Chapter 12

The fog returned during the night, which made us colder and more miserable.

I shivered, felt sorry for myself for giving up my buffalo robe, and made up my mind to speak to Jean-Louis and his hunters. If there was any chance at all to kill a few buffalo, I wanted them to take it! Bears would be equally welcome, because they also had thick, warm pelts. There would be no time to tan them until after we got to Nacogdoches, but even a dried skin makes a warm pallet. And it would free up whatever quilts or blankets the families owned so that they could use them for coverings.

But the fog hung on until nearly noon and after it lifted, clouds blocked the sun. No buffalo, and no bears. It was cold all afternoon, and then the fog came back. The hunters drifted in to camp late and empty-handed. Finally, just before dark, a distant boom announced that someone had at least shot at something.

I made the rounds from wagon to wagon and noticed that while they waited, the families that had food were sharing what they had with their neighbors. Not much, and not nearly enough, I figured, but they were doing what they could. Hungry children cried and their mothers tried to soothe them, not that it helped.

I kept on moving, trying to get back to the last third of the wagons where there were only old people so I wouldn’t have to listen to the little ones. It didn’t help; the oldsters just looked at me, eyes empty.

I reckon they’d been hungry before, as hungry as me, and a man can’t put his hungry out of mind. It’s always there, until just before starvation sets in. By then, you’ve lost whatever fat you had and your stomach has shrunk down to the size of an apple. You’re a short step away from dying, but at least you’re not hungry anymore. Or so claimed the old mountain men, who’d been that bad off a time or two. I wasn’t there yet, so my empty belly kept on gnawing at me.

I looked up in the bare trees to see if hungry squirrels and possums had missed anything, a persimmon or maybe a hickory nut, but if they had I didn’t see it. And I looked long and hard, just in case.

Finally, the last two hunters walked into camp. Their horses were packing the butchered carcass of a small pony and they were none too pleased to be doing it.

In better times, most of our people would have turned up their nose at horsemeat, and several of the men refused to cook their portions. I ate mine, not that our portions were more than a mouthful, and so did Jean-Louis. We’d eaten worse a time or two after Uncle Henry ran out of fresh meat and vegetables for the Eureka’s crew. What was in those casks might actually have been salt horse, as some of the crew claimed. I’d figured at the time that they were just having fun with the greenhorn, but I’d never been sure.

Women, being more practical, put their pride aside and broiled their portions. The children ate it without knowing or caring what kind of meat it was, and soon most women joined them, the nursing mothers going first.

It was the first time during the trip that we had nothing to eat but horsemeat, but it wasn’t the last. The next time, the ones that had refused it joined in with the rest of us.

Next morning, the sun was out by the time we were ready to leave. I sent the hunters on ahead and told them to find the first camping place where they could hunt. They did, and jumped a herd of elk, killing seven before they got out of range. We got there in mid-afternoon and by then, only two carcasses were still hanging; the rest had been butchered and the meat was waiting, sliced and ready for cooking.

The hunters had already had some, and some had had more than they ought to on an empty stomach! But there was plenty for the rest of us and the greedy ones, like those over-eager hunters, paid for it. Now and then, you’d see one holding onto his belly as he hobbled behind the nearest tree.

I saw to it that the elk-hides went to the ones that needed them most. Not enough for me to have one, but maybe next time, or the time after that...

Two days later, we were once again short of food. The mesquite brush alongside the trail attracted deer, which browsed on the fresh green tips of branches, but the pair that the men bagged didn’t go very far. Most mothers went without so that their children could have as much as possible, but even so it wasn’t enough.

The next day turned out to be more of the same. I was as worried as anyone, because hunger was not my only concern. People had come down with the chills and fever. Some were old folks, but children made up more than half of the sick ones, and the only thing we could do was push on ahead and hope things got better.

They didn’t.

The next morning, we waited around just long enough to bury the middle-aged woman and little girl who had died sometime during the night. Our mood was grim when we drove on, for the animals were also showing the strain. Just looking at the saddle stock, where every rib was showing, was enough to make men turn away and wipe their eyes. I didn’t, because I couldn’t afford to. I had people to care for, and failure shared my saddle with me.

Later that afternoon, three men headed for me. They had never shirked, doing all a man could expect of them to keep the wagons moving, but I could see that they had reached their breaking point.

August Smith was the first to speak, and his right hand hung down near his pistol while he did. “Goddamn it, we can’t keep on doing this! Jake, we’ve got to stop and let the animals rest or they’ll start dying on us! Two or three days is all I’m asking; it will give us time to spread farther out and find some game. My family will die if we don’t!”

“Gus, you’ve got how many?” I asked. “Your wife, her grandmother, and three kids?”

Gus nodded, still angry but willing to talk. “The kids got at least a little bit to eat last night. Jake, I ain’t had a decent meal in over a week and my wife has gone without about that long.” Neither had I, and for a moment I felt like hitting him. For that matter, all three of them, and if it came to a shooting scrape...

But I forced my anger down before it got out of control. Maybe, if I had been in his place, I’d feel the same way.

“Gus, I’m hungry too,” I said. “We all are. You’re trying to take care of five people, but I’m responsible for more than a hundred. You want to trade jobs?”

“Hell, no, Jake! All I want is time for us to get caught up! Time to get our kids fed, maybe collect up some furs so they’ll be warmer. That last creek had otters and they make a fine cap! Warm and waterproof both!”

I just looked at him. He held my eyes for a minute, then looked away.

“Gus, I don’t know how many people would die because you stopped to catch an otter, but I figure one is too many. We’re going on.”

“What kind of a man are you?” he almost whispered. “You’re going to kill people if you keep on this way!”

“I expect you’re right, Gus. As to what kind I am, I’m about as desperate as a man can get.” I turned around and pointed back to where we’d come from. “Santa Anna is back there somewhere. I’ve seen what Mexican soldiers do when they catch people like us, and Santa Anna has already said that any fighting man will be executed on the spot. He might let the women and children go, but do you want to bet that he will? What if he decides that shooting or lancing the families he catches will cause the rest of us to pack up and leave Texas? Do you want your family to depend on Santa Anna’s mercy?”