William Johnstone - Butchery of the Mountain Man

“Are you three out hunting?” John asked.

“Sort of,” Preacher replied.

“What are you hunting for?”

“Whatever we find,” Preacher said.

“Were you watching me?”

“Some.”

“Does this one talk?” John asked, nodding toward Smoke.

“I talk,” Smoke said. “When there’s something to talk about.”

“Smoke,” Matt said. “Look over there. Isn’t that sage?”

Smoke chuckled. “It is indeed, boy. You have good eyes.”

“Mr. Jackson, it’s your bird. Do you mind if I rub in some sage?”

“Do I mind? No, not a bit,” John replied. “Show me what it looks like. That might be something good for me to know.”

Matt led John over to the growth of sage, then he picked it and began rubbing it between his hands, breaking the leaves down so he could put it on the turkey.

The four were quiet for a long moment as the four quarters of the turkey cooked, and, as it cooked, the air was perfumed with its aroma.

“Damn, that smells good,” John said. “I have to confess, I would never have thought of piling up rocks like that to cook it.”

“How did you plan to cook it?” Smoke asked.

“I’m not sure what I planned to do. I guess I was just going to throw it in the fire.”

“It would’ve burned half of it away, maybe all of it,” Smoke said.

“Yeah, well, when it was just me, there would probably have been enough left. With four of us, I can see how this is the best way to cook it.”

Finally, Smoke went over and pulled on a wing. It came off easily.

“Turkey’s ready to eat,” he said.

“I’ll get some salt out of my pouch,” John offered.

“No need for you to waste your salt. You furnished the turkey, the least we can do is furnish the salt,” Preacher said.

“Well, that’s mighty kind of you.”

“You’re new to the mountains, aren’t you?” Preacher asked.

“Is it that obvious?”

“No, it’s just that I’ve been in these mountains for some thirty years now, and I ain’t never run across you before.”

“Well, sir, you’re right, I just got here a few days ago. I’m from Pennsylvania, and I read about the Rocky Mountains, and how there’s land here that no man has ever seen before. So I bought a book that told me everything a man might need in order to live in the mountains. It also had a list of everything I needed to buy, so I went out and bought everything it suggested.

“Now I have supplies for about six months.” He laughed. “But it has left me just about dead broke.”

“What do you figure on doin’ after your six months is up, and you don’t have any money to resupply?” Smoke asked.

Jackson chuckled. “To tell you the truth, Smoke, I don’t know as I’ve given it too much thought,” he said. “I guess I just sort of figured that something would come along. It’s my plan to trap beaver, but if that doesn’t work out, I’ve got enough to get by until I can find employment somewhere and just give up the notion.”

“Pilgrim, looks to me like you are a fella in the need of a lot of education.”

“Well, if it is education I need, I do have a degree from the University of Pennsylvania,” he said.

“It ain’t book learnin’ I’m talkin’ about,” Preacher said. “The kind of learnin’ you need out here don’t come from no college or no books. It don’t even come from them books you was talkin’ about.”

“Then where does one acquire such an education?” John asked.

“It most comes from just bein’ out here, and doin’,” Preacher said. “After you make the same mistake over a few times, why it just sort of sets in your mind not to do them same things again.

“But it also helps to have someone with you, to help learn you.”

“You mean to ‘bring me on,’ like Smoke is doing with the young man?” John asked.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that. Matt seems to be a most capable young man, despite his youthful age.” John laughed, a grunting, rather self-deprecating laugh. “I must confess that my degree in fine arts does little to prepare me for the adventure I’m about to undertake.”

“What do you think, Smoke?” Preacher asked. “Would you be willin’ to take this pilgrim under your wing for a while?”

“What about Matt?” Smoke asked.

“What about him?” Preacher asked. “You’ve got a cabin, the boy can hunt and fish, I’ve no doubt he can take of his ownself. Besides which, I’ll look in on him from time to time.”

“What do you think, Matt? You think you’re up to livin’ on your own for a while?”

“I reckon I can,” Matt said with a broad smile.

“Damn, you’re looking forward to it, aren’t you?” Smoke said.

“Why not? It’ll be good to get away from your bossin’ me around,” Matt said with a teasing laugh.

“All right, I’ll take him under my wing,” Smoke said.

“Whoa, not so fast here,” John said. “I agree that my education may be somewhat remiss, but I wouldn’t feel right about burdening someone with the task of undertaking my education.”

“Pilgrim, I come out here as a boy, no more ’n fourteen years old, I was, when I got here,” Preacher said. “I’d done freed a slave girl that was mostly white, fought river pirates on the Mississippi, took a raft down the river, and fought the Battle of New Orleans with ole Andy Jackson hisself. I thought I was ready to take care of myself, but I run into a couple of mountain men by the name of Pierre Garneau and Clyde Barnes. They took me in, and ever’thing I know I learned from them two mountain men. Then, when Smoke come along, well, I sort of took him in, like them mountain men did me, and I taught him as much as I could.

“I reckon it would only be fittin’ to give you the same kind of learnin’. And there wouldn’t be nobody any better at it than Smoke Jensen. So what do you say? Are you wantin’ to actual learn somethin’? Or do you plan on stayin’ out here makin’ a fool of yourself and maybe even windin’ up gettin’ yourself kilt?”

John looked over at Smoke, studying him for a long time before he nodded.

“All right,” he said. “I’m not too proud to admit that I need help. It’s fine by me, if it’s fine by you.”

Smoke grinned. “I think we’ll get along just fine, Mr. Jackson.”

Jackson held his hand out. “No, sir. Now we have to start this off right between us. I’m not Mr. Jackson. If we’re to be friends, you’ll call me John.”

“All right, John it will be,” Smoke said.

“Say, you ain’t no kin to Andy Jackson, are you? I mean, what with your name ’n all,” Preacher asked.

“He and my grandfather were first cousins,” Jackson said.

“Is that a fact? Well, he was a good man, General Jackson was. Seems to me like I heard he was the president of the United States once. Is that true?”

“Yes, he was the seventh president.”

“I thought so. I’ll be damn. To think that I once knowed a president of these here United States is some kind of an awesome thing.”

One of the first things Smoke did was tell John that if he was serious about trapping, they were going to have to move.

“The Colorado Rockies have been mostly trapped out,” he said. “I think we’re goin’ to have to go north.”

“How far north? All the way into Canada?”

“No, there is no need to go that far. But I reckon we’d better head on up to Wyoming, or more ’n likely, all the way up to Montana.”

“Montana,” John said. “Yes, that sounds quite interesting. I’ll bet there are more places up there that no one has ever seen, than there are down here.”

“I’m sure there are,” Smoke said. “It’s a lot bigger area, and there are a lot fewer people.”