Category: Vastness of Reality Page 1 of 4

Word Count: 15,962

It was in the middle of the summer of 1876 when we received word gold was discovered in the Black Hills of South Dakota. I was currently in St. Louis, Missouri getting supplies for a journey to Nevada after a failed gold hunting expedition in the Smoky Mountains. There I hoped to strike it rich along with four other prospectors. We missed the big Virginia City gold rush by decades, but the land we were going to purchase was rather remote and no one ever tried mining it as far as we knew. 

Three of us, Maurice, Jonathan and I, sat having drinks in a cheap pub discussing the trip we were about to embark. The dark, windowless pub was illuminated by only a few lamps burning animal fat. This created a massive buildup of soot on the ceiling and the posts helping hold the ceiling aloft. It also produced a pungent smoke that slightly stung the nostrils for the first half hour of exposure. 

 Jonathan and I met when we were a few years short of being teenage boys. Since then, we did almost everything together. Our previous expeditions cost us more money than they earned us, and this was going to be our last attempt. 

Maurice was a large Frenchman who was heafty in stature with a bushy brown beard. For the last decade, Maurice worked as a trapper along the banks of the Mississippi river, and he was looking for that big score that would allow him to finally retire from his difficult profession. Although we planned this trip almost a year ago, Maurice was not a welcomed member of the group until a month ago. 

Arden, who Jonathan and I met during our last expedition came into the pub that night and informed us someone struck gold in South Dakota. The four of us discussed this new development until the fifth member, O’Doyle arrived, and we continued talking until we were ejected from the dank pub. 

The five of us continued to talk about this new opportunity as we walked along the empty dirt road to the neighborhood in which we all lived. Jonathan, Arden and I were currently renting a small apartment and Maurice and O’Doyle both rented rooms at a boarding house a little further to the edge of town. 

We had this expedition all planned out, but Arden insisted his source was one hundred percent reliable. We discussed it much over the next few days. The trip would be about the same length of time, we would just be heading north-west instead of south-west. The big problem here was Arden knew his way across to Arizona, but he did not know the landmarks traveling through Iowa and Nebraska to get to South Dakota. 

Making our way to Omaha City should not present too much of a challenge for us. We were going to pass multiple settlements, towns and outposts along the way. It would not be until we set out from Omaha City that we would be traveling in extremely unfamiliar terrain. Our hope was to retain the services of a guide to get us to the Black Hills. 

We all knew it was a terrible gamble, but we ultimately decided to make the journey to South Dakota to get in on the gold rush early. If we could get there and stake a claim before people from around the country showed up to try to make their fortune, we would have a much higher chance of striking it rich. Each one of us could stake a claim then we could work them together. 

When we set out from St. Louis, we were in three wagons. Although we still needed to procure more mining equipment, we decided to wait until we reached St. Joseph. That was far enough from any mining operations to keep the prices of the equipment to a minimum. It may take a bit of shopping around to find everything we needed, but it should save us money in the long run. 

By our estimates, the journey should take us approximately eighty days to complete. I just about had enough of living on the road, and if we did not strike gold this time, I did not know what I was going to do. All I ever did was small jobs here and there to fund my mining expeditions. If I did not find gold this time, I did not think I would ever find it. 

The four-week trip to St. Joseph went by with little trouble. Other than reshoeing our horses, and a few minor repairs to O’Doyle’s wagon, we made it to our first major destination without notable incident. We passed through several small towns and outposts along the way, and we were a bit taken aback by the size of St. Joseph. All of us were under the impression the city had a population no larger than several hundred. Instead, we found it boasted a population of several thousand. 

It did not take us as long as we anticipated to gather the remaining mining supplies we needed, or at least those we could afford. It was only mid-afternoon by the time we procured the pickaxes, sifters and so on to complete our collection of gear. Upon purchasing the items we needed, there was no money left to hire a guide. We would have to rely on maps and our own skills to get us to where we were going.

It would have been nice to stay in a hotel and take a hot bath, but any hotel within our price range was full. We decided instead to continue on our journey and sleep in the wagons or on the ground as we had thus far. Every day we delayed was another day someone might discover the gold we were supposed to find. 

The next stretch of our journey was to Patterson Mill, Iowa where we would cross the Missouri River into Nebraska. None of us knew very much about the state of Nebraska. Most of us spent our time in the southern states and in mountainous regions. I always heard people speak of The Great Plains of America, so I think we were all anticipating finding an endless flat land filled with grass and flowers. 

When we reached Omaha City, seven weeks after setting off from St. Louis, we found a land sparsely covered with trees and filled with grass-filled meadows that seemed to dance in the moderate winds. Many young trees, planted no more than a decade ago, hinted at what might one day become a beautiful forest. 

We were no more than a third of the way into Nebraska when the land became much hillier than on the eastern side of the state. These hills quickly became nothing more than endless sand dunes covered in sparse vegetation. Several times we had to backtrack because we hit an impassable gorge costing us more than a week. A guide for this area would be a great benefit, but we simply could not afford to retain someone for such purposes. 

After many frustrating days, we found what appeared to be a road working its way through and around the large dunes that covered the landscape. We thought we were dead for sure when we rounded a hill to find ourselves face to face with a camp of Indians. None of us had many dealings with Indians up close and personal. Maurice was the only one with any experience dealing with the native savages. 

We had no idea what tribe these men were from, so Maurice first greeted them in English hoping they would understand. Maurice, who spoke five languages of which I was aware, then greeted them in two native tongues with which he was fluent. They did not seem to react much to this either. Finally, Maurice greeted them in French. To our shock, the eldest of the group responded. 

Maurice relayed to us these men had no intention of harming us, and even invited us to join them for the evening. Because the sun was beginning to set behind the scantly vegetated hills, we gladly accepted their invitation. Since there were virtually no trees in this region at all, the Indians gathered a heap of dead and dry plants. Their woody stalks would provide fuel for a campfire for the night. 

Maurice and the Indian elder were the only two able to communicate with the other, which caused a bit of frustration in the rest of us. It was easy to become irritated waiting for Maurice to tell us what the elder said. Maurice explained to the Indian man we were going to push our course to the north and head for the Black Hills. 

The old man stood up and began saying something rather urgently. Even though I could not understand what he was saying, the countenance of the man’s face told me he was showing great concern. The man continued for several minutes before he stopped. Maurice began to reply but I demanded he tell us what the man said first. 

Maurice explained that the man said if we went where we planned to go, we would not all make it there alive. He said the spirit of the wind told him it was bringing in an early winter storm that would cover that whole region in snow. The elder told us to go back and wait for winter to pass before trying to complete our journey. 

There was simply no way we could do that. We had no money left to house ourselves, our wagons and our horses for six months. I heard these people thought they were in touch with the elements and what not, but I had no intention of changing our plans because some savage thought the wind was talking to him. I, along with the others, voiced the same basic opinion on the matter. 

I was not really sure what Maurice said to the man. He told us he was going to tell him thanks and we would take it under advisement. 

We shared some of our food with them, and they shared some of their food with us. They were not the bloodthirsty barbarians the stories always made them out to be. Even though we were not able to communicate with words, we still did a good job figuring out what the others were trying to convey through movements and facial expressions. 

Eventually we all laid down for the night. To be honest, I was a bit worried the Indians would kill us in our sleep and take our stuff. After a while my sleepiness dominated my fear enough to let me drift off into a slumber. 

I awoke the next morning as the sun was first beginning to rise. Arden and three of the Indians were already awake. By the time the sun fully rose above the horizon, everyone else was awake as well. Maurice talked to the elder for a bit longer before we finally parted ways and went our separate directions. 

Maurice explained to the rest of us what the elder told him. From what he was able to discern, the elder was convinced an early winter storm was going to cover the entire region which we intended to enter. The Indian was adamant that most if not all of us would die if we insisted on heading that direction. 

The elder already knew we were not going to heed his warning, so he told us to keep our course as directly north from here as possible. That would keep us east of the heaviest part of the storm. It might keep us on the east side of the snowfall, but that would also have us entering South Dakota much further to the east of our destination than we wanted. 

O’Doyle was the superstitious sort, and he thought we should listen to that old Indian man. He was convinced these people knew more about how nature worked than we did, and we should heed the man’s warning. 

Arden, Jonathan and I all thought it was a part of the old man’s imagination. These people had this notion they were more in touch with the earth than other people, but they were only people. They were no more in touch with the world than anyone else. Regardless, O’Doyle thought we should take the advice to heart. After much discussion, we decided to continue about our way. It was only September, and it was difficult for us to believe there was any possibility of snow in the near future. 

This state was a very difficult one to transverse indeed. There were no rivers running north to south for us to follow. The only rivers that split through the sandy dunes ran from west to east. After having to backtrack yet again several more times, we decided to start having two people riding ahead making sure our routes did not end up in dead ends. 

Transversing the Sand Hills proved more difficult than crossing most mountain ranges. Deep gullies cut between many of the hills leaving soft sandstone trenches winding through the dunes. Trapped between many of the sandy hills were narrow but deep ponds. We found some to contain salt water and some to contain fresh. It was almost impossible to tell without tasting it first. 

The vegetation provided enough food for the horses at least. If nothing else, we had that going for us. There were many plants here with which none of us were familiar, so we took our chances and allowed the horses to choose their own meal. To our fortune, the plants they chose were not poisonous. We tried to pay attention to what they did and did not eat for future’s reference. 

Game was common enough to provide us with meat to compliment the dry beans and rice we brought with us in bulk. Unsure of what we faced, we loaded all three wagons with beans and rice to ensure we would have enough food. Finding water became a worry as we encountered no rain since entering the Sandhill region. Fortunately for us the multitude of ponds provided plenty of water with which to cook our food. 

Three weeks after meeting those Indian fellows, the light steady wind that blew across the area at least since we entered began to pick up. It only took one day to go from a soft wind to actually blowing things out of our wagons. More than once we had to stop to fasten something down or try to use heavier items to keep the lighter items from blowing away. 

The wind berated us like this for three days before it finally came to a brief end. I thought I might go insane if I was to have to endure that kind of wind for any length of time. Tolerating it for a few days was enough to annoy and irritate all of us as we tried to make our way through the plant spotted dunes. We all began to regret our entire decision to try to get a jump on the Black Hills gold rush. 

That evening, the temperature began to drop, and it began to drop rapidly. Without a sun in the sky, the weather quickly turned very cold. Since our original estimation placed us in the Black Hills shortly before winter, we did have sufficient clothing to protect us from this cold. We kept as many blankets as we could on our horses. No one particularly wanted to use their own blankets on the beasts of burden, but we had to protect them from this incredibly abrupt cold snap as they had not had time to grow in their winter coats. 

Keeping a fire burning through the night could possibly mean the difference between life and death, but if the winds picked back up the cinders could be blown everywhere. Finding some flat stones, we buried them straight up in a circle and placed a larger rock on top of that. Inside of this we built our fire. It would help keep the wind from blowing away the coals and stop the wind from exhausting our fuel too quickly. 

Temperatures fell below freezing during the night as was made evident by the frost on the ground and the thin sheet of ice covering the pond by which we set up our camp. The morning was not any better. Every word and every breath out of our mouths were visible in the frigid air. A bright sunny day would help to warm things up a bit, but I began to worry when I saw scattered clouds in the distance. The wind was blowing them in our direction. 

Perhaps we should have heeded the warning of that Indian elder. It was hard for us to believe it would actually snow on us here at the beginning of October, but now his warning continued to play in my head over and over. Maurice told us the man said one or all of us would die if we did not heed his warning. 

Why did we not listen to him? 

As the morning progressed, the sun did help warm the air a bit. Unfortunately, the same wind began to pick back up. What the sun did to warm the air, the wind did the opposite and made it colder. I did a lot of traveling in my life, and I believed this had to be the harshest terrain I ever encountered. 

Two days later the snow began. No light snow fell to announce its coming. Instead, when the flakes began to fall, they began to fall heavily. The large clumps of snowflakes quickly coated the ground making it difficult to locate rocks and small ruts cut out by the rare rainfalls that hit the area. Within the first few hours of the snowfall, the clouds released more than a foot of snow from the sky. Now it was even difficult to see some of the larger gullies as they began to fill with snow. 

We had no means of keeping the horses warm enough, even using our blankets to cover them. Two more days after the snow began, one of Maurice’s horses died from exposure. The unfortunate animals did not have a change of seasons when they would normally grow in their winter coat. The weather went from early autumn to the dead of winter in less than a week’s time. 

Neither of my horses could get up the next morning. I tried rubbing them with my hands to warm them up, but it was to no avail. I could not get the beasts to move. It was only a matter of time before the other three horses froze to death. Given the depth of the snow, we knew there was no possibility of pulling wagons through it.

I decided to put my horses out of their misery before they froze to death. Their hind quarters we removed to take with us for meat as none of us knew what hunting would be like in this unforgiving weather. We decided to allow the other three horses to go free in hopes they might find somewhere to survive this onslaught of icy white powder. 

We all donned as much clothing as we could and took what few supplies we could with us. We were going to have to set out on foot and pray we found an outpost, a cabin, anything. Without shelter we were not going to survive for long out here. Since we anticipated a lot of hiking once we reached the Black Hills, all five of us had backpacks in the wagons, so we were able to carry some food, canvass for makeshift tents, and whatever else we could carry. Our clothing was adequate to keep us warm as we were moving, but we quickly grew cold when standing still or resting. 

In less than twenty-four hours following the release of the remaining horses, the clouds dumped almost three feet of snow on us. It was packing as it accumulated, so we were walking on and not through most of it. For the next several days the snow continued to fall. We knew if we did not find or fabricate a structure of some sort to protect us from the blistering wind, we would find the old Indian man was correct in his predictions. 

Eventually Arden called out to us that he located a place where we may be able to hunker down and try to allow this snow to pass. When the rest of us reached Arden’s location, we saw he located a gorge that seemed to be protected from both the wind and the snow. It was not very wide, and looked as if it would provide a large measure of difficulty. Arden, being the tall, skinny fellow he was offered to go down first. 

There was nowhere to drive a spike into the ground to which we could secure a rope since all the stone around here was sandstone. We simply did not think the soft stone would hold the weight of one man, much less five. Instead, we found the top of a small cedar tree protruding from the white surface. After digging down into the snow so as to allow us to tie the rope as close to the base of the tree as we could, we gave it several firm tugs to make sure the rope would not slip, and then Arden began his descent down the steep slope into the gorge. 

We lowered Arden’s backpack down to him before O’Doyle began his climb down the steep crevasse. We got his backpack lowered down and, one after another, we made our way down into the gorge. I was the last one to make his way into the small snowless canyon, and by the time I arrived the others already began to construct a crude structure from canvass, rope, snow and rocks. It was not much, and it was crowded, but it would at least allow us to stay out of the snow and wind for the night. 

Our meager shelter did allow us room for a little fire. It would do little to provide any warmth for our cold bodies, but we could at least cut the horse meat into strips and cook it over the flame. The slanted canvass roof allowed the smoke to rise and exit our makeshift tent and prevented the damp plants from choking us out. 

For three days the five of us stayed hidden in that cramped area as we waited for the snowfall to finally come to an end. We emerged from our shelter that morning to see the sun shining brightly in the morning sky. That was the first time we saw the sun directly with our own eyes for nearly two weeks, and its warming rays felt heavenly against the small amount of exposed skin on my face. I never thought I was going to feel that soothing sensation ever again. 

Now we were faced with getting back out of the gorge. Maurice thought there might be an easier way back up the steep slope if we followed the canyon a little further, but doing so would me we would have to push our way through the snow that accumulated in the rest of this ravine. He offered to walk ahead at least around the next bend while the rest of us got our backpacks ready to go. 

Fifteen minutes passed after we lost sight of Maurice, and we began to wonder if he may have fallen. We did not want to shout for fear of loosening the snow teetering over the edges above, so all we could do was wait. A few minutes later we saw our large French companion emerge from behind the gorge wall. It took him another fifteen minutes before he made it back to us. 

We were all disappointed when he told us there was nothing but a dead end in that direction. We were going to have to climb back out that narrow gouge in the sandstone and continue our journey from there. A lot of snow accumulated on top of our rope and hung over the sides of the gorge. The valley by which we entered was also capped in snow. It would not be safe to climb until that snow was gone, so once we were safely backed away Jonathan fired a round into the snow on both sides. The bullets did little, but the loud blast from the rifle made everything come falling into the crevasse. 

Climbing up the loosened snow was not as difficult as I anticipated as it was heavy and densely packed. We ascended the same way we came down, one person at a time. Maurice came up last so the rest of us could pack the snow down even more to support his large frame. It took us more than an hour to get everyone and their packs out of the gorge, but we eventually made it back to the top. 

Since we did not know if there were any towns or settlements around here, or for that matter where we even were, we continued to head to the northwest. We were fortunate the next few days as the temperature rose slightly, the sun was shining brightly during the day, and the wind was blowing very lightly. 

Travel through the snow-covered Sand Hills was beyond difficult to say the least, but two important things we had to survive were food and a means of creating fire. We still had our beans and rice, but consuming the horse meat we brought with us first would keep the meat from spoiling beyond the point of being usable. 

Five days after leaving behind the gorge that sheltered us for several days, we came around a small valley to find our only option was to climb a moderately steep incline in order to proceed. There was no way of us discerning how much snow was built up on the slope until we began to make our way up the rise. 

I made my way up the hill first, using a stick I acquired along the way to test the depth and pack of the snow. I could not tell how deep the snow was, as it was up to my waist, and I was still not touching solid ground. O’Doyle waited until I was fifty feet ahead of him and then he began to follow my path, widening it as he did. 

We thought we were topping a hill, but the other side of this dune had an eighty-degree slope. We did not have the climbing gear necessary, not since abandoning our wagons, to make that kind of a climb. The only choice we had was to follow the ridge where it adjoined a red sandstone outcropping a few hundred feet from our current location. 

Continuing to work together to help build a walking path for those behind us, we took turns taking the lead so no one man bore the burden the entire time. When we finally reached the large sandstone bluffs one whole side of it was completely free of snow. We took this opportunity to rest and sun ourselves on the rocks for at least a brief time. 

Arden decided he was going to walk around the bluffs a bit to see what he might find. Less than five minutes later we heard him begin to scream. The other four of us jumped to our feet to run and see what was happening, all of us with a firearm in our hands. Rounding a large formation in the bluffs, we realized we were not the only ones sunning ourselves on the rocks. Arden was running from a large black bear who made a small nearby cavern its home. 

We did not even have time to aim our weapons before the bear lunged at Arden. Both Arden and the bear tumbled down the steep rocky slope to crash into the valley below. When their bodies finally stopped rolling, neither Arden nor the bear were moving. It appeared the rocky fall killed them both. We screamed down to our companion in hopes of rousing him, but it was to no avail. 

There was no way for us to get down there to him to see if he was in fact dead. I could not see how someone could survive such a fall; we did not have enough rope between us all to climb down there where his body rested. Our friend Arden was dead, and we all knew that without having to say anything. 

We stood there for at least ten minutes before anyone said anything. Jonathan finally broke the silence and said what we were all already thinking. Arden was dead. There was nothing we could do for him, and we needed to find a safe place as nightfall would be upon us soon. 

Saying a brief prayer for Arden’s soul, we went back to where we left our backpacks leaning against the rocks. Going through Arden’s pack, we took everything he had inside. I took his rifle, but he took his six shooter to the bottom of that ravine with him. Some may think it morbid to plunder a dead man’s things, but our highest priority was staying alive. If that meant stealing a dead man’s belongings, then so be it. 

The heaping snow made it impossible to go around the other way, so we had to return to the scene of Arden’s death. We did not know if there would be any more bears around this ledge, so we all four kept our firearms at the ready. Keeping as quite as we could, we slowly made our way around the red sandstone bluff remaining alert for any dangers that may be waiting for us. 

It was hard for me to focus on what may lie ahead as I could not stop thinking about Arden. We were friends and companions for nearly seven years, and now his corpse lay at the bottom of the steep incline. We could not get down there to him to give him a proper Christian burial, and even if we could the ground was frozen solid. There would be no possibility of digging him a grave until the snow melted and the ground thawed. I despised the idea of leaving him down there to be torn apart by wild animals, but there was simply nothing I could do for him. 

We eventually made it to the far end of the bluff and found the land became much more level than the hilly terrain we traveled for the last month. Maurice insisted on backtracking to see if we could reach Arden’s body from our current location, but after ten minutes Maurice returned and said there was another gorge preventing him from making it across. Arden’s body would have to remain where it fell. 

The remaining four of us were silent for some time as we forced our way through the snow. I think we were all in something of a state of shock after watching our companion roll down that eighty degree decline along with that black bear. Splitting up Arden’s belongings felt wrong, but we could not waste any supplies. I supposed it was not like he was going to need it anyway. Still, I felt like I was robbing a dead man. 

We were fortunate not to encounter any more snow for the next week. Our hopes were raised when we saw a river cutting through the Sandhills. As far as we traveled, I was sure that it must be the Niobrarah River, which meant we were almost to the border of South Dakota. Without knowing what part of the river we found, it was uncertain how much more traveling we had to do before we finally reached the Black Hills. We could be days or we could be another month from our destination. 

We did not finally reach the river until well after noon the next day. Large ice flows made their way east as the water pushed them down river. There was no possibility of us crossing here; we were going to have to travel along the bank until we found a bridge or some other place we could safely cross without having to get into the icy water. With us being in what was apparently a very remote location, I did not think our chances of finding a bridge were very good. 

We tried to remain as close to the river as we could, but the hills made that impossible in some areas. More than once we had to climb the steep snow-covered hills in order to make any form of progress. Our food supply was running very low, and if we did not find civilization soon, I feared that old Indian man’s prediction was going to come true. Arden was already dead, and the rest of us did not have much hope unless we could find food soon. 

Our fortune turned around a few days later as we rounded a bend in the river only to spot a small herd of white-tailed deer drinking from the trickling water. Moving very slowly, the four of us aimed our firearms at the unsuspecting animals. When Maurice gave everyone the signal, we fired in unison. Instantly two of the deer fell to the ground, and we gravely injured another. 

The surrounding land was not particularly steep, so we did not think an avalanche was even possible at this point. We were wrong, dead wrong. More snow than we realized fell in this area, and when the sound of four rifles firing simultaneously echoed across the surface, it dislodged a massive sheet of icy snow. I dove behind a nearby rock, but I did not see what happened to the others. 

The small boulder miraculously shielded me from the tons of packed snow that slid its way into the river. The sound was deafening, and I had no doubt this was when I was going to die. When the roaring finally came to an end, I was buried underneath several feet of the avalanche. Trying not to panic, I used what space I had to begin digging my way out. I was afraid I would run out of air by the time I finally breached the surface. 

O’Doyle somehow managed to keep from being buried, but all I could see of Maurice were his feet sticking out of the white debris. I did not see Jonathan anywhere. As I pulled myself out of the hole I was in, I could hear someone screaming, but very faintly. Jonathan was pushed into the river by the massive slide, and he was unable to fight against the current. He was in cold shock and was barely able to call for help. 

My oldest friend needed my help, and I was having a difficult time pulling myself out of this small cavity. Every time I tried to pull myself to the surface, the snow gave way underneath my hands. Although this area was somewhat stable, the snow sheet a little further down the river continued to slide down the gentle hill. Jonathan did his best to hold on, but he was holding the edge of the flow. Before I could get out of the snow and over to him, Jonathan was in the river, buried under several feet of snow. I ran as fast as I could over the unstable snow to the last place I saw him. Desperately digging for the one person who was at every expedition with me since the beginning. I did not know how long I tried digging for my friend, but eventually Maurice and O’Doyle grabbed me by the arms and forced me to stand. 

I looked at Maurice and told him we had to dig Jonathan out, but he gave me a saddened look and gently shook his head. I knew he was right. There was no way he was still alive in the water after all this time. I wanted to cry but my face was too cold. I could not believe our lust for gold now resulted in the death of the one man who was with me for seven years and another who was with me more than seventeen. 

If we only knew, only a few more bends around the river was a bridge. It was obviously a well-used bridge as it was virtually devoid of snow, and the road leading to and from it were only a foot deep in snow at most. We were so close to making it across the river, but Jonathan and Arden never made it this far. Dragging our kills behind us, we made our way toward the first sign of civilization we saw in more than a month. 

Within an hour of reaching the road, we encountered a small team of military wagons. As soon as they saw us, the commanding officer ordered the wagons to a stop. Four men jumped out of the wagons and made their way to us. 

Immediately O’Doyle, excited to have the rescue, told the men we were lost in the Sand Hills for more than a month. As he explained to them how we got caught in the snow, the men helped us off with our backpacks while some other men took our kills to the last wagon. 

We were less than a half-day in the wagon away from Fort Randall. The soldiers were happy to give us a ride to the fort. What we would do from there we would have to figure out when we had some adequate food and sleep. I was more than thankful to finally have the rescue, but if it only came two days sooner Jonathan would be alive. 

The colonel in charge of the fort offered us board for one month in trade for the large, white-tailed deer we killed shortly before running into the wagons. The rest of our stay we would have to work; this meant earning money to repurchase wagons and supplies would take us much-much longer. There was not enough work in this snowy weather to justify paying civilians more than room and board. If things did not turn around for us soon, it would be mid-summer by the time we reached the Black Hills. 

We were stuck with performing the least desirable tasks, unless there were soldiers being punished for whatever reason. In that case, they were stuck with the jobs that would otherwise be reserved for the few civilians inside the fort walls. Fortunately, there were enough soldiers sleeping too late, performing their duties poorly or otherwise finding themselves in disfavor of the fort’s command. 

We were into our fourth week residing at the fort when the lieutenant approached us with an offer to join the patrols outside the fort walls. He informed us a small patrol went out a week ago and never returned. Another patrol was sent out to search for the first, and what they found chilled them to the core like the snow never could. The bodies were mutilated, like they were mauled by some kind of bear. Since we had experience with the terrain and the wild animals found therein, he wanted us to join the next patrol which would leave early the next morning. 

When we showed reluctance, he offered to pay us each a dollar and a half a day if we would agree. Stepping aside, the three of us mulled it over for a moment. The offer was not great, but it was better than nothing. At least this way we could save a little money to fund the rest of our expedition. Losing our supplies, horses and wagons was a serious blow from which we thought we may never recover. Now we had the opportunity to bounce back from the devastating setbacks we suffered. 

After a few moments, we turned back to the lieutenant and told him we would agree to go out on patrols, but we all lost our rifles when we were caught in that massive snow shift. This being a military fort, the man told us it would be no problem to arm us before we set out. He told us to stop at the armory in an hour to pick up our firearms. 

“When, when do we get paid?” O’Doyle inquired. 

The lieutenant informed us pay would be on the Saturday of each week, and we could collect our earnings then. The three of us were so glad to get this news, as we did not think there was any way we were going to earn enough to get us to the Black Hills before the summer was over. We knew with the lead of Maurice, we could make a fair living hunting for and trapping for fur and meat, but that was only going to get us so far. This was going to help us meet our new goal of making it to our destination by mid-summer. 

Agreeing to the man’s terms, he told us to finish what we were doing and start getting ourselves prepared. This was the first time since our arrival we were going to have the opportunity to take a hot bath. Not having bathed in several months, the three of us were excited to finally be able to scrub the accumulated filth from our bodies. Once we were bathed and redressed, Maurice, O’Doyle and I reported to the armory to receive our issued weapons. 

The rifles were adequate enough, but the firearms we lost in the shifting sheet of snow were much better. I was not sure if these would kill a bear or serve only to make it angry. I hoped the soldiers would at least carry something a little more powerful than the lever action rifles we had. These were fine for shooting at other men, but I did not have much confidence in their ability to fell a large animal. 

The three of us retired to the cramped quarters we were given and laid down for the night. The beds were small and had only straw-filled mats. For O’Doyle and I it was not too bad, but I felt for Maurice trying to sleep on one of these small beds. He hung off the bed from his mid-shins to his feet. Hopefully, if we continued to help out on the patrols, we would be upgraded to something a little better than the lowly servants’ quarters. 

I awoke first the next morning. The sun was not yet showing itself over the horizon, so I did not wake my two companions until a little later. Instead, I spent the next hour thinking of the two friends we lost along the way. If we had only listened to that Indian, we would probably all be sitting somewhere nice and warm right now sharing a round of ale. I still could not believe I watch both the men with whom I worked for so long perish in the ways they did. 

Finally, I woke Maurice and O’Doyle so we could all start getting ourselves ready. Although all three of us already had our six-shooters loaded, we decided to wait until we were on the wagon to load our rifles. We stepped into the courtyard to find the soldiers were only now leading the horses out to the wagons. Since we did not want to sit around and wait until they were ready, the three of us joined the soldiers in getting the horses hitched to the wagons. 

By the time the sun began to peek above the horizon, the three-wagon caravan was headed out the wooden gates of the fort. Our primary mission for today was to retrieve the bodies of the dead soldiers found during a patrol yesterday. It was more than a five-hour ride before we located the carnage that was once a military patrol. 

The first soldiers to come upon this scene gathered the bodies and laid them out in the snow, but they did not have a wagon to transport the corpses back to the fort. I could not believe what I saw. During all our time working in the outdoors, none of us ever encountered anything like this. 

There were four men in all. One of them was missing his head and his entire leg quarter all the way up to the hip. One more was missing both a leg and an arm and the remaining two looked like something disemboweled them. Many of their internal organs appeared to be missing. 

I saw the aftermath of more than one animal attack in my life, and I never once saw anything as gruesome as this. The bodies were covered in the massive clawmarks of a bear, but I never saw anyone dismembered the way these men were. When a bear dismembered someone, there was usually a lot more torn tissue than found on the bodies in front of us. Although the wounds were filled with claw marks and torn tissue, the overall wounds seemed to be too precice for those one would sustain in a bear attack. 

Now equipped with snowshoes, most of us fanned out in search of the missing body parts. None of the soldiers were found in the same place, which did not make much sense, and the missing limbs were not found with the corpses. A bear would not gather up parts and carry them away, so the missing limbs and the one missing head should be here in the snow somewhere. 

There was not much fresh snowfall since the foot patrol went missing, so any stray limbs should be easy to find. The blood would stain the snow and make it easy to locate. Eleven of us searched for three hours, essentially covering the area with our own prints, and found no signs of any of the absent body portions. We continued to search for a little more than an hour before we finally had to leave. 

The three men waiting with the wagons already had the corpses of their comrades loaded into the flat bed wagon when we returned. We had to give up the search because we had to beat the sunset to the fort. I do not think any amount of searching the area was going to produce any results as we searched virtually every square inch of the area well beyond the location of the original location of the bodies. 

As soon as we returned to the fort the captain called us to his office. He wanted to know exactly what we discovered with the patrol. Maurice described the condition of the bodies when we found them, and which the captain already saw for himself, then explained what made the wounds so unusual. Although there were gouges from the claws of a bear in the wounds, the way the body parts were separated almost seemed like the work of a professional butcher. 

The fact there seemed to be no blood on the snow to indicate where the missing parts of the men fell meant the bodies were dead for some time before their dismemberment. There was some blood where the bodies were originally found but not enough to account for a person bleeding out from such horrific wounds. 

When the captain asked us what kind of animal we thought was capable of doing such a thing, we were at a loss to give him any sort of answer. None of us ever encountered or heard of anyone encountering any animal capable of doing such a thing. There was no wild animal that surgically removed body parts in such a manner. If a large animal dismembered someone the limbs were ripped free, not cut free using sharp claws like we saw with the bodies of the soldiers. 

We went over the specific condition of the bodies with the captain several times. It was growing irritating with the captain asking us the same questions over and over, but I know the military man was only trying to get to the bottom of things. He lost four of the men under his command, and he wanted to know why. As adventurers, we wanted to know what kind of animal could dismember someone that cleanly. 

By the time the captain released us from his office, rumors spread around the camp about what was discovered. Soldiers already began to make up mythical creatures that could kill humans in such a manner. For some reason they appeared fearful of approaching me and my companions as if what happened was somehow our fault. Not much change happens in an area like this in the winter, so our arrival may have set their superstitions in motion. 

The next morning the captain again summoned us to his office. He had a new proposal for us. According to him, there was a small ranching settlement a five-day ride from here during the warmer months, so the road leading into the hills was probably still covered in several feet of snow. We would leave the fort with a small unit of soldiers who would accompany us all the way to the settlement road. From there the three of us along with five soldiers would have to travel by means of snowshoes the rest of the way. 

With a fort full of trained soldiers, I was a bit perplexed by the captain’s request for us to take on this expedition. He claimed it was because my companions and I had much more experience traveling difficult terrain than most of his men who were used to training on dry ground. I could not help but wonder if it was because he did not want to lose any more of his own men, so he hoped we would accept the task. 

We already lost two of our friends on our voyage to this location, and we had no desire to risk our lives hunting down some unknown beast. The captain, sensing our apprehension offered to pay us each an additional dollar a day while we were on this particular expedition. Two and a half dollars a day was simply too much money to pass up. If we could keep earning money like this, we could completely resupply by the time the snow thawed for the year. 

Maurice insisted we be equipped with more powerful firearms than supplied to us the previous day. If we were going to be facing some unknown animal capable of causing the carnage we witnessed with that missing patrol, we needed weapons capable of killing it. The guns we had yesterday would only serve to anger something that large. 

The captain said he would summon us to the armory in the afternoon to allow us to select what arms we wanted to take with us, and asked if that would suffice. Maurice told him, if he let us select what we wanted, he had a deal.  

Another matter to be resolved before setting out was who would be in charge of whom. O’Doyle insisted we assume command once we left the wagons and set out on foot. The captain was only sending five soldiers with us, and we needed to know they were going to support us and not be a point of contention. The captain did not seem very pleased with O’Doyle’s demand, but he understood our reasoning. We could not do what he wanted to do if we could not get the cooperation of the soldiers sent along with us to the ranch houses. The captain told us he would hand select the group of men to accompany us from the main road to the settlement. 

Having finally agreed on the terms of our services, the captain walked over to the armory with us and allowed us to sign out the weapons we wanted. The three of us already had six-shooters, but we lost our rifles when the shifting snow buried Jonathan under the surface of the river. Maurice and I opted for .50 caliber Old Reliables, but O’Doyle chose to take a bolt action Mauser instead. We were also each issued a Winchester lever action rifle as a backup, along with plenty of ammunition. 

At that point, the captain excused himself and had one of his sergeants take us to get whatever other gear we still needed for such an expedition. As we only planned on being gone for a few weeks at most, we did not have to overload ourselves with things like beans and rice. Our backpacks and some of our other gear was also destroyed when we were caught in the massive sheet of snow sliding down from the hills, so we needed to replace those as well.

To our surprise, the captain had us moved to larger quarters. Granted, it was not much larger than the previous room we were given, but there was at least enough room to store our gear. We each went ahead and got our backpacks loaded while it was still daylight. As soon as the sun began to set for the evening, all three of us got to bed. 

The next morning we woke up only half an hour or so before the military men going on this journey with us began to rise. Maurice, O’Doyle and I assisted in getting the wagons prepped and ready to head out the gate. It was easy to see the men going along on this expedition with us were very well trained by how methodically they performed their tasks. At one point it seemed like my companions and I were only getting in the way, so we stood aside and allowed the soldiers to do their job. In less than an hour after I awoke, we were headed out the heavy wooden gates. 

The temperature was extremely low, but at least the wind was not blowing. The heavy gusts that usually blew relentlessly across this region during the winter were being kind to us, and we only experienced a small breeze. The captain sent five wagons in all, with a total of twenty-five men.

I rode in the front wagon with two of the men who would accompany us from the main road to the ranch settlement. O’Doyle and Maurice rode in the second and third wagons respectively. The sergeant driving this wagon was in his mid to late forties, but the other fellow did not look like he could be any more than twenty. The ride was long and monotonous, and this gave me plenty of time to get to know two of those who would walk with us to the ranch homes. 

I found out the sergeant was finishing out his time so he could retire with a pension. He chose to accept this post because it was notorious for being the least active garrison in the army. With nothing out here, the was not really any point in having a fort. The only reason one existed was to protect the surrounding settlements. He figured it would be an easy last few years before he returned to take over his family farm. 

The younger soldier was from Nebraska, in the southern region of the Sand Hills. This type of weather and terrain was what he was used to, and that was how he ended up with this assignment. The lad was from a family of ranchers who tended a herd in the open ranges of the Sand Hills. The terrain was not good for farming because of the minuscule amount of precipitation that came during the summer. Virtually all of the water that fell from the sky here did so during the winter in the form of snow. 

After chatting with the two for several hours, I understood why the captain chose them for this mission. The sergeant was an experienced hunter and highly trained in hand-to-hand combat. The younger soldier spent virtually his entire life in the Sand Hills, and he was very knowledgeable about as to how to locate edible plants and spot the hidden burrows of grouse and other fowl. 

The other three men who would go with us to the settlement were accomplished marksmen. Although two of them were experienced trackers, my companions and I were much more adept at tracking as we spent virtually all our lives in the wilderness. It did feel like being on another world out here in the Sand Hills as there were the only the occasional trees to be found, and they were either evergreen or diminutive for their breed. 

Three days later when we reached the turnoff for the settlement, there was very little evidence the road even existed. The snow here was three to four feet deep on average. Now we had to leave the comfort of the wagons behind and walk to the ranch homes by means of snowshoes. What would normally be a two day wagon ride would probably take us close to a week to complete on foot. 

We all carried as many firearms as we could as well as pouches full of ammunition. Our packs were already loaded with food, flint and tinder, tents and the other various things we needed to survive in this open wilderness. I could hear the mumbling of the other men; they were all glad they were not going with us. That was fine enough, so long as they were waiting here when we returned. Too many men, especially if they were not trained for this kind of thing, would hinder us more than they would help. 

We ate before we left the wagons so we would have the energy we needed to start this arduous trek. Walking with snowshoes was not easy, and it could be downright difficult for those unaccustomed to them. It was fortunate for us all the men the captain chose were from areas that saw heavy snow during the winter months. 

Starting on the third day we began to see bare ground. It was obvious cattle were roaming in this area, and where they roamed, they trampled the snow to the ground. People around here did not fence in their cattle, but rather allowed them to roam freely. Rustling cattle with someone else’s brand on it was punishable by hanging. The ranchers did a rather good job at policing themselves in such matters; the fort was around more in for cases of Indian attacks than controlling the cattle. 

Early in the morning of our third day into our walk to the settlement, the wind began to pick up. Clouds already filled the skies when we awoke, and I was sure we had more snow blowing into the area. By the time midday came around, the wind was blowing with such vigor, it was becoming difficult to stay standing. 

Finally, Maurice stopped us and said it was time we started digging a bunker in the snow where we could ride out the bad weather. Using the small shovels we brought as part of our equipment, we set to digging a hole large enough to hold all eight of us but narrow enough that we could use our canvass tents as a cover. 

In less than an hour, we had our shelter built. It could not have been soon enough as large flakes of snow began to appear in the blowing wind. By the time nightfall came, there was already a foot of snow accumulated on and around the top of our shelter. 

Although we had flint and tinder, we had no wood to burn. The only trees available for cutting were cedar, and burning cedar would fill our meager bunker with soot and smoke. We were going to have to suffer through this night with no fire. At least we had shelter to protect us from the wind and adequate clothing to prevent us from freezing. 

The next morning it took us a while to dig our way back to the surface, as more than two more feet of snow fell during the night. Unfortunately, the wind was still blowing, but not as strong as it was yesterday. Although clouds still dominated the sky, only small flurries speckled the air. I suspected this was more snow blowing from the ground in the strong gusts of wind rather than new snow falling from the sky. 

If we became delayed, we would run out of rations. We only brought enough for two weeks because our loads were already so heavy. So far we saw no wildlife to hunt. We did see several small herds of cattle a few days ago, but there did not appear to be any sign of them we could see from here. Shooting someone’s cow was not ideal, but the fort would compensate the rancher for the lost head. 

Finding a large white-tailed deer was our most hopeful option, but in this snow they were probably sheltered somewhere in the hills. The young soldier with whom we shared a wagon told us he could catch us some grouse or pheasant if we gave him time to search as we walked. Every so often, the young soldier would get down to his knees and put his head as close to the ground as he could. 

At first I thought the soldier was trying to listen to the ground, then I realized he was watching the surface of the snow. He did this a few times before he finally told us to stop and wait. The young man walked about fourty feet from our location and again got down on his knees. Instead of putting his head near the ground as before, he plunged his arm into the snow and jerked a bird out of the ground by its neck. In one swift motion, the young soldier removed the grouse from the ground, snapped its neck and killed it. He looked around for another ten minutes and repeated his actions, getting us two birds that would be large enough to keep us fed for one day at least. 

I asked the young soldier how he did that, but he would not tell me. I tried not to pester him about it, but that was a skill I would very much like to learn. I finally got the obviously skilled hunter to explain to me how he managed to pull a large bird from the snow when none of the others were close by. He said to watch from ground level, and if there were any grouse or pheasant in the snow, you could see tiny puffs of steam rising from the ground. 

Apparently, the birds would allow the snow to build up around them while keeping it pushed away from their bodies enough to give them a little wiggle room. The birds would stretch their neck up as the snow got deeper until their beaks were pointing straight up. The steamy puffs were the fowl inside the snow breathing. He also said you could locate them if you could find the small holes, no more than an inch or two in diameter, they created with their breath. 

I thanked him and asked him if there was anything I could do for him in return. He shrugged his shoulders and told me no. The young man just ask that I not share this information with the other soldiers. His ability to locate wildlife hidden in the snow was one of the things that made him a valuable asset. Because we would be moving on in the spring, and because of everything we endured getting here, the young soldier did not mind sharing the information with me. 

Eight days after we left the wagons, we finally came to the small collection of houses everyone kept calling a settlement. There were only three houses, three barns and a scattering of other shacks and sheds. Some cattle grazed some of the more exposed areas, but we did not see any people moving about.  

When we got a little closer, the sergeant called out to see if anyone would answer. By this time, the sun melted the snow enough for us to find the road that led to the center of the homes. We followed it into the middle of what one could scarcely call a settlement, and the captain called out several times again. When no one replied, we all got our weapons ready for whatever we might encounter. 

At this point we allowed the sergeant to take command of the group. This was a situation more suited to his training than to ours. He sent Maurice and two of the other soldiers accompanying us to one house, The third solder he sent with the young man and O’Doyle to another house. He and I went to inspect the third. 

It did not take us long at all to discover whey no one replied to the captain’s calls. As soon as we stepped inside the door we saw four bodies lying on the floor, or at least what was left of them. There were two clear blood trails leading in from other rooms, which meant whatever was killing people in this region had the wherewithal to gather the bodies in one area. Bears and mountain lions, the largest predators in this part of the country, would not do such a thing. This thing that was killing and mutilating the bodies of its prey was something much smarter than an animal. 

I turned and looked outside out of disgust, and I saw the young soldier outside of another house on the ground vomiting. I did not know if he was told what to expect or not, but clearly it was more gruesome than he ever anticipated. If the scene in that house was anything like this one, they walked in to find the bodies of these ranching families collected in the front room. They were missing their limbs, and several of them had their heads severed. 

We took a little time to compose ourselves, then the captain had O’Doyle and three of his men, including the talented young soldier, outside to keep a guard from there as the rest of us performed a sweep of the first house. In the children’s bedroom we discovered the beds were covered in blood. It was obvious the young ones were slain in their beds, most likely as they slept, then their bodies were dragged into the front room where their carcasses were dismembered. 

In the master bedroom, the scene became even more grizzly. The mother’s head was still in the bed and judging by the amount of blood spray on the walls and floor, someone put up a struggle before succumbing to whatever devilish beast was roaming these hills. With small variations, we found this to be the case in every house. 

As with the missing patrol, the arms and legs were severed from the bodies by something with razor sharp claws. They did not look to be ripped apart by a wild beast though, as the wounds of the severed limbs seemed to be removed with the skill of a butcher. 

There was another very curious thing we noticed about the bodies. Only a few of them contained any claw marks on the bodies. There were clear claw marks around the severed limbs, but very few if any on the bodies. If these people were attacked by a wild animal, there would be gouges all over the corpse, not just around the limbs. 

Once we cleared the houses and made sure nothing was still lurking inside one of them, we divided into two groups of four and began to search the surrounding buildings. Inside the barns we found horses still alive, feeding on the copious amounts of hay stacked near the back. None of the cattle, none of the horses seemed to be harmed. It was only the people. This thing appeared to have a taste for human flesh. The idea sent shivers down my spine as I pondered the possibility of something hunting me down and eating me. 

The captain had us finish searching the immediate area. We found no injured animals, and no human body parts laying around. Maurice and the other group did locate something as one of the soldiers began yelling for the sergeant to come over to their location. If we got here a day or two sooner, we probably would not have found it. Since the sun melted away the freshly fallen snow, we could see the tracks of something leading away from the settlement. The tracks were obscured because the thing dragged a canvass or sack behind it which obviously contained the missing body parts as made evident by the blood on the ground. 

Following the trail, we found the blood eventually stopped. It was probably because the limbs either bled out by this point or dragging along the snow caused them to freeze slightly. It was a horrible thought to consider, but there was no time for sugar coating anything.  

Anxiety was running high as everyone kept an eye out for whatever otherworldly thing that killed at least four soldiers and everyone in that ranching settlement. We did not know if one creature was doing all of this or if we faced one or more of the abominations, so we stayed very alert to our surroundings. Continuing to follow the trail left for us to find, it became obscured and outright disappeared because of the sun melting away the snow. 

Before the sun began to set, we found a strategically defensible place near the top of a large hill and set up camp there. The night would be divided into three shifts so we had someone awake and guarding at all times. Again, we started no fire, but this time it was because we did not want to alert anything malevolent that could be stalking us in the hills. 

The wind was blowing, but we chose the face of a hill that protected us from the bulk of it. The wind did not make keeping our tents in place and that sort of thing difficult, but it did make trying to listen at any kind of distance impossible. The moon was shining bright, so we had that going in our favor. The full moon illuminated the hills so well I could see more than a hundred yards away. The only problem was the shaded side of the hills were almost jet black, which could allow for all manner of things to hide. So long as something stuck to the shadows, it could move about unseen. 

I would not feel comfortable enough to get any measure of sleep if it were not for knowing one of my friends would be on each one of the shifts. I did not know these soldiers enough to trust them with my life as we slept, but I knew my companions would be at the ready during their round at keeping guard during the night. 

Occasionally the wind blowing through the hills would cause an unusual echo-like sound that I found quite unnerving. I was keeping watch with the sergeant at the time. He explained to me he received reports and encountered for himself these strange noises in the past. According to him, it was simply caused when wind became trapped in the lower sections of the hills by heavier gusts from above. It did not matter if I knew the explanation, I still found the haunting noise to be very unsettling. 

I was thankful when the sun rose from behind the eastern hills after a night without incident. No one wanted to talk about it, but none of us could stop thinking about it. If we let our guard down and that thing or things killing people in this region could leave us behind as it took our limbs with it. The thought of being dismembered and likely devoured was enough to make even the most durable man uneasy. 

Following a quick breakfast of bitter, lukewarm coffee and jerky, we were packed up and on our way. Continuing in the direction the path led before we lost sight of it, we made it no further than a couple hundred feet when we saw the prints of some large beast. What kind none of us could say. They somewhat resembled the footprints of a black bear, but the arch of the foot and the placement of the claws did not look right. I believed we were hunting something similar to a bear, but in all my years in the wilderness, I never saw tracks that looked quite like these. 

The sergeant had his men fan out a bit and secure the area as we examined the tracks to see what we could make of them. Whatever the creature was, it was obvious it walked on two feet. Although bears could walk on two feet for short distances, at some point they always dropped back to all fours. This thing appeared to remain standing at all times. That ruled out any animal with which I was familiar, nor was anyone else. 

The stride appeared to be similar to that of a man, but the feet were much larger. I would expect something like this to leave heavier footprints in the snow and frosty ground than it did. These tracks did not go much deeper than ours did, so the creature could not be much heavier than the average man. At most I would expect the thing we were now hunting to be no bigger than Maurice. 

The most disturbing part of this discovery was that the tracks we found led toward the location of our last camp and not away from it. That means this thing was stalking us, watching us in the dark last night, probably waiting for us to be off our guard so it could lunge into our camp and dispatch us with its razor-like claws. 

It did not matter now which way the tracks went, if we did not lose them again, we should be able to follow the course of these footprints back to the creature’s lair. As we followed the prints back to their source, the sergeant had the young soldier searching for some fowl hidden in the snow, but since it was days since the last snowfall, most of them were out of their shelters and would likely be found wherever we could find liquid water. 

We got lucky an hour or so later when we saw a gaggle of wild turkeys sheltered between two steep hills. O’Doyle held his hand up indicating to everyone to be silent. Maurice, O’Doyle, the young soldier and I raised our rifles. Taking careful aim, Maurice began to silently count to three, and all four of us fired. We managed to fell three birds, but the rest of them fled before we could chamber another round. 

If that creature stalking the hills did not know where we were, it did now. There was no missing the loud blast of four rifles firing at once. The last time we pulled such a stunt, I lost my friend I knew for close to twenty years. We had to take our shots at once or the chances of us bagging more than one bird would be pretty slim. 

At this point we not only had to worry about hunting this creature down, we had to make sure we did not run out of food. The dried provisions we brought with us from the fort were not going to last us until we returned to the wagons. It already took us longer to reach the settlement than we anticipated, and now we were a day and a half on the other side of that. We brought enough food to last us for two weeks, and we were almost to our tenth day already. These birds would only feed us for a day or two. Our most optimal situation would be to take down a deer or possibly an elk. It would be a lot to carry with us, but it would keep us fed until we returned to the wagons waiting at the main road. 

As the day drew to an end, we could see some sandstone bluffs possibly ten miles or so away. It was too far for us to reach before the sun set, and there was a distinct possibility that creature’s lair may be in a cave or fissure in the sandstone. We lost our friend Arden when a bear emerged from its lair before taking itself and our friend down the bottom of the steep slope at the base of those bluffs. 

This was our call to make and not that of the military men. It was too dangerous to approach the bluffs at night, even if the moon was going to be mostly full. Anything making its home in the stone faces of the bluffs would certainly be very familiar with the area, and this area was completely new to all of us. Our best bet was to go ahead and find a securable location and set up camp. 

This time we chose a location at the end of a narrow valley that came to a dead end at the base of a circular hill. Tonight we would divide our sleep shifts into two so we could keep four men on guard at all times. If we were close to this creature’s lair, it may come after us in defense of its home. Were that to be the case, we needed to make sure we guarded any possible paths of approach the thing may use. 

This time I kept watch with O’Doyle, the skilled young hunter and one of the other men who accompanied us on this expedition. The wind began blowing as the sun set, so it made staying at the top of the hill for very long next to impossible. The blistering gale was more than we could bear even as prepared for the cold as we were. 

The location we chose, we chose not only because it was very defendable, but it also shielded us from that unrelenting wind. At one point O’Doyle and I climbed the hill to keep a watch from up high for a short time. I could not believe we were here hunting something that was probably hunting us. We were supposed to be in the Black Hills by now staking our claims. Instead, Jonathan and Arden were both dead, and if we were not careful, we would be next. 

The young soldier keeping watch with us began to yell out the name of the other man. O’Doyle and I got down the hill as quickly as we could. The young soldier said his comrade was there one moment, but he turned away for only a second. When he turned back, the other man was gone. The yelling woke up everyone who was sleeping and in no time we were all armed and scouring the area. 

The man’s lifeless body lay no more than a hundred feet from where he was last seen. Something slashed his throat and drug him away from the camp. We must have startled it or something since it did not appear to finish the job. The dead soldier still had both his arms and legs, although his head was nearly severed from his body. 

Our attention was drawn away from the unfortunate soldier lying in front of us when a bright light erupted from our camp. Running back as quickly as we could, we found our tents in flames. We managed to rescue a large portion of our gear, but we did lose both tents that were set up along with the bedding or anything else inside of them. 

What kind of demonic beast could we be dealing with? 

It seemed like the thing killed this soldier and drug him off only to lure us all away from our camp. Somehow it circled around, or it had the help of others, and set both tents we had set up on fire. By the time we got back to our burning camp, the creature was nowhere to be found. 

Maurice, the sergeant and O’Doyle went to retrieve the body of the dead soldier, but they returned less than a minute later and said the body was gone. We were dealing with something much more intelligent than a bear or mountain lion. We were dealing with something unheard of. No rumors of such a creature circulated around the region, although I am sure they would now. There was nothing to give us any indication of what this could be. 

If things were not bad enough, the roaring winds began to drop snow on and around us. There were still no clouds in the sky we could see. The groundspeed of the wind was so strong, the snow got to us before the clouds did. This was not good, not good at all. Our best chance to catch this thing was to follow the tracks it left tonight, but the snow grew heavier and heavier. Any tracks it left behind for us to follow would be covered by the time the sun rose. 

Moral was low, and there was talk of turning back. We could not come this far and turn away to let this beast continue feeding on human flesh. It had to be stopped no matter what it took. 

The snow was still falling heavily when the orange sun appeared from behind the eastern hills. With the wind still blasting through the area, visibility was low. I said we should tether ourselves together so no one could be snatched away while the others were not looking, and the sergeant agreed. Keeping in a tight formation, we walked back out of this shallow valley to the open area from which we saw the sandstone bluffs. 

Without any tracks to follow, that was still our destination. If this was one or more wild and semi-intelligent creatures hiding out here in the Sand Hills, that was the most likely place we would find their den. The thought of there being many of these creatures sent shivers down my spine the cold could never match. 

I could only hope we were even traveling in the right direction. Visibility was nearly zero, and all we had to go by was what we remembered of the hills and the bluffs beyond the valley. There was no sun that we could see, but the wind was still blowing the same direction as last night. Comparing the direction of the wind to a compass, we got our bearings as best as we could and began walking. 

O’Doyle thought we should wait until the snow stopped before we tried tracking this thing in its own terrain, but Maurice thought the horror would continue to pick us off one by one until no one remained. The sergeant and I were both inclined to agree with Maurice. As long as we stayed tethered together, we could not be separated from one another. 

Progress was slow as walking across this freshly fallen snow, even with snowshoes, was quite difficult. We walked for hours before the falling snow began to let up enough to allow us to see we were indeed headed in the right direction. The soft snow now covering the ground added additional drag to our snowshoes, making the trek extremely difficult. We had to stop several times to rest, and we only had ten or less miles to travel. 

The bluffs turned out to be larger than we thought, and therefore further away. Our original estimate of the distance to the bluffs was eight to ten miles, but it turned out to be closer to fifteen. It was midday before we finally reached the red sandstone formation rising like a mountain in the midst of the Sand Hills. From the direction we came, we could see no way we could climb the slope without proper climbing gear. Our only chance to search the bluffs was if we could find a slope gentle enough for us to ascend. 

As we made our way around the bluffs, one of the soldiers told us he spotted something in the distance. He pointed out what looked to possibly be a house or cabin at the far end of the sandstone rock formation. After walking for another ten minutes, we were able to get a much better look at what was ahead. 

There was indeed a cabin in the distance, possibly another thirty-to-forty-minute walk from our current location. Smoke rose from the chimney of the large cabin. Our initial supposition was that the cabin was long abandoned, but the chimney emitting smoke told us otherwise. 

O’Doyle suggested we may have passed the lair of the creature that seemed to crave human flesh. If someone was alive here, the creature either did not get to them yet or it was outside of its territory. To me the first seemed more likely. Perhaps the beast was waiting, leaving these poor people until later as it probably knew they had nowhere to go. Both the sergeant and Maurice agreed we should check on the people in the cabin as they may have no idea what was stalking the hills. 

I did not know why someone would want to live this far from civilization. Perhaps these were ranchers who did not inhabit the area all year. That still did not make sense. If someone was only going to stay out here part of the year, it seemed like they would do so when the ground was not covered with snow and the air was not below freezing. 

Although we carried many weapons with us, I wielded my Winchester, as did Maurice, but O’Doyle opted to carry his revolvers instead. Along with the armed soldiers, we carefully made our way up to the cabin. I worried about how agressive our stance would look to someone inside, and I hoped they did not fire at us because they thought we were bandits. Normally the soldiers’ uniforms would make it obvious who we were, but at the moment we were all wrapped in pelts and furs to keep us from freezing to death. 

When we were about fifty feet from the building, the sergeant announced our presence and identified himself and the young soldier that accompanied him. We waited close to a minute before the sergeant announced our presence for a second time. When no one answered the second call, we assumed the cabin must be empty at the moment. Holding our firearms in a less aggressive manner, the sergeant and I approached the home. Maurice, O’Doyle and the young soldier stayed fifteen feet behind us, and the other two soldiers ten feet behind them. 

I knocked on the cabin door, but again we received no answer. Reaching down and grabbing the knob of the door, the sergeant turned the handle and found it was not locked or bolted. Switching to our revolvers, which would be much easier to use in the confined space of the cabin, we walked into the building one after the other. 

The cabin looked heavily used, but very well kept. In the front room there was nothing more than a single chair with a side table next to it. Something was cooking on the wood burning stove in the kitchen, and it smelled delicious. We survived on rations and foul for nine days now, and the aroma of a freshly cooked meal made my stomach rumble. 

Distracted by my appetite, I almost missed something crucial. Among the items covering the side table was a revolver, a revolver I recognized. The revolver was a Colt Patterson with a mother of pearl grip. The handle was riveted with silver rivets, and the flat sides of the flat barrel were covered in intricate engravings.  I saw this six shooter many times in the hands of my late friend Arden. 

Whoever lived in this cabin must have found Arden’s body and taken anything of value he had. I could not blame them for that. Wasting anything was not an option for people trying to survive in the harsh environment of the Sand Hills. When Arden and the bear that tackled him fell down the slope to their deaths, the rest of us divided up the supplies in his pack before proceeding with our journey. 

The sergeant went to the front room and told everyone else to begin circling around back. The three of us inside the building were going to go through the kitchen and come out the back door of the cabin. 

“Keep your eyes open and keep an eye on each other,” he instructed them. 

O’Doyle stepped out the back door and I followed. Maurice and the young soldier were both already at the back corner of the cabin. They stood there as if they were frozen, the countenance on their face displaying the absolute horror they appeared to be viewing. A storage cubby, most likely used for storing firewood, or possibly even coal, protruded from the back wall of the cabin, and that is where Maurice and the young soldier’s gazes were affixed. 

Stepping out further from the building so I could see what was in the hold, what I saw made my blood run colder than ice. Instead of wood or coal, the cubby was filled with a five foot tall pile of human bones. They appeared to have been cooked and picked clean. Virtually all the bones were arm or leg bones, but there were a few skulls in the mix as well. 

Every single one of the skulls had gunshot wounds to the head. All of the bodies we discovered thus far were missing limbs, but some of them were decapitated as well as being dismembered. We assumed this entire time that we were dealing with some sort of wild animal, but now it made me want to vomit when I thought of what was inside cooking in that pot. 

Four shots rang out in the cold windy air. The young soldier was hit in the back and the head, and he was dead before his body hit the ground. A third shot grazed Maurice’s shoulder, but the fourth missed. As we tried to seek cover, we turned and got off some shots of our own. 

Everything happened very quickly, but as soon as I turned around to fire at our assailant, I instantly recognized the face. Somehow, some way Arden survived the tumble down the hill with the bear. He was wearing garments made from the hide of a bear, most likely the very one that tried to kill him. Although I recognized the man as Arden, I did not know this thing in front of us. 

Arden’s eyes were large and sunken. A thick unkempt beard and shaggy mustache could not obscure his inhumanly overstretched jaw as he cried out with a voice that did not belong to the man I knew. Firing the last round in each of his revolvers, Arden threw them to the ground and began to bound at us on all fours. I never saw any animal, especially a human, move in such a fashion. He lunged with his legs, landed on his hands, and then swung his legs wide to come ahead of his hands before lunging once again. 

We fired another volley of rounds at the creature that was once my friend, hitting him multiple times. That did not stop him. Arden screeched like something from the pits of Hell as he sprung twenty feet through the air to land on top of the sergeant. When Arden brought his arm up into the air in preparation of striking the sergeant, I could see long, sharp talons protruding from the tips of his fingers rather than having fingernails. Long hair grew on his arms and the back side of his hands. Arden had become a wild beast. 

The rest of us fired again at Arden hoping to get him off of the sergeant. We had to be very careful so as not to hit the military man. I know at least four rounds entered Arden’s flesh, but it was not enough to stop him from swiping his hand across the sergeant’s throat, tearing a large handful of flesh loose. 

There was nothing we could do for the sergeant now, so we all unleashed with everything we had. When I exhausted my Winchester, I removed my Old Reliable from where it hung around my shoulder and fired three times with that. Arden, somehow still able to function, poised himself to leap at me. I knew I was going to die if that happened, but Maurice finally fired the shot that put our old friend down for good. The Frenchman blew most of the top of Arden’s head into a spray of fragments of bone and blood. 

Although we were quite confident Arden was dead, we still approached the body with extreme caution. We stood over the body looking at what was once a human. His eyes were like that of a cat, slitted rather than circular. The mouth on this thing was much larger than a normal person, and his teeth were sharp and pointed. 

Eventually, O’Doyle knelt beside the body and undid the bindings keeping the bear skin that kept Arden warm. Everyone gasped in horror when they looked at Arden’s torso. He was covered in long, thin hair. His ribs were thick, grotesquely creating one-inch ridges from underneath the muscular flesh. The skin was light brown and covered in large orange freckles. The man that was once our friend became something that was no longer human. 

At one point I had enough of looking at this unholy thing, and I went back into the cabin to see if there was anything that could explain what happened to Arden. Searching through the rubbish that filled the cabin, I finally found a single sheet of paper that appeared to be crumpled up and thrown to the floor. The letter was pinned in Arden’s handwriting. 

“My friends, may they burn in Hell, stole my gear and left me to die. I traveled for weeks, surviving on the meat from the bear that took me down the hill. I carried with me as much meat as I could. I was sure I was going to die when I found this place. The occupants would not help me. We fought and I had to kill them both. They survived by hunting, and had very little food in the house. I ate what they had, but soon was left with nothing, nothing but the bodies I stowed outside. 

“I wasn’t going to die after everything I survived, so I started eating the corpses. Quickly I found I preferred the taste of human meat to all others. I began craving it, unable to think of anything else. I managed to kill a deer, but when I tried to eat it, I felt as though I would be sick.

“I fear I do not have much time left. I can feel myself slipping, my beastial instincts are starting to overwhelm my sense of reasoning. I wanted to get my last thoughts down when I still had the where with all to do so. When I come back from my next hunt, I fear I will probably be no more than some kind of wild thing. I would become a slave to my animal instincts.” 

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