When I got up the next morning just
as daylight was starting to lighten the eastern skyline, I was anxious
to get
started on the two gypsy caravans. However, my ladies quickly let me
know that
they had other plans for me.
As
I was about to sit down to breakfast, Running
Deer said, "We will need meat for the coming winter. You need to hunt
so
we can stock up. We also need skins and
furs for
winter. You should also take Standing Bear with you, to show him how to
hunt."
“I was planning on working on the
wagons today. There’s lots to do to get
them ready to
use on the road, and I don’t want to waste any time getting it done.”
Even
to me, it sounded like I was whining… I gave
myself a mental shake and bucked up. There had to be an efficient way
to handle
both priorities. In almost the same thought, the obvious answer made me
feel
stupid.
“Still,
hunting for winter is just as important.
I think we can do both – we’ll hunt in the morning, which is the best
time
anyway. Then I can work on the wagons in the afternoon and evening
while you
ladies do your thing with the carcasses. What do you think?”
The
women folk allowed as how that might just
work when they realized it would also allow them to attend to their
other
chores and household duties without rushing them.
With a plan firmly in place, Bear
and I quickly finished breakfast then went to find Grandpa to see if he
would
like to go hunting with us. He was at the main house with the others,
just
finishing his own breakfast. I considered myself an early riser, but
these
folks were usually up and doing well ahead of me.
I
said, "Uncle Henry, the girls say we need
to stock up on meat for winter. I guess they're not used to the way
that the
white men eat yet, plus they don't seem to care much for beef; they
would
rather have
"Sure! Sounds
better than hanging around here all day.” Grandpa grinned.
"They want me to bring Standing
Bear with us, too. They say he needs to learn the ways of the forest
and how to
hunt. I thought he might be too young, but they were really insistent.
Do you
think maybe we should take the other boys with us also?"
Grandpa shrugged, then
smiled broadly. He explained his thoughts on the matter, which jived
nicely
with my own.
"Well, by our standards the
boys are a mite young, but by Indian standards, they’re well past the
age where
they would begin learning their hunting skills. All of them would
already have
been taught some of the basics by now – especially
the two
older ones. By their age, Bear and Brad would already have taken small
game,
and maybe gone with the older hunters for the bigger animals. So, with
that in
mind it won't hurt a thing to take them along.
“They
might be a bit young yet to try and shoot
large game by themselves, but they can sure watch and learn. I think
the two
older boys might be able to try a couple of shots, as long as we
supervise
them."
I
could see Grandpa’s enthusiasm grow as he
warmed to the subject. As I listened, I got into the spirit of it, too.
This
could be a fun experience, and of course, if we managed it properly,
would just
add to the bonding that Bear and I already seemed to be enjoying.
“Yeah! That
should work! I think I might have just the rifle for them to
start with.
It's not big enough to be used on large game, but it’s perfect for
rabbits and
prairie chickens. It’s the Model 39 Marlin .22 Lever, a very good gun
for
somebody to learn to shoot with. Matter of fact, I have two of them."
Grandpa raised an eyebrow when I
mentioned the name ‘Marlin’ and rattled off a bunch of questions: “Is
that a
gun by John Marlin? I heard about him. I thought he only made revolvers
and
hideout guns. If it’s one of his, then it’ll be good because John
Marlin makes
nothing but the best. I didn’t know he made .22’s. The only .22 I knew
of until
now was the Smith and Wesson .22 long. It’s only been out for a few
years.”
“Yep, it’s a John Marlin rifle, but
it’s actually based on his model 1893 from my time. Still it looks
enough like
a ’73
The
‘big store’ was Walmart,
but I wasn’t going to explain that particular up-time concept to
Grandpa.
Maybe, I mused in a pipe dream, if we twisted this timeline just right,
the
depredation of small town shopping and small business by the chain box
stores
and Sam Walton’s in particular, could be avoided. I did explain to
Grandpa that
a ‘brick’ was a box of 20 boxes of 50 rounds. He understood right away.
“Well,
that sounds like just the ticket for Standing Bear and Brad as a
starter. They
sound like fun rifles. I’m gonna have to
try one of
them varmints out myself. We can take Davy and Jake along too – they
can hold the horses. This should really make for a fun
hunt."
I
didn’t know if Grandpa’s enthusiasm stemmed
more from the idea of the hunt, the chance to try out an up-time
weapon, being
with the boys, or a combination of all. I suspected all, but heavily
weighted
on the being with the boys. After all, kids were his biggest single
joy.
Now that we had that out of the way,
and Grandpa fully on board, I began to plan the details. "So, how do
you
want to do this? Will we take the wagon or just a couple of pack
horses?"
Grandpa
replied, “I think it might be faster if we’re all mounted and just take
a
couple pack horses with us. That way we won't have to stick to any
roads like
we would have to with a wagon because some places around here the trees
are
awful thick. We might not be able to carry as much but at least we
won’t need
to worry about the wagon making it through the bush."
“You’re probably right. We can
always make travois like we did before if we get a lot of meat. We also
need to
let everyone know the general area where we're going. Bear, why don’t
you run
off and gather up the other boys so we can get started?”
I
returned my attention to Grandpa. “I’ll ask the
women to get us a lunch ready in case we’re out past lunch. While
they’re doing
that, we need to set the boys down and explain a bit of firearm safety
before
we take them into the woods. There is no way I want any of the boys to
be hurt.
A .22 might be a small round, but it can kill just as easy as a .44."
While we waited for the boys, I told
Grandpa about Miller still renting out the cabins. I could see it was
really
starting to piss him off. Grandpa’s face darkened with rage and his
voice came
out deadly cold.
“That
dirty, rotten, greedy son of a bitch! Next
time I see him, I'm going to kick his ass!”
I
was glad I had managed to get Grandpa out of
town last night before he found out. His anger today was bad enough – I
shuddered to imagine what might have happened if he’d been with me when
I
confronted Miller last night…
After I managed to get him calmed
down a bit, I told him the whole story. “After I left you with the
Judge, I
dropped the horses off at the stable, then
I went over
to open one of the cabins so we could use it for the night. When I got
there,
they were all full, and one of the men told me that Miller had rented
all of
them out – five miners per cabin, for three dollars a night each.
“I
was mad and got Miller out of bed. Just like you now, I was ready to
kick his
butt, too. He admitted that he had rented them even after you and I had
both
clearly told him not to. He also admitted that he had charged $3 per
man or $15
per cabin, and that he had rented out all three. That came to $45 a
night that
he was bringing in for the rental of the cabins.
“I
told him that since we had been gone three
days, and that he had probably rented them out each day we were gone
that he
owed us the rent. He didn’t deny that he had rented them all three
nights, so I
charged him $185 – $135 rent plus $50 fine for renting them without our
permission.”
I
laughed, “You should have heard him bitch when
I gave him the choice of either paying up or go to jail!”
The
word picture I drew of Miller fussing over
the money he lost really got Grandpa laughing. For once, that cackling
laugh of
his was directed at someone else’s misadventures and not me.
"It serves that greedy bastard
right! There ain’t no better way to fix a
greedy
bastard like that than to take his money! I still think I'll kick his
ass next
time I see him, though." Grandpa gloated.
When Bear returned with the other
boys in tow, we rounded them all up and took them to my cabin where we
sat them
down by the gun rack. These boys, including Standing Bear, had grown up
with
guns as part of their culture. Regardless, although they already knew
they
weren’t toys and you didn’t fool with them, weapon safety is a lesson
that
cannot be driven home too often.
The
boys, knowing the importance of the message,
listened attentively as I explained the proper way to handle firearms,
always
stressing safety first. I took each gun out of the rack and
demonstrated the
proper ways of handling each. Then I concentrated on the Model 39’s and
had
each boy, including young Jake, handle each and show me what they had
learned.
Jake needed help to actually hold the relatively heavy weapon (for him,
that is
— he was only four!), but like the man he was to become, he soon proved
competent, as did all the others.
As
I walked them through their lesson, I realized
I was uttering almost word for word the lessons that my Grandpa Jake
had taught
me. Then, when I watched the young Jake sit down with a huge grin after
his
turn showing what he had learned, the strangeness of what I was doing
really
hit me! Here I was, teaching the boy that became the man
that had
taught me when I was a boy! I thanked whatever Power it was
that had
brought me here for the opportunity in my original time to learn these
lessons
so I could share them with these boys in this time.
Given their background, all the boys
learned quickly and soon we were ready to leave. As Grandpa and I had
already
discussed, we took two pack horses to carry any kills. We packed the
lunch my
ladies had done up for us, and the six of us mounted up.
As
we settled into the routine of riding, I got
to thinking. I don’t know why I got onto that particular subject
really, but I
realized I had been spending money as fast as I could make it. I guess
maybe
the constant concern of making ends meet and being a good provider for
my
family was always at the back of my mind. With that in mind, I decided
to head
us over to where I knew there was a large pocket of gold.
I
thought if we had a small amount of gold, it
would supplement my income as a doctor and marshal, and we could use it
to
trade for some of supplies that we would need. However, first I needed
to make
sure that it was where I thought it was. So far in this time, I hadn’t
found
any physical differences, but I still wanted to be sure I could find
it.
There
were problems concerning any gold we might
take from the ranch. Not the least of which, I knew how Grandpa felt
about gold
miners. I thought that to him, for us to mine gold would seem like a
betrayal
of his principles. However, I knew of a possible solution that might
help him
see things from a different perspective, which would allow him to
change his
mind.
I
just needed to make him understand that the
gold actually belonged to the Indians. Any gold recovered from
land
leased from them – meaning our ranch – could and should be used for
their
benefit. The upheaval of moving their camp to the ranch meant less
gathering
and Crazy Horse’s expedition to lead the army away meant less hunting.
Therefore,
the people were going to need to
actually trade for, i.e. buy, more supplies from the white man
than they
normally would, just to help get them through the winter. The People
didn’t
have any money, and normally eschewed it, but they would need it or its
equivalent, just to survive. Enter the gold that we could mine right
here on
the ranch…
But,
the sudden appearance of quantities of gold
in the local market was a problem all by itself. We did not need or
want
another gold stampede in the Black Hills area, and especially around
our ranch.
Thus, any gold I used for trade must just be in small quantities that I
would
explain as having been taken in as fees from my doctoring of the
miners. We
certainly did NOT want people to even begin to think I might have made
a new
strike locally.
Noticing that I was lost in my
thoughts, Grandpa asked, "What are you thinking so hard about Clay?
You’re
sure not acting like it's hunting. Your mind seems to be about 5 miles
away."
I looked over to the boys to see if
they were paying much attention to us. Seeing that they weren't, I
explained,
“I was just thinking about how expensive everything was around here
because of
the gold rush. And the People probably won’t have enough supplies for
the
winter between moving and the hunters being away with Crazy Horse.
Enough
supplies to see them through the winter will cost a lot of money. They
sure
don’t have it, so it’s up to us; but that’s going to be more than what
we have
right now.
“It’s
been bothering me in the back of my mind
for awhile now, but as we’ve been riding, I really started to ponder on
it. I
was almost to the point where I thought it was hopeless when I
remembered that
pocket of gold I told you about when I first arrived.”
Grandpa
sat upright and gave me a sharp look. He
was about to say something, but I waved him off before he could get
started.
“Now,
before you start in, I do know how
you feel about gold miners. But… regardless of that, we need to do something, otherwise many of our people
will starve
well before winter is done. So, I thought if we used that pocket of
gold, we
would have enough money to buy the extra supplies we will need."
Grandpa was quick to voice his fear
of what using that gold would produce. "Yes, we could buy some
supplies,
but as soon as them idiots heard we had
gold, they
would just start another damn fool gold rush. Only this time, they
would be on our
land, making another damn mess, just like they do everywhere else they
look for
gold!"
"Not if we just spend a small
amount at a time. Then we could claim that the gold was just payment
for my
doctor services." I explained.
"That might work if we didn't
try to spend too much at once, but what happens when we have to make
large
purchases for the whole tribe? As soon as we pay with that much gold,
no one
will believe it was for simple doctoring, and the rush will be on
again!"
He spat as he found the major weakness in my argument to use the gold
for the
good of the People.
"That, I'm not sure of.” I
admitted, but even as I did, another idea occurred to me.
If
it worked, it would help solve several issues:
It would draw the gold hunters away after a red herring. It would allow
the
Indians themselves to develop and appreciate a legitimate use for the
white
eyes’ money within the ‘all-for-one’ structure of their culture. And
with that,
it would establish the Indians as people who understood the value of
money in
the greater society, thus legitimizing in the minds of their white
adversaries
their business dealings as ‘landlords’ of the Paha Sapa
– after all, money ‘talks’.
“Here’s
an idea, Uncle Henry! If it worked, it would drive the miners
nuts! Suppose we could get Red Cloud to waltz right into the assay
office with
a good sized poke of that gold… And … just also suppose he claimed that
some of
his braves found the gold some place else
other than
around here… Wouldn’t that let us have enough gold to do what we need,
and also
get the miners out of our hair by starting a gold rush someplace else –
preferably someplace that no one, white or Indian, has any other use
for? Maybe
he should claim that he found it in the Badlands?"
"Now that is an idea! Them poor dumb sons o’ bitches
could be wandering around there for months and if they ever did find
their way
back to these parts, they’d like as not be halfway starved to death.
All the
ones who haven’t found anything here and that’s most of ‘em,
would go running off there if they heard gold had been found in the
Badlands." Grandpa’s cackling laugh as he contemplated it was purely
evil.
"Well, whatever might happen,
at least they’d be out of our hair for a while and not causing any
trouble
around here. I don’t normally wish ill upon anybody, but if they were
to fall
upon some very hard times out there, it might serve some of those
idiots right.
And… who knows? Maybe there really is gold out there, and some lucky
S.O.B.
will find it.
“If
THAT happens, then I can almost guarantee the
only miners left here will be the ones with working mines now. There
never were that many. The only mine that
survived into my time
that I know of was the Homestake, over at
Lead. We’re
just looking to hurry that along!" I laughed as I contemplated the
sweet
irony of the Indians deliberately starting a gold rush as the ultimate
weapon
in their war against white expansionism and greed.
Grandpa’s grin threatened to wrap
right around his head as he declared. “I love it! Let’s do it! Show me
where
that pocket is Two Lives!”
Grandpa’s use of my Sioux name was
not lost on me. My plan to help the people and tame the local gold rush
put me
firmly in the Indian camp, and for the first time I could remember, I
was truly
proud of my Indian heritage and could put aside the memories of the
teasing and
bigotry I had experienced growing up.
“Yessir!
Follow me!” I picked the pace up to a canter
and led my party toward the pocket of gold. It wasn’t really very far.
In my
time there were indications that it had been worked a bit, but never
seriously.
The physical evidence also suggested it had been long after the gold
rush of
this period.
When we got to the general area
where I remembered the pocket of gold being, we had to look around for
it
because everything was different from when I found it. Like I had
suspected
when I first found it, there was no sign that it had been found and
worked. At
this time, it was just a pocket of gold waiting to be discovered.
I
remembered it being in a dry wash. In my time,
a flood had washed away a tree, exposing the pocket. Someone had found
it and
worked it a little, then abandoned it. I figured at this time, that
tree was still
standing and if I could remember accurately where it was, we would find
the
gold.
I
explained what I was looking for, and then we
all looked around at the trees that were close to the edge of the dry
wash.
Finally after about 15 minutes of searching, we found a tree that
looked
familiar to me. It was already leaning, and would succumb to the next
flood.
The trees on either side were smaller than I remembered, but I was sure
I
recognized their general shapes.
We
confirmed we had found the pocket when we
scratched at the dirt below the base of the tree and found some shiny
nuggets
embedded in the side of the wash. We had started out on a hunting trip,
so we
didn’t have any shovels with us, but we soon found a couple strong
branches
that served as crude mattocks. It was hard digging, but after about an
hour we
had found enough high grade nuggets to fill our saddlebags.
"Damn that was a lot of work!
However, it looks like we got enough to get everybody through the
winter with
extra for spare." Grandpa declared in satisfaction.
“Yep!
There’s enough there to back up Red Cloud’s claim that they found it in
the Bad
Lands. And, we can always come back if we need more. I hope he goes
along with
it.”
Grandpa cackled again, “Oh, I can
almost guarantee he will! Like me, he’ll think it is just the perfect
joke to
play on the White Eyes! He might not claim he found it in the Bad
Lands, but
you can be damn sure he’ll say they found it in some place that he
considers
totally useless and at the same time make the miners work their butts
off
getting there. Hee! Hee!
I
love it! I pure-dee love it!”
I could see that the boys were
pretty excited over finding all that gold. I mentioned it to Grandpa,
and we
acted quickly to prevent the boys from telling about the gold in their
enthusiasm.
“Listen
up, boys. You all can’t tell anybody
about this, understand? If the news gets out that we found gold on our
land, it
will soon be overrun with miners, cutthroats, and thieves. They would
take over
our ranch no matter how much we tried to stop them. You don’t want the
bad men
like we saw in town out here trying to hurt your mothers, do you? We
must keep
the gold a secret so the bad guys don’t come here and hurt us or the
ones we
love. We will only use it to buy supplies for our Indian family and
friends.”
Four
frightened lads looked at us with big eyes
when we described what would happen if they told. They all shook their
heads no
when I asked them if they wanted the bad men to hurt their mothers.
They all
remembered what happened in town just a few days ago. They all, even
four-year-old Jake, seemed to understand the importance of secrecy and
what
would happen if word got out. They gave their word of honor that it
would
remain a secret, even from the rest of the family.
Standing
Bear spoke for all of them, and my heart
fairly burst with pride at his words. “The sons of Hawk and Two Lives
and our
cousins give our word as warriors we will never tell of this thing.”
I
swallowed the lump in my throat and closed the
subject. I diverted talk to our original purpose.
“Good!
That’s settled! Now! We need to do a
little hunting. That’s what we came out here for in the first place!
Uncle
Henry, what do you suggest we go for?”
"Well, around here there’s
quite a selection. There's quite a few white tail deer. I've also run
across a
few elk. And occasionally there’s a bear or two. However, since we have
the
boys with us, I don't think we should go for bear. It’s too hard to
hunt them
without bait or hounds and someone may get hurt.”
Grandpa winked at me to indicate he
was never serious about hunting bears today. I had already figured he
had been
shining the boys on to give them something to talk about their first
day out.
He
finished his spiel with, “I'd say let’s see if
we can bag a couple deer or maybe an elk. It shouldn't take us too
long. On the
other side of that hill yonder is a pasture that the last time I was
here was
just full of rabbits. We can let the boys have a little fun while they
get some
practice with the rifles."
“That sounds good to me, Uncle Hank.
Let's leave the boys here with the horses while we check just over that
rise to
see if we can spot a deer or two. When I was a young lad just starting
to hunt,
that was always a good spot for deer."
I turned to the boys and instructed
them, “If you hear us shoot, then three shots close together, that
means that
we need you. That’s when you need to bring the horses to us."
We left the boys holding the horses
while Grandpa and I moved cautiously toward the little rise I had
indicated. We
hadn't gone 200 yards when Grandpa got my attention. He had spotted two
young
bucks with eight young does.
We
snuck up as close as we dared, then we quietly
laid down. Each of us selected one of the two larger does and took aim.
We
selected the does for harvesting because of the large local doe
population and
it was late in the season so we wouldn’t be orphaning any fawns. When
we were
both ready, Grandpa nodded his head. We fired almost simultaneously,
dropping
both deer.
We
were still close enough to the boys that we
didn’t need to fire the three shots for help. I just turned around and
yelled.
Soon the boys were there with the horses. Then it was lesson time
again. This
time it was how to dress out wild game to keep from spoiling the meat.
When that
was done, the carcasses had to be loaded on the pack horses.
We
could tell that the boys really weren’t having
a whole lot of fun. For young boys, holding the horses while the elders
did the
actual hunting, and then the grunt work of field dressing and loading
the
carcasses was more work than fun. They may be necessary skills to
learn, but
young people also need something engaging to hold their interest.
It
was the boys’ turn now. After all, the purpose
for hunting today was not only to teach them the required skills, but
to give
them an opportunity to practice those skills. We headed over the next
hill to
that pasture Grandpa had mentioned so the boys could try their luck at
shooting
a few rabbits. When we got there it was plain that Grandpa was right –
the
rabbits were just as thick as he claimed.
By
this time, the boys were getting very anxious
to try out the rifles. Grandpa and I each took one of the older boys
and
started to teach them how to shoot. We showed them how to aim, let most
of the
air out of their lungs then hold their breath to steady their aim, and
then
slowly squeeze the trigger. They both missed on their first shot, but
surprisingly Standing Bear shot one in the neck on his second shot and
Brad
killed one on his third. They were both very excited that they'd made
their
first kill.
After
we retrieved their kills, we showed them how to skin and clean
them. They were all ready to try again, but we could see that Davy and
Jake
were so anxious to try to shoot a rabbit they were practically begging.
So I
said it was their turn.
They
were both kind of small so Grandpa and I had
to help them. The rifles were a little heavy for their small bodies to
hold up
by themselves. With our help, they both hit a rabbit on their first
try. Of
course, this got them real excited. They insisted that they were big
enough to
help clean those rabbits. After all, I had said, “If you shoot it, you
clean
it.”
We stayed there for another couple
hours while the boys had a blast seeing who could kill the most
rabbits.
Grandpa and I kept a close eye on the boys, ensuring they acted safely
so they
didn't get hurt or shoot each other.
As
the boys were having their fun, I remembered
the Baby LeMat pistol still in my medical
bag hanging
from one of the pack horses. Thinking to have some fun of my own, I
fetched the
pistol and the ammo that came with it. I thought I would give it a try
to see
how it worked with all nine rounds of the cylinder plus the center
shotgun
barrel loaded.
I
aimed at a rabbit about 30 feet away and let go
with a shotgun barrel. Needless to say there wasn't much left of that
rabbit
but some bloody chunks of fur. Talk about a little overkill! I took
careful aim
at another rabbit about 40 feet away and fired one of the main rounds.
I hit it
in the head, blowing it clear off.
It
was obvious this was not meant as a hunting
weapon. Rather than destroy and waste more meat, I fired the remaining
eight
rounds into a stump from about 40 feet. I killed the inoffensive stump
quite
dead all eight times… I was pleasantly surprised at the accuracy of the
weapon.
Seeing as it was starting to get
late, we decided to head back to the ranch. Unfortunately for my plans,
the day
was pretty well shot. I might not have got started on the wagons like I
planned, but we had still accomplished a lot.
We
had mined enough gold to easily keep Red
Cloud’s camp well supplied for the winter and also divert the gold rush
from
here to some other less useful location. The boys had learned the
basics of
hunting and shooting and how to properly care for their kills. And
Grandpa and
I had spent some quality time with those boys doing that thing that was
the
butt of many pc jokes in my own time – male bonding.
It
was almost supper time by the time we got
back. We had just enough time to hang the two deer and the boys’
rabbits in one
of the sheds, and get washed up before dinner was ready. After dinner,
we sat
around and talked about our day.
Most
of the talk was Standing Bear describing to
his mother how he was becoming a hunter. He bragged to her how he
killed a
large rabbit the second time he ever shot a rifle and assured her he
was
becoming a better shot all the time. I was delighted to finally see
this shy young
boy finally talking animatedly.