“Dominique’s brother is Louis Cattoire, king of the putains. He’s going too, if we pry him and his andouille out of the whore’s tent. We call Louis ‘La Vierge.’” The men around the table laughed.
“Which brings me to you. They’re rowing upriver, so they need to travel light. “They need a hunter to provide meat for the camp. I suspect you are pretty good at finding food. Probably even better once we get you a rifle.”
Glass nodded his head in response.
“There’s another reason our deputation can use an extra rifle,” continued Kiowa. “Dominique heard rumors that an Arikara chief named Elk’s Tongue has broken away from the main tribe. He’s leading a small band of warriors and their families somewhere between Mandan and the Grand. We don’t know where they’re at, but he’s vowed to avenge the attack on the Ree village.
Glass thought about the blackened remnants of the Arikara village and nodded in response.
“Are you in?”
Part of Glass did not want the encumbrance of fellow travelers. His plan had been to make his way up the Missouri alone, on foot. He intended to leave that day, and hated the idea of waiting. Still, he recognized the opportunity. Numbers meant safety, if the men were any good. The men of Kiowa’s deputation seemed seasoned, and Glass knew there were no finer boatmen than the scrappy voyageurs. He also knew that his body was still healing, and his progress would be slow if he walked. Paddling the bâtard upstream would be slow too. But riding while the others paddled would give him another month to mend.
Glass put his hand to his throat. “I’m in.”
Langevin said something to Kiowa in French. Kiowa listened and then turned to Glass. “Langevin says he needs today to make repairs to the bâtard. You’ll leave tomorrow at dawn. Eat some food and then let’s get you provisioned.”
Kiowa kept his wares along a wall at the far end of the cabin. A plank over two empty barrels served as the counter. Glass focused first on a long arm. There were five weapons to choose from. Three were rusted northwest muskets of ancient vintage, clearly meant for trade with the Indians. Between the two rifles, the choice at first seemed obvious. One was a classic Kentucky long rifle, beautifully crafted with a burnished walnut finish. The other was a weathered Model 1803 U.S. Infantry rifle whose stock had been broken and repaired with rawhide. Glass picked up the two rifles and carried them outside, accompanied by Kiowa. Glass had an important decision to make, and he wanted to examine the weapons in full light.
Kiowa looked on expectantly as Glass examined the long Kentucky rifle. “That’s a beautiful weapon,” said Kiowa. “The Germans can’t cook for shit but they know how to make a gun.”
Glass agreed. He had always admired the elegant lines of Kentucky rifles. But there were two problems. First, Glass noticed with disappointment the rifle’s small caliber, which he correctly gauged as .32. Second, the gun’s great length made it heavy to carry and cumbersome to load. This was an ideal gun for a gentleman farmer, squirrel hunting in Virginia. Glass needed something different.
He handed the Kentucky rifle to Kiowa and picked up the Model 1803, the same gun carried by many of the soldiers in Lewis and Clark’s Corps of Discovery. Glass first examined the repair work on the broken stock. Wet rawhide had been tightly stitched around the break, then allowed to dry. The rawhide had hardened and shrunk as it dried, creating a rock-sturdy cast. The stock was ugly, but it felt solid. Next Glass examined the lock and trigger works. There was fresh grease and no sign of rust. He ran his hand slowly down the half stock, then continued the length of the short barrel. He put his finger into the fat hole of the muzzle, noting approvingly the heft of its .53 caliber.
“You like the big gun, eh?” Glass nodded in reply.
“A big gun is good,” said Kiowa. “Give it a try.” Kiowa smiled wryly. “Gun like that, you could kill a bear!”
Kiowa handed Glass a powder horn and a measure. Glass poured a full charge of 200 grains and dumped it into the muzzle. Kiowa handed him a big .53 ball and a greased patch from his vest pocket. Glass wrapped the ball in the patch and tapped it into the muzzle. He pulled out the ramrod and set the ball firmly in the breech. He poured powder in the pan and pulled the hammer to full cock, searching for a target.
Fifty yards away a squirrel sat placidly in the crotch of a big cottonwood.
Glass sighted on the squirrel and pulled the trigger. The briefest of instants separated the ignition in the pan and the primary explosion deep in the barrel. Smoke filled the air, momentarily obscuring the target from sight. Glass winced at the stiff punch of the recoil against his shoulder.
As the smoke cleared, Kiowa ambled slowly to the foot of the cottonwood. He stooped to pick up the tattered remains of the squirrel, which now consisted of very little beyond a bushy tail. He walked back to Glass and tossed the tail at Glass’s feet. “I think that gun is not so good for squirrels.”
This time Glass smiled back. “I’ll take it.”
They returned to the cabin and Glass picked out the rest of his supplies. He chose a .53 pistol to complement the rifle. A ball mold, lead, powder, and flints. A tomahawk and a large skinning knife. A thick leather belt to hold his weapons. Two red cotton shirts to wear beneath the doeskin tunic. A large Hudson’s Bay capote. A wool cap and mittens. Five pounds of salt and three pigtails of tobacco. Needle and thread. Cordage. To carry his newfound bounty, he picked a fringed leather possibles bag with intricate quill beading. He noticed that the voyageurs all wore small sacks at the waist for their pipe and tobacco. He took one of those too, a handy spot for his new flint and steel.
When Glass finished, he felt rich as a king. After six weeks with nothing but the clothes on his back, Glass felt immensely prepared for whatever battles lay before him. Kiowa calculated the bill, which totaled one hundred twenty-five dollars. Glass wrote a note to William Ashley:
October 10, 1823
Dear Mr. Ashley:
My kit was stolen by two men of our brigade with whom I will settle my own account. Mr. Brazeau has extended me credit against the name of the Rocky Mountain Fur Co. I have taken the liberty of advancing the attached goods against my pay. I intend to recover my property and I pledge to repay my debt to you.
Your most obedient servant,
Hugh Glass
“I’ll send your letter with the invoice,” said Kiowa.
Glass ate a hearty dinner that evening with Kiowa and four of his five new companions. The fifth, Louis “La Vierge” Cattoire, had yet to emerge from the whore’s tent. His brother Dominique reported that La Vierge had alternated between bouts of inebriation and fornication since the moment of their arrival at Fort Brazeau. Except when it directly involved Glass, the voyageurs did most of their talking in French. Glass recognized scattered words and phrases from his time on Campeche, though not enough to follow the conversation.