FLAT NOSE EMORY YARNS A YARN
Joan Stephens
Chapter One
The year was 1845 and Maynard Emory, known to everyone as Flat Nose, was reduced to guiding a wagon train across the length of the western wilderness due to the fall off in the price of beaver hides. It seemed that the European fashions no longer favored beaver skin hats, but with the money he would make guiding this wagon train, he could go home to the Rockies and give it one more try.
Fifty-two wagons were camped in south central Wyoming near the inscribed rock that in the future would become known as Independence Rock. Their evening chores done, several of the children had gathered around the fire that burned in the center of the ring of wagons. Bickering and teasing among themselves, they fell silent as Flat Nose ambled by. The mountain man could move as fast as greased lightning when necessary, but in the ease of safe and comfortable daily living, he rarely moved faster than a lumbering land turtle. One of the boys nudged a skinny, redheaded, freckle-faced youth slightly older than he and whispered, "Ast him, Sam. Gowan, ast ‘em."
Overhearing the whispered question, Emory stopped and approached the ring of children. "Ast me whut?" he queried.
"Wal, we wuz jest wonderin’, did you ever know the lionman of the Judith Mountains?"
Scratching his head, the mountain man squeezed onto a log between two of the prettiest little girls. "Whuta yu heerd?" he wanted to know.
Babbling all at the same time, they told him what they had been told: the lionman was ugly, hairy, brutish; a phantom of the night who lies in wait for the unwary, tears them apart, and then kills and eats them; and roasts bad children over a slow fire and gobbles them down in one bite (that had been told to them to get them to mind).
Throwing his head back, Emory let out a donkey bray of laughter and slapped his knees. When he sobered, he asked them if they wanted to hear the true story: an adventure yarn, the girls groaned, and a love story, the boys groaned even louder.
With a twinkle in his eyes, Flat Nose glanced around the campfire at the expectant, glowing faces painted ruddy with firelight. "Wal, ah s’pect yu’all want this hyar chile ter yarn yu a shinin’ good yarn t’night. How ‘bout ah put it off’n til t’morry night? It’s a long’un."
Protesting vigorously, the children implored him to tell the story tonight. "Wal, ef’n yu insist," he agreed, pleased at their reaction, and settled back, making himself comfortable, for this would make for a long night of yarning. One at a time, he looked at each of the eight children, who were eagerly awaiting the beginning of his yarn, beginning most impressively, "Ah knowed the lionman personal. ‘N’ most o’ this hyar yarn ah heerd from Vincent, hissel’. We bekem strong frien’s thru the yars."
"Golly!" Josh, one of the boys breathed, expressing all their childish awe in that one word.
"A right strange critter he wuz tu, but as kind ‘n’ gentle a feller as yu cud ever fin’. But git him riled up ‘n’ yu cud fin’ yersel’ ripped open from gizzard to gullet. Ah seed ‘em at the fust rendezvous ah ever went ter. In 1830, ah think it wuz. He whar ‘bout thuty then ‘n’ ah kin tell yu ah . . ."
"Weren’t you skeered?" wee, little pale-faced Beth burst out.
"Wal . . . shore ah wuz, ah wuz plumb shook a mite when ah fust seed ‘em. But no one else seemed partic’lar skeered of ‘em, ony them that hed narry got to know him. Latecomers, they wuz, new to the mountuns."
"Ah found out later that hiz pappy wuz Ole Jake Wells, who hed a habit o’ takin’ in strays and younguns. He’d been takin’ Vincent, thet wuz hiz name, doncha know, wharever he went ‘n’ t’other trappers hed watched him grow from a tiny mite inter a strappin’ lad."
"Wuz he as ugly as they say?" the freckle-faced boy asked.
Putting his hands on his knees and leaning forward, Emory answered, "Wal now, ah reckon thet kinda ‘pended on whether yu wuz a frien’ or a’ enemy. He whar a queer lookin’ critter but a better man or truer frien’ a body cud narry fin’. Some thort him ugly but ah figgered he wuz kinda purty. He hed long, yaller hair ‘n’ a face like a lion. Any o’ yu ever seed a lion?"
The mesmerized children shook their heads.
"Ah dint reckon so. Ah seed one onct at a travelin’ show in St. Looey jest afore ah kem ter the mountuns. A lion looks sorter like a cougar. Yu’all ken whut a cougar looks like?"
"Yessir," Tommy Flint said, "My father hauled a dead one in one day. We all got a good look at it."
"Wal, a lion’s bigger ‘n’ hez a big collar o’ long fur round his neck ‘n’ iz kinda golden ‘n’ so wuz Vincent. Ah wuz proud thet he whar a frien’ o’ mine."
"Where’d he cum from?" a bright-eyed slip of a girl named Molly asked, twisting her sandy-colored braids excitedly.
"Nobody knows. Now, the way ah heerd it, he wuz found in the snow outside o’ Ole Jake Well’s cabin."
"I heerd thet name before," Caleb Mc Cool interjected. The son of the wagon master, he was the boy who had egged Sammy to ask for the story.
"Yu wud narry afiggered Ole Jake ter bekem a mountun man. He was edjicated, doncha know. He wuz a eastener from Nu Yawk; ah heerd tell that he wuz married onct but it dint work out. Don’t know why. Broke, he moved ter the Ohio Wilderness, hopin’ ter make some money by trappin’. Anyway, the youngun wuz real poorly but Ole Jake saved ‘em ‘n’ jest plumb fell in luv wi’ thet li’l kitten face, ‘n’ he reckoned thet he’d keep ‘em ‘n’ raise ‘em as hiz’n. The Ohio Wilderness plumb filled up wi’ people, drivin’ the best pelts outta the country. Got so’s yu’d meet new people ever day. Tu crowded. Skeered fer Vincent, he moved ter the Musselshell ‘n’ tuk ter trapping’ thar. He whar a frien’ly cuss ‘n’ hiz cabin bekem a way-stop fer the trappers on thar way up the river. Ever chile o’ man, be he Injun er white, jest sorter tuk ter Vincent, watchin’ ‘em grow up ‘n’ they larned ‘em everthin’ they knowed. By the time he wuz full-growed, he cud be as silent as an Injun ‘n ’ narry git lost anywhar."
Julia, a little yellow-haired temptress, who looked as if she didn’t believe him, asked, "But we’ve been told that he was big and ugly. How could anybody be friends with someone like that?" What Flat Nose was telling them just didn’t fit with what they’d been told all their lives by their elders, and she didn’t know what to believe.
"Wal now, ‘member ah tol’ ye ah figgered he wuz kinda purty?" Eight heads nodded in unison. "Wagh! Most o’ the trappers thet hed watched ‘em grow from a kitten inter a strappin’ young hoss hed the same idear ‘n’ thort nothin’ o’ hiz looks. Those thet did larned early on ter stay away or ter keep they’s feelin’s ter tharselves. The ony ones he hed to keer about whar the strangers thet he moite kem upon in the wild. They wuz mostly pilgrims new ter the mountuns ‘n’ new ter ar ways. Yu’d call ‘em greenhorns. But bein’ pilgrims they dint know tu much about bein’ silent in the woods ‘n’ he cud heer ‘em keming afore they seed ‘em."
"Why didn’t they drive him away?" Sammy asked.
"Wal now, thet ain’t hard to explain. Mountuneers air used ter strange lookin’ critters: Hugh Glass, fer a fac’, lost haffa hiz face to a bar ‘n’ ole Pete MacGregor hed hiz scalp tuk by a Blackfoot brave. They’s lost fingers, toes, ears," and touching his nose, "‘n’ hed queer lookin’ noses. Vincent hed all hiz parts. He whar different but ah ben tol’ he whar the cutest li’l kitten yu ever seed and the mountuneers sorter tuk ‘im as a . . . Whut iz it they calls them good luck things?"
The children looked at each other and one of the girls, Molly, offered hesitantly, "A mascot?"
Flat Nose slapped his knees gleefully, "Yes’m, thet’s the word ah wuz lookin’ fer. He wuz our’n mascot til he growed tu big fer a head maulin’.
"Ole Jake teached Vincent all he knowed tu: book larnin’, readin’ ‘n’ ritin’, ‘n’ trappin’. Hiz cabin wuz plumb full ter the rooftop wi’ books ‘n’ sech, ‘n’ he wuz one o’ the best trappers around. Ony Vincent wuz better. They allus cum ter rendezvous wi’ thar hosses loaded down wi’ furs ‘n’ they wuz prime plews tu. ‘N’ trackin’? Why ef’n Vincent wuz on yer trail, yu’d narry git away.
"At one of the rendezvous . . . ," Flat Nose scratched his beard, ". . . 1833, ah s’pect it wuz, Vincent heerd ‘bout the virgin trappin’ in the Judith Mountuns. When he ‘n’ hiz paw got back ter home, he told Ole Jake thet he wuz agoin’ ter the Judiths. His paw tried ter talk ‘em outta it, but Vincent wuz steady in hiz wantin’ ‘n’ he left afore the winter set in, sayin’ he’d send word when he got thar. Wal, it whar two yar afore Ole Jake heerd from hiz boy. Some say Vincent got lost but ef’n ah knowed ‘em he wuz abusy helpin’ t’others thet it jest took ‘em longer. He’s saved many a lost soul or dyin’ body. But Jake finally heerd thet hiz boy wuz on the Judith River close by a tradin’ post run by Charlie Chandler. Charlie’s tradin’ post wuz sitiated whar the Judith runned inter the Missouri. Now Vincent sent word to hiz paw thet he wuz afixin’ ter go up the Judith inter the mountuns ‘n’ wud be gone fer quite a spell.
"Now, Charlie had a dotter thet wuz livin’ wi’ her gran’folks back east. She showed up on hiz doorstep the same yar thet Vincent went inter the mountuns. She wuz a right purty little thing: small ‘n’ slight wi’ big green eyes ‘n’ honey-brown har, but she shore wuz hardheaded ‘n’ in-de-pen-dent. A spinster, she hedn’t ketched a man yet. Still, she wuz a lovin’ ‘n’ keerin’ dotter. Worked as hard as old Charlie. About six months arter she kem, she turned up missin’."
"Did the lionman take her?" Corey Flint asked, her dark brown eyes big as saucers.
"No, siree," Flat Nose replied. "Yu see, Fancy Bouchard hed been asparkin’ her but she cudn’t see ‘em fer dust. Ah allus figgered he had tuk her. One o’ her eastern beaus–a greenhorn named Tom Gunther–showed up ter tek ‘er back. He ‘n’ Charlie got a bunch o’ us t’gether, ‘n’ we went alookin’ fer her. We got ter Fancy’s cabin but figgered it whar tu near t’ winter ter go on. Anyway, he tole us thet Vincent hed tuk her, sayin’ thet he’d seed Vincent slinkin’ past hiz cabin wi’ her slung over hiz hoss. He’d tried ter stop ‘em but he whar tu strong fer ‘em. Ole Charlie turned white, afearin’ fer hiz dotter but thar wuz nothin’ a body cud do ‘cept wait fer spring.
"Seems Vincent wuz runnin’ hiz trapline when he felt this oddity in hiz heart. Fust off he wuz afeared thet he wuz havin’ ahurtin’ o’ the heart er sumpin. Then he knowed it whar sommun else’s feelin’ he wuz feelin’. Whosoever it wuz, wuz moity unhappy ‘n’ skeered. He sez it wuz like he wuz bein’ called by thet body. He follered thet call ter a shack on the side o’ a mountun. He knowed it belonged ter a trapper knowed as Bouchard. He scouted roun’ gittin’ closer ter the shack alla time. He heerd shoutin’ ‘n ’ screamin’ ‘n’ soon the door busted open ‘n’ a woman kem flyin’ out wi’ Fancy achasin’ arter her. Now Vincent and Bouchard hed narry hit it off ‘n’ he relished the fact thet he cud do some serious damage ter t’other man ef’n he so desired.
"The woman wuz arunnin’ right at Vincent ‘n’ he cud see thet her clothes wuz half-torn off’n her. He kenned that it wuz Charlie’s dotter ‘n’ let her pass then risin’ up wi’ a roar . . . Did ah fergit ter tell yu thet he cud let out a moity loud roar thet’d raise the har on yer scalp? Wal, he cud ‘n ’ risin’ up wi’ a moitey roar, he skeered old Fancy plumb outta hiz mind. Thet chile let out a screech thet cud be heerd five mile away ‘n’ hightailed it back ter his shack ‘n’ slammed the door. He plumb figgered he’d about runned inter a bar. Chucklin’ ter hissel’, Vincent runned arter the girl.
"Wal now, she wuz a city gal thru ‘n’ thru ‘n’ swooned plumb away when she seed big ole Vincent againin’ on her. This bothered ‘em somethin’ turrible. Newcomers hed stared at him, some whar down right onfrien’ly ‘n’ some whar even skeered til they got ter know him, but no one hed ever swooned at the sight o’ ‘em. Anyway, he picked her up ‘n’ tuk her tu hiz camp. He laid her on a pallet he hed made in hiz small lean-to ‘n’ covered her wi’ his large buffalo robe, meanin’ ter stay outta sight so as he wudn’t skeer her any more . . ."