Grizzly Killer: The Trading Post by Lane R Warenski

Author:Lane R Warenski [Warenski, Lane R]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781647348656
Publisher: Wolfpack Publishing
Published: 2020-01-14T22:00:00+00:00

The men were much happier tonight. It had been an easy day on the trail. They had been able to fill their bellies in the morning with freshly roasted elk and had eaten jerky throughout the day. Mutton was cooking over the fire, and the aroma was making their mouths water. The travois Gabe had made had worked great, so losing the horse had not affected them.

Even Clem was friendlier than usual—until he started to eat. His sore mouth and missing teeth once again put him in a foul mood, and he swore under his breath that the big Scotsman would pay for what he’d done.

The air was cool after the sun went down, but after spending the winter in the Rockies along the headwaters of one of the streams that make up the South Platte, this was warm and comfortable. Alex made the assignments for guard duty for the night, once again not calling Clem’s name. Willy, Billy, and Gabe all agreed with the captain’s decision. They knew none of them would get any sleep, knowing Clem was guarding with no one watching him. Clem’s so-called friends had started to resent that he got to sleep through the night while each of them stood guard, even if each shift only lasted an hour.

Although Joe didn’t say a word, he hated guard duty and resented Clem for not having to take his turn. Joe knew he’d been lucky that no one had caught him sleeping the night before, but he had gotten away with it. Even the captain and Gabe had seemed satisfied with his lie. He had even thought about threatening one of the others like Clem had to see if that got him out of guard duty as well, but he didn’t think anyone would believe him if he did.

The night had been quiet, except for the wolves howling way off in the distance. Sam McDonald came over and nudged Joe with his toe, whispering so as not to wake the others, “Come on, Joe, it’s your turn.”

After the second nudge, Joe finally sat up and yawned. He thought he’d just barely gone to sleep. He tried to shake the grogginess from his mind, then picked up his musket and walked a circle around their camp.

He went out to where the hobbled horses were peacefully grazing and wondered when or if they ever slept. It seemed to him that every time he saw them, they were eating, never sleeping. He walked back over to the tree line and leaned against an aspen, wishing he still had some tobacco for a smoke. It had been nearly two months since he’d used the last of it. None of his friends were willing to share what little any of them had left. Even with nothing to put in it, he took his hand-carved pipe from his pocket and put between his teeth.

Ten minutes later, he made another slow walk around the sleeping men and out toward the horses. His mind was

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