by Terry Grosz
The next morning, Iron Hand and Old Potts butchered out the horse that Big Foot had killed inadvertently when his rifle ball had blasted clear through the head of the last Frenchman trying to kill Old Potts and into one of the Hudson Bay men’s horses staked nearby. Removing a mess of steaks from the horse’s hindquarter, they were staked out over the fire and later consumed for breakfast. Then the men went through the Hudson Bay men’s belongings, took what they could use, gathered up their riding and packhorses, burned the remaining camp’s gear, and left the area. However, as the men searched through the dead men’s belongings, the discovery of the four fresh Indian scalps discovered on the bodies of the Gros Ventre kept running through their minds... Little did any of the men realize that mystery of the fresh scalps would soon be resolved, almost resulting in mistaken bloodshed between the four trappers and some of their nearby Medicine Lake Blackfoot Indians.
When the four trappers left the once deadly scene of the previous evening’s battle, they were leading an additional five horses, carrying four extra rifles and five pistols, not to mention 21 beaver skins the Hudson Bay men had removed from Old Potts’s trap line from the day before. On their way back into their previous trapping grounds, the men stopped and retrieved their two packhorses they had left staked out in a grove of aspens so they could travel lighter and faster after their trap robbers. Then back in their old beaver trapping area, Iron Hand once again set all of their traps in likely looking places and when they arrived at the location for the last trap-set, the four trappers got an unexpected surprise!
Rounding a low ridge line, the four men were unexpectedly and quickly surrounded by 20 fiercely painted and mounted, hostile-appearing Blackfoot warriors! Stopping and raising his arm in the universal sign of peace, the trappers were still mobbed by the warriors with a lot of aggressive horse-bumping, curdling whoops and threatening gestures! Old Potts, who fluently spoke the Blackfoot language, was finally able to get everyone calmed down, identify his group of trappers as friends to Chief Mingan and in a subsequent discussion with the war party’s leader, discovered what the issue was regarding the Indians’ openly aggressive behavior and reason for the mistaken identity.
It seemed that the day before, four of their tribe’s younger men had been out buffalo hunting nearby and had killed several of the beasts. Then from all indications of sign left behind at the kill site, four men on shod horses had ambushed and killed the young Indian buffalo hunters! When the young men did not return home that evening, several family members went looking for the hunters and had discovered their scalped and mutilated bodies, just as four unknown and suspect ‘trappers’ were sighted riding off to the northeast. The Indians’ main camp was alerted to the killing and a war party assembled and sent looking for the four trappers suspected of killing the young Indian men on their first buffalo hunt.
As it turned out, the war party had subsequently a day later run into Old Potts and his group of trappers returning from the Hudson Bay men’s battle, thinking they were the killers of the four young Indian buffalo hunters. By the time it was all sorted out, Old Potts had figured out what had really happened as well. He suspected that the four Hudson Bay trappers were the culprits who had killed the young Indian buffalo hunters. That was because that group of trappers had been in that same area the day before stealing all of Old Potts’s and his men’s dead beaver and traps! The one and same men who had been cooking fresh buffalo steaks when they were surprised and killed by Old Potts and his group of aggrieved trappers, after they had been tracked down to their campsite in the heavy timber the night before.
Talking fast to avoid any further confusion and possible deadly misidentification consequences, Old Potts explained to the leader of the war party what he suspected had happened. He then identified Iron Hand, Brother to Chief Mingan, to the group for further validation of the truthfulness of what he had just said. Immediately, the young leader of the war party, one who had not been at the ‘arrival celebration’ at Fort Union earlier in the year, did however recognize the significance of Iron Hand’s name and his new ‘relationship’ to Chief Mingan. Instantly the tone and tenor of the war party changed to one of respect and admiration for the giant of a man quietly sitting on his horse in their presence.
Then Old Potts advised the young war party leader that the four evil Hudson Bay trappers had been killed by Iron Hand’s people the night before and their bodies left for the wolves! With those words, the Indian leader’s eyes quickly revealed a new respect for the trappers in his midst who had done such a great deed. Old Potts, realizing the value the Blackfoot placed on possessing good horseflesh, looked over his shoulder and said, “Big Foot, bring those horses we took from the Hudson Bay men forward.”
When Old Potts spoke those words, all the eyes of those in the war party, now swung onto Big Foot as he pushed his horse through the tight throng of men, trailing five horses to Old Potts’s side.
“These horses all belonged to the evil trappers who took the lives of your four young men yesterday. Since we killed those evil trappers, they no longer have any use for good horses. Therefore, we are giving them to you to bring back to Chief Mingan as a gesture of our good will and for distribution to his people as he sees fit. Additionally, we are also giving to you the four rifles and five pistols the bad trappers were carrying and probably used to kill your young men. Again, since dead men have no use for good firearms, we are giving them to our Indian brothers and Iron Hand’s Brother, Chief Mingan, for use and distribution as he also sees fit. Lastly, we are returning the scalps taken by the Gros Ventre Hudson Bay men from your young hunters who were killed, so they can be returned to their bodies so they will not have to forever walk in the “Happy Hunting Grounds” looking for the rest of their ‘beings’ before they can rest.”
With those words, all the anger and fight went out from the group of Indians assembled and the trappers could now see renewed respect for not only them but their relationship with their powerful chief as well.
Then the strangest damn thing happened, which took all four of the trappers by surprise. The young leader of the war party, a man in his early twenties and one who was very well-built, named “Spotted Eagle”, cousin to Chief Mingan, said to Old Potts, “Is that big man who sits on his horse like a tree, the one my tribe and chief holds in such high esteem for the big power he holds in his hands?”
Old Potts just grinned, remembering what Iron Hand had done to the Blackfoot attackers of their camp with his bare hands. He then said, “Yes, he is the one who can kill with just his bare hands if he is unjustly attacked.” When he spoke those words, he could see the normally quiet Iron Hand sitting on his horse, now appearing to be very uncomfortable since he had now become the unwanted center of attention.
“Show me,” said the young Indian leader pointedly and in so doing, obviously trying to impress the other young warriors in his war party who were following him...
“How do you mean?” asked Old Potts, now concerned over the buildup he had given Iron Hand, and with what could possibly happen when an Indian tried to show off and was embarrassed in the process, especially in front of his friends.
“I will show,” said the young and very muscular young warrior, as he kicked his animal in the flanks over to that of the side of Iron Hand’s horse. Sitting there on his horse, looking Iron Hand directly into his eyes as if trying to intimidate him, he thrust out his right hand. When he did, the young Indian leader kept his hand out as if expecting something from Iron Hand.
Then Old Potts finally realized what the young Indian warrior was trying to do with his gesture. He wanted to test Iron Hand’s strength and in so doing, impress the young warriors following him, especially if he could hold his own with a man who had become a legend among his band. “Careful there, Iron Hand. Don’t make him look too bad or we may have our own little war right here and now if you piss him off and embarrass him all to hell,” warned Old Potts with a cautionary tone to his voice.
“What do you wan
t me to do?” asked Iron Hand, with a now concerned look on his face as well.
“He wants to shake your hand like all white men do when greeting one another. Just do it but be aware, he may squeeze the hell out of your hand showing off to all the other young warriors looking on, to show how strong he is,” said a now very concerned Old Potts.
Iron Hand did as he was told and was immediately surprised over the power the young Indian leader had in his hand, as he squeezed down, HARD! “Now what do I do?” asked Iron Hand still holding the young Indian leader’s hand, as he looked over to Old Potts for some guidance on what to do next in a ticklish situation not of his making.
“Squeeze his hand so he knows he has been bested by a better man than he, but for God’s sake, don’t injure him,” said Old Potts with a bit of worry now creeping into his voice.
With those words of direction, Iron Hand produced a big ole bearded grin over at the young Indian man trying to impress his followers, and then CLAMPED DOWN HARD ON THE MAN’S HAND, AS HE KEPT GRINNING A DEVIOUS GRIN AT THE MAN TRYING IRON HAND ‘ON FOR SIZE’!
What happened next surprised even Old Potts and the rest of the onlooking assembled group of trappers and Indians. Iron Hand clamped down so hard on the young Indian warrior’s hand that he literally exploded off his horse and onto the ground, all the while loudly yelling over the pain Iron Hand was inflicting on the young man’s hand!
With that surprising reaction from the young man in obvious extreme pain, Iron Hand quickly let go but kept on grinning at the warrior like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. With that, the young Indian’s hand hurt so much, that he was hopping around and limping in pain as if it was his foot that hurt instead of his right hand and did so, all in the same motion of movement...
When that happened, there was a loud “OOOOOHHH” emitted from all the rest of the now amazed and impressed war party over what they had just witnessed happening to their very strong in and of himself, leader. Finally, the young warrior chief got control over his hand’s pain, leaped back onto his horse and tried looking like everything was alright. However, it did not take the assembled groups of Indians and trappers long to realize that the young Indian warrior leader was holding his horse’s reins with his off hand and not the one that Iron Hand had just about crushed...
Then as if to dampen the young warrior’s embarrassment over what had just happened, Old Potts handed the Hudson Bay men’s horse string lead rope to the young leader as their weapons were distributed to the rest of the men still looking on in amazement over what had just happened to their young leader. A young leader who in times past had physically bested every one of them who were following him that morning!
With the basic issue of pursuit of the guilty parties over since they had already been killed, the two groups separated and went their ways in friendship. As they did, it was obvious that the young leader of the war party was still holding his horse’s reins with his off hand.
Later back at their camp, the four trappers double hobbled all of their horse string and let them out onto the prairie to graze. Since they had carried a portion of the horse meat from the Hudson Bay camp back to their home site after a long day, a fire was quickly constructed and soon coffee was boiling and the horse meat was cooking away. After supper and having brought their horses back to their corral for safer keeping, the men spent a number of hours into the night fleshing out beaver by the light of their fire and hooping those skins retrieved from the Hudson Bay men before retiring.
For the next month until just before freeze up, the men trapped beaver from daylight until dark regardless of what the weather brought to the Northern Plains. Upon freeze up, in came the beaver traps and out went the wolf traps placed around several freshly killed buffalo carcasses being used as bait. Soon a substantial number of thick and beautifully furred wolf skins were being processed and later stored in their cave along with the rest of the men’s furs. By now, deep winter on the Northern Plains had set in with a vengeance, and for many days the men were now confined to their camp because of the extremely cold and blizzard-like conditions howling across the Northern Plains.
One morning, Iron Hand went forth into their grove of trees to procure some firewood for their cooking fire so he could make coffee and breakfast. Walking back to their camp, his ‘sixth sense’ kicked in, letting him know something was ‘blowing’ in the wind. With those inner feelings ‘stoking his fire’, Iron Hand brought forth his Hawken from the sleeping area in the cave and laid it next to where he was fixing breakfast by the campfire, just in case. Looking upward, Iron Hand could see that the day was going to be extremely cold and the sky was a deep blue, as one only finds on the great Northern Plains in the quiet and cold of the dead of winter. However, the sun was ‘smiling’ weakly and it would be another good day to go out and check their wolf traps. As Iron Hand moved their coffee pot off the hanging irons from directly over the fire and set it off to one side to cool on the designated ‘cooling rock’, his ‘sixth sense’ inside him told him to ‘look up’.
When he did, Iron Hand spotted a lone Indian dressed in his heavy winter clothing, sitting on his horse not 30 yards from their camp, quietly watching him! Glancing over making sure exactly where his rifle was leaning against a sitting log, Iron Hand looked back up and when he did, THE INDIAN THAT HAD BEEN QUIETLY SITTING THERE ON HIS HORSE WATCHING HIM, HAD DISAPPEARED! Standing up and looking all around sensing danger was when Iron Hand realized the Indian was now working his horse slowly through their grove of aspens and coming his way. Walking over to the sitting log next to the fire, Iron Hand sat down alongside his Hawken and just watched his mystery Indian visitor, as he continued slowly walking his horse through their leafless aspen grove towards their campfire like a man on a mission.
Finally, the mystery Indian walked his horse right into their camp and then just sat there in the saddle looking intently down at Iron Hand. Fortunately for the moment in time, Old Potts had been teaching Iron Hand the ways, culture and language of the Blackfoot Nation for the last six months, so that he now felt comfortable conversing in their language. Without alerting his fellow trappers still sleeping in their cave, Iron Hand welcomed the Indian to the camp of the trappers in the Blackfoot language and told him to light down and warm up by the fire. For the longest time, the Indian remained seated in his saddle like he didn’t understand what had just been said and continued looking down at Iron Hand in the strangest of ways.
Then Iron Hand suddenly recognized the young Indian man sitting on the horse. He was the one whose hand he had almost crushed in a handshaking event to see who was the toughest of the lot among them, back earlier in the fall when his group of trappers had been intercepted by a number of ‘on the hunt’ Blackfoot warriors. Warriors who were hunting a number of unknown fur trappers in the area, who had recently killed four young Indian men from their tribe on their first buffalo hunt nearby. Warriors who were too late in their mission of revenge because Old Potts and his band of trappers had already tracked down those killers, who were also the ones stealing their beaver traps and had killed the lot...
By now, Iron Hand could hear the coffee still slow boiling merrily away in their old pot as it sat next to him on a flat rock, just removed from the fire irons and now in the process of cooling. Standing up and moving away from his rifle as a gesture of friendship and good will, Iron Hand took a rag, removed the pot from the cooling rock and poured a steaming cup full of the ‘Devil’s brew’ and held it out towards the young Indian man. Iron Hand held out that hot cup of coffee to a man in appreciation for one who had to be damned-near frozen after making what had to have been a long ride on a horse in the dead of winter over to the fur trappers’ camp.
With that gesture of friendship, the Indian lightly leapt from his horse, walked over and thankfully took the cup of hot coffee, smelled it and then took a careful sip of the still hot brew. Iron Hand then poured himself a cup and sat down on the sitting log by the fire, next to his rifle, and beckoned for the y
oung Indian man to do the same. Without any hesitation, the young man sat down by the fire, obviously cold from his long trip a-horse from somewhere distant, and then just looked long and hard into the fire without talking and obviously deep into his thoughts on what he had to say to the giant fur trapper.
Remembering what Old Potts had taught him about the Blackfoot culture, Iron Hand just quietly waited for the young man to speak his piece, as he quietly took a sip from his own coffee cup. Long moments later, it soon became evident as to why the visit from the young Blackfoot warrior into the camp of the white men fur trappers had been made.
Turning and looking intently right at Iron Hand, the young Blackfoot warrior, one who now introduced himself formally as “Spotted Eagle”, began speaking (Author’s Note: A ‘spotted eagle’ is an immature golden eagle--one whose tail feathers are highly prized by most Native Americans, tail feathers that many times illegally sell for up to $40 apiece). Once he began, Iron Hand came to quickly realize that the young man had rehearsed what he needed to say in front of the white man and was not to be interrupted while he spoke on so serious a matter. So, sitting back and looking directly into the young man’s eyes, as he was in turn looking into Iron Hand’s, he quietly listened to the serious sounding young man. In the sing-song language of the Blackfoot, Spotted Eagle said, “My Father had once been a great warrior and my mother had been one of the most beautiful women in my village. Both had since been taken by the white man’s disease that puts red spots all over the body and makes the body seem like it is burning up (smallpox). When they died, I had to raise myself from a young age and was now older and wise as the horned owl. Now, I am a successful warrior and highly respected by the old people in my village as well as by my uncle, the great Chief, Mingan.”
“But I have fallen in love with a young woman from my village and talked to my uncle about my love for this person and my wish to marry her. However, my uncle told me that maybe the young woman I love had eyes for another man, namely a white fur trapper of renown and greatness. My uncle told me that I needed to talk to the Great White Trapper, the one who my people have named “Iron Hand”, and see if he wanted the same woman as did I. He asked me to do so, because you have already given the one I love four very valuable horses as a gift, like a man in love would do. If so, my uncle said Iron Hand needed to be the one to marry the woman since he had saved her life, had given her such a valuable gift and in so doing, had spoken for her in the way of the Blackfeet. With Chief Mingan’s words of wisdom in my ears and heart, he told me where I could find you so we could talk. So that is why I am here. I wish to take Sinopa as my wife, the great chief’s younger sister. But my uncle says I must check with you first to see if you wish to be the one to take her as your wife. If you do wish to have her as your wife, let me know so that I may leave with a heavy heart,” continued Spotted Eagle, whose dark eyes never left those of Iron Hand’s! With those much-practiced words out and ‘into the wind’, Spotted Eagle turned away and once again, looked deeply into the fire and waited for Iron Hand’s response... Then as if he could not stand the suspense of waiting any longer for Iron Hand’s response, turned and looked directly back into Iron Hand’s eyes for his answer of greatest importance.