by Terry Grosz
The next moment, he was immediately surrounded by the rest of his fellow trappers, all partially dressed but armed to the teeth for any kind of danger that was to follow. For the longest time, all the men stood eyeing the empty corral with disbelief, surprise and inner concern all in the same breath! They immediately realized that they were now afoot in hostile Indian country without a chance in hell of making their ways back to Fort Union alive. In essence, being deep in the heart of Gros Ventre Indian country without the means of flight or escape, they now realized that they were ‘dead men walking’...
Then Iron Hand quietly said, “Best we make haste and ready ourselves for a long day. The winds of last night’s storm covered the sounds of our horse thieves stealing and making off with our only means of survival. To me, that is a killing offense but I have to catch the thieves in order to kill them! So I say we had better get going after our thieves while the trail is still fresh and not terribly drifted over. Otherwise, they and our horses will be gone forever…as will we!”
Then Old Potts walked over to their cache house where they kept all their traps and riding equipment to gather up some bridles so they could bring back any horses they could catch, and then froze in his tracks! “I be damned! Those basterds, whoever they are, took all of our traps as well as our horse gear. They never left a single trap or a piece of leather riding gear in which to give us any chance for survival! Whoever did this not only took our horses but any chance we would of had in the way of making any kind of a livelihood as well... They knew damned well that by taking our horses and traps, we would be forced from this neck of the woods and any and all trapping!”
With those words of their potential deaths in the wind, Big Foot and Crooked Hand headed for their cabin without another word being spoken. They knew what had to be done and were on their way to see to it, as Old Potts soon followed. However, Iron Hand on another mission of sorts, took off down the trail of the stolen horses, as his ‘sixth sense’ rolled around in his gut like a great horned owl just run over by a madly stampeding buffalo...
Iron Hand had not gone a 100 yards following the tracks of the stolen herd of horses and the six sets of Indians’ moccasin tracks, when he came to a spot in the nearby aspen grove holding a number of new tracks. Kneeling down, Iron Hand discovered two sets of shod horse tracks along with the tracks from the six Indians’ unshod ponies! Additionally, he identified the footprints in the freshly fallen snow from two other mystery individuals who were not of the moccasin-wearing type but were wearing what appeared to be sets of boots!
Standing there in the morning’s cold, Iron Hand began putting together in his mind what he figured must have occurred. To his way of thinking, there were eight individuals involved in the theft of their horses and traps. Two appeared to be from white men and six from their Indian friends. Those thoughts were further validated by the six sets of unshod horse tracks and the two sets of shod horse tracks normally ridden by white men, all clearly in evidence in the freshly fallen snow in the aspen grove. From there, Iron Hand observed that all of the tracks from those doing the livestock stealing and those of the trappers’ horse herd headed south towards the distant Missouri River, and its comforting dense river breaks of vegetation in which to hide from any pursuit by the aggrieved trappers and would allow one to get out from any adverse weather. Standing there in anger, Iron Hand did not know where the horse thieves would be going but he knew of four trappers who would quickly be hot on their trail! That was unless the thieves were quickly caught by the trappers, or their four trackers following behind were killed outright by other groups of Indians catching them out on the open plains without the built-in defenses of their horses...
Trotting back to the cabin, Iron Hand loaded up his possibles bag with extra caps, balls and wadding. Around his now-dressed in his heaviest winter garb-covered shoulders went two powder horns filled with powder enough for a long fight and tucked into his belt went his ever-present tomahawk. Grabbing his carry bag, he loaded it up with jerky, as his partners were simultaneously doing the same. They jointly figured that they would be limited to cold tracking and cold camping along the way in order to not alert the horse thieves that they were being hotly pursued. Then Iron Hand rolled up his bearskin rug as the others did the same, realizing they would be sleeping along the trail and would need some kind of comfort to keep them alive in the intense winter cold and up off the snow-covered ground. Those rugs were hastily placed into slings so they could be ‘shoulder-carried’ once the men hit the trail of the horse thieves.
Once the rest of the trappers had finished dressing into their heaviest cold weather gear, they all gathered up their rifles and two horse pistols apiece. Finally, on went their powder horns as well as their rifles and pistols, knives and tomahawks, possibles bags and carry bags full of jerky. Without further delay, out the door of their cabin they went into winter’s cold with Iron Hand leading the way. Being the best tracker of the group, Iron Hand led the men at a time-proven way of travel or a ‘trapper’s trot’ following the herd of stolen horses and those who had done the stealing. (Author’s Note: A ‘trapper’s trot’ was a way many trappers covered great distances of ground when an emergency or drastic need arose for an extreme amount of ground to be covered. That ground-eating formula of travel consisted of a trapper trotting a 100 yards and then walking 50 while he rested. Then the whole process was repeated time and time again as needed. It has been documented in many history books relating to those storied Mountain Men, that many miles a day could be covered by using such methods when the need for such necessary emergency travel was called for or existed.)
Initially, the stolen horse herd’s tracks and those of the thieves made a beeline for the Poplar River. Then the tracks turned southward following the Poplar River towards the Missouri River. As they did, Iron Hand was amazed that the horse thieves were not hard-pushing the stolen livestock in order to get the hell out of the country. That told him that the horses had been stolen during the deep of night when the winds had covered any sounds made by the thieves. Figuring they had made a timely escape and the snow would soon cover their tracks, the thieves had not hurried up in their travels. They were right in one aspect though. The newly falling and drifting snows had pretty much covered up their tracks once they were out on the open, wind-swept prairie. But there were still indentations in the fresh snow from so many horses and it was those marks that Iron Hand was able to follow.
As Iron Hand trotted along in his typical, long-legged trapper’s trot, he was still easily able to follow the trail the horses’ hoofprint indentations. By so doing, he was even able to cut across country and intercept the trail at different points and many junctures, thereby shortening their route of pursuit. Come nightfall, the four tired men retired into a small stand of timber along the Poplar River and made their cold camp. No fire was lit for fear of giving away their presence to the horse thieves if they were close at hand and watching their back trail. Cold jerky was their supper, snow was dissolved in their mouths for water, and then the exhausted men rolled up in their sleeping furs that had been carried on their backs and when they did, they found that sleep came easily despite the snow and intense cold...
Come daylight, the four trappers were once again hot on the trail left by the horse thieves. As they continued cold tracking the horse-hoof indentations, Iron Hand finally realized who might be riding the shod horses normally ridden by the white men in that neck of the country. The thought of “Hudson Bay Company men” crossed his mind many times as he continued along the trail, now getting harder to follow due to the ever-shifting prairie winds and the snow now being wind-drifted over the indentations. Why else would someone steal all of their traps as well as their horses? Iron Hand kept asking himself. He knew there were Hudson Bay men trapping further north of where they had been trapping, but how did they know where he and his three friends would be trapping?
Then he remembered back about the six sets of Indian moccasin tracks clustered around the corral
gate. Somehow the Indians had previously discovered the trappers’ camp and had gone to the Hudson Bay men and had so advised of their find. Since the Hudson Bay Company offered rewards, which included alcohol to any Indians for information on any American trappers in country trapping and competing with their own operations, Iron Hand figured he had now put two and two together. With the Indians’ fresh information regarding American Fur Company Trappers or Free Trappers in country, the Hudson Bay men figured they would accompany the finders back to the cabin, steal the horses and traps, and thereby severely cripple any other trapping competition in the area, if not killing it and the aggrieved trappers outright. The thought of anyone doing such a deadly, far-reaching thing over beaver plus did nothing more than just harden Iron Hand’s thoughts and determination on the coming retribution if and when the thieves could be run down and confronted...
On day three of the four trappers’ pursuit of the horse thieves, Iron Hand and company had finally arrived on the north bank of the Missouri River. There the stolen horse trail turned and led westward along the Missouri River breaks and even deeper into the dreaded Gros Ventre Indian country! But by now, with the intense cold, lack of warm food, cold sleeping conditions and the basic wrong of stealing a man’s way of survival out on the frontier, all four of the trappers resolve had hardened like river stones! If they ever found the horse thieves and their stolen horses, there was now little thought of leniency or forgiveness in the minds of each man...
Come day four of their pursuit, the trappers ate the last of their jerky! Now they were on their own, as if they had not been for the last three days of their pursuit. Long about noon on day four of their pursuit of their stolen horses, Iron Hand spotted a group of about ten Indians out hunting buffalo a short ways off. Being that the four trappers were moving along the edge of the Missouri River breaks, they quickly ‘dissolved’ into the brush along the waterway for their own protection since they were a-foot and outnumbered. There they were forced to lie low for four hours in the snow, until the Indians had left their buffalo kill site. When they left, Old Potts and Iron Hand ventured across the prairie to the kill site and discovered the Indians had killed 13 buffalo, taken what they could and had left the rest for the wolves. That night, the four trappers gorged themselves on still warm and raw buffalo meat for the first time in many such days! Sleep came much easier that evening with a more than full belly of rich and energy-boosting buffalo meat.
Dawn on day five found Iron Hand and his fellow trappers hard on the cold trail once again and now very much aware that the tracks from the stolen horse herd they had been following were getting fresher! Come nightfall on day five, found the four trappers sneaking towards a small flicker of light being emitted from a campfire down along the Missouri River bottoms out of the way from the ever-blowing and chilling winter winds. Another hour of sneaking towards the light of a campfire and one could hear human voices laughing and having a pleasurable good time. Sneaking even closer to the large campfire, Iron Hand and his fellow trappers discovered their horse herd inside a rope corral and eight individuals located a short distance away around a campfire roasting great slabs of buffalo meat. In fact, the four trappers were close enough that they could even smell the rich smells of roasting buffalo meat and found their bodies making lots of quiet noises from deep inside their now empty stomachs...
It was obvious from all the happy laughter and loud talking, that the two white men in the group of eight horse thieves had broken out the rum now that they figured they were out from harm’s way when it came to any form of pursuit. It was also obvious to the quiet observers that everyone was ‘deep into their cups’. Without any words being spoken and with just the use of hand signals, the four trappers quietly spread out alongside the eight men’s camp in the darkness for what was to violently come if they had their druthers and if the good Lord would just look away...
Moments later, Iron Hand quietly stepped out from the river bottom’s dense leafless brush and just silently stood there at the edge of the light of the horse thieves’ campfire. For the longest time, Iron Hand just stood there stone-cold still and unnoticed by the ‘happy eight’ celebrating around their campfire over their horse-stealing successes. Then one of the white men of the thieves’ group noticed the giant of a man standing silently and boldly at the edge of the light of their fire! When he did, HE INSTANTLY REALIZED THAT THE MOUNTAIN OF A MAN FACING THEM WITH A DEADLY LOOK IN HIS DARK EYES WITH HIS RIFLE HELD AT THE READY WASN’T ONE OF THEIRS!
Quickly reaching for the pistol in his belt realizing he was now possibly staring death in the eye from one of the stolen horses’ owners, he drew it and that was his last worldly deed! Iron Hand shot him between the eyes from 30 feet away with his .50 caliber Hawken and that man’s head exploded into a ‘spew’ of bright red blood and grayish looking mush! For an instant, there was utter surprised silence coming from those horse-stealing celebrants around the campfire. THEN, THE RIVER BOTTOM BRUSH FURTHER ERUPTED SIMULTANEOUSLY WITH THE ROARING SOUNDS OF MORE HAWKEN RIFLES SPEWING DEADLY HOT LEAD INTO THREE OTHER NEARBY MEN STANDING AROUND THE CAMPFIRE! THAT DEADLY MOMENT WAS QUICKLY FOLLOWED BY THE LIGHTER SOUNDS OF FOUR PISTOLS BEING FIRED ALMOST IN UNISON! AS PLANNED, THOSE PISTOLS LOADED WITH BUCK AND BALL WERE DEVASTATING AT SUCH A CLOSE RANGE... THEN STONE-COLD SILENCE REIGNED EXCEPT FOR THE SOUNDS OF A CRACKLING CAMPFIRE AND THE SNORTING AND NERVOUS STAMPING OF FEET FROM THE NEARBY, ALARMED OVER WHAT HAD JUST HAPPENED, HORSES! EVEN MORE SO DID THE HORSES BECOME ALARMED WHEN THE SMELL OF BLACK POWDER SMOKE DRIFTED THEIR WAY, AS DID THE FRESH SCENT OF HUMAN BLOOD!
For the next several moments, the air around the campfire was faintly clouded with the white smoke and acrid smells of freshly burned black powder... Seeing no other threats, the river bottom brush parted, producing three more determined-looking trappers from the cover in which they had been hiding. The next sounds heard were from four men reloading their rifles and pistols, in case they had overlooked the number of men in the horse thieves’ camp and there was still danger close at hand. Finding they had ‘harvested’ their ‘crop’ of horse thieves, the four trappers walked over to the campfire to see exactly what their death and destruction had wrought.
An hour later, the eight horse thieves’ bodies had been dumped out onto the ice of the Missouri River for the wolves and bald eagles to find and devour. As for the remaining trappers, they warmed themselves around a roaring campfire, drank rum supplied by the Hudson Bay Fur Company horse thieves, and ate all they could hold in previously roasting buffalo meat meant for the eight deceased men. Men who were now cooling out on the ice of the nearby frozen-over river... Later that evening, the four exhausted trappers slept soundly around their warming campfire, the first they had experienced in five days of wintering out on the open plains in the dead of winter. Now what had earlier been ‘dead men walking’, were now just four tired fur trappers quietly and warmly sleeping in the comfort of knowing they were once again ‘a-horse’...
The next morning, Old Potts and Iron Hand, while Crooked Hand and Big Foot cooked breakfast, went through the dead horse thieves’ belongings. As suspected, Old Potts, by the cut of their clothing, had identified the six dead Indians as from a band of Gros Ventre Indians. As for the two white men, according to their personals dug out from their saddle bags, was one Wayne La Due and the other was a William Hamilton, both employees from the suspected Hudson Bay Company. In fact, Hamilton was a Bourgeois for the Hudson Bay Company, from one of their forts located up on the northern reaches of the Wolf River according to the “Crown” papers carried in his saddle bags. A Hudson Bay trading post which was, according to Old Potts, about another long day’s ride to the northwest from where they now stood!
Old Potts went on to figuring aloud that the Hudson Bay men had probably trapped out the Wolf River area and had been casting their eyes further to the east along the Poplar River, when they received information from their now dead Indian consorts regarding the discovery of the four trappers’ cabin in the same area. De
ciding the trapping grounds along the nearby Poplar River belonged to their company, Hamilton probably figured they could eliminate such competition by stealing the American Fur Company’s trappers’ horses and traps (not realizing the men were Free Trappers and were not in the employ of that company), and then without any form of transportation, leave those trappers out on the vast and unforgiving plains in the dead of winter to die a slow but certain death.
The four trappers decided they would stay another night in camp to rest and then leave the following morning at the crack of dawn. However, aside from the fresh buffalo meat consumed and the warm campfire, that extra day’s stay to rest up turned problematic. The wolves had found the eight bodies out on the river’s ice and had made many great noises all night long, as they feasted and fought over the remains of the horse thieves. When they did, that made any planned sleep on the part of the trappers back at their camp, almost impossible...
Dawn the following morning, after another breakfast of fresh buffalo staked out over their fire, the men hit the trail back to their cabin. Trailing behind the four men were now all of their riding and pack animals that had been previously stolen, plus the eight riding and two packhorses from the Hudson Bay men. Men who by all accounts, were now more than likely wolf or bald eagle droppings along the Missouri River...