The Morning River

  "Trade? I mean, Rousseau . . . Didn't any of these people ever just sit under an oak tree? Didn't any of them live off the bounty of the land? Aren't any of them innocent?"

  Travis chuckled. "Yes, wal, as innocent as any other folks ye can think of. At least as innocent as that Yankee captain what stole me off on his ship from Boston." He looked at Richard. "Which might be one of the reasons I stuck my neck out fer ye. Hell, if'n I'd a stayed in the States, I'd been hung or jailed by now."

  "You don't seem like a criminal."

  "I ain't, not much, if'n ye judges me by the rules out hyar. Back in that civilization ye harps so on, I'd be a handful. Reckon I like the rules better hyar."

  Richard glanced at the Pawnee. 44 Some rules. According to you, he'll kill us to possess this whiskey."

  "Reckon so."

  "It's irrational."

  "Tell it to him."

  "I intend to."

  "Speak Pawnee?" Travis asked, raising an eyebrow and changing the lines of scars on his face.

  "No, I guess not. You'll translate?"

  Travis chuckled. "I’d better. Maybe I can keep ye alive after Half Man decides yer an idiot. I wouldn't try and philos'phy him. Half Man ain't noted fer his elocution."

  "Oh. what's he noted for?"

  "Stabbing people in the back."

  "Travis?"

  Hartman came awake in an instant, hands tightening on his rifle. "What's up, coon?"

  "I can't stay awake any longer." Hamilton yawned as he spoke.

  "Reckon ye done fine." Travis sat up, kicked out of his blankets, and studied the dark camp. Half Man lay rolled in his blanket, no doubt hearing every word. Hell, that Pawnee son of a bitch might be as good as his word. The dicker had been five gallons of whiskey for the use of the horses. Five gallons would allow Half Man to trade for a heap of hides. Maybe the red bastard wouldn't try and raise hair after all.

  And all them book ideas the lad's been spouting have made mush outa my brain, too.

  Travis walked out from the smoldering fire, sniffing the night air, damp and green-smelling after the rains. The land had needed that. Insect sounds carried to him as he checked the horses on their pickets.

  All quiet.

  Travis opened his senses, becoming one with the night. The sounds, the smells, the feel of the breeze on his skin. Overhead, stars made patterns against the black patches of clouds. The world had come alive again.

  Travis made his careful way back to the fire, checking to see that the Pawnee was still in his blanket. The attack would come without warning. When?

  Morning, most likely.

  How?

  Knife or tomahawk. He'll try and whack me, silent like. Maybe cut my throat. Then he can deal with Dick any way he sees fit. The Pawnee would know Hamilton for a pilgrim.

  So, how do I fox Half Man?

  Don't give him a chance.

  Travis tugged at his beard, and ran his fingers over the smooth ridges of scar tissue. That was the other thing about ever going back to the United States. He couldn't stand the way they'd look at him, like a monster. Out here, among the Indians, they understood what had happened and honored him for it. In the East, they'd stare, loathing on their faces, and they'd back away from him in horror.

  Reckon I couldn 't take it. Worst of all would be the women. The look in their eyes, like they done seed a serpent.

  Better for him to stay here, where he knew the rules, was good at them, in fact. Like Baptiste, he could never go back. The planter had put the scars on Baptiste's back with a whip. The wilderness had scarred Travis's face, marking him as its own. Each of us branded by his master.

  Travis settled by the low fire, warming his hands as he watched the darkness. Satisfied, he turned his attention on Richard.

  Am I just stringing him along? Setting him up for some disaster he ain't prepared for? A wrong word, an insolent act, and some Sioux, Ree, or Crow would smack the boy's brains out. And why? Just because he'd read a book written by some damn fool who'd never been shot at—or seen what a Blackfoot did to a dying man.

  Innocent—in this country? Travis shook his head. Sorry, Dick. Reckon ye be the only innocent out hyar.

  He scratched his head. How in Tarnal Hell was he gonna give Hamilton an even break when every deck on earth was stacked against him?

  For hours Travis thought on it, and finally made his decision. Wal, she'd be Katy bar the door, but he'd do 'er. Sunup was coming. Half Man might be waiting, figuring to make his play just at dawn when reactions were the slowest.

  Still, it never hurt to make the first move in a cat-and-mouse game.

  "Dick? Level Daylight's a-coming. Half Man, come on, ye Pawnee devil. Let's get a move on."

  "In God's name, Travis," Hamilton moaned. "Let me finish the dream. Pastries, and a fine claret..."

  "Sun's nigh to breaking forth, coon. Let's get on with her. Sooner we reach the river, the sooner we're all on our way."

  Half Man hadn't moved, but Travis could see the glint of his slitted eyes. We're a pair, you and me.

  Richard was up. "Dick, rustle up them hosses. Let's get our likker tied on."

  They ate jerked meat washed down with cold coffee. By the time the sky had turned pink, Travis had the pack string moving, never allowing the Pawnee the opportunity to act.

  That's it. Keep him off balance. Don't let him have time to get the drop.

  As the sun rose and shot glowing red rays across the cloud bottoms, Travis moved up beside Richard.

  "These prickly pear, come fall they make a red fruit. A feller can eat 'em. Right sweet they are. The flowers, a feller can eat them, too. Takes a lot to fill a man's belly, but food's food, and can make the difference atwixt living and dying."

  Richard stared quizzically at the cactus.

  "Meat's meat. Ye got ter remember that. Don't make no matter what the critter. Mule or mouse. Fat cow buffler is about the best eating on the plains, but ye get into the mountains, and elk is some, it is. Better than these hyar plains elk."

  "Any meat?" Richard asked. "Who'd eat a mouse?"

  "Wal, if'n ye were starving, I reckon ye'd eat all ye could catch. Remember, lad. Meat's meat. Even lizards and buzz-worms."

  "What's a buzzworm?"

  "Rattlesnake, coon. And they's good eating. Flaky white meat Now the Shoshoni, way out west, they even eat ants. Collect 'em and grind 'em up on their slabs. Makes a kind of paste. I've heard coons tell it ain't bad eating, so long's ye don't dwell on it being ants. Grasshoppers, they's good, too."

  "Travis, you're making me sick."

  "Listen, coon. I ain't talking to hear my jaw flap." Travis pointed out at the grassy plains. "Thar's a whole big land out there. Reckon a feller that didn't know better, specially one full of book laming, wal, he might starve ter death surrounded by all the food in the world. He needs to use his noodle to think about the world a mite different."

  "But ants? Grasshoppers?"

  "Whar's an egg come from?"

  Richard stared at him thoughtfully. "A chicken. They lay them."

  "How?"

  "Uh, well, I don't—"

  "Right outa their assholes, coon. I hear they's rich folks what eat fish eggs. And didn't them Pharaohs eat birds' tongues?"

  "I think that was Roman emperors.''

  Travis waved it away. "One's as good as t'other. Thing is, when it gets down to cat scratch, yer gonna do whatever it takes ter keep yerfcelf alive. Remember that. Meat's meat. If it comes off a critter, ye can eat it. 'Course, meat ain't everything/'

  Travis pointed eastward. "Over than to Cantonment Missouri. Reckon they had three hunnert soldiers billeted through the winter about five years back. Most of 'em ketched the scurvy. Reckon they had plenty of meat. Fact is, they didn't eat the lights/'

  "Lights?" Richard frowned. "What are the lights?"

  "The guts, coon. Heart, liver, kidneys, boudins. Remember that, if n yer ever getting poor in spite of eating all the meat ye can hold. Injuns, they know. If'n the lights don't fix
ye, ye need plants. I've even seed Injuns boiling grass to make tea. Balances a man's blood, I'm told."

  "I've heard that lemons are carried on ships for scurvy. Do lemons grow out here?"

  "Don't reckon so. Plants, now, they take a little laming. Reckon it's early, and we're a bit north fer finding pommes de terre, but they's other things. Sunflowers, fer one. Prairie turnips, a feller can make a meal of them. Sego lily, Yampa root, blue-flower camas. I've et 'em all. Like a cross between potato and carrot. Wild onions is everywhere. Look, reckon that's one."

  Travis led his horse over, and used his belt knife to lever a bulb out of the ground. He handed it to Richard, resuming his pace. ' 'Smell her. Onion, ain't it? Thar now. Knock the dirt off'n it and eat it. Ye'll know onion from death camas. She's always got that smell. And did ye see how quick it was to dig that out? A feller can eat on the run."

  "We didn't get killed by the Pawnee this morning." Richard ate the onion thoughtfully. "Maybe you're worried about nothing."

  "Maybe." Travis slung his lead rope over his shoulder and lifted his rifle, checking the priming in the pan. "This morning, notice how I loaded the packs? Always kept a hoss atwixt me and the Pawnee? He didn't have a clear target."

  "You always make him walk first," Richard noted. "Is that so that you won't get shot in the back?"

  "Yer laming, coon."

  "Travis, I don't know. He's strange. But how can you be so sure he's a bad man?"

  "Maybe he ain't. But this hyar ain't a Christian land. Reckon old Half Man, he ain't heard of no Good Samaritan. Now, pay attention. If'n he makes a play, I want ye ter grab the hosses. Understand? I'll raise the Injun, you just make sure the hosses don't bolt."

  "Raise the Injun? I don't understand."

  "Kill him dead."

  "Oh. Is that a Christian reference, as in resurrect?''

  "Reckon not." Travis reached in his possibles for a twist of tobacco and cut a chew. After he had it juicing, he asked, "What's yer job if'n the Pawnee makes trouble?"

  "I grab the horses . .. but what if he gets the best of you?"

  Travis placed his twist back into his possibles. "Then, I reckon ye'd best hope he's been a-reading that philos'phy of yern."

  EIGHTEEN

  This appears to me as clear as daylight, and I cannot conceive from whence our philosophers can derive all The passions they endow to natural man. Except for the basic physical necessities, which nature herself requires, all our other needs are merely the result of habit, before which they were not needs or of our craving. Don't crave that which we are not in a Circumstance to know. Therefore it follows that as savage man yearns for nothing but what he knows, and knows nothing but what he actually possesses or can easily acquire, nothing can be so tranquil as his soul, or so resound as his understanding.

  -- Jean Jacques Rousseau, Discourse on the Origin and Foundation of Inequality Among Mankind

  After so many days of rain, the sun beat down hot and bright. Travis might have found that a welcome change, but for the muggy air that made a man's sweat just about useless. The trilling of a meadow lark, the chirping of the finches, and the colorful wildflowers helped DO make up for the humid heat.

  "Warm enough fee ye." he asked Hamilton.

  "I guess. After freezing for days, now I'd give anything for a couple of clouds."

  "Later this afternoon. Reckon the thunderheads will come rolling in."

  Travis never let his attention waver from where Half Man walked ahead of them. An Indian walked differently, planted his feet in a softer manner than a galomping, booted white man. Half Man didn't look like much, skinny, his eyes soulless. Made a coon tigger he didn't have a thought in his head. But a man didn't skip atwixt and atween the Omaha and the Pawnee—mortal enemies—without having a heap of savvy locked in his noodle.

  He's planning something. Knows we're smuggling, and ifn we don't show up, thar ain't gonna be no questions asked. At least, not by the gov'ment. Ifn I's in his moccasins, I'd be thinking to raise Dick and me, skip off to the Pawnee, and make like a king. Pile up a heap ofbuffler and beaver, and trade it while prices are high. Probably down to Fort Osage.

  "What are you thinking?" Hamilton asked.

  " 'Bout the Pawnee. I got him figgered as far as the whiskey's concerned. What I ain't got figgered is when he's a gonna strike."

  Richard made a face.

  "Still don't believe this child, do ye?"

  Richard's thin face looked pensive. 'Travis, I can understand him wanting to steal our things. But unless we give him cause, he doesn't have any reason to kill us."

  "Coup, Dick. I explained that to ye. Honor as a warrior."

  "Such concepts of honor are irrational."

  "Tell them soldiers they pin all them medals on."

  Richard frowned as he walked, eyes on the grass.

  "Best larn to watch around, Dick. Feller's got ter see everything. Front and back, up and down. Trouble can come on ye from any direction. Thar's times that seeing a danger first means ye can avoid it altogether."

  "I was just thinking." Richard wiped sweat from his forehead. The distant trees were shimmering in the light, and delicate butterflies fluttered in the hot air. The sweet smell of grass seemed to grow stronger with the heat.

  "Yep, locked in yer Doodle noodle. Last thing ye'll be wondering about is how that arrow come ter be sticking through yer guts."

  "They just shoot people. Without any warning?"

  Travis gave the young man a twinkling grin. "Reckon they's plumb rational about it."

  They walked along in silence, and to Travis's relief, Hamilton had started to look around.

  "See the deer over ter the trees? Two does, still as can be."

  "Nope."

  "Right yonder, down under the branches of that hazel. Just ahint that patch of daisy flowers."

  "No, I don't Wait. Yes! I see them—or I think I do.

  How in God's name did you see them over there?"

  "Got ter train yer eye, Dick. It's in the outlines, the way the light sits. Work at her, and ye'll larn."

  Finally Richard asked, "What happened to your face? The scars, I mean. A fight? Indians?"

  "Old Ephraim. He done it."

  "You've talked about him before. Is he an Indian?"

  "Waugh! He be the white bear, the grizzly!" Travis pointed at his face. "Time this happened, we's working our way west, outa Fort Benton. Made her clear ter the Great Falls of the Missouri. I was walking up ahead, scouting like, ye see. That's Blackfoot country, so a child's got ter be slick, see them red bastards afore they can sneak up on ye.

  "Wal, thar I be, a-sneaking through these sarvisberry bushes, and lo, Old Ephraim just rared up outa a hole and whacked my rifle away. He grabbed aholt of me, and it was Katy bar the door! Pressed down like I was in them bushes, I couldn't hardly move. He bounced on me, but the bushes gave, ye see. Didn't crush my lights out. Then he took a swipe with his paw. That's what took my cheek and nose, and made these hyar scars that run round me ear. At the smell of blood, he started ter chew my head up. That's what made these hyar scars running up through my hair. Pilgrim, I reckon ye've never lived till ye hears bear teeth a-sliding along yer skull."

  Richard blinked as if in disbelief. "How . . . how did you survive? I mean . . . Good Lord!"

  "Davey Green heard my screams and come a-running. He saw the bear, but couldn't see me. Davey, he ups his shooter and drives a galena pill inter Old Ephraim's lights. Then Davey dives in with his knife.

  "At the sound of the shot, Old Ephraim turns, and swats Davey half across the berry patch. Plumb knocked him cold, and woulda busted him up, but for the bushes breaking his fall. Then Keemle, Immel, and Jones runs up. Wal, Old Ephraim, he sees all this and roars. He's still a-standing on me, mind. Keemle up and shoots," Travis chuckled. "Funny thing. I was looking up at that bear's head. Big as the world, it was. I saw that pill hit him. Took him square in the nose. I felt that bear jerk and damn me if n it ain't true, but I knew what he's a-thinking."

/>   "You did?"

  "Yep. Don't know the why of it, but we might a been a-sharing minds. He knew he's hit plumb center. That ball had busted up his nose and cracked his skull. And way down deep in that bear's soul, I felt the rage as he charged out to take old Keemle down with him. 'Course, afore he got thar, Jones shot him through the shoulder, and busted him down. Then Immel busted his neck with another shot."

  "What about you?"

  "Ain't much ter tell after that. Reckon all the excitement was over, and the real hurting started. They put me in a pirogue and sent me back down ter the fort. Dave Green went along, took care of me. Sewed up all the loose pieces he could find. Reckon Old Ephraim woulda kilt me but for Green running up ter give him something else ter think of."

  "And Keemle, Immel, and Jones?"

  "Ah, Keemle's printing the paper down ter Saint Loowee. Immel and Jones . . . they gone under. Blackfoots caught 'em a couple of years back." Travis smiled sadly, voice dropping. "And I'da been with 'em that day. They's under a bluff on the Yellerstone. Blackfoots wiped out the whole shitaree." The old wound in his soul opened again. "Makes a coon wonder, Dick. I was the scout—the keen devil ter slip on ahead. Now, if'n I'd a been thar—instead of a-laying flat on me back in Fort Benton—would I a smelt out that Blackfoot trap? Would I a saved them coons? Or would I be a-laying up thar, topknot gone, and all turned to bones?"

  Hamilton had a funny depth to his eyes as he said, "Perhaps God saved you for a reason. If Isaac Newton is right, the universe is predetermined. Maybe God used the bear to save you for the express purpose of torturing me." A faint smile bent his boyish lips.

  Travis chuckled. "Hell, Doodle, ye ain't worth the torturing. Now, skin yer eyes and keep a watch on that sneaky Pawnee fer a while. Hyar, notice the way he walks, how his feet mashes the grass. See? From the pattern, ye can figger which direction he's a-going."