The Way West Read Online Free PDF

knew trouble and patience both. On impulse Fairman asked, "What do you say, sir?"
   "It ain't my deal."
   "Deal, anyhow, will you?"
   The man addressed himself to Tolty. "How do Injuns feel bout mules?"
   Tolty was quick to answer. "Crazy about 'em, like everybody else. Plumb crazy about 'em."
   The man nodded silently, as if he had made a point, and looked down at the reins in his hand.
   Tolty's mouth opened, as if suddenly he realized he had overstepped himself but couldn't figure how he had.
   "What Injun love, Injun steal," Hig said, and the man looked up, his mouth impassive but his eyes grinning.
   "Tolty faced around toward the man. "You got a goddam long nose."
   "Wait!" Fairman broke in. "I asked him a question, and he answered it. You mean Indians will steal mules but not oxen?"
   "Could be."
   Tolty tried to stare the man away. "Leave the gentleman buy what he wants. It's none of your nevermind."
   The man was quiet, flicking the reins against the palm of his hand. When he spoke again, it was still mildly. "That big mule there. Seems like he used to belong to Tom Proctor. Tom allowed he was the sure-footedest critter he ever did see."
   "That's just what I been tellin' 'em."
   "Yes, sir," the man went on. "Tom said that mule would look close and pick out the teeth he wanted to kick out of a man's face, and then he would let fly and never miss. Not once."
   Hig said, "Now that's what I call sure-footed. If I had me a tooth, I bet he would kick it out:"
   "Whyn't you get the hell away?" Tolty almost shouted. "Damn if I ain't a mind to run you off." He moved toward the ,gate, acting full of purpose.
   The man stood quiet, his foot on the stump and his hands resting on his uplifted knee. Fairman wondered whether he saw the dirk at Tolty's side. All he said was, "Take it easy, hoss."
   Tolty stopped, like a dog that had run out full of noisy fury and had to brake himself at the last minute to keep from biting off more than he could chew.
   The tone of grievance came into Tolty's voice. "You ain't goin' to buy nothin'. You got no honest business here."
   "I reckon you're right," the man said, and took his foot from the stump and stepped back toward his horse. "What might your name be?"
   Hig answered Tolty. "It might be Old Hickory. Might be Andy Jackson himself in person."
   "Dick Summers."
   "Dick Summers?" Fairman repeated.
   "You got it right." The man swung a leg over his horse and sat still for a minute. He took them in, Tolty with his cigar,    Hig, Fairman, Tod clinging to Fairman's hand. Then he swung his horse around.
   Fairman wanted to call to him, to ask if he was the mountain man, to ask if he'd pilot a company to Oregon, but he stood silent as the horse jogged away, knowing only that he'd seen the second man he'd like to travel with.
 

    Chapter Three
    DICK SUMMERS sat on a stump and smoked his pipe. The days were longer than before, but dusk already had settled among the trees, and in the cabin the women had struck a light, maybe more for the cheer of it than to see by. He hitched himself on the stump, knowing he ought to go and find the cow and milk her, seeing as nobody had, but he still sat and smoked, thinking he would do it after a while.
   Down along the creek, where the water had leaked out into a little marsh, the frogs were tuning up. There was the smell of spring in the air, of spring full-sized and growing into summer. The dogwood and redbud had put out their flowers, and leaves waved on the poplar and wild cherry. He ought to go and milk the cow.
   Far off, beyond the long plain of the Platte, along Green River or the Popo Agie and north toward the Three Forks, the trappers -or those that were left of them- would be busy, setting their traps and making their lifts and counting days till rendezvous, except that there wasn't any rendezvous any more but only Jim Bridger's fort, and it