Fair Land, Fair Land by A. B. Guthrie Jr. Read Free Book Online

likely. This ain't huntin' country. Too
damn much growth. I can't hardly keep you in sight after you make a
turn."
    " Don't worry your head. We made out so far."
    " That deer meat had a taint to it that don't
rest easy in my belly."
    " I'll find us an elk, I'm thinkin'. This is
their kind of country."
    " If you can see to aim."
    In bed Summers heard the hoarse howls of wolves and
the quavering cries of coyotes. He had to put his mind to it to hear
them. They let loose every night and again just before sunup, and a
man took them as natural as the sound of wind in the trees or of
running water and didn't pay any heed, not unless he listened
particular.
    He wondered why they gave voice. Take a dog, now, and
you could find reasons, like the barks were warnings or dares or came
out of fear. But wolves? Coyotes? Did they cry out from hunger? From
what was bred in them? For no reason that a man could put a name to?
One thing for sure. They sounded lonely, like as if on lost trails.
    He fell asleep to their howls and quavers.
    The horses neighed shrilly. Hooves sounded and the
breaking of brush. Feather's bell rang out wild.
    Summers rolled from bed and grabbed his Hawken. As he
moved out he felt rather than saw Higgins behind him. He moved by
starshine. He squinted against the dark curtain of trees. There was a
flowing movement like water in shadow, black sliding through black,
and he fired, and a high scream chased the crack of the shot, chased
other sounds into silence. He went on.
    There, dying, lay a panther, shot through the chest.
A star caught a golden gleam from the fur. The panther managed a
snarl before its head fell.
    " Cat country," Summers said as Higgins
moved to his side.
    " Likely clawed one of the horses. Got to see."
    They found Feather after a hunt. The other horses
were close by. Feather's hams had deep slashes in them.
    " Damn hobbles," Summers said. "They
slowed him down. They was to blame."
    " Not to mention the cat," Higgins said.
    " Anyhow, the horses are glad for our company. No
more hobbles. After this they won't range far."
    " Meantime, what do we put on them gashes?"
    " Grease. Meat grease. Got any?"
    " We ain't scoured the kettle yet."
    " That'll do. Keep off the flies, come a warm
spell. I don't look for poison to set in, not here in the mountains."
    They doctored Feather as well as they could in the
dark. One thing for sure, he had learned not to stray far from camp.
    " Tomorrow," Summers told Higgins, "we'll
have a go at painter meat."
    " I hope Cod and my maw don't look on."
    They went back to their bedrolls. Half-drowsing,
Summers heard Higgins say, "And I thought I could shoot!"
    9
    THEY WERE NEARING the crest, so Summers told Higgins.
"Another day or so," he had said, "and we ought to be
hoof"in' it down to the Bitter Root valley."
    Higgins hoped so. He was tired of forests, tired of
the trees that closed them in and even tireder of mountains. As they
plodded along, his mind went to tracing the country they had come
through. There was Oregon and the high trees and rain and moss and
ferns and fronds where a horse went fetlock deep in the mold. There
was the long plateau yon side of the Snake and wind that choked a
man's breath in his lungs. And there was this long climb up the
Clearwater and the damn forests again and a trail that turned tricky.
How long had they been traveling? How far had they come? He asked
Summers, and Summers answered, "Sleeps or miles?"
    " I can figure the sleeps out for myself. Make it
miles."
    " I dunno. Three hundred plus, maybe. Maybe more.
I ain't so much on miles. I go by country and seasons. Anyhow, we
been makin' good time."
    More than three hundred miles, and now it began to
snow. There was wind with it, and the cold numbed fingers and feet,
no matter the covering, and then it struck at the bones. The snow
whirled and played with the trail, more often hiding it than letting
it show, and Summers pulled up his horse and shouted back, "Time
to hole up, I'm