The Cheyenne of the plains and the Shoshone Indians of the red-sandstone cliffs of the north were a quiet-people, more settled in the civility of society and culture, satisfied with their life.
These tribes sported a more
“European”-look with tall, lithe-bodies, handsome-faces with aquiline-noses,
thin-lips, and overall slender-builds. Many a white man had taken these women
as squaws; Buckskin had wintered with both the Cheyenne and Shoshone over the
years.
He had also wintered with the
Blackfeet and Crow, among others; the women of these tribes were “course” with
large-features and a “bull-in-a-china-shop” lack-of-class born of
poor-breeding, but, when the north-wind howled its chill against a lodge-wall
in the dark-of-night, they made for “warm”-comfort---and, no small
consolation…these maidens could really…Cook!
One late spring found Buck along a
mountain river dammed by numerous beaver; he set out to decimate their over-populated
society, thus earning a tidy profit for the pelts when he got to Denver. For
several weeks, he worked his traps, soon having wrangled many of the
inhabitants.
No
true-conservationist annihilates his
assets, always leaving some-seed for
next-year. Greed had no room in
civilized-society, even, and, especially for those inclined to
“live-off-the-land”.
Having stretched and cured nearly a
hundred-hides, Buckskin packed his gear, pelts and meager-belongings to mosey-down
Denver-way planning to take his time, see the country, do a bit of
antelope-hunting, catch the odd trout, or two and meet up with Rendezvous in mid-summer.
Ever-alert, Buckskin sharpened his
survival-acumen to peak-awareness; late the afternoon previous, he had spied
tracks of five un-shod ponies at a river crossing; they were a good half-a-day ahead of him; it could have
been just a hunting-party, but it paid dividends to be cautious.
(Part 7 of 8 Tomorow)
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