Coal Black (Book 5)

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Visitors Arrive

When Ethan finished securing the meat in a rolled-up tarp. There was a chunk of bear meat that he left out. He cut a small piece, skewered it on a stick, and stuck in the fire to sizzle. He was starving as he dug in the larder box for something to quiet his stomach.

"Trapper, we come in peace."

Ethan jumped to his feet and grabbed his rifle. He stepped out of the camp, walked out to the shoreline, and looked in the direction of the voice. In the moonlight, he saw silhouettes of two horses and riders.

"Welcome," shouted Ethan. "You got timber wolves on the south side of the river."

The men led their horses to the opposite side of the river and walked past the large carcasses.

"We smelled your fire, and we're hoping to share your camp," said Dauber, dismounting. "Names Joe and this is Victor."

"Welcome, gentlemen. Ethan Taylor," said the young man as he reached out to shake their hands.

They looked at each other in total surprise at the chance meeting with the woodcarver. When they dismounted, they looked around at the impressive camp, and the hides rolled near the dry wood pile. They saw the five horses tethered near the camp. Inside, the men knew that Carl Jensen was speaking the truth. Mr. Taylor had gotten his horses' back and then some.

"You've been busy," said Nunez as he smiled at the woodcarver.

"The night's not over, I'm afraid, and those wolf hides are worth a bounty. But right now, I'm too tired to kill and skin another one unless I am forced to. Take care of your horses and join me."

Ethan removed a chunk of bear meat from the sack and set it on the larder box. He cut several small pieces of the bear roast and made two more stick skewers for the meat. He turned his bear meat and set it back from the flames. After propping the sticks with meat on the rocks, the sizzle of the meat filled the air. He fed the fire as the men carried their saddles and gear into camp. They laid down their saddle blankets and bedrolls near the fire.

Then Dauber stepped over to the deceased man lying by the supplies on the east side of the enclosure. He lifted the blanket and looked at the old trapper. Ethan had folded his arms across his chest, but Dauber saw the blood-soaked shirt and the exposed wound on the torn shoulder.

"Victor, do you recognize this man?" asked his partner.

Nunez stepped around the camp, looking in all directions before he knelt next to the dead body. He pulled the blanket back, and his eyes searched the face for familiarity. Then he searched the man and pulled back the bottom of his leather shirt and saw the hand-embroidered letter "T" and looked back at the man and he knew it had to be.

"This here is John Bartholomew, better known as 'Trapper'," said Nunez. "I met him once at a summer rendezvous in Pinedale. Oh, man."

His voice caught in his throat, wishing the old man didn't have to die like this. He should have passed away surrounded by friends and telling stories around the campfire.

"Godspeed Trapper."

The marshal stood up, covered the man with the blanket and stared out into the dark with his back to the men. The sheriff knew to leave his partner alone with his thoughts. It had been a long few days. Emotions can get the best of anyone when they are tired.

Dauber joined Ethan, who was tending the fire. He sat on his saddle blanket near the fire. The sheriff reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a jar of pickles.