Only then did one of them question the war chief’s sense of priorities.

  “I have fear that this Crow woman has cast a spell over Bloody Hand,” Walks His Horse complained. “Two Toes is right, the woman is dead. She needed warm clothes to survive in this cold. If she is not in the river, then she is most likely lying dead in the snow. Some of us have decided to start back to our village in the morning whether he has found the woman or not. We don’t want to offend Bloody Hand. Maybe he will listen to you.”

  Crazy Wolf nodded his head thoughtfully. “We will see what the other warriors found. Maybe he will decide she is gone and decide to leave this place. But I will tell you this, if he stays, then I will go back to the village with you.” His decision seemed to reassure the other warriors.

  * * *

  The snow was already covering the tracks of Wounded Horse and Crooked Foot, with only an occasional spotting of a print where one of the men they followed had slipped or stepped in a hole. Bloody Hand made no attempt to hide his irritation with the weather, but eventually he was forced to give in to the solid white expanse before them. He turned to give the signal to halt brief seconds before Yellow Rock sang out, “There!” Bloody Hand and Two Toes looked in the direction Yellow Rock pointed, following a line toward the upslope of a steep hill. What at first appeared to be a rock or a clump of bushes, covered with snow, was actually the form of a human arm extended from the object. Bloody Hand immediately nudged his horse forward and came out of the saddle beside the snow-covered mound, which was twenty yards or so up the incline.