Chapter One
Teton Mountains, Spring 1855
The ominous
gray clouds darkened the late afternoon sky like the ashes from a long
burned-out fire. In the blink of an eye, the tallest peaks of the jagged
Teewinots were enshrouded in the dense mist, completely obstructing the orange
glow of the setting sun. Several ravens fluttered through the air, their loud
caws in apparent protest to the impending weather.
Lucas Walker
stared off into the distance. He lowered his reins, giving his horse a chance
to find its way through and around the snowdrifts. His gaze followed the
fast-moving clouds. By the looks of it, he would have to find shelter for the
night much sooner than he cared for. A late spring snowstorm a few days ago in
the high country had already made his travel more difficult than he’d
anticipated, and judging by those clouds, there was more snow on the way.
Lucas
shrugged. The weather was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. He was used
to traversing difficult passes that everyone said were impossible to get
through. He’d spent his entire life in
these mountains, and knew every crevice like the back of his hand. It would
take more than a little snow to slow him down.
His horse
stopped suddenly, and raised its head. The gelding’s neck tensed, and his ears
pitched forward, their tips nearly touching. He snorted nervously through his
nostrils, sending up swirls of grey mist.
Lucas
focused his eyes in the direction his mount’s ears pointed. His left hand
inched slowly toward the butt of his rifle, which rested in its saddle
scabbard, while his other hand tightened around the reins. The gelding was
young and skittish, not as experienced and surefooted as the mare he preferred
to ride. His brother, Joseph, had offered him the young horse to put some miles
on him, and Lucas readily accepted. While a well-trained horse was definitely
preferable in the high mountains, working with the inexperienced colt would
bring some welcome diversion to the monotonous journey that lay ahead of him.
Lucas
narrowed his eyes and, without moving his head, scanned the countryside. The
waters of a fast-flowing creek splashed over countless rocks, and the cold
breeze caused the tops of the taller evergreens that grew at this altitude to
sway, their trunks creaking in protest. He hadn’t climbed as high as the
timberline, and with the ominous weather, he would have to forego those plans
for several days. The young gelding tossed his head in the air, and pranced
nervously, his muscles bunched tightly beneath the saddle. No doubt the horse
would bolt if given the chance. In his effort to keep the animal calm, Lucas
inhaled a deep breath and relaxed his legs, even as a chill crept down his
spine. An undeniable feeling that someone was watching seeped through him.
Movement between the trees up ahead caught
Lucas’ eye, and he pulled his rifle fully from its sheath. Seconds later, his
fingers relaxed around the weapon. A figure clad in a thick buffalo robe
astride a brown and white speckled horse rode into view. A single eagle feather
fluttered in the man’s black hair, which whipped around his face.
Lucas’ lips
curved in a lazy smile, and he raised his hand in greeting. The gesture caused
his young mount to half-rear. Lucas corrected the horse with a swift kick in
the sides, sending the gelding forward. At least the action brought all four of
his hooves back to the ground. Lucas would rather be astride a runaway horse
than one who might rear over backwards.
The Indian
on the paint horse laughed loudly, the sound carrying in the wind. Lucas pulled
the gelding’s head to the side to stop his forward momentum, and gritted his
teeth. Not that he didn’t like the challenge of training this unruly colt, but
the horse’s antics might break his neck once they reached the higher mountain
passes.
“Care to do
some horse trading, Buffalo Horn?” Lucas greeted the man sitting casually atop
a calm pony, while his own horse continued to prance nervously beneath him.
“Your horse
is as impatient as you are, Walker,” the Indian said, a wide grin on his face.
“You two are well suited for each other. I see not even the winter cold will
keep you at home.”
“Speak for
yourself,” Lucas scoffed. He finally managed to bring his skittish mount to a
stop. He turned the animal in such a way so he didn’t have to twist his body to
face the Indian. “What are you doing in the mountains this time of year? Ain’t
it a bit early for your band to return? Is the hunting that bad in the
lowlands?”
Buffalo Horn
smiled. “I have been sent ahead to watch for danger from Blackfoot. We’ve
endured several of their raids this winter, and do not wish to be caught by
surprise on our travels to the valley of the Teewinots. My people are a few days’
ride to the south of here.”
Lucas
nodded. “Raven and Joseph will be glad of your return. Raven will be anxious to
visit with her grandfather. Is Two Bears well?”
The Indian
nodded. “Ever since his granddaughter has returned from the white man’s city
where the sun rises, he has become a young man again. It will be many seasons
before Two Bears joins the spirits.”
The Indian tilted his head and studied him
with a knowing glance, his eyes twinkling. Lucas grinned. Buffalo Horn was a
nephew to the old chief of the Bannock people who made the Jackson Valley their
summer home. The Indian was of similar age to Lucas’ father, and he’d known him
all his life. More than once, Buffalo Horn had caught him in the midst of some
mischievous act in his adolescent years. No doubt the Indian wondered if he was
up to no good.
“We did not
see you last summer, Walker. Your brother told us you have traveled to the
east.” Buffalo Horn leaned forward as if the action would offer him a better
assessment of how Lucas responded to the statement.
“I’ve been
buffalo hunting on the plains.” Even though tension between many of the tribes
and the army was on the rise, Lucas didn’t see a reason not to be honest with
the Indian. He’d spent the better part of the previous year at Fort Laramie to
the east, hunting buffalo and scouting for the army and a few of the wagon
trains that moved west in ever-increasing numbers. He’d returned home to the
Jackson Valley late last fall to visit with his folks. Now, barely spring, he
was heading east again. His extensive knowledge of these mountains and the
landscape was the reason for his travels this time.
Before
heading home, Captain William Raynolds had approached him with a lucrative
offer to lead an expedition of some easterners with large wallets through the
Teton Mountains this summer. All in the name of scientific exploration,
whatever the hell that meant. He was supposed to meet with the army detail that
would escort the expedition through the Wind River Range in a few months.
The pass
that led through his mountains wasn’t well known except to a few of the old fur
trappers who used to inhabit the area, and Raynolds had been looking for an
experienced guide when Lucas’ name came up. Apparently word had gotten out that
Lucas had grown up in the mountains and valleys below the mighty Tetons, and Raynolds
had sought him out eagerly.
Why anyone
would want to explore the Teton Mountains for anything more than hunting was a
mystery to Lucas. They were difficult to traverse, and thousands of miles
separated them from civilized cities. The area had been a prime habitat for
beaver a few decades ago, but the streams and ponds had long been trapped out.
His own father was one of the many mountain men who had scraped away a living
as a trapper some thirty years ago. Now, the land was once again deserted by
all but the hardiest white men, and the Indians.
Other than
spectacular scenery or a place for a man to challenge his endurance, it offered
nothing of real value. Even the land itself was too harsh for most men to
scratch out a living. The winters were too long and brutal for much of anything
to grow. His folks had remained simply because they loved the land. They worked
hard to produce enough vegetable crops and raise a small herd of cattle and a
few horses to sustain them.
Although he
had several months yet until he met his employers, Lucas had left his folks’
homestead early to do some exploring on his own before he had to meet the
group. Since his brother Joseph was married and pre-occupied at home with his
new wife, Lucas had seen no reason to remain idle any longer. He had no desire
to settle down for most of the year to till the soil or chase after cattle like
his father and brother. For years, he’d roamed the mountains for months at a
time, coming home and leaving as he pleased. His mother may not be happy about
his wandering ways, but Lucas knew that his father understood his need for
independence.
The
mountains and the vast country surrounding the Rockies called to him, ready to
be explored further. Scouting for the army gave his restless spirit a perfect
outlet.
Buffalo Horn
studied him intently while he listened to Lucas retell his experiences from the
previous year. Would the Indian react in anger? As far as he was aware, the Bannock hadn’t had any trouble
with the army or with white settlers. He raised his eyebrows at Buffalo Horn
when the Indian suddenly smiled brightly.
“I thought
that perhaps you are searching for the Ghost Woman,” he finally said. “It is
clear that you have not taken a wife yet, or you would be at home in your
lodge.”
“The what?”
He ignored the Indian’s last comment. Ever since his brother Joseph had gotten
married over a year ago, people seemed to think that he, too, needed to get
hitched.
“What is a ghost woman?” Lucas couldn’t keep
the mocking tone out of his voice.
“You have
not heard of her?” Buffalo Horn raised his brows and straightened in his
saddle. “It is said she is a woman of exceptional beauty, the one with golden
hair the color of the setting sun and eyes as green as a mountain meadow in
spring.” The crazy Injun swept his hand dramatically in front of his face.
Lucas
smirked. Golden hair? Eyes like a spring meadow? The description didn’t fit an
Indian woman.
“She sounds
like a real prize. Maybe you could introduce me to her?” He leaned toward
Buffalo Horn, feigning eager interest.
Buffalo
Horn’s mouth contorted in a disapproving grimace. Lucas couldn’t suppress the smirk
on his face, and he laughed out loud.
“You have
not changed your ways, young Walker.” Buffalo Horn grumbled. “It is not good
that you make light of the beliefs of the People. While on a hunt for mountain
sheep, my cousin’s son has seen her with his own eyes during the summer moon.”
The Indian’s face turned serious, as if he believed his ridiculous words.
“Women don’t
usually hide from me, Buffalo Horn.” Lucas maintained his grin. “I’ve been all
over these mountains my entire life, and I’ve neither seen nor heard of a ghost
woman before. If your relative has met her, then I’m a little upset that she
hasn’t shown herself to me,” he continued to tease, and sighed dramatically. “I
guess she don’t like me if she’s that elusive.”
He turned
his head from side to side, glancing into the distance. “Would be mighty nice
if she’d offer me a warm place to stay for the night. Looks like we’re gonna
get some snow.”
Lucas tried
with all his might to - as his mother often told him - wipe the grin off his
face. If Buffalo Horn believed that the spirit of a woman haunted these
mountains, Lucas could at least have some fun with the idea, especially since
his family seemed to think he needed a female in his life.
Buffalo Horn
gestured impatiently with his hands. “It is said she mourns the death of her
beloved. A great tragedy has befallen her, and she roams these mountains
because her spirit cannot be free.”
“She told
all that to your relative?” Lucas was playing with fire, but he couldn’t help
himself. His mockery might get him in trouble if Buffalo Horn was in a bad
mood.
He cleared
his throat. As much as he enjoyed the conversation, he needed to be on his way.
He glanced toward the darkening sky.
“Well, if
you find your ghost woman, Buffalo Horn, send her my regards.” Lucas gestured
with a wave of his hand. The move sent his horse to jump to the side, a
reaction Lucas had anticipated and was ready for. The colt shook his head as if
he couldn’t believe his maneuver hadn’t worked to unseat his rider. Lucas
grinned broadly.
“I’m glad our paths crossed today. I’m sure
we’ll see each other again before autumn,” he called a final greeting to the
Indian.
Buffalo Horn
glared at him, then his face softened, and an almost tolerant smile formed on
his face even as he shook his head. “May your path be safe, Walker,” he finally
said, and nudged his horse into a walk without a backwards glance.
Lucas stared
after the Indian for a moment, then reined his jumpy gelding in the opposite
direction. A strong gust of wind pelted his face. Finding shelter for the night
became his primary focus, and the thought of some female apparition drifted
quickly from his mind.
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