Boone's Lick

It was not until the evening of the day of the big snow that G.T. and I discovered that we even had half brothers, nearly our own age--one was named Blue Crow and the other He Sleeps. It was Uncle Seth who explained the Sioux names to us. The two boys wanted to take us right out hunting, which Ma allowed, although I believe she was nervous about it. Of course, He Sleeps and Blue Crow had fast horses and rode them at top speed, like those Bad Faces had ridden that day when Red Cloud made his long speech.

G.T. and I only had our mules for mounts--we couldn't really keep up, but the hunt turned out to be lucky anyway, and the wildest fun. He Sleeps spotted a big elk calf that had floundered into a deep snowdrift and worn itself out trying to escape. The calf was soon dispatched with hatchets, a bloody sight. Although G.T. and I hadn't really killed the big calf we were allowed to take a share back to Ma.

The fact that we all liked Pa's Indian family didn't make it any less a sore spot with Ma that Uncle Seth had never told her about it, even though He Sleeps was as old as me and Uncle Seth had known about Stones-in-the-Water all along.

"I'm a rattler but not a tattler," Uncle Seth said, in his own defense.

"It is not my place to go blabbing about something that's none of my business."

"I guess that means you think it's right for a man to have two wives--is that so, Seth?" Ma asked.

"Well, it's the custom out here in the baldies," Uncle Seth said.

"Oh, I see," Ma said--I was listening from the loft. "The custom--like handing out tobacco and coffee when some Indians come for a visit. I suppose you think handing out a woman is no different from handing out coffee."

"In patriarch times a man was allowed several wives, I believe," Uncle Seth said calmly. "It's in the Bible."

"What if I don't want to go by the Bible?" Ma asked.

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This shook G.T., who was proud of the fact that he had been baptized in the Missouri River.

"Everybody's supposed to go by the Bible," he yelled down. He was in the loft too. Neva was down by the fire, sitting with her new sister Lark Sings. They were playing with the porcupine quills.

"I don't need your opinion, G.T.," Ma said. "Who told you to preach to your mother?"

"You'll go to hell for sure, if you don't go by the Bible," G.T. yelled.

He had once heard a fiery preacher and had been worried about hellfire ever since.

"What I want to know is, is this the limit of it, or has he got another family up there where he's hauling wood?" Ma asked.

"I've never been to Fort Phil Kearny, it was just built," Uncle Seth said. "How would I know?"

"You said the same thing in Omaha--but you did know!" Ma reminded him.

"I don't think Dick's partial to sleeping alone in chilly weather," Uncle Seth said, cautiously. He was nursing a bottle of whiskey that he had procured somewhere. While I was watching, Ma reached over and took his bottle--it surprised him. She took a big swig and spat it into the fireplace, which caused the flames to leap up. Then she took another long swig, and this one she didn't spit out. "Do you love me, Seth?" Ma asked.

"That's my final question."

The question gave us all a start--Uncle Seth most of all.

"Mary, all these young ones are listening," he said.

"Let 'em! My children are old enough to know the facts of life," Ma said.

"All except Marcy, and she's asleep. Are you going to answer?"

"Yes," he said.

"Yes, you're going to answer--or yes, you love me?" Ma asked.

"Both," Uncle Seth replied.

"All right--it's not bold but I guess it's an answer," Ma said.

"Mary Margaret, I'm too nervous to speak of such things in front of the children," Uncle Seth said.

It was easy to see that he was in a strain.

Ma took another long swallow and handed him back the bottle.

"We all have to live for ourselves--I want my children to hear that," Ma said. "As for you, have another drink. If you get a little drunker, maybe you'll feel a little bolder."

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"Well, Dick is my brother," Uncle Seth said. "I don't care what he is,"

Ma said. "We've lived this lie too long. I want it to end and I want it to end now!"

Whether it ended or not I don't know--I'm not even sure what the lie was.

All I know is that the next morning Uncle Seth was out early, trying to get that independent Yankee blacksmith to hurry up with our wagon, so we could leave for the north.

2 THE big soft snow had nearly melted by the time we got our wagon back and got it loaded. Nearly every officer in the fort, including General Slade, came by to tiy and talk Ma out of traveling north--they made the journey seem like sure death for all of us--but they might as well have been talking to a stump.

"Madam, there's no call for this intrepidity," General Slade said. "You might at least wait for Colonel Fetterman--he's going that way soon to reinforce Colonel Carrington. He'll be happy to escort you safely in."

"No, he wouldn't be happy to escort me anywhere," Ma said. "He'd be happier if he could just knock me in the head."

General Slade didn't know that Ma and Colonel

Fetterman had had a sharp exchange in the blacksmith's shop the day before. Ma was harrying the blacksmith to finish up with our wagon when Colonel Fetterman rode in and demanded that his horse be shod immediately.

"Just let me finish this little bit of work on the lady's wagon," the blacksmith said. Ma had been riding him all day--he was anxious to get rid of her, even if it meant sending her off to get scalped.

"Damn the work and damn the lady," Colonel

Fetterman said. "I ca

Colonel Fetterman didn't know that Ma was there--she was behind the forge, standing in the shadow, and I was with her.

The blacksmith tried to signal the colonel but the warning came too late.

"You can damn me till you're hoarse, Colonel, but I was here first and I mean to insist on service," Ma said.

Uncle Seth was some distance away, chatting with Captain Molesworth, but I guess he knew trouble was developing because he turned and came over to the blacksmith's shop.

Colonel Fetterman's face turned dark when he saw Ma, but he didn't withdraw his remark, or apologize for it either.

"You've no business interfering with the needs of the army, and I'll have no impertinent comments," he said. "This is a military fort and if I was in command of it I'd have every last one of you damn settlers driven out of it. You belong outside the walls, with the trappers and the other riffraff."

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He turned and glared at Uncle Seth, who stopped and stood his ground, but didn't speak.

I guess the blacksmith felt like he was between a rock and a hard place because he began to hammer as hard as he could on the rim he was fitting on one of our wagon wheels. He must have decided that his welfare depended on finishing our wagon in the next minute or two--any longer delay and either Ma or Colonel Fetterman would be sure to ride him hard.

The big corporal named Ned, who had fallen down drunk the day we arrived, happened to be standing nearby, trying to comb some burrs out of his horse's tail.

"Damn you, if you won't work I'll have you jailed!" Colonel Fetterman said, to the blacksmith. "Get over here, Corporal, and take this man to jail. Then find someone competent to shoe my horse."