Just Yarnin' Chapter 3: Putrifications
“Yep,” drawled Solitaire as he sucked on his pipe, “I heared old Colter was a tough biscuit.”
“Ain’t been none tougher since,” Parfleche stated matter of factly.
The two had dug out some jerk they stashed away and were tearing off bits. The kettle of water they had placed in the fire was now boiling and ready for coffee. Solitaire stiffly rose to attend to the kettle and prepared the coffee.
After a few minutes of silence, Solitaire spoke up. “You know, Parfleche, that talk o’ Colter’s Hell got me thinkin. See I been all up and down these har’ mountains and seen about ever’ nook an’ cranny. Been from the Gila up past the Marias and ever’ whar’ in between. Seen them missions out in Californy’ an’ them Injuns that lived down in the Taos. Yes sir-e, I been ever’ whar ceptn’ one place in particular.”
Parfleche looked up with surprise in his eyes. “I knowed you ta’ blow ‘round like a cottonwood leaf in a big norther. What place ain’t you seen yet?”
“That putrefied forest ‘em coons seen once out in the Black Hills,” Solitaire stated as if Parfleche should have known.
“Ha! Thar’ ain’t no putrefied forest!” Parfleche exclaimed. “Them boys was yarnin’ an’ carryin’ on is all. I thought you was a child that knowed fat cow from old bull.”
“This child can shore nuff read a trail! Wagh!” Solitaire fired back. “Harris hisself showed me the putrification he taked from it. He telled me the story too. See, it goed like this.
“Old Harris, filthy liar he was, was ridin’ and huntin fur in the Black Hills. It was the dead of winter and the snow was deep. Said the froze buffler was scatterd obout like pinecones scatter round the forest. It was so awful cold, them boys was gettin’ ready to start in on thar’ hosses an’ mules.
“Fore long though, they gets lucky and finds this valley looking like late spring. Grass is green, birds is singin’, and looks ever’ bit like a piece of heaven, ifn’ thar is such a place.
“Anyhow, them boys turnt the stock loose ta’ graze and goes to makin’ some meat fore thar meat bags was awful empty. Ol’ Harris, he drawed down on a singing bird and drops the hammer. His ball flies true as it most often do, and off comes that little birds head. Problem was, when they goes up ta’ get it, that bird was still singing and twas’ made of stone!
“About that time he looks over an’ seen one ol’ boy getting’ ready to cut some wood for the fire. As he drives that axe into the tree sparks go flying all around the air. Dern near broke the axe! Ha!
“Twas then these fellers get to doing some looking around. Turns out all the trees was putrified and all the birds too. The hosses wasn’t even eatin that green grass. Turnt out even the grass was stone too! To think, they thinks they find paradise in this har’ valley and come to find nothin’ but putrifications.”
Parfleche interrupted, “ How’d they knowed it was putrifications? Harris can read sign, but can’t read no putrification I don’t imagine.”
“Well now, I was jist getting’ to that” Solitaire continued. “So them boys was awful confused at that point. Harris decides to take the edge off his knife by chipping out some putrified tree. After a while he breaks off a bit and drops ‘er in his possibles.
“Wasn’t too many moons and he happened into Fort Laramie. These boys come wandern’ in all gaunted up. Happened to run into Captain Stewart, who happened to have a doctor of sorts along. Well, Harris figures that man got hisself some education and shows him this rock he dug from the tree. Doctor boy takes a look at it, and right off says, ‘That’s putrification,’ and hands it back. Wasn’t long after I runs into Harris and he shows me the rock and tells the story. Now I knowed Harris is a liar if thar ever was one, but he showed that putrificaiton right to me. I mean to tell ye’, Parfleche, I held it in my own hand.”
“Whul than whar’ was this putrified forest?” Parfleche asked suspiciously.
“I told ye I ain’t never seen it myself. Don’t yer’ ears work even this close?” Solitaire barked. “Alls he said was they found it in the Black Hills and it was the purdiest place he ever did see.”
“Ifn’ he ever did see it,” quipped Parfleche.
Solitaire let out a sigh. “I swear, I wouldn’t be surprised ifn’ yer head was putrified you, old pilgrim.”
Chapter 4: Hosses’
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