Colter's Hell, page 14
“Oui, oui,” Laroque said with a frown that quickly turned into a smile, he had a tendency to speak in his native tongue when he was flustered or angry or outdone, “well, you know how it is.”
“I think what it really was were your journals,” Colter said.
“Oh?”
The mountain man nodded. “I have it on good authority that both Captains Clark and Lewis were disappointed after having read the journals; it made the two realize how drab their own writing was by comparison.”
“I’d imagine – I bed down and live with the tribes I visit, especially the Hidatsa and Mandan, while you Americans hold yourselves so aloof.”
Colter had nothing to say to that one, for the Frenchman was right and he knew it.
After that their talk had turned to the predicament at hand. They had the conversation that day over a lunch of pemmican and dried berries, the Snake River not too far off in the distance.
“So what do you think we should do?” Larocque said, looking at the mountain man. Colter let out a sigh, walked a few feet away, and rubbed at his beard. After a minute of thought he turned back.
“What do you think?” he asked the Frenchman, though he also darted his eyes over to Arapoosh. “You’ve been around this area – what’s the best way for us to get away.”
The Frenchman shook his head while brushing some snow off a large rock. “I’m not sure we can get away,” he said as he sat down. “We killed a lot of Blackfeet back there, and they’re likely not happy about that. And I don’t know about you, but quite a few of them looked awfully young to me. If one was a son, we’ll never get away.”
“So we fight,” Arapoosh said, banging his spear against his small shield. The two men looked over at the boy, then each other.
Colter shrugged. “What else are we to do then?”
“Nothing,” Larocque said, “we’re not going to get away from them, all we can do is find the most favorable area to make a stand.”
“So where’s that?”
Larocque nodded his head toward the river. “Further north, where the Snake drains into the wastelands of the Yellowstone.”
“Yellowstone?” Colter said. “Does it start this far south?”
“That it does,” Larocque said, now motioning at the western mountains to their right. “She starts in the Absarokas here before passing through the Snowy Mountains and another range to the west of them, then circles back up onto the course you were likely on last winter. Your fort shouldn’t be more than 150 miles downriver at that point.”
“An easy jaunt in a dugout,” Colter said, and Larocque nodded.
“You could be back by the first buds of spring, probably sooner.”
Colter took in a deep breath and turned back to look at the Snake. The river was twisting its way northward just as its name implied. Already they’d passed one large lake at the foot of the jagged peaks that bordered the region, and now the spruce and fir and juniper were appearing more frequently, stark shades of green against the vast winter wonderland of white that assaulted them from every direction. Only the big sky above offered another respite, it’s blueness as infinite and unknown as ever.
“Let’s do it then,” Colter said, turning back around to look at Larocque and Arapoosh. The young River Crow brave nodded at his words, while the Frenchman clapped his hands down on his knees and stood up from his rock.
“Alright,” he said, beginning to rub his hands together. He then bent down and drew a few lines in the snow, grabbed a few stray rocks, and started to draw a rudimentary map.
“Up ahead we’ll run into a large lake, what the Crow call Yellowstone Lake. After that there are bubbling pools, cauldrons of steaming mud, and a great waterfall once the river picks up again.” He looked up at them. “It’s at the waterfall that we’ll make our stand.”
33 – Following the Snake
Wolf Calf was looking up at the jagged peaks of the Teton Mountains, or at least what was left of them. They’d passed the large lake at their base more than a day ago and were nearing Yellowstone Lake and the strange lands that surrounded it. Beside the young Blackfoot brave was Quiet Thunder, and once again Wolf Calf looked over and clapped him on the shoulder.
“It’ll be alright,” he said quietly, leaning in close. Buffalo Child was only a dozen or so yards ahead of them on the trail, and the young leader of the Skunk Band didn’t want the Wise One, or the remaining two members of the Otter Band, to hear him.
Quiet Thunder nodded. “I’m scared, Wolf Calf...” he trailed off and shook his head. “Running Rabbit...Little Mouse...Dog Hair...they weren’t supposed to die.”
“I know,” Wolf Calf said, and he looked up at his father. As if reading his mind, Stone Bear turned and looked over his shoulder at them. Something in their faces must have convinced the man to try again, for he frowned and moved up the trail further, getting closer to the group’s leader.
“Buffalo Child,” he called out, “stop!” Ahead, the Wise One kept up his steady pace as if he’d not heard. Stone Bear firmed up his face and shouted out again. “Stop and–”
“And what?” Buffalo Child shouted out at Stone Bear as he wheeled about, slapping his new musket down in his hands. Most of the powder the Cree had had on him had been wet, but some had not, and the Wise One knew he could count on the gun for a few shots, at least. “Do you intend for me to run back to the tribe, run back like some cur with its tail between its legs?” he laughed. “That’s you, Stone Bear, not I.”
Wolf Calf looked up at his father, saw the anger in his face, an anger held in check...for now. And how could it not be? Buffalo Child was on a death mission, one that’d likely result in his death and any that were around him. Whether that death would result in the death of his intended prey, the two whites and their strange Indian ally, Wolf Calf had no idea, nor did he intend to find out. Like his father, he knew they had to get away. Looking over at the remaining two braves of the Otter Band, boys really, he now thought for the first time, for that’s all they were really, boys far from home and scared because of it. He could see that fear in Small Face’s eyes especially, though Flying Wasp still stood with his chest puffed out, his pride evident. He fully expected an easy victory over the whites, as did Buffalo Child, and Wolf Calf knew this would cost them dearly, cost them all.
“We will continue to follow you, Buffalo Child,” Stone Bear said with a sigh, then shaking his head, “though I know folly lies down that path.”
“But follow me you will, my fellow Wise One, for you know it’ll be a greater folly should you return back to the village and the dying man we still for some reason call ‘chief.’ If that should happen, your folly will mean your death.”
The two men stared daggers at one another for a few more moments before Buffalo Child scoffed, wheeled about, and continued up the trail, following the Snake River as it twisted and turned ever northward to the strange lands there.
“Come Flying Wasp and Small Face,” he called out with a smile, waving them on with the musket, “we’ve two whites to kill and a River Crow dog!”
The two braves looked from Buffalo Child back to Stone Bear, Wolf Calf, and Quiet Thunder, and then headed up the trail as well.
“Father–”
“Walk,” Stone Bear said, cutting off his son.
The young brave frowned, but did as he was told.
34 – The Sky People
The wind howled and snow swirled, and the world around them was dark. It was about as cold as could be, Colter figured, and the three huddled together under a small defile of rock shivering against the wind. No fire had been set, for something like that would immediately tip off the Blackfeet following them. They’d reached Yellowstone Falls just as dusk was coming in, and night quickly followed. Both Arapoosh and Larocque had ensured the mountain man that the falls were there, even though he couldn’t hear them.
“Frozen,” Larocque had told him, “though if you listen carefully, you might be able to pick up a bit of water that’s not, for there’s always something running under the surface.”
Colter had listened, for quite some time, but all he’d picked up was a faint droning sound, like a bee that’d been caught in some back room. He’d have to wait until morning to see, and that couldn’t come soon enough, he thought, as he sat and huddled with the others.
The night passed slowly, with the men huddled together. For Arapoosh, however, this was nearly unbearable. The Blackfeet were out there, and one in particular had the answers he sought. He’d spoken of the Sky People and Above World before with the two men, Colter in particular. The mountain man had scoffed at him, but what Arapoosh hadn’t know was that Colter had a sneaking suspicion he already knew about these Sky People, and had since that night he and Forest had been out, rushing back to the cave from the A’anninen village. He’d asked Arapoosh about that night, and about that village, but the young brave had only shaken his head, saying it was likely Colter had stayed at one of the many A’anninen villages that dotted the area around the Yellowstone River, and that it was just as likely gone by now, for that was the way of the Indians. He hadn’t shaken his head about the strange light that Colter had seen in the sky, however, indeed, that’s when he’d become much more interested in the mountain man.
“What did it look like...where was it going...did it tell you anything?”
Those were all questions the young brave had shot Colter’s way on their journey so far, but the mountain man had only shaken his head and said he hadn’t a clue. That perturbed Arapoosh, but only for a few moments. After that he nodded and launched into a lengthy explanation of the Sky People and Above World, as he called them. He did so again that night while the three huddled amidst the rocks.
“They come in giant canoes of the sky,” Arapoosh said, his teeth chattering against the wind as the mountain man pressed closer to him, the better to share their warmth, “and sometimes they land.” He shook his head. “I haven’t seen them myself, a landing I mean, but I’ve heard stories. The ships are large, circular, and have openings you can’t see. The Sky People, when they do come out, are tall and white...whiter than you!” He said that last with a smile. “No hair, however, “Arapoosh was firm to note, “not a hair on their bodies.”
“What do they want?” Colter asked, going along with the tail. He could understand shooting stars looking like canoes in the sky, but to actually see one land and people get out? That was a bit much.
“We’re their children,” Arapoosh said matter-of-factly, “and they watch over us, and the animals as well. Many times members of my tribe and others have found buffalo that have been cut up, pieces taken out.” He frowned. “Always cut and taken out in a way that no knife ever could.”
“Don’t sound like ‘watching over’ to me,” the Frenchman scoffed, his teeth beginning to chatter as well. Outside their small overhang of rock the snow was swirling in the frigid wind.
“Oh, they are,” the brave said, “they are. They look to the animals and what they eat, studying them to make sure that what we eat is safe as well. Like I said, we’re their children and they watch over us, always have and always will.”
A few moments of silence fell after that, for Arapoosh had winced slightly and Colter had noticed. He knew why, too – the brave was questioning his own words. After all, Colter had already learned that the reason the boy was out in the wilderness on his own was because he was looking for his brother, doing so under the guise of a vision quest. The Sky People had taken his brother, he claimed, and he meant to get him back or find out why. Or die trying, Colter thought.
Once again the mountain man wondered just how much these Sky People really were watching over, and how much they were using the tribes like prey. That’s when he made himself believe the tales at all, which wasn’t often, and then usually before he shook his head and muttered something like, “get your head together, John.”
Both he and Laroque muttered something to that effect now, and the three settled back into silence. The wind howled and swirled around them, and they huddled down, bracing themselves against the cold.
~~~
A shooting star streaked across the clear sky, or was it a star? That’s what Arapoosh thought as he watched it quickly appear and then disappear, a sight he’d seen many times. He took it as the signal he’d been waiting for and slowly began to get up. Beside him the Frenchman and the mountain man slept, both snuggled tightly into the furs of the other. Larocque didn’t have a coat, but Colter had quite a few furs he’d picked up on his trek, and the Frenchman had been thankful for them. “And you’ll be paying for ‘em if they come back to me smelling like that Paris foo-foo water!”
“It’s called cologne,” Laroque had said, “and would probably increase their value, at least with the fine Parisian women, though I’d expect you wouldn’t know anything about that, eh?”
Arapoosh smiled at the memory of the men talking, and was once again thankful that he’d spent so much time huddled outside the medicine man’s tent back in the village when the other trappers had come through over the years. He’d picked up a lot of the white man’s talk, and knew he probably wouldn’t be alive right now had he not.
Now standing, Arapoosh took another look at the men. They hadn’t been disturbed by his motions and he moved away, out into the night, southward toward the band of Blackfeet he knew to be close.
35 – A Visit
Wolf Calf awoke and saw that the snow was still swirling outside the small cave they’d found. It wasn’t so much a cave as a small cleft in the mountain, but it’d kept a bit of the wind’s bite off. Off of Buffalo Child and the two braves that followed him at least, for that’s about all the room it had. Wolf Calf looked up at the three now, sleeping inside, while just outside were his father and Quiet Thunder. The young Blackfoot brave frowned at the situation but didn’t dwell on it – he had to make water and the sooner he did that the sooner he could be laying down again, hopefully to fall asleep and awake when the sun was shining.
Wolf Calf moved out past the first few trees and then came to a stop, started to relieve himself. He was doing that still when a hard object was suddenly beneath his chin, pushing it up.
“The slightest of moves and that throat is cut,” Arapoosh said from the darkness behind the Blackfoot.
Wolf Calf gulped but that was it. A moment later he saw the River Crow boy appear before him, though the spear was still held beneath to his throat.
“You never answered my questions,” Arapoosh said, referring to the day they’d met in the clearing where the skirmish had taken place.
Wolf Calf said nothing and a moment later Arapoosh lowered the spear, though only slightly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I–”
The spear was back up under his chin and the brave stopped talking.
“You were out there that night, out amidst the blackness, I saw you. There were eight of you, all on horseback, painted ponies with handprints and streaks, yellow, red and white. The braves were nestled in buffalo furs, and seemed to be making a slow pace, not rushing at all. That’s when the light appeared in the sky.”
Wolf Calf said nothing, just stared at the young boy. He was speaking the truth, for he had been out that night with Silver Heart and some of the Otter Band. Calf Looking had invited him and both of their fathers had said it’d be alright. That was when he and Sidehill Calf were still alive, something that seemed so long ago now.
“Ah-ha,” Arapoosh said, smiling, for he could see the recognition in the young brave’s eyes, could see that his words were registering as truth.
“What of it?” Wolf Calf said, spat was more like it, and the spear point dug up a bit into his chin for his efforts.
“I lost my brother that night, Thrown into the Spring, taken right from beside me. The Sky People took him,” he said, looking up for a moment. Wolf Calf caught that look and narrowed his eyes. “They came right down from Above World in their canoes of the sky, came right down and took him.” He glanced up again. “I mean to find out what happened, and I mean to find out what you–”
Arapoosh had just started to glance back at Wolf Calf when the young Blackfoot made his move. His hand shot up and latched onto the spear just below the point, pushing it away from him. Arapoosh was caught off guard by the move and by the time he could thrust upward, Wolf Calf’s chin was long gone.
“Father! Father!” the young Blackfoot brave shouted as he ran back toward the rocky cleft they’d been sleeping under.
Arapoosh saw him go and raised his spear up for a killing throw. He held the weapon, but didn’t release. The Blackfoot had been there that night, and likely had seen what had happened. Killing him wouldn’t bring back Thrown into the Spring, and neither would his own death. On the third shout of “father” the young Crow brave turned and ran, hoping he could get back to the whites before the six Blackfeet could catch him.
36 – Rude Awakening
Colter awoke with a start, though if you’d asked him why he couldn’t have said. The sky was still dark though lightening quickly. Dawn wasn’t far off, though the air still held a chill bite and a light snow had begun. The wind, thankfully, had died off. That wasn’t what had awoken him, however, and looking over to his right he quickly found a reason not to care what the reason had been – Arapoosh was gone.
“Larocque,” he said, shaking at the Frenchman who was still asleep to his left, “wake up!”
“Hm...wh...what?” Larocque said as he started to come to. He looked over and saw that the young Indian boy was gone then saw Colter’s wide eyes. He knew immediately that something was wrong.
“He’s gone,” Colter said, standing up now.
“Maybe he’s just in the trees taking care of business,” Larocque said as he pulled the myriad small furs closer to him.
“I don’t think so,” Colter said, “for his things are gone. Besides, he...”
The mountain man trailed off and Larocque narrowed his eyes, looked back up at him. “What is it?” he said, but Colter’s hand shot up and silenced him.
