The Storm Testament I by Lee Nelson

Author:Lee Nelson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cedar Fort Publishing & Media
Published: 2007-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

It was late August when we approached the headwaters of the Missouri River. We had been following a tributary stream called the Wisdom River that divided into many smaller streams in a large valley. In front of us we could see the snowcapped peaks of the Bitter Root Mountains, the continental divide. Beyond the peaks lay the Snake River country, where I hoped to find Ike.

Beaver George and I were riding up a little valley with scattered ponder-osa pines on either side and willows, alder, and aspen in the bottom, where the small stream wound its way from beaver pond to beaver pond. It was a winding valley, and we couldn't see very far ahead. It was early afternoon; the deep blue of the Rocky Mountain sky made a sharp contrast to the scattered puffy white clouds. The sun was warm but not uncomfortable, thanks to a fresh breeze coming gently down from the mountains ahead of us.

Suddenly George pulled his horse in and, with a wave of his hand, motioned for me to do the same. He rose in his stirrups to get a better look up the trail. After about a minute, he quietly dismounted and again motioned for me to do the same.

“Buffler up ahead,” he whispered as we tied the horses to aspen trees. “Smell 'm?”

I hadn't smelled anything, and as I sniffed with renewed interest, all I could detect was a little pine, dry grass, and horse sweat. But I supposed George knew what he was talking about as we crept up the sidehill to where a heavier growth of pine trees provided good cover. We had left everything behind except our rifles.

I followed George along the hill for about half an hour. Every few steps he'd stop and scan the valley ahead. He seemed confident there were buffalo in the area, that it was just a matter of time until we discovered them. I still hadn't smelled anything.

Finally he waved me to come up beside him. As I did so, he pointed to a flat grassy area at the head of a beaver pond. It was surrounded by a thick willow brush. Suddenly a buffalo walked quietly out of the willows at the upper end of the meadow. It was followed by a calf. As the cow began to graze, five more cows and two young bulls emerged from the brush. Four of the cows had calves.

Carefully we moved behind some serviceberry bushes as the animals began to graze. The breeze was blowing down the valley, so there was no danger they would smell us.

My mouth began to water as I thought about fresh hump roast sizzling over our evening fire. We were only about a hundred yards away, so I knew there would be no trouble dropping at least one of the animals. I had already killed two buffalo and an elk with my .50 caliber Hawken rifle and was becoming very confident in my ability to acquire meat. I didn't figure there was much more George could teach me about hunting.

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