Back in camp, Runnin’ Wolf and Raven Wing were already there, and Runnin’ Wolf was wearin’ a new set of buckskins as well. He just smiled when he saw me and said, “Looks like they had all been busy.”
It was cloudin’ up the next mornin’ as we headed out, and by the time we reached Black’s Fork, it had started to rain. Even a summer rain out here in the Rocky Mountains gets mighty cold, and by the time we stopped, we were all ’bout frozen. While me and Runnin’ Wolf took care of the stock, the women put up the teepee and got a fire goin’ inside, and we all had to hang our clothes high in the teepee to get them to dry.
Next mornin’ everything was mighty wet, but the sky was clearin’, and it looked like the sun would be out in another hour or two. We let the packs and teepee dry out for a while ’fore we started to load, and by the time we were on the trail, there was still a cold bite to the air, but it was turnin’ into a right nice day.
We made pretty good time as we traveled the now very familiar country of Black’s Fork, and by late afternoon, we had come off the sage flats and into the grassy meadow country. When we stopped for the day, I figured we would be home by midday tomorrow. There were ripe berries all along the stream now, and we all spent the evenin’ pickin’ them. Shinin’ Star said we would need another bear or two for the grease, but I didn’t think that would be hard to get. We slept out under the stars that night, and it was gettin’ right chilly by mornin’. These two women, one on each side of me, sure felt good.
By late mornin’ the next day, we could see the hill where we had buried Sees Far, and it was just a few minutes later, we rode into the yard of the dugout. Jimbo was runnin’ all over the place, markin’ his territory all over again, and even Ol’ Red let out a bray that told the whole world he was back. We stripped the packs off all the horses and turned most of the horses loose out in the meadow. The grass was dry, but it was up past their knees. We put the saddle horses in the corral in case we needed them in a hurry and then went to work storin’ all our supplies.
The smokehouse wasn’t big enough to handle all the dried buffalo we had brought back, so a lot of it went in the dugout. We had saved what looked like miles of buffalo intestines for casings for the pemmican the women planned on makin’. All this and the dried meat all had to be hung up off the ground. The dugout still had a bad musky smell, and I started a fire in the fireplace and blocked the door wide open to help with the smell. I walked to both caches, and neither had been touched. When I came back down from the hill, the teepee was up, and a fire was goin’ in the outside fire pit.
That big cookin’ pot had become a major part of makin’ our meals, and I wished I got another of them at Rendezvous. But right now, I could a smell a stew cookin’, and Sun Flower was showin’ Shinin’ Star how to make the biscuits.
The next mornin’ me and Runnin’ Wolf went out with the axes and found a couple of dozen new lodge poles and cut them down, limbed each one, and tied them on the horses to drag back to camp. When we got there, the women had several buffalo hides laid out, fittin’ them together, makin’ a new lodge skin. Me and Runnin’ Wolf tied three of the new poles together at the top and stood up the main triangle. Raven Wing came over and enlarged it and said, “This will be a big lodge, so Grizzly Killer won’t need to stoop over in it.”
It took all of that day and most of the next with all three women sewin’ those hides together, and when they got done, they had used fourteen full hides. They made a dye out of charcoal and berry juice, and Shinin’ Star spent another two days paintin’ a beautiful big grizzly on the side of this new teepee and a wolf on the side of the older one.
There was a spot on the ridge just above the dugout that you could see the dugout, the meadow, and the stream lined with willows, and just as the sun was settin’, I walked up there. I just stood there and looked over this spot and remembered last year when me and Pa had first found it, how Pa had said it would make a great place to spend the winter. I thought ’bout all we had done together gettin’ ready for winter and then of how it all changed that day, trappin’ up on the creek I now thought of as Grizzly Creek when that ol’ grizzly had killed Pa. I thought of gettin’ ready for winter then by myself and the awful alone and helpless feelin’ when I’d lost the mules and horses to the Shoshones and the feelin’ of salvation when I heard Ol’ Red bray and saw him comin’ back across the stream home. I remembered findin’ Jimbo in that abandoned Shoshone camp and how his company had made the long, hard winter so much easier.
I looked at Sun Flower and Shinin’ Star there by the fire and Runnin’ Wolf and Raven Wing still unloadin’ packs and storin’ the different items. I thought of all that had happened in the time since me and Pa had left home, with all the fights and the killin’, with Pa bein’ buried here in these mountains. I had also found love, love of this wild, rugged, and yet wonderful land, love of two beautiful women, and the love of good friends.
I sat down there in this little spot, just watchin’ the settin’ sun turn the sky into the most colorful picture you could imagine, from deep purples to the most brilliant reds, yellows, oranges, and every color in between. I lay back and closed my eyes with the thoughts of the last year still goin’ through my mind. Jimbo was lyin’ right there by my side, and I felt like I was home and safe. Just then I heard a noise behind me and sat up to look just as a huge grizzly came out of the trees only a few yards from me. As I turned around to bring my rifle to bear, the grizzly stood up on his hind legs, and right before my eyes, he changed into my pa. I staggered back and tripped over Jimbo, who hadn’t moved or made a sound. Pa chuckled and said, “Easy boy,” and he walked up to me, and we hugged. We sat and talked ’bout the last year, and he told me how proud he and Ma were of me. He told me to take care of my family, that I had much to accomplish in this life and I couldn’t do it alone, that I had made both good friends and powerful enemies. He told me I had learned well the lessons of the wilderness, but he had neglected to teach me of the treachery of men. He stood and said he had to get back to Ma and started to walk away. Just before he entered the trees from which he had come, he turned and looked at me and then down toward the dugout and said, “Beware of the one on the spotted horse.” Just as I was askin’ what he meant, he stepped behind the pine and was gone.
I felt Jimbo’s nose and tongue on my cheek and opened my eyes. I looked around and realized I had been dreamin’, but never before had a dream seemed so real. The light was just ’bout gone now. I was lookin’ at the pine the grizzly had come from and where Pa had disappeared. I got up and walked over to that tree, and in the soft ground around the tree were fresh tracks of a huge grizzly. A chill shot down my back, and I thought of the wolf tracks from when Runnin’ Wolf was hurt.
As I walked back down the hill to Sun Flower and Shinin’ Star, I felt a warm feelin’ and somehow I knew deep down in my heart that Pa was still watchin’ over me. I didn’t know what he meant by his warnin’, but I knew I would be watchin’ for anyone ridin’ a spotted horse.
THE END
A Look at Grizzly Killer: Under The Blood Moon
In 1828 few white men had seen the Rocky Mountains, those that had were the rugged few we call Mountain Men. Zach Connors was one of the best, known to the Indians as Grizzly Killer. He was both feared and respected thoughout the Rocky’s. Along with his dog Jimbo, Running Wolf his Ute partner and their wives they travel to Rendezvous, where they battle the dredded Blackfeet and Zach fights for both justice and honor. After, they come face to face with a man eating grizzly, and confront those seeking revenge for the justice he dealt. All the while living their lives among the towering peaks in the wild and unfiorgiving wilderness of the spectacular Rocky Mountains.
Available soon from Lane R Warenski and Wolfpack Publishing
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Lane R Warenski
About the Author
Lane R Warenski lives in a log home in Duchesne County, Utah, where he has an unrestricted view of the highest peaks in the mighty Uinta Mountains. He was raised being proud of his pioneer heritage and with a deep love and respect of the outdoors. Ever since childhood, following his father, Warenski has hunted, fished, and camped the mountains of the West. Whether it was the daily journals of William Ashley and Jedediah Smith or the fictional stories written by the great storytellers like Louis L’Amour and Terry C. Johnston, throughout his life, Warenski loves reading the history of the first explorers that came west, most of whom never dreamed they were opening this wild and rugged land to the pioneers and settlers that followed.
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