“You are fixin’ to tell me where our cache is, ain’t you, partner?” Jug japed.
“I told you, ain’t nothin’ for you to worry about,” Luke japed in return. “I got two Blackfoot warriors guardin’ it. I’ll take you to see it any time you feel like you can get on a horse again.”
“I was just gettin’ a little worried about you, spendin’ so much time outside when it’s this cold. Sometimes a man loses his memory when he’s in the cold too long.”
“Is that a fact?” Luke came back. “Well, I ain’t worried about it. Don’t matter to me none.” He paused and pretended to be trying to recall. “What were we talkin’ about?”
* * *
The days continued to slide by slowly, one day pretty much like the day preceding it. Jug finally seemed to make a full recovery from his wounds and was helping Luke with the chores. Without either man really aware of it, Willow gradually became a part of the unit and they seemed to operate more like a family than a partnership. Although all the horses were looking somewhat poorly, none seemed in danger of dying. And then it happened—it was Willow who broke the news. “The water is running in the stream,” she announced and held her pan out for them to see. “I went to get ice to melt, so I could make your coffee, and look.” She swished the water around in the pan and it swirled with chunks of ice floating in it. “I don’t have to use my axe,” she went on. “I just dip pan in stream.”
“By Ned, that’s good news to start the day with,” Jug exclaimed, then paused. “You ain’t japin’ us, are you?”
“I not jape,” she insisted. “I not use axe.”
It didn’t happen overnight, but the days warmed up just a hair over the next few weeks, and Luke and Jug were out every day looking for signs that would tell them the beaver were out of their lodges again. Finally, there was enough sign—small trees felled, dams neatening up—telling them it was time to trap. They picked up where they had left off before the freeze and returned to the ridge where the two streams joined to form the pond that fed the creek that ran down the center of an open meadow. The meadow was still covered with snow, but the creek was running and there was beaver sign all about on both sides of the creek. The catch was as fruitful as Jug had predicted, and the beaver fur was thick and heavy. For a period of a couple of weeks, the streams they were trapping were close enough to their winter camp to permit them to stay there. There was a reluctance on the part of all three to leave a camp that had been so comfortable for them during the roughest part of the winter. But the day arrived when they decided they had trapped out the close streams. It was time to follow to wherever the beaver led them.
They moved their camp to a canyon that led deeper into the heart of the mountain range, where several small springs joined to form a wide creek where the beaver were at work replenishing a dam with fresh limbs and branches. They figured they would likely be here for a couple of days, maybe three. So Luke and Jug began bending limbs and branches over in the shape of a dome to be covered with buffalo and elk hides for a roof. They worked very quickly, having done it many times before, but then Luke thought to stop and ask Willow a question. “I know you didn’t have any choice back at our winter camp, but you can have one now, if you like. Do you want us to make you a separate hut all your own? You must be sick of livin’ with the two of us.”
“No, is no matter,” Willow responded. “Too much trouble.” She would actually have liked to have her own tipi, but she didn’t want to make any extra trouble to give them any reason to get rid of her. And she was aware that they tried their best to be gentlemen. “We stay same tipi, no matter.”
“All right,” Luke replied. “Anytime you change your mind, just let me know and I’ll build you your own castle.”
Willow smiled at him. “What is castle?”
“A big fancy tipi with lots of rooms in it.” He chuckled then and said, “Where you could put Jug off in one corner and you wouldn’t hear some of the sounds he makes when he’s sleepin’.”
She giggled at that. “You mean when he cough from wrong end?”
“Yeah,” he answered, chuckling, “he’s got a bad cough, especially when you cook beans for supper.”
“We got no more beans, anyway,” she said.
They both laughed after her comment, but it caused Luke to think about their supplies. “So we’re outta beans, are we? Tell you the truth, when we bought supplies for this winter, we didn’t get many beans ’cause we didn’t think we’d have time to soak beans and cook ’em but maybe once in a big while.” He gave her a grin. “We didn’t know we were gonna have a cook with us. With Jug havin’ to show off with his biscuits, we’re most likely gettin’ low on flour and lard, too.” She nodded her head to confirm it. “How ’bout coffee?” He asked then, and she nodded again. “Cornmeal?”
“Gone,” she said.
He realized that he had been so occupied with hunting, tending the horses, and now trapping again, that he hadn’t paid any attention to their supplies. It wouldn’t be the first time he had gone a long time with nothing to eat but meat. But especially with Willow along to do the cooking, he’d prefer to have something with the meat. The problem, of course, was the fact that there was no place to buy supplies. Then he thought of a possible solution to their puzzle and he walked down to the edge of the creek where Jug was watching the horses drink.
“We didn’t figure we’d be drivin’ this many horses with us, did we?” Luke asked when he walked up.
“We sure as hell didn’t,” Jug answered, “and they’re already gettin’ to be a problem.”
“We’ve got another problem, too,” Luke said. “Maybe the horses could help it.” He went on to talk about their shortage of basic supplies to cook with. Like Luke, Jug had paid little attention to it since Willow joined them. “What about that fellow you told me about when we were trappin’ the Judith? What was his name?” When Jug didn’t recall the conversation he was referring to, Luke said, “You said he had a tradin’ post on the Judith about fifteen miles north of where we turned around to come back here.”
“Oh, you’re talkin’ about Nate Jolley,” Jug replied.
“Yeah, Nate Jolley. You think he’s still runnin’ a tradin’ post on the Judith?”
“I don’t know.” He hesitated. “I reckon. Why?”
“I’m thinkin’ he might wanna trade some flour and coffee and such for a good horse,” Luke said. “Does he trade horses? We might trade some of these horses we’re havin’ to fool with.”
“That ain’t a bad idea,” Jug responded right away. “Nate’s got a barn and a sizable corral. I think he trades with the Injuns for horses sometimes. You wanna take a ride up there to see? I reckon he’s still in business. I might even be able to fill my jug.” He smacked his lips thinking about it. “And right now would be a good time to do it. It’s still pretty damn cold, and we’re less likely to run into any big parties of Blackfoot.”
“I think that’s what we oughta do,” Luke replied. “If I remember right, you told me that day on the Judith that his tradin’ post wasn’t but about fifteen miles from where we turned around. So, I bet it ain’t more’n about ten or twelve from where we are right here.”
With that decision made, they wondered about Willow. They couldn’t take her with them. Jolley’s wife was a Blackfoot, and according to Jug, their half-breed son might as well be full-blood Blackfoot. But they didn’t want to leave her alone, so Luke suggested that Jug should stay there with her and he would go alone. Jug disagreed, saying Luke should stay with Willow, because Jolley knew him and would assume he was still with Hudson’s Bay Company. They were still arguing the point when they came back to the campfire. Willow listened to them for a little while before interrupting. “You both go. Take care of each other. I don’t need nobody for short time you say you be gone.”
They had to admit that her suggestion was most likely the best one. There had been no sign of any hunting parties anywhere they had scouted since resuming their trapping. They could
check their traps before sunup, ride up to the trading post and return well before suppertime. “I scrape beaver hides while you gone,” she said. That settled it. They would go the next morning.
* * *
Another good yield from their traps provided them with eight prime plews for Willow to scrape and stretch while they were gone. They debated the number of horses they should take to Nate Jolley’s trading post and decided on three. Even at the rate they were trapping beaver, they had no worries about having enough horses to carry their pelts. Jug joked that when they came back next year, they’d do well to bring a wrangler just to handle the horses.
The sun had barely made an appearance over the plains to the east of them when they started out following the Judith River north. This, after Willow assured them she would be all right until they returned. They made a new trail along the riverbank through snow about a foot and a half deep, which told them no one had traveled that way recently. They spotted the trading post when still a quarter of a mile away and were satisfied to see a column of smoke coming out of the chimney. They continued on until coming to the path that led to the front of the weathered building, a path, they noticed, that was churned up by countless hoofprints. Luke noticed the barn behind the store and a small cabin a dozen yards down the riverbank. Their arrival was announced by a brown and white hound dog that came out from under the porch as they stepped down from the saddle. They walked up the four steps to the porch and went in the front door.
“Well, I’ll be . . .” Nate Jolley started. “Jug Sartain,” he uttered softly, then raised his voice. “Clover, it’s Jug Sartain!” Then he greeted the two men. “I swear, Jug, I thought you’d gone under. I ain’t seen you in a coon’s age. I heard two or three years ago that you weren’t with Hudson’s Bay no more.” He was interrupted then when an Indian woman came in from the back. “Honey, you remember Jug Sartain, don’tcha? Use to work for the Hudson’s Bay folks.”
“Sure, I do,” Clover said. “You still carryin’ that jug with you?”
“Right outside on my horse,” Jug answered. “I was hopin’ you might have a little firewater for sale.”
“Who’s this young feller with you?” Nate asked.
“This here’s Luke Ransom,” Jug replied. “Me and Luke have been chasin’ some horses that got loose and come up this way.”
“You ain’t in the beaver fur business no more?” Nate asked.
“Nope, when I left Hudson’s Bay, I didn’t wanna see another beaver,” Jug said. With Nate knowing he wasn’t with Hudson’s Bay any longer, it wouldn’t do for word to reach the Blackfoot villages that he was trapping beaver. “Me and Luke was doin’ some scoutin’ for the soldiers, till they started makin’ war on the Injuns. Now, we’re just knockin’ about, pickin’ up wild horses and sellin’ ’em. You still buyin’ horses? I remember you useta.”
“Not so much, anymore,” Nate said. “There ain’t nobody to sell ’em to.”
“You still in the business of sellin’ staples and gun powder?”
“Yeah, I reckon you could say that’s about all we do,” Nate answered. “That and whiskey. We do a lot of business with the Blackfoot tribe, thanks to Clover and Pike.” He interrupted himself. “You remember my boy, Pike, don’t you? Pike,” he called out then, “you remember Jug Sartain, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I remember him,” Pike Jolley answered reluctantly. Luke had noticed him, sitting at a small table in a corner near the kitchen. A dark, sullen-looking young man, as far as Luke could tell, he was eating some meat out of a bowl. The corner was dark, so Luke thought he might be an Indian until Nate identified him. He made no pretense of being glad to see Jug again.
Jug didn’t waste any greetings on the half-breed son but went back to the business of trade. “I’ll tell you the truth, Nate, me and Luke kinda hit a hard spot in the trail. We’re outta supplies, and we got no money to buy any. Which, I reckon you could say is your good fortune. We ain’t lookin’ to make no profit offa this deal ’cause I remember you was always square with me. We’ve got two fine horses out front and I’m willin’ to trade you even-up for some supplies. We need flour, salt, sugar, coffee beans, dried soup beans, cornmeal, if you got any, some gunpowder, flints, and lead. You load us up with that and you get both horses.”
Right away, it sounded like too good a deal to be true, so Nate said, “I’d have to look at these horses first,” he said. “What’s wrong with ’em? They must be old.”
“You take a look at ’em,” Jug said. “You know how to judge horseflesh. Take Pike, over there, with you. He oughta know horses pretty good, too.” Pike didn’t wait to be asked. He got up from the table and went out the front door. When the rest of them went out, he was inspecting one of the horses’ hooves. “And we just come through the hardest part of the winter,” Jug pointed out.
“You got three horses on that line,” Nate said.
“That’s a fact,” Jug replied. “You get to pick two of ’em and whichever one you don’t pick we’ll load our supplies on him and he can tote ’em back to our camp.”
The Jolley father-son team went over the three horses from muzzle to tail, forcing Nate to admit that he couldn’t find anything wrong with any of the three. Well aware that he was getting a hell of a bargain, he allowed as much when he extended his hand to seal the deal. “I’ll fill that jug of yours to boot,” he said.
As pleased as Nate seemed to be, his son appeared to be just as strongly in the opposite direction. It occurred to Luke that Pike was looking upon Jug and him with the contempt the typical Blackfoot had for the white man. Can’t really blame him, Luke thought, we’re most of us a pretty sorry lot. The sullen young man left them then and took the two selected horses to the barn behind the house. When they had placed all their supplies in the bags they brought for that purpose, they loaded them on the lone packhorse. While they were tying the load down, Luke saw Pike ride out of the barn and head north along the river.
As an additional courtesy, Nate had Clover grind some roasted coffee beans in her coffee mill. “So if you’re completely out, you’ll have some ready to boil you up a pot of coffee as soon as you get back to your camp,” he said.
They said goodbye then and climbed on their horses for the ride back to the mountains. When they were out of earshot of the store, Luke remarked. “Nate Jolley seems like a likable fellow, but that son of his is a full-blood Blackfoot. I got a real strong feelin’ we ain’t seen the last of Pike Jolley.”
“I got the same feelin’,” Jug replied. “The price of them goods we’re totin’ back to camp mighta gone up to be more’n them two horses we paid for ’em. We’d best get along on up this river before he comes back and gets on our trail.”
“Yeah, right,” Luke came back and shook his head, thinking Pike could come back tomorrow and follow their trail in the snow. But he didn’t bother to point that out to Jug.
* * *
They made it back to their camp in the early afternoon, just as they had figured. When they pulled into the grove of trees by the creek, Luke was happy to see Willow emerge from a laurel thicket away from their hut. She was holding her bow and a couple of arrows, which even pleased him more. “Did you hide in the bushes with your bow the whole time we were gone?”
“No,” she replied, indignantly. “I hear you come up creek, so I get in the bush to make sure it’s you.”
“Well, we brought you enough supplies so you can cook something to go with the meat,” Luke said. “And we can have some coffee with our supper tonight.” He showed her the sack with fresh ground coffee. “I might need some good strong coffee tonight, dependin’ on how good we hid our trail once we got off that riverbank.”
“You think somebody follow you?” Willow asked, at once concerned.
“I think they might,” Luke answered. “It’s just a feelin’, but Jug has the same feelin’.” He went on to tell her about Nate Jolley’s son and the fact that they felt he might have gone to tell his Blackfoot friends about Jug and him an
d the fact that they had some horses.
“They might be thinkin’ about our horses and they might not,” Jug advised. “But I reckon we’d best be thinkin’ they’re plannin’ to come see how many horses we’ve got. So, we’d do well to get set up to wait for ’em tonight and hope we was wrong.”
Chapter 18
“How do you know they have a lot of horses?” Three Bulls asked.
“Because they trade two good horses for flour and coffee,” Pike Jolley replied. “One horse would buy three times as much as they got for two horses. That tells me they have plenty of horses. I know I will go to see how many they have. You and Lame Coyote can go with me if you want. If you do not want to go, I’ll just go alone and take the horses for myself. I would have done that, anyway, if I knew the two white men were alone with the horses, but they must have had someone watching the horses while they were at my father’s store.”
To the River's End Page 20