happen—not here in the wilderness. She needed to find the nearest fort, but had no idea where it would be, for as much as she hated to admit it, she truly was lost.
Perhaps I should get the livestock ready and ride, trusting God to show me the way
.
Despite her wooziness, Amanda made her way over to the place where she had staked out the horses and mules. She freed Jasper first, and then Jake, tying their rope to the saddle of her horse, Betsy. She’d just untied Papa’s horse, when something spooked him. The horse’s nostrils flared as he whinnied and reared up, flipping his head from side to side as he pawed the air.
Amanda screamed as the horse’s hoof came straight for her.
Buck McFadden rode his buckskin, Dusty, slowly through the pines, stopping to check each of his trap lines. Some were near streams where beaver were still plentiful, and other traps he’d set deeper in the forest. Trapping had been in Buck’s blood since he’d met his friend Jim Breck, and he knew from experience that the traps should be approached cautiously until he’d identified what animal was caught. He’d learned some time ago to be keenly alert to his surroundings, for in the wilderness, it took only seconds to change one’s life forever. If not careful, a bobcat, a lynx, or even a wolverine might give a nasty bite when approached in a trap—a bite that could cause infection or eventually death. Despite all of those dangers, Buck loved these mountains. Their jagged peaks were a part of his soul. He was an adventurer, roaming the trails, rivers, and valleys that he respected so deeply.
The Rockies had been Buck’s home since he was twelve years old, and it wasn’t until two years later that he’d crossed paths with Jim, his only real friend. Buck had no family—not since he and his mother had been separated. He had dreams of finding her one day, but from what he’d been told, she was dead.
All these years, whether hunting, fishing, trapping, or relaxing on the front porch of Jim’s cabin, Buck had found joy living in this wilderness. Jim had taught him everything he knew about trapping and hunting. Now Buck’s skills rewarded him with abundant furs for trading whenever the two of them went to Rendezvous or visited one of the mountain forts to replenish the supplies they needed.
As Buck rode silently on, a hawk followed overhead, never leaving Buck out of his sight. “Enjoy the air, my winged brother,” Buck whispered, watching as the hawk circled high above. He knew the awesome bird, flying close to the clouds, must feel the same freedom Buck did swaying in the saddle to his horse’s rhythm on these familiar mountain paths.
The hawk, a beautiful creature, was just a ball of fluff when Buck had first found him a few years back. He and Jim had been checking traps when they’d come upon the half-dead hatchling. After unsuccessfully checking the surrounding trees for a nest it may have fallen from, Buck decided to care for the hawk, hoping to save its life. After that, the winged creature grew stronger, depending on Buck for food. As time went on and the hawk grew, Buck taught it to fend for itself. Now, this noble bird of prey was as skillful as other hawks, even though it had been raised by a man.
The uniformly colored tail of the hawk—reddish above, light pink beneath—and the dark bell band made the bird unique. Red-tailed hawks preyed on rabbits and rodents, so it brought Buck joy to watch his winged brother swoop down and catch a small rabbit with ease.
When fully grown, Buck’s hawk had adapted to its natural instincts and could leave anytime it liked. Buck had no constraints on the bird, but it had decided to stay nearby. All Buck had to do was whistle, and the hawk, calling to him with a high trill, would swoop down and land gently on his outstretched arm, just as it had done during its younger years.
Bringing his mind back to the present, Buck dismounted and checked the last of his traps. As he was
Perhaps I should get the livestock ready and ride, trusting God to show me the way
.
Despite her wooziness, Amanda made her way over to the place where she had staked out the horses and mules. She freed Jasper first, and then Jake, tying their rope to the saddle of her horse, Betsy. She’d just untied Papa’s horse, when something spooked him. The horse’s nostrils flared as he whinnied and reared up, flipping his head from side to side as he pawed the air.
Amanda screamed as the horse’s hoof came straight for her.
Buck McFadden rode his buckskin, Dusty, slowly through the pines, stopping to check each of his trap lines. Some were near streams where beaver were still plentiful, and other traps he’d set deeper in the forest. Trapping had been in Buck’s blood since he’d met his friend Jim Breck, and he knew from experience that the traps should be approached cautiously until he’d identified what animal was caught. He’d learned some time ago to be keenly alert to his surroundings, for in the wilderness, it took only seconds to change one’s life forever. If not careful, a bobcat, a lynx, or even a wolverine might give a nasty bite when approached in a trap—a bite that could cause infection or eventually death. Despite all of those dangers, Buck loved these mountains. Their jagged peaks were a part of his soul. He was an adventurer, roaming the trails, rivers, and valleys that he respected so deeply.
The Rockies had been Buck’s home since he was twelve years old, and it wasn’t until two years later that he’d crossed paths with Jim, his only real friend. Buck had no family—not since he and his mother had been separated. He had dreams of finding her one day, but from what he’d been told, she was dead.
All these years, whether hunting, fishing, trapping, or relaxing on the front porch of Jim’s cabin, Buck had found joy living in this wilderness. Jim had taught him everything he knew about trapping and hunting. Now Buck’s skills rewarded him with abundant furs for trading whenever the two of them went to Rendezvous or visited one of the mountain forts to replenish the supplies they needed.
As Buck rode silently on, a hawk followed overhead, never leaving Buck out of his sight. “Enjoy the air, my winged brother,” Buck whispered, watching as the hawk circled high above. He knew the awesome bird, flying close to the clouds, must feel the same freedom Buck did swaying in the saddle to his horse’s rhythm on these familiar mountain paths.
The hawk, a beautiful creature, was just a ball of fluff when Buck had first found him a few years back. He and Jim had been checking traps when they’d come upon the half-dead hatchling. After unsuccessfully checking the surrounding trees for a nest it may have fallen from, Buck decided to care for the hawk, hoping to save its life. After that, the winged creature grew stronger, depending on Buck for food. As time went on and the hawk grew, Buck taught it to fend for itself. Now, this noble bird of prey was as skillful as other hawks, even though it had been raised by a man.
The uniformly colored tail of the hawk—reddish above, light pink beneath—and the dark bell band made the bird unique. Red-tailed hawks preyed on rabbits and rodents, so it brought Buck joy to watch his winged brother swoop down and catch a small rabbit with ease.
When fully grown, Buck’s hawk had adapted to its natural instincts and could leave anytime it liked. Buck had no constraints on the bird, but it had decided to stay nearby. All Buck had to do was whistle, and the hawk, calling to him with a high trill, would swoop down and land gently on his outstretched arm, just as it had done during its younger years.
Bringing his mind back to the present, Buck dismounted and checked the last of his traps. As he was
Similar Books
