Louis L'Amour - Lonely On the Mountain

"Soon!" Baptiste replied.

The women rode in the carts, resting on the bedrolls and sacks of gear and equipment.

Kyle Gavin, seemingly indisposed to conversation, had ridden on ahead.

Again and again, Orrin looked about, watching the terrain. He was not about to trust Cougar or his companion, and he had neglected to find out who they represented or why they had an interest in him.

Not that they showed any indication of being willing to tell him.

Suddenly, the old man yelled at him, gesturing. At the same time, he heard a long, weird moan rise from around or behind him. He had only time to reach up and pull down the mosquito netting from the brim of his hat, and then they were all about him.

He had seen mosquitoes before but nothing like this.

They settled on the horse, five and six deep. Again and again, he swept them away, crushing many at a blow, sweeping others away only to have them return in thousands. Suddenly, ahead of them and through the leaves, they saw lights and a gleam of white. It was the International! The gangway was down, but there was no one in sight.

Without hesitation, they drove aboard, and the women scrambled from the carts and rushed inside.

Kyle Gavin disappeared also, but Orrin remained behind, covering the horses with fly nets that helped only to a limited degree. Some deck hands appeared, and the gangway was hoisted inboard, andwitha great amount of puffing, threshing, and groaning the International moved from the bank and started downstream.

To eat supper was impossible. Mosquitoes drowned themselves in the coffee; buried themselves in the melting butter, crawled into the ears and the eyes.

Devnet Molrone and Mary McCann had already given up and disappeared. Orrin followed.

In his small stateroom, there were mosquitoes, too. He succeeded in driving many outside by waving a towel, then got under the netting on his bunk. Dead tired, he slept, awakening in the cool of morning to find no mosquitoes about.

Shaving was all but impossible, but he worried through it, swearing more than a little. From the porthole he could see green banks sliding past.

After a while, in a clean shirt, he emerged on deck. From the pilot he learned the International was one hundred and thirty-odd feet long but drew only two feet of water.

There were few straight stretches on the river, for it persisted in a fantastic series of S curves that seemed without end. Some of the curves could barely be negotiated, and the longer Mississippi boats would have had no chance here.

Returning to his cabin after a quick, pleasant breakfast, Orrin checked his guns once more.

Soon they would be in the little frontier post of Pembina. He must make new plans now.

Without his brothers, he must do what needed to be done alone or with what help he could secure.

Tel

and Tyrel gone! His mind refused to accept it.

William Tell Sackett, that older brother of his, the quiet, steady one, always so sure, so strong, so seemingly fearless.

Tyrel, younger than he as he was younger than Tell, but Tyrel was different, had always been different. And perhaps the best of them all with a gun.

Gone!

No, he'd not accept it, not until he found some tangible evidence of their death. Yet, at the same time, his experience told him the risk they had run, the dangers to be expected, the attraction of such a herd of cattle moving through Sioux country.

Nonetheless, he must plan as though they were gone.

He must plan to round up the cattle, scattered though they might be, and deliver them himself.

He would, of course, need help. Baptiste seemed willing to go along, but he was only a cart driver. What he would need would be cowboys or some of the m`etis, who were handy men at anything.

They, however, would be busy with Riel and the pending rebellion.

Pembina--he must see what could be done there.

And there were a couple of men aboard the International who might be interested.

Devnet Molrone did not appear on deck, and Kyle Gavin seemed preoccupied.

Orrin walked along the upper deck, watching the shoreline and the river ahead, although rarely could they see the river for more than a few hundred yards, if that far.

Twice he saw deer, once a small herd of buffalo. He saw no Indians.

There were few passengers aboard. Three men and a woman bound for Pembina and a tall, lean young man for Fort Garry. There was also a portly, middle-aged man in a tweed suit.

"This Riel," the latter said distastefully, "who does he think he is? How dare he?

He's nothing but a bloody savage!" "I understood he'd studied for the priesthood," the young man protested, "and worked for some paper in Montreal or somewhere." "Balderdash! The man's an aborigine!

Why, he's part Indian! Everybody knows that!" "One-eighth," the young man said.

"No matter. Who does he think he is?" "From what I hear," Orrin suggested mildly, "he simply stepped in to provide a government where there was none." "Balderdash! The man's an egotistical fool! Well," he said finally, "no need to bother about him. The army will be here soon, and they'll hang him. Hang him, I say!" The young man looked over at Orrin and shrugged. After a bit, he walked forward with him.

"A man of definite opinions," Orrin said mildly.

"I know little enough about Riel except some poetry of his that I've read. Not bad at all, not bad. But he seems a reasonable man." "If they give him time," Orrin commented. "It would seem some at least have already made up their minds." "You're headed west, I hear?" "British Columbia, but first I've got to round up some cattle and find, if I can, the bodies of my brothers, who are said to have been killed in a stampede." "Dash it all! I am sorry! I heard something to that effect." He glanced at Orrin.

"Going to the gold fields?" "Eventually, if we get the cattle." "I would take it as a favor if you permitted me to come along." "You?" Orrin glanced at him. "I will carry no excess baggage. If you come with me, you will work and be paid for it. You will ride, round up cattle and drive them, and if necessary, fight Indians." "I'm your man. It sounds like great fun." "It won't be. It is brutally hard work, and a good chance to be killed." "I understand Miss Molrone is going with you?" So that was it? "She may change her mind. Right now she is headed for Carlton House and may go no further. If it is she whom you're interested in, I would suggest you go to Carlton House." Pembina would soon be showing up around a bend.

Once there, he could begin recruiting, but instead of the two men he had hoped to get, now he would need at least four and preferably more. This young man--what was his name? He might prove to be just the man he needed.

Kyle Gavin came forward to stand beside him, watching the blunt bow part the river waters.

Huge elms hung over the river, extending limbs out from either side until they almost met above the river. Here and there along the banks were clumps of willow, some grown into trees of some size.

"Dev----, I mean Miss Molrone tells me you've had bad news? About your brothers, I mean?" "Yes, the man called Cougar told me they were dead. That they had been killed. I'll believe that when I see it." "I am sorry! I must--well, I have to admit I heard the same story, but I just hadn't--I mean, I couldn't bring myself to tell you." Orrin glanced at Gavin, his eyes cool.

"I prefer to know such things. The sooner the better." "You're still going west?" "Why not? I still have a herd to deliver. Their death, if dead they are, changes nothing in that sense." "But your cattle are gone! Scattered to the winds, and probably many of them have been killed.

What can you do?" "That we will see, Mr. Gavin. A cousin of mine is waiting for the delivery of those cattle.

He will not be disappointed." Gavin stared at him in obvious disbelief.