Read The Saga of Harlan Waugh (The Mountain Men) for Free Online Page B

who was about to shoot his brother with a pistol.
    “You are a brave one, little man,” said Meek with a smile of newfound respect. “Not only brave but deadly as well. Where did you learn to fight like that?”
    “I taught him,” said Harlan in a cold, flat tone. He also had his Hawken at the ready. At that range, someone would have died had cooler heads not quickly prevailed.
    “We didn’t come here fer no fight,” said Meek quickly with apology in his voice. “We smelled your campfire and, not sure who you were, come a-lookin’. We was headed to make meat on a small buffalo herd in the sagebrush some few miles distant when we came across your campsite. Seein’ you appeared to be friendly, we was hopin’ for some hot coffee. But seein’s you was willin’ to feed us, that were even better. Small Buffalo Running here took a look at your young ’un and figured he were a Crow. Them’s mortal enemies of the Snake.”
    “That may be in general, but these here boys are mine and being raised up in a Christian way. Their entire clan was killed some months back by the Lakota and Northern Cheyenne. I am all they have now. They have no tribal enemies unless someone tries to kill them or hurt their loved ones. If that happens, then they will defend themselves like the griz' that danced on my head some time back. Nothing more, nothing less,” Harlan stated in a tone cold enough to let Meek know he was ready to be a good neighbor but would kill in a heartbeat if pushed to his limit.
    Meek turned to the Snake leader and spoke to him in his language. It was obvious that the Snakes trusted Meek, and soon there were grins all around, especially regarding the issue of one of their own, and a grown man at that, being disarmed by a small Indian boy who was obviously quickly growing into a man. To smooth over that man’s feelings, Harlan walked over to the tomahawk still lying in the fresh snow, picked it up, and turned to Winter Hawk.
    “Winter Hawk, would you return this tomahawk to its rightful owner?” he asked, realizing that to do so would go a long way toward defusing the uneasy moment.
    For a moment Winter Hawk just stood looking at the extended tomahawk. Then, grasping it firmly, he sheathed his knife and handed it purposefully back to its owner.
    “I am sorry I acted so fast,” signed Winter Hawk.
    Without a word, the embarrassed warrior took his tomahawk and put it back in his sash. The act caused him and the rest of the Indians to nod their approval of the young man’s courage. The earlier action now forgotten, everyone gathered around the pot of steaming coffee.
    Between Harlan’s extra tin cups and those some of the Snakes carried, everyone was soon getting his fill of the scalding, bitter brew. Then the stew pot full of bear meat, rice, beans, and spices was ready, and in a very short time it too was emptied by the fast warming men and Harlan’s crew. Afterward, Meek walked over to Harlan, slapped him on the back, and shook his hand.
    “Glad to have another white man in these here parts,” he happily exclaimed. Then he asked, with a knowing grin, “By the way, what type of grub was in that pot? That weren’t no griz furnishin’ the meat, were it?”
    “That be the same one who intended me as a meal,” Harlan answered with devilment in his eyes.
    “We couldn’t have eaten better’n we tried,” Meek replied with a twinkle in his own eyes, knowing his band of Snakes and their total fear of everything grizzly. “By the way, Chief Low Dog wants to know if you and your sons would like to go with us to make meat. He has observed that you have some fine Hawken rifles, and those are better than our flintlock and fusil rifles at bringin’ down the buflfler. He says he would be very happy if you would join him in the killin’ because his tribe is low on winter grub.”
    Looking closely at the man he had met just an hour earlier, Harlan decided Meek was a man of his word and not a threat. He turned to the