The Mountain Men Page #2

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and you know it.

I have many men in my camp.

Strong. Young.

Maybe they kill you.

You keep ahold of your young men,

or I'll lift their hair.

But you stole our horses in the winter.

Well, you stole them from me last fall.

You're lucky

I didn't take your whole remuda.

You give us presents, we go in peace.

You can go in dog sh*t, dingleballs.

Had about enough out of you.

Or we take, we take horses!

Well, that'll be after the fight.

You speak with your tongue,

like young girls.

You eat dung of white cows!

Sh*t!

I assume now there's going to be a fight.

I told you there was Blackfoot hereabouts.

God damn it!

You might be right.

Open your eyes, son.

Come on, son, load!

Load, damn it!

After one or two of them bastards

gets killed...

...they sure lose

their stomach for fighting.

Crow dogs,

I crap on the graves of your fathers!

Crow and Blackfeet don't get along,

it seems.

Blackfoot don't get along with nobody.

I've seen them take off a man's skin

a strip at a time.

Blackfoot, come out and fight!

Send me your men!

Cross Otter, why don't you

quit your cussing and send for your braves?

Men without balls!

Now, that's something now, greenhorn.

- I just took an arrow.

- I can see that.

- Here, hold still.

- No! No!

I ain't gonna hurt you, damn it!

Good thing it weren't in too deep.

- Crow warriors!

- Right on time, huh, shithead?

Yeah! Crow strong warriors.

You ought to stick to stealing horses.

Horse will carry you, at least.

- Did you kill her?

- She damn near killed me.

You got yourself a heap of trouble

is what you done.

Yeah? What was I supposed to do?

Let Cross Otter cut her up for wolf bait?

She's dead, Mr Tyler.

Oh, sh*t.

If you want to run,

show some sense, for Christ's sake!

Run the other way!

Before you know it, Cross Otter will be

back here with a fistful of bloody scalps.

He won't make no bones

about cutting your fine long locks, neither.

Excuse me.

Oh, yeah. Heap of trouble.

How many more will you kill?

We have always fought the Crow.

Not over squaw.

Let the girl go. She means nothing to you.

She is my woman.

You treat her like a coyote b*tch.

It is not the girl for what she is.

It is the long knives...

...the hair-faces...

...more and more of them.

If they are not stopped...

...there will be no food to hunt...

...no lands left for us.

Then why not try

and make peace with them, trade with them?

They spit on our land...

...destroy our buffalo herd...

...trap our beaver.

The hair-face...

...big one...

he opens the path for others.

But he will not have her...

...or one more thing belonging to my people.

You're a Blackfoot, ain't you?

I come from another village.

My father sold me to Heavy Eagle.

One horse, one gun.

- Slave?

- Wife.

- The same.

- Heavy Eagle.

He beat you some, huh?

Where'd you learn American?

Fort McKenzie.

In the summer we trade beaver there.

You learned good.

I go with you.

No.

You go your own way.

I cannot go back to Heavy Eagle.

Hell!

You can come to rendezvous...

...but, looky here,

after that you got to clear out.

I packed a squaw along before.

Six year.

Damnedest slut as ever cried for foofaraw.

Always wanting vermilion...

...and blue beads and mirrors and such.

Bedding down with every buck

that come her way.

She was pretty, though.

- What's your name?

- Running Moon.

You'll clear out if I tell you.

Whisky!

Whisky!

I'm a mountain man, by God!

I can whip any 10 of you n*ggers!

I'm sorry. Mistake. Accident.

I was weaned on rattlesnake blood!

My mammy was a wolf,

and my pa was a gore grizzly!

- $3.

- $3?

God damn it, Fontenelle, you know that

this beaver's worth a heap more than $3.

- This here is prime fur.

- $3.

This here's a $5 plew if there ever was one.

$3 seems fair enough... What are you doing?

$3. I don't go no higher.

You got buffalo robes?

I give you $20 apiece for them.

I never thought I'd see the day

when buffalo brought more than beaver.

You're robbing him blind, Fontenelle.

I never traded cutthroat like that.

Take it while you can, boys.

Next year you may not be able

to sell beaver at all.

The way things are going,

this may be your last rendezvous.

- What d'you mean?

- Silk.

- What's that?

- Silk hats.

They're not making them

out of beaver no more, Bill.

Silk's the fashion now in London.

A heap of fat meat can't shine forever.

- I seen it coming.

- Beaver'll shine again, Henry.

Actually, it seems reasonable

that if there's no demand...

Silk. What the hell is silk?

Don't you know nothing?

Silk. Made out of worms.

Injuns coming! Injuns coming!

- A**hole. Sh*t.

- Blackfeet.

Blackfeet? They found us.

No, them are Crow, for Christ's sake.

Ain't we learned you nothing?

That's Iron Belly's village.

Sure do make a spectacle, don't they?

Who in goddamn is that?

God damn, that's Medicine Wolf!

He come west with me in '23.

We raised hell

from South Forks to Three Pass, we did.

Hey, Medicine Wolf!

Let me through there.

No. Come on, let me through. Here.

Let him through! Let him through!

Let him through!

Medicine Wolf, how the hell are you?

God damn!

Here, old horse, have a drink.

God damn!

Mean as if he had a red-hot poker

up his a**hole.

- Well, listen.

- I'm a mad dog!

Maybe Iron Belly help you.

He knows the beaver like his own children.

Christ, I thought he was dead.

He outlive seven squaws.

Last winter he had a son.

- Say, what the hell is that stuff?

- Kinnikinnick.

- It tastes like buffalo sh*t.

- It is.

- You should've heard him howl!

- Oh, that's good!

- I don't care if it's true or not!

- Iron Belly?

Iron Belly, it's me, Tyler.

- How the hell old is he?

- 110.

Look at that.

That's Spanish armour.

Iron Belly.

Iron Belly, it's Bill Tyler.

- Bill Tyler?

- Yeah. It's me.

- Bill Tyler?

- The same.

I thought you were dead.

He Who Runs With the Wind,

speak your heart.

Beaver's getting mighty scarce, Iron Belly.

That damn Fontenelle's paying

next to nothing for the plews.

- Ought to fight him.

- Outfits are going sky-high.

Vermilion and beads and scalping knives

and such are mighty dear these days.

Some say fur is down for good...

...beaver won't never shine again.

I am old, Bill Tyler.

Beaver gone. Soon I gone, too.

Damn it, Iron Belly,

it can't all be trapped out.

In the mountains of the River of Wind...

...there is a valley.

The Wind River Range?

It's the land of our enemies, the Blackfeet.

Their hearts are bad,

their eyes red with blood.

And it's chock-full of beaver, ain't it?

- Ain't it?

- No.

Has to be.

Blackfeet been keeping

everybody out of there for years.

It must be so full of beaver...

...you don't even have to trap them,

just club them on the bank.

Sure.

Iron Belly.

Higher in the mountains there is a valley.

It is guarded fiercely by the Blackfeet

for there are beaver there...

...as many as the stars in the sky.

You said that already.

Wind Rivers is a big range.

Can you narrow it down some?

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