by Terry Grosz
The entire party moved to the outside, and Utes began running off to find things to trade for the Crow horses. The reorganization gave Ben a moment to whisper to Jacob in a conspiratorial hush. “You are one lucky son of a bitch!” he said. “You have no idea how close you came to getting us all killed and starting a war between Bull Bear and the rest of the rendezvous.”
Jacob gave him a quizzical look, not yet understanding. “When you give a gift to an Indian, especially a chief, he has to give you something in return of equal or greater value or he loses face. He would appear weak in front of his people. Rather than lose face, they will kill the gift bearer. This is what they mean by ‘Indian Giver.’ And boy, did you stumble in a pile of buffalo shit. This is the Bear Claw Clan, get it?”
Jacob rolled his eyes as the realization settled in. The grizzly bear was sacred to these people. To them, it was like a holy relic from the white man’s cross of Christ.
“Well, it got us all this gold,” Jacob said, sheepishly.
“You lucky son of a bitch!”
“Well, I won’t try my luck again. Next time, I’ll know better and I’ll stick with beads.”
The horses were soon quickly exchanged for tanned buffalo hides, baskets of eared com, bags of salt from the Great Salt Lake, a new and larger tepee for Singing Bird, and tanned bighorn sheep hides. From previous trades with Henry Fraeb, the Utes had numerous sacks of cornmeal, flour, pepper, pinto beans, horse blankets, horseshoes, powder, lead, trade beads, cones of sugar and coffee beans, which they traded for the trappers’ horses.
At last, there were only four horses left. The Utes had run out of items they freely wished to trade or that Jacob wanted, but they still wanted the remaining four horses, mainly because they had at one time belonged to the hated Crow. After much haggling and discussion, the crowd of Indians parted and two battered, white teenage boys were pushed forward.
The boys wore little clothing and looked not only half-starved but mistreated as well. They were about the same age, just become men. One had blue eyes and greasy blond hair, the other, brown in eyes and mane. A well of lost youth lay buried in both their eyes.
Jacob looked over at Martin. Disgust was written all over his face. A quick look at Ben showed the same degree of displeasure. It was alright to trade in nature’s abundance but human trade was not to their way of liking.
One Indian took a tree limb he had been holding and struck the closest boy because he was not walking as fast as he wanted. The lad, even though scared to death but still full of spunk, grabbed the limb from the offender’s hand and broke it in half. That got him a quick beating with a horse quirt until Jacob stepped in and stopped the whipping.
“That will be a fair trade! Four horses for the boys!” Jacob said, looking sharply at the Indian who had brought the boys forward from the crowd. Ben stepped forward and quickly translated Jacob’s harsh words into sign.
The Indian’s smile at such a deal for two sullen spawn from a white man showed the transaction more than met the Indian trader’s fancy. In sign language, he accepted the deal.
Ben handed the Indian the reins of the four horses and it was apparent that this Indian instantly became the talk of the tribe for coming out on the better side of the exchange.
Martin and Ben led the two young men away from the crowd of Northern Ute Indians before they changed their minds and wanted them back. Jacob now realized the tribe was out of other items his group might need. Because of that, and because he no longer had the stomach to trade with the savage Utes, he did not mention the guns taken from the dead Crows that they still had to trade.
That would be just all we need, he thought. The Utes wanting the rifles but having nothing left in which to trade. All he could foresee were hard feelings all around and maybe even violence. Thanking the chief for his hospitality, Jacob excused himself from the Ute Indian village.
When Jacob caught up with Martin, his longtime friend said to him, “These boys are in bad shape. I asked them for their names, but they only tremble in fear. I cannot get them to tell me where they came from or what happened that they became captives of the Utes.”
Jacob looked to the boys. They shirked in fear, afraid of what they would be forced to do as slaves of the Mountain Men.
“You are safe now,” Jacob told the boys. “We’ll get you fed and cleaned up.”
It was as if the boys did not understand English. They huddled together, pure fear in their faces.
“Martin, Ben, take these boys to Singing Bird. Have her feed them, and see if they’ll clean up. Then let’s meet at the other Indian camp over there and see what we can get for the Crow rifles.”
The boys shuffled off with Martin and Ben, while Jacob waited. He watched the boys go, then realized that he had a heavy parfleche full of gold to care for. He followed his friends, carrying the heavy bag. By the time he reached camp, the boys had already eaten voraciously and fallen fast asleep.
* * *
A band of Northern Cheyenne at the rendezvous that were friendly to the Lakota and Singing Bird’s band were given the opportunity to trade for the fusils taken from the Crows. In that trade, Jacob got a large cast-iron cooking pot, two Dutch ovens recently traded from Henry Fraeb, and one twenty-five pound keg of powder—the big Hawkens could kill anything but they ate powder in large gulps. He also acquired a dozen of the new Green River skinning knives, two military saddles—one of which had the blood of the trooper who had previously owned it still spewed across the pommel—several new Hudson’s Bay Company three-point winter coats, and a stack of beautifully tanned elk and grizzly bear hides as only the Cheyenne women could tan. Singing Bird in that trade also arranged for eight parfleches full of cake pemmican and ten pair of buffalo-hide winter moccasins, decorated with as fine a set of blue and red glass-bead work Jacob had ever seen.
By the time Jacob finished trading with the Cheyenne, Martin and company had re-loaded the packs of furs Henry Fraeb had broken down and examined earlier back onto their pack animals. Fraeb was standing by the pack string with a long face as the finishing touches were added to the ropes holding the packs in place. It was apparent he was somewhat downcast at losing his opportunity for such a large and quality acquisition.
“Jacob, wait. We need to talk. I want those furs and you know it.”
Jacob just nodded. He could sense Ben and Martin perking up their ears at some good old-fashioned horse trading between two white men now that Henry Fraeb’s bluff had been called.
“I will throw in two brand new .54-caliber Hawkens like the kind the three of you carry. I will also throw in some primers, nipples, nipple picks, and give you forty-five hundred in trade from the rest of my goods for those furs,” Fraeb quietly squeaked out.
“Only if you also include in that trade two additional twenty- five pound kegs of powder, ten pounds of those English glass beads of Singing Bird’s choosing, and a bolt of that red calico cloth she favors as well,” flatly stated Jacob.
Singing Bird had always been stoic and silent when the men were making deals, but now, this once, she squealed in delight. She collected herself quickly, though, and told Jacob “Thank you” in a quiet voice.
Jacob’s lingering pain dissolved for an instant. Singing Bird’s smile cheered him; for too long, she had been grieving Buffalo Calf’s brutal death. Jacob knew she liked the English beads, but for some reason, probably some Lakota “Way” he didn’t know about, Singing Bird had held back from asking for them. The smile was the first step to healing her heart, and hadn’t she been promised a full share of the profits? Beads were such a simple thing, but like the gold, the boys, the grizzly bear-claw necklace, Indians found a different value in things than white men did.
“Jacob, you are killing me,” exclaimed Fraeb, “but you have a deal.”
Jacob grinned and, with affirming glances from Ben, Martin and Singing Bird, nodded acceptance. With that bit of business done, the four men set about unloading the furs for the second time, this time for good.
In addition to the goods Henry Fraeb had thrown into the deal for their furs, Jacob, Martin, Ben and Singing Bird used their forty-five hundred in credit to replace their much needed goods and yet have some left over to trade with any friendly Indians they met on the trail over the next year: four additional twenty-five-pound kegs of gunpowder of the first quality, six North West fuzils that were in better shape than the Crow rifles traded to the Cheyenne, four square axes, a bolt of gray com- mon-quality cloth and twelve New House No. 4 beaver traps. Martin selected four pounds of thread, four gross of iron finger rings for trade, ten pounds of assorted red and blue glass beads and four pounds of vermilion. Ben selected twelve iron files because he was always losing the old ones, five gallons of fourth proof rum, two bolts of assorted colored ribbons for trade, eight dozen flints for their new trade rifles and twenty assorted iron buckles which he used in tack repairs. The group also selected twenty fire steels good for Indian trades, thirty pounds of first quality James River tobacco, thirty pounds of lead pigs for the Hawkens, a new coffee mill...and on it went.
When they finished with their shopping, as it were, the partners led their groaning horses and the two boys back to their camp with their rendezvous acquisitions. They had brought in high-quality furs and had done well in their trade with the fur company representative. They had paid high prices for their goods but out here in the wilderness that was the way it was and the goods received were of quality.
More importantly, they had come away from the rendezvous with their trade goods and had not blown it on women, gambling or liquor. This was something many of the rest of the trappers had not done. Most of the trappers had to leave their marks on the “paper” for the needed goods in order to work and survive the following year because they had lost the value of their furs on a few days’ foolishness at the rendezvous. In so doing, they found themselves in debt to the fur company before they had even trapped one beaver for the coming season. A common financial position most contract trappers found themselves in year after year, Ben remarked. This was a situation many never got out of until they were killed or they just disappeared into the mountains never to be seen or heard from again.
“However,” Ben chuckled, “many consider it a small price to pay to live in a land next to the hands and face of God.”
Last but not least, Jacob’s party had done well by the Indians even to the point that they now possessed at least sixty pounds of gold ingots as well. An item that could potentially lead to many comforts once they were worn out physically or the fur trade had passed them by in its trek into history, comforts in the form of land acquisitions for a farm or cattle ranch or just retirement in a town once that point in life had been reached.
And then there were the two rescued captives. Back at camp by the lake, Jacob took a long, hard look at the two kids he had acquired in the horse trade. Singing Bird was feeding them again and they were eating like they hadn’t seen a square meal in a month. In fact, they were pretty scrawny as well and covered with sores and bruises from being abused by the Utes.
When they had eaten their fill, Jacob sat the boys down around the campfire, with Ben and Martin standing alongside. He tried to unravel the mystery of their lives prior to their rather fortunate meeting.
“Where do you come from?” Jacob asked. “Do you have any family?”
The taller boy began blurting out some words. Something about being brothers from Ohio, settled on the Western Slope of the Rocky Mountains, a father and mother and three sisters, a raid by the Northern Ute that killed their parents and the other settlers and split their sisters up among other tribes, know not where...
That was all Jacob could make of the babble before the boy, and then his brother, broke down sobbing uncontrollably.
At that moment, Singing Bird told the men to pry no further. She took the boys to the lake and had them wash off the months of dirt and dried blood from their bodies. When they returned to the camp, she gathered up and provided two Hudson’s Bay Company blankets so they could cover themselves as they stood shivering by the lake. She took them back to her old tepee and told them it was their home now. There were plenty of sleeping furs inside and soon the two boys had cried themselves to sleep once more.
Walking over to Ben, Singing Bird told him in sign that she needed to erect her new tepee recently acquired from Henry Fraeb. Soon the men had it up and staked out so the wind would not blow it over, but having used the parts of at least twenty buffalo skins to construct the structure, being blown over was a minimal concern. Without a word, Singing Bird moved her remaining things into the new tepee, taking the fowling piece she now considered hers, a new bag of glass beads and a bolt of bright red cloth.
After the boys and Singing Bird went to bed, the men gathered around the parfleche full of golden ingots. Jacob spilled them out on the ground by the fire. Their gleam dancing in the fire light was almost devilish.
Where had they come from? How old were they? How many men had died before they were given up? These were just some of the many more questions swirling through Jacob’s mind. Jacob fingered through the ingots, then started dividing them into four piles. As it turned out, the numbers came out evenly.
Jacob pushed one pile towards Martin and another towards Ben. He said, “Those are your shares. I will take one share and give the other to Singing Bird. I suggest each of us hold on to these so when the beaver trade gives out or we get too old to continue trapping, we will have a grub or land stake in whatever we choose to do.”
The men looked at Jacob and heard words of wisdom. Soon each of them had hidden the golden ingots among their most cherished items. Jacob took Singing Bird’s share and placed it back in the parfleche. He walked over to her new tepee and placed her share in front of the entrance flap. He thought that he would explain in the morning. He headed for his bed and some much needed sleep. His old wounds received at the Big Sandy were still aching and to lay down and rest would help ease the pain.
The next day, Jacob, Ben and Martin returned to the rendezvous to pick up the rest of their trade goods. That included more kegs of powder, tins of primers and pigs of lead because those damn Hawkens shot through a lot of lead as well as powder. They purchased goods that would now be needed more than ever with the addition of the two boys to the flock, if that was their choosing. Always needed were whetstones because of the high breakage and loss rates. So, eight more whetstones were also added to their goods. That was followed with the addition of ten additional New House No. 4 beaver traps now that they anticipated the boys would become new members to the group. Additionally, new halter ropes, four new packsaddles, bits, halters, horseshoes and two pounds of horseshoe nails joined the increasing pile of goods. Lastly, two shovels, a package of heavy leather sewing needles, another coffee mill, tin plates, spoons and cups rounded out their needs. They loaded all those items on their four new packhorses from the Indian raid back on the Big Sandy and their own riding horses, then they slowly walked back to their camp.
When they arrived, they were surprised to see Jim Bridger and Hugh Glass asleep back in their old camp. Both were pretty hung-over but alive and well. They, too, had brought loaded pack animals back to camp with trade goods for the coming year. One look told the three that these men were in poor shape from too much whiskey and by the sounds of their snoring, lost to the world. Jacob, Ben and Martin went to their own camp and unloaded the packs off their animals so the mules could feed and not lose the trade items in the process. Bridger and Glass found solace in their beds for the rest of the evening, not moving a lick as they snored off a good drunk.
* * *
Bull Bear also found solace. He held the Great Bear necklace the White Man had traded him for the gold. He chuckled to the night breezes outside his tepee.
I have swindled the great white swindler. I am now rid of the gold that has caused my people much grief and harm. Little do they know the gold is cursed. And I did not lose face in front of my people, who have no understanding of why s
o many of us have died or have been mauled by the Great Bear, or why we have so little food.
Bull Bear placed the bear claws around his neck. Both the White Man and my people will believe it was a fair trade. This sacred necklace will keep us from harm, I know it, and with the cursed gold gone from my people, we will have plenty in moons to come.
The Ute chief remembered the day the cursed gold came into his possession. They had come upon a Spaniard holy man, with his tribe of weak-willed men digging in the Earth, stealing from her the gold metal that makes the White Men crazy. His warriors quickly killed all the rest, and only the holy man was left. Because Bull Bear spoke the Spaniard language, his people had brought the gold and the holy man to him.
“Why you dig from Mother Earth?” Bull Bear had asked. Instead of a reply, the Spaniard spit in his face and called him a spawn of the Diablo, no doubt an unholy spirit.
When Bull Bear told the holy man that he would be scalped and his skin cut from his body, left in the desert to be eaten by scorpions, the holy man showed much courage and began to sing a holy song in a strange language. Then, when he finished his song, he turned to Bull Bear and said, “This gold, may God curse it, and may he curse anyone who possesses it.” He spit again in Bull Bear’s face.
In rage, Bull Bear had cut the Spaniard holy man’s throat and left him to bleed, never to say another word.
The gold was cursed, though. All these years, my people suffered, but no more. Now, the Great Bear is with the people again, and no Diablo can best the medicine of the Great Bear. Bull Bear put his hand to the necklace and felt its spirit course through him. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he slept peacefully.
Chapter Sixteen
The Hunter Brothers