The Two Sams: Men of the West. F. M. Worden

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ a fair shot” Sam tried not to be a bragger. John told Sam as he walked away “Come with me.”

      They walked about a hundred yards. John pinned a playing card on a tree. “Now let’s go back and see if-n you’s can hit her.”

      Back by the fire, Sam took his rifle, primed the pan and cocked the Hawkins. “Wait boy.” John said. “I believe the boys are gonna make a few wagers.” It took a few minutes. The bets were on. “Go ahead, hit her if-n you’s can.”

      Sam leveled the rifle, set the trigger and let her fly. A dead center hit. John slapped Sam on the back and said, “Good as any man can do in this outfit, you’re on boy.”

      John introduced the men. “That there feller by the fire is named Tom Fitzpatrick. The big black man beside him is Jim Beckworth. Them men you want on your side in a fight. The man with a full beard is Hugh Glass, another man you shore can count on. Jebediah Smith is the feller sucking on the jug, he’ll back your play any time, if-n he’s your friend. We’re waiting for the Sublette brothers and their friends. Soon as they get here, we’re on the way to the Gila river country.”

      The next day the Sublette brothers and seven of their friends arrived. A day later the group packed up and headed for the Gila wilderness country in the Mexico territory. Sam was on his way to be a trapper.

      John gave Sam a job. Hunt camp meat, help gather fire wood and keep eyes pealed for Indians. He told Sam they would help make him some buckskin clothes when they got enough hides to do it. “Then you’s be a real mountain man.” Sam was very successful hunting game. He had deer meat in camp every night. All the men praised him for it.

      He was away from camp hunting when he spotted a large buck moving thru the timber. He followed it intently. He got a clean shot and brought it down. He approached it carefully. Seeing his shot had hit its mark he started dressing the buck.

      He never knew what hit him. When he gained consciousness, darkness was falling on the forest. He tried to move. His hands were tied at the wrists, his feet tied together at the ankles. Hands and arms over his head. He could see he was stretched between two small sapling pines. His head was bursting. The taste of blood in his mouth. His body was sore all over. He could hardly move. The smell of pine wood burning, flooded into his nostrils. His eyes burned. He could, by bending his neck, see Indian figures moving around the fires. The moon cast shafts of light thru the trees.

      “Captured! Is this to be my end? Am I to die by the hand of a savage?” The first time in his life he prayed to God. “If I am to die here, please God, make it fast.”

      The long night seemed to never end. A minute seemed an hour, an hour seemed forever. The moon went down. Total darkness. It rained for what seemed like hours. No way he could sleep, he couldn’t turn or roll, his body just got sorer and sorer.

      Morning light came thru the trees. The Indians woke from their sleep. Fires were being made. Sam could see most of the people were squaws moving around. One old one came to look at him. She gave him a hard kick in the side. She said something he didn’t understand and went away. Several more squaws came to look and all had something to give him, a hard kick in the side.

      When the sun was high, a small girl, barely walking, came and stood over him and smiled. He smiled back and licked his lips. She went away and returned with a gourd filled with water. She let it run slowly into his mouth. It was so good. He tried to tell her with his eyes and smile. She left and returned with an older girl of maybe twelve or early teens. She, from a gourd, with her fingers, put a dried ground wet meat in his mouth. He ate and smiled between mouth fulls. She talked to him, not in Indian but in Mexican. When they finished, they both left.

      Later that day a tall painted Indian came to see him. He checked to see if he was still tied. Several other young men came to look. One pulled his knife across his throat as if cutting and pointed his finger at Sam.

      Night fell again, a long miserable night. The morning light brought a surprise. Two, what looked to Sam as black men, stood over him. The tall painted Indian was with them. One of the blacks cut the bounds holding his hands and feet. Told him to set up. Sam did not speak, just looked at them wide eyed.

      One of the blacks said “Boy we own you, we just paid a pound of coffee beans for you and a bottle of whisky... Don’t utter a word until we’re free of this camp. These people are Mesculero Apaches, the toughest and meanest of all the Apache tribes.”

      Sam followed their instructions as the best he could. A pony was brought up and Sam was loaded on. He was told, “Hang on, we’re a leaving.”

      Somehow Sam managed to stay on, although weak. In a few miles they stopped to make camp. He was lifted off and set against a tree.

      His wounds were attended to. His wrists were bleeding from the rawhide ties. The back of his head cut deep and bleeding. At least he was alive and thankful to the Lord. He thanked the Lord out loud.

      The men asked his name and told him who they were, Charles and William Bent.

      “We’ve been in these mountains for years now,” they told Sam. “You’re a lucky boy, that tall painted Apache is Victorio the war chief of the Mescalero tribe. He’d soon kill as look at you, why he didn’t, we don’t know.”

      Sam told of the little girls that helped him. “Who are they?” he asked.

      “The older one is Mexican, was captured years ago. She’s Victorious woman, the little one is their daughter.”

      Sam asked about his rifle. Had they seen it? Did they get it? Charles told him that the war chief took the gun for his own. He kept saying, “You must be a good shot and warrior to have such a fine rifle. We think that’s why he didn’t kill you.”

      Sam felt better each passing day. The three traveled southwest. In four days they came to John Colters camp. Such a surprise. “Sam,” he said, “We shore figured you’s a goner. We saw where a kill was made, with all the blood, we could see where them savages’ drug something off with their pony’s. Shore glad you made it back. I’ll tell you Bents, this is one hell of man.”

      Charles told John, “He’s had a bad time. Been plumb to hell and back. He needs some time to get over it.”

      John asked if the Bents would go with em to the Gila? “We sure will” answered William, “We been gonna go down in that country for sometime. Looks like it’s a good time to go now.”

      John told them “We pull out in first thing in the morn-n.”

      In two days of travel the party hit the head waters of the Gila. The river was teeming with beaver and muskrat. All the men gave a big war hoop as they had hit the biggest pot of gold they could ever have dreamed of. All the country they were in was New Mexico Territory. It would be death to gringos if caught by the Mexican army.

      The party stayed on the Gila for most of two years. They never saw any sign of the Mexican Army. Sam learned to trap and cure the pelts. His biggest job was hunting and cooking for the men.

      They sent pack trains north and east with mules loaded with as much as they could carry. On each return trip, more mules were purchased, more pelts were sent.

      In the spring of the second year the group felt they must move to more lucrative country, the trapping became slow on the Gila.

      The party headed north. Sam and three others were to scout ahead and leave СКАЧАТЬ