Six Days To Kennevor, Part I

I set out from Chicago town in spring, eighteen seventy-nine, offered one hundred and a stake in the new Kennevor gold mine. Had to provide security and keep all of the miner’s safe, in the mountains of Montana, out beyond the Missouri breaks. I rode swiftly across the plains, thinking it wouldn’t be much more, when a passing cowboy said, “It’s six more days to Kennevor.” I did not want to believe him setting out on that first morning, but I felt that I was spied on, then heard the thwock of some bow strings! A party of a dozen Sioux has all taken up on my trail, I pushed my horse to outrun them, but it was to no avail. Finally I some rocks to ride, and shot two to their horror, thankfully then they galloped off… Five more days to Kennevor. The second day the weather changed, a swirling funnel tore the grass, I spurred my horse to run for in, towards mountains racing fast. Such a howling I never head, the great winds even took my hat! When we reached those high, rocky crags, I had never felt more glad. Then I foolishly asked myself what more could this trip have in store? I jinxed myself that very night, four more days to Kennevor. One the third day I found the road blocked and closed by a landslide, so I rode to a known back-route, that wandered through the mountainsides. The trail was made of broken stone, loose granite that skittered and slid, bad to lead my horse, keep him safe, but then I felt my own feet skid. Then I tumbled one hundred yards, until my sin was bruised and scored, angrily I trudged back on up, three more days to Kennevor... CONCLUDES IN PART II.