Morgan Emerson is a
big man with the strength of an ox; he would pull a plow faster than a mule or
horse. He did not mind the work but had a restless heart. Six feet three inches
of muscle mass with little weight wasted on fat, the first feature seen is his
brawn. Hair covers his head, neck, and chin. He is a handsome man with delicate
features that can be seen through the fur on his face. Morgan worked well
before the sun came up until long after it dropped behind the Black Mountain
range. With a big man comes big dreams; he wanted to hunt for his food, not
grow it. He wanted to explore the wilderness, not fear it; he desired to trap
fur, not watch it scurry away. Emerson is going west and soon.
Jane Ethel Emerson knew the day would come when her son would leave; she wanted it to be later but knew his days on the farm were numbered. Jane was a large woman whose clothes matched everything else about her; they were plain and simple. She made little effort to draw attention to herself. Jane's hair was up in order to keep it out of her face. Now turning grey, it had never been cut; she spent much of her time keeping it clean and tied in a giant bun. She felt her hair is a blessing from God and should not be taken for granted. Jane cut her toe and fingernails but would live with long hair. Her simple features blended in nicely with her surroundings; like her son, her heart is enormous. Tears quickly filled her eyes as the words slammed against her ears, "I'm leaving; I can't stay here anymore he announced. There's a war going on, and the world is passing me by. "When," she asked? "Tomorrow," was his answer.
The war took Morgan east for almost two years; he returned a completely different man. After serving under General Sherman for most of that time and killing rebels, he returned to Deadwood, South Dakota, to begin trapping. He discovered his hands were not made for digging early on, and there was too much risk panning for gold. To him, mother nature's hazards were more appealing than man's greed. He would rather deal with the red man than the white. So here he is, where he belongs in a savage land.
Roaming the Black Mountains is a hard life; it is not for everyone. Food is hard to come by; lions, bears, snakes, and Indians sometimes get in the way. The mountain man must be courageous, confident, skillful, resourceful, intelligent, and above all, in harmony with the wilderness. He must be well equipped with a fine rifle, plenty of bullets, a large knife, rations, and a strong mount. The horse must be sizeable because it carries a heavy man. Sherman is a handsome stallion worthy of a warrior. He is big, strong, fast, agile, and courageous, the same characteristics as his rider. Morgan has ridden many animals; mules, mares, and stallions were easy; the buffalo is more complicated. "I rode him hard until the bullet I put in him put him down," he once boasted. The carcass was pulled to a nearby village, where it was left for the tribe. Morgan took the fur, three pounds of meat, and one horn.
