Moving quickly, he made his way back through the trees and started up a hill, pausing at the top to see if anybody was coming after him. He could see the riders approaching the boy, and he waited just long enough to see them crowd around him. Then he turned and descended the other side of the hill, heading for the ravine he had found when he came down the mountain. As he hurried up the slope at a trot, he wondered what the Indians would make of the rifle shots. As far as he could tell, the boy was still not conscious when he left him. He had to wonder if he had just caused some future trouble for himself by firing the shots. At any rate, he decided it might be best to confine his hunting to the southern end of the chain of mountains for a while.
“Ain’t this somethin’?” Johnny remarked to his horse as he rode along the busy main street of Last Chance Gulch. The town was unfolding like a flower opening its petals, spreading out from the creek where four prospectors from Georgia had first found gold. Only this flower was far from beautiful. Already rough buildings were being hastily erected on every piece of land available. There were hundreds of tents and brush shelters crowded among log cabins half finished while their owners were turning every foot of dirt over to shovel into the sluice boxes, looking for the precious metal. The main street followed the windings of the creek as it snaked its way along the gulch, and side streets were already forming with no plan other than to follow the haphazard paths made by the miners on their way to the creek. Johnny nodded to the grim-looking men as he rode slowly past with barely a responding nod, as the rough-clad, bearded miners labored over their sluice boxes. “By God,” he muttered, “I ain’t ever been to a circus, but I bet it would have to go some to beat this.” Seeing one of the miners pause for a moment and lean on his shovel while he spat out his chaw and bit off a fresh one, Johnny reined his horse to a stop. “Say there, neighbor, is there someplace here where a man can trade for some supplies?”
The miner responded with a grin, “Hell, mister, look around you. If you stand in one spot for five minutes, there’ll likely be one where you’re standin’.” He motioned toward a board structure recently under roof a few dozen yards farther up the street with three large freight wagons beside it. “Yonder’s one fixin’ to open pretty soon. If they ain’t ready to trade, you can try that tradin’ post back down around the bend of the creek.”
“Much obliged,” Johnny said, and rode on toward the new building.
Pulling up to the store, he noticed a smaller farm wagon on the other side that he felt he had seen somewhere before, but dismissed the thought when a man walked out of the building to get something from one of the freight wagons. “Mornin’,” Johnny greeted him. “You open for business?”
“Good morning,” a friendly response came in return. “Well, we won’t be officially open for a day or two, till we can get the inside finished, but I never turn down an opportunity to do business. What can I do for you?”
“Well, sir,” Johnny started, “I got these furs here. . . .” That was as far as he got before he was startled by the appearance of Harvey McGowan in the doorway. “Well, I’ll be go to hell,” he exclaimed, and waited for Harvey to recognize him.
Glancing his way, Harvey stopped, obviously surprised. “Well, for goodness’ sake,” he uttered, “Johnny Hawk.”
“In the flesh,” Johnny replied with a wide grin. “I thought you was in Virginia City.”
“I thought you were,” Harvey returned, looking beyond him. “Is Rider with you?”
Johnny shook his head. “Nah, he’s back up in the mountains yonder way,” he said, motioning with his head. “He ain’t likely to come into town.” Then he gestured toward the store. “Looks like you ain’t wastin′ no time gettin’ started. This your brother you was comin’ to see?” He nodded toward Ralph, who was standing by the wagon, marveling over the chance meeting.
“Uncle,” Harvey replied. “This is Ralph McGowan. He’s the owner of the business. I’ll be working for him.” Turning to his uncle, he explained, “Ralph, this is Johnny Hawk, one of the scouts I told you about. If it wasn’t for Johnny and his partner, I might not be standing here today.”
Ralph stepped forward then and offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Hawk,” he said. “Step down and have a cup of coffee. We don’t have the stove hooked up yet, but the women have a pot on a fire behind the building.” He stepped back then after a quick glance at the pack of hides behind Johnny’s saddle, knowing that there was no business to be done with him. He had no interest in trading for hides. Gold dust was the currency he operated with. The show of hospitality was only for Johnny’s part in helping his nephew on the trip out.
“Why, that’ud be mighty good,” Johnny replied to his invitation. “I don’t mind if I do.” He dismounted then, ignoring Ralph’s sudden look of surprise when he discovered Johnny’s head was not as tall as his saddle when he got on the ground. He looped his reins around a wagon post and inquired, “You say the ladies are inside?”
“Yes,” Ralph replied, “Lucinda’s in the front of the store.”
“Who?” Johnny asked.
“Lucy,” Harvey answered sheepishly. Ralph had begun calling the women by their formal names, feeling a need for more dignity, since they were going to help in the creation of his merchandising empire. He didn’t attempt to explain it to this rough-hewn dwarf of a man.
“Oh.” Johnny took an extra second to think about that. “How about Tessie? Is she still—”
“Teresa,” Harvey replied before Johnny could finish his question.
“Oh,” Johnny repeated while he thought that over. Then his smile brightened, putting his lone tooth on prominent display. “You’ve gone fancy since your wagon train days are over.”
“Well, not really,” Harvey answered, feeling a bit embarrassed, “although it may look that way to you.” Eager to change the subject, he said, “Come on in and say hello to the girls. They’ll be glad to see you.”
“I wanna see them, too,” Johnny replied, and followed Harvey in the door, unaware of Ralph’s critical look as he came along behind him.
“My goodness,” Tessie replied as she came in from the back room to be startled by the little scout. “Look at what the cat dragged in.” Her face lit up with a delighted smile. “Look, Lucy. It’s Johnny Hawk.”
“Well, so it is,” Lucy replied, looking over her shoulder to see if his partner was with him. “What are you doing here?”
“Why, I come to visit you ladies,” he replied grandly, and bowed as they both came forward to meet him. Neither thought to give him a welcome hug or even a handshake, but the thought never occurred to him. Morning Flower was the only woman who had ever offered Johnny a hug. “Somebody said somethin’ about a cup of coffee.”
Tessie was quick to respond and was back in a minute with the coffee while the others exchanged news that had taken place over the more than three weeks since they left Virginia City. “I guess you met Ralph, Harvey’s uncle,” Lucy said.
“Yes, ma’am. He’s the one who offered the coffee.”
“Lucinda and I are engaged to be married,” Ralph interjected after seeing that Lucy was not going to mention it.
Startled, Johnny was rendered speechless for a long moment, a condition rarely encountered in his life. He almost spilled his coffee. Glancing at once at Lucy, he detected a slight flush of embarrassment, and he guessed that she had not planned to announce it. Glancing then at Harvey and Tessie, he saw similar expressions on their faces. After another moment, he found his voice. “Well, congratulations,” he said. “I reckon that’ll make her your aunt Lucy, won’t it, Harvey?” Still in the discomfort that Ralph’s announcement had seemed to settle upon Harvey and the two women, Johnny could not resist the urge to say, “I know Rider will be tickled to hear the news.”
“You never said what really brought you to town,” Lucy said, eager to change the subject.
“Me and Rider are runnin’ a little low on coffee beans and flour, so I brought some pelts in to see if I could t
rade for some. They ain’t really prime, but they’re worth more than that.” He looked at Ralph then to gauge his reaction. It was as he had already surmised. Ralph’s expression said as much.
In his best business manner, Ralph attempted to explain. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that the fur trade is long gone. I won’t be dealing with any hides because I have no market for them. Our business will be mostly in hardware and tools, some feed stock maybe, but we won’t be selling food staples like coffee and flour.” Johnny nodded his understanding without replying, and drained the last of his coffee while Ralph continued. “There’s an old fellow who runs a trading post about a mile up the gulch. He’s probably the man you’re looking for.”
“It may not always be that way,” Lucy was quick to interject. “I plan to make the lower section of the store a place where women can shop without coming in through the hardware store. They’ll be able to buy just about anything they need for the kitchen and the house.” Johnny nodded his head thoughtfully, and Lucy went on. “Later on, we’ll build onto the other end of the building and put a saloon in there. When we finish, folks will just have to go to one place to get everything they need.”
“That sure does sound grand,” Johnny said. He was beginning to get a clear picture of the attraction between the engaged couple and he recalled Lucy’s oft-quoted declaration, “I didn’t come west to be poor.” She stumbled upon a grubstake and she’s gonna marry it, he thought. It won’t be long after the wedding before he’ll know who’s the boss. “I’d best be on my way,” he announced, “see if I can find that tradin’ post you’re talkin’ about. Good to see you all again. Good luck with your store.” This last, he aimed squarely at Lucy. “And thank you for the coffee.” He placed the cup carefully down on an unfinished counter and with a wave of his hand, took his leave.
Tessie walked after him to stand in the door, watching him as he rode up the gulch. He said something as he left, but she was not sure what it was. “What did he say?” Harvey asked, standing behind her.
“I don’t know,” Tessie replied. “It sounded like he said jaybird or something similar to that.”
Grover Bramble ran the little trading post on the lower end of the gulch, and he agreed to trade with Johnny for the pelts. He had coffee beans and a small quantity of salt and sugar, but no flour. “Everythin’s scarce as hen’s teeth,” Grover remarked, “but flour′s been the scarcest of all. Feller last month brought in a wagon-load of flour and put it up for sale at a hundred dollars a barrel for a hundred-pound barrel. He sold part of the load before folks got so mad at the price that they got up a committee to go after him to lower the price on his flour.” He shook his head for emphasis. “Damn cold day in hell before I’d pay that price.” Then he chuckled and said, “So, no, I ain’t got no flour to sell.”
“Well, I reckon me and my partner will do without it,” Johnny said. “It ain’t like we ain’t been doin’ without it all along.” He stuffed his purchases in his “possibles bag” and tied it on his saddle, then said farewell to Grover Bramble.
“Come this winter,” Grover called after him, “if you get some prime pelts, bring ’em on in, and I’ll give you a little better trade.”
“I’ll do that,” Johnny said, and waved as he kicked his horse into a comfortable pace.
It was late in the evening when he returned to their camp in the mountains. “We ain’t rich enough to afford flour in that town,” he said when he saw Jim, “but I got some coffee beans. That’s the most important thing.”
“I reckon,” Jim allowed.
Johnny took care of his horse before returning to the campfire to recount the happenings of the day. He was anxious to see Jim’s reactions when he informed him of Lucy’s upcoming marriage to Harvey’s uncle, but he was also a little hesitant about inflicting damage to a healing sore. He knew it was news that he would be unable to keep, so he came out with it. “I ran into Harvey McGowan and the girls in town,” he finally blurted. “They’re settin’ up a new store with Harvey’s uncle.” The announcement caught Jim’s attention right away, but did not invoke the familiar screen that descended over his friend’s face whenever that subject was broached. “That ain’t the best part,” Johnny went on. “Lucy’s gonna marry Harvey’s uncle.” There, it was out, and Johnny paused to watch his friend intently as Jim’s expression never changed. He ain’t showing a sign, he thought, but it’s got to feel like I just drove a knife through his gut.
Johnny was only partially right, for Jim was struck by the news that Lucy had so quickly taken a husband. But his heart had been hardened by the scar tissue over his wounded soul, and the impact of the words could be felt against the shield he had built around his emotions, but they could not penetrate. Consequently, he had trained himself never to be wounded by attacks upon his heart again. The fact that Lucy would marry so quickly seemed to slam the final door on his young life, the life he knew as Jim Moran. He no longer wanted to remember anything about that life, and he no longer wanted to be called by that name. His name was Rider Twelve Horses. Jim Moran was dead.
Chapter 7
“You were too many days without food and water,” Black Horn told his son. “Maybe the time was not right and you should have waited a while and then tried again.”
“I think it took a long time to see my dream,” the boy answered, “because it was a powerful message, too big to carry in a single dream. When it came to me, I was weak and sick, but I could feel the spirit who came to help me. He came first as a fierce grizzly bear, but I did not run, so he called down the thunder and sent the bear away. I was lifted from the ground, then, as if I was flying, yet I could sense the presence of his strong arms carrying me to a place of safety.”
The more Black Horn thought about his son’s story, the more he began to believe that it was a medicine dream, especially when told about the spirit pointing to the sky and calling down the thunder to tell Black Horn to come for him. Everyone in the village had heard the thunder, once, and then three times more. Black Horn and a group of other warriors rode out to the hills to see what had caused the thunder, for it sounded like gunshots. However, there was no one to be seen near the place where they found the boy. The rest of the warriors scouted the forest all around the foothills while Black Horn took his son home. When the scouting party returned, they reported that there was no one there, so Black Horn was convinced that his son had been given his medicine dream and he should take the name of Spirit Bear. The incident might have been forgotten, had not the people of the Blackfoot village all heard the sharp cracks of thunder that sounded like gunshots.
The story of Spirit Bear′s dream was soon spread among the people, and they took it as a sign that a powerful spirit lived in the mountains nearby, and many of the young warriors went into the mountains in hopes of seeing this powerful being, thinking it would strengthen their medicine. Rider Twelve Horses had no idea that he had become a Blackfoot legend, and that the mere sighting of him would give a young warrior cause to boast of it in the village. He did notice the occasional sighting of a Blackfoot hunter near the center of the mountains where he had seen none before. He had always been fortunate before to see them before they saw him, but on one occasion, while hunting, he had climbed out on a high rock precipice to scan the valley floor. It was one of his favorite spots, for the valley stretched out before him as far as the eye could see. As his eyes scanned up the slope below him, he suddenly caught sight of a solitary Indian hunter standing in a small clearing about halfway up. From the way the Indian was staring at him, there was no doubt that he had been discovered. There was no sign of aggression, or in truth, of action of any kind. He just continued to stand and stare until Rider backed out of his view.
When he mentioned it to Johnny, it surprised the little man. “He didn’t try to shoot at you or nothin’? A Blackfoot ain’t usually that peaceful. You’d better mind you don’t bring one of ’em back here to our camp.”
“I expect I’ll start huntin’ more in the l
ower part of the mountains,” Rider said. He had already planned to do that, after happening upon the Blackfoot boy, but he had thought he could be careful enough to avoid the Indian hunters.
“Maybe so,” Johnny replied as he studied his friend’s face, and wondered how much longer it would be before this chain of mountains would no longer satisfy him. He already knew practically every foot of the Big Belt Mountains, and never seemed to tire of scouting them. But winter was coming on, and Johnny was not enthusiastic about spending another winter in this secret camp. Unlike Rider, Johnny craved the enjoyment of a saloon once in a while, as well as contact with other folks, especially of the female persuasion. In the beginning of their camp here in the mountains, he was of the opinion that his young friend would soon heal his wounds and satisfy his desire for the solitude a man finds in the high country. Then, hopefully, he would develop the itch for bawdy houses and strong drink like any normal man, but the longer they remained there, the more ingrained Rider′s need for solitude became.
One thing that Johnny had not foreseen was Rider′s potential for supplying hides. He had taken to the bow like an Indian, and it had become his weapon of choice—not only for the saving of cartridges for the Henry rifle, but for its silence—allowing him to kill more than one animal in a group and not scare the others away. Of course, the bow also would not alert any Blackfoot hunter that might chance to be close by. Rider’s proficiency with a bow was cause for a comment from Grover Bramble on one of Johnny’s trips to the trading post.
Ride the High Range Page 12