The Saga of Harlan Waugh (The Mountain Men) (23 page)

But the trapping was good, and despite the foul weather, they managed to catch another forty-three beaver and sixteen river otter. Realizing another week might be all they had before bad weather set in, the men continued trapping with a fury they had never applied before. However, the long days wading in deep, icy waters to set their traps and working late into the night hooping the skins finally took their toll.

One morning Harlan called a halt to the hard work and asked Big Eagle to kill a deer so they could cook the whole thing that night for dinner instead of eating jerky. Big Eagle complied, and even though they were big meat eaters, the men could not finish the whole deer. There was just enough left for breakfast the following morning.

Fixing their gear, packing the furs into loose bundles, and repairing their clothing and tack, the men spent a busy day in camp. The partial week had gone well. By Harlan’s rough calculation, they now had almost three hundred beaver skins in total, which, if the price held, would be worth about nine hundred dollars at the next rendezvous. That amount was two or three times what most men made per year in those days.

They still had the winter trapping of other furbearers such as fox, wolf, coyote, and lynx before them, and those furs they could trade with the Crow. They could also trade the buffalo hides from the hunts with the Crows. Things are looking good for the next year, Harlan thought as he hooped the last beaver, and they still had spring beaver trapping ahead of them.

Harlan had never been happier, especially with his firstborn due sometime in February.

* * *

Winter finally roared out of the north, almost catching Harlan and his group on the open plains as they returned home from their beaver-trapping excursion. They had hit the northern reaches of the Stillwater and cleaned it out of beaver on this last trip. They had another fifty-nine beaver plews for their efforts, but they had earned everything they had caught.

Big Eagle had taken a spill in deep, fast-moving water and almost drowned. Harlan had caught a branch in his left eye while on horseback when he was not looking and damned near lost the eye. A week later, he was still seeing double with it.

As for Winter Hawk, he had run into a grizzly feeding on a dead moose carcass who had instantly charged and managed to slash his right leg with four large claw marks an inch deep before he could escape. Only Runs Fast had escaped damage of any kind.

Turning south from the dense forest, all the men were relieved when their cabins hove into sight, along with the thirty or so tepees of White Bear’s clan.

The usual homecoming awaited them as the men tended to their worn-out stock. The smell from the cooking fire was overwhelming, and the entire clan fell to moose and rice stew with biscuits.

As he finished his second plate of food, Harlan noticed White Bear walking across the dried grass meadow toward him. Getting up, Harlan greeted his friend. They spoke of the latest trapping trip and of going hunting together soon for more buffalo. Then White Bear told Harlan that the clan was breaking up into three smaller groups and moving off into different winter quarters so there would be enough grass throughout the winter for their pony herds. He said his clan would be moving the shortest distance away, about five miles to the east into the Bear Creek Valley.

“There will be much grass, water, and firewood, plus cover from the north winds in the draws of the valley. However, before we go, my group wants to trade our buffalo hides and beaver to you, my brother. With those, we hope to get additional winter supplies,” White Bear said with his characteristic smile. There was no talk about the mysterious shod and unshod pony tracks discovered earlier.

Harlan said, “Have them come tomorrow, and we will trade. Now, my brother, how about some very fine moose meat and rice stew?”

The following day turned out clear but cool. Surrounding Harlan’s cabin was a gaily dressed crowd of Crow Indians trading various furs and deer, elk, and buffalo hides for the supplies the trappers held in their cabins.

At the end of the day, Harlan had acquired ninety buffalo hides, one hundred and fifty-two beaver plews, sixty deer- hides, and twenty-four elk hides, all beautifully tanned by the Crow women. They still had a vast treasure of supplies for spring trading, and Harlan knew his group would do very well at the next rendezvous or nearest trading post regardless of beaver-plew prices.

The day following the trading session, the Indians broke into smaller bands and, after many good-byes, left for their winter camps several miles away. Hardest hit was Big Eagle because with the clan breakup went the woman who was becoming the love of his life.

Walking up to Big Eagle and putting his hand on his shoulder, Harlan said, “There is nothing stopping you from riding over and visiting them when your work here is done.”

Big Eagle turned and said, “I will visit her many times, Father, for I love her so.”

The two men continued watching the last Indian caravan disappear into the river bottoms to the east.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Destiny from Beyond the North Wind

The winter snows seemed to be holding off from covering the land that December in Montana, unlike many years past. In fact, many warm winds blew, and the buffalo herds were everywhere, making killing easy for the trappers and Indians alike. Numerous community roasting fires that winter supplied many meals of the rich buffalo meat and joyfulness among the various visiting Indian families, but it couldn’t last—and wouldn’t.

“We should be back in no more than three days,” said Harlan, as he and the boys made ready to run their trap-line of snares, deadfalls, and leg-hold traps in the forest to the west.

“Please be careful,” said Birdsong. “I have had bad feelings from the evil spirits ever since you and the boys discovered those unknown horse tracks. I don’t know why I should, but I just have a feeling of bad things to happen.”

Gathering her body, now bulging and heavy with the baby, into his arms, Harlan said, “Don’t let your Indian way of life scare you. I won’t let the evil spirits get you, not as long as I am alive and nearby to protect you. You have Timber at hand to warn you and your firearms in case things get serious. Martha, the bell mule, will let you know if anyone comes within seeing distance. If you like, go stay with White Bear and his clan. They would love to see all of you. But when you do, be sure to take some gifts of coffee, sugar, tobacco, and salt.”

“Maybe you are right,” Birdsong said. “This time when you are gone we will visit White Bear’s clan. I will feel safer that way, with the baby and all. Autumn Flower and I will go visit, so when you come home, you will know where to find us. We will come back once a day to water and feed our horses and mules.” She gave Harlan her usual beautiful smile.

Harlan gave Birdsong a loving pat on the bottom as Runs Fast let Autumn Flower go from his arms as well. Big Eagle and Winter Hawk just smiled from atop their horses.

It sure is good to be part of such a loving family, Winter Hawk thought proudly.

Entering the dark timber, Harlan, ever mindful of “the way,” kept his eyes peeled and listened to the wildlife around him for any sign of danger. He wouldn’t have said as much to Birdsong, but he too had felt a certain uneasiness, though it was nothing he could put his finger on.

The trapping was now at hand, and he put the bad thoughts out of his mind for the duration, blaming them on his worry about being a father for the first time.

Approaching their first snare, they discovered that it held a beautiful pine marten. For the next two days, the men found that their traps and snares had managed to catch numerous high- class furbearing animals. At night, they would sit around a small campfire designed not to draw any unwanted attention while they skinned and hooped the hides. By day three, the weather had turned threatening once again, with numerous banks of dark gray clouds stacking up in the northwest, from whence most of their storms came.

Realizing this could be the hard winter weather they had been expecting for months, Harlan told the boys, “Saddle up. We are heading for home in time to beat that weather, which can’t be more than two or three days out.”

Backtracking their trap-line, they sprang the remaining snares and deadfalls. In the process, they also picked up their valuable leg-hold traps for next season’s trapping. As they headed out after finishing, Harlan was pleased. They were ahead of the storm, their pack animals were loaded with numerous high-grade furs, and none of the men had had any mishaps this time.

Rounding the meadow by their camp, Harlan was surprised not to see smoke coming from the cabins’ fireplaces. After all, the wives had known they would be home this day. Guess the women are still at White Bear’s camp, he thought.

Then he noticed that all the horses and mules were in the corral, looking a little out of sorts with impatient hoof stomping, eating the wood off the railings, and the like. That be strange, he thought.

Stepping off his horse, he walked over to the animals. The hobbles were still where he had left them three days earlier. That meant they hadn’t been used. If that was the case, the horses hadn’t been let out to feed or water since the men had left to go trapping three days earlier. That would explain their strange behavior in the corral, Harlan thought as worry began to build. That is not like those women to neglect our livestock because they are our lifeline, he thought with more than a little concern now welling up from deep inside.

The boys checked out the cabins and found all to be intact as they had left them. Then the men fell to hobbling the horses and mules in the corral to let them out to feed and water. They also hobbled their pack mules after unloading the furs and equipment from their recent trapping trip. Off those mules went to join their buddies, now happily feeding and watering in the meadow. Then the men remounted their tired horses and, without a word, rode toward White Bear’s camp five miles to the east with more than a little apprehension.

Coming off the prairie rim overlooking White Bear’s camp nestled in the creek bottom below, the men were shocked at what greeted their eyes.

Lying before them was White Bear’s camp, or what was left of it. All the tepees had been burned, and clothing and equipment were scattered everywhere, as were the bodies of men, women, and children and the camp dogs.

Racing off the prairie rim and into the creek bottom, the four men stormed into camp, vaulted off their horses, and began searching among the bodies for their loved ones. Big Eagle found White Bear. His hands had been cut off, and he had been disemboweled and scalped. Next to him lay his wife and several other of the camp’s women who had run to the chief’s tent for protection.

Then Winter Hawk yelled. At his feet lay Timber, shot several times and filled with arrows. It was obvious that he had died defending his mistress. Next to him lay Birdsong. Her pistol was empty, and her knife hand was bloodied where she had obviously stabbed someone in the fight.

By her side lay her sister, Autumn Flower, whose pistol had been fired as well. Both women’s bodies had been mutilated, and their babies had been cut from their bellies and tossed aside. Both babies were boys. They never found Autumn Flower’s daughter. It seemed that every one of White Bear’s immediate clan, about twenty-five in number, had been slaughtered by a surprise hostile Indian attack.

Harlan remembered Birdsong’s concern over the evil spirits and the feeling he’d had of that he might be holding the love of his life for the last time before they’d left camp that morning. Runs Fast just stood with tears streaming down his face, saying nothing.

Winter Hawk was in shock and starting to tremble as he had as a boy after the attack on his village. Then Big Eagle yelled! He had discovered the body of the love of his life and turned away, vomiting. She too had been mutilated, but not before she had been ravaged many times.

Harlan was numb, raging, and stunned all at the same time. Never had he seen so much absolute destruction of a camp and the people living within. There wasn’t one person who was not mutilated, scalped, or shot full of arrows.

Standing in the center of this butchery, Harlan found a towering rage building inside like he had never felt before. He wanted to kill those responsible for creating this scene, and he wanted the killing to take a long time and to be of the most violent kind. He found that he was incapable of tears, just the kind of vengeance, welling up inside like stinging bile, that is wreaked only on the most evil of things—and then only after asking God’s forgiveness in advance.

With few words, the men begin burying their dead after wrapping them in buffalo robes. They placed the bodies of the women and their children in a nearby stand of oak trees, up off the ground and facing to the east, together as sisters for eternity.

Then the men heard the sound of horses coming across the shortgrass prairie. Grabbing their Hawkens, to a man they thought, If the horses belong to the men who did this, they will meet their maker here and now!

Over the ridge rode a band of Crow buffalo hunters, led by Limps-Ahead-of-His-Horses, who were coming to White Bear’s village to see if anyone wanted to go hunting. They were not prepared for what they saw and almost turned on their trapper friends, thinking they were responsible for the carnage, until they realized what had happened. A runner was sent back to their village to warn the others of the deadly events in White Bear’s village and to send relatives back to help in burying the dead.

Harlan, along with his boys, attempted to trace the signs of the attack before the sign was wiped out by the arrival of more Crow from nearby villages. Soon they discovered the route of attack and the place where the killers had holed up until daylight greeted them on that fateful day.

They had ridden over the rim and right into White Bear’s camp before anyone could get organized and, being of superior numbers, slaughtered everyone. From examination of the ground, Harlan deduced that there had been about thirty Indians in the raiding party—and eight others riding shod horses!