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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Action & Adventure
- Subject: Western / Wild West
- Published: 12/16/2021
“We should be nearing her place soon.”
“How soon?”
“Over that next hillock according to what the Major told me. He said it ain’t about two miles from there. It is next to a small creek. Of course, he ain’t been there in three years. She might be dead by now. Or gone on to somewhere safer. The Indians aren’t to pleased with us moving past the Mississippi.”
“Yeah. I got no desire to leave my topknot to some young buck.”
“Agreed.”
The two men road on. Saddle bags full of flour, sugar, salt, and about ten pounds of bacon and a sack of corn. And, of course, a huge sack of beans. They continued talking, but alert, as they travelled up the south side of the hillock. Being Frontier Men, no way were they going to silhouette themselves on a Ridgeline or hilltop. Those Indians have trained their eyes to catch little mistakes like that. So the men rode on an angle and then dismounted to have a look see.
They crawled up to the top and peeked down into the small valley. Sure enough there was her cabin, an outhouse, and a small truck garden. There wasn’t any paddock or corral…so she must pretty much stay put. Then they saw movement and hunkered down a bit closer to the Earth. Around the corner of the house came three Indians. The men froze.
The men watched in strange fascination. For the Woman came out on her porch and said something to the three Indians. They said something back, and one of them handed the lady a sack of herbs or something. She waved them back to whatever work they were doing. Smoke was coming from her chimney and even from here (downwind) they could smell something baking. It made both their mouths water. It had been seventeen years since the older Frontier man had eaten bread. Six for the younger fella. Meat and beans …and sometimes hard biscuits. Bacon if they were lucky and the occasional egg. Potatoes and greens were the only other foods they ate regular like.
“What the hell?”
“I know. Those Indians don’t make like they want to bother her.”
“Yeah, it ain’t just that Slim…those three Indians…”
“What about them?”
“Well, one was Crow, another Cree…and that big one that gave her the sack was a Sioux. They don’t normally hang out together.”
“Well, yeah, that don’t seem right. What should we do? We can’t camp out here…they will find us. And who knows how many more there are down there.”
“Well, the way I figure it, if she ain’t afraid of them at all…maybe she cut a deal with them. If we come down with our hands up and weapons in their scabbards…maybe they will let us alone too.”
It was a long quiet moment.
Slim finally broke the silence.
“Well, if’n I am ta die today, this close to getting a bear claw, I reckon it was a good day.”
They got their horses and road slowly over the ridge. The Indians saw them immediately. None of them moved to get on a horse or grab a weapon. They just watched stone faced as the two Frontier Men rode down the hill, hands up and empty.
The Big Indian yelled something to the woman in the house. She came out wiping her hands on her apron and leaned against the porch post. She was smiling.
When they got closer she yelled out to them:
“This here is Chief Thunder Sky (the Big Indian nodded). That there is Chief Eagle Child, and the one on the end is Chief of many travels. They are here, just like I imagine you are…for the Bear Claws. I have told them that no one uses a weapon on my land, or I won’t bake no more Bear Claws. They pay for them by bringing me herbs and medicines. And they tend to my garden too. So if’n you want to trade- you leave those weapons of yours in your saddles.”
“Yes Ma’am.”
They didn’t ride more than thirty miles to not come back with as many bear claws as the woman would make for them…so no way would they counter her word. They kept a keen eye on the Indians. They dismounted and brought in all the supplies.
“The Major said if he sent enough sugar and flour, you would make enough Bear Claws for the men.”
“How many are there?”
The two men glanced at each other - not willing to let the Indians know how many men were crossing the country. The Big Indian spoke English. You should have seen the look on the two Frontier Men’s faces. It was comical. The Woman howled on the Porch.
“There is ten more of the White Men. They are hunters not farmers. They are safe.”
“So, I got to make enough bear claws for a dozen men…hmm. How much flour and how much sugar did you bring along?”
The men untied the heavy sacks of both. The Woman’s hands flew to her mouth.
“Oh, My! You fella’s are going to be here a couple days. With that much flour and sugar, I could feed forty, maybe fifty growd men.”
“The Major was here three years ago Ma’am. He said you made the best Bear Claws West of St. Louis and better than the ones he got in San Francisco.”
“I remember him. All full of himself for having seen both oceans. I never knew if he was pulling my leg. I ain’t never seen an Ocean.”
“No Ma’am. He weren’t pulling your leg any at all. I was born in Boston right beside the ocean. And my Sister, she lives in San Francisco…and she tells me that ocean is bigger and prettier.”
“Do tell? Well I take stories in trade too. If’n they be good ones.”
“Well, the Major he sent along some bacon, beans, and salt too. He said to tell you thanks for making those buckskins for him…and is obliged that the supplies are payment for that…and not to trade them for the bear claws.”
“What you going to trade for the bear claws?”
The men smiled. They reached under the saddle bags (and the Indians did put their hands on their knives) so the two men moved a bit slower and turned and showed the woman four bolts of Material. They could see the tears form in her eyes as she came off the porch and felt the fine material. Some one color, some flowered and others with patterns. She stroked them like a Mother strokes her new born’s eyebrows and hair. With gentle flowing loving strokes.
“Oh My. That is way to much for my bear claws. Why I could make a petticoat prettier than those high falutin gals back East.”
“They are all yours Ma’am, the Major said to make sure you knew that.”
“Well then, lets get in the house with all this and you can help me start kneading the dough.
Three days later, the men road back. Each eating a bear claw as they edged up the hill. The woman waved back. Already in her newly made skirt and blouse. She looked plenty pleased with both herself and the material. The three Indians all raised their Axes. Metal Axes. A gift from Slim for the hard work they do for the woman. He patted his saddle bag, the two tomahawks that Chief Thunder Sky gifted him in return would make some great gifts for his sister out in San Francisco. One he would keep for himself.
Two days later the men gathered around a campfire, each eating one of the several bear claws she had made for them. Slim was telling them all about meeting the woman, and the three Chiefs. The Major took another delicious bite of his bear claw, swallowed and said:
“It must be Christmas that done it. Maybe the Bible is right. Maybe we can all get along.”
Slim smiled.
“Sure thing Major, all you need are some bear claws to trade with. “
They all laughed.
Around another fire, a big Chief explained what a metal ax could do, as he took another bit of his bear claw. Next Spring, they would clear her a bigger garden.
Merry Christmas.
Bear Claw Christmas.(Kevin Hughes)
“We should be nearing her place soon.”
“How soon?”
“Over that next hillock according to what the Major told me. He said it ain’t about two miles from there. It is next to a small creek. Of course, he ain’t been there in three years. She might be dead by now. Or gone on to somewhere safer. The Indians aren’t to pleased with us moving past the Mississippi.”
“Yeah. I got no desire to leave my topknot to some young buck.”
“Agreed.”
The two men road on. Saddle bags full of flour, sugar, salt, and about ten pounds of bacon and a sack of corn. And, of course, a huge sack of beans. They continued talking, but alert, as they travelled up the south side of the hillock. Being Frontier Men, no way were they going to silhouette themselves on a Ridgeline or hilltop. Those Indians have trained their eyes to catch little mistakes like that. So the men rode on an angle and then dismounted to have a look see.
They crawled up to the top and peeked down into the small valley. Sure enough there was her cabin, an outhouse, and a small truck garden. There wasn’t any paddock or corral…so she must pretty much stay put. Then they saw movement and hunkered down a bit closer to the Earth. Around the corner of the house came three Indians. The men froze.
The men watched in strange fascination. For the Woman came out on her porch and said something to the three Indians. They said something back, and one of them handed the lady a sack of herbs or something. She waved them back to whatever work they were doing. Smoke was coming from her chimney and even from here (downwind) they could smell something baking. It made both their mouths water. It had been seventeen years since the older Frontier man had eaten bread. Six for the younger fella. Meat and beans …and sometimes hard biscuits. Bacon if they were lucky and the occasional egg. Potatoes and greens were the only other foods they ate regular like.
“What the hell?”
“I know. Those Indians don’t make like they want to bother her.”
“Yeah, it ain’t just that Slim…those three Indians…”
“What about them?”
“Well, one was Crow, another Cree…and that big one that gave her the sack was a Sioux. They don’t normally hang out together.”
“Well, yeah, that don’t seem right. What should we do? We can’t camp out here…they will find us. And who knows how many more there are down there.”
“Well, the way I figure it, if she ain’t afraid of them at all…maybe she cut a deal with them. If we come down with our hands up and weapons in their scabbards…maybe they will let us alone too.”
It was a long quiet moment.
Slim finally broke the silence.
“Well, if’n I am ta die today, this close to getting a bear claw, I reckon it was a good day.”
They got their horses and road slowly over the ridge. The Indians saw them immediately. None of them moved to get on a horse or grab a weapon. They just watched stone faced as the two Frontier Men rode down the hill, hands up and empty.
The Big Indian yelled something to the woman in the house. She came out wiping her hands on her apron and leaned against the porch post. She was smiling.
When they got closer she yelled out to them:
“This here is Chief Thunder Sky (the Big Indian nodded). That there is Chief Eagle Child, and the one on the end is Chief of many travels. They are here, just like I imagine you are…for the Bear Claws. I have told them that no one uses a weapon on my land, or I won’t bake no more Bear Claws. They pay for them by bringing me herbs and medicines. And they tend to my garden too. So if’n you want to trade- you leave those weapons of yours in your saddles.”
“Yes Ma’am.”
They didn’t ride more than thirty miles to not come back with as many bear claws as the woman would make for them…so no way would they counter her word. They kept a keen eye on the Indians. They dismounted and brought in all the supplies.
“The Major said if he sent enough sugar and flour, you would make enough Bear Claws for the men.”
“How many are there?”
The two men glanced at each other - not willing to let the Indians know how many men were crossing the country. The Big Indian spoke English. You should have seen the look on the two Frontier Men’s faces. It was comical. The Woman howled on the Porch.
“There is ten more of the White Men. They are hunters not farmers. They are safe.”
“So, I got to make enough bear claws for a dozen men…hmm. How much flour and how much sugar did you bring along?”
The men untied the heavy sacks of both. The Woman’s hands flew to her mouth.
“Oh, My! You fella’s are going to be here a couple days. With that much flour and sugar, I could feed forty, maybe fifty growd men.”
“The Major was here three years ago Ma’am. He said you made the best Bear Claws West of St. Louis and better than the ones he got in San Francisco.”
“I remember him. All full of himself for having seen both oceans. I never knew if he was pulling my leg. I ain’t never seen an Ocean.”
“No Ma’am. He weren’t pulling your leg any at all. I was born in Boston right beside the ocean. And my Sister, she lives in San Francisco…and she tells me that ocean is bigger and prettier.”
“Do tell? Well I take stories in trade too. If’n they be good ones.”
“Well, the Major he sent along some bacon, beans, and salt too. He said to tell you thanks for making those buckskins for him…and is obliged that the supplies are payment for that…and not to trade them for the bear claws.”
“What you going to trade for the bear claws?”
The men smiled. They reached under the saddle bags (and the Indians did put their hands on their knives) so the two men moved a bit slower and turned and showed the woman four bolts of Material. They could see the tears form in her eyes as she came off the porch and felt the fine material. Some one color, some flowered and others with patterns. She stroked them like a Mother strokes her new born’s eyebrows and hair. With gentle flowing loving strokes.
“Oh My. That is way to much for my bear claws. Why I could make a petticoat prettier than those high falutin gals back East.”
“They are all yours Ma’am, the Major said to make sure you knew that.”
“Well then, lets get in the house with all this and you can help me start kneading the dough.
Three days later, the men road back. Each eating a bear claw as they edged up the hill. The woman waved back. Already in her newly made skirt and blouse. She looked plenty pleased with both herself and the material. The three Indians all raised their Axes. Metal Axes. A gift from Slim for the hard work they do for the woman. He patted his saddle bag, the two tomahawks that Chief Thunder Sky gifted him in return would make some great gifts for his sister out in San Francisco. One he would keep for himself.
Two days later the men gathered around a campfire, each eating one of the several bear claws she had made for them. Slim was telling them all about meeting the woman, and the three Chiefs. The Major took another delicious bite of his bear claw, swallowed and said:
“It must be Christmas that done it. Maybe the Bible is right. Maybe we can all get along.”
Slim smiled.
“Sure thing Major, all you need are some bear claws to trade with. “
They all laughed.
Around another fire, a big Chief explained what a metal ax could do, as he took another bit of his bear claw. Next Spring, they would clear her a bigger garden.
Merry Christmas.
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Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
12/20/2021Thanks Gail,
We had the kids and grandkids over for Christmas Lunch...no Bear Claws tho. But...we did have Homemade Strawberry Ice Cream from Lewis Farms (they only open the two weekends before Christmas to sell Winter Strawberries and their famous home made ice cream) The lines were packed. I ate my portion and I don't even like strawberry ice cream. LOL
Merry Christmas, Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Lillian Kazmierczak
12/16/2021Well I hope your happy, I want a bear claw now... that was a great story. who knew , that bear claws could be so motivating! The picture sure looked good! As always yountold a great story. No blood, no gore just a great story about people.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
12/16/2021Thanks Lillian,
I knew reading all those old stories about the mountain men would come in handy someday. And I love bear claws. Lol smiles Kevin
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