SHADOW ON THE MOUNTAIN
A SHORT STORY BY RICHARD SWAIN
The sound of his femur snapping would never be forgotten. The cracking of his head on the boulder would never be remembered. All his dog could do was lay by his side and whimper.
There was a good reason Montana was called Big Sky country. Free from the mark of man’s interference, a beautiful sun stroked day could be chased by steel gray rolling clouds, and then suddenly darkened by a blanketing snowfall.
Here on the Yellowstone River in 1806, Captain William Clark of the Lewis and Clark Expedition camped with Sacajawea while returning east. Famed mountain men like George Drouillard and Hugh Glass roamed this land of the Blackfeet and Crow Indians.
Our story begins in 1890 on the outskirts of Livingston, a small town founded eight years earlier by railroad men of the Northern Pacific. Livingston is on the Yellowstone with a backdrop of the great Bridger Mountain Range. It is here where twelve-year-old Jamie lives with his Pa and Ma on a small ranch with their two hundred head of cattle. His constant companion is his dog Reever.
Reever is a male Anatolian Shepherd weighing 150 pounds. This breed of dog originated in the Anatolia region of central Turkey. It is rugged, large and very strong, with good sight and hearing that allow it to protect livestock. Jamie’s Pa had to sacrifice twenty of their cattle for his exchange five years ago as a pup. A good week’s work would earn Jamie and Reever a Sunday afternoon adventure.
When Jamie ventures away from the ranch, he carries two required items, his Bowie knife and his kit. The Bowie knife was named after another of the famed mountain men, Jim Bowie. Folks in this area knew all the stories of men going up against a bear with just this knife. For Jamie, it would be Reever who would be his protection. The kit was a canvas bag carried on his back with a coat, fishing supplies, strips of cord for tying, and various items for the unexpected need.
As always, Jamie kissed his Ma and promised one or two trout for dinner. Heading toward the Yellowstone River with Black Mountain beyond, he drew designs on the ground with a fishing stick found along the way. Even in early fall, a sunny afternoon can be cold when you are in a high altitude of almost a mile up to that big sky above. Pulling on his coat, he quickened his pace to the favored fishing spot. Digging up worms, fixing his pole with line and hook, Jamie sat on a large log that extended into the river. Often Reever would bound away chasing a flock of birds or a rabbit moving within the nearby bushes. Soon with two trout cleaned, wrapped, and placed in his kit, off they went to their next destination, a climb up Black Mountain. The gray wolf was the enemy of the rancher. In 1884 a bounty law was passed in Montana and a wolf pup hide would fetch five dollars. The highest bounty was $400 for a notorious white wolf that had eluded ranchers for years.
Reever was the first to hear the plaintive mooing of a calf in distress, and instinctively bolted up the hill and over a ridge. Jamie ran after his dog attempting to call him back. As he reached the crest, he saw a pack of wolves trying to pull a stray calf up the next ridge. The massive animal closed in quickly and with such a ferociousness that the surprised pack started to scatter. The calf would not survive, and Jamie’s greatest concern was for his dog. The wolves regrouped and slowly started to move back toward the dog. With the calf now behind him, and Jamie’s cry to come back, he held his ground and moved no further. Baring his teeth and uttering a low pitched snarl the wolves lost their interest and resumed their climb. As Jamie’s eyes followed the pack up the mountain, his heart seemed to stop as further up the ridge on a large boulder stood the white wolf.
A dog’s sense of hearing is significant, able to distinguish sounds four times greater than a human. A wolf’s howl can carry for miles. Jamie heard nothing, perhaps it was the great white starting to lift its head, but in seconds Reever was almost upon the most feared predator of southern Montana. The sounds of fighting was deafening and echoed down the mountain. Even at this distance, Jamie saw teeth flash and strike. Pulling his knife from the sheath, he climbed toward the animals yelling with all his might. His action, however foolish, had the desired effect of distracting the fight. The wolf had started to turn away as Jamie slipped on the loose soil. The fall was instant, and as his full weight crashed against the tree, he heard the leg bone snap. How much time passed is difficult to calculate, Jamie felt weight and heat. As he started to stir, his dog moved off him and stared down with confusion. Trying to move his body, he felt a stabbing pain at the back of his head, and a deeper throbbing pain in his left thigh. It took all his energy to work the kit off his back and drag it up for a pillow effect, he passed out for a second time.
Was someone putting water on his face? Moving his hand up to his cheek, Jamie realized it was snow. Opening his eyes he saw nothing but white. Reever stirred beside him. Jamie had a maturity well beyond his twelve years, a product of ranch life in a remote part of the country. Knowing the seriousness of a blizzard away from shelter, he tried to stand but fell numerous times. He quickly determined his left leg was broken and would need a splint. The challenge was finding the right pieces of tree limb in an area reasonably barren, and with falling snow covering what little was on the ground. He dragged himself along to a fallen branch that could be an example for Reever. Calling out “fetch,” the dog went scurrying in all directions dragging back branches of all sizes and shapes.
Selecting the two best pieces, he started to fashion his splint. Grateful to find sufficient cord in his kit for a tight wrap of poles to leg, he then selected a third piece for a crutch. Jamie needed to move slowly as the crack to his head left him woozy and off balance. With almost whiteout blizzard conditions, he correctly assessed the need to shelter in place until his Pa could find him. Looking further up the mountain, he spotted a collection of boulders that could, with added snowfall, create a shelter cave for protection.
At the potential cave sight, Jamie used his knife as a digging instrument to carve out a deeper hole under the boulders and further into the mountain side. Almost immediately, Reever joined in the dig and soil was soon flying behind them and down the hill. By the time the cave was finished, it was the darkest of nights. While Jamie had a pouch in his kit with a spindle and a modest amount of material for his tinder nest, he would not be able to hold a fire until daylight, and would have to wait for warmth. Throughout the night the wolves howled and moved around the area.
At daylight, Jamie was disheartened to see the level of snowfall, and for the first time felt a pang of fear in his heart. He cut the two trout in strips for their breakfast. Later that morning Jamie heard two rifle shots from far away. He knew that his Pa and neighbors were looking for them. He commanded Reever “go get them,” and the dog bounded out of the cave. His progress down the hill was hampered by the deep snow. Almost immediately, two gray wolves circled around to the face of the cave snarling and moving toward the entrance.
With knife in hand, Jamie steadied himself by laying up against the side of the cave with his splinted leg at an angle to the side. Swinging the knife from side to side while yelling his fiercest cry, he prepared to defend himself. One wolf was able to grab the boot on the splinted leg and was trying to drag him out of the cave. The other wolf was snapping at the hand holding the knife. From out of the falling snow, Reever fell upon the wolf pulling his leg, and with his jaws into the back of the neck flung him away and lunged at the other. With Jamie’s call, he came back into the cave and blocked the entrance. They were stranded.
Afternoon moved into the second night as the snow continued to fall. Jamie dug further into the back and sides of the cave seeking twigs or leaves that could be used for a morning fire. Again during the night, wolves howled and moved around outside. Sleeping soundly from exhaustion, Jamie was awoken by a vicious fight in front of the cave. Calling out for Reever, he quickly realized the dog was next to him blocking the entrance of the cave.
With an awakening dawn, Jamie looked out in disbelief. The snow was trampled and spotted with blood and tufts of hair. Lying two feet in front of the cave entrance was a freshly killed rabbit. Bringing the rabbit inside, the body was still soft. Using his cane as a prod, he fashioned a vent in the cave ceiling, and prepared what would be his only fire. Skinning the rabbit and using bones as a skewer, he roasted the animal for a much needed meal. Later in the day rifle shots were again heard far away, but neither boy nor dog ventured out.
Jamie made the decision to wait one more day before risking the descent down the mountain. During the night, another fight broke out among wolves near the cave. Jamie held Reever tightly. In morning light, a scene unfolded that became a legend of the Yellowstone for the next fifty years. Two feet away from the cave entrance was another freshly killed rabbit. As he shuffled out on his belly to retrieve the animal he froze as he gazed upon the great white wolf ten feet to his side. This beautiful predator stared at Jamie but would not move from his crouched position. His wounds were visible on numerous parts of his body, and he was panting heavily. Grabbing the rabbit, Jamie pushed himself back into the cave. With no fire, they both ate the raw meat.
Later that afternoon, rifle shots were heard and this time seemingly closer in their direction. Taking out his knife, and moving into a sitting position against the cave wall, he commanded Reever “get Pa.” The dog moved out of the cave and glared at the wolf for what seemed an eternity, and then bounded down the snow laden mountain barking vociferously.
Several minutes later Jamie heard the threatening sounds of the pack. Four grays moved around to the front of the cave and two tried to enter the cave baring their fangs. Later, it would be difficult for Jamie to describe the fight that ensued as too much happened too quickly. While Jamie caught one wolf with a knife slash to his head, the other was able to bite his hand causing the knife to drop. At the same time he could see flashes of the great white attacking the other two grays. There were moments when Jamie feared all six of them would be inside the cave. Using his splinted leg as a ram, he swung it back and forth. Now the rifle shots were just down the mountain and Jamie heard Reever’s bark, the grays scattered.
The great white lay just outside the cave taking his last breaths. The two neighbors moved the wolf to the side while his Pa carefully lifted Jamie from the enclosure. Reever moved over to the wolf and sat by his side, while Jamie’s hand was cleaned and bandaged. Jamie felt embarrassed by his sobbing, but could not hold back the tears.
Jamie asked his Pa “how did you find me?” It was the afternoon sun shining on the mountain, the cave entrance gave a shadow effect against the white snow. This was the answer . Before they could depart, the boy insisted the great white be buried. While the men dug, Jamie broke his crutch and fashioned a cross that was placed upon the grave.
RICHARD SWAIN
A SHORT STORY BY RICHARD SWAIN
The sound of his femur snapping would never be forgotten. The cracking of his head on the boulder would never be remembered. All his dog could do was lay by his side and whimper.
There was a good reason Montana was called Big Sky country. Free from the mark of man’s interference, a beautiful sun stroked day could be chased by steel gray rolling clouds, and then suddenly darkened by a blanketing snowfall.
Here on the Yellowstone River in 1806, Captain William Clark of the Lewis and Clark Expedition camped with Sacajawea while returning east. Famed mountain men like George Drouillard and Hugh Glass roamed this land of the Blackfeet and Crow Indians.
Our story begins in 1890 on the outskirts of Livingston, a small town founded eight years earlier by railroad men of the Northern Pacific. Livingston is on the Yellowstone with a backdrop of the great Bridger Mountain Range. It is here where twelve-year-old Jamie lives with his Pa and Ma on a small ranch with their two hundred head of cattle. His constant companion is his dog Reever.
Reever is a male Anatolian Shepherd weighing 150 pounds. This breed of dog originated in the Anatolia region of central Turkey. It is rugged, large and very strong, with good sight and hearing that allow it to protect livestock. Jamie’s Pa had to sacrifice twenty of their cattle for his exchange five years ago as a pup. A good week’s work would earn Jamie and Reever a Sunday afternoon adventure.
When Jamie ventures away from the ranch, he carries two required items, his Bowie knife and his kit. The Bowie knife was named after another of the famed mountain men, Jim Bowie. Folks in this area knew all the stories of men going up against a bear with just this knife. For Jamie, it would be Reever who would be his protection. The kit was a canvas bag carried on his back with a coat, fishing supplies, strips of cord for tying, and various items for the unexpected need.
As always, Jamie kissed his Ma and promised one or two trout for dinner. Heading toward the Yellowstone River with Black Mountain beyond, he drew designs on the ground with a fishing stick found along the way. Even in early fall, a sunny afternoon can be cold when you are in a high altitude of almost a mile up to that big sky above. Pulling on his coat, he quickened his pace to the favored fishing spot. Digging up worms, fixing his pole with line and hook, Jamie sat on a large log that extended into the river. Often Reever would bound away chasing a flock of birds or a rabbit moving within the nearby bushes. Soon with two trout cleaned, wrapped, and placed in his kit, off they went to their next destination, a climb up Black Mountain. The gray wolf was the enemy of the rancher. In 1884 a bounty law was passed in Montana and a wolf pup hide would fetch five dollars. The highest bounty was $400 for a notorious white wolf that had eluded ranchers for years.
Reever was the first to hear the plaintive mooing of a calf in distress, and instinctively bolted up the hill and over a ridge. Jamie ran after his dog attempting to call him back. As he reached the crest, he saw a pack of wolves trying to pull a stray calf up the next ridge. The massive animal closed in quickly and with such a ferociousness that the surprised pack started to scatter. The calf would not survive, and Jamie’s greatest concern was for his dog. The wolves regrouped and slowly started to move back toward the dog. With the calf now behind him, and Jamie’s cry to come back, he held his ground and moved no further. Baring his teeth and uttering a low pitched snarl the wolves lost their interest and resumed their climb. As Jamie’s eyes followed the pack up the mountain, his heart seemed to stop as further up the ridge on a large boulder stood the white wolf.
A dog’s sense of hearing is significant, able to distinguish sounds four times greater than a human. A wolf’s howl can carry for miles. Jamie heard nothing, perhaps it was the great white starting to lift its head, but in seconds Reever was almost upon the most feared predator of southern Montana. The sounds of fighting was deafening and echoed down the mountain. Even at this distance, Jamie saw teeth flash and strike. Pulling his knife from the sheath, he climbed toward the animals yelling with all his might. His action, however foolish, had the desired effect of distracting the fight. The wolf had started to turn away as Jamie slipped on the loose soil. The fall was instant, and as his full weight crashed against the tree, he heard the leg bone snap. How much time passed is difficult to calculate, Jamie felt weight and heat. As he started to stir, his dog moved off him and stared down with confusion. Trying to move his body, he felt a stabbing pain at the back of his head, and a deeper throbbing pain in his left thigh. It took all his energy to work the kit off his back and drag it up for a pillow effect, he passed out for a second time.
Was someone putting water on his face? Moving his hand up to his cheek, Jamie realized it was snow. Opening his eyes he saw nothing but white. Reever stirred beside him. Jamie had a maturity well beyond his twelve years, a product of ranch life in a remote part of the country. Knowing the seriousness of a blizzard away from shelter, he tried to stand but fell numerous times. He quickly determined his left leg was broken and would need a splint. The challenge was finding the right pieces of tree limb in an area reasonably barren, and with falling snow covering what little was on the ground. He dragged himself along to a fallen branch that could be an example for Reever. Calling out “fetch,” the dog went scurrying in all directions dragging back branches of all sizes and shapes.
Selecting the two best pieces, he started to fashion his splint. Grateful to find sufficient cord in his kit for a tight wrap of poles to leg, he then selected a third piece for a crutch. Jamie needed to move slowly as the crack to his head left him woozy and off balance. With almost whiteout blizzard conditions, he correctly assessed the need to shelter in place until his Pa could find him. Looking further up the mountain, he spotted a collection of boulders that could, with added snowfall, create a shelter cave for protection.
At the potential cave sight, Jamie used his knife as a digging instrument to carve out a deeper hole under the boulders and further into the mountain side. Almost immediately, Reever joined in the dig and soil was soon flying behind them and down the hill. By the time the cave was finished, it was the darkest of nights. While Jamie had a pouch in his kit with a spindle and a modest amount of material for his tinder nest, he would not be able to hold a fire until daylight, and would have to wait for warmth. Throughout the night the wolves howled and moved around the area.
At daylight, Jamie was disheartened to see the level of snowfall, and for the first time felt a pang of fear in his heart. He cut the two trout in strips for their breakfast. Later that morning Jamie heard two rifle shots from far away. He knew that his Pa and neighbors were looking for them. He commanded Reever “go get them,” and the dog bounded out of the cave. His progress down the hill was hampered by the deep snow. Almost immediately, two gray wolves circled around to the face of the cave snarling and moving toward the entrance.
With knife in hand, Jamie steadied himself by laying up against the side of the cave with his splinted leg at an angle to the side. Swinging the knife from side to side while yelling his fiercest cry, he prepared to defend himself. One wolf was able to grab the boot on the splinted leg and was trying to drag him out of the cave. The other wolf was snapping at the hand holding the knife. From out of the falling snow, Reever fell upon the wolf pulling his leg, and with his jaws into the back of the neck flung him away and lunged at the other. With Jamie’s call, he came back into the cave and blocked the entrance. They were stranded.
Afternoon moved into the second night as the snow continued to fall. Jamie dug further into the back and sides of the cave seeking twigs or leaves that could be used for a morning fire. Again during the night, wolves howled and moved around outside. Sleeping soundly from exhaustion, Jamie was awoken by a vicious fight in front of the cave. Calling out for Reever, he quickly realized the dog was next to him blocking the entrance of the cave.
With an awakening dawn, Jamie looked out in disbelief. The snow was trampled and spotted with blood and tufts of hair. Lying two feet in front of the cave entrance was a freshly killed rabbit. Bringing the rabbit inside, the body was still soft. Using his cane as a prod, he fashioned a vent in the cave ceiling, and prepared what would be his only fire. Skinning the rabbit and using bones as a skewer, he roasted the animal for a much needed meal. Later in the day rifle shots were again heard far away, but neither boy nor dog ventured out.
Jamie made the decision to wait one more day before risking the descent down the mountain. During the night, another fight broke out among wolves near the cave. Jamie held Reever tightly. In morning light, a scene unfolded that became a legend of the Yellowstone for the next fifty years. Two feet away from the cave entrance was another freshly killed rabbit. As he shuffled out on his belly to retrieve the animal he froze as he gazed upon the great white wolf ten feet to his side. This beautiful predator stared at Jamie but would not move from his crouched position. His wounds were visible on numerous parts of his body, and he was panting heavily. Grabbing the rabbit, Jamie pushed himself back into the cave. With no fire, they both ate the raw meat.
Later that afternoon, rifle shots were heard and this time seemingly closer in their direction. Taking out his knife, and moving into a sitting position against the cave wall, he commanded Reever “get Pa.” The dog moved out of the cave and glared at the wolf for what seemed an eternity, and then bounded down the snow laden mountain barking vociferously.
Several minutes later Jamie heard the threatening sounds of the pack. Four grays moved around to the front of the cave and two tried to enter the cave baring their fangs. Later, it would be difficult for Jamie to describe the fight that ensued as too much happened too quickly. While Jamie caught one wolf with a knife slash to his head, the other was able to bite his hand causing the knife to drop. At the same time he could see flashes of the great white attacking the other two grays. There were moments when Jamie feared all six of them would be inside the cave. Using his splinted leg as a ram, he swung it back and forth. Now the rifle shots were just down the mountain and Jamie heard Reever’s bark, the grays scattered.
The great white lay just outside the cave taking his last breaths. The two neighbors moved the wolf to the side while his Pa carefully lifted Jamie from the enclosure. Reever moved over to the wolf and sat by his side, while Jamie’s hand was cleaned and bandaged. Jamie felt embarrassed by his sobbing, but could not hold back the tears.
Jamie asked his Pa “how did you find me?” It was the afternoon sun shining on the mountain, the cave entrance gave a shadow effect against the white snow. This was the answer . Before they could depart, the boy insisted the great white be buried. While the men dug, Jamie broke his crutch and fashioned a cross that was placed upon the grave.
RICHARD SWAIN