Once Upon A Time In The Old West

A group of settlers had decided to make their way west from Missouri to strike it rich in the California Gold Rush. Due to number of groups doing so, it became very difficult and expensive to find a top notch trail guide.

Because few of them had ever "ridden the dusty trail" they decided it would be best to get someone who:

- had experience navigating the westward trails.
- had experience in the use of firearms.
- had experience dealing with and communicating with the Native Americans.
- had experience in tracking, hunting, and trapping game.
- had experience with reading the weather patterns.

They went into town and talked to the owner of the local general store. The owner had daily dealings with all sorts of folks. Surely he would be able to steer them in the right direction.

The owner looked at the young men, "Are you sure you boys really want to do this?".

"Yes sir!", they said.

He looked at the green horns again, "How much are you offering?".

The de facto leader Jeb stepped forward and told him, "One hundred dollars is all we can afford after buying our supplies."

The owner shook his head, "That's not much of a budget boys. Tell you what though, I'll ask around and keep my ears open. Come back next week and let's see what happens."

The young men walked out and waited.

One week later, two of them Jeb and Goerge returned. "Any word on finding us a guide sir?", Jeb asked quietly.

The old man looked down, "I couldn't find even an inexperienced guide who would take that paltry sum."

The boys looked down. They started for the door. The old man shouted at them, "Get back here!".

Startled, the boys turned around. The old man said, "I do have a option for you fellows iffin' you want to gamble a little bit." He continued on, "I know an old Indian feller. He's a bit of a drunk, but he's the sharpest guy I've ever seen when it comes to long trips out into the wilderness. He's getting up there in years and his health ain't so good, but he might be willing to take the money and guide you."

Doubt crossed the young men's faces. George spoke up, "I'm not sure a drunkard is a good idea for this venture. We need reliability.". The old man came right back with, "At fifty bucks, you're not going to find much else.". Jeb new the old man was right, "We'll take him if he'll take the job!".

The deal was done.

Two weeks later the group of 15 men and their Indian guide set out. Things went well the first week. The guide stayed sober, the weather cooperated, and everybody was getting along beautifully.

On day eight, a flock of hawks passed overhead. The old Indian stopped the caravan. He got off his horse and kissed the ground. He looked to the men and said, "We stop here now. Rains come.". The day was perfect. Not a cloud in the sky. The men began to argue with him. The Indian would have none of it. He broke out a bottle of rye whisky. After much objecting, the men sullenly broke out the gear and made camp.

One hour later a massive thunderstorm hit. Jeb looked at George, "Well he was right on this. We would have had a terrible time setting up the camp in this weather.". George was worried about the booze, "What if he goes on a bender? We'll be out here on our own without a guide.". Jeb looked over at George and said, "If the booze keeps him happy, I'm happy. He's a good feller and he's kept us safe so far."

George just muttered under his breath and laid back down to rest.

The next day the sun had returned. In the next month and a half they had covered many miles. The old Indian guide had taken them through some hostile territories without a scratch. One day, just after breaking camp, the group was startled by a howling wolf. The old Indian guide jumped off his horse, turned to the direction the noise came from, and studied the blowing prairie. He kneeled down and kissed the ground. He turned to the group, "We must get warm clothes out now. Cold weather come.". It was nearly 80 degrees. The men were sweating. George, already pissed about the nightly drinking looked down and said, "You must be CRAZY! Have you been in the bottle this morning?" The old guide said nothing, donned a heavy coat, set up his tent and started drinking.

There would be no further discussion or travels that day.

The cold weather set in. They had to make a long term camp. The winds were relentless, the days frigid, the nights almost unbearable. Two weeks passed. The weather subsided. They had gone through quite a bit of food. They would have to hunt as they went to subsidize their larder.

The next day they were on the move. Suddenly the old guide jumped off his horse and placed his cheek on the ground. He leaned down and then kissed the spot. Jumping back on his horse he told the group, "Get guns ready, rabbits come." George, already just about stressed out, asked, "How in the Hell can he know that? I'm telling you this guy is gonna be the death of all of...". He stopped his rant. Rabbits were flying across the ground at break neck speed. The men were shooting at them as if they were on the attack.

Rabbit never tasted so good.

Weeks passed. The old guide would occasionally stop the group, announce the next sign from nature and sure enough, he was right every time.

Nearing the end of the trip they were very low on food. Even the prairie hardened old Indian guide was getting weak. There was nothing around but desert. No trees, no water, nothing but scrub brush and pain. They had made only five miles that day when suddenly they heard an eagle screech. The old guide looked to the sky, threw his arms up, jumped to the ground, and kissed it.

Having watched the man over the months the men got excited. "What is it, what is it?", they said over and over again. The old guide kissed the ground again. Now the men were perplexed. They'd not seen him do this before. The group pulled way back. The old Indian jumped to his feet, waved his fists to the sky, let out a blood curdling Indian yell, and downed an entire fifth of rye whisky in one tremendous gulp.

Jeb was shocked. He walked over to the guide and asked if he was okay. The Indian guide nodded his head and gasped out, "Buffalo come.". Jeb started dancing for joy. He yelled back to the men, "Buffalo come!!!!!!". The old Indian started spitting on the ground.

George yelled back, "How does he know??????????".

Jeb leaned into the now bent over Indian, took a step or two back, turned and yelled back,
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."He says get drunk and suck off one buffalo, you'll never forget the taste!".

Air Traffic Mike