Samuel studied the sky, not sure the storm had passed.
“Some have moved under the cottonwoods.” Stromback pointed.
Samuel could make out the brown lumps huddled together, snow plastered to their backs, steam rising from their bodies.
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Not always. Cottonwoods are brittle. That snow will bring down a lot of limbs. I’ve lost critters under cottonwood limbs before.”
Drawing closer, Samuel could see broken limbs scattered about with animals among them. He decided there were not many places where the animals could go to get out of the storm. This country was barren of trees except along the gullies and miles distant toward the canyon rim.
“It’s better than the open,” Stromback conceded. “Here, let’s pull these poles and try to get those yearlings headed back this direction. I’m guessing we’ll get more snow by tonight.”
They headed up the shoulder to where they had driven the yearlings a few days earlier.
“We’ll check this draw and the next one. The upper one is where I had most of my trouble earlier.” Stromback pointed to a snow-covered bluff in the distance. “Animals trying to get grass where the wind had cleared off the snow slid into the river. Never seen anything like it in my life. That’s when I brought them down to the flats for feed.” He pulled his coat more tightly around him as a gust hit.
“Usually don’t need to worry about feeding them around here. Lam’tama, the Nez Perce call this country—‘the canyon of no snow.’ Except for this winter,” he said bitterly.
They crossed a small tributary that fed into Slate Creek and rounded the point, heading downriver. They had spotted no cattle.
“I’m hoping they’ve holed up in the next draw but not so badly that they’re trapped.”
They reached the next draw and paused. The canyon walls were rapidly disappearing behind a curtain of descending snow. Samuel glanced toward Stromback, hoping the man was noticing, but he gazed uphill, seemingly unaware.
Moments later, the curtain of blinding white hit. Samuel pulled his scarf more tightly about his nose and mouth, shivering. If they found any cattle holed up, they could do very little to get them moving. It was not as if they could tell them there was better shelter next door.
They snow paused, and they moved onward. Samuel felt wet and chilled. His fingers were numb. He began wondering how much more he could take. Finally, he paused and looked up to call out to Stromback. The man was peering downriver across the draw. Samuel caught sight of two men at work over a carcass lying in the snow. Another curtain of white advanced toward them.
“Indians,” Samuel whispered.
“Nez Perce,” Stromback said. “Sure looks like they got one of my beef.”
“What we gonna do?”
“Let them have it. I’ve learned if they’re taking one, things must be pretty bad.”
“What if they see us and come after us?”
“They’ve already seen us. At any rate, we pretty much have an unspoken agreement.”
“An agreement?”
The curtain of snow descended, masking the Indians. Moments later, the wind drove it hard against Samuel and Stromback. Samuel gasped for breath against the numbing cold.
“Come on, Samuel, nothing we can do out here. We better head in.”
Samuel urged the gray to turn and follow Stromback, who was now a dark blur fading in front of him. At least the wind was at Samuel’s back, but now it drove the snow underneath his clothing and down his neck, chilling him further. He shivered violently, his teeth chattering.
He lost sight of Stromback for a few moments and grew anxious. The gray trod onward, and Samuel had to trust that the animal knew where it was going. At last, they reached the shelter of the ranch yard. Snow and ice caked Samuel’s hat and covered his back. He dismounted and stomped to get it off. They stripped their gear and tossed hay down to the horses. Samuel was shivering uncontrollably by the time they got inside. Art and Rex were already there. Mrs. Stromback had fixed some coffee.
“Not much we can do in this, boys,” Stromback said. “Say a prayer we still have some stock standin’ by morning.”
Samuel was beginning to sense how serious the storm had become.
“Then we’d best be getting things together for the morning,” Art said.
Art and Rex rose and headed out toward the bunkhouse.
“You comin’, boy?” Rex asked.
Samuel was shivering, barely able to talk. “A-all right.”
Mrs. Stromback noticed. “Let him get out of his duds and warm up some.”
Samuel hesitated.
“Here ye be, lad. You stay and do as the missus says,” Jon Stromback agreed.
Relief flooded Samuel.
Soon he was sitting next to the fire wrapped in a large robe while his clothes dried, feeling a little foolish. He was not so sure it was a good thing. The Strombacks were treating him like some child, but he knew if his mother were here, she would have insisted on the same thing.
Stromback sat in his chair, smoking a pipe. “You surprised me today, Samuel. I pushed it pretty hard. Maybe more than what was smart.”
“Yes, sir. I figured you were concerned because of the last storm.”
“Sure, but a beef ain’t worth a man’s life.”
“Kind of like gold mining. Some things aren’t worth the risk. But it’s hard to know when to stop. The next shovelful might turn you rich.”
Stromback laughed. “Rich won’t happen with cattle. I just seek a good living for myself and my family. We’ve worked hard to build this place.”
“You lost a steer to the Indians.”
“It may have already been dead from the storm. Like I said, we have an unspoken agreement. The Nez Perce don’t bother me, and if they need a beef occasionally, I don’t mind.”
He let out a puff of smoke. “Do you know anything about the Nez Perce, Samuel?”
“Art said you bought your land from them, but the new treaty might be trouble. What happened?”
“Back in ’55 the government signed a treaty that established a reservation. It included the Wallowas to the west across the Snake, land south of us and up the Little Salmon for a ways, land to the east along the Salmon River for a ways, and land north across the Clearwater—a huge chunk of land.
“When gold was struck in Pierce and later at Florence, miners ignored the treaty and came looking for gold. Likewise, farmers began pushing into the Wallowas for good farm and ranch land. The government was pressured to remove the Indians, so they reduced the size of the reservation to about one-tenth its original size.”
“And not all the Nez Perce agreed. Art told me.”
“At least five bands of Nez Perce refused to sign the new treaty, especially Young Joseph and Chief White Bird. White Bird’s band is who we bought our land from. Those Nez Perce who did sign the new treaty really didn’t care because they’d still be living on their own lands and wouldn’t be moving.” Stromback laughed. “Sure is like me saying you can have my neighbor’s ranch.”
“Then I don’t blame Joseph or White Bird,” Samuel said. “Can’t we just leave them alone?”
“Too late for that. The land around Joseph is being settled and farmed. We have a couple communities on White Bird’s ancestral land, including Slate Creek. It’s always the same: people get nervous every time they see an Indian out hunting, and of course every time a horse or cow goes missing, the Indians get the blame, so here we call in the government to wet-nurse us.”
Stromback glanced at Samuel. “Trouble is, even if all the Nez Perce agreed to the new reservation, that’s not what they want. For certain, the government doesn’t care a lick about their ancestral lands. I know I wouldn’t want to give up where I lived and buried my kin. Why would they? And they look at life different than we do. They’re hunte
rs—not farmers or ranchers. They don’t want to sit in one place and rot.”
“Think there’ll be a war?”
“If we push them. Sure is what concerns me. Ever since Lewis and Clark came through along the Clearwater, the Nez Perce have been friendly to the whites. To my recollect, they’ve never lifted a rifle against us.”
“That’s good.”
“Good for us. They’re crack marksmen.”
Samuel shivered. His father had said something similar.
“If there be trouble, you’ll have a part in it.” Stromback eyed Samuel.
Samuel stared back.
“Yah, and so will I.” He laughed. “If you miners find enough gold in this country, then there will be more towns and ranching and supply communities throughout this region. Eventually, the government will be forced to push the Indians out.”
Samuel was not sure what to think.
“Just you remember this was all Nez Perce country. Still is to most of them. Here they come hunting and fishing, and sometimes take a beef, and we’re happy to let them. To them, it’ll always be their land. I’d advise you to remember that.”
“Yes, sir.” Samuel knew he would remember.
Mrs. Stromback came in and told him his clothes were dry. The three children spilled in as well. Mrs. Stromback had been keeping them at bay, but now Josef wanted to hear stories about Indians.
Later, Art and Rex joined them for dinner. Afterward, when the three returned to the bunkhouse, the wind had finally died down, and the snow had quit. Lying down, Samuel felt like lead, barely able to move.
“Reckon we’ll find some dead ones?” he asked.
“I’m sure we will.”
Chapter 10
THE SNOW SLOWLY MELTED, leaving drifts lingering in the shaded areas and draws. Rex and Samuel headed out toward the southeast corner to try to account for some missing stock. Stromback feared they had succumbed to the blizzard but also feared a mountain lion was taking its toll. Samuel carried a rifle loaned to him by Stromback in case they spotted the lion.
They worked the perimeter to a spot where it appeared some cattle had wandered beyond. After trailing their tracks for a few hours, Rex suggested they were seeing things. Certainly the tracks were not fresh. About that time, Samuel spotted a carcass. “Lion kill.”
Rex scouted about the kill for a moment. “I hate them cats, but you’ll never get a shot at one. They sense you comin’ and just disappear.”
Samuel glanced at the surrounding timber, scanning for the mountain lion, nerves on edge.
“Same as them eagles. They swoop down and take a calf right in front of ya,” Rex muttered. “Better to just lace this carcass with strychnine and kill them and anything else that comes to feed.” He laughed. “Did that once and got one of Stromback’s dogs, so he don’t do poison no more, but I say do it.”
Samuel thought about Roundup, although the dog never left the ranch. He decided he would rather try to shoot the cougars, but as Rex had pointed out, people rarely caught sight of them. Once a lion started feeding on cattle, it became a regular habit.
That night, Bonnie was home for dinner. Samuel was overjoyed but tried not to show it too much. She was more beautiful than he remembered—a glowing angel with an incredible smile. He found it difficult to concentrate while she politely talked about her stay in Lewiston. After dinner, Art nodded toward Samuel and convinced Rex to head back to the bunkhouse. Bonnie rose and began taking dishes to the kitchen. Samuel followed, offering to help, but Mrs. Stromback stopped him. “Thank you, but I can handle this. You two can sit for a bit and catch up on news.”
Samuel felt an incredible rush. “Th-thank you kindly,” he stammered. Bonnie glanced at him, a bright smile on her face.
They talked, being slightly cautious, knowing Mrs. Stromback was in the other room. Samuel tried to listen more than he talked. He loved Bonnie’s voice and how her cheeks dimpled when she smiled. He loved how the flickering kerosene lamplight danced in her eyes and across her golden hair, bringing out flashes of red.
He was almost oblivious when Mrs. Stromback brought in tea and joined them for a moment. Samuel continued to talk before he recognized that that was her signal for him to leave.
“Thank you kindly again for dinner, Mrs. Stromback, and thank you for tea.” He rose. “Thanks for sitting with me, Bonnie.”
“Oh my,” Mrs. Stromback suddenly said. “Josef and I intended to read. Good night, you two.”
“Good night,” Bonnie replied.
Samuel was surprised when Bonnie grabbed a lamp and followed him out the door. She whispered. “Don’t you worry, Samuel. That was my aunt’s way of telling me I could walk with you for a moment.”
“B-but …” Samuel began. His heart raced.
“It is proper,” she whispered. She took his hand and they walked toward the bunkhouse. “Trust me.”
Roundup padded after them. At the bridge, Bonnie held back, the dog nuzzling her for attention. She glanced toward the starlit sky, looking in no particular direction, rubbing Roundup’s ears. “I am much happier here than trying to learn music.”
“You sing really well. It would be a shame not to hear you sing.” Samuel petted the dog as well, allowing his hand to overlap Bonnie’s. She did not pull away.
“I believe I am capable of singing without formal lessons,” she said with slight disdain.
“That’s what your mother wanted.”
Bonnie arched her eyes. “Aunt Rebecca told you?”
Samuel nodded.
She turned back, looking away. “I miss my mother. She always wanted me to sing and play the piano. She was magical at the piano. I shall never be like her. Oh, I like playing, but it is not my calling.”
“That’s okay. You’ll honor her with your singing, just the way you are,” Samuel said sincerely. “She understands that now.”
“Do you really think so?” Bonnie turned, smiling. She peered toward the north where the stars seemed brightest. “Is it not beautiful here?”
Samuel took the hint. “Yes. You truly live on a wonderful ranch.” He felt a bit awkward, knowing she wanted him to say something else.
Impulsively he pulled her to himself, looked into her eyes, and whispered. “Bonnie, you know what’s beautiful? You are.” He meant it with every fiber of his body. “I-I’ve known so from the first I saw you at Christmas services.”
She brushed her fingers across his lips. “And Samuel, you are so handsome.”
Samuel felt weak. How could this be happening?
“Bonnie?”
Her eyes sparkled from the dancing lamplight.
“I-I like you a lot. I want you to know that, and I’d like to know you better. You’re the most wonderful person that’s happened to me.”
She was quiet.
Samuel raced on. “It might not work, you know.”
She frowned.
“I mean … I gotta be leaving come this summer. I have an obligation to my family.”
A hurt flashed through her eyes. “Sh, Samuel. You never know what may be possible.”
It dawned on Samuel that she had thought of this. He heard the ranch door open. Roundup took off, heading toward the door.
“Oops,” he whispered. “Good night, I guess.”
“Good night, Samuel.” She blew a small kiss and flashed a smile.
Samuel felt his heart beating wildly as he watched Bonnie return to the house. He remained watching until the light from the doorway winked out.
The following day, Samuel rode out with Rex again, intending to account for the still-missing cows. He rode Spooky and was glad for it. The gray was a good cow pony, but Spooky seemed to understand Samuel and anticipate what he wanted. Samuel had decided the horse had a good head for avoiding trouble, except for that one rattlesnake last year.
They had hardly r
eached the perimeter of the lower fields when Rex turned to him and spat, “I seen you two last night when Bonnie got back. Don’t lie to me and tell me I didn’t.”
“What’s there to lie about?”
“I seen you and Bonnie. You stay away from her. She and I are spoken.”
“How can it be you’re spoken? The Strombacks haven’t said.” Samuel felt his gut wrench.
“That’s exactly what I mean. Mr. Stromback knows about us; we’re just waitin’ our time. You lay another finger on her, and you and I will settle.” His voice was ice.
Samuel felt his anger rising but said nothing. He couldn’t care less what Rex thought.
They returned to following several sets of cattle tracks winding uphill until they reached a small saddle. The tracks headed down the other side, following a rapidly flowing stream. Ice floes and snowdrifts still filled it in places. They followed it to where another stream entered from the east and where the tracks turned upward.
Rex paused. “Them old cows might head uphill to a spring about a mile from here, but sometimes they wander down this here gully back to the river.” Rex glanced uphill. “I’ll follow them that’s headed uphill. You take them that’s headed down.”
Samuel could see the tracks heading uphill but nothing fresh heading down, except some deer tracks. “Those are deer tracks, heading down.”
“Hell, boy, take a look. There’s cow tracks under them deer tracks. Take my word. They’ll show clear in a bit.”
Samuel wanted to believe Rex, but he saw little sign. Maybe Rex was right and farther down they would show.
“It’s steep, but I’ve chased them down through there lots a times. You come right out on the trail next to the river. Unless you don’t think you can manage,” Rex taunted. He turned his horse toward the gully, as if to do the job himself.
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