Winter Crossing

by James E Ferrell

  C8 Evil is Right Down the Mountain

  Early morning brought a cloudy sky and a silver mist over Elam’s valley. Standing on his porch, he sipped coffee while scanning the country for the small mare. Not finding her out on the sweet grass, he collected his weapons and made his way out along the creek bank. After an hour of hunting, he gave up and headed back. She was not to be found. The corral fence gave him his answer; hanging from the gate post, he spied the leather strips he had used to hobble the horse. The four horseshoes that he had hung there were gone. Someone had walked right up to his cabin without him even knowing it. This fellow was a cut above most mountain men, for no one had ever gotten that close to him without his knowledge.

  Elam was not going to let that fellow just up and walk away, not having said as much as a howdy. So, he just up and followed that little filly right out of his valley. Leading the mare was a massive pair of moccasins. A body can tell a lot about a fellow by the stride he makes and the size of his feet. ‘This feller is a big man!’ he thought. Elam stood over six feet and carried two hundred and twenty pounds; this man was much bigger than he was.

  Finding a clear footprint, Elam set his moccasin foot in the print, which was two inches longer and an inch wider than his foot. ‘Whoever he wuz, he loved good hoss flesh. The mare had been gentle broke and showed a kind hand,’ he thought.

  Elam made good time because the rain-soaked ground made it easy to follow after the mare. For hours he made his way across the vast plateau. Following the trail without looking down, he stepped up the pace as the sun began to set.

  Dusk brought him to the funnel where the giant gaping hole yawned at him as he stood on the rim. As darkness closed, he set off for the overhang where he could spend the night. The smell of coffee brewing and fresh meat roasting came to him in the wind before he reached the overhanging rock.

  Elam stood for a long time trying to decide whether to make himself a target by climbing under the overhang or not. The smell of coffee finally overcame caution, and he said, “I guess I be a-comin’ in. I hope you be a white man or a friendly Injun.” Stepping under the overhang, he stood silhouetted against the night sky. Elam surveyed the scene. A slab of deer meat was on a spit, roasted above the fire and coffee sat next to the coals. No one was there except the familiar footprints on the dusty floor. He ate well and settled comfortably around the fire listening to the sounds of the night.

  “I don’t know if anyone is out thar but iffin’ you are I’m a peace-lovin,’ God-fearin’ man. I be a-hopin’ to find a friend in this lonely land,” having said that, Elam closed his eyes and slept. Something told him that his words were not wasted on the night air.

  Daybreak found Elam standing on the edge of the funnel looking for a sign of the mare. Not a man to give up easily, he decided to scout the area and spend another night before heading back to his valley. The day began to wane; still, he found no sign of the mare.

  Early evening, he scouted along the line of mountains that bordered the great valley where the savage Indians lived. Finding a lofty place to observe the valley below, he lay prone on a big rock ledge. In the distance, he could make out a small herd of horses and could tell there was no quality among them. Smoke from a hundred campfires curled up lazily into the evening sky. ‘There must be a thousand braves in a camp that size,’ Elam thought as he scanned the valley with his field-glass.

  From melting snow-capped mountains, the river flowed and made its way across the valley floor. He recognized the place where he had seen the Indians swimming. Wooden frames stood with buffalo hides stretched where the squaws scraped them clean for tanning. The distance was too great to make out their features, except for the one that was possibly a white man. Elam was puzzled by what he saw. Trying to get a better look, he moved forward on the ledge. His motion caused just the slightest shadow to move on the rock beside him. He had been lying on a flat cliff overlooking the valley. The slight sound of movement behind him brought him over, and as he turned, he drew a long knife from his knee-high moccasins.

  His transition was quick and just in time for a spear struck the rock where he had been lying. With the speed of a man half his size, he had rolled and sent his knife into the warrior’s midsection. For a moment, the brave stood shocked by the swiftness of the white man. Then as the color drained from his face, his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground.

  As the warrior fell, Elam rolled out of the way. With almost the same motion, he came to his feet with his rifle ready. He fully expected to see Indian braves charging from the rocks before him. Relieved the brave had been alone, Elam stood over him. He was a fierce-looking man, his face dyed with many colors, and his body marked with scars from previous battles. His hair was long and plaited with human finger bones, probably those of warriors he had killed in battle. A woman’s necklace hung around his neck, perhaps from one of the unfortunate women from the wagon train. Among his tribe, this Indian was a mighty warrior. His lance was a well-made weapon and Elam decided to keep it. Several scalps hung from the shaft, which he would bury at the first opportunity.

  Back in the rocks, he found a horse with a deer tied across his back. The brave had spotted Elam lying on the ledge as he crossed the mountain. He was headed back to his village after a successful hunt. As quickly as he could, Elam covered the bloody earth with sand, making sure no trace of the Indian's blood remained.

  Heading out across the mountains, he chose a rocky path he hoped would not leave a trail to follow. The horse carried a double burden as Elam made his way across the mountain’s range leading the horse. Miles away, he found a crevice in the ground. Taking a fair size stone, he dropped it into the dark hole and waited for a long time before he heard it crash on the rock below. Satisfied, Elam lifted the dead Indian off the horse and dropped him into the deep hole. He hoped this brave would not be found this side of the happy hunting ground.

  Darkness was setting when he reached the ledge again. He found no hot coffee or roasted deer meat to welcome him this time. Elam made quick work of skinning the deer, and it didn’t take long to get a fire going to cook his supper. Lying beside the fire, he examined the necklace he had taken from the brave. The memory of the white man by the river came back to him. His hair had been white or yellow, giving Elam reason to believe the white Indian was probably an old captive raised as an Indian, or he might be a renegade trapper. Elam had heard of white men riding with Indians on the warpath and this may be such a man.

  Tomorrow there would be a brave missing from the village and many braves would be out looking for him. Elam decided that this would be a bad time to be in this area. He also decided he would get back in his mountains by early light. Stones rattled in the entrance and he backed away from the fire with his weapons.

  “Iffin’ you come friendly, then you are welcome; if not, you have yourself a badger in a hole,” Elam yelled.

  “I come a friendly man, in this unfriendly land. Thar be three of us out here. Two younglings not long from their mother’s milk. I be a-needin’ some help with these two or I wouldn’t be a-botherin’ you, seein’ I don’t like strangers in my wilderness. You be a-talkin’ to a Tolivar from Kan-tuck,” the man said.

  “Come friendly Tolivar and meet a Franklin from across the mountains in Tennessee, and you be a-welcomed!” Elam stated.

  The enormous man blocked the moonlight as he stepped in from the night. He stood in the firelight with a small girl holding to his finger, her face smudged with dirt. A boy walked by his side as they all came into the glow of the fire together.

  “Mr. Franklin, do that be your horse out thar on the grass?” the big man asked.

  “I acquired him just this day; he belonged to a mighty mean-lookin’ Injun,” Elam explained.

  “I hope you paid a fair price fer him, cause them markin’s on his rump says he belongs to the son of the chief himself,” Tolivar stated.

  “That be not good news. I’m not a-wantin’ to meet up with his father. It wasn’t a fair exchange a-
tween’ us. I left him in a deep hole along the mountain range east of here. He wuzn’t a friendly cuss and wanted my scalp even a-four’ we war introduced!” said Elam.

  The man from Kentucky scratched his bearded chin and said, “I figured as much, and I would have done as much fer him, had I been in your shoes. You brought a might of trouble down on me to which I am not obliged. Iffin’ it warn’t for these youngins’ I would bury myself back in these mountains and not be a-wantin’ to party with you with the whole tribe out a-lookin’ fer their next chief. These kids here have already lost their mom to that heathen bunch, and I don’t know nothin’ about motherin’. I wuz a-hopin’ on your way out of the country you would take them with you,” Tolivar stated suggestively.

  To the right of the big man called Tolivar, the boy stood; his face lean with a tired expression, he said, “I ain’t a-goin’ out of the country without my mother and Mary needs her something fierce,” Danny said.

  Elam looked at the two dirty and scared children. “How did you two come by gittin’ away from them redskins?” he inquired.

  Danny relaxed a little under the gaze of the mountain man. “Mother took us out to round up the stock before the Indians attacked the wagon train. When the attack started, Red spooked. Mary and I were on his back and he ran away,” he replied.

  “Red?” Elam asked.

  “Red is my horse,” Danny said with pride.

  Elam looked at the red blanket that Mary held and immediately a light went off in his head. He said, “Now I know what I saw the other night, wuz fer true! I done seen a big red horse flyin’ through the air wit’ you two children on his back. That hoss had wings of fire as he flew above the herd,” he said, pointing to the blanket Mary held. “Your horse wuz runnin’ with a herd of wild horses that stampeded into the funnel!”

  “Them hosses ain’t’ wild. They is jest free. You be acquainted with my Buttercup; she is the small mare with the iron shoes. I had to shoe her cause she has soft hooves, and they be a-givin’ her trouble iffin’ I don’t!” the man from Kentucky said.

  “Why don’t you all settle down around this fire and help me eat this deer while we figure how to stay alive,” Elam invited. He thought about the necklace he had in his pocket and pulled it out. “The chief’s son had this around his neck when I kilt him,” he said, holding the necklace up in the firelight.

  Danny stiffened. “That’s my mother’s necklace. He must have taken it from her!” he exclaimed.

  Elam handed the necklace to Danny and said, “Then it’s fittin’ that the young Mary be a-wearin’ it. Shorely your mom would have wanted her to have it.”

  “These here children are hopin’ that their mother is still alive,” Tolivar said.

  Elam sat chewing on a piece of tender deer meat looking at Tolivar. “She may well be alive. While I wuz watching from the ledge, I saw a small white man with the squaws cleaning buffalo hides by the river. With hair as short as a man’s, I just naturally figured she be a he. But now that I think of it, he seemed too small to be a man. With blond hair like Mary’s there, it must have been her mother. Asides, a white man wouldn’t be alive long enough to see the sunset, that is iffin’ he wuz lucky,” Elam said.

  “If you have seen my mother, then we must go get her,” Danny said. Mary started whimpering again, wanting her mother, and the big mountain man tried to comfort her.

  “Now, missy, don’t you go a-cryin’ again. We will see what we can do for your ma,” the mountain man said.

  “You kids set down and eat your fill. I think I will take a look around to make shore no Injuns has come a-callin’. Tennessee, you want to come along?” Elam said.

  Outside, the two men walked quietly along, listening to the sounds of the night. Each was using his skills and instincts to make sure their surroundings were secure. Finding a sizable boulder to sit on, the man from Kentucky settled down on a rock and laid his rifle across his knees.

  “You the feller what been taking care of me through these mountains with the river and all?” Elam asked.

  “That be me--just a-hangin’ around to see what stunt you might be a-plannin’ next. When you jumped off that waterfall, I figured that wuz a stunt what would be hard to top. I didn’t expect to pull a live man out of the water. At first, I wuz a-figurin’ thar must have been a mighty big bunch of Injuns up thar to throw you off them falls!” The big man chuckled then continued. “I warn’t shore I wanted to meet a man what am crazy enough to jump off a waterfall that high. Asides, I will live longer out here without company to nurse-maid.” His face wrinkled as he concentrated his gaze on Elam and said, “My name is Nolan Tolivar.”

  Recognition filled Elam’s face. “Well, now thars news. Seeing how you died some time back in an Injun attack on your wagon train,” he said.

  A mask of grief came over the big mountain man’s face and he looked far away into the hills. “I should have been kilt. It would have been better for me. I led fifteen wagons filled with Christian men, women, and children to their deaths. We had the advantage over the Injuns in weapons, but they had the advantage in numbers. Thar is no more a savage bunch of murderous Injuns that ever lived than what lives in that valley over thar,” Nolan said.

  “You war the wagon master. The story is, you are a brave fightin’ man that wuz the last one left standin’ just a-slingin’ your bloody rifle by the barrel a-killin’ one after the tother of them savages,” Elam stated.

  “That be a mighty fine story, but if I be the only one left standin’ who war a-watchin’ and lived to tell about it? Thar war four that did live and they told what they knew but I suppose people just naturally changed the story up a mite. It war not that away. We had a fine herd of horses and some real good a-pullin’ stock with us and I felt mighty good about the number of fightin’ men that war along. I misjudged the Injuns' ability as fightin’ men and their desire to have them horses. My confidence war my down fall and my leadership cost everyone their lives,” Tolivar relayed sadly.

  “You said four lived?” Elam inquired.

  “My son and his wife war two of those that got away. I had them drive the stock out ahead and cut a trail for Dalton, Colorado, ridin’ day and night. I would keep the wagons a-comin,’ and if the Indians caught up to him, he wuz to leave the horses and hightail it to Dalton. He took two boys along to help him git the horses through. He wuz supposed to bring as many armed men back with him as he could once he had the stock secured in Dalton,” Tolivar stated.

  Nolan continued, “The next mornin’, the herd came chargin’ back into camp chased by a band of Injuns. The Injuns had overtaken them and scattered the herd. My son and the rest had no choice but to run for their lives. They rode for Dalton to git help, jest like I told them to do.”

  “The stock scattered through the hills and we lost the horses. Then I done a foolish thing, I put a man without experience in charge while I took several men and went out to hunt for my boy and the others jest in case. I should have known they would have followed my orders. A band of Injuns attacked us, and as we fought our way back to the wagons, the six men with me war all killed. I fought my way through the hills for days before I got back to the wagons. What I found has haunted me and will forever,” Toliver stated.

  Sighing deeply like a man with a heavy burden, he continued, “The Indians attacked the wagon train agin while they war strung out and they war unable to circle for protection. I had left orders that they not move until I returned. I had left twenty-three men, women, and children behind in the wagon train, and I found twenty-three bodies when I returned, one wuz my wife. Day after day, I buried the dead until I had buried them all. On my way to Dalton, I ran into my boy and the men sent to help.”

  “I stayed in Dalton for a few days. Growin’ restless, I came back. I don’t know why, but I just came back. A couple of times I have gone back to civilization, but I always return here,” Tolivar stated despondently.

  Nolan looked at Elam and said, “You know there is no chance we can get the youngste
rs ma away from that bunch of savages. Most likely we will git kilt in the attempt. They will keep her too weak to run and slowly starve and work her to death, or if she is pretty, some buck will take her as his squaw,” Nolan said.

  “By tomorrow mornin’, they will be out lookin’ for the Injun I killed. If I left any trail at all, they will follow it to us,” Elam said.

  Nolan scratched his chin and contemplated the situation and said, “I figured that and I don’t see how we can come out of this alive anyway. But what we kin do is make shore those two and their ma gitaway. I jest can’t stand those poor kids pinin’ away for their ma. A kid just naturally needs a ma. Maybe one last good act will, in some way, help me atone for the wrong I did the folks on the wagon train. I’ll go in and git their ma.”

  “Nothin’ doin’. Won’t do them kids no good iffin’ we both git kilt in the process and they are left to wander around these hills till they die. Asides, I got a plan,” Elam said.

  Nolan stood and paced around in the moonlight. “I’m a-figurin’ this be a two-man job, Elam. Besides, we have an edge. I have good fast horses, and that red horse of Danny’s and my Buttercup kin carry the children out of this country and to safety. Then we can git thar mother free from these savages. A three-day ride and I can take the kids to the end of this savage land and in the motherin’ arms of a good woman. If we leave now, I can git them thar and be back in a few days,” he said.

  Elam smiled a thoughtful smile and shook his head no and said, “Your few days is too long, Nolan, and you know it.”

  “Elam, I will travel as fast as I can. Thars’ a place across the prairie only I know about whar I kin meet you, and together, we can try and git the mother. If we can git her free, we will travel out of this country together,” Nolan said.

  “You be a-thinkin’ good, but you know that no white hostage is a-goin’ to be a-livin’ that long in them savage hands,” Elam said.