Read Online The Saga of Harlan Waugh (The Mountain Men) by Terry Grosz - Free Book Online
Authors: Terry Grosz
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them.
***
Soon the sight of heavily laden trapper pack strings and great swarms of gaily dressed Indians moving into the valley became an everyday occurrence. People were streaming into Willow Valley by the score in anticipation of the rendezvous and festivities such as drinking, foot races, shooting matches, whoring around, squaw trading, and horse trading. They were also eager for the latest news about who had made it through the winter and who had perished by accident, been eaten by a bear, or lost his hair to hostile Indians.
Soon tepees and lean-tos dotted the valley floor along the many creeks and cottonwood groves in anticipation of being supplied for the coming season. Come the first of July, however, no supply trains graced the valley.
As it turned out, Thomas Fitzpatrick had gone unsuccessfully to St. Louis for backing and supplies for the Cache, or Willow Valley, Rendezvous. Then Smith, Sublette, and Jackson, who were new owners of the company responsible for providing supplies to the current rendezvous, had gone clear to Santa Fe to check out the trapping and trade opportunities in that area and to procure supplies for the 1831 rendezvous.
En route, Jed Smith was killed by Comanche Indians on the Cimarron River. After outfitting Fitzpatrick in Santa Fe, Sublette and Jackson dissolved their partnership because of the loss of their friend Smith.
Realizing that many men depended on the supplies getting through, Fitzpatrick headed north for the rendezvous site with his supply train posthaste. When he met Henry Fraeb just east of South Pass in the current state of Wyoming, Fitzpatrick transferred his supplies to Fraeb. Then he turned around and headed back to St. Louis to make sure the next year’s supplies arrived on time. Fraeb, with the supplies, headed for the rendezvous site. But because of the delays, the general summer rendezvous of 1831 was not held. Only a shortened, later version took place because the trappers had to get back to the hunting grounds and prepare for winter camp before the snows fell, making trapping and travel difficult at best.
* * *
Returning to camp late one evening toward the end of July, Harlan dismounted and, without a word, began to care for his horse. It was obvious from the state of the horse and the tiredness of the man that he had ridden long and hard in his attempts to locate the rendezvous traders.
After caring for his horse and still without a word, Harlan strode toward the campfire. Grabbing his plate, he shoveled a mound of meat and beans onto it and began eating with gusto. It was clear that the jerky he had carried had not kept his big guts from eating the little guts. The boys, because of their Indian heritage and because they knew their dad, remained quiet and didn’t ask questions.
Once Harlan had finished his second heaping plate of meat and beans, he took his tin cup of boiling coffee into both hands and stared long and hard into the fire, just as he had on the earlier evening when there had been no news.
Then, as if relishing the moment, he said, “I saw the pack strings and wagons gathered about five miles south and west of here. There must be eighty complaining mules loaded from stem to stern with ever’thing under the sun. They also brought five wagons, heavily loaded by the looks of their wheels sinking into the dirt. Henry Fraeb is leading the pack and advised that he will be ready tomorrow to trade, so be sure to bring your plews and an empty gut because he plans to butcher an ox and load up our drinking cups!”
Harlan gushed out the words with a rush and a twinkle of anticipation in his eyes. Both boys exploded in glee over the long-awaited news, then quieted down as if embarrassed by their un-Indian-like outburst.
The trappers spent the rest of the evening making ready their year’s trapping efforts and the clothes they would wear grandly when they rode into the rendezvous.
***
Daylight found
***
Soon the sight of heavily laden trapper pack strings and great swarms of gaily dressed Indians moving into the valley became an everyday occurrence. People were streaming into Willow Valley by the score in anticipation of the rendezvous and festivities such as drinking, foot races, shooting matches, whoring around, squaw trading, and horse trading. They were also eager for the latest news about who had made it through the winter and who had perished by accident, been eaten by a bear, or lost his hair to hostile Indians.
Soon tepees and lean-tos dotted the valley floor along the many creeks and cottonwood groves in anticipation of being supplied for the coming season. Come the first of July, however, no supply trains graced the valley.
As it turned out, Thomas Fitzpatrick had gone unsuccessfully to St. Louis for backing and supplies for the Cache, or Willow Valley, Rendezvous. Then Smith, Sublette, and Jackson, who were new owners of the company responsible for providing supplies to the current rendezvous, had gone clear to Santa Fe to check out the trapping and trade opportunities in that area and to procure supplies for the 1831 rendezvous.
En route, Jed Smith was killed by Comanche Indians on the Cimarron River. After outfitting Fitzpatrick in Santa Fe, Sublette and Jackson dissolved their partnership because of the loss of their friend Smith.
Realizing that many men depended on the supplies getting through, Fitzpatrick headed north for the rendezvous site with his supply train posthaste. When he met Henry Fraeb just east of South Pass in the current state of Wyoming, Fitzpatrick transferred his supplies to Fraeb. Then he turned around and headed back to St. Louis to make sure the next year’s supplies arrived on time. Fraeb, with the supplies, headed for the rendezvous site. But because of the delays, the general summer rendezvous of 1831 was not held. Only a shortened, later version took place because the trappers had to get back to the hunting grounds and prepare for winter camp before the snows fell, making trapping and travel difficult at best.
* * *
Returning to camp late one evening toward the end of July, Harlan dismounted and, without a word, began to care for his horse. It was obvious from the state of the horse and the tiredness of the man that he had ridden long and hard in his attempts to locate the rendezvous traders.
After caring for his horse and still without a word, Harlan strode toward the campfire. Grabbing his plate, he shoveled a mound of meat and beans onto it and began eating with gusto. It was clear that the jerky he had carried had not kept his big guts from eating the little guts. The boys, because of their Indian heritage and because they knew their dad, remained quiet and didn’t ask questions.
Once Harlan had finished his second heaping plate of meat and beans, he took his tin cup of boiling coffee into both hands and stared long and hard into the fire, just as he had on the earlier evening when there had been no news.
Then, as if relishing the moment, he said, “I saw the pack strings and wagons gathered about five miles south and west of here. There must be eighty complaining mules loaded from stem to stern with ever’thing under the sun. They also brought five wagons, heavily loaded by the looks of their wheels sinking into the dirt. Henry Fraeb is leading the pack and advised that he will be ready tomorrow to trade, so be sure to bring your plews and an empty gut because he plans to butcher an ox and load up our drinking cups!”
Harlan gushed out the words with a rush and a twinkle of anticipation in his eyes. Both boys exploded in glee over the long-awaited news, then quieted down as if embarrassed by their un-Indian-like outburst.
The trappers spent the rest of the evening making ready their year’s trapping efforts and the clothes they would wear grandly when they rode into the rendezvous.
***
Daylight found
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