by Terry Grosz
After a while, Jacob felt and realized they were now under scrutiny from many eyes hidden in the forest. He shifted uncomfortably under the heavy white buffalo cape and waited. Then from the north end of the meadow emerging from the trees came what appeared to be the whole damned tribe. They approached quietly at first and then, as they got closer, the Indians started buzzing with wonder and excitement. Jacob and Martin smiled at each other as they noticed many horses carrying furs.
Finally, a distinguished looking warrior rode up to Jacob in all his finery, all the while staring at the white buffalo cape. Without a word he rode alongside Jacob, boldly reached out and touched the cape. Then he rode over to Martin and did the same. With that, a sound of wonder rose from the hundred or so Indians gathered behind him in the meadow.
In sign, the apparent chief of the band asked Jacob, “Are you the one with all the powers from Big Medicine and do you have the White Man’s items to trade?”
Jacob signed “Both my friend and I wear the sacred capes and we will trade if you and your people desire.”
The chief turned to his people and said something in Arapaho. Those with pack animals loaded with furs moved forward.
Jacob and Martin dismounted and began laying out on a buffalo robe—one decorated with pieces of the white buffalo hide that was left over from the capes—their goods to trade. At first, no one wanted to approach the buffalo robe with pieces of white buffalo hide laid on it. Martin was the first to break the ice; he walked over and took the hand of a young Arapaho boy. Martin walked him back to the trade goods, reached down and took a piece of white buffalo hide to let him touch it. The young boy got a huge grin, then ran back into the comfort of the tribe. He at once was accosted by dozens of other Indians wanting to touch him. And with that simple gesture, the trading began.
For the next hour, Jacob and Martin traded their items for a small mountain of furs. Buffalo robes, river otter, gray fox, deer, beaver and elk made up the bulk of the trades. The pelts traded were not only rich looking but done with a quality the men had never seen previously except for those tanned by Cheyenne women. However, with each trade, the Arapaho trader had to reverently touch the buffalo capes worn by Jacob and Martin. It was a series of moving moments for not only the spiritual Arapaho but Jacob and Martin as well.
When the trading was done, the chief rode up to Jacob and Martin once again. He signed that Jacob and Martin were also Big Medicine. “You are welcome in the valley and will not be disturbed by any of my people.”
Jacob could hardly believe their luck. A free pass from Indian danger in the trapping Garden of Eden. Receiving safe passage was almost too hard to believe.
Jacob then signed, “Big Medicine is pleased with your words and if your people ever need help, they are to call on the two trappers for whatever is needed.”
The chief signed his appreciation, turned and rode away. With him went the rest of the tribe but not without a lot of backward glances at the two men wearing the sign of Big Medicine.
Throughout that fall and early winter, Jacob and Martin hardly looked over their shoulders for sign of hostile Indians. When they did see the Arapaho hunting parties, they waved in a friendly manner. The waves of friendship were returned and then the Indians moved on as if still respective of the powers of Big Medicine.
Freeze-up found the two men more than satisfied with their trapping results. Between the trapping and trading with the Indians, they had over two hundred beaver skins, thirty buffalo hides, and another forty furs from the gray fox, mule deer, river otter, pine marten and elk. And yet, the spring trapping season of 1833 was still ahead of them.
One cold winter morning, Jacob and Martin oversaw a herd of buffalo from downwind that were unaware of their presence. Just as they were getting ready to kill a number of them for some fresh meat, they became aware of the sounds of many horses’ hooves quietly coming up behind them. Turning, they observed about twenty mounted Arapaho warriors with women and horse-drawn travois moving up towards them. It was obvious they had been hunting buffalo as well. Jacob dropped back down the ridge to hide them from the quietly feeding buffalo.
Jacob signed to the leader of the party. “If you wish, my friend and I will kill some buffalo for our Arapaho friends. We have long rifles and can kill much more easily than you can with your flintlocks. Big Medicine has asked that we do this for our friends who are sharing the valley with us.”
An instant smile crossed the face of Many Arrows Flying, the leader of the hunting party, and he agreed. With that and the Indians quietly sitting on their horses below the ridgeline, Jacob and Martin set to work. Boom-boom—boom-boom went the big Hawkens, and four cow buffalo dropped to the beat. They hurriedly reloaded all four rifles out of sight from the herd, and quickly dropped another four cows.
Within a short period of time, thirty buffalo from a “stand” graced the lightly snow-covered sagebrush flats.
Jacob agreed with Martin that there was more than enough meat for all, so they rose from their place of concealment, turned and faced the Indians as the buffalo thundered out of sight from the now-realized danger. Raising his hand, Jacob gestured for the hunting party to come forth and share the meat. That they did for the next four hours. Knives flew and soon the travois of Arapaho and trappers alike fairly sagged under the weight of the steaming fresh meat. There was much excited talk as they readied their horses to return, about thirty shots being fired and thirty buffalo lying on the ground. Truly there was Big Medicine in the two men.
The two hunting parties went their separate ways with a friendly wave of hands. Jacob and Martin rode to their cabin and the Arapaho rode to their campsite in the forested meadows along Willow Creek, some two miles distant. Jacob and Martin had a goodly share of fresh buffalo and the Arapaho had a hoard of meat that they acquired without firing a shot.
Come the spring of 1833, the two men went about their business of eradicating the beaver along the Michigan and Illinois Rivers. Soon they added another one hundred and sixty-seven beaver pelts to their hoard, and the beaver ponds in many areas became still and motionless except for the rise of a brook trout or from the flush of a pair of mallard ducks.
Chapter Twenty-One
The 1833 Rendezvous
Much work was now needed by the two men making ready for the long trek north to the Green River Valley and the July rendezvous. Soon the furs were tightly packed, horses shod, and equipment repaired. The weather for travel turned pleasant. Rising before daylight on the given day to begin their trek soon found Jacob and Martin well on their way north. But before they left, Jacob took the time to carve his and Martin’s name into the ridgepole of the cabin.
Four packhorses strung out behind each man, all heavily loaded with furs and equipment from the past trapping season. Both men had a lot to be pleased with and their smiles signaled that they were happy to be on the trail once again. Retracing their steps from the previous summer was made easier with the good weather and lack of hostile Indians to cause concern. However, it seemed every afternoon the skies would cloud up with black and violent thunderstorms, then the skies would open up and the rains would descend upon them. To avoid the danger of being struck by lightning on the open sagebrush flats, the men headed for the nearest small draw or a dry creek bottom and laid up until the worst part of the storm had passed. Soon the storms would move on and then the sage and other plants would come forth with many great fresh smells as only the cool high desert can produce. All of this made the life of a Mountain Man that much more memorable. At least for those who lived to enjoy it.
The two men traveled west up over the Continental Divide and headed for the Yampa River. Once on the Yampa, they headed north until they hit the Green River. Continuing northwest, they finally arrived in the Green River Valley, site of the 1833 rendezvous. Falling in with several other parties of trappers also heading to the rendezvous, they eventually ended up where the Green River and Horse Creek intersected. Several miles distant was a place euphemistically cal
led Fort Bonneville, comprised of nothing more than a few log breastworks and some worse- for-wear log cabins. But it was there the American Fur Company and the Rocky Mountain Fur Company had both set up shop during that first week in July. However, because of the competition and the bad blood that soon followed, the Rocky Mountain Fur Company moved their location to the banks of the Green River five miles above the mouth of Horse Creek. The American Fur Company on the other hand, moved its operations approximately five miles downstream to where the Green River intersected with Horse Creek. That left the much smaller St. Louis Fur Company remaining at Fort Bonneville.
Jacob and Martin set up their camp near the willows and under the cottonwoods on Horse Creek near its confluence with the Green. There were about one hundred trappers camped in the area with about another one to two hundred friendly Indians and their tepees. That number of Indians fluctuated daily, especially with the arrival and departures of nearby Snake Indians coming down from the mountains to trade as well. Soon the usual drinking, sporting events, squaw trading, shooting matches, food gorging and rampant hell raising spun its web around the traders on both sides of the table.
Jacob and Martin spent their time visiting with old friends like Jim Bridger and making new ones like those of Tom and Albert Potts. Both Potts brothers had been free trappers since 1820. They knew the country like the back of their hands and seemed to take a real liking to the younger Jacob and Martin. The four new friends compared tales and drank the vile drink the trappers called, “Trapper’s Topknot Remover.” Jacob and Martin also questioned those who had been to the new beaver trapping grounds to the north, west and south about the trapping potentials and friendliness of the local Indians.
Then came time to trade their pelts but a surprise was in store for the men. After talking with representatives from the American Fur Company and the Rocky Mountain Fur Company, Jacob and Martin found that their buyers were downgrading almost every pelt and their trade item prices were higher than a dog’s back in a three-way cat fight. Plus their members were advising that beaver plews were being replaced by silk top hats in the world of fashion, even though beaver-skin hats had been around and in fashion since 1600. It seemed in just a short period of time, beaver which had once sold in the eastern markets and Europe for up to six dollars a pound—a beaver skin properly processed weighed approximately one-and-a-half pounds—were now going for less than three dollars per pound. As a result, the fur companies advised they couldn’t pay top prices like they had in years past. Ignoring that kind of depressing talk but keeping the silk top hat issue in the backs of their minds, the two men moved on to the St. Louis Fur Company hoping they would do better in their trades.
Jacob and Martin eventually contracted with the fur buyers from that company. Here the buyers were not quite as crooked and the needed trade items not as high priced. They were also seemingly unaware the beaver fur market had totally bottomed out, having left St. Louis before that information had arrived from the eastern markets.
Another surprise awaited the men as well. Both noticed that the trade in their buffalo robes they had traded from the Arapaho Indians brought even higher profits than those received for their beaver. This was something that gave both men pause when it came to thinking about their futures in the fur business. In the ensuing trades, Jacob and Martin did very well, so much so, that they more than replenished their needed items. In addition, they were able to acquire more trade goods useful for dealing with the Indians back on the trapping grounds. With their trades out of the way, the men had even more time to relax and enjoy their times and friends at the rendezvous.
But the good times were cut short by a rare and deadly incident that would likely be talked about for years afterwards. As was usual, many of the trappers drank more than they should have. Several of those men who had passed out along the fringes of the crowd found themselves subsequently bitten by a lone wolf frequenting the rendezvous. Then the wolf became more emboldened, approaching and biting several more trappers right in camp. This rare activity went on for about three days until the men realized the wolf was rabid and shot him. By then, over a dozen men had been bitten. Then those bitten began to show the signs of contracting rabies. Some growled and barked while others foamed at their mouths and couldn’t speak. Several jumped off their horses while on hunting trips, foaming at the mouth and barking at their companions. Most affected trappers simply ran off into the timber and were never seen again. This event pretty much shut down the spirit and fun of the rendezvous.
Sitting in camp one morning, Jacob and Martin repaired their old moccasins and made several pairs each of new ones. That was soon followed with repairing the packsaddles, horseshoeing and the making of a pile of pistol and rifle bullets.
“Hello the camp,” bellowed a familiar voice.
Both Martin and Jacob stood up in order to welcome their new friends. Tom Potts rode into camp with his brother, Albert, and both quickly dismounted. After greetings all around, Tom asked if they had anything good to eat.
“Nothing but a little bit of pronghorn,” said Martin.
“Jus’ so happens we have two hinds of an elk Albert shot a piece back. If you was to build a roaring hot fire, we could have some venison roasting on them there cooking sticks in short order,” advised Tom with a grin of anticipation.
Soon the fire was going and slabs of fresh elk were roasting merrily away on the green cut willow sticks.
“Where the two of yer agoin’ this fall?” asked Tom.
“Haven’t decided yet,” advised Martin “but somewheres north from here maybe.”
“That be good,” said Tom as he moved his willow stick holding the meat so it would be closer to the fire.
“Al and me have decided maybe to go north into the Hoback this go around. Or maybe even back into the west side of the Wind Rivers where the beaver are plentiful and the trappers aren’t. Either way, that will put us close to next year’s rendezvous.”
“We trapped the Bighorn Mountains several years ago and did real good,” advised Jacob.
“Ran into a little trouble with the Blackfoot but the risks were worth it,” said Martin through a mouthful of sizzling hot elk meat.
Soon all the talk as to where to go was lost in the noises men make when they are hungry and eating something they liked. After finishing off the first round of roasted meat, more was sticked for roasting. While waiting for that to cook, the talk once again turned to trapping in the coming fall and winter season.
“Maybe the Hoback be too close,” mumbled Tom, “and too full of our brethren.” Al nodded thoughtfully at his brother’s statement.
“What say the four of us hook up and go to the Wind Rivers for the new season? We know several places where the trapping is good and the competition will be little and only from the Snake Indians,” suggested Tom.
“With the four of us working that area, maybe the Blackfoot will leave us alone and we could make a good haul,” advised Al as he picked up on Tom’s suggestion and looked all around the group for support.
“That would be fine with me,” said Jacob.
“What do you think?” he asked Martin, who was wrestling with a gob of meat too big and hot for his mouth.
“Ummph,” said Martin as he finally was able to wolf down the slab of hot meat. “Sounds good to me. Always could use the extra rifles. Not because of the Snake Indians since they have always been friendly, but them damn Blackfoot and their killing cousins the Gros Ventre are worrisome when they decide to venture south on their raids. They make a man’s blood run cold if they can approach a body whisper close,” continued Martin.
The other three men nodded in agreement over Martin’s historically wise words.
“Them Blackfoot and their friends can be a problem,” said Tom thoughtfully. “But, the four of us are well-armed with not only the new Hawkens but all of us have extra rifles as well. That will put a lot of lead in the air with a passel of death at the other end should the need arise and we have a chance t
o shoot first. Then throw into that fracas our eight pistols at close range and we could put a hurt on anyone messin’ with us.” Tom had a serious tenor of meaning coming into his voice.
“Then is it decided?” asked Al. “If so, we can hook up and form our own fur brigade and trap the hell out of them Wind Rivers and their beaver,” he continued with gaining enthusiasm.
There was a short pause and then all the men nodded in agreement. It was now decided that the four of them would sally forth to the western side of the Wind River Mountains and trap until the 1834 rendezvous—a rendezvous that according to Tom who had overheard the traders, would be on Ham’s Fork of the Green. The next hour was then spent in less talk and more eating of the elk until all the eatings had been consumed with great relish.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Potts Brothers, Snake Sisters
Two days after the end of the 1833 rendezvous, the four trappers were strung out with their mounts and pack strings heading for the Wind River Mountain Range. Since Tom knew the way to the trapping spot he had in mind, he led the band north up along the Green River until they reached the point where Beaver Creek joins the Green. There he turned the group east until they reached a large, twelve-mile-long lake. When they located a sheltered valley in between two long, heavily timbered ridges, the company drew to a stop.
Jacob’s practiced eye quickly noticed an abundance of water and enough high-mountain grasses in the nearby meadow for their horses. Looking further, Jacob not only noticed that the location would provide shelter from the howling northwest winter winds but protection from prying eyes as well. There was also an abundance of firewood nearby and the beaver waters they had recently crossed were within spitting distance from where they now sat. A glance over at Martin and Al showed the same thoughts being calculated.