Fair Land Fair Land - A B Guthrie Page 11

  Potter took time to laugh before saying, "Well taken, Brother. Maybe the Lord will forgive me." He sobered quickly. "But I understand what you're saying. The finish of a period. The termination of the kind of life you enjoy. I see it, too, and try to accept. All things come to an end. All things yield before new beginnings. Meantime, I put my faith in the Lord, who knows best."

  "And live while we can."

  "And live while we can — for the hereafter."

  20

  THE WIND came, wind that charged down from the mountains, wave on wave, and tore down the slopes and battered the tepees, wind with the bite of last winter in it. Summers could hear the gusts coming. First there was a sound like low thunder, or buffalo on stampede, then came the whistling shrieks and then the fierce blow.

  The trees and the underbrush slanted, and limbs flew, and the waters of the Teton whipped white, giving part of their spray to torn air.

  He went outside, bending low, and found ropes and ran them around the crowns of the tepees and tied them to stout trees. Inside, the smoke whirled, blown away from the smoke hole, and reddened eyes leaked water. To be understood, he and Teal Eye and the boys had to raise their voices, sounding frail against the voice of the wind.

  Teal Eye said, "Higgins, he will be coming back. He will fight the big wind."

  "In his face all the way, if it travels that far. All the way from the fort."

  He could picture Higgins, slumped low in the saddle, turning his head to catch his breath, and the horses with heads down, hating to face into the wind. Higgins had volunteered to see Brother Potter safe to the fort.

  He went out of the tepee and caught up and saddled a horse and rode it across the frothy water and up on the benchlands. Give him a piece of canvas, he thought, and he and the horse could sail. It wasn't that he considered Higgins in danger. Higgins would make out all right. It was just that he would like to see him. It was just that he wanted to make sure. Horses could turn ornery, and badger holes could break legs.

  The buffalo were returning from the south. He could make out four herds of them, sidewise to the wind, separate and mingling, then separating again as the leaders went their own ways. A world full of buffalo, but, even so, fewer than the bullets that would be fired. His horse flushed up a killdeer that fluttered briefly, sounding its two-toned cry, and ran off to the side on its thin, stilt legs. It was a wonder that all the birds, big and little, ground feeders and flycatchers, hadn't been swept from earth and sky and carried across the Missouri and way the hell beyond. He couldn't make out the figures of Higgins and the two horses though he willed his eyes to see over the lip of ground and sky. All he could see were buffalo and last year's grass thrashing.

  He turned back, heading into the wind, and kicked his balky horse. The wind pushed at them like a hard, cold hand. It tore at his buckskins, swept his hair back, drove dust into his eyes and trapped the air in his lungs. Get along, horse. It ain't that far.

  He got back to the tepees and unsaddled and went inside. To Teal Eye's asking look, he said, "Couldn't spot him, but he's on the way. Don't worry."

  "I not worry about that. Not much."

  "What then?"

  "Not the wind. He needs a good woman. Not right, it is, for him to have not."

  He smiled at her and put a hand on her head. She had a queer way of putting words, but it was something, how she had learned white man's talk. Nocansee spoke it, too, and Blackfoot to boot.

  "Not everybody can be so lucky as me," he told Teal Eye, still smiling.

  Now Nocansee spoke. "He will come when?"

  "Sundown, I'm bettin'."

  "I feel him gone."

  "Yep. But just wait. Hey, the wind"s easin' off."

  The wind had slowed to a breeze, and smoke from the fire, over which Teal Eye had put a pot, rose straight through the smoke hole. That was the way in this breezy country, Summers thought. Some still days but mostly with the air moving soft and then, ever so often, a wind that tormented a man and made life hard for things trying to grow.

  An hour or so later a voice called, "Anybody home?"

  They went out, all of them, to greet Higgins. He looked like something the wind had had fun with before it passed on. The horses had stems of dead grass in their manes. "I'm a mite tattered," he said, "but Preacher Potter's all right, safe back at the fort."

  "If you was any thicker with dust, I'd take you for sandstone," Summers told him. "Here. I'll see to the horses. You go down the river a ways and take off the top layer."

  They ate and afterward sat outside on robes, the boys nearby, in the hour of no wind. More often than not, Summers thought, this was the way of it. Whether the day was windy or breezy or not, a time of stillness, of quiet, came soon after sundown. It was as if the day begged pardon for being so rough.

  "I swear," Higgins said, "them young'ns have growed just while I been gone."

  "The boys sat beside Teal Eye, Lije quiet and safe between Nocansee's legs. With them that was usual.

  Teal Eye had been waiting her time. Now she said to Higgins, "A good woman. That is it. A good woman you need."

  "Truer words never came out of a mouth."

  "We find you a woman."

  "Now, lookee here. I ain't goin' to team up with just anybody. Not me. You got your mind on some Blackfoot girl you knowed from before?" Higgins sucked at his pipe.

  Summers shook his head. "Nope. Not that."

  "Why not? You done fine your own self."

  "That was special." Summers nodded his head in agreement. "No Blackfoot for you, though."

  "Why not?"

  "Too close to home. Marry a Blackfoot woman and you marry into the tribe. All her relatives and friends will come visitin'. That's nice up to a point. Kind of fambly-like. But after a week of feedin' and entertainin' company, you End the doin's tiresome. You want "em to be gone. But there'll come more kin and friends, eatin' your meat and all, makin' an Indian camp out of what we got. It's the way they think. What one's got, all's got. It's fair to say they'd treat you good if you visited them."

  "Where's Teal Eye's kin, then?"

  "They stay away," Teal Eye answered.

  "Here's the how of it," Summers added. "All right I tell, Teal Eye?"

  "Tell."

  "When Teal Eye's white man killed his friend and took off, more'n a few bucks wanted her for their third or second or even their first wife. That didn't set good with her. She hit 'em and clawed 'em and fought 'em off and kept runnin' away. Finally they gave up and kind of outlawed her."

  "Me, I have no people," Teal Eye said.

  "Now whoa there. You got the boys and me and Hig. Ain't we people?"

  She reached out to hold his hand. "My people," she said.

  "So, barrin' the Blackfeet, where do we look?" Higgins asked.

  "Away somewheres," Summers said. "I got me an idea. The Shoshones, now, they's lighter-hearted and merry and the women fair to the eye. I know 'em, some of 'em.'"

  "Might not be for me."

  "Might not, but I'm bettin' against it."

  "How far? How many sleeps?" Higgins asked.

  Summers shook his head. "It's a fair piece."

  Teal Eye got to her feet. "We go then? Sunup come?" Summers felt a growing excitement in her.

  "That might be pushin' things," he answered.

  "You got a program? Somethin' else on your mind?" Higgins asked.

  "I ain't sure."

  "I wouldn't want to throw you off your stride," Higgins told him.

  That was like Higgins, Summers thought. Always to put himself second. Like as not he knew what was in Summers' head. Find Boone Caudill — and then? Speak his piece and ride away? Make sense and right out of old wrongs? Why the damn itch?

  Teal Eye said, "We go. Please, we go."

  It struck him that she had been stuck here too long. She had taken care of the babies, done the cooking, kept the tepees clean and worked at what she shouldn't have but insisted on in spite of all orders. She might as well have b
een a damn slave. She needed to see folks. She needed change.

  Put first things first, he told himself. Put Teal Eye first. He rose to his feet. "Two sunups, and we break camp." Teal Eye clapped and ran to hug him. "Two sunups, and we go see can we find Higgins a wife."

  21

  SUMMERS led away. Behind him came three pack horses, then Higgins with two, Teal Eye and the boys. He had mounted the boys on a gentle horse and, for lack of a saddle, had rigged a surcingle, with handholds, out of rope and a strip of hide. Lije rode in front of Nocansee, who held to the surcingle with one hand and the small boy with the other.

  They sure-God were safe enough. Both had been around horses and, as if to make up for his blindness, Nocansee had a great sense of balance. There were pack horses enough, more than enough, so that each was lightly loaded.

  They splashed across the Teton near camp and set off down the wide valley. Light was flushing up from the eastern sky, and the meadowlarks, wakened, sang from the grasses. A good morning to set out. A good time to go before rain and the June rise of the rivers. Buffalo tramped along, going north, their hides rough with shedding hair. Calves trailed along, and wolves trailed behind, looking for a sick animal, or weakling, or for a chance at a cow giving birth.

  Summers breathed deep, smelling buffalo and grass dew and horses and high-country air. These made a man..These kept him alive.

  In country like this he had traveled with Jim Deakins and Caudill, and Deakins was full of funny questions about the why of things, about God's purposes and the end of it all. For him the end of it had come with a bullet.

  He looked behind him to make sure of things and got a smile from Teal Eye. They would have to cross the Teton again and make for a saddle between a couple of buttes. The buttes stood ragged and bright, catching the first rays of the sun. He would steer clear of the mountains, much as he could, riding to the east of them, in time coming onto the Oregon Trail, which wouldn't be busy yet. Then on to White Hawk's band of Shoshones. He hoped White Hawk was still alive.

  Boone Caudill, damn it and damn him. A good friend up to a point, but a friend only up to a point was no friend at all. The far side of the Teton was rattlesnake country, and he called back to those behind him, "Horses might shy. Be ready! Snakes around here."

  But it wasn't until they came to the saddle between the two buttes that they saw any snakes and then only a couple. Likely the weather was a mite cold for them yet.

  They pressed on, veering east. Before sundown Summers decided to make camp close by a little gulch where spring water flowed. It was time. Teal Eye and the boys had begun to look peaked and were probably sore in their seats.

  Dismounting, Summers said to Higgins, "Only risk here is snakes."

  "Not wild-ass buffalo?"

  "Nope."

  Teal Eye was already off her horse and was helping the boys down. All of them would sleep under the sky tonight.

  Summers and Higgins unloaded the pack horses and led them and the saddle stock down to drink. "Strange country to them," Summers said. "Better hobble "em all."

  Before they settled down, Summers walked circles around the camping place, making sure about snakes. Teal Eye had a fire going and meat in a pot.

  Higgins said, "Not an Injun so far, and nary a hide-hunter."

  "Poor season for hides," Summers told him. "Old hair sheddin' off and the new not full-growed. Still, some will hunt."

  "Where to tomorrow?"

  "Across the Medicine, then across the Missouri."

  "Every once in a while," Higgins said, gazing through the dusk and back to the mountains where the sun still lay on the peaks, "I think God was in a big way when he made this country."

  It was something Jim Deakins might have said.

  * * *

  The Missouri lay behind them, the Missouri and the Yellowstone and the Big Horn. Behind them were buttes and rolling plains and dry country thick with cactus. And here, on this sultry day, came the great migration of the buffalo. Here they were, hump after hump, horned heads and dull eyes. They came scattered and in close bunches, all moving north, and were slow to give way to the horses. They were like barnyard stock, Summers thought as his party rode south against the drift. It was as if their aim to move on had driven fear off. Summers watched for dust. Even on spring turf a running herd would kick up a plume of it. Let a lightning bolt strike among them, or a few get startled over whatever, and the fun would start. There would be lowing and bawlings and the thunder of hoofs, and a man caught in the middle had best find a hole or a pole, or shoot enough animals to make a wall to lie behind.

  He turned. Behind to his left rose a height of land crowned by a butte. "Keep your eye peeled, Hig," he said. "They get to runnin', and we'll all be pemmican."

  Higgins grinned his crooked grin. "Without chokecherries to sweeten it."

  Then, maybe half a mile ahead, Summers saw the first wave of dust. He saw animals bunching as they started to run, and those in front taking fright.

  "Quick|" he called back, gesturing with an arm. "Turn back. Run with the herd. Slant off to the butte." He wrenched his horse around. "Turn, damn it!"

  Teal Eye caught on, then Nocansee. Already Higgins had made his move. Summers dropped the pack rope. Let the pack horses take care of themselves. He moved up, said "Hang on," and with his rein ends lashed the horse that carried the boys.

  The buffalo were all running now, ahead of them, at the sides and behind. "Slant off. Slant off, Teal Eye!" He smacked her horse.

  He took the lead again. He stole a look back. Teal Eye was firm in the saddle, the boys still astride. Higgins had let loose of his pack horses. His voice rose hoarse, "Run, you bastards! Hi-yi. Hi-yi."

  It was all thunder and dust and wild throat sounds now.

  Summers shot into a running bunch that blocked the way to the butte, and a cow fell and another fell over it, then another. He rode through the gap, his head turned to the rear. They had to make it. They were making it. Lije wore a big grin.

  He reined around, poking a cow away with the muzzle of his gun. Here in the rear was the danger now, more than in front. The smell of sweating horses came to him, and a clot of horse lather flew back in his face. They were straining uphill, the horses winded but not slowing yet, and it seemed as if all of a sudden they were shut of the buffalo, well up on a butte where they could watch without risk.

  The pack horses straggled up, their packs lopsided, none lost or turned under belly. The horses stood hipshot, cooling off.

  Teal Eye gave him a smile. Lije yelled, "Hi-yi," and Higgins grinned.

  Higgins said, "To think them brutes is good to eat."

  "I never seen 'em charge a butte yet."

  * * *

  Over pipes that night Summers told Higgins, "We steer clear of the Big Horns."

  "If that's them I see yonder, I vote aye."

  "West of them is the place called Colter's Hell, where I never been. But south of there is Jackson's Hole, where I been more than once. Dave Jackson was a true mountain man."

  Higgins blew out a stream of smoke. "Was? What happened to him?"

  "Nobody knows. He was here and then he wasn't. He's not the only one."

  No, not the only one, Summers thought. They came, the mountain men did, and some drowned and some starved and some froze. Some got rubbed out by Indians or died in fights among themselves. Some fell off passes or got kicked by a horse or killed by a bear, like old Hugh Glass, who was too tough to die, though, and made it back to the Missouri, wounds and all. It made a man wonder how come anybody was left.

  Some died. No doubt about that. Mostly they died unbeknownst, with no graves to mark them, no signposts saying who, what or why. But would they have done different, knowing ahead? Likely not.

  They rode on the next day. It was a fair day, not bothersome hot, and birds sang and plants bloomed, and after a while they would find Higgins a wife.

  * * *

  The sun was touching the western mountains when Summers saw smoke. It could
be the smoke of Crows or Blackfoot or Sioux or who knew what. He reined in his horse. Higgins rode up beside him. "I ain't of a mind to circle around," Summers said. "We was bound to meet Indians when we took off. But we ain't a war party and got nothin' much to fear unless losin' a horse."

  Teal Eye had come up to look. "A man we could lose," she said. "Sioux mean people." She took Summers' arm. "Please, we go round."

  "Now, little duck," he answered, "you know me. I'm careful."

  With his arm he squeezed her hand against his ribs. "How else would I live so long?"

  She shook her head, asking please without saying it, and for a moment, moved by her concern, he thought of agreeing. But there couldn't be any real danger, so he answered, "We'll be all right."

  It was a camp, he saw as they drew nearer, of maybe thirty tepees. From the layout he guessed it was Blackfoot. The Indian dogs began to bark.

  A man walked toward them, unarmed. Summers got off his horse and handed his Hawken to Higgins. He stepped toward the man, making the peace sign. The man was Blackfoot all right. His different beaded moccasins told that. He wore old buckskins. His hair was plaited without so much as a feather in it, nor was there paint on his face. He might be fifty or so years old.

  Summers said, "How," as the man made the peace sign.

  "How," the man answered. He put a pointing finger to his chest, "Heavy Runner, me."

  "Dick Summers, me."

  The man's dark, squinched-up eyes examined him. "You are Bear Maker. No?" Summers nodded. "You have the Blackfoot wife?"

  "Teal Eye, her name."

  They had been talking partly with hands, partly with voices. Summers went on, "You are chief. I know from the big fort."

  "Come. My lodge. We will smoke."

  Summers waved a come-on to his mates and waited for them. When Teal Eye came up, she said, "It is Blackfoot camp. Not my friends."

  "It's Chief Heavy Runner. He's got nothin' against you."

  Men, women and children, having word from the chief, began moving toward them from the camp. Dogs trotted along with them. Indians always had dogs.

  After the business of getting acquainted and getting settled was over, Summers and Higgins and a couple of head men smoked in Heavy Runner's lodge that night. Summers said, asking, "It is not yet the time of the hunt. It is not the chief' s hunting ground."