The Saga of Harlan Waugh (The Mountain Men) (14 page)

The grin got noticeably wider when Autumn Flower once again brought him a cup of scalding coffee loaded with much brown sugar—and in her hurry forgot to bring any to Harlan and Big Eagle.

***

A week later, a still somewhat confused Winter Hawk pulled out of his partial coma. The two women made much of him as if nothing else mattered, and soon he was sitting up in bed, eating a little, and talking. A week later he was up and moving around, still a little wobbly and having bad headaches when he stood up too fast, but on the mend. If the slug to his head had been one- quarter inch closer, he would have been killed.

During that time, Winter Hawk had a frequent visitor in Runs Fast. They talked a great deal, but it was obvious that Runs Fast was there mostly for the attention he received from Autumn Flower.

Their affection was not lost on anyone else in the little group, especially Harlan, who realized that if those affections became an issue, he, a guest of Low Dog, would have to cross the lines of hospitality to see what he could do. Harlan was still keenly aware of what he had had to do to get Autumn Flower and Birdsong from the Northern Cheyenne chief.

I really don’t need that kind of problem in my own backyard if I can possibly avoid it, he thought. Then, with a grin, he remembered his dad’s old saying: Life doesn't always wait for the waters to calm.

Finally, Winter Hawk was well enough to assume his role around camp, and that in and of itself brought much joy to the group. In fact, Winter Hawk hit the ground running just in time for spring trapping, and trap they did.

The men were able to trap over three hundred beaver before the animals went out of prime. In the process, they about wiped out the beaver population in their valley. That made Harlan aware that this must be their last year in this location if they wanted to survive in the fur trade. They would have to move elsewhere after the summer rendezvous… and where he knew not.

Dismissing that thought for the moment, Harlan decided he would face that issue when the time came. In addition to the five hundred-plus beaver they had trapped, they had more than two hundred beaver from the men who had tried to kill them during the winter. In addition, they had twenty-one dressed wolf pelts, fifty-nine coyote pelts, a dozen river-otter skins, eighteen deer-hides, and twelve elk hides. Rounding out that complement, they had sixty-two muskrat hides from inadvertent catches, twenty raccoon hides, and fifteen pelts from both grizzly and black bear.

After the beaver went out of prime, they traded with their friends the Snakes. Here they unloaded most of their fusils (cheap flintlocks), red and blue beads, Green River skinning knives, extra flints, some powder and shot, and several kegs of uncut rum. In return, they received over sixty buffalo skins that had been tanned by tribal members during the winter months. All in all, aside from the shoot-out with the renegade trappers and the wounding of Winter Hawk, it had been an exceptional year, especially considering the affection Autumn Flower and Runs Fast were now openly showing for each other.

And it was about to get better—in fact, a whole lot better...

Chapter Sixteen

A Celebration Among Friends, and a Whole Lot More

Harlan and the boys peeped over the ridgeline and down into the draw some fifty yards below. About three hundred unwary buffalo were grazing there. The three of them took their shooting positions, and the killing began.

In about five minutes it was over, and twenty buffalo lay dead or dying when Harlan raised his hand to signify “enough.” From behind their shooting positions, the women brought the horse and mule string, now grown with the addition of the dead trappers’ animals to an almost being unruly number. The rest of the afternoon was spent in salvaging the best cuts of meat for the long trek back to the cabin in preparation for the next day’s feast and events to follow. What remained was left for the critters. After all, there were always more buffalo just over the next ridge...

Daylight the next morning found Harlan and crew busy around the cabins with three large roaring campfires. Their largest cast-iron pots were filled with generous chunks of buffalo meat and beans and set at the edge of the campfires to simmer. Smaller pots were also set around the fires to simmer with huge chunks of buffalo, spices, and rice to be added later.

Around the remaining two fires hung huge slabs of fresh buffalo meat staked on green willow limbs to roast slowly. Alongside the slabs of meat hung huge racks of ribs, skewered and sizzling in their abundant fat juices as well. Into their last two big pots went ten pounds each of dried fruit, sugar cones, and water to slowly simmer. This high-mountain concoction would soon provide a thick, sweet fruit compote that was a favorite among Indians and mountain men alike.

Last but not least, three large coffee pots were filled with water, and handfuls of coffee grounds were added to boil when the rest of the participants arrived from the Snake Indian village for the spring celebration that Harlan had promised after their shootout with the four renegade trappers.

About noon, Harlan heard the sounds of horses’ hooves breaking limbs and twigs, excited talking, and laughter along with the barking of dogs as Low Dog and his clan of sixty-plus Indians approached the trappers’ cabins. Harlan turned and faced the horde, giving the sign for welcome and peace. The sign was quickly returned by Low Dog, Meek, and others.

Telling Meek and the others to light down, Harlan welcomed them to the feast. There was little fanfare as the Indians unceremoniously dipped into every pot with their tin cups and plates. Then they commenced eating with their fingers, a few spoons, and their knives, accompanied by appreciative slurping and belching sounds. Great slabs of buffalo were stabbed from around the fires and gobbled down even when sizzling sounds were made as the roasting meat met their tongues and lips.

More meat was quickly added from their fresh meat stores, and just as fast as it cooked, it too was gobbled down as if the Indians hadn’t eaten in a month! Harlan and company were hard-pressed to keep the fires and pots supplied, but they had one hell of a cache of fresh meat, and it just kept coming until everyone had their fill.

Then, great cups of the sticky-sweet fruit mixture were ladled out and consumed with the same gusto as had the beans, rice, and buffalo meat. The camp dogs also feasted on the leavings. After a solid hour of gorging, Harlan brought out the “topping” as everyone lounged around the campfires, pleased with the feast and too full to move or even wiggle.

A barrel of two hundred stout Virginia tobacco cigars and a keg of rum rounded out the fare, to the delight of the Indians—especially the men and boys. Meek, on his third tin cup of rum, walked over to Harlan and said, “Harlan, you are a man of your word. This here get-together is one of the best I have ever been to. Hell, this is almost as good as our annual gatherings at the rendezvous.”

“I am glad you are happy, and I hope Low Dog is as well because I have a proposition for him,” Harlan said very seriously.

Meek, catching the tone, said, “I hope it is good news for the chief, Harlan, because he can be a son of a bitch if something catches him wrong.”

“Well, I hope so as well. Bail me out if I get in too deep, my friend,” said Harlan.

Meek’s answering look was satisfactory as far as the support thing, so Harlan proceeded.

Harlan raised his hand, and Big Eagle brought forth a beautifully tanned grizzly hide and placed it in the center of the group of Indians for the effect such a beast and the presentation had on them. The general noise and chatter began to diminish as the Indians realized something serious was in the wind. Harlan walked over to Low Dog and in his best Snake and sign beckoned for the chief to sit on the hide. This Low Dog proudly did with little fanfare, and Harlan sat across from him with a serious look on his face.

“Chief Low Dog,” he began, “for two years you have allowed me and my family to trap beaver in this beautiful valley under your protection. My family and I have prospered as a result of your generosity. This dinner has been my way of thanking you, in part, for that generosity.”

He raised his hand once again, and Winter Hawk entered the arena carrying twelve new beaver traps and a keg of powder. Following him was Big Eagle with several pigs of lead, a large bag of flints, and ten pounds of red glass trade beads.

By now the assembly of Indians had grown reverently silent over the developing ceremony. The boys returned again and placed at Low Dog’s feet the last of their Green River trade knives, several sharpening stones, fish hooks and line, and several axes. Low Dog’s eyes were as big as dinner plates at the stack of gifts before him.

“Now,” Harlan continued in a serious tone, “I would like to buy the one you call Dog Eater and add him as a member of my family!”

There was a stunned silence among the Indians, even more so than before. Meek’s jaw dropped and stayed there. Autumn Flower, still serving coffee to those who wanted it, dropped the pot, coffee and all, and stared at Harlan with fear in her eyes. As for Runs Fast, he stood frozen in time. No one but the two boys had known what Harlan had up his sleeve. As for the chief, he sat stunned by Harlan’s words.

Harlan went on, “I know how valuable this man is to you, but he would be of even more value to me. He could be the husband to Autumn Flower, a brother to my boys, an extra gun to help protect us, and a son to me.”

With those words, Harlan sat back and looked at the chief as if he had just asked him about the weather. The chief sat there and stared back. Finally, Low Dog said, “You are right. He is like a son to me, and for me to sell him to a trapper is not right. I will need him in my old age.”

Harlan knew he had lied about Runs Fast’s value and closeness to the chief. He caught a glint of greed crossing the chief’s eyes in a moment when Low Dog felt that Harlan was not looking closely at him.

One does not live long in the wilderness without the eye of an eagle and the quickness of a snake’s strike, Harlan thought smugly regarding the sly look Low Dog had just given him.

Autumn Flower had picked up the coffee pot and headed off to fill it again with water, coffee, and cones of sugar and set it by the fire to heat. She dared not look at Runs Fast for fear of collapsing in terror at Harlan’s bold approach to the powerful Snake chief.

Runs Fast found that he could hardly even breathe over what was being said between the two men. The proposition had caught him cold as well, and now he stood in terror at what the mighty chief’s words might be. Yes, he was in love with Autumn Flower, but he was a slave to the Snake chief, and as such his life was one of drudgery, subjugation, humiliation, and hard work.

“Before the great chief Low Dog makes up his mind, let him see what I have to offer to such an important man for one who is so lowly,” Harlan suggested, not wanting to let the chief off the hook.

He waved his hand again, and Big Eagle brought forth four horses! A ripple of surprise went through the assembled Indians at the wonder of such a gift in exchange for a lowly Crow Indian captured long ago.

Winter Hawk and Big Eagle also brought saddles and all the other tack belonging to the horses. Without fanfare, they then brought forward the three deceased trappers’ rifles, more powder, flints, and lead, laying them at Low Dog’s feet. Sitting in front of the chief was a small mountain of riches, far more than anyone could expect as the purchasing price of a human being!

Harlan raised his hand one more time, and the boys brought forth shiny brass pots, iron rings, a ten-pound bag of blue glass beads, and a mule loaded with tack! By now the chief was overwhelmed, and Harlan could see it in his eyes. To make matters worse for the chief, his two daughters and wife had seen the bags of beads and shiny pots. They were closing in on Low Dog and quietly offering their opinions on the matter.

Rising, the chief continued to look sternly at Harlan, but Meek was smiling because Harlan had overwhelmed the chief with more gifts than the old man had ever seen. Looking over at Runs Fast, the chief gestured that he should come forward. Runs Fast was frozen in place until someone pushed him from behind to get him moving in response to the chief’s request. Maintaining a stoic appearance, Runs Fast approached the chief and stood at his side as any obedient son would do.

“He is yours,” uttered the chief in clipped words as he pushed Runs Fast toward Harlan.

Sticking out his hand, Harlan said, “Then it is a deal. Runs Fast for these goods and the livestock.”

“It is a deal,” said the chief and then uttered in the same breath, “is there any more rum?” Many of the tribe squealed with delight as Harlan ordered his last keg of rum opened for his friends and in honor of his new son. Runs Fast just stood there looking at the smiling Harlan Waugh. Autumn Flower, on the other hand, was in her sister’s arms crying with joy.

Yes, this is becoming a rather substantial family, Harlan thought happily.

It wasn’t until late in the evening that the last Indian left the celebration. After the trade, Low Dog spent the next hour distributing his newfound wealth to other members of the tribe, in so doing showing all what a great chief he was. However, the glass beads, shiny brass pots, and iron rings stayed with his family at the insistence of his wife and two grown daughters.

As the fires died down and they were once again left to themselves, Autumn Flower threw herself into Harlan's arms, crying and talking all at once. Harlan smiled at this first showing of emotion since she had been purchased from the Northern Cheyenne chief. It felt good to get that kind of attention from his quiet daughter. The attention he got from his wife later in the evening was of a different nature, but it felt good as well...

As for Runs Fast, he was given several sleeping robes to sleep in outside the cabins and just told. “Good night.”

The following morning at daylight, Runs Fast had a roaring fire going and a quantity of buffalo meat roasting on willow sticks. The smell of roasting meat roused Harlan from his bed, whereupon he dressed and strode out to be with his new son. The two men sat quietly by the fire and were warmed by its flames.