OCR Text |
Show TV Listings, March 7, 1985 Page 8 where the trail passed between two large boulders, Ike pushed over a dead tree to block the trail. What did you do that for? asked. Well have to move it when we bring the horses out of here." Dont want horses to get away while we gone." "Gone? Where are we going?" "Get more horses." "Were not going back there!" exclaimed, pointing in the general direcI Upon seeing the Indians, Ike urged his horse forward in the narrow gap of meadow between the racing herd and the river. He waved for me to follow him. My inclination was to stay away from the river to avoid being trapped in the corner where the river and cliffs came together at the bottom of the meadow. When I hesitated, Ike motioned again for me to follow him. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and was insistent that I follow. I urged my horse into the gap between the herd and the river, not understanding why, but trusting in Ike's judgment. We were almost to the end of the meadow when Ike pointed to a spot just ahead of us where the main current of the river pushed close against the shore undercutting the grassy bank. It wasnt until Ike held his nose with two fingers to indicate he was going swimming that I realized that he intended to ride his horse over the bank into the raging current. Quickly I glanced over my shoulder at the pursuing Indians who were now even with us, on the other side of the thundering herd. As much as I dreaded the thought of going into the river, I realized it was too late to consider any other alternatives. There were none, other than getting caught and killed by the Indians. With a sudden jerk, I pulled my horse's head towards the cut away bank. The horses first reaction was to stop, but it was too late. It lunged forward into space, just as Ike and his horse hit the water ahead and to the right. The plunge unseated me, but I managed to grab the horse's tail before it swam out of reach. The water was icy cold. looked for Ike and spotted him directly ahead, lying flat over the back of his horse, guiding it downI stream into the main current. My horse was following. As we were swept past the bottom of the meadow where the horse herd had ground to a halt at the water's edge, I could see the mounted Indians trying to push through the milling horses in a vain effort to get into position to shoot arrows at us before Ike and I disappeared out of sight into the raging canyon. We were swept into the blackness of the canyon before the Indians had a chance to shoot a single arrow. The river narrowed between the cliffs and ran faster and faster. We piloted our horses the best we could to avoid the occasional boulders that fought viciously against the racing current. The towering cliffs on each side made escape impossible. Occasionally the moon came into view as the river wound its way among the cliffs. We looked ahead the best we could for any kind of a break in the rock walls that could offer a possible escape route. Suddenly the river grew quiet, but it didnt seem to slow down. Ahead we could hear what sounded like distant thunder. It wasnt thunder in that it didn't stop, but gradually grew louder and louder. It was the sound of water crashing on rocks, possibly a waterunfall, but white water for sure-a- n controllable force that would beat us and our horses into pemmican. As we were swept around a bend, the river suddenly widened, shallow and quiet before the worst rapids, exposing a sandy beach and wooded valley on the west bank. A few minutes later, with blue lips and chattering teeth, Ike and I led our horses onto the beach. After running up and down the beach a few times to get warm, we gathered materials for a bow drill to make a fire. I removed some of the fringe from my buckskin shirt to fashion the bow string. Soon my soaked buckskins were steaming from the warmth of the fire. Ike and I were chewing on the last of my wet jerky while the two horses were grazing nearby. Ike was in good spirits, pleased that we had succeeded in stealing two horses, a gain of one since we had had to leave my old horse behind. As far as I was concerned, we had failed. I knew Neuwafe wouldnt take less than ten horses for Red Leaf. I had to have at least that many. I realized how stupid I was to think I could just ride up to an Indian camp and run off with all the horses I wanted. Indians were used to people trying to steal their horses and weren't about to make horse stealing easy. had learned that lesson the hard way. Still, I had to have horses. I was opposed to trading slave children for horses and I had never even seen a wild horse, let alone caught one. Stealing still seemed the best way to go. But how? It was clear those Indians didn't intend to make it easy for us. Maybe we could go back to the meadow and watch until the Indians tried to move the horses, then make a move. Still it seemed like a risky undertaking, doomed to failure. It was a restless night for me, thinking of Red Leaf and trying to figure out a better way to get horses. On the other side of the fire, Ike seemed to be sleeping peacefully. At first light we explored the little valley, on foot. We discovered a game trail and followed it to the top of the plateau. was annoyed with Ike's cheerfulness. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying our little adventure. On our way back to camp, at a place I I I tion of the Indian village. I show you how we get horses. Ike knelt down and began to sketch his plan in the sand. This time the plan made sense. I was sure it would work. We began making preparations to return to the Indian village. Chapter 35 At dusk, Ike and I were high in the rocks, where we had an excellent view. The Indian village looked peaceful enough, no different from the day before. The dogs and children were playing as usual. Apparently the Indians were no longer alarmed by our attempted raid on their horses. They probably figured the raging river had carried us to watery graves. All the Indians seemed to be near the camp. None were out in the meadow with the grazing horses. We could see the grassy bank from which our horses had leaped into the river the night before. We could see the sandy beach at the bottom of the meadow where the cliffs met the river, the same place where the stampeding horse herd had come to a halt the night before. As soon as it was too dark to be seen from the tepees we crawled down from the cliffs into the meadow as we had done the night before. Each of us caught a horse and led it quietly over to the sandy beach at the bottom of the meadow. Ike took both of the lead ropes and walked into the water, trying to get the horses to follow. When they pulled back, I slapped their rears with a long willow branch. Reluctantly they followed Ike into the river. As soon as they were swimming, Ike removed the ropes. After giving them several good, hard slaps on the backs with the wet ropes to keep them swimming towards the middle of the stream, Ike headed back to shore. By the time the horses tried to turn back, curit was too late. The rent had carried them into the chute of no return. Our plan was a very simple one. Any horse we could get into the chute would be carried to our canyon where we had escaped the river the night before. No horse with any sense would continue swimming past the little valley with the sandy beach. All would want to join the other horses already grazing in the lush meadow. Our challenge was to get as many horses as possible into the river before the moon came up, without the Indians knowing what we were doing. At alt costs we had to avoid spooking the horses or making any noise that would attract the attention of the Indians. We were fortunate to have a beach at the bottom of the meadow. The task would have been infinitely more difficult if we had had to force the horses to jump from a bank, but leading them into the gradually deepening swift-movin- g water at the beach wasnt nearly so hard. One thing on our side was that most of the animals were accustomed to crossing streams. River crossings were common in the everyday life of the nomadic wanderers, especially those who had horses. A horse that had been with a wandering Indian tribe for any length of time had crossed numerous streams and rivers. Most Indians had little patience for a horse that resisted plunging into raging rivers or leaping over difficult rock formations or fallen trees. The most common means of persuasion was a small pine tree with the branches removed about an inch from the trunk. After sharpening the branch ends, the Indian would begin to whip the reluctant horse on the rear until it plunged forward. Apparently most of the horses in the meadow were accustomed to this kind of treatment, and offered little resistance to our efforts to get them into the river. Soon our teeth were chattering from going in and out of the icy water, but we continued to work, enthusiastic about the success we were having. By the time the moon peeked over the mountain, we had pulled or driven 32 animals into the river. Catching two more, and mounting them, we followed the horses into the raging chute. When we reached the valley where the wet horses were grazing quietly in the meadow, we heaped twigs on the uncovered coals of our old fire and soon were warming ourselves in front of a blazing fire. I couldn't help but wonder what the Indians would do when they discovered that some of their horses were missing. They would probably circle the meadow looking for tracks to indicate where the horses had gotten out. The first time around they would probably pass up the beach where we had driven them into the river because that was the usual drinking place where tracks from drinking horses would be expected. Since they would find no other tracks leaving the meadow, eventually they would have to conclude that the horses had disappeared down the river. They would follow, possibly in the river, but more likely along the cliffs until they discovered our little valley where the horses had emerged from the river. If we were lucky, they wouldn't discover the little valley until late the next day. At any rate, we didn't intend to wait around any longer than necessary. As soon as our steaming clothes were hot enough to take away the shivering and tooth chattering, we rounded up the horses and began driving them out of the canyon. We pushed over dead trees at several narrow places in the trail in an effort to make it as difficult as possible for the Indians to follow us. Chapter 36 It was early on a frosty morning in late April, 1841, when Ike and I stampeded our newly acquired horse herd through the Ute village. A few minutes later, I was standing in front of tepee, holding the lead ropes to 15 horses. I hadn't yet seen Red Leaf, but I didn't expect to see her until the dowry had been accepted. Neu-wafe- s |