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people there?” asked Rachel.
“That place is usually empty on Sundays,” said Jedidiah. “That man reminds me of an Indian that used to roam these parts. Mean son of a bitch. He didn’t like people being in his territory. Didn’t matter if they were Indian or white. If you wandered into his territory, he killed you.”
I just stared at Jedidiah wondering what the point of his story was. Who cares about some Indian that lived over 130 years ago when Jackie’s life was in danger?
“The proper term is Native American,” said Gil. I guess he not only heard Jedidiah, but saw him as well. It was Rachel who remained invisible while still holding the shovel.
“He was no more native to this land than I was,” said Jedidiah, “And it doesn’t matter what the proper term is. I have spent the last thirty years watching people come out to this Dude Ranch, as you call it, with their fancy gadgets, strange dress, and snobbish attitudes. They think that by coming out here for a week they are learning what it was like to settle this land.
“In my day the only heat you got was from the kindling you were able to gather. Your food was what you killed or managed to grow. There was no relief from the heat in the summer. Water was what you could dig out of the ground not something you bought at a store.
“You modern folk think you know so much with your gadgets and fancy reading material. You think that those of us who left our comfortable homes in the east and came out here did so because we wanted to kill Indians or rob them. Well, I got news for you. Those of us who came here were looking for a better life. We had nothing back home after the war and we just wanted to be left alone. I came out here after some carpetbagger conned me out of my savings and a bunch of drunken Yankees burned what property I had left.
“When I came to these parts I found a harsh and uninviting land that was colder than the ice queen herself. The people who settled here had to be just as tough. My first winter here I came upon an Indian boy. He had gotten caught in a blizzard and separated from his family. His foot had turned black and I brought him to the nearest outpost w here the surgeon amputated it.
“Sometime later, I was out trapping animals when a blizzard sprang up. It was mid-January and I should have known better. Two days I wandered around until I could walk no more. A few days later that same Indian boy found me, though he had become a man by then. He must have recognized me because he returned the favor by bringing me t o the nearest Calvary outpost.
“Of course by then both my legs had turned black and were amputated. I remember every bit of it. I died a few days later from infection. You want to know who stayed by my bed the entire time? That Indian boy. He even said the words at my funeral.
“So don’t you ever try to brand me as some Indian hater. I know more about their ways and have more respect for them that you will ever have. The only thing you know about them is probably what you’ve seen on that box with the moving pictures.
“Now you may not have liked my story about the murdering Redskin, but the moral is the same. That Poppy character is just like the Indian that hunted people down for pleasure. Do you honestly think he will let any of you live once he gets the gold? He ain’t going to risk letting you turn him into the law.”
“So what are you saying?” I asked.
“It’s a trap,” replied Jedidiah. “You give him those bags and he will kill you and your friend.”
“So what do we do?” I asked.
“Well first, I need to get up there and get that rope so you can get out. Unless those two remember how they got down here.”
Gil and Stark looked at each and shrugged their shoulders. “We don’t remember,” said Stark. “We ended up down here by a happy circumstance.”
“So how were you going to get out with the
“That place is usually empty on Sundays,” said Jedidiah. “That man reminds me of an Indian that used to roam these parts. Mean son of a bitch. He didn’t like people being in his territory. Didn’t matter if they were Indian or white. If you wandered into his territory, he killed you.”
I just stared at Jedidiah wondering what the point of his story was. Who cares about some Indian that lived over 130 years ago when Jackie’s life was in danger?
“The proper term is Native American,” said Gil. I guess he not only heard Jedidiah, but saw him as well. It was Rachel who remained invisible while still holding the shovel.
“He was no more native to this land than I was,” said Jedidiah, “And it doesn’t matter what the proper term is. I have spent the last thirty years watching people come out to this Dude Ranch, as you call it, with their fancy gadgets, strange dress, and snobbish attitudes. They think that by coming out here for a week they are learning what it was like to settle this land.
“In my day the only heat you got was from the kindling you were able to gather. Your food was what you killed or managed to grow. There was no relief from the heat in the summer. Water was what you could dig out of the ground not something you bought at a store.
“You modern folk think you know so much with your gadgets and fancy reading material. You think that those of us who left our comfortable homes in the east and came out here did so because we wanted to kill Indians or rob them. Well, I got news for you. Those of us who came here were looking for a better life. We had nothing back home after the war and we just wanted to be left alone. I came out here after some carpetbagger conned me out of my savings and a bunch of drunken Yankees burned what property I had left.
“When I came to these parts I found a harsh and uninviting land that was colder than the ice queen herself. The people who settled here had to be just as tough. My first winter here I came upon an Indian boy. He had gotten caught in a blizzard and separated from his family. His foot had turned black and I brought him to the nearest outpost w here the surgeon amputated it.
“Sometime later, I was out trapping animals when a blizzard sprang up. It was mid-January and I should have known better. Two days I wandered around until I could walk no more. A few days later that same Indian boy found me, though he had become a man by then. He must have recognized me because he returned the favor by bringing me t o the nearest Calvary outpost.
“Of course by then both my legs had turned black and were amputated. I remember every bit of it. I died a few days later from infection. You want to know who stayed by my bed the entire time? That Indian boy. He even said the words at my funeral.
“So don’t you ever try to brand me as some Indian hater. I know more about their ways and have more respect for them that you will ever have. The only thing you know about them is probably what you’ve seen on that box with the moving pictures.
“Now you may not have liked my story about the murdering Redskin, but the moral is the same. That Poppy character is just like the Indian that hunted people down for pleasure. Do you honestly think he will let any of you live once he gets the gold? He ain’t going to risk letting you turn him into the law.”
“So what are you saying?” I asked.
“It’s a trap,” replied Jedidiah. “You give him those bags and he will kill you and your friend.”
“So what do we do?” I asked.
“Well first, I need to get up there and get that rope so you can get out. Unless those two remember how they got down here.”
Gil and Stark looked at each and shrugged their shoulders. “We don’t remember,” said Stark. “We ended up down here by a happy circumstance.”
“So how were you going to get out with the
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