EMBERS

I am in the winter o’ my life and I knows it.  

My bones knows it, too. And, sometimes, as I sit and stare into the fire, I imagine I can see ‘em: the faces o’ those few folk that have shared this mountain with me. All o’ them, beckoning to me, reaching out. But I ain’t quite ready to reach back. Not just yet. But that time is coming, I knows.

And who’d you think is front and foremost calling to me from those flames? Why that hornery injun that caused us so much grief in our early years. We never knew his true name but we called him Ol’ Hog Face, on account o’ his big nose and his never ending attempts to steal from us. He was from the Apsaalooke tribe, part o’the Crow nation. Bob…that’s my brother…and me, we done chased that injun off more times than I can recall. 

He was a big ol’ boy, Ol’ Hog Face. One time, he jumped me when I were out hunting and we had a real ol’ tussle. Strong as an ox. But I knew a few ol’ wrestling tricks and I was no pushover. What? Well, I’d guess you could call it a tie. We was both too exhausted to carry on and just kinda went our separate ways but I’d say he had a bit more respect for me after that. Leastways, I’d like to think so.  

Hah! This one’ll make you laugh. Not long after we’d finished and moved into this cabin, we damned near suffocated with smoke blowing down our chimney and filling this here room. We rushed outside and, what d’ya know? There was Ol’ Hog Face up on the roof, his head and shoulders stuck in the chimney. We had to climb up and pull him out. Boy, you shoulda seen his face. Black as soot. His big, white, buck teeth, too. He almost choked to death. He slid down into the snow and ran off, tripping and falling all the way, leaving a trail o’ black after him. 

We two laughed so much, I thought my sides would split. We was still laughing for weeks afterwards. I’d ask Bob if he’d spotted any Black Feet injuns when out hunting and he’d reply: no but I think I caught a glimpse of a Black Face injun. That’s funny ain’t it? What? No, mister, I do not talk to myself. Why’d you ask that, anyway? 

See, that’s the thing with pine. Same with all them kinda trees that grow hereabouts. They smell real sweet when they burn but they gives off the blackest smoke. To this day, I don’t know what that fella thought he was doing, sticking his big ol’ head down our chimney. Anyhows, what d’ya think of him being the face that’s front of all the others in the flames o’ that there fire? Crazy ain’t it?

That injun was a real pain for many a year. Then, one winter, Bob found out that Ol’ Hog Face was ill. I can’t rightly remember how. He was like us, just him and his family, settled in their teepees, higher up, closer to the top o' yonder hill. They relied on that fella for food and I guess he weren’t that great at hunting otherwise he wouldn’t have come a stealing from us so often. Anyhows, we felt kinda bad so’s we took some grain, some caribou, some turnips and such; couple o’ sack loads. We just dropped ‘em in the snow near their settlement, didn’t intrude none. But I guess that was like a peace treaty o’ sorts because he never bothered us no more after that, even when he was recovered.

If’n I repeat myself, give me a nudge, boy. I tend to do that a lot. Sometimes, I lose my train o’ thought in the middle of a sentence, too. I guess that’s what comes o’ living alone for so long. But that don’t mean I talk to myself, you hear?

Bob? Well, he was my younger brother. Joined me up here ‘bout a year after I decided to leave Helena, back in ’76. I could see the way it was growing, that town, and I didn’t like it one bit. Didn’t take a shine to the kind o stranger drifting in. Came up here, just me and my mule and Pinto, my dog. Lived in a tent ’til Bob decided to join me and we built this here cabin. Don’t rightly know how I survived, tell the truth, but, from the winters since, I can tell, now, that that first winter must have been the mildest ever. I was a darn fool. Lucky, I guess. Didn’t know no better.  

Anyhows, Bob joined me, long as I promised that we’d build a house. Took us eight months, all in. Ain’t the cutting, the hauling, the trimming o’ them damn trees that’s the hardest part. No sir, it’s afterwards, when the walls are built. The sealing. Caulking they call it. If’n you don’t get that right, you’ll damn well freeze from exposure come winter. Fast as you plug that mud in, out it’ll come again if a strong wind blows ‘fore it dries.

Did I tell you ‘bout Old Hog Face getting stuck…? I did, didn’t I? Bob? Oh yeah, well he fell foul o’ another pair of injuns, scavengers. He were out hunting and they ambushed him. He was a dead eye with a rifle and killed ‘em both but not afore he took an axe in his thigh, damn near severed his leg. By the time I found him, he’d bled to death. I could see the blood, like a river, soaking into the snow for near twenty, thirty yards. Musta been a main artery and he hadn’t helped himself by pulling that axe out but he’d have been a goner anyhows, I guess.

That was the first time in my entire life that I cried, though it would not be the last. Took me a long time to get over that. Even thought ‘bout packing up and leaving. But I didn’t. Once a year, I would travel down to collect those necessaries needed and, sure enough, that town had spread until it had become a city and I hated it. 

 Could not see myself living there or any other place like it. So’s I decided to stay up here. When they introduced the land settlement laws, I made up my mind that this would be my permanent home and I took up my full option. Fourteen hundred acres thataway. Twelve hundred, this. Eleven hundred, north and south.  

One o’ the best things I ever did. For the last three years, every summer, they come; those surveying fellas. I don’t pay no attention, let ‘em trample all over. They ain’t doing me no harm but, ‘fore they leave, sure as the moon is made o’ cheese, they come aknocking and make me an offer. I just reach for my rifle. That’s enough for them to vamoose. But, each and every year, that offer gets higher and higher. Don’t rightly know what’s hereabouts that makes them want to get their greedy mitts on this land but it must be something real valuable.  

No, I ain’t got no family. When I go, all this, far as the eye can see, will become the property of the Apsaalooke family of Ol’ Hog Face. They don’t know it ‘cos it’s a secret but it’s in the will I done made on one trip to Helena. They been good to me since…since…you knows, since, well, I ain’t been able to get about. My legs being real bad. Takes ‘em a while to get oiled up of a morning. And my eyes, well, they ain’t what they used to be. I can’t hardly make you out right now.

Regrets? Well, I wish I was better with my letters, that’s for sure. I’d buy a paper, every year, on my trip down and it’d take me best part of another year struggling to read it all. If’n I could read better, reckon I could have passed my time of an evening, in front o’ this fire, reading them there books. Leastways, back when my eyes was good.

This land is all mine, you know. Best thing I ever did. Ol’ Hog Face’s family still live up yonder. They’ve grown some since he passed. Now, it’s them that leaves food for me, can you believe? They don’t talk much but they been real good to me and I got a surprise for them when I go. I can’t tell you what it is ‘cos it’s a secret, see. Hey, what d’ya think about Ol’ Hog Face being front and foremost beckoning to me from those flames? Crazy ain’t it?

The books? Nah, they ain’t mine. They was Josie’s. Josie? My wife. It were ‘bout a year after Bob passed, I’d got so used to his company and I were finding it hard up here on my own. I put an advertisement in the Helena Tribune. What for? A wife, o’ course. What’d you think it was for? A mule? 

Any replies? Course I got replies. I might’ve lived on top of a mountain but I owned the damned mountain! And you see me now, an ol’ man, but I was a handsome dude in my day though I say so myself. If memory serves me right, reckon I got ‘bout ten or twelve women apply. Met up with ‘em, too. Darn pretty, some of ‘em. But I ain’t no fool. No sir. I could tell what they was after. Gold diggers! 

But Josie? She were different. She weren’t young and she weren’t pretty but I could tell, from one look, that she were sturdy, a hard worker and had a good heart. Course, after we got hitched, there were plenty o’ moments when I felt damned sure that she’d change her mind and turn back, the higher we climbed the mountain on our mules, but she never so much as said one word. Not ’til we got to the top and she took a deep breath o’ the sweet, pure air, looked down below at the view, which is something to behold, smiled and said: “Reckon this’ll do just fine”.

We was happy. I mean real happy. She made a home outa my rough and tumble cabin; curtains and the like. She would read to me of a night, keep me warm in bed, pull a tooth when needed. But that woman had one big fault: she sure was a terrible cook.  

Didn’t matter what I caught, she’d be sure to overcook it or undercook it, no matter how hard she tried. Beaver, squirrel, rabbit; made no damn difference. That’s why I had to take over those duties, else we’d have starved. Huh? Oh she passed. Ten years ago. Second time in my life that I cried. No. She just got ill and kinda faded away. Yeah, laid me low for a long, long time. She’s buried yonder, right next to Bob, overlooking the valley below. She loved that view. Yessir, I’d go visit every day. Sit and talk to both o’ them, back when my eyes and legs were good. Been a while since I done that now.

Did I tell you that I own this land? Did I say it were the best thing I ever did? Well, that ain’t true. Best thing I ever did was marry Josie. Best wife a man could ever have, apart from the cooking that is.  

Her books? Mister, even if I could read good, which I can’t, my eyes are so bad now that I’d struggle to pick the books off the shelf, never mind make out the words. Yes. Josie’s right there, along with Bob, in those flames, calling me to them. Sure hope that fire don’t mean they is down below with Ol’ Nick. Hah! But, wherever they is, they want me with ‘em. Want me real bad, too. But Ol’ Hog Face, he’s front and foremost. What d’you think about that? Is that crazy or what? That pesky ol’ injun, front and foremost.

Okay, yes, dammit, I’ll admit, sometimes, I do talk to people, see strangers, not realising if they’re real or not. But would you be any different if’n you lived on top of a mountain, for near on thirty years, alone? 

I am in the winter o’my life and I knows it.