Read Online Fair Land, Fair Land by A. B. Guthrie Jr. - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: A. B. Guthrie Jr.
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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hump,
hoss."
" What I taken notice of," Higgins told him,
"was them chokecherries. Leaves mostly dead, but there's them
berries, black, ripe and ready. What say we tie up and try a few?
Been a long time between fruits."
They filled their mouths, blowing out the seeds
through the tunnels they made with their tongues. After he had
satisfied himself, Summers took out his knife and cut a bundle of
loaded branches. He laid them on the trail, knowing that Higgins was
shaking his head.
" I figure," he said, coming back, "that
Old Ephraim would have a hard time, strippin' branches with only one
paw."
" That damn bear ha'nts you."
Perhaps it did, Summers thought. Perhaps he was
playing the fool. But there was that other time, there were those
other times, those other Ephraims, those other nights under the moon,
and a man, looking sharp, might see the bear standing at the far edge
of light, a curious onlooker at the doings of men.
" I want he should build up his strength,"
he told Higgins.
" He's bound to follow the grub trail, and I
don't like the idee, him on my ass forever."
" Now, not forever, Hig. Pret" soon, he'll
hole up for the winter, and he needs meat on his bones and food in
his belly for the long sleep. And he ain't goin' to hurt you nor me.
I'm thinkin' he knows his friends, that I am."
Higgins grunted but managed a smile before he mounted
his horse. "You're a damn notionable man. Some would say soft."
" Some have."
" And learned better?"
"Maybe a few."
Before too long, Summers thought, they would ride out
of the mountains, and the eye would ramble while the west wind blew
soft, and the lungs would fill with air that was better than liquor
in the belly. Yet he felt a little like holding back, like waiting,
like wanting certainty.
He straightened in the saddle, knowing that muzzling
over what might be had dulled his senses. Approaching them, a rifle
in his hand, was a man on horseback.
The man rode slow, squinting for better sight, one
hand fast on the rifle. At last he raised a hand and called out,
"How-de-do there, gents."
Summers lifted an arm and said, "How."
" I couldn't tell was you Injuns or not,"
the man told them as he approached. "It's them ring-tailed caps.
Look like braids."
Summers sat silent. So did Higgins behind him.
The man had a red face and a belly that hated a belt.
He had gear on his saddle — a bedroll tied behind the cantle and
stuff in the saddle pockets.
" My name's Brewer. People call me Hank,"
the man went on.
" I'm tryin' to search out the biggest goddamn
bear a man ever see. You spot any blood on the trail?"
" Blood?" Summers said, turning toward
Higgins. "I don't recollect any blood. How about you?"
" Nary a drop."
" It was like this," Brewer said. "I
was huntin' buffalo, two or three days down the line, and I seen this
here monster and fired. Hit him, too. He made off into the bushes
with a foreleg floppin'."
Summers asked, "When?"
" Four, five days ago. I figured it best to let
him stiffen up or bleed himself weak and not tackle him
fresh-wounded. But I had a time, then, findin' enough buffalo to keep
my skinners busy. That's what held me up. Mainly, that is." The
man's smile had a hungry and remembering look. "I wasted time
yesterday tryin' to make up to a squaw. Damndest thing. There she
was, alone except for a young'n, camped in a coulee and kind of
hidden away. You know how a man gets away from women. Hard up, that"s
what I was. So I begged like and, bein' a fair man, offered a blanket
and even some money, and all the time she held an old musket pointed
straight at my gut. Crazy, I call it."
Brewer looked at Summers for approval. "But that
ain't here or there. It's the bear I"m after."
" Judgin' by the bore of that rifle, you could
shoot a horse turd through it and not grease the barrel,"
Summers said.
Brewer patted the rifle's stock. "I had it made
to order, my order, and, by God, you shoot a critter with it any old
place and down it goes."
" Too bad it
hoss."
" What I taken notice of," Higgins told him,
"was them chokecherries. Leaves mostly dead, but there's them
berries, black, ripe and ready. What say we tie up and try a few?
Been a long time between fruits."
They filled their mouths, blowing out the seeds
through the tunnels they made with their tongues. After he had
satisfied himself, Summers took out his knife and cut a bundle of
loaded branches. He laid them on the trail, knowing that Higgins was
shaking his head.
" I figure," he said, coming back, "that
Old Ephraim would have a hard time, strippin' branches with only one
paw."
" That damn bear ha'nts you."
Perhaps it did, Summers thought. Perhaps he was
playing the fool. But there was that other time, there were those
other times, those other Ephraims, those other nights under the moon,
and a man, looking sharp, might see the bear standing at the far edge
of light, a curious onlooker at the doings of men.
" I want he should build up his strength,"
he told Higgins.
" He's bound to follow the grub trail, and I
don't like the idee, him on my ass forever."
" Now, not forever, Hig. Pret" soon, he'll
hole up for the winter, and he needs meat on his bones and food in
his belly for the long sleep. And he ain't goin' to hurt you nor me.
I'm thinkin' he knows his friends, that I am."
Higgins grunted but managed a smile before he mounted
his horse. "You're a damn notionable man. Some would say soft."
" Some have."
" And learned better?"
"Maybe a few."
Before too long, Summers thought, they would ride out
of the mountains, and the eye would ramble while the west wind blew
soft, and the lungs would fill with air that was better than liquor
in the belly. Yet he felt a little like holding back, like waiting,
like wanting certainty.
He straightened in the saddle, knowing that muzzling
over what might be had dulled his senses. Approaching them, a rifle
in his hand, was a man on horseback.
The man rode slow, squinting for better sight, one
hand fast on the rifle. At last he raised a hand and called out,
"How-de-do there, gents."
Summers lifted an arm and said, "How."
" I couldn't tell was you Injuns or not,"
the man told them as he approached. "It's them ring-tailed caps.
Look like braids."
Summers sat silent. So did Higgins behind him.
The man had a red face and a belly that hated a belt.
He had gear on his saddle — a bedroll tied behind the cantle and
stuff in the saddle pockets.
" My name's Brewer. People call me Hank,"
the man went on.
" I'm tryin' to search out the biggest goddamn
bear a man ever see. You spot any blood on the trail?"
" Blood?" Summers said, turning toward
Higgins. "I don't recollect any blood. How about you?"
" Nary a drop."
" It was like this," Brewer said. "I
was huntin' buffalo, two or three days down the line, and I seen this
here monster and fired. Hit him, too. He made off into the bushes
with a foreleg floppin'."
Summers asked, "When?"
" Four, five days ago. I figured it best to let
him stiffen up or bleed himself weak and not tackle him
fresh-wounded. But I had a time, then, findin' enough buffalo to keep
my skinners busy. That's what held me up. Mainly, that is." The
man's smile had a hungry and remembering look. "I wasted time
yesterday tryin' to make up to a squaw. Damndest thing. There she
was, alone except for a young'n, camped in a coulee and kind of
hidden away. You know how a man gets away from women. Hard up, that"s
what I was. So I begged like and, bein' a fair man, offered a blanket
and even some money, and all the time she held an old musket pointed
straight at my gut. Crazy, I call it."
Brewer looked at Summers for approval. "But that
ain't here or there. It's the bear I"m after."
" Judgin' by the bore of that rifle, you could
shoot a horse turd through it and not grease the barrel,"
Summers said.
Brewer patted the rifle's stock. "I had it made
to order, my order, and, by God, you shoot a critter with it any old
place and down it goes."
" Too bad it
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