In the time he'd spent at Snedeker's, Joe had learned a great deal.
Snedeker was a Mountain Man, one of that rare breed who had waded every
stream in the west in their search for beaver. They fought every tribe
of Indians that showed fight, went without hesitation where they wished
to go, and spent incredibly long and dangerous months with only their
rifles and their resourcefulness as protection. Then they took their
furs to some wild fort, or some wilderness rendezvous, and in a few days
spent all the money they had earned in a whole season of perilous
living.
The heyday of the Mountain Men spanned only a brief sixteen years when
no gentleman was really dressed unless he wore a beaver hat. Silk
replaced beaver, and broke the fur market. But though their livelihood
was gone, the Mountain Men weren't. Some returned to the east. Some
guided wagon trains across country that they knew as well as the
emigrants knew their own back yards. Some simply disappeared, gone in
search of what they considered wild and free country. And some, like
Snedeker, merely transferred their way of living to other pursuits and
lived much as they always had.
At their first meeting, Snedeker had enraged Joe. Now Joe understood
him, and with understanding had come both liking and respect. Throughout
his adult life Snedeker had bowed to no will except his own, and he saw
no reason for changing his ways. But, though his outward air was that of
a grizzly bear with a sore paw, inwardly he was soft as a marshmallow. A
shrewd bargainer, he seemed to have an instinctive knowledge of how
much money emigrants carried and how much they were willing to spend.
But no penniless emigrant had ever been turned away, though Snedeker
would not outfit them clear to Oregon. Whether they were east- or
westbound, he gave them a couple of days' supplies and sent them to
Laramie where, as Snedeker knew, they became the government's
responsibility.
Joe had lost his misgivings about wintering at the post. No war party
could take Laramie, but neither could any take Snedeker's. They'd
already tried it and succeeded only in running off a few horses. Taking
their trail, Snedeker had brought back the stock he'd lost and a number
of the Indian ponies as well. Besides, according to Snedeker, there was
small danger of an Indian attack in winter. The tribes that came to
Laramie wintered on northern hunting grounds, and their ponies had to
exist as best they could. Since no western Indian would think of going
into battle without a mount, they made war in the spring after there was
sufficient grass to fatten and strengthen their horses. The three the
Towers had met must have been strays, or possibly they had to go to
Laramie for something they needed.
On a wind-swept hill about a half mile from the post, Joe sank his ax
cleanly into a pine. Expertly he measured his next strike, and when the
ax sank in, a large chip of wood broke out. Wasting not one blow of his
ax or a half ounce of strength, Joe felled the tree cleanly and rested a
moment. He glanced over to where Ellis Garner had another pine
two-thirds felled. Joe nodded approvingly. There were tricks to handling
an ax. When he and Ellis had started felling trees, which Snedeker
needed to enlarge his post, Ellis had had a lot to learn. But under
Joe's expert guidance he was learning fast, and, given a year or two of
experience, he would be a good ax man himself.
Ellis stopped chopping and grinned across the space that separated them.
"You must pick the softest trees."
"That's an ax you have in your hand," Joe gibed. "Not a feather. Don't
use it like one."
"Yes, teacher."
Joe grinned and went back to work. He had grown to like this slim and
soft-spoken youngster, but at the same time he worried about him. Where
Ellis came from Joe didn't know and he hadn't asked; one didn't inquire
too deeply into anyone else's past life. Probably he was from somewhere
in the east and he had been to school; that showed in his manner and his
choice of words. But there was within him an undercurrent of
irritability, and at times he was moody and fretful. Somewhere behind
him there seemed to be a memory that hurt. Increasingly, Joe compared
him to the suave and polished Percy Pearl, who never farmed, never
worked for wages, but who always had everything he needed. Not that
there was anything suave or polished about Ellis--on the contrary, he
was impulsive, often unpredictable. But he had Percy's quickness and dry
humor and, like Percy, he gave you the feeling he might go after
anything he wanted, and get it, without being too critical of ways and
means. Percy was an outlaw and Ellis might become one. But that was his
business unless Ellis's affairs should become too closely entwined with
the Tower's.
Joe frowned as he worked. Ellis had taken more than a casual interest in
Barbara, which was not unusual because Joe had yet to meet the young man
who was not attracted to his daughter. They were together much of the
time, and they took long walks. Joe thought of Hugo Gearey, who was at
Laramie because of girl trouble in New York. Snedeker had said that
Ellis had followed a girl all the way from Maryland, and what sort of
trouble was he in? Why was he here at an isolated trading post?
Joe trimmed the branches from his tree, leaving a smooth trunk. He
felled and trimmed another pine and looked toward the tethered mules.
They were still in harness, but their bridles were slipped and Joe had
tied them out of the bitterest wind. He glanced down the slanting,
ice-sheathed furrow that led to the post. The day after their arrival,
new snow had added six inches to that already on the ground and there
had been light falls since. Joe had driven the mules through it to break
a track, and had dragged one log down the broken track. Succeeding
loads had widened and packed it, so that now the mules were able to pull
as many logs as could be hitched on.
The weather had turned cold enough so that Joe's nostrils pinched when
he stood still, and a little rime of frost formed about the muzzles of
the tethered mules. That wouldn't hurt them as long as they didn't have
to stand on a short tether for any great length of time, and if they did
not stand at all when they sweated. There was little danger of that in
such weather; the team had only to walk to the place where they were
cutting pines and the logs were not hard to pull down the icy slide. Joe
sank his ax into the felled pine's stump and walked over to Ellis.
"How are you doing?"
"All right."
Joe stood, feeling the goodness he usually felt after a day of hard and
productive labor. At the same time he felt a swelling relief and a
rising little happiness. Tomorrow was a very special day.