Page 36 of Sure as Shooting

Chapter Fifteen

March 1851

“It is not easy to describe in words.”

Whit’s face was glassy, his lower lip hanging.

Belle had never been prouder than at this very moment. Her chest was literally fit to bust with pride, as she alone had led them to this point on Mt. Beatitude. Their company had come on foot to this “devil of a place,” finding the towering cathedral spires that signaled an opening to the valley floor below.

She was more than repaid now, standing on the lip of Mt. Beatitude’s point, abreast with Huntley, who looked upon the grandeur below stoically. Whit seemed about to faint in awe.

The battalion had already taken to calling Whit “Yosemity” due to his enthusiasm for its natural wonders, and this seemed to shame Whit into silence. But now his silence was due more to a reverence that threatened to render him catatonic.

Huntley asked, “What do you want to name the valley? We’ve agreed to let you name it, since you’re by far the most awestruck of any of us.”

Whit didn’t appear to hear Huntley but stepped even closer to the edge of the precipice. Belle estimated the floor below to be at least a two thousand foot sheer drop, so she moved closer to Whit, seeing that his eyes were laden with unshed tears. A gossamer haze filled the valley, and heavy gray rainclouds dimmed the higher peaks of the view, but that only increased the grandeur spread out before them. Shadowed by the setting sun was the most majestic cliff face of all on the opposite side of the valley, a solid granite spire rising vertically from the snowy trees that cradled its base. Indians had named this pinnacle Totaukons after the cranes that made nests in a meadow near the crest. Half a mile across the valley floor from that monolith were the towering cathedral-like peaks Belle had mentioned to Huntley so long ago. From the granite lip of these tumbled a lacey waterfall that disappeared a thousand feet below in a torrent of foam wafted by the breeze. It truly was the most wondrous vista Belle had ever beheld.

“See Yosemite and die,” uttered Whit. “I can’t attempt to describe it. These stupendous walls confuse my mind.”

Huntley smiled. “You wish to call it Yosemite? I expected to see some terrible abyss, from the descriptions of the Indians.”

“Yes,” said Belle. “Now you know why they tried to keep us away for so long.”

“Doc,” Huntley called in a more forceful tone, but the physician didn’t flinch a muscle. “You’d better wake up from your dream there, or you may lose your hair. I have no faith in Tenaya’s opinion there are no Indians about here.”

Huntley and Belle looked at each other and shrugged. They moved away from the cliff’s edge, Huntley saying, “We’d best hunt up the Grizzlies before we go back to camp for the night. We’ll have plenty of time to look around this hole later.”

“You’re not impressed by the glory of this view?”

With his back to the grandest valley on earth, Huntley pursed his lips skeptically. “I’ve spent decades hauling myself across this grand continent. I’m exhausted, Belle. I’m getting of an age where the attractions of a hot fireplace and a warm bed impress me more than anything else.”

“Yes. After spending an entire year sleeping on blankets of rabbit and squirrel, I see your point of view. We should make a move to the valley floor tomorrow, but be careful not to flush our game before we get within rifle-shot.”

Huntley nodded. “I’ll caution the guards to be vigilant. The Grizzly scouts may visit us tonight to stampede our horses.”

Earlier that day they had come upon a deserted Grizzly encampment where the body of José Juarez had been laid out, cold as a wagon tire. It was curious how the body had been left in the open when the usual ceremony was to burn the dead upon a pyre. Huntley said that the other Grizzlies had become fed up with Juarez’s ways. If they failed to burn the body, the poor spirit would hover about for eternity, to the irritation of friends as well as enemies.

Suddenly from behind them came Whit’s voice, alert and tickled to death. Belle had never seen such a beatific expression on his face. “I’ve seen the power of a supreme being. The majesty of his handiwork is in that ‘testimony of the rocks’ over there.” He gestured at the towering monolith. “That rock is the captain of them all. I’ve entered God’s holiest chapel. The valley illustrates that with more eloquence than any priestly harangue.”

Belle and Huntley indulgently regarded their addled friend for a few moments. Belle took his arm and laid her head on his shoulder.

Huntley said, “You’re soaring too high for me, Doc, and for yourself as well. We’d best pay attention to this trail, or we’ll go soaring over these slippery cliffs.”

* * * *

Two days later, the company was securely on the valley floor, riding upriver along the shores of the Merced.

To guard against an unpleasant surprise, Belle and Huntley had agreed to keep scouts in advance and upon their flank. Belle rode abreast of Huntley as several men unintentionally “washed their laundry” in the river. At first this was cause for great hilarity every time a man took a swim, but as icicles formed on the brims of their hats, the boys began to snarl and holler at each other.

Belle was lost in her own chapel of holiness. She felt as though she could ride forever through this frozen white wonderland like a lost girl wandering in a fairy tale under pine boughs heavy with snow. She focused on her campaign’s goal, but her thoughts kept returning to her most recent images—inhaling Huntley’s beautiful prick while Whit impaled him on that monstrous penis. She had committed that act several times with her French beau before her marriage and it had always stimulated her, but that paled in comparison to the fulfilling sensation of sucking on Huntley’s admirable cock.

It must have been the depravity of having another man’s penis up his ass, but Huntley had barely been able to contain his seed before erupting in her mouth. And the bulk of his load! Belle giggled to herself as she rode along on her horse. His explosion had been so forceful the semen had spurted from her nose. She looked from side to side, wondering if any of the “boys” were guessing her thoughts.

She wondered how she would deal with her brother Bud. While he might look favorably upon her gallivanting about with the major, Bud’s recent accusation that Whit was a lowly red man snake didn’t sit well with Belle. She had no intention in the world of ceasing her relationship with Whit. He was an educated, intelligent, worldly, and gracious man, and already her emotions for him ran deeper than her feelings for her dead husband. Was this “being in love”? She had imagined she was in love with Ned, of course. She never would have married for convenience, just to get out of Pike County, Missouri. But her feelings for Whit were more powerful and compelling.

She reminisced about how domineering he was when he whacked Huntley—his superior!—on the ass. She was thinking about his bullish force when she heard Whit call for the rear guard to follow him across an upper crossing.

She turned to Huntley. “I don’t think Whit should be crossing there. The opposite bank looks awful green and slippery.”