The House of Crow

Chapter 7

LeRue felt like one of the animals he trapped for a living, panicked and ready to gnaw his injured leg off at the knee. Damned packhorse had kicked just as he"d stepped around behind while checking the load. Now, as if nothing had happened, the hammerhead was munching grass with Baron, LeRue"s ride. The pain in LeRue"s right leg made him sweat, and breakfast threatened to see the light of day. His Hawken rifle lay next to him. Picking it up, he used it as a crutch to stand.

“Alright, let"s give it a try.”

Softly, LeRue called out to the horses. They paid him no mind, their big teeth crunching the grass. As he approached, he was fearful Baron would shy away, but he only looked at LeRue and then went back to the grass. LeRue pushed the rifle up and in front of Baron"s saddle, and prayed he wouldn"t shy away. Gripping the saddle, LeRue pulled with his arms and pushed off with his good left leg.

“Don"t stop! Keep going; only one shot at this,” he said to himself. His injured leg caught on the cantle of the saddle. Frantically, he worked at freeing his leg as Baron began sidestepping.

“Whoa, you son-of-a-b***h,” LeRue cried out.

Although his leg was free, there was no mercy; the pain was increased by the swell of the horse"s belly. With both hands on the saddle, he slipped his good foot into the stirrup and straightened himself in the saddle. Grasping the rifle in one hand and the reins in the other he guided Baron towards the packhorse.

“You spook you bastard I"ll kill and eat you,” LeRue threatened.

As if he understood, the packhorse met them halfway. LeRue snagged the lead rope he"d draped over its neck.

“Apology accepted. Maybe I"ll let you live.”

Looking around, LeRue took stock. The mountains of the Yellow Stone stretched toward the blue sky.

"No sign of snow, but that can change. I"ve got to find shelter and take care of this leg," LeRue thought. “Not sure where we are, let"s head down towards those trees; see if we can"t find us a place by the river.”

The ride was painful. The swelling of LeRue"s foot stretched the seams of his moccasin. LeRue came to full alert when the horses jerked their heads up, their ears twitching. Then he heard it too; another horse calling out. "Indians?" LeRue wondered. Then, through the trees, he saw a trapper"s cabin, rough but sturdy; next to it was a small corral. Two horses in the corral were looking towards LeRue. LeRue stayed in the trees, something wasn"t right. Whoever lived here must be gone. There was no smoke from the chimney. Then he saw the door was open, not much, but open.

“Hello the house, we"re friendly, don"t mean ye any harm!”

There was no response. The horses in the corral were moving back and forth along the fence, stopping to look towards LeRue.

LeRue spoke softly to his mount, “Let"s take a look, Baron.”

LeRue found a man and a bear behind the cabin. From the look of it, the bear had come after the horses, or maybe the man had just surprised it, but it was clear there had been a hell of a fight.

“You see that, Baron? He wounded the bear, it headed towards the woods, and he tried to get to the cabin. It musta" happened yesterday, or so. Guess we found ourselves a place to stay.”

His leg sending lightning strikes of pain from foot to knee, LeRue managed to get down from Baron. "Got to get this leg up to take the swelling down," he thought. “Don"t know how I"ll take care of you.,” he said to the dead man. “Sure can"t dig a hole right now.”

LeRue turned toward the cabin door, the pain in his leg making the short trip seem to take forever.

“Well, will you look-a-here,” he said to himself.

There, propped against the wall of the cabin was a hickory staff. LeRue pulled it to him, taking the weight off his injured leg. As he tested his stance with the staff, he heard a noise. Now at full alert, LeRue dropped the staff and c****d the Hawken. Listening, he gauged his chances of making it through the door. Then the sound came again, a scraping sound!

“Qu"est-ce c"est? What"s this?”

His own pain pushed out of the way, LeRue hobbled to the man. He rolled him over. There still clutched in his bloody hand was a knife. The blade had broken, but not until it had killed the bear. The man was heavy. Moving him was pure hell for LeRue with his injured leg.

Nevertheless, he got it done. Later, he sewed the man"s wounds as best he could. LeRue skinned the bear, saving the meat for stew. It was several days later when the injured man came around…