Survival-instinct! (Part 7 of 8)

 The man’s other constant-companion, a muscular-cur, half-dog, half-wolf, moved ahead sniffing the air as he went; he would let his master know if anything was amiss. He had missed the Indian attacker being off chasing a rabbit. Buckskin kept a wary-eye on the dog while also remaining attentive to his surroundings. Carefully, and as quietly as possible, threading their way through the thick brush and tree trunks, they exited the willows onto a sandy shore littered with rounded-rocks from the mountains washed and polished by eons of rushing-water ice-cold from the run-off high up on the snow-packed peaks. The “beach” spanned some ten-feet before meeting the river-water. “Wolf”, the half-breed, was already chest deep in the fast-moving swirl of the cascading-river, lapping fresh snow-melt, rubbing his face in the froth, playing like an innocent-child.

Once the man had cleared the cover of the river-willows, he halted the steed, viewing the river, the far-bank, some thirty-feet across, and sniffing the air for any tell-tail scent of smoke. Satisfied that the trio was alone, nudging Billy forward; the horse stopped at the bank and drank.

Before stepping down from the saddle, Buckskin gave the area another careful look-see. Finally satisfied, the tall-man stepped down from the well-worn saddle pulling his Hawkins-rifle from the leather-scabbard; he checked the load, seeing that all was in working order for action.

Wolf had finished slaking his thirst and bounded into the river-roil like a wild “puppy”-dog, chasing Rainbow-trot absent any chance of ever catching one of the slippery fish; when Commander had slurped enough of the ice-melt, he raised his head to stand-sentinel; only then did Buckskin drink.

Between each swallow, the man swiveled his head to observe his surroundings, intently listening and watching. Once satisfied with the refreshment, the man carefully filled the canteen with crystal-liquid as keen eyes swept the perimeter of his venue and attentive ears caught every nuance of nature. Nothing seemed amiss; the dog and horse confirmed his security with their calm attitude. Complacent Rufe had slaked his thirst and merely stood and dozed.

Buckskin moved his entourage across the tiny stream to the far eastern shore. Commander didn’t particularly like the frigid water and danced a “crow-hop” cadence through the chill; Wolf relished in the cold “fun” and Rufe seemed not to even notice anything untoward.

Safely across, Buckskin rode downstream until he found a suitable campsite for the night. An indentation in the willows lining the river bank caused by some rather recent flood had dislodged about twenty of the soft wood trees and floated them away as the bank had been eaten out.

This little convenience provided good protection from view of any stranger’s possible view approaching from either up or down the river; the overhanging bank offered a “roof”, of sorts, should it rain or snow and a properly laid fire fronted with flat river rocks standing on edge to hide its flames and throwing warmth toward the rear of the earthen half-cave made for a good camp/ Buckskin had the animals hobbled and fed with bunch grass he had cut and gathered; his blackened coffee pot, dented and beaten from years of hard use, began to purr a steam-hum as the warming crystal river water began to boil. Hardtack and strong brew sufficed for supper fare.

(Part 8 of 8 Tomorrow---The conclusion))