The First Day of Eternity, page 3
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Cole, and I’m sorry your son didn’t make it back.”
“I wanna thank you for the safe return of my daughter,” Thomas said. “I don’t know what I can do to repay you.”
“Just take good care of her, I reckon. She’s a fine woman,” Cody replied. “And she’s had a mighty tough time trying to get back home.”
“I can promise you that,” Thomas said. “You two must be hungry. I was just goin’ to the house to fix something to eat for dinner.”
“Why don’t I do that?” Katie said. “I’ll go in and see what I can find in the kitchen to eat.” She looked at her father and grinned. “Pa’s been living like a bachelor for a while now. I might have to borrow a little more of your smoked venison, Cody. You two can find something to do with those horses.” She took the saddlebags off her horse and went to the house.
“We can put ’em in the corral,” Thomas told Cody. “Keep ’em from wanderin’ off while we eat.”
“I was wonderin’ if you might have some use for some extra horses,” Cody said. “I don’t really have a need to drive that many horses the way I travel.”
“I could always use the horses,” Thomas said, remembering Katie’s remark about the gift. “But I’m afraid I’m not in a position to pay you what those horses are worth.”
“I wasn’t thinking about sellin’ the horses,” Cody said. “I was talking about givin’ ’em to you if you could use ’em.”
Thomas tried to act surprised. “Why, that would be a mighty generous thing to do. Of course I could use ’em, and I’m mighty grateful for the gift.”
“You’re more than welcome,” Cody said. “I’ll just keep my saddle horse and my packhorses and leave you the rest of ’em. We might as well go ahead and take the saddles off ’em.” So they unsaddled all the horses, left Cody’s saddle and packsaddles on the corral rail, and took the others inside the barn. It wasn’t long after they had the horses taken care of that they heard Katie ringing the cowbell.
A long time was spent at the dinner table as Cody and Katie told her father all about the series of events they went through on their journey to bring Katie home. Katie had to tell him how her brother had been killed and how she was left alone in that wilderness until Cody came to take care of her. When dinner was over, both Katie and her father invited Cody to stay for a while, but he said it was time for him to go. And when they pressed to know why, he finally told them of his quest to find out what happened to his father and his two brothers. They understood then and wished him success in finding them.
Thomas discreetly remained at the kitchen table while Katie walked out to the corral with Cody to thank him once again for showing up when he did. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he said casually and gave her a big grin. “I would have been disappointed not to meet Katie Cole. You take care of yourself and take care of your pa.” He climbed up into the saddle.
“You take care of yourself, too,” she told him. “And if you’re ever back in this part of the country, you know how to find me.” She stepped back away from his horse to give him room to wheel it away from the corral, feeling an intense ache in her heart to see him go.
CHAPTER 3
Cody figured he must be getting close to the upper end of the valley when he began to see cabins here and there along the river. The buildings of the town appeared shortly after, and he arrived in the little settlement at about suppertime. He planned to make camp as usual, but first, he decided to confirm his whereabouts as Hellgate. The place he picked to find out was a large general store that looked to be older than the other buildings. It had a sign that proclaimed it to be Conway’s General Merchandise. Cody tied his horses out front and went inside.
“Yes, sir, can I help you?” Gilbert Conway greeted him when Cody approached the counter, and Gilbert determined that he was not an Indian but a white man dressed as one.
“Yes, sir, you sure can,” Cody replied. “I’m needin’ to buy some coffee and a sack of flour, if the price ain’t too high.”
“Roasted ground coffee, twenty-five cents a pound,” Gilbert said, “ten and twenty-pound sacks. The twenty-pound sack will save you a penny a pound.”
“I’ll take the twenty-pound sack,” Cody told him. “I ain’t ever been up this way before. I’m tryin’ to get to Hellgate?”
Gilbert shook his head. “This is Missoula,” he said. “There ain’t no Hellgate anymore. The folks up there just moved down the river a little way and now they’re all here.”
“Seein’ as how Missoula is built up, I reckon that happened quite a few years ago,” Cody remarked. “So there ain’t much use in askin’ if you remember somebody who passed through here fifteen years ago.”
“Nope,” Gilbert answered. “I couldn’t help you, but maybe somebody else can.” He walked down to the end of the counter and opened a door to the back of the store. “Hey, Pa!” he yelled, then came back to Cody.
In a short time Arthur Conway came through the door. “What is it, Gilbert?” He asked while looking Cody up and down.
“Fellow, here, was wondering if you might remember a party of folks that came through here back when we were at Hellgate. I told him I doubt it, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
“That’s been a while back,” his father said. “And I didn’t meet everybody who came through.”
“I know there ain’t much chance of you remembering,” Cody said, “because it was actually about fifteen years ago. So you’d have to have one helluva memory of everybody passin’ through this valley on their way to Washington Territory.”
“Fifteen years ago?” Conway asked. “I can tell you right off, there wasn’t many folks headin’ up that way, once they got here. That was when the Flathead Indians went on the warpath and closed that road up through the Bitterroot Mountains. That was about the time when settlers who made it this far decided to try their luck in the Bitterroot Valley. Who are you tryin’ to find?”
“I was wonderin’ if you mighta remembered meeting a man named Duncan Hunter,” Cody answered. “He had two small boys with him.”
“Duncan Hunter?” Conway repeated, somewhat in surprise. He hesitated, paused to exchange puzzled glances with Gilbert, then continued. “No, I didn’t meet Duncan Hunter when he first came through here, but I know who he is, him and his sons Morgan and Holt. Gilbert could have told you that the Hunters own the biggest cattle operation in the Bitterroot Valley.” He paused again when he read the complete shock reflected in Cody’s eyes. “I used to do a fair amount of business with the Hunters until the town of Stevensville built up and Stevensville Supply took the business. So, are you tryin’ to find the Triple-H ranch?”
“No,” Cody answered. “I’m just on my way into the Bitterroots. I knew the two Hunter boys when I was just a little fellow, so I was just curious about whatever happened to them.”
“Well, you don’t have to wonder anymore,” Conway remarked, “those two little boys turned out all right. Here’s your coffee and your flour.”
“You never said how much for the flour,” Cody said.
“A dollar, eighty,” Gilbert responded. Cody nodded and counted out the money. “’Preciate the business,” Gilbert said, then asked, “Are you gonna ride down the Bitterroot Valley to visit the Hunters?”
“I don’t think so,” Cody said. “It’s been so many years. They most likely don’t remember me. But I thank you for the information.” Actually, he was more interested than before. Maybe not to get in touch, but how could he not be interested to see for himself the success of his father and brothers? “In case I change my mind, how far down that valley is their ranch?”
“Stevensville is about thirty miles from here,” Gilbert replied. “And after you get a mile or two outta the other side of town, you’re on Hunter’s range.”
“You mean they own the whole valley on the other side of Stevensville?” Cody responded.
“No,” Gilbert chuckled. “They ain’t that big. Nobody owns the valley or the river. There’s settlers all the way down that valley. The Hunters just graze cattle all up and down the valley. From what I hear, they get along real fine with the small farmers.” He watched as Cody picked up his two sacks and started for the door. “Well, stop in to see us if you’re back this way again.”
Cody tied his two purchases onto his packhorses and rode the main street out the other end of town where he came to a road leading in a southerly direction, following what he assumed was the Bitterroot River. With the mountains on his right, he started out along the valley road with the intention of stopping to make camp for the night at the first likely spot. He came to a place that suited him when he reached a narrow creek that emptied into the river about two miles after turning onto the valley road. After he took care of Storm and the packhorses, he built his fire and prepared to eat more of his venison. The night passed peacefully enough.
* * *
He awoke to the tranquil sound of the river waking up to a new day. It was a sound he always enjoyed, so he lay in his blanket a few minutes longer until Storm began to nudge his feet with his muzzle. “All right,” Cody told him, “I’m awake.” He saddled the dun and loaded the packhorses again, starting out on the road to Stevensville at the first light of day. He planned to ride about fifteen or more miles, then stop to rest the horses and cook some breakfast. He met a couple of people on their way to Missoula, even at that early hour. He also took notice of the many cultivated fields. At one point, he was surprised to come to an apple orchard across the road from the river. At least, they looked like apples on the trees from his position on the road. Seeing no sign of human life anywhere near, he decided to confirm the sighting. So he rode off the road and pulled up beneath the branches of one of the trees. He picked an apple off and took a bite. Pleased with the taste, he picked three more apples, one for each of his horses. Then he guided Storm back to the valley road. “If I owned a piece of this valley, I’d damn-sure plant me some apple trees,” he told the dun. From what he could see so far, however, the land was already claimed by small farms with not much grazing land for cattle.
After riding a good fifteen miles, he stopped to rest his horses and gave each one of them an apple to eat. Then he built a fire and put his coffeepot on to try some of the coffee he just bought to have with his venison. After the breakfast stop, he reached the small town of Stevensville. It was not as big as Missoula, still it offered several shops and stores, as well as a hotel. He noticed the Stevensville Supply Store that Conway had referred to at the far end of the street, so he decided to ride on down there where he pulled his horses up before the hitching rail and dismounted. Just as he stepped down, a tall, fairly young-looking man walked out the door, followed by another man who wore the apron of a store clerk. Cody couldn’t help thinking the tall man might be just what Morgan or Holt would look like today. “Take your time gettin’ up that list of supplies, Hal,” the tall man said. “I’m gonna go to the Valley Tavern and get a bite to eat and maybe a drink of liquor before I go back to the ranch.”
“Yes, sir,” the clerk responded. “I’ll have it all ready for you. Enjoy your dinner.”
Cody tried to remember how his father talked. It was easy to believe he might have sounded just like the tall man. The odds were heavily against it, but he couldn’t resist the temptation to follow his hunch. He remained standing there while he watched the man walk down the street to what appeared to be a saloon. “I can afford to buy some dinner,” he muttered, “and they must have decent food or he wouldn’t be eatin’ there.” He took Storm’s reins and led his horses down to the Valley Tavern and tied them at the rail. As a matter of habit, he pulled his rifle out of the saddle sling and walked in the dimly lit room behind the tall man in time to hear the bartender’s greeting.
“Howdy, Claude,” the bartender sang out cheerfully. Then seeing Cody walking in behind him, he asked, “Is that Injun with you?”
Surprised, since he wasn’t aware of anyone with him, Claude turned to discover Cody walking silently behind him. He remembered then. “Nope, he ain’t with me. He was standing at the hitchin’ rail when I came outta the supply store. Musta followed me down here.”
“Another one of them poor-devil Injuns lookin’ for a handout,” the bartender said and he walked out from behind the bar to intercept Cody. “Set down wherever you want, Claude, and I’ll tell Minnie you want dinner,” he said to the man Cody followed in. Then he turned to confront Cody. “Hold on there, Chief, we don’t serve Injuns no alcoholic beverages, so you can just turn around and walk right back out again.”
“I don’t want any alcoholic beverages,” Cody answered him. He nodded toward Claude and said, “I heard him tell the store clerk that he was coming here to eat dinner. So I came in to see if I could buy some dinner, too.”
The bartender had to pause a moment when he realized his mistake. Standing up close to the tall man in buckskins, he could now see that Cody was not an Indian. “I swear, Mister,” the bartender blurted, “the light ain’t too good between here and that door, and you dressed in them animal hides. I couldn’t rightly tell.”
“Can I buy some dinner and a cup of coffee?” Cody interrupted, not sure if he still wanted it or not, especially since he found out the man he followed in was named Claude.
“Why, of course you can,” the bartender said, a little disappointed that Cody still wanted it. “Set down right over there and I’ll tell Minnie to fix up a plate for you, twenty-five cents for the food and a nickel for the coffee.”
Cody reached inside his pocket and pulled out some change. He gave it to the bartender, then went over and sat down at the table he had indicated. It was a little way apart from the other tables, which suited Cody as well as he suspected it did the other customers, if they all felt the same way about Indians. He propped his rifle against the wall behind his chair and waited. In a few seconds, Minnie came from the kitchen and took a plate of food and a cup of coffee to Claude. She looked around then as if trying to locate the other customer. When she spotted him sitting apart from the rest of the entire room, she walked over and said, “My stars, you almost went out the back door, didn’t you?”
“This is where he told me to sit,” Cody replied.
She shook her head and shrugged. “Well, I’ll be right back.” She was as good as her word and returned right away with his dinner and some coffee. She paused a second to watch his reaction upon sampling the combination of beans and rice on his plate. When he nodded his approval, she smiled broadly. “I ain’t seen you in here before. You gonna be around for a while or are you just passin’ through?”
“Never been here before,” Cody said. “I expect I’ll be passin’ on through, though.” He took a bite of the pork sausage on his plate. “I might decide to hang around to come back for supper, though.”
His remark pleased her. “I’ll be back to check on your coffee,” she said and returned to the kitchen. Her attention to the stranger did not go unnoticed by a couple of the saloon’s regular customers.
“This place is goin’ to hell, looks like to me,” Jim Crowder commented to his partner, Alvin Smith. “I reckon they’ll let anybody in here.” He held up his hand and yelled to the bartender. “Hey, Ed, bring me one of them big cigars you keep under the counter.”
The bartender acknowledged Crowder’s summons and reached under the counter to take one large hand-rolled cigar from a box. Ed’s boss, the owner of the Valley Tavern, kept those cigars for special customers and he gave them as a gift. Everyone else was charged fifty cents for one of the cigars. Crowder was not among those who received a complimentary cigar, and it irritated Ed when he signaled for him to leave the bar to deliver drinks and cigars to his table. But he did it without complaining. “Here you go, Crowder,” he said, “one hand-rolled fifty-cent cigar.”
“You ought not charge me anything for it,” Crowder complained as he took the cigar and rolled it back and forth in his fingers.
“Ain’t up to me,” Ed replied. “I just do what the boss says.”
“He oughta spend more time in here,” Crowder remarked as he licked the cigar, bit the end off, and spit it on the floor. “Don’t you want one, Alvin?”
“Hell, no,” Alvin replied, “not for no fifty cents, I don’t.”
“He oughta spend more time in here,” Crowder repeated as he struck a match on his belt buckle and lit his cigar. He exhaled a great cloud of smoke before commenting, “It’s got pretty damn bad when you start feedin’ Injuns in here.”
“We ain’t feedin’ no Injuns in here,” Ed insisted.
“The hell you ain’t,” Crowder said. “I’m lookin’ at one right now, and you sure as hell marched him in and sat him down right here with the rest of us civilized folks.”
“Ah, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Ed told him. “I made the same mistake you’re makin’. That’s a white fellow. He’s just wearin’ deerskin. He’s a trapper or somethin’.”
“I swear, Ed, you’re gittin’ as bad as Otis,” Crowder said, referring to the owner of the saloon, Otis James. “You need to be thinkin’ about your regular customers and how long you’re gonna keep ’em if you keep lettin’ trash come in here. Hell, he even brought his rifle with him. You know them damn Injuns go crazy after a couple of drinks of firewater. He’s liable to start shootin’ the place up.”
“He ain’t drinkin’ no whiskey, Crowder,” Ed patiently repeated. “He’s just eatin’ some dinner. And I told you, he ain’t no Injun. He ain’t botherin’ nobody, so just forget about him and he’ll most likely be on his way. You’re just gittin’ yourself all worked up over nothin’. I expect you’re thinkin’ about that drunk Flathead Injun that came in here last fall demandin’ whiskey.”
“Maybe I am,” Crowder replied, “and I reckon we knew how to handle that one,” he added, referring to the public hanging that had resulted.
“Well, this ain’t the same,” Ed repeated. “Like I said, this fellow ain’t no problem. Look around you, ain’t nobody noticed that fellow but you. Just enjoy your cigar and I’ll pour you another drink. All right?” Crowder didn’t say anything, so Ed went back to the bar, thinking to himself, Otis don’t pay me enough, unaware of the storm of resentment stirring up in Crowder’s gut.
