PONDER THE PATH

BOOK EXCERPTS

Excerpts from Revised 2nd Edition of PONDER THE PATH [1808-1830], $12.95 ISBN 1-889252-02-6, 6x9 Trade Paperback, 279 Pages, Fur Country Map

Published By PHOTOSENSITIVE, P.O. BOX 7008 Hemet, CA 92545

Having already inspired young William Sublette with tales of Lewis and Clark, John Colter and by his own example, renowned grandfather Colonel William Whitley is leaving Kentucky for the War of 1812 [pages 43 & 44]:

A rooster's shrill crow startled [12 year old] William Sublette in the gray dawn at the stable. He hadn't slept all night for fear of missin' this farewell.

Though it was July, William could see his breath. His bare feet were cold enough to crack like thin ice. The warm, musky scent of a horse hung heavy in the air. Colonel Whitley brushed his saddled stallion's glinting neck. The sabre in its dented silver scabbard from the stairway in Whitley House hung from the pommel.

Without turning, he smiled, "I know you're here, because you said you'd be here, William, so I don't have to look."

William was about to bawl. He grated, "Yes sir, I'm here. [Brother] Milton's comin' too, but he's gotta find [hound] Seneca first."

Colonel Whitley's smile broadened. Yesterday he'd been a hero cheered by a thousand. Today -- upstaged by a hound. "William, I can't wait for Milton. I must join my regiment. I'll tell you my philosophy of life. You can pass it on to Milton."

"What's a philosophy, sir?" William queried, his breath whisked away by what a figure Grandpa cut in his blue uniform with all the gold braid.

"My recipe for living. William, be true to your country and yourself. Be courageous even when you have nothing left to give to the fight. Be honest in all things. Keep honest accounts and pay your debts even if it costs you your supper."

"Yes sir."

"Then the Colonel added with a wink, "But the two most important things to remember are never hit a man without your bullet pouch inside your fist and always carry a pistol in each boot!" Colonel Whitley mounted and thundered out of the stable, his fiery stallion's shod hooves clanging sparks from the cobblestone floor.

Accounts of the grizzly ripping of Jedediah Smith and the bizarre aftermath in Wyoming's Powder River basin are from the Journals of witness James Clyman, the journals and letters of several other Mountain Men [pages 133 & 134]:

Two miles further, Captain [Jedediah] Smith was elated to find a beaver dam ponding the stream with their lodge near the middle and another lodge -- or large rock -- a few feet out into this crystalline water. Lazily, he contemplated spending a day or two trapping the pond while [Ed] Rose traded horses with the Crows.

The nine foot bull grizzly exploded from his big rock simulation, drenching Smith with icy water and seizing his head in its teeth. Smith felt his skull flexing in the bear's jaws as the smell of rotten meat stunned his nose.

[William] Sublette raised his rifle.

"Don't shoot! You'll hit the Captain!" Thomas Eddy yelled, grabbing at Sublette's rifle. Sublette tried to dodge past Eddy, but Eddy blocked his path.

Sublette kicked Eddy in the belly and fired past the flopping Jedediah. The heavy bullet struck the scarred bear near the heart, but it kept chewin' Jedediah's head. Sublette pulled a stubby Hawken pistol from each boot and charged the bear.

Jedediah's weight bent the bear's head low. The grizzly's head was big as the punkins he used to shoot at as a boy with Artemis. Sublette fired one pistol point blank into its left eye! Its eye blasted out, the grizzly dropped Jedediah and lurched toward Sublette.

Sublette jammed his other Hawken into the bear's bloody maw and fired the double load into its brain. The grizzly reeled backward, crashin' into the shallows across the sunken bones of a puma and a host of its prior victims.

Congealing blood splotched Sublette's face, arms and chest. While trappers tended Jedediah Smith, Sublette moved down shore and rinsed off the blood in the gory water. The smooth scar on the left side of his chin was sticky with blood but didn't feel like he was cut. He heard himself whisper, "Thanks Artemis [his slave mammy]!" but couldn't believe he'd said that.

Jim Clyman examined Jedediah's lacerated head. The bear'd sunk a fang close to the Captain's left eye and another by his right ear. The giant teeth'd laid Jedediah's chalky skull bare to the crown of his head. His left ear dangled from the jagged edge of his scalp. "What can I do, Captain?"

Jedediah dammed blood pouring into his face with his buckskin sleeve. "Get your needle and thread from your possibles bag. Sew my scalp on as best you can."

Clyman scissored away Jedediah's thick hair. Stitching the torn scalp was like sewing the sole on a moccasin. After an hour, Clyman grunted, "Finished. Can't sew your ear on. I just don't know how all these shreds go together."

"Jim, you must sew my ear on so I'm able to hear the Lord from either side."

Clyman sewed as others held pitch knot torches. "I've sewed your ear on the best I can, Jedediah."

"We'll make camp, so I can sleep. I'm weak -- very weak."

Sublette squinted at Jedediah's stitched ear in the torchlight. "Not so fast Clyman. That ear looks catty-wampus. Captain, I think Clyman's gotta start over. We cain't have the Lord talkin' into no crooked ear."

Irish Tom Fitzpatrick's voice boomed from the darkness, "Now see here, Sublette -- a man has to leave well enough alone. If Jim sews that ear on back'ards, the Captain'll be jumpin' right onto rattlesnakes, stead o' backin' away from 'em!"

In 1827's New Years Day blizzard, an epic journey begins [pages 192-94]:

Wind screeched through the cracks in the [Cache Valley, Utah] cabin wall, as [William] Sublette confided, "Under our contract, General Ashley has to supply S, J & S [Smith, Jackson & Sublette] with goods for the July 1, 1827 Rendezvous, if we put the list of our needs in his hand by March 1, 1827. I never counted on this blizzard. S, J & S'll fer sure go busted if I cain't make it to St. Louie in 90 days."

Moses Harris grinned, "Mus' be 1200 mile. Take dat 90 days on horseback to make it in good weathah."

"Mose, it's yer right to say no, but I'm askin' if yer willin' to try mushin' to St. Louie with me on snow shoes?"

"Is pigs uglier dan us? Gonna load all I kin on dat pack dog o' yers. We boaf haul all we kin, we might kin git dere in time."

By noon Sublette, Moses and the pack dog Pony were bucking icy gales east through the mountains. With his heavy pack Pony's huge feet sank deep in the snow. They expected to find buffalo around Ham's Fork, but ate jerky instead, diving for cover from hunting Indians that barely missed Pony with any arrow.

They reached Independence Rock about the middle of January. While Moses skinned the buffalo he'd downed, Pony brought a winter hare to Sublette. When Moses came with fresh buffalo meat steaming in the cold, Sublette gave the rabbit back to Pony. After a brutally cold night they packed all the buffalo they could carry and let Pony gnaw the frozen carcass till they staggered away in the snow.

Moses and Sublette took turns breaking trail in the crackling cold. They stumbled onto the frozen North Platte, then wallowed through low hills to Ash Hollow. After trying to dodge Pawnee sign, they fell into friendly Big Elk's camp. The Indians shared what they had, then sent them into the dawn.

Just past Cold Camp Creek, they met a small band of Indians. Sublette traded a hunting knife for a buffalo tongue. He tried to give part of the tongue to Pony, but the once mighty animal had fallen weak and listless. Sublette moved the sugar and coffee from Pony's pack to his own, hoping Pony'd get his strength back.

At Grand Island, Sublette shot a raven, but he and Moses were so hungry they wolfed it down raw. Pony ignored his piece of the gaunt bird to lick his own raw feet. Fifty miles further, Sublette and Moses got too feeble to walk, collapsing under three trees frozen together like the folds in a lady's fan. At dawn Moses knew he'd die if he didn't eat. He shook Sublette awake. "We gotta eat yo dog or die."

"Cain't eat Pony, " Sublette sprayed through bleeding lips.

"We dyin'. Gotta eat," Moses rasped as the wind blew a shawl of frost across the black man's face, turning it white as glistening salt.

Sublette knew Mose was a man among men. He couldn't let him die. "I'll do it Mose. He might turn on you." Sublette's huge hands closed around Pony's throat. The wolf-dog's yellow eyes went glassy. Pony coughed but did not fight for life. A vision of [his brother] Milton bounding through a field of spring flowers with [beloved hound] Seneca blinded William. "Milton must never know what we done here," Sublette sobbed.

His own tears freezing to his face, Moses lunged to grab the dying dog's throat. "Dis is killin' you, Bill. I'm gonna say I done it." But Moses collapsed, and Sublette squeezed until his beloved Pony lay still in his great hands.