The High Country

Book 2: To the River's End

by William W. Johnstone, J.A. Johnstone

Genres: Historical Fiction; Westerns

Synopsis

William W. Johnstone and J.A. Johnstone celebrate the guts, glory, and often deadly exploits of the pioneering fur trappers who tracked and tamed the wild and lawless American frontier.

JOHNSTONE COUNTRY. IF YOUR HORSE DOESN’T WANT TO GO THERE, NEITHER DO YOU.

Luke Ransom and Jug Sartain, trappers for the American Fur Company, made a formidable team when they partnered up in the grueling winter wilderness of Blackfoot Country. No hostile raids by man, no brutal obstacles of nature could stop them from snaring what they came for. The nicest surprise was that Luke came home with a wife—Willow, a lovely young Crow woman.. Now, one year later, in this new trapping season of 1834, it’s Luke, Jug, and Willow who become the hunted . . .
 
They’re heading farther to the northwest in the mountain valleys of the Beaverhead and Pioneer Range. It’s a known risk. The fearsome, kill-crazy Blackfoot claim exclusive rights to the territory—even the hardcase Hudson Bay trappers think twice about crossing that line. But it’s an unknown risk that’s putting the lives of Luke, Jug, and Willow in danger. A kill-crazy, vengeance-seeking hound named Jake Purcell is following their every move. He aims to make a big killing in the High Country—and take Willow alive for his feral own needs. A cold and bloody day in hell is storming on the horizon.
 
Live Free. Read Hard.
williamjohnstone.net

Release date: March 25, 2025

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

“Who told you the Rendezvous was gonna be at Cache Valley this year?” Luke abruptly posed the question as he and Jug sat by the fire, eating the supper Willow had prepared.

At first frightened by the almost constant noisy clatter that hung over the Rendezvous, Willow was finally able to ignore it to a certain extent. The young Crow woman would still flinch when the sound of gunfire would suddenly pop close by and would almost always look to make sure Luke was all right. She didn’t like so many people gathered in one place. There were trappers, traders, and businessmen of all descriptions, as well as Indians from several tribes, many of them from her own tribe.

“Ike Hopper,” Jug said, answering Luke’s question. “He said Axel Thompson told him they were expectin’ to get there early. I shoulda known Ike ain’t got no sense. It’s a good thing we decided to drive all those horses all the way down to Horse Creek before we turned ’em west toward Cache Valley.” They had discovered the Rendezvous strung out all along Green River.

It had been almost two weeks since they had returned to this year’s Rendezvous, each one of them leading a packhorse carrying two full packs of sixty plews. They were able to sell the beaver plews to Axel Thompson at American Fur Company at his top price due to the prime condition of the skins, which were heavy with winter fur. In addition, they found a buyer for the small herd of horses they had managed to bring with them. The sale price for each horse was not much, but it was a welcome addition when added to the Northwest trade guns they had collected as well.

The only thing Luke was left wanting was a preacher. He was determined to find one to marry Willow and him, for he thought enough of her to make her his legal wife and not just a trapper’s squaw. As far as Willow was concerned, she was his wife, and she had a silver ring to prove it. In addition to that, she had his promise to always love her, and that was enough for her. Luke, however, was determined to make Willow an honest woman, so much so that Jug was beginning to worry about it. They had been there at the Rendezvous for over a week and a half. He had satisfied his craving for firewater, and they had eaten supper at The Chinaman’s four times. They had bought all their supplies for the start of a new year of trapping, and it was time to head out for their summer camp. So it was with great relief that he heard the Mormon preacher and his wagon were sighted making camp behind Boutwell’s Trading House. “You sure of that?” he asked Zeke Singleton when he walked into Red’s Place and announced the news.

“Seen it with my own eyes,” Zeke answered.

“Behind Boutwell’s?” Jug asked, not certain he could rely on Zeke’s bloodshot eyes.

“That’s a fact,” Zeke said. “I expect he’s plannin’ on holdin’ a service this comin’ Sunday—Where are you goin’?”

Jug had popped the cork back in his jug and started for the door. “I’m goin’ to tell Mr. and Mrs. Luke Ransom that the gol-derned preacher finally showed up.” He stopped at the door to reconsider. “No, I ain’t gonna take no chance on it,” he muttered to himself and headed straight for Boutwell’s to make sure Zeke knew what he was talking about.

When he got to Boutwell’s Trading House, he rode his horse around behind the crude building, and sure enough, there was a man in the process of setting up a camp beside a wagon. He was a pretty plain-looking fellow. Jug wondered if he was really a preacher. And if he was, did he realize that Boutwell’s Trading House was just a fancy name for a saloon? Boutwell did do some trading and selling of anything he might make a profit on, whether it was a firearm or a rocking chair. I reckon if you’re out to catch the sinners, you best go where they gather, he thought and stepped down from his horse. “Are you a preacher?” Jug asked.

“Yes, sir,” he replied. “I am a man of the cloth. Reverand Cecil Freeman is my name. What can I do for you?”

“You ain’t just the Hell-and-brimstone kind of preacher that just tells us what we already know about ourselves, are you? I mean can you do other things, like marryin’ a man and a woman—even if the woman’s an Injun—and it’s a legal marriage?”

Freeman chuckled. “Yes, I can marry a man and woman. Do you have an Indian woman you want to marry?”

“Me?” Jug said. “No, hell, no. I’m talkin’ about my young partner. He’s bound and determined to do the right thing by this little Injun gal we picked up and she’s damn-sure worthy of it. How much you charge for hitchin’ two young people up?”

“I usually ask two dollars to unite a man and woman in a holy contract of marriage,” Freeman said. “When do you think they’d like to have the wedding?”

“I reckon right now would be a good time,” Jug said. “The sooner the better.”

“Right now?” Freeman asked. “I’ve just pulled in here and I haven’t even got my camp set up yet.”

“I’d be willing to pay you four dollars if you’d marry ’em right now,” Jug said. “Our camp ain’t a quarter of a mile from here. You’d be back in no time a-tall, depending on how long-winded you get with your ceremony.”

Freeman didn’t think it over long. “All right, for four dollars, I’ll do it right now. Let me put on my frockcoat and get my Bible, and tell John I’ll be gone for a little while.”

“Who’s John?” Jug asked.

“Mr. Boutwell,” Freeman said. “He’ll be concerned if I suddenly turn up missing.”

“John? Is that his name?” Jug asked himself since Freeman had hurried away to tell the saloon owner. When he returned, he asked Jug if he should put a bridle on one of his horses and ride him. “That’d be a good idea,” Jug answered. “Like I said, it ain’t a quarter of a mile, but it’s on the other side of the creek. So you might wanna keep your feet dry. You got a saddle?”

“No,” Freeman said, “I’ll just ride him bareback.” He got a bridle out of his wagon and slipped it on one of his two horses. Then he tied the other horse to the wagon to keep it from following them. “You mind holdin’ my Bible till I get on my horse?” he asked Jug. “I need both hands to jump on his back.”

“Ain’t you afraid somethin’ might rub offa me and get on your Bible?” Jug japed, as he took it.

“No, I’m hoping something might rub off the Bible and get on you,” the preacher replied in kind, then hopped up onto his horse. Jug handed him his Bible and led him back to their camp.

When they rode into the camp, they found Luke cleaning his rifle and handgun and Willow making corn cakes with the corn meal they had purchased. They both stopped what they were doing to wonder who the stranger might be. Jug stepped down from his horse, but Freeman remained astride his, waiting to be invited to step down. Jug looked at him, puzzled by his attitude. “Who you got with you, Jug?” Luke finally asked, after a few more moments of the awkward silence.

“This here’s the Reverend Mr. Freeman,” Jug announced grandly. “He’s come to perform a weddin’ ceremony, if he can find two young folks who wanna get married.”

“Well, I’ll be . . .” Luke said, and laid his rifle aside. “Are you really a Mormon preacher?”

“A Mormon?” Freeman asked, surprised. “No, I’m not a Mormon. Your friend here didn’t say he was looking for a Mormon preacher. I’m a minister in the Presbyterian Church. Cecil Freeman’s my name. I’m sorry. If your friend had told me you were Mormons, I would have saved him the trouble of bringing me over to your camp.”

“Hold on.” Luke stopped him when he started to turn his horse around. “We ain’t Mormons. We just heard it was a Morman preacher with a wagon at the Rendezvous. We just want to be officially married. Will you do that for us?”

“I’d be happy to,” Freeman said with a small laugh. He threw one leg over and slid off his horse, “What are the names? Is this the young bride?” he asked, nodding toward Willow.

“Yes, sir. My name’s Luke Ransom and hers is Willow Blowing in the Wind. How much do you charge to marry a couple?”

“That’s already been took care of,” Jug interrupted. “That’s my weddin’ present to you and Willow.”

“Why, that’s mighty decent of you, Jug. Ain’t it, honey?” he said to Willow, who was all smiles at this point. Like himself, Luke knew Jug didn’t have but a small amount of cash money. At Rendezvous, beaver pelts took the place of cash.

“You act surprised that I could do a decent thing,” Jug remarked.

“You gotta admit that it ain’t something you’re particularly noted for,” Luke joked.

“So Jug will be a witness to the union between you and Willow,” Freeman said.

“And best man,” Jug interrupted.

“Right,” the preacher said, “and what is your last name? I brought a marriage certificate that I had printed with blank spaces where I can fill in the names and dates for you to keep as proof of your marriage.”

“Jug Sartain’s my name.”

Luke couldn’t resist. With tongue in cheek, he asked, “If everything’s gonna be official, like you say, should we put our genuine birth names on that document?”

“Shut your mouth, Luke!” Jug roared. “I’m payin’ for this weddin’, so we’ll put our callin’ names on it.” The preacher was puzzled by the laughter Jug’s response generated for Luke and Willow, unaware as he was of Jug’s long-kept secret, the fact that his mother had named him Carmen at birth. It was a secret he had been successful in keeping until recently, when Luke overheard him confessing his real name to Willow, thinking Luke was asleep.

“I’ll put whatever names you tell me on the certificate, but I trust that the names of the bride and groom are their real names,” Freeman said.

“Ain’t no problem there,” Luke told him, “just as long as we wind up bein’ Mr. and Mrs. Luke Ransom.”

“Very well,” Reverend Freeman said. “Luke, if you and Willow will stand up here, we’ll do the ceremony right by the fire.” It was a short affair, but the preacher read some passages from his Bible that were fitting to the holy union of the two young people and ended up with, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Luke had satisfied his conscience, and Willow was overjoyed. Jug was pleased with his gift of a legitimate marriage, and Reverend Freeman was happy to pick up four dollars for something he would have done for two and had often done for no payment at all. In addition, he accepted the offer of a cup of coffee and a couple of Willow’s corn cakes. In return, he gave Luke the wedding certificate with their names and the date written on it. Luke promptly gave it to Willow to keep in case she ever needed to prove her marriage.

After the preacher left to finish making his camp behind Boutwell’s, the newlywed couple and their best man sat beside the fire and finished up the coffee and johnnycakes. “I don’t know about you, partner,” Luke remarked, “but I’m about ready to pack up and pull outta here. We need to do a little scoutin’ and huntin’ to be ready for the fall season.”

“That’s a fact,” Jug agreed. “Fall will be here before you know it. As far as I’m concerned, we can start packin’ up to move outta here tomorrow. I’d like one last supper at The Chinaman’s and then get my jug filled for the trip. We already got the horses took care of. I’ve ’bout spent all the money I’m gonna spend, so I’m ready to travel.”

“Well, that sounds like the thing we oughta do,” Luke declared. “A bride ought not have to cook supper on her weddin’ night, should she?”

“I not mind cooking supper,” Willow volunteered.

“I know you don’t, honey,” Luke said, “but I want to let the folks know that you’re Mrs. Ransom before we leave Rendezvous this year.” She didn’t reply to that, but it wasn’t necessary. Her wide smile was more than enough to show her happiness.

For most trappers, summer was a time of taking it easy and moving about the friendly territory of the Shoshone or the Crow, following the deer and the elk herds. It was a time of recovery from the cold cruel life in the winter streams, trapping beaver. For Luke and Jug, however, summer was to be all of those things plus a scouting mission to find beaver. They had originally planned to return to the Little Belt Mountains, where they had been so successful in the season just passed. However, they had decided the risk might be too great to return to the same rivers and streams that had been so bountiful in prime furs last year. It was deep in Blackfoot as well as in Hudson’s Bay country, and they had experienced many encounters with Blackfoot hunting parties. As a result, they had been forced to kill or be killed more times than the average man could expect to walk away from. In the course of their success at surviving, while taking the prime beaver plews the Blackfoot considered their property, they managed to alienate an entire Blackfoot village. In light of these facts, Jug and Luke decided it best to find a new area to trap beaver this coming season. Unfortunately, the best areas for trapping were still in Blackfoot country. So it was going to be another hide-and-seek year for the two free trappers. The goal for the summer days would be to explore other parts of the Rockies, searching for an area where, as Jug expressed it, the beaver are thick as fleas on a three-legged dog.

As they expected, Lee Wong was anxious to please them when Jug told him they had come to his establishment to celebrate the wedding supper for Mr. and Mrs. Luke Ransom. As before, Lee seated them at a small table, apart from the large community table where all his customers usually sat. The preferential treatment did not go unnoticed by the collection of free trappers sitting around the big table. “Hey, Lee Wong,” Jake Purcell called out, “how come them two get all that special treatment? Their money any better than ours?”

Lee Wong rushed over to the big table. “They eat the same thing you eat,” he told Purcell. “I give everybody plenty food for your money. Why you complain?”

“Are they too good to set at the table with us?” Purcell asked, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“No, no,” Lee Wong quickly answered, “they celebrate their wedding. You get married, I put you at little table, too.”

“Hell, everybody knows he took a squaw,” Purcell said, making no effort to keep his voice down. “That ain’t the same as marryin’ a white woman.”

“Just take it easy,” Jug said softly, and put his hand on Luke’s forearm when his young friend started to push his chair back. “You don’t wanna spoil this nice supper Lee Wong’s fixed for you and Willow, do ya?”

Luke paused. He knew Jug was right.

“I’ll straighten Mr. Purcell out,” Jug said. He got up then, before Luke could stop him. He walked to the other end of the long table where Purcell and his partner, Alonzo Alvarez, were seated with two of their regular drinking buddies, Big Mike Drum and Nate Cain.

“You done shot your mouth off too loud, Purcell,” Drum scoffed. “Now Mr. Ransom has sent his little half-pint partner over here to set you straight.”

“Evenin’, Purcell,” Jug said, when he approached and nodded to the other three. “I know you fine gentlemen didn’t mean no disrespect to Luke’s wife. I just thought you might like to know that Luke and Willow were officially married this afternoon by a Presbyterian preacher. So she deserves the respect you should have for any married woman.”

“I’ll give her the respect I give every Injun squaw here at the Rendezvous,” Purcell said. He looked at his partner, Alvarez, and remarked, “In fact, pretty as she is, I’d give her some respect two or three times a day.” His remark brought forth a loud guffaw from Alvarez. “I ain’t surprised that Ransom married that damn squaw,” he continued. “I’d a’ married her, too, to get her to tell me where to trap all them packs of beaver plews you two came back with this year.”

“Is that what’s eatin’ at you?” Jug asked. “Willow didn’t have anything to do with where me and Luke trapped. We came back with all them plews because we’re better trappers than you are. Simple as that, so don’t go tryin’ to spoil a fine little woman’s weddin’ day just because you got outshined by me and her husband on the trappin’.”

“Why, you sawed-off old fool,” Purcell said. “You two ain’t foolin’ nobody. Somebody told you where all the beaver are, and you ain’t tellin’ nobody where you’re trappin’ next year, either, I notice.”

“Now, that would be a smart thing to do, wouldn’t it?” Jug responded sarcastically. “We could all trap in the same stream and everybody could get rich.” Purcell didn’t reply to that, since it was obviously a ridiculous statement. He and Jug just stared at each other for a few more moments before Jug said, “I’m just askin’ you not to shame a nice young woman who happened to be born to a Crow mother and father. That ain’t too much to ask, is it?”

Purcell didn’t answer, so Alvarez said, “I reckon not, Jug.”

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Jug responded. “I appreciate it.” He went back to the small table then and sat down again. He couldn’t help noticing the worried look in Willow’s eyes and the fact that she was gently rubbing Luke’s arm as she might if calming an agitated animal. “Just two fools shootin’ off their mouths,” Jug told her. “Don’t pay ’em no mind.”

They were able to finish their supper without hearing any more abrasive comments from the big table. When they were ready to leave and went to settle up with Lee Wong, he refused to accept any payment for the supper. “That my wedding present to you,” he said. “I so sorry about trouble with other customers.”

Jug assured him that it was of no consequence and they said good night. Before they got to the door of the huge tent, however, Purcell could not help but make one more comment loud enough to be overheard by everyone. “I reckon Ransom’s gonna go back now and give her some more respect.” It was good for another guffaw out of Big Mike Drum, but it was a bad decision for Purcell. Still tightly wound from Purcell’s earlier remarks, Luke was set to release like a fully drawn bowstring. With no warning to the smirking Purcell, Luke struck like a mountain lion attacking a deer. He grabbed him by the back of his shirt and jerked him off the bench to land on the floor. Landing on his back, Purcell managed to roll over to get on his hands and knees, but Luke gave him a stiff kick in his side that knocked the wind out of him and landed him on his back again, gasping for breath.

Alarmed by the sudden explosion of his anger, Willow started to rush to Luke’s side, but Jug caught her arm and stopped her. “No, Willow,” he said, “best leave him alone right now.” He pulled her back out of the way, while he kept an eye on Purcell’s partner, who was still seated at the table. Alvarez hesitated, not sure if he should help Purcell or not. When he caught Jug’s eye focused on him, Jug smiled and slowly shook his head. Then he opened his jacket so Alvarez could see that the pommel pistol he usually carried in a holster attached to his saddle was now stuck in his belt. Alvarez understood and remained a spectator like the other two men seated at the table.

Finally able to breathe again, Purcell rolled over on his hands and knees again, this time wary of Luke’s boot, but Luke made no attempt to stop him as he carefully got to his feet. Once he was up and facing Luke, he forced a malicious grin as he pulled his Green River skinning knife from a sheath on his belt and cautiously advanced toward Luke, who had no weapon. Making slashing motions in the air as he continued to advance toward Luke, he paused briefly just before striking out with his knife. Ready for the attack, Luke caught the wrist of Purcell’s knife hand with his left and slammed the side of his jaw with his right fist. The force of the blow caused Purcell’s knees to sag and his mouth dropped open due to a crack in his jawbone. Already finished, he made only a weak attempt to prevent Luke from forcing his knife hand back until he yelped in pain and had to drop the knife. When Luke released his wrist, Purcell collapsed to the floor. Luke turned then to focus on Alvarez, who was still sitting at the table. Alvarez immediately held his hands up, palms out, and said, “You ain’t got no problem with me. You and your wife ain’t none of my business.” Drum and Nate Cain remained seated as well, neither one willing to be the one to jump up to get shot by Jug.

“Come on, partner,” Jug said. “We’re all done here.” He wasn’t sure how far Luke’s fury had spread, but after a few moments, he turned and walked toward the door where Willow was waiting. Relieved, Jug turned and walked out behind him. It’s a good thing we’re pulling out of here tomorrow, he thought, because we’ve damn-sure got an enemy here now.

Concerned by the possibility of a visit from Purcell and Alvarez before this night was over, Luke and Jug both slept with a rifle handy. Of the three, Jug was the one who suffered the lack of sleep most. In his bedroll on the opposite side of the fire, he remained alert all night, determined that the young couple would not be disturbed on their wedding night. Luke attempted to stay alert for most of the night as well, at least until the wee hours of the morning, before deciding that Purcell would have already struck if he intended to. So he figured it safe to catch a little sleep. Then he looked at Willow, lying beside him, fast asleep, completely trusting that he would protect her. He decided he’d try to stay awake till sunup.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” Willow greeted him with a fresh cup of coffee. “I make you breakfast, but you don’t wake up. Jug still sleeping, too. That China food must be good for making you sleepy.”

“Right, that Chinese food will put you to sleep,” he said, and sat up to take the cup from her. “You say Jug’s still asleep?” She nodded. “Well, I expect I’d better get him up, too. We’ve gotta get this camp packed up and ready to move outta here.” He took a few sips of the strong black coffee, then set it aside while he pulled his moccasins on. “Go ahead and fill the plates. I’ll get Jug up.” She went back to the fire, where she had been cooking. Luke went to the other side of it and stirred Jug awake with the toe of his boot. When Jug finally came to, sat up, and reached for his rifle, Luke asked, “You ain’t slept all night, either, have you?”

“I just don’t trust that sucker,” Jug replied. “I fully expected them two to come sneakin’ around our camp last night, maybe Drum and Nate Cain, too. You put a pretty good whuppin’ on him last night.”

“Well, he had it comin’,” Luke said quickly. “He had no call to talk about Willow like that, especially after the hell she just went through last year.” He was thinking of her kidnapping by the savage Dan Bloodworth right after they had arrived at the Rendezvous. It would be difficult for her to trust any American Fur Company trapper after that, even though Luke told her there were many good men who worked for the company. And now Luke was forced to deal with a free trapper to defend her honor. She was anxious to leave the Rendezvous.

“I ain’t sayin’ he didn’t deserve it,” Jug was quick to declare in response to Luke’s comment. “I wouldn’t have expected you to react any other way. I’m just sayin’ we’d best watch our backs till we get outta here. So I reckon we’d better get busy and get this camp packed up. I thought we was ready to pull outta here today, but I know Willow ain’t got everything she needs. So you’re gonna need to take her to Cartwright’s General Merchandise. And we need a new coffeepot, so we can make a full pot instead of filling it just short of that bullet hole in the neck of it.”

“You sure you wanna get rid of that coffeepot?” Luke asked. “Willow’s made some dern good coffee in that pot.”

“Yeah, and she’s had to make it again before we got all the coffee we wanted,” Jug replied. “If you think so much of that pot, why don’t you keep it? Maybe you could hang it on Thunder’s neck, like the Injuns decorate their horses.”

“Now that you mention it, we need to take another good look at our packhorses to make sure they’re all in good shape,” Luke said. “I’d hate to think we sold all the best ones outta that bunch we brought back with us. I don’t expect that old skinflint we sold those horses to would sell one of ’em back to us at the same price, even if we did want one of ’em back.” He looked at Jug and shook his head. “Hell, we’re not gonna get outta here today. It’ll be more like tomorrow.”

“I expect you’re right,” Jug said. “Have you told Willow what we decided to do this year?”

“Not exactly,” Luke said. “I’m going to before we start out. She just seemed so happy this mornin’ that I hated to tell her. I know what she’s gonna say.”

“Well, damn it, Luke, you’d best tell her,” Jug scolded. “She’s got a right to know what she’s gettin’ into.”

“Tell me what?” Willow asked, overhearing Jug.

“I was gonna talk to you about it later on this mornin’, but I reckon we might as well tell you now, since Jug has already brought it up. You know, when I left American Fur to become a free trapper, I partnered up with Jug because we both believed the only way to make the best money trappin’ beaver was to go where everybody else is afraid to go. And by that, I’m talkin’ about Hudson’s Bay and Blackfoot territory. Unfortunately, that’s where most of the beaver are and the Blackfoot figure they own ever’ last one of ’em.”

“Why you tell me this?” Willow asked. “I know this.”

“Because Jug and I are plannin’ to trap beaver up in Blackfoot and Hudson’s Bay country again this season. I’m not sure I should take you back to where it’s so dangerous. I don’t want to take a chance on losin’ you.”

She smiled tenderly, pleased by his concern. “We already talk about this. I go where you go. I am your wife.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t feel safer if you stayed in your old village in the Absarokas until I come back to Rendezvous next summer?” Luke asked.

Jug and Willow exchanged looks of amazement, and Jug answered before she had a chance to. “That’s the dumbest thing I think I’ve ever heard you say. That’s where Bloody Hand and his warriors killed her husband and carried her off to Blackfoot country.”

Still smiling warmly, she looked at him and said again, “I go where you go. I have certificate that say so.”

“She’s got you there, partner,” Jug said. “She’s your bonified wife. Where you go, she goes. And that sure as shootin’ suits me. She is mighty handy when it comes to cookin’ and helpin’ with the skinnin’ and scrapin’ of beaver plews.”

“Yeah, I expect she does make life easier for both of us, and that’s a fact,” Luke said. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Are you sure you want to head back to the mountains with that old cuss and me?”

“I sure,” she answered. “Maybe we go back to camp we make in Little Belt Mountains.”

“No, we won’t be goin’ back there this fall,” Luke said. “We’re going to go west of there to a place we haven’t trapped before. It’s a long way from here and we’ll be hunting all summer to make sure we’ve got plenty for you to cook.”

“Luke’s right,” Jug told her. “We’re gonna trap some mountains and valleys northwest of here that I always wanted to check out for beaver sign, even when I worked for Hudson’s Bay. The company didn’t want us to trap in that area because the Injuns was huntin’ the beaver. They’d go after ’em with their bows or trade guns. Sometimes the pelts would have holes in ’em, but they didn’t want the white man trappin’ their beaver. And I know there’s one mountain range up there that’s split into two sides, the east and the west, and they’re divided by a river that runs between ’em. The east range has the higher mountains, rugged peaks and glacier-like lakes in the winter. But the west range is a gentler rolling range, covered with lodgepole pines and a favorite place for pronghorn deer and elk. I’ve always thought the beaver are probably so big and fat there they’d take comfort in a Number Four Newhouse beaver trap. And they’ll fight to see which one. . .