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A Long Winter Ride
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Booshway
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It is late evening and Calario has been pressed up against the steep mountain sides by the Ute warriors paralleling his track. He decides to dump the deer carcasses and turn the pack horse loose in order to be able to move quicker. After making a couple of miles, he sees two Ute outriders dangerously close.

“Madre Dios! Thees is not good,” Calario mutters as he watches the out riders pass his position. Howsomever, Cortez is now cut off from Uncomphagre. It’s going to be a long night having to hole up just two miles from the post.

The Utes were well practiced in this type of attack, where they formed their warriors in a running crescent, surrounding their quarry, and squeezed a tight circle, killing all resistors within. They had used it successfully throughout the San Luis Valley, killing all Mexican adult males they encountered and capturing the women and children. The captives would be traded to the Navaho, Zuni, Hopi, Jicarilla and Paiutes’ as slaves.

The cock crowed twice and was puffing out his plumage to crow for a third time; the sentry on the hillside just south of the post would not hear it, for the two arrows sticking out from his back as he slumped forward made sure of that. As the cock crowed for the third time, and joined the chattering of birds, bleats of the goats, lowing of the cattle and whinnying of horses; a woman’s scream followed by the discharge of a lightly load gun, frantic barking of several dogs, turned all sounds into a bedlam of noise.
Into this cacophony of confusion, Calario rode his horse at a full gallop, shouting at the top of his voice,

“ Indios! Indios están atacando! Madre de Dios nos libre!”

Calario fired his rifle once from the saddle, missed his intended target, lifted the rifle up barrel first and swung it hard against the head of the Ute warrior that was attempting to get his old escopeta to fire. Cortez’s rifle stock broke at the wrist as the warrior fell, his skull crushed.

Four Ute warriors suddenly charged out into Calario’s path and tried to snatch the reins from his hands. Spinning his horse and swinging the broken rifle wildly, he was able to escape, leaving two warriors holding their injured heads. Then seeing a small herd of cattle bounding away, Calario urged his horse to join the runaway beasts. He slid to the right side of his saddle to make it appear that the horse was running away empty saddled and gained his getaway.

Alonzo rushed to his cabin door, took quick aim with his rifle and fired, a Ute warrior collapsing down the front steps of the bunkhouse. Quickly pulling a pistol from his sash, he was about to fire again when an arrow penetrated his neck. Dropping the pistol, his hand clutched the arrow even as he fell forward off the veranda. With eyes wide expressing disbelief, a choking sound, followed by a gush of blood from his mouth, Alonzo Baca died. The Ute warrior grasped Baca’s slick black hair and made a sweeping quick cut with his knife. Standing and holding high his trophy the Ute warrior let out an exultant cry like the many being heard throughout the compound.

Josiah had been awaken by Molly’s alarm actions, and without a missed movement grabbed Fetchemunder, rolled behind several logs already in place before his leanto and watched for a target to appear. He shook his head several times to clear the sleep from his mind, trying to make sense of the sounds coming from the post and surroundings.

The sound of gunfire ended abruptly followed by the loud whoops of the Utes. The crying and screams of the women and children could be heard in the near distance. And still no attackers approached Josiah’s position.

Josiah had that squamshus feeling again as he lay in his redoubt awaiting for what may come.


The forest is a wilderness only to those that fear it, silent only to those that hear nothing. The forest is a friend to those that dwell within its' nature and it is filled with the sounds of life to those that listen.
 
Posts: 532 | Location: Bitterroot Valley | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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I sure hope Josiah gets outta this mess. Gonna sure take some luck from here.

And I sure hope I can read about the continuing adventure. I know it'll have to end somewhere, but I hope not for a while anyhow.

So Crossfox, are you registered on the American Longhunter web site? Will you be continuing the saga there? I have made copies of each page you have so far and would like to finish the story. Makes for good reading at the end of a hard day in the city.

Hope to see you on the other side my friend. Not much time left here.

L8R...Ken
 
Posts: 403 | Location: In the Hardwoods of Eastern Iowa | Registered: 15 November 2005Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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a good sir. I imagine you have this all strung together in book form?


Wild as the wind
 
Posts: 404 | Location: Hittin the road | Registered: 10 October 2007Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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quote:
Originally posted by coonmedicinetrapper:
a good sir. I imagine you have this all strung together in book form?


Not bound yet. I hoping for more of the story. Josiah is still ina heap O trouble and I want to see him escape and continue on with his travels...albeit alone now. But isn't that the life of a Mountain Man...alone most of the time, except for yer horse and dear Mother Nature. That's why is it alway such good time to happen upon a comrade fellow Mountain Man onct in a while.

It'll be bound in due time. My own copy don't you see. So I can curl up by a fire in a couple years and revisit Josiah and his adventures.

L8R...Ken
 
Posts: 403 | Location: In the Hardwoods of Eastern Iowa | Registered: 15 November 2005Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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I'd buy it if published. And yes true mountain man- animals and loneliness. Kind of my life at times I've spent more constant time in the 3 years I've had my dog with just him than with any human I know. Dogs can't and wouldn't talk behind your back or do you get sick of them after a few days this list could continue for days. God I love animals, how often they've influenced poetry and creation for this lonely lad


Wild as the wind
 
Posts: 404 | Location: Hittin the road | Registered: 10 October 2007Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Factor
Picture of volatpluvia
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Coon,
It's a shame a young woman wouldn't wan to marry you and travel with you.
León


pistuo deo lalo
 
Posts: 3714 | Location: Acatlan de Juarez, Jalisco, Mexico | Registered: 22 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Greenhorn
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Really glad to see Josiah still has his hair if only for the moment. Needs a good dog to watch is 6:00!
 
Posts: 29 | Location: Derby Kansas | Registered: 30 March 2012Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Factor
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Women aren't wanderers,they're settlers.


Beer is proof that God loves us,and wants us to be happy-B. Franklin
 
Posts: 2014 | Location: Oreegun Territory | Registered: 24 March 2013Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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There's lots of wandering women. I've met a few while out on the road. I don't want to marry any, that is just a way for big brother to keep a tighter eye, but would surely enjoy the company besides my dog while on the tramp and to keep my bag warm. mwhahah


Wild as the wind
 
Posts: 404 | Location: Hittin the road | Registered: 10 October 2007Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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Hiya Fellas!!

The Big News is that we have sold our home in Alaska and are moving to the Bitterroot Valley. So please bear with me a little longer on the story continuation as I have been busier than I really have wanted to be.

The next chapter will come to you from the Lewis & Clark Trail Country!

Regards, xfox


The forest is a wilderness only to those that fear it, silent only to those that hear nothing. The forest is a friend to those that dwell within its' nature and it is filled with the sounds of life to those that listen.
 
Posts: 532 | Location: Bitterroot Valley | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
Picture of Walkingeagle
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Congrats Xfox, that is good news indeed.
Walk
 
Posts: 342 | Location: Alberta, Canada | Registered: 15 January 2005Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Factor
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Grats,Xfox,welcome back to the 'States.


Beer is proof that God loves us,and wants us to be happy-B. Franklin
 
Posts: 2014 | Location: Oreegun Territory | Registered: 24 March 2013Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Factor
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Way to go ol' hat! I'm sure you have a new home in sight that'll ease your ol' bones, fill your meat cache, and tickle you with happiness. I know them hosses o' your'n will be happy to see grass longer!

Tickledpink'Sticks


As long as there's Limb Bacon a man'll eat! (But mebbe not his wife...)
 
Posts: 4816 | Location: Buffalo River Country | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Greenhorn
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Crossfox has Josiah gone under? He's been hiding behind that redoubt for sometime now. Hope he's had a chance to relieve himself. I've been away for awhile(released for good behavior)and was hoping old Josiah had gotten out of his fix by now.
 
Posts: 29 | Location: Derby Kansas | Registered: 30 March 2012Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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Hiya fellas!

It has been awhile for sure since I've had time to write, lots of outline to the story has been done, just not the filler yet.

Wolfwoman took a look at the number of reads and made the comment that the twenty or so "regulars" at the Campfire must not have much to do as they seem to have read the story nearly 9700 times!!

Thanks fellas for your continuing interest in the story and I'll keep posting segments as often as I can.

We have settle in fairly well here in the Bitterroot. Managed to ride our horses more here, than we did the last 3 years in Alaska.

November 5th we attended the Stevensville Founders Day. Fitzpatrick had guided Father DeSmet up the Green River in June 1841, where DeSmet performed the first recorded Mass west of the Continental Divide near present day Pinedale, Wyoming. They continued to travel north, eventually entering the Bitterroot Valley, where the Salish lived. The Salish had sent representatives at least four times to St. Louis asking for a Blackrobe to come to the Bitterroot. Finally, Father DeSmet was sent. His entourage settled on a flat area about 2 miles east of the Bitterroot River and here Father DeSmet founded St. Mary's Mission, which still stands. Later, as the year round residents increased in number, the town Was renamed Stevensville. So, this is the tie in to my story.

Regards, xfox

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Crossfox,


The forest is a wilderness only to those that fear it, silent only to those that hear nothing. The forest is a friend to those that dwell within its' nature and it is filled with the sounds of life to those that listen.
 
Posts: 532 | Location: Bitterroot Valley | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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After awhile the crying of the women and children faded as they were marched off toward the southwest. Hours had gone by as Josiah stayed hunkered down in the redoubt, more than enough time for a spider to complete its web just inches from his eyes, without a single shot of galena or arrow fired in his direction.

Several hours after escaping from Fort Uncomphagre, Calario’s horse stumbled, caught itself, made a few more awkward, jerky steps, favoring its left foreleg before it came to a halt, refusing to move further. Calario eased from the saddle and moving down the horses’ leg with a practiced hand found that a tendon had severely bowed.

“Madre dios!” Cortez spat and muttered, “This is not good, not at all.” He watched the backtrail for any movement as he thought out the situation, only one conclusion presenting itself. He was going to have to walk.

He removed the saddle and bridle from the horse, hid them between two large rocks, placing brush over and around them for concealment. Then he looked about to for landmarks so that he might return to fetch the saddle should he be lucky enough to survive, on foot, the trek that was before him. The horse was on its’ own and would most likely not survive for long. Wiping sweat from his eyes and repositioning the bandana around his forehead, Calario grimaced, made the sign of the cross for a blessing and took the first step of many to the southeast..

It is a long way to Taos.

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Crossfox,


The forest is a wilderness only to those that fear it, silent only to those that hear nothing. The forest is a friend to those that dwell within its' nature and it is filled with the sounds of life to those that listen.
 
Posts: 532 | Location: Bitterroot Valley | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Greenhorn
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Will the story ever continue?
 
Posts: 29 | Location: Derby Kansas | Registered: 30 March 2012Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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“ ’Mericano, ‘mericano, habla espanol?” the call came from a large cottonwood near the fence line of the post.

Josiah pondered a few moments before answering, “Si, habla poquito.”

“Bueno, bueno ‘mericano! No harm to you, amigo. Let us meet in the open and speak.“

The speaker is called Spotted Tail and is the leader of the raiding party. And the warrior accompanying him is Men Afraid, the same warrior that Josiah had watch stop in the middle of the river crossing. He is a Spirit Warrior of the Medicine Wolf Clan known for their visions and fierce demeanor.

Josiah warily eases up from behind the log redoubt, Fetchumunder at the ready, as he watches the two Ute warriors approach the open. He notes that they are unarmed and loose in their walk, a good sign. Stepping over the log in front of him, Josiah leans Fetchumunder against it, and slowly moves toward the warriors.

The two warriors halt in the middle of the grassy glade, look toward the mountain peaks to the north across the Grand River and watch as a hawk glides on unseen air currents. Josiah keeps his eyes on the Utes and stops about ten feet away. Spotted Tail nods to Josiah and motions for them all to sit on the grass.

Speaking in Spanish, Spotted Tail introduces himself and Men Afraid to Josiah, “Hola, amigo, I am known as Spotted Tail and my friend is known as Men Afraid. How are you known?”

“I am known as Josiah, Wakinu to the Shoshoni and ol’Buck to the mountain men.”
“It is good to meet you Wakinu.” Spotted Tail responds.

“Our spirits have met before at the river crossing” Men Afraid adds.

“Hmm, yes, our spirits felt each other that morning in the fog. How is it you are known as Men Afraid?”

Both warriors look at each other with a slight smile as Men Afraid replies, “I am called Men Afraid of His Horse. You understand the red and black hand signs on my war horse?”

“Ah, yes, it is clear now; you and your horse has run down many enemy in battle,” Josiah replies. And with a questioning expression asks Spotted Tail, “How is it that you come to this place where you have traded and kill the men of the post?”

Spotted Tail looks on with a sour face as he forms his reply, “These Mexicanos of Robidoux has cheated us far to long and we grew tired of our protests not being heard. Now Robidoux will have to listen or we will kill more of his dishonest Mexicanos.”

“I understand the killing of the ones that cheat you in trade, but of the others that do honest work I do not understand,” said Josiah.

“We have had bad dealings with many Mexicanos. Some are honest, others not so; it is hard at times of hot blood to sort them. It is easier to just eliminate them all.”

“What of the trade goods, the buildings, and the women and children?” Josiah asks.

“No trade goods are to be taken and no buildings burned. The women and children are to be traded to the Jicarilla and Navaho as slaves; just as we were once traded to the Mexicanos long ago.” Spotted Tail continues, “This is the message you are to take to Robidoux at Taos; that he should come to Uncomphagre and see for himself that we speak the truth.”

“Hmm, that is a big request for you to place upon a stranger in this country.”

“You are ‘mericano, so Robidoux will know that the message you take to him is true. You are to travel with us for a few days and then you will be shown the way to the Rio Del Norte so that you may find Taos. Now pack your goods and travel down river with us, for this place will be full of bad odors soon from the bodies we leave in the compound.”

“Walna, you put it that way, I will travel with you away from this odorous place.” Josiah replies.

“Buenos, amigo!”

“De nada,” Josiah replies. It is with a puzzlement rolling through his mind as he walks back to his camp to pack up.

It’s a long ride to Taos.


The forest is a wilderness only to those that fear it, silent only to those that hear nothing. The forest is a friend to those that dwell within its' nature and it is filled with the sounds of life to those that listen.
 
Posts: 532 | Location: Bitterroot Valley | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Greenhorn
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Thank you Crossfox. Hope your camp is settled now and ready for the winter.
 
Posts: 29 | Location: Derby Kansas | Registered: 30 March 2012Reply With QuoteReport This Post
Booshway
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It has been four days since his horse had been abandoned; the walking had been awkward at first for a horseman such as Calario. Howsomever, he was glad to have his hard soled high topped Apache boot moccasins and botas in this rugged country. His first three nights had been spent without the benefit of a fire in his caution not to attract unwanted attention. It had been a wise decision as Calario had seen Ute scouts moving along the Old Spanish Trail at different times, obviously looking for any sign of escaped victims of the raid.

The Old Spanish Trail ran from Santa Fe northward along the Rio Del Norte to Taos and then up the San Luis Valley to the Grand River, here, following the river, it turned to the southwest, crossing the Rio Colorado and then west, eventually ending in San Diego. It is a well established trading and transportation corridor used for over a hundred years since the Spanish explorers and Padres from the Catholic Church had built missions widely spaced along its route.

The growl of his belly told him that it was not getting enough nourishment from the meager pieces of old jerky he had stored in his possible sack, and had sparingly chewed twice a day since on the run from Fort Uncomphagre. He would need to hunt for a more substantial meal soon. With that in mind, Calario cut several willow wands about a foot long and the diameter of his thumbs. He sharpened points on all eight ends, and then cut a shallow notch in the center of two of the sticks, laying the un-notched sticks over the notched ones. Using some rawhide strips that he had soaked in the water of a rivulet to soften, he formed a centered cross of the wands and tied them with the rawhide. After an hour of sitting in the hot sun to dry, the rawhide bound the sticks securely together forming an equal sided cross. Now he had two throwing crosses for hunting small animals for food.

That afternoon, Calario was able to killed two jack rabbits with his throwing crosses. He was somewhat disgusted that he had missed several earlier in the day, but the thought of fresh meat, even if it was scrawny long ears, laid that feeling quickly to rest. After finding a suitable depression to hide the glow of small fire for a night camp, he gathered some bone dry willow sticks and pine branches. The lower, very hard and dry, dead branches of pine would make a smokeless fire in the early evening light. Building his fire with just enough wood to slowly cook the rabbit carcasses; Calario set up two spits over the flames, savoring the cooking smells.

Looking at the broken remains of his rifle, he determines that he can at least make it serviceable with some crude repairs. The butt stock is broken away just behind the rear trigger guard screw with a couple of cracks running forward toward the rear of the lock plate. Using his knife and a piece of sandstone to shape the ragged stump of the wrist, Calario wraps it with dampened rawhide strips. He figures that it will hold with firing the rifle if he uses a reduced powder charge. Although it will be awkward to aim using it as a long barreled pistol, at least that way he can defend himself and even kill a deer if given the chance. Just have to be careful that any shot doesn’t alert Ute ears.

While eating, Calario muses on how far his is from Taos. His best determination is that he is ten to twelve days out, barring any delays. He will have to put forth the effort to travel longer each day.

For the first time since the raid, Calario had a full belly and sleep came easy as darkness settled in the mountains.


The forest is a wilderness only to those that fear it, silent only to those that hear nothing. The forest is a friend to those that dwell within its' nature and it is filled with the sounds of life to those that listen.
 
Posts: 532 | Location: Bitterroot Valley | Registered: 23 October 2004Reply With QuoteReport This Post
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