Ride the High Range

by Charles G. West

  “Damn the luck,” Johnny whispered to Jim. “Cheyenne don’t like Crows and vice versa.”

  “I don’t see but six,” Jim said.

  Johnny shook his head. “There’s bound to be some more of ’em hidin’ back at the mouth of that draw, waitin’ to box them antelope in.”

  Jim was still reluctant to turn tail and run, and go back with no meat. He watched the Cheyenne hunters for a few minutes longer while they finished their fence. When it was done, and the hunters found places to hide on either side, he said, “That little ol’ fence ain’t gonna stop ’em. My horse can jump that fence.”

  “They could jump it all right,” Johnny patiently explained, “but they won’t. Antelopes is peculiar that way. They won’t jump over anythin’. They’ll turn away, try to go around, or go back the way they came. All them Cheyenne have to do is set there and shoot ’em, and they’ll have some more of their friends comin’ up behind to keep ’em in a box.” He shook his head again and said, “That’s what we was gonna do.”

  Jim looked over at Deer Foot and White Fox. Their anger was clearly evident in their faces as they watched their enemies preparing to slaughter the unsuspecting antelope. As Johnny had told him, this was considered Crow country and he was surprised to find a Cheyenne hunting party this close to Fort Laramie. Watching the two Crow warriors talking quietly together, he wondered if they were contemplating an attack on the Cheyenne hunters. That might prove to be a mistake without knowing how well the Cheyenne were armed and how many more were waiting at the mouth of the canyon.

  Maybe there’s a better way to look at this thing, he thought, after studying the situation for a few moments more. He moved over next to Johnny. “I’m thinkin’ we’ve got a good chance to get the meat we came after and maybe get some horses, too.” His comment captured Johnny’s attention right away. Hearing his remark, White Fox and Deer Foot moved over closer to hear his proposal. Jim continued. “If the three of you can work your way down closer to the bottom and stay hid, I’ll circle around the base of that hill where their horses are tied. When they start killin’ the antelope, I’ll take off with their horses. Unless I miss my guess, they’ll sure as hell go after me or they’ll be on foot. Might give the three of you time to throw some of those carcasses on your horses and skedaddle before their friends know what’s happenin’.”

  “That’s the craziest plan I ever heard of,” Johnny responded. “It just might work.” It was unnecessary to ask the two Crows what they thought. The satisfaction it would bring from humiliating their enemy was written on both faces. “Maybe one of us oughta go after the horses with you,” Johnny said.

  “You’re gonna need all three of you to get that meat loaded in a hurry before the other Cheyennes find out what’s goin’ on,” Jim said. “Besides, I’ve been studying how they’ve got those ponies tied—same way the cavalry does it. They tied a hitchin’ rope between two trees and tied the reins to it. All I’ve gotta do is untie that rope and lead the whole bunch outta there.” While Johnny thought it over, Jim added, “Course, if they’ve got somebody watchin’ the horses, I might have to run like hell, and you fellers would have to watch out for your own asses. If we pull it off, I’ll meet you back where we crossed the river.”

  Johnny could think of no reason to object to the plan, and the Crows were eager to implement it, so Jim made his way back down the ridge to his horse, then proceeded to the bottom of the hill. He got in the saddle then and rode away from the draw until he had gone far enough to circle back to the other side. He felt secure in the speculation that the Cheyenne party would not have posted a lookout at the top of the ridge to watch the plain behind their antelope trap.

  Completing his circle, he walked the buckskin slowly up through the cottonwoods by the creek until reaching a point some fifty yards upstream from the Indian ponies. There he waited for the show to begin. He didn’t have to wait long. From his hiding place, he could not see the pen the Indians had erected, so when he heard the animals stampeding into the canyon, he moved closer just as the shooting began. He had harbored some doubts when Johnny said the antelope would not jump the barrier, but the half-pint was right. The forward animals refused to jump the brush fence, and the Cheyenne hunters were shooting them as fast as they could pull their triggers or notch another arrow. In a way, it was a somewhat sickening sight for a skilled hunter like Jim Moran, but he understood the object was to acquire as much meat as possible.

  With the noise of the slaughter ringing through the trees, Jim led the buckskin slowly toward the picket line of horses. So far, he could see no sign of a guard. He could assume that all six were participating in the slaughter. When he reached the line of ponies, he could clearly see the Indians busy in their killing, oblivious of his actions behind them. Speaking low in an effort to calm the horses already nervous from the shooting, he untied one end of the rope, then the other. With an eye constantly on the slaughter, he tied the ends of the rope together and led the whole bunch back to his horse. They followed obediently, satisfied to put the noise of the shooting behind them. In truth, he had not been sure that the ponies could be led on one rope, but they continued to follow along behind the buckskin, bumping and jostling together as he guided them across the creek.

  He had figured the sound of the horses splashing through the water would alert the Cheyenne at the fence, but the sound was drowned out by the noise of the slaughter. To be heard was essential to his plan, so he drew his revolver and fired a couple of shots in the air. It was enough to catch the attention of one of the Indians, and when he saw what was happening, he cried out in anger. In a matter of seconds, all six were screaming their fury and running after their horses. Although he could hear the distinctive snap of rifle slugs as they zipped through the air, he held the horses to a lope, hoping to lure the Indians farther out on the prairie and give Johnny and the Crows more time to steal the meat. When he had worn the last Cheyenne runner out, he turned his little herd of horses back toward the southeast and the North Platte River. His part of the raid was successful. Now he wondered how Johnny had fared.

  It was early evening by the time the party joined up at the river. The stolen ponies were drinking at the water′s edge when Johnny and the two jubilant Crows showed up with an antelope carcass draped before each rider and two each riding on the two packhorses they had brought. Their arrival was accompanied by shouts of triumph and glee when they saw that Jim had managed to get away with all twelve horses.

  “Hot damn!” Johnny exclaimed as he shoved the carcass off his horse and dismounted. “That was slick as owl shit, partner!” White Fox and Deer Foot gathered around to pat Jim on the shoulder, their faces beaming with their accomplishment. The confiscation of the meat and horses was a great feat in itself, but the added satisfaction of the humiliation afforded their enemy was almost equal in importance. “We got down there in a hurry when they chased after their horses,” Johnny continued. “And we didn’t waste no time.”

  “What about the other Cheyenne,” Jim asked, “the ones chasing the antelope into the trap?”

  “They were late to the party,” Johnny replied, chuckling. “There warn’t but two of ’em, and we were loaded and gone by the time they got there.” He enjoyed another chuckle before commenting, “You know, that little trick you pulled is gonna make you big medicine back at Two Bulls’ village.” Much to the delight of his companions, Jim divided the horses equally, so each man returned to the village the owner of three Cheyenne ponies.

  Chapter 4

  Johnny Hawk was right, the raid on the antelope hunt was the beginning of the legend of Rider Twelve Horses. A dance was held to celebrate the triumphant return of the hunting party, and Rider was looked upon with smiles of admiration as Deer Foot repeated many times the story of how Rider stole the Cheyenne ponies right out from under the hunters’ noses. Morning Flower and Owl Woman swelled with pride because he was living in their tipi, and several mothers made it a point to parade their daughters before the astonished y
oung man. Unnoticed by the joyous crowd, a young Crow maiden looked upon the white warrior with eyes reflecting thoughts beyond simple admiration.

  The major difference to Jim was a feeling that he was accepted by the people, not only as a friend of Little Thunder, but as a member of the village. All through the winter of 1866, he enjoyed the closest thing to a family that he could remember, hunting with Deer Foot and White Fox, as well as other men of the village. It was not enough, however, to dim his desire to see the high mountains, and as winter faded into spring, the urge to see beyond the horizon began to pull at him.

  Feelings and emotions were not the only changes in the tall white man, for this winter proved to be a year of physical maturity as well. In a few short months’ time, he shot up in height another two inches, so that Morning Flower had to look up to him. He wasn’t sure her cooking had anything to do with it, but he also began to fill out his towering frame. By the end of spring, the lanky boy had completed his metamorphosis into manhood. As a final touch, he shaved his mustache and beard, and let his hair grow longer to be more like the young Crow men. Morning Flower complained that she had to alter all the clothes she had sewn for him, but she also took credit for the change in his development.

  “Wish to hell you’d loan me some of that height,” Johnny said, joking.

  “No, Little Thunder,” she said, laughing, “you perfect now.”

  None noticed the change in Rider Twelve Horses more than the young Crow girl Yellow Bird, Deer Foot’s young sister, though she told no one of her approval. Realizing that she was little more than a child in Rider′s eyes, she continued to admire him from afar.

  Jim’s natural ability as a marksman soon earned him a reputation among the Crow hunters, but he was always envious of Johnny Hawk’s Henry rifle. Nothing Jim owned could tempt Johnny to trade with him for Jim’s Sharps carbine. The price tag on a new Henry was a steep forty-two dollars, and Jim had not one dollar to his name. If he was ever to obtain one of the lever-action rifles with the shiny brass receiver, it would have to be in a trade. His opportunity came that winter when an ex-soldier, down on his luck, sold his 1860 model Henry rifle to Seth Ward for a grubstake on his way to Virginia City. Seth, with no use for another rifle, decided to sell it. Resolved to own the rifle, Jim was determined to trade for it, for the final cost of the rifle and a ten-dollar box of cartridges was three horses and his Sharps carbine and ammunition. Johnny maintained that he could have gotten the weapon cheaper, but Jim didn’t care. He had the rifle he had craved, and that was enough for him.

  Because of the cost of the rifle and the expense to keep it supplied with cartridges, he knew that he was going to have to conserve his use of the Henry whenever possible. The solution to this problem was provided by Deer Foot. Jim had admired the Crow hunter′s skill with a bow, and expressed a desire to try his hand with one. Eager to assist him, Deer Foot went with him to find a suitable piece of cedar, which was Deer Foot’s preference. He then showed Jim how to shape it into a three-foot length, telling him that anything longer would be too difficult to handle on horseback. To strengthen it, he applied strips of buffalo sinew backing and made the bowstring also from sinew. After learning the proper method for making his arrows, Jim had a practical weapon to supplement his rifle. It did not take him long to become proficient with it when hunting, much to Deer Foot’s delight, for he took credit for teaching Rider Twelve Horses how to shoot.

  Like Jim, Johnny had not forgotten his plans to return to the mountains of Montana with which he had enticed Jim when they had first formed their partnership. Whereas his love for the mountains was real, an underlying attraction to the area were the gold mines of Virginia City. In conversation with William Bullock at the sutler′s store in Fort Laramie, Johnny Hawk learned that the principal chiefs of the Sioux and Cheyenne had agreed to come into the fort on the first of June to discuss peaceful passage of white men on the Bozeman Trail. Bullock’s boss, Seth Ward, was not confident that the peace talks would be successful since he had learned that Colonel Maynadier was expecting a large expedition force commanded by Colonel Henry Carrington to arrive sometime in early June, their mission being to build forts along the Bozeman. Johnny persuaded Jim to wait until after the peace talks, figuring it might make the trip on the Bozeman Trail less hazardous.

  June first came, and with it the Sioux and Cheyenne, with an estimated three thousand in all. Two Bulls was not at all comfortable with the huge number of enemies camped around Fort Laramie, and had great concern that the soldiers might not be able to defend against them if the talks turned ugly. It was time to move from the winter camp, anyway, so Two Bulls decided to leave the North Laramie for another camp down the Laramie. Since they had already talked about going to Montana, Rider Twelve Horses and Little Thunder said farewell to their adopted family.

  “You go along now, honey,” Johnny bade a tearful Morning Flower. “You take care of your mama, and I’ll be back.” Still, she was reluctant to leave him. “Don’t I always come back?” He tried to reassure her. “Maybe I’ll find some gold to buy you some fine things.”

  Finally she released him and turned to Jim. “Take care of Little Thunder,” she pleaded.

  “I will,” Jim promised. There was a certain sadness in his heart to see them go, but he realized that he was ready to move on. He hardly noticed Deer Foot’s younger sister standing alone to watch him and Johnny as they rode out of camp.

  The peace talks started well enough, but before they could be concluded, a case of bad timing wrecked the entire procedure. Colonel Carrington arrived at the fort with two thousand heavily armed troops and equipment to build forts on the Bozeman Trail. Red Cloud, leader of the Sioux, was infuriated when he saw the army’s intention to establish forts through land that the Sioux considered sacred whether he agreed to a treaty or not. It was the end of the negotiations, for the other Indians followed him when he promptly withdrew. “I will fight any soldiers who try to invade Sioux lands,” he informed the commission.

  With stocking up on supplies in mind, Jim and Johnny rode into Fort Laramie to trade some of the winter hides they had collected. With the departure of the Sioux and Cheyenne, they figured they might as well start west and rely on their skills and instincts to keep out of harm’s way. Just as they started to enter the sutler′s store, they heard a voice behind them. “I’ll be damned if it ain’t Johnny Hawk.”

  They both turned to see a lean, muscular man striding up to them with a wide smile on his face. Johnny grinned back and replied, “Hello, Jim, how the hell are you?” He turned to Rider then and said, “Rider, this here’s Jim Bridger. He’s the chief scout here.” Turning back to Bridger, he said, “Or should I call you Major Bridger?”

  Bridger laughed. “Jim’ll do. Howdy, young feller. I didn’t catch the name.”

  “Rider,” Johnny quickly answered.

  “Rider,” Bridger repeated, then turned his attention back to Johnny. “Last I heard you were ridin’ scout down at Fort Riley.”

  “I was, but me and Rider, here, decided to head out to Montana country—got a cravin’ to see the high mountains again—but from what I just heard, it might be a risky trip if we take the Bozeman Trail.”

  Bridger shook his head and chuckled. “It was a mighty short treaty, all right. Red Cloud told Colonel Maynadier and those boys from Washington to go to hell when Colonel Carrington showed up with the Eighteenth Infantry and a couple companies of cavalry.”

  “That’s what I heard,” Johnny said.

  “Colonel Carrington asked for me to scout for him—show him the way up the Bozeman, so he can look over spots to build his forts,” Bridger said. “If you and Rider are still wantin’ to go, I can have you hired on as scouts. How’s that sound?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Johnny replied. “All right with you, Rider?” Jim nodded.

  Bridger took a closer look at the tall young man, noting that he had to look up at him—and Bridger stood a shade over six feet. “Well,” he said, “looks like he�
�s big enough to take care of himself, and he sure ain’t too noisy, is he? He does talk, don’t he?”

  “I do,” Jim said.

  “All right, then. I’ll put you on the payroll. Maynadier knows you well enough, Johnny. I reckon you can vouch for your partner.” He paused to scratch his chin as he thought about it. “God knows Colonel Carrington brought some sorry-lookin’ scouts with him. I could use some men I can count on. The colonel ain’t gonna be ready to start out before a week or two, so you got plenty of time to do whatever you need to do.”

  Bridger shook hands with both of them before continuing on his way toward the post headquarters building. “I wonder if that Colonel Carrington is any kin to the lieutenant that arrested me on the Solomon,” Jim said after Bridger had gone. “Wasn’t that his name?”

  “As a matter of fact, it was,” Johnny replied, then thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know much about the lieutenant. He was just sent to Fort Riley about the middle of last summer. That patrol on the Solomon was the first time I ever rode with him. He seemed all right, except he was too much by the book to suit me.” He paused to chuckle then. “He was sure gonna take you back to Riley to hang, though, wasn’t he?”

  “How in hell am I gonna be a scout worth a damn when I ain’t ever been in the Powder River country?” Jim asked.

  “I know the country up that way,” Johnny said, “almost as good as Bridger, I expect. You just stick close to me. Besides, Bridger will be leadin’ the column. We’ll most likely be sent out to scout ahead and make sure there ain’t no Injuns about to hit ’em.”

  Jim was satisfied with that—as long as he wasn’t asked to tell anyone the best way to get to Fort Reno or some other specific spot. Left on his own, he was confident that he could find just about any place, just not the quickest route to it. He had always felt at home in the forest and on the plains, and the past winter and spring he had spent with Two Bulls’ village had taught him even more. Johnny Hawk was always eager to teach him on any given facet of living off the land, but he knew that he learned more about the spirit of the earth and the animals from Deer Foot. He was more at home with Rider Twelve Horses than he had ever been with the boy Jim Moran. He could feel his strength, and he feared nothing that might lie in his path. He would miss Deer Foot and White Fox, as well as Morning Flower and Owl Woman, but he might see them again one day. Who could say? For now, his thoughts were for the trail west and the mountains beyond.