The High Country, page 1
Look for these exciting Western series from bestselling authors
William W. Johnstone and J.A. Johnstone
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WILLIAM W. JOHNSTONE and J.A. JOHNSTONE
THE HIGH COUNTRY
kensingtonbooks.com
Table of Contents
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
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ISBN: 978-1-4967-5179-9
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Chapter 1
“Who told you the Rendezvous was gonna be at Cache Valley this year?” Luke abruptly posed the question as he and Jug sat by the fire, eating the supper Willow had prepared.
At first frightened by the almost constant noisy clatter that hung over the Rendezvous, Willow was finally able to ignore it to a certain extent. The young Crow woman would still flinch when the sound of gunfire would suddenly pop close by and would almost always look to make sure Luke was all right. She didn’t like so many people gathered in one place. There were trappers, traders, and businessmen of all descriptions, as well as Indians from several tribes, many of them from her own tribe.
“Ike Hopper,” Jug said, answering Luke’s question. “He said Axel Thompson told him they were expectin’ to get there early. I shoulda known Ike ain’t got no sense. It’s a good thing we decided to drive all those horses all the way down to Horse Creek before we turned ’em west toward Cache Valley.” They had discovered the Rendezvous strung out all along Green River.
It had been almost two weeks since they had returned to this year’s Rendezvous, each one of them leading a packhorse carrying two full packs of sixty plews. They were able to sell the beaver plews to Axel Thompson at American Fur Company at his top price due to the prime condition of the skins, which were heavy with winter fur. In addition, they found a buyer for the small herd of horses they had managed to bring with them. The sale price for each horse was not much, but it was a welcome addition when added to the Northwest trade guns they had collected as well.
The only thing Luke was left wanting was a preacher. He was determined to find one to marry Willow and him, for he thought enough of her to make her his legal wife and not just a trapper’s squaw. As far as Willow was concerned, she was his wife, and she had a silver ring to prove it. In addition to that, she had his promise to always love her, and that was enough for her. Luke, however, was determined to make Willow an honest woman, so much so that Jug was beginning to worry about it. They had been there at the Rendezvous for over a week and a half. He had satisfied his craving for firewater, and they had eaten supper at The Chinaman’s four times. They had bought all their supplies for the start of a new year of trapping, and it was time to head out for their summer camp. So it was with great relief that he heard the Mormon preacher and his wagon were sighted making camp behind Boutwell’s Trading House. “You sure of that?” he asked Zeke Singleton when he walked into Red’s Place and announced the news.
“Seen it with my own eyes,” Zeke answered.
“Behind Boutwell’s?” Jug asked, not certain he could rely on Zeke’s bloodshot eyes.
“That’s a fact,” Zeke said. “I expect he’s plannin’ on holdin’ a service this comin’ Sunday—Where are you goin’?”
Jug had popped the cork back in his jug and started for the door. “I’m goin’ to tell Mr. and Mrs. Luke Ransom that the gol-derned preacher finally showed up.” He stopped at the door to reconsider. “No, I ain’t gonna take no chance on it,” he muttered to himself and headed straight for Boutwell’s to make sure Zeke knew what he was talking about.
When he got to Boutwell’s Trading House, he rode his horse around behind the crude building, and sure enough, there was a man in the process of setting up a camp beside a wagon. He was a pretty plain-looking fellow. Jug wondered if he was really a preacher. And if he was, did he realize that Boutwell’s Trading House was just a fancy name for a saloon? Boutwell did do some trading and selling of anything he might make a profit on, whether it was a firearm or a rocking chair. I reckon if you’re out to catch the sinners, you best go where they gather, he thought and stepped down from his horse. “Are you a preacher?” Jug asked.
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “I am a man of the cloth. Reverand Cecil Freeman is my name. What can I do for you?”
“You ain’t just the Hell-and-brimstone kind of preacher that just tells us what we already know about ourselves, are you? I mean can you do other things, like marryin’ a man and a woman—even if the woman’s an Injun—and it’s a legal marriage?”
Freeman chuckled. “Yes, I can marry a man and woman. Do you have an Indian woman you want to marry?”
“Me?” Jug said. “No, hell, no. I’m talkin’ about my young partner. He’s bound and determined to do the right thing by this little Injun gal we picked up and she’s damn-sure worthy of it. How much you charge for hitchin’ two young people up?”
“I usually ask two dollars to unite a man and woman in a holy contract of marriage,” Freeman said. “When do you think they’d like to have the wedding?”
“I reckon right now would be a good time,” Jug said. “The sooner the better.”
“Right now?” Freeman asked. “I’ve just pulled in here and I haven’t even got my camp set up yet.”
“I’d be willing to pay you four dollars if you’d marry ’em right now,” Jug said. “Our camp ain’t a quarter of a mile from here. You’d be back in no time a-tall, depending on how long-winded you get with your ceremony.”
Freeman didn’t think it over long. “All right, for four dollars, I’ll do it right now. Let me put on my frockcoat and get my Bible, and tell John I’ll be gone for a little while.”
“Who’s John?” Jug asked.
“Mr. Boutwell,” Freeman said. “He’ll be concerned if I suddenly turn up missing.”
“John? Is that his name?” Jug asked himself since Freeman had hurried away to tell the saloon owner. When he returned, he asked Jug if he should put a bridle on one of his horses and ride him. “That’d be a good idea,” Jug answered. “Like I said, it ain’t a quarter of a mile, but it’s on the other side of the creek. So you might wanna keep your feet dry. You got a saddle?”
“No,” Freeman said, “I’ll just ride him bareback.” He got a bridle out of his wagon and slipped it on one of his two horses. Then he tied the other horse to the wagon to keep it from following them. “You mind holdin’ my Bible till I get on my horse?” he asked Jug. “I need both hands to jump on his back.”
“Ain’t you afraid somethin’ might rub offa me and get on your Bible?” Jug japed, as he took it.
“No, I’m hoping something might rub off the Bible and get on you,” the preacher replied in kind, then hopped up onto his horse. Jug handed him his Bible and led him back to their camp.
When they rode into the camp, they found Luke cleaning his rifle and handgun and Willow making corn cakes with the corn meal they had purchased. They both stopped what they were doing to wonder who the stranger might be. Jug stepped down from his horse, but Freeman remained astride his, waiting to be invited to step
“This here’s the Reverend Mr. Freeman,” Jug announced grandly. “He’s come to perform a weddin’ ceremony, if he can find two young folks who wanna get married.”
“Well, I’ll be . . .” Luke said, and laid his rifle aside. “Are you really a Mormon preacher?”
“A Mormon?” Freeman asked, surprised. “No, I’m not a Mormon. Your friend here didn’t say he was looking for a Mormon preacher. I’m a minister in the Presbyterian Church. Cecil Freeman’s my name. I’m sorry. If your friend had told me you were Mormons, I would have saved him the trouble of bringing me over to your camp.”
“Hold on.” Luke stopped him when he started to turn his horse around. “We ain’t Mormons. We just heard it was a Morman preacher with a wagon at the Rendezvous. We just want to be officially married. Will you do that for us?”
“I’d be happy to,” Freeman said with a small laugh. He threw one leg over and slid off his horse, “What are the names? Is this the young bride?” he asked, nodding toward Willow.
“Yes, sir. My name’s Luke Ransom and hers is Willow Blowing in the Wind. How much do you charge to marry a couple?”
“That’s already been took care of,” Jug interrupted. “That’s my weddin’ present to you and Willow.”
“Why, that’s mighty decent of you, Jug. Ain’t it, honey?” he said to Willow, who was all smiles at this point. Like himself, Luke knew Jug didn’t have but a small amount of cash money. At Rendezvous, beaver pelts took the place of cash.
“You act surprised that I could do a decent thing,” Jug remarked.
“You gotta admit that it ain’t something you’re particularly noted for,” Luke joked.
“So Jug will be a witness to the union between you and Willow,” Freeman said.
“And best man,” Jug interrupted.
“Right,” the preacher said, “and what is your last name? I brought a marriage certificate that I had printed with blank spaces where I can fill in the names and dates for you to keep as proof of your marriage.”
“Jug Sartain’s my name.”
Luke couldn’t resist. With tongue in cheek, he asked, “If everything’s gonna be official, like you say, should we put our genuine birth names on that document?”
“Shut your mouth, Luke!” Jug roared. “I’m payin’ for this weddin’, so we’ll put our callin’ names on it.” The preacher was puzzled by the laughter Jug’s response generated for Luke and Willow, unaware as he was of Jug’s long-kept secret, the fact that his mother had named him Carmen at birth. It was a secret he had been successful in keeping until recently, when Luke overheard him confessing his real name to Willow, thinking Luke was asleep.
“I’ll put whatever names you tell me on the certificate, but I trust that the names of the bride and groom are their real names,” Freeman said.
“Ain’t no problem there,” Luke told him, “just as long as we wind up bein’ Mr. and Mrs. Luke Ransom.”
“Very well,” Reverend Freeman said. “Luke, if you and Willow will stand up here, we’ll do the ceremony right by the fire.” It was a short affair, but the preacher read some passages from his Bible that were fitting to the holy union of the two young people and ended up with, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”
Luke had satisfied his conscience, and Willow was overjoyed. Jug was pleased with his gift of a legitimate marriage, and Reverend Freeman was happy to pick up four dollars for something he would have done for two and had often done for no payment at all. In addition, he accepted the offer of a cup of coffee and a couple of Willow’s corn cakes. In return, he gave Luke the wedding certificate with their names and the date written on it. Luke promptly gave it to Willow to keep in case she ever needed to prove her marriage.
After the preacher left to finish making his camp behind Boutwell’s, the newlywed couple and their best man sat beside the fire and finished up the coffee and johnnycakes. “I don’t know about you, partner,” Luke remarked, “but I’m about ready to pack up and pull outta here. We need to do a little scoutin’ and huntin’ to be ready for the fall season.”
“That’s a fact,” Jug agreed. “Fall will be here before you know it. As far as I’m concerned, we can start packin’ up to move outta here tomorrow. I’d like one last supper at The Chinaman’s and then get my jug filled for the trip. We already got the horses took care of. I’ve ’bout spent all the money I’m gonna spend, so I’m ready to travel.”
“Well, that sounds like the thing we oughta do,” Luke declared. “A bride ought not have to cook supper on her weddin’ night, should she?”
“I not mind cooking supper,” Willow volunteered.
“I know you don’t, honey,” Luke said, “but I want to let the folks know that you’re Mrs. Ransom before we leave Rendezvous this year.” She didn’t reply to that, but it wasn’t necessary. Her wide smile was more than enough to show her happiness.
For most trappers, summer was a time of taking it easy and moving about the friendly territory of the Shoshone or the Crow, following the deer and the elk herds. It was a time of recovery from the cold cruel life in the winter streams, trapping beaver. For Luke and Jug, however, summer was to be all of those things plus a scouting mission to find beaver. They had originally planned to return to the Little Belt Mountains, where they had been so successful in the season just passed. However, they had decided the risk might be too great to return to the same rivers and streams that had been so bountiful in prime furs last year. It was deep in Blackfoot as well as in Hudson’s Bay country, and they had experienced many encounters with Blackfoot hunting parties. As a result, they had been forced to kill or be killed more times than the average man could expect to walk away from. In the course of their success at surviving, while taking the prime beaver plews the Blackfoot considered their property, they managed to alienate an entire Blackfoot village. In light of these facts, Jug and Luke decided it best to find a new area to trap beaver this coming season. Unfortunately, the best areas for trapping were still in Blackfoot country. So it was going to be another hide-and-seek year for the two free trappers. The goal for the summer days would be to explore other parts of the Rockies, searching for an area where, as Jug expressed it, the beaver are thick as fleas on a three-legged dog.
* * *
As they expected, Lee Wong was anxious to please them when Jug told him they had come to his establishment to celebrate the wedding supper for Mr. and Mrs. Luke Ransom. As before, Lee seated them at a small table, apart from the large community table where all his customers usually sat. The preferential treatment did not go unnoticed by the collection of free trappers sitting around the big table. “Hey, Lee Wong,” Jake Purcell called out, “how come them two get all that special treatment? Their money any better than ours?”
Lee Wong rushed over to the big table. “They eat the same thing you eat,” he told Purcell. “I give everybody plenty food for your money. Why you complain?”
“Are they too good to set at the table with us?” Purcell asked, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“No, no,” Lee Wong quickly answered, “they celebrate their wedding. You get married, I put you at little table, too.”
“Hell, everybody knows he took a squaw,” Purcell said, making no effort to keep his voice down. “That ain’t the same as marryin’ a white woman.”
“Just take it easy,” Jug said softly, and put his hand on Luke’s forearm when his young friend started to push his chair back. “You don’t wanna spoil this nice supper Lee Wong’s fixed for you and Willow, do ya?”
Luke paused. He knew Jug was right.
“I’ll straighten Mr. Purcell out,” Jug said. He got up then, before Luke could stop him. He walked to the other end of the long table where Purcell and his partner, Alonzo Alvarez, were seated with two of their regular drinking buddies, Big Mike Drum and Nate Cain.
“You done shot your mouth off too loud, Purcell,” Drum scoffed. “Now Mr. Ransom has sent his little half-pint partner over here to set you straight.”
