“I have something to say about the Ute tribe.”
It appears that an Indian tribe that had recently shown interest in guarding the mine has finally made an attempt to approach.
But before that, Kit Carson brought up an unexpected story.
“A few months ago, Kanosh, the chieftain of the Ute tribe, converted to Mormonism.”
“Conversion?”
Peach blinked just as much as Max.
It was a groundbreaking event for an Indian tribe’s chief to convert to Mormonism.
But there was a reason for that.
“The Mormons chose to coexist with the Indians to avoid friction and conflict. Their leader, Brigham Young, converted the Indians to Mormonism and encouraged intermarriage, promoting unity and common interests.”
‘Coexistence with Indians…’
Peach glanced at Max.
Because they had the same goals as Mormons.
“Anyway, Chief Kanosh told an interesting story.”
Kit Carson looked at Max with meaningful eyes.
“I heard that there was a story going around among Mormons about an Oriental saint on the Oregon Trail.”
“……”
It is said that an Oriental saint who hunted buffalo to feed starving Mormons is talked about among the followers as a legend.
‘……They used Mormons to keep the robbers away!?’
I never imagined that the results would turn out like this.
‘If you do this well, you can become a Mormon…’
As my head was spinning rapidly, Kit Carson spoke as if to confirm.
“Are you by any chance that Asian guy······?”
Max said, jumping up from his seat.
“Saint Max Joe. That’s me.”
Kit Carson nodded as if to say, “As expected,” and Peach looked at Max with a variety of expressions.
‘I thought I knew by now···.’
How dare a human try to fathom the heart of a saint. Peach, who was dizzy, wiped her forehead and a mad laugh flowed from her mouth.
*
The Ute Indians, like other Indians, are divided into several tribes. Among them, Pavant was one of the Ute tribes that abandoned their nomadic lifestyle and began farming.
Max headed beyond the mines into the heart of the Rocky Mountains on the border of Utah and Colorado to meet with Kit Carson and Pavant chief Kanosh.
Short but neatly combed hair.
Wearing a neat suit, vest, scarf and tie, he was fully displaying his converted Indianness.
In contrast, the surrounding Indians were just as they were: chieftains of other tribes who had refused to convert to Mormonism.
“It is a great honor for me to meet the saint of the Oregon Trail.”
“Don’t worry. But you speak English fluently.”
“I can speak Spanish, too.”
Kanosh burst into a merry laugh, while the surrounding Indians frowned at him.
A bone-chilling cold.
He was silently pressuring Kanosh to stop joking and quickly conclude the meeting.
“Ah, ah. Let me get straight to the point. Like the Arapaho, the Utes would like to help guard the mines.”
At Kanosh’s words, the chieftains’ gaze turned to Max.
The Indians gave up their warm and bountiful land to the white people. The price they paid was the miserable fate of having to spend the cold winter with insufficient food and clothing.
The supplies that the Arapaho brought with them every month were also essential to them.
Max looked around the room without any hesitation and said.
“The conditions are the same as those of the Arapaho. Each tribe will send ten guards, and we plan to increase the number in the spring.”
There was a dire shortage of white men to accompany the Indians. Until Allan Pinkerton sent his men, there was a limit to the number of Indians that could be employed.
After the specific agreement was made, the chieftains left one by one. Finally, only Max, Kit Carson, and Kanosh were left to have their own conversation.
The topic was about Mormonism, the reason Max came here.
“President Brigham Young wanted Utah Territory recognized as a Mormon territory. But the federal government refused and sent in troops.”
“It seems like the order has changed. Wasn’t the starting point of this incident the massacre of civilians by the Mormon militia?”
“I know that’s a story made up by the federal government. Do you really believe that?”
Kanosh instead looked at Max strangely.
An incident in which immigrants heading from Arkansas to California were brutally massacred.
Canosh believed the so-called “Mountain Meadows Massacre,” which took place on Mount Meadows near Salt Lake City, was a federal conspiracy.
If it had been Canosh who had only recently converted, it would have been quite possible for Brigham Young to have exposed their own shortcomings.
‘Well, is there really any need to persuade him?’
It didn’t matter whether Kanosh knew the truth or not.
Marx’s goal was to use this incident to manipulate Washington and the Mormons.
Max nodded absentmindedly and said.
“If Washington is behind this, I guess I’ll have to say something.”
“Is that possible?”
Are you scolding the President? Kanosh was surprised, and Kit Carson narrowed his eyes at Max.
“If Mormons have been falsely accused, it is my job to stand up.”
“Oh.”
Could it be the influence of the word saint? It feels like there is a halo behind Max’s head as he turns his back to the sun.
Kanosh covered his eyes with his hand because he was blinded by the light, and Kit Carson burst out laughing when he saw this.
At this moment, Max looked at Kanosh and said.
“I’m going to visit Salt Lake City soon. Before I do, there’s something you can do for me.”
“What’s going on?”
“I want to let people know who I am and where I am going.”
The rumors that spread through Kanosh.
It turns out that the Oriental saint of the Oregon Trail also discovered gold in Colorado.
And now there were rumors that he would meet with Brigham Young to resolve his conflict with the federal government.
< Saint Max Joe > End
< I care >
After meeting with Chief Kanosh of the Ute Indian tribe, Max and Carson headed toward the mine through snow-covered mountains and narrow canyons.
Carson was tight-lipped when he arrived, but he was quick to tell his story when he left.
“The Easterners consider trappers like me romantic and adventurous. In reality, we are always exposed to danger and malnutrition. Many die young or become disabled.”
“Well, isn’t it about longing for something you haven’t tried? People who live comfortable lives envy the free and wild life, and think that’s romantic.”
Kit Carson shook his head at Max’s words.
He was a deified figure to Easterners, thanks to novelists who portrayed him in a charming light as a trapper.
“That’s why novels are novels. They exaggerate a lot and add words that aren’t there. Even the author Emerson Bennett wrote a novel where he put me in a place I’ve never been.”
“What about the memoirs then?”
“Have you read it?”
“A long time ago.”
“It’s only been two years since the memoir came out?!”
“……That’s old to me.”
To be exact, I started reading it during my time as a mercenary.
The first half of the memoir is interesting, with Kit Carson as a mountain man, but the second half, with the Indian Wars, is a waste of space for his rationalizations.
It wasn’t fun.
Anyway, Kit Carson chuckled when he heard that Max had read his memoirs.
“Lieutenant Brewerton, that guy kept asking me to write his memoirs, so I helped him. I’m telling you this, but there are a lot of exaggerations in it.”
“I read it for nothing.”
“…… Well, as long as it’s fun, that’s fine.”
What’s really interesting is that Kit Carson, who spoke English, Spanish, and six Native American languages, was illiterate. So, as Carson said, it would be more accurate to say that he helped write the memoir rather than wrote it himself.
Carson, who had been smiling bitterly, turned his head and looked at Max, who was leisurely following behind him.
“Janelle reminds me of when I was younger. When I was crossing the Rockies with Colonel Fremont, there was no one who could climb mountains as well as I did.”
“John Charles Fremont?”
“That’s right, that Fremont. He lost in the last presidential election, but he was quite a capable man.”
John Charles Frémont, who defeated Lincoln and ran for the Republican presidential nomination, but lost to James Buchanan.
He had been on a trip to California across the Rockies and Salt Lake City, guided by Kit Carson, before the Mexican War broke out.
And Fremont brutally massacres countless Indians in California.
Hasty, contradictory, impulsive and ruthless.
John Charles Frémont, a man who lived a dramatic life of success and miserable failure.
It was his evaluation that was passed down to later generations.
“In what way is Fremont competent?”
“He pioneered California and the West, and won many battles in the Mexican War with bold strategies.”
“And you massacre Indians too?”
“At that time, it was a situation where that couldn’t be helped.”
“What on earth is that situation?”
“Well, you might not understand what I mean when I say coexistence with Indians.”
Max said with a laugh.
“Then please make me understand.”
“Hmm. The struggle to survive on this earth. It’s like the law of nature that the strong survive.”
“If you have power, anything is acceptable.”
“I don’t agree with it, but that’s the way the world works.”
Kit Carson, who belonged to that world, simply watched, observed, and spoke from a cynical standpoint.
This was not worth hearing.
Max closed his mouth and tried to quicken his steps.
But Kit Carson stopped him.
“Do you, sir, truly believe that there is an Oriental saint?”
“Why are you suddenly asking that?”
“It’s because you seem to see the world too lightly. The story about the president, and how can you resolve the conflict with the Mormons? If you are intoxicated by the word saint and think of it as power, then stop here.”
“Do I look that sloppy?”
A small sigh escaped Kit Carson’s lips as he looked into Max’s eyes.
“Coexistence with Indians and all. Honestly, you just seem like a dreamer who can’t tell reality from reality. Thinking that everything goes your way. That’s a very dangerous idea.”
“hmm.”
Max, sitting on a rock, handed Carson some dried beef jerky and began to speak.
“As for the saint, it’s just a myth created by rumors that are more exaggerated than fiction. Besides, I doubt that the Mormons would treat me as a saint. But whatever it is, it’s worth using.”
At least, if anyone who has eaten buffalo meat welcomes Max, where is that?
“The important thing is that it gave me a pretext to meet with Mormon leader Brigham Young and the weight of my words became a little heavier.”
“What do you hope to achieve by doing that?”
“It’s about protecting the area from Washington and buying time.”
“hour?”
“It’s time for the child to become an adult.”
Carson, who at one point began to hate the very thought itself, frowned as if he found it difficult to understand for the time being.
Max told Carson the small but absurd story of why he became a saint of the Oregon Trail.
“The misunderstanding grew like a snowball. You were the one who didn’t think about it.”
“Well, if you didn’t have the heart to help someone, you wouldn’t have done it in the first place. And since you’re taking action to change something, you can use that incident to your advantage.”
“…… It seems like you have something to say to me. Don’t beat around the bush, just say what you want to say.”
Carson looked at Max, saying he hated complicated things.
“What would you do if the feds told you to kill Indians?”
I asked a question about what might happen in the future.
Carson, who we have watched so far, will rationalize the situation and justify his actions.
As expected, after much thought, I nodded.
“If I have to do it, I will.”
“So you’re saying that you’ll follow me even if it goes against your ideals?”
“……I am also a citizen of the United States.”
“Then, Carson, you too. You will admire someone like the people in the East who admire you.”
“What are you talking about?”
Max’s deep eyes stared at Carson.
“I will do what you can’t do, what you’ve never done. You will admire me for that.”
“……”
“Mines, Mormonism is just the beginning.”
At first glance, it may seem arrogant and presumptuous, but considering what Max has shown so far, it is not something to be taken lightly. Carson kept his mouth shut and thought about Max’s words. There was silence for a moment, and Max, who had been chewing on his beef jerky in a combative manner, soon stood up.
“Let’s go. We have a lot to do.”
Carson, who lived among the Indians.
The main reason he lost his compass in life was because he lost his two Indian wives and his daughters to illness and accidents.
But just now, Max managed to rekindle the spark of passion and motivation that had died down in life.
‘It’s Tokyo.’
Carson looked at Max’s back as he walked ahead, lost in thought.
*
It’s been a week since we left for the Rockies.
Upon arriving at the fortress, Max ordered preparations to secretly transport the gold mined so far to the main bank.
‘Let’s meet the governor, take care of the gold, and while we’re at it, let’s visit Lawrence too.’
When I was handling urgent documents at the office.
Sancho came in. He was flushed and leaned his head against the table, his hands resting on it.
“If you turn your head to the left in the tent, you see a black person. If you turn to the right, you see a Chinese person.”
“The tent seems thin. Can you see it from inside?”
“…… Across the street are white people, and next to them are Indians.”
“So. You don’t like it?”
“No. I love it so much I’m going crazy.”
Sancho bit his teeth and smiled deeply.
I think it’s because I really like it.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“If you were going to test what I said back then, you should have seen me here and there. My colleagues and I never discriminate against anyone based on skin color or nationality!”
Sancho, who was deluded, raised one corner of his mouth in amazement.
“Okay. Other than that? Is there anything else you want to say?”
“…… no.”
“But, isn’t it time for you to work?”
“It’s lunch time.”
“Go quickly before it ends.”
“Well. But Peach… isn’t that right?”
Max shouted as Sancho turned his back.
“Stop! Pitch what?”
“no.”
“Speak. Before I die.”
“….. Where can I see it? It wasn’t even at the sheriff’s office?”
“Peach… is not.”
“Tell me. I’ll tell you…”
When Max glared at him, Sancho cut off his words and quickly disappeared from the office.
‘Why are you looking for Peach?’
Max, who was looking through the documents, soon sat down in his chair and looked up at the ceiling.
‘I’m worried. Should I take you to Lawrence?’
That evening, Max stopped by the sheriff’s office.
Max stopped in his tracks before wrapping his scarf around the swing door and opening it. Then he stuck his head out like a meerkat and looked around the office.
“I told you, this kid started the fight!”
“How long are you going to keep me here? Are you guys doing this with a warrant?”
“I don’t know about anything else! When are you going to give me food?”
The office is in chaos, reminiscent of a battlefield. There are more than twenty people involved in trouble or accidents.
“Everyone, be quiet. Before I pull out your teeth.”
Hickok growled. Then, the guy who said, “Go ahead and try it,” stuck his mouth out. Some looked at Peach with a sinister look, and others tried to reach out and touch her using the chaotic situation.
And then he finally put his hand on her butt.
‘What a crazy guy!’
When Max tried to push the swing door open.
Peach’s foot flashed and struck the man in the face.
Crack.
The man’s head snapped back and he fell face down.
