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From Forth Laramie, they headed southwest past Independence Rock and on through what they were calling the South Pass. Its elevation was seventy-five-hundred feet, and many of the settlers were feeling it in their stock and in their own walk behind or beside their wagons. Still, they were warned, this wasn’t the worst of the mountains they would encounter. They stopped at Fort Bridger where they lost some of their people to the California Trail that would be cutting south into Utah and across Nevada into California. It sounded horrible with its lack of water and lots of sand and desert, but some were determined. Erin and Molly both wondered if they should have taken that route instead of continuing to head for Oregon.
Water was becoming scarce as they headed into what would someday be southeast Idaho. Erin was careful to top off the barrels for their own needs and to share with their stock, even for their seedlings that they were coddling along. With five children and two adults, they went through a tremendous amount of drinking water. Keeping their saplings, poultry, and stock watered took a lot as well and they had to be sparing. Many weren’t as prudent, and a few tempers flared when not everyone shared. It proved to be a tense time as water was rare in this area as the season dried it up.
The trail became more dangerous as they headed through mountains towards Fort Hall. The good news was, they were now traveling along the Snake River. It was a treacherous and dangerous river, but they now had water in abundance.
“What kind of Indians are those, Pa?” Tommy asked, fascinated with the different tribes. He had turned seven on this trip, and Molly had managed to make him a small cake that they all shared. They were plodding along behind the herd, bringing them into the pens that were there for the travelers.
“Wallace and his men say there are Shoshone and Bannock,” she told her son, pleased that he was asking questions instead of pointing or repeating some nonsense others had spouted about all Indians. She knew a lot of the children were learning misinformation from their parents. She didn’t think she and Molly were better parents, but she knew better than to say, “The only good Indian was a dead Indian,” and, “All Indians are heathens.” She’d made sure to tell the children they were people, just different people with dissimilar and diverse ways about them. They weren’t wrong, they were just different than their own. Many didn’t understand that.
“Pretty,” he breathed as he saw those who had dressed up to come to the fort and trade.
Erin had wondered if they wore those clothes every day in their tribes, but the mountain men explained that coming to the fort was a special occasion and they wore some of their best. She looked around the fort. It was white with heavy timber beams, and looking at the surrounding mountains and ‘hills,’ as the mountain men called them, she could see where they got the wood.
There were abandoned wagons at the fort where early immigrants had traveled and then, hearing of the trail beyond the fort, left their wagons to continue on foot, carrying only what would keep them barely alive. Travel farther west wasn’t established until later, when a man by the name of Whitman, who had established a fort near Walla Walla in what would become the state of Washington, led a wagon train from the fort. The abandoned wagons that hadn’t been sold to the few settlers who lived near the fort were scavenged for parts.
Erin found this part of the trip beautiful and intriguing, and its beauty only increased as they went farther into the mountains. She knew some people felt small and insignificant on the vast plains they had left behind, but the farmer in her had seen the potential for vast fields. Now, she could see a good farm and good wood in the valleys and mountains around them.
“It were built by a Yankee by the name of Wyeth. He sold it to the Hudson’s Bay. Since the British owned her, they done a heap of improvements,” one of the mountain men still traveling with the train told his listeners. “They added adobe brick onto them there logs.”
Erin, along with other farmers, was curious about those who had settled around the area.
“Well, I hear wheat and turnips is grown here with a fair amount of success, but the silt is bad for the fields. Maybe do good with some cattle?”
Erin, willing to find out in Oregon how both crops and animals fared, carefully tended her remaining cattle. She knew she was well-off compared to others who only had one cow or the oxen that had brought them out, but she worried how she and Molly would do in Oregon with five children to provide for. It was still a long way to get there and they had a lot of mountains to travel through.
The train continued out of Fort Hall, following roughly along the treacherous Snake River. Originally, it was named the Lewis River after the Lewis and Clark expedition in 1805. Many rivers contributed to this rocky river. It was supposedly navigable by canoe, but Erin and others could see the series of rapids with rocks in every direction and wondered. Even the rivers that flowed into it made for dangerous crossings, and Molly had her hands full with the horses and oxen, much less the children. The children had learned to stay quiet at such river crossings, not bothering or distracting their ma. Erin had made it very clear how dangerous such places were for them all. She worried not only about the capable Molly, but the animals they forced to swim the hazardous river crossings. She was eternally grateful that the dogs seemed to have the sheep well in hand, and she sometimes wondered what she would do without them.
They were all becoming tired of the monotony of the entire trek. After months in the wagon without being able to take more than a spritz bath, they both welcomed the rain. It would totally soak Erin and the children, who were walking or riding, so they got cleaned down to their skin and had to change into dry clothing.
“If I have to wash this one more time,” Molly complained good-naturedly as Erin helped her with the clothes. She was the only man who did so and had gotten some very odd looks. The children had learned to help as well, and the clean clothes were on a rope stretched between two trees where they had stopped for the day off. It seemed they worked harder than ever on these days of “rest.” The only things that really got a rest were the animals, who took advantage to eat their fill.
“I think I’ve nearly worn out that shirt,” Erin replied as she looked at the shirt Molly was scrubbing on the wash board.
“What happens when you wear them all out?” Tabitha asked, dreaming of new clothes. Their ma’s wonderful trunk filled with hand-me-downs sometimes seemed endless with its wonders. She was very happy with what the Herriots had provided, and despite all the work, she was happy with her life with them so far. She could see that her siblings felt the same way.
“I’ll make a new one,” Erin responded, much to the girl’s surprise. She had thought Molly would answer that. “We have a sewing machine packed in the wagon that my pa bought for the house. We all had to learn how to use it,” she lied a little. It had really been purchased, so Erin would learn how to make shirts for her pa and brothers. She had, but she remembered her brothers trying it out too.
Tabitha shook her head, sure her pa was teasing her...but then again, maybe not. He sure knew how to do things that most pas wouldn’t even try. Molly also did things that were traditionally done by men, and Tabitha was having to rethink outdated roles, which had been her new parents’ intent.
“Pa! Pa! I saw a bear,” Theo came running up to tell them as they finished up. Molly poured the dirty, soapy water out on the ground.
“I hope not,” Erin replied, amused. She was hoping not to see a bear up here. It was bad enough having to watch the narrow road that cut through the mountains and the wagons tilting precariously on them. Taking the herd and flock on that road behind the wagons, they had lost two settlers’ cows over the edge so far. They didn’t need to worry about bears.
“What color was yer baar?” one of the mountain men had overheard Theo and asked the boy.
“I’m-I’m-not-sure,” he stuttered, surprised the man would address him directly.
“Was it brown? Black?”
The boy shook his head and said, “It looked kinda silver with some brown.”
“You lie,” the old man stated, wanting to see the boy’s reaction.
“My boy don’t lie,” Erin responded stiffly. Theo looked at his pa in gratitude.
Several people were listening now.
“I were just funnin’ the boy,” the old man responded, hearing the tone in Erin’s voice. Frowning at her, slightly puzzled, he continued, “Y’alls better hope that ain’t no silver baar.”
“Why is that?” Erin asked, trying to calm the instant anger she had felt towards the older man. She knew they knew a lot more than she did about this part of the world.
“That sounds like a grizz, and we don’t want no grizzleyss,” he answered, stressing the word.
Erin would have to agree. They all knew there were grizzlies in the mountains, but if the children had seen one, she would keep her guns near her and her powder dry.
That night, the horses and mules seemed a little agitated, which seemed to unsettle the cattle. Erin was lying in the tent, worrying over the thought of the bear and wondering if the disturbance in the air was psychosomatic or prophetic. Unable to sleep and not willing to wake Molly, who slept so peacefully beside her, she got up, shook out her boots, and got dressed.
Both dogs and their one remaining pup slapped their tails on the ground to greet her. The pup got up to see if he could go with her. Erin stopped to listen to the night, hearing crickets, owls, and other night creatures. She could hear the domesticated animals, her poultry, and the sheep. Even the cattle and horses were a little restless. She made sure to put her gun in the belt of her pants and then sling the two rifles to her back as she checked on her campsite, peering out in the darkness.
As she stood again, she heard some odd snuffling sounds. She could hear her neighbors snoring while sleeping outside their wagons. One had gas and the sounds seemed to reverberate through the night. She slowly walked over to where her horses were picketed, near their campsite in the circle and not in the general herd. Gently, she petted the stallion and the mare, both rubbing against her, familiar with her and the dogs’ smell. She began to approach the herd. Some of the cows were down, chewing their cuds and sleeping, but Billy wasn’t, and that alarmed her. He sensed something, as did several of the other cows with calves. She peered out of the corners of her eyes to see.
“You sense it too?” a voice came out of the dark, and she recognized one of the old mountain men traveling with them.
“Something is in the air,” she answered in agreement, keeping her voice as low as his, so as not to wake people.
“Yep. I’m guessing wild animals are checking us out. They smell food and are wonderin’ what they need to do to get it.” She could almost sense when he patted his rifle. “They is wonderin’ if it’s worth tryin’ for.”
Erin nodded, understanding. She could hear Billy’s own snuffling. It sounded as though he had asthma as he breathed heavily through his nostrils in the night air. The moon wasn’t up yet, and Erin couldn’t tell the time, but it was dark without the moon to light up the night. She heard one of her chickens clucking in disgruntlement. Another answered her, and it seemed like they were crooning the way they settled down.
The old mountain man looked around, not trusting the night sounds. He heard the bull and trusted the animal a helluva lot more than his own senses. He heard the settler’s poultry making sounds of disgruntlement. It paid to listen.
The moon slowly came over the tall trees in the meadow they had chosen to camp in. The trees were forty or fifty feet high, and there were quite a few deadfalls, almost as though something had come through and knocked down the trees decades before. The trees that survived and the ones that grew up around the survivors made for a hazardous area. The children had loved playing hide and seek in the area surrounding the meadow. It also made a good hidey-hole for wild animals, who peered curiously at the invaders, unseen except by other animals. Now, in the darkness, the animals could smell the wild animal and instinctively knew it was dangerous. It was a long time before they all calmed down and Erin felt sleepy enough to head back to their campsite. She petted her animals, calming them and Billy with her presence before heading to the fire and throwing a few more sticks on it to keep it burning through the night. She fell asleep beside it, her hand on her rifle. Molly found her there in the early morning, woken by the cold and wondering where Erin was. She put a blanket on her, hoping she wouldn’t be too stiff for that day’s drive.
Erin wasn’t the only one who woke up stiff and who’d had trouble sleeping. Many were tired as they drove through the mountains.
“Somethin’s trackin’ us,” Erin overheard one of the mountain men tell Wallace and his men.
“Indians?”
The old mountain man shook his head. “I don’ think so. It feels different.”
“So, we should be on alert for a feeling?” Wallace asked, sounding incredulous but trying not to scoff.
The old man shrugged. “Just tellin’ ya what I feel based on experience.”
“Maybe you should track it down and see what it is up to?” he suggested in return.
Walking away, the old man didn’t seem to hear him, and Erin wondered what, if anything, was tracking them. Somehow, she believed the old man. Last night she had felt something around their camp and was sure she hadn’t imagined it.
That night, as they made camp in another bad area, Erin got that feeling again. It was a similar location to the night before but without the tree-free meadow. Something was out there, and the horses and cattle were edgy. The sheep seemed oblivious, but the cats and dogs weren’t settling down either.
“C’mon, Herriot. Two bits for a pup is a wee bit too much. Won’t you sell ‘im for less?” one of the settlers was trying to wheedle a deal with Erin.
Erin looked at the man, who was smiling in what he probably thought was a charming way. “Nope,” she answered succinctly, finishing her chores as she got their camp ready. “They are good dogs and worth every penny.”
The man wouldn’t debate that. He had watched them along the trip, and King and Queenie were valuable assets to own. He really wanted their pup, the last one of the litter. He wanted to get it before anyone else did, and he’d heard several others discussing the animals that Herriot owned. Even the cats, something not many people had thought to bring, were drawing interest. “But two bits? That’s a lot of money for dog.”
“Not out here. It’s supply and demand.” She was looking to where Tabitha had taken one of the teams of horses to the stream they had camped near, watching for her return.
“Okay, okay. I’ll buy him if you’re still selling?” he asked, unsure as Erin’s tone had changed slightly with her distraction.
“What? Yeah, okay,” she answered, realizing that he was holding out a quarter for the pup. Taking it, she gestured to the pup and called Queenie and King to her to distract them from the pup. She hoped they wouldn’t object to the pup being taken. At least they would still see it while they were in the wagon train together. As this pup had been with them the longest, the parents had become a little possessive of it. The man picked up the ungainly pup and Erin called to Tommy and Theresa, who were about to protest. “You fed and watered the ducks and geese yet?” They guiltily set about their chores, but Timmy didn’t feel such restraint.
“My doggie,” he yelled, and Molly quickly scooped him up, having seen Erin sell the last pup. She regretted it was gone, but she knew they couldn’t keep it either.
“Whoopsie daisy,” she said playfully to the toddler to distract him.
“Oopsie daisy,” he lisped slightly in return, enjoying the play.
Erin gave Molly a grateful look as she saw Tommy and Theresa dipping water from the barrels for the birds. She went to the wagon to pull the sacks of seedlings out. They wanted to send out shoots in the warmer spring weather, so she watered them faithfully, setting them out beside the wagon on the far side, so the soaking would last a few days.
Theo came back with one of the two yokes of oxen and they unhooked the yoke together, rubbing the animals’ necks as they released them to the herd for the night. “Pa, they were acting up down by the stream,” Theo reported as he rubbed thoughtfully.
“Yeah, there is something in the air up here. I’m feeling it as well,” she answered, glancing around as though to see what was causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand up.
“What’s wrong with Theresa?” he asked as he reached around a little farther to rub away the indents from the yoke before pushing the ox on its way.
“Sold the last puppy,” she told him as she slapped her ox on the rump.
“Didn’t you say that King and Queenie would have more?” he asked, worried that his sister was upset. He too would miss the pup. It had been fun and was much different from the kittens, who were playing rambunctiously in the wagon. He’d already cleaned up a couple of messes before his ma could see them.
Erin nodded, wondering if she should tell them that she suspected Queenie was carrying but not wanting to get the children’s hopes up. She’d seen King mount the bitch more than once when she came into heat. He’d even gotten into a fight when other dogs tried to come around, enticed by her scent. It had caused some enmity between her and some of the other settlers over the viciousness of her dog.
“What’s taking that child so long?” Molly asked as she got dinner going on the fire Erin had started.
Erin looked around, doing a head count of their children. Timmy was playing with a kitten now, and the other two were finishing up with watering the poultry. She could hear clucks, peeps, and an occasional honk or quack, almost in thanks for them feeding the birds. King and Queenie were panting in the shade of the wagon, earning a rest after the hard day. Theo was making sure the small fold within the enclosure formed by the circled wagons held the sheep, tightening a rope here and there. It didn’t really hold the sheep, but the sheep thought it did, and it paid to keep them in it and away from the cattle and horses. Where was Tabitha? She could see the other team of horses grazing near the oxen with whom they spent so much time. The stallion and mare were tied near their campsite, both grazing avidly, waiting to be brushed out and unsaddled. “Maybe I should take a look?” she offered, and without waiting, she made sure her gun was tucked in her waistband and one of the rifles was across her shoulder as she headed for the stream where she had sent the girl with the team.
As she passed the circle of the wagons, the last wagon being put into line and waiting on the herd, she saw Tabitha returning with the team. She was traipsing along in front of them, swinging a stick in the weeds. Erin knew what she was doing. Since they had once found a tick on the girl’s neck, she was swatting the weeds to hopefully discourage any of the hiding creatures from crawling up her dress and biting her. It had completely creeped the girl out when Molly used tweezers to pull it off and throw it into the fire once Erin drew it out from where it had burrowed into her skin with a burning sliver. Tabitha was totally oblivious to her surroundings, the horses plodding along behind the girl, familiar with the routine and just following her. Billy and several of the cows and horses were being herded from the stream behind her by a couple of the settlers. It was then, she saw a horrible sight.
Without warning, a large, brown bear with a distinctive V of white over its shoulders came lumbering out of the darkening woods, making for the girl and the delicious-looking horses. With a bellow of rage, Billy issued a challenge, not only for the trespass near his cows but for the challenge to his authority as the bull of the herd. Erin, seeing the horror before her, ran back to grab the reins for the stallion and jump into the saddle. Digging her heels into his flanks, she caused him to shoot through the gap left in the circle. The settlers putting their wagon in the circle gaped at her as their mules began to whinny in protest when the stallion shot by in front of them. Erin headed directly for the large bear that roared a challenge at Billy, who had already lowered his head to use his horns against the bear.
Erin pulled the rifle from its place on the saddle, the scabbard holding it up for only a moment as she yanked, aimed, and fired, all in an instant. She had no idea if it hit or not because the bear didn’t pause. Dropping the rifle back into the scabbard, she was in time to wheel the now scared stallion, who finally realized the danger he was in and started acting up as he spilled her from her seat. She tumbled in the rocks, feeling the abrasions as the rocks scraped along her body. She grabbed her pistol to fire point-blank at the immense bear, who was standing on its hind legs. It was trying to get at the stallion, who had run by and caused him immense pain, or so he thought. He was becoming confused by the horses that had been his intended prey, the bull bellowing a challenge, and the girl, who was now in the way.
A scream caught in Tabitha’s throat at the sight of the big bear. She was suddenly pulled off her feet and dragged by the plunging horses, who headed for the safety of the wagon circle, unknowingly saving the young girl in the process.
Billy arrived a second behind Erin and hooked his needle-sharp horn into the body of the bear, who issued a roar of outrage and immediately bent to enfold the large bull, trying to hook him with its claws and teeth.
Erin, seeing her beloved bull at risk, managed to pull the rifle from her sling and fire into the bear’s head. She had no time to reload and was ready to use it as a club if necessary as she watched the bull and grizzly fight. They were nearly evenly matched in size, but Billy had the benefit of his human shooting into the bear three times, and the animal was losing blood quickly. As the bear leaned over, it sprayed the bull with its blood. The scent of blood on his muzzle enraged the bull, who was using his horns to good effect. It pushed the bear backwards, but unfortunately for Erin, towards her. Scrambling back, looking for a way to strike at the bear, she remembered the enormous Indian knife she had started carrying in the scabbard at her hip. Slipping the rifle to her back, she pulled the knife out but not before the momentum of the two huge animals’ fighting threw her across the rocks farther. By the time she got the knife out of its sheath, others from the wagon train were primed and aiming at the bear. Three more shots took the bear out, but Billy continued to ravish his enemy’s body with his horns as it died.
Erin, the adrenaline still pumping through her body, started whistling to the bull to calm him. Slowly, the blood lust left his eyes. He seemed to blink and look up at his human. Almost as though he were wagging his tail, he flicked it to get rid of the ever-present flies and then shook himself, glancing at his human and then heading for his herd of cows, allowing himself to be herded back into the circle with them. The entire altercation hadn’t taken long, but the grizzly was well-killed by them all, and Erin stared at it for a moment as her body began to shake.
“Are you okay, Herriot?”
“Erin, can I help you?”
Voices rang out all around her, but Erin methodically began to fill and prime her rifle and pistol, the other one on the stallion’s saddle. She looked around, “Anyone catch my stallion?”
“He’s over here.”
“Got him!”
“His reins got tangled.”
Erin nodded and began to walk away from the grizzly and towards the wagon train, putting away the Indian knife and looking down. She didn’t see the horrified stares of several members of the train as she walked. “You okay?” she asked Tabitha, who was getting up from the ground where the horses had dragged her. Someone had grabbed the team before they got too far.
“Yes, Pa. You okay?” she asked, obviously scared.
“I’ll be fine. Let’s get you to your ma and get you cleaned up.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?” Erin asked in return, confused, and then she looked down at herself. The rocks and the big animals had really done a number on her. She was bleeding from many places, her shirt and jacket both ripped. The bindings for her breasts were visible but only to her since she was looking to see the damage. She looked up in time to see a horrified Molly come rushing to her, many of the settlers staring. She pulled her jacket closed to hide most of the damage, self-consciously covering the bindings that hid her breasts.
“Land sakes, Erin! Are you okay?” she asked and then saw Tabitha was hurt too.
“Look to the girl,” Erin ordered. “I’m fine.” She wasn’t, but she wasn’t about to admit it. One of the settlers handed her the reins to the stallion, and she watched as the herd was brought into the circle and the last wagon rolled into place. “I’ll just unsaddle the two of them,” she promised.
“Pa, you’re bleeding,” Theo told her unnecessarily.
“Yep, that’s what you get when you play with bears,” she tried to joke weakly as she tied off the stallion and began to remove the saddle at their wagon. “Get the brushes and clean him up, okay? He deserves it,” she added as the boy ran to do as he was told. She pulled her rifle from the saddle scabbard and began to load it. There was nothing more useless than an unloaded gun, and you never knew when you would need it. As she went to remove the mare’s saddle after putting hobbles on the stallion and letting him go to eat his fill, the adrenaline had worn off, and she was feeling her pain. Removing the saddle really hurt her ribs, and she gasped at the pain. It seemed to take forever to remove the saddle and get the horse settled.
“Come with me,” Molly told her in no uncertain terms, pulling her into their tent and out of sight of their neighbors’ curious eyes. Everyone was talking about Erin’s heroics and what they had seen.
“I’ve got to see to Billy,” she protested, but at the look in her wife’s eyes, she decided not to argue. Besides, she really was hurting.
As they pulled the ripped shirt away from her torso, they saw the extent of her scrapes and cuts. Molly had prepared ripped sheets and began stopping the blood as well as using rags to wipe away the worst of the blood. Erin hissed in pain as some were quite deep.
“I might have to sew a couple of these,” Molly warned as she fussed at them. “You are going to have some bad bruises tomorrow, and you will have some scars.”
“At least they didn’t hit me where I sit,” she joked, trying to get Molly to laugh. It could have been much, much worse.
“Herriot? You want the claws or the pelt?” a voice called from outside the tent.
Erin and Molly exchanged a look. Erin was naked from the waist up, bleeding into her trousers, and the only thing hiding her breasts was the bindings that were torn and coated with blood. Erin chose to call back. “Yeah, I’d like them, but someone else can have the head. I just want the claws and incisors. I’ll trade someone the pelt, if they are interested in it,” laying claim to it right away. She had remembered the stories the mountain men told around the campfires on the way here.
“Your bull tore it up pretty bad, but I’ll see what I can do with what’s left,” they answered. Both Erin and Molly were relieved that whoever it was had left the immediate vicinity.
Molly wanted to touch Erin when she saw the breasts revealed under the bindings. They hadn’t been visible too often on this trip, and she knew how much pleasure Erin got from having them touched...but now, was not the time. With the cuts touched up, stitches in several of them, new bindings on her breasts and a couple of the wounds, and a clean shirt, Erin was exhausted from the adrenaline rush and was hurting. “Get these trousers on and come to dinner. We can soak those in cold water and maybe get the blood out of them,” Molly said in a tight voice as she finished and began cleaning up.
“Molly,” Erin said gently, touching her wife’s busy hands. As Molly looked up, she smiled and said, “I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“I’m just glad you are okay. And Tabitha too.” She held back a sob, but they could both hear it in her voice.
Erin took her wife in her arms, ignoring the pain of her body, and just held her until the shuddering sobs subsided. They had both known this trip would be hard, but they hadn’t ever imagined either would come this close to dying on the trip. Things like that happened to other people, not to them. But it had happened to them, and it would have people looking at them again, speculating, and if Erin wasn’t careful, they might discover their secret.
“Better?” Erin asked as Molly looked at her, her eyes filled with tears.
Molly nodded, rubbing the moisture from her eyes. She sniffed hard, and using the rags, she wiped her nose. “What would I have done if...?” she began aloud.
“You’d have gone on,” Erin directed her, still holding her shoulders with each of her hands. “You’d have gone on and done what we planned. You’d have established our farm and done it without me.” She said it so earnestly that Molly believed her.
“I wouldn’t want–”
“I know you wouldn’t, but you’d do it, and I’d want you to do it. Molly,” she waited for wife to look up, “no matter what, we must have that farm. We need to start over and give these children a home. We made promises to them, to us, and I won’t have anything get in the way...not even my death,” she joked weakly and saw a little glimmer in Molly’s eyes. She could appreciate the humor now that the drama had passed.
“I’m glad I won’t have to do it alone,” she murmured quietly. “Now, hurry up and change, and let’s get those children fed.”
Erin smiled, feeling a few scrapes on her jawline that she hadn’t noticed until the skin stretched. She wondered how she looked and wished she could take a bath. She hadn’t had a good bath in what seemed like forever. Other than getting soaking wet at a river crossing or from the rain, she hadn’t been able to wash as thoroughly as she would have liked the entire trip. A fastidious woman, she regretted this but knew it would be dangerous with everyone around.
Erin was the subject of many people’s gossip that night around the campfires. Wallace and a few of the trappers came around to make sure she was okay, complimenting her on her shooting.
“You could have shot that there baar a few more times, and he would have soaked it up,” one of the trappers assured her.
Another presented her with the bloody paws of the bear as well as the incisor teeth. The other people who had shot into the bear divvied up the rest of the teeth. Already, the meat had been parceled out.
“You aren’t going to keep those?” Molly asked, horrified at the bloody souvenirs.
“Well, not exactly like this, but yes,” Erin admitted.
The grizzly bear, an enormous specimen of bearhood, had left a good-sized pelt. The front of it, the belly area, had been shot at and severely lacerated by the bull horns, but the back, the plush part, was fine. It was skinned out and drying across the top of their wagon.
“I’ll trade that with ya, if you’ve a mind to,” one of the trappers told her. But for now, she wanted it as a reminder of how precarious life could be.
Erin brought Billy closer to the fire, using a lantern to inspect his many cuts. They were deep, but she dabbed goose grease on them to keep out the flies and help them heal. She didn’t think he’d stand for sewing, but she petted him and complimented him on his fight. People stared in awe at the big bull allowing Erin to handle him like a dog. He sighed blissfully as she rubbed under his chin.
Erin spent several nights around the fire to remove the bear’s long claws. She took both the claws and teeth, and she put them in a jar with a little baking soda and other ingredients one of the trappers recommended would bleach them. It would also remove any remaining flesh and blood. She then spent several nights drilling holes and stringing them on a necklace that looked very impressive when she was finished. She didn’t wear it, but several people tried to trade for it.
Erin had a hard time riding over the next several days. She had to take time out to ride in the wagon with Tabitha. Both were resting as per Molly’s edict. Theo rode the mare alone, much to his delight, and he kept the flock up with the wagon train. They had to rely on others to keep their cattle in the herd. People were cautious of Billy after seeing how viciously he had attacked the grizzly. It had provided lots of fresh conversations for the people, who were running out after months of traveling together.