mentor.
“Got you a bright young man there, missus. Ready to learn an’ easy to teach. Give me a season or two, could make a decent mountain man outten him.’’
Maggie’s response was quick. “Consider yourself welcome to stop by and continue the lessons anytime you’re in Oregon, Mr. Bridger.’’
He chuckled. “Smart lady to get your hooks in first. Just like a few mama grizzlies I been up against.’’ He dismounted himself. “Time to start in crackin’ them buffalo bones. Had a little treat of warm buffalo brains out by the kill, but it hardly whetted my appetite. Got a yen for some `trapper’s butter’, an’ I’ll make you some soup like you never yet et. Got your fires up, Missus?’’
Maggie couldn’t help but smile as she led Bridger to her camp. The years of wilderness had not blunted the old man’s innate sense of humor. And Johnny’s reputation would be soaring again now that Bridger had chosen their fire at which to sup. She took a minute to wake Jamie from his sleep. The boy should not miss the doings. It would be a story he could tell his own children: the night he ate supper with Jim Bridger.
Maggie watched carefully as the trapper flagellated buffalo bones with his hatchet, then scooped out the marrow within. He kept a bit aside for his `butter’, but tossed the rest, over a pound, into a gallon of water he’d instructed her to heat almost to boiling over the fire. While the hump~the most tender part of the buffalo~was being broiled next to it, Bridger carefully added to the pot blood he’d saved from the cavity of the animal. Finally he tossed in quantities of salt and black pepper. Soon it was the consistency of a rice soup and pronounced ready to eat. Tin cups were passed around and everyone tasted of the strangely rich concoction.
Bridger sighed as he slurped. “Best to throw some ribs up against the fire, and sling a hunk of brisket into that cauldron when the soup’s gone. I’ll insure you we’ll eat till the day peeps forth. We be carnivorous animals. The marrow and fatness and lifeblood of this wholesome beast be good for us.’’ He grinned. “Ain’t nothing like the buffalo to make your face shine with grease and gladness.’’
Maggie started with wonder at his words, but obliged him. Soon the soup was gone and they’d moved on to the hump. The diners were, indeed, greasy and full and happy. Jamie had stared in silent awe, eaten his fill, and fallen asleep. Johnny took the boy back to his bed, returning to his seat between Maggie and Sam, ready to fasten his attention back on Bridger. The old trapper had harkened back to California again.
“Now, be you good and wary up ahead near the South Pass. Won’t be no Injuns lyin’ in wait, but be some humans of more devious ways. I met up with them and their group comin’ up past the Sierras. Straight by the Humbolt River they come, the salt desert an’ all. It be some of the meanest, ghastliest, god-forsakenest country you ever seen or imagined.’’
Bridger slowly caught all their faces around the fire, making sure he had their full attention. “Name of Hastings and Hudspeth, these types, and they’re set on talkin’ decent folks like you offen’ the Oregon Trail onto their own cut-off down to California. They’re all het up to get more Americans into their country so’s they can slice it off from Mexico.’’
“They’d be hard put to talk us out of our objective at this point,’’ commented Johnny.
Bridger gave him a look. “Ain’t as easy as all that, son. You come a fair piece so far, but it don’t hold a candle to the mean country up ahead. Time you gets to South Pass you be thinkin’, `anythin’s better than more of this’. That’s when Hastings and Company pop up, like, an’ start a whisperin’ in your ear ‘bout their own brand of promised land. Talkin’ ‘bout how it’ll take a month off the journey, and the country at the end full of milk an’ honey.’’ He licked a finger,
“Got you a bright young man there, missus. Ready to learn an’ easy to teach. Give me a season or two, could make a decent mountain man outten him.’’
Maggie’s response was quick. “Consider yourself welcome to stop by and continue the lessons anytime you’re in Oregon, Mr. Bridger.’’
He chuckled. “Smart lady to get your hooks in first. Just like a few mama grizzlies I been up against.’’ He dismounted himself. “Time to start in crackin’ them buffalo bones. Had a little treat of warm buffalo brains out by the kill, but it hardly whetted my appetite. Got a yen for some `trapper’s butter’, an’ I’ll make you some soup like you never yet et. Got your fires up, Missus?’’
Maggie couldn’t help but smile as she led Bridger to her camp. The years of wilderness had not blunted the old man’s innate sense of humor. And Johnny’s reputation would be soaring again now that Bridger had chosen their fire at which to sup. She took a minute to wake Jamie from his sleep. The boy should not miss the doings. It would be a story he could tell his own children: the night he ate supper with Jim Bridger.
Maggie watched carefully as the trapper flagellated buffalo bones with his hatchet, then scooped out the marrow within. He kept a bit aside for his `butter’, but tossed the rest, over a pound, into a gallon of water he’d instructed her to heat almost to boiling over the fire. While the hump~the most tender part of the buffalo~was being broiled next to it, Bridger carefully added to the pot blood he’d saved from the cavity of the animal. Finally he tossed in quantities of salt and black pepper. Soon it was the consistency of a rice soup and pronounced ready to eat. Tin cups were passed around and everyone tasted of the strangely rich concoction.
Bridger sighed as he slurped. “Best to throw some ribs up against the fire, and sling a hunk of brisket into that cauldron when the soup’s gone. I’ll insure you we’ll eat till the day peeps forth. We be carnivorous animals. The marrow and fatness and lifeblood of this wholesome beast be good for us.’’ He grinned. “Ain’t nothing like the buffalo to make your face shine with grease and gladness.’’
Maggie started with wonder at his words, but obliged him. Soon the soup was gone and they’d moved on to the hump. The diners were, indeed, greasy and full and happy. Jamie had stared in silent awe, eaten his fill, and fallen asleep. Johnny took the boy back to his bed, returning to his seat between Maggie and Sam, ready to fasten his attention back on Bridger. The old trapper had harkened back to California again.
“Now, be you good and wary up ahead near the South Pass. Won’t be no Injuns lyin’ in wait, but be some humans of more devious ways. I met up with them and their group comin’ up past the Sierras. Straight by the Humbolt River they come, the salt desert an’ all. It be some of the meanest, ghastliest, god-forsakenest country you ever seen or imagined.’’
Bridger slowly caught all their faces around the fire, making sure he had their full attention. “Name of Hastings and Hudspeth, these types, and they’re set on talkin’ decent folks like you offen’ the Oregon Trail onto their own cut-off down to California. They’re all het up to get more Americans into their country so’s they can slice it off from Mexico.’’
“They’d be hard put to talk us out of our objective at this point,’’ commented Johnny.
Bridger gave him a look. “Ain’t as easy as all that, son. You come a fair piece so far, but it don’t hold a candle to the mean country up ahead. Time you gets to South Pass you be thinkin’, `anythin’s better than more of this’. That’s when Hastings and Company pop up, like, an’ start a whisperin’ in your ear ‘bout their own brand of promised land. Talkin’ ‘bout how it’ll take a month off the journey, and the country at the end full of milk an’ honey.’’ He licked a finger,
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