“Teaspoon got a package.”
The other riders stopped in their tracks, the single sentence striking
fear in their hearts. The last “package” the station manager had received
had brought about an all out brawl as Teaspoon had attempted to bring “culture”
to the station by introducing them to the game of baseball.
“What this time?” Hickok asked wearily.
“Not real sure,” the messenger, Cody, replied. “But he was real
excited. Said something about never being snowed in again.”
“I don’t think they’ve invented a weather making machine yet, Ike,” Buck
laughed in response to the excited signs from his silent companion.
“How big was this package?” Lou asked as she resumed her enthusiastic
currying of her favorite pony. Far and away the smallest member of
the group, she vividly remembered her fall from the velocipede-yet another
of Teaspoon’s attempt to revolutionize the Pony Express service. “Couldn’t
have been much since the stage hasn’t gotten through yet.”
“Not a box,” Cody related. “But it was a big envelope. Looked
like some papers and a book.”
Further conversation was cut short as the subject himself entered the
barn. Pulling the door shut tightly against the biting wind of yet
another blizzard, Teaspoon Hunter resembled a thin snowman. The short
walk from the house in the driving snow had coated every inch of the man.
Brushing the offending substance from his hair and clothing, he made his
way to where the riders stood waiting.
“Looks like the run tomorrow is going to be delayed,” he grumbled by way
of a greeting. “Even if the wind dies down, the snow’s too deep.”
“I just hope Kid made it through before the blizzard hit,” Lou murmured
absently.
“He’s all right,” Buck responded immediately.
“Sure he is!” Jimmy agreed. “He had plenty of time.”
Ike’s hands moved in a series of signs.
“I know, Ike,” Lou answered with a sigh. “Just can’t help worrying
about him.”
“Well I got something that’ll take your mind off Kid for a spell,” Teaspoon
said with a grin. “But I’m going to need your help.”
“What kind of help?” Buck asked cautiously, well aware of the glint in
Teaspoon’s eyes.
“Finish your chores,” Teaspoon ordered, avoiding the question. “Then
come on up to the house and I’ll explain it all to you.”
Turning his collar up against the wind, he strode to the door and beyond,
leaving questioning-and worried-looks behind.
“Boys, this here is what is known as a pair of skate skis,” Teaspoon began,
holding a drawing up for all to see and admire. His eyes took on that
far-away look the riders had come to dread.
“What’re we going to do with that?” Cody asked, earning a glare from his
companions.
“In 1856, a man by the name of John Thompson-Snowshoe to his friends-started
delivering the mail up in the Sierras on just such skis,” Teaspoon explained.
“He goes places even horses can’t go.” He paused for a moment, then
added dramatically, “He travels ninety miles in just three days on average
up in the mountains.”
“But that’s the mountains, Teaspoon,” Lou objected. “How’re we supposed
to use these . . . skis on the prairie?”
“That’s what this here book explains,” Teaspoon answered excitedly.
The riders looked at the book the station manager held aloft. Even
Lou was unable to decipher the title.
“What kind of book is that?” Buck asked.
“Don’t look like English to me,” Cody agreed.
“It’s Swedish,” Teaspoon confessed sheepishly.
“SWEDISH?” Four voices echoed back.
“Ike’s right, Teaspoon,” Buck said, translating his friend’s signs.
“None of us know Swedish. Who’s going to read the book?”
None of the five even questioned that somehow they would be taking part
in the latest scheme, no matter how hair-brained it might seem. They
all knew that once Teaspoon Hunter set his mind on something, it was easier
to just go along with him.
“You see that’s the beauty of this book,” Teaspoon replied. “You
don’t need to read it. It has enough pictures that we should be able
to figure it all out. This letter I got from Snowshoe hisself will
explain what the book doesn’t.”
“Leave it to Teaspoon to know the man,” Cody muttered softly.
Teaspoon began to flip through the pages of the book, showing them picture
after picture, pointedly ignoring the look of resigned panic that crossed
each of their faces.
~
“What I don’t understand,” Jimmy said later, after Teaspoon had wound
down a bit, “is where we are going to get skis? It’s going to be spring
before the stage gets through.”
“We’re gonna make ‘em!” Teaspoon explained. “Snowshoe says here,
he made his own skis out of an oak sapling.”
Another look passed between the riders and was again ignored by the man.
He had a mission and, by golly, nothing was going to keep him from making
an innovative change. He knew if mail could be delivered in the worst
of the Sierra snows, it could be delivered across the plains of the Nebraska
territory.
“Buck, I want you and Ike to go cut me down a sapling,” Teaspoon ordered.
“Make it as long and as straight as you can find. At least fifteen
feet and at least eight inches around. Jimmy, I need you to find me
a sapling about yea big around by about, oh, six feet long.”
“Can’t we wait until the blizzard’s done with?” Jimmy asked plaintively.
“Be wasting time,” Teaspoon argued. “This snow could go on for days
and we got us a lot of work to do.”
Sighing with resignation, the three appointees set about getting into
their coats. Lou and Cody suppressed a laugh as they heard Buck say,
“How do I know where we’re going to find a fifteen foot oak sapling around
here, Ike!”
“You sure that’s how they’re supposed to look?” Lou questioned three days
later, staring at the newly carved “skis.”
Teaspoon had been working almost non-stop to create the new contraption.
While what lay before them bore a resemblance to what was in the book, there
were differences-changes made due to the lack of equipment.
The “tree” the boys had found wasn’t exactly oak-in fact it was a piece
of scrub pine and Teaspoon had taken liberties in the carving as well.
At least the bottom was flat and the tips curved up but the top portion looked
a bit more like a dugout canoe than the flat pieces of wood shown in the
pictures. Lacking the metal to create a place for boots, the designer
had carved holes in the side of the wood and laced rawhide straps that could
be tied tightly, holding the skier’s foot in place.
Teaspoon looked at his creation, pride written across his face.
“Now all we have to do is teach you boys to use these,” he said confidently.
Jimmy looked at the contraption, a less than satisfied look on his face.
“Wonder how long it will take Doc to get out here.”
The snow stopped early the next morning and nothing would stop Teaspoon
from starting the “training.”
“The first thing you gotta learn is how to make the skis move,” he told
the riders. “According to Snowshoe it’s called the ‘diagonal stride’.”
“I thought we want to go in a straight line,” Cody responded.
“You do but the way you do that is by hopping back and forth from one
side to the other and moving first one foot forward and then the other,”
Teaspoon explained.
“Huh?”
“All right, it’s supposed to be a lot like walking. You just shift
your weight back and forth while you move forward.”
“Teaspoon,” Lou pleaded, “we don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.
How are we supposed to do this if none of us can understand the instructions?”
“It’s real simple,” Teaspoon replied. “Just step on the skis and
walk.”
“Easy for you to say,” Lou countered. “You’re bigger than me.”
“Yeah, Teaspoon,” Cody agreed. “These things must weigh close to
fifty pounds. How are we supposed to make them move?”
Teaspoon sighed heavily. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to show you
how easy it is.”
Stepping forward, he carefully placed his feet into the straps and tied
the ends tightly. Taking the balance pole from Ike, he took a tentative
step forward-and promptly fell flat on his face. The boys and Lou rushed
to his side and helped him stand.
“Teaspoon, this is crazy!” Buck exclaimed. “The skis are just too
heavy.”
“If Snowshoe Johnson can do it, I can!” Teaspoon stated firmly.
Inhaling, he tried again. This time the left ski slid forward-and
continued to slide until the older man’s feet were split as far apart as
was humanly possible. Once again, it took Buck and Jimmy to get him
back on his feet.
“DON’T say it!” he ordered as Cody’s mouth opened. “I CAN do this
and so can you!”
This time Teaspoon carefully stepped forward and was able to stop his
foot before it got too far. He shifted his weight and pushed the other
leg forward. After a few more steps he had actually moved several feet
and a pleased-as-punch smile spread across his face.
Turning to the still skeptical riders, he laughed and said, “See, easy
as pie!”
He continued moving across the yard until he reached a small rise, the
others following a few paces behind. “Now, the trick here is to get
up the hill so you can sail down the other side,” he explained. “Snowshoe
says it’s called Herringbone step. You put your tips outward to form
a V and then step upward with your ski's one after another.” As he spoke,
he demonstrated the technique. “See,” he repeated, “easy as . . . “
His words ended in a squeak as he began to slide backwards down the short
slope. His students scrambled to get out of his way as he slid past
them to end up several feet back from where he had originally started.
Sighing with determination, he started again, this time making it to the
top of the slope.
“Now, all you gotta do is slide down the other side and . . . “
Again the words trailed off as he took a step forward and promptly started
sliding down the hill, gaining speed along the way until he was moving too
fast for the others to keep up.
The riders could see him frantically trying to get the balance pole in
a position to stop his forward progress. Cody was the first to start
laughing. Soon all of them had stopped trying to catch up and were instead
trying to catch their breath.
“Guess . . . he should have . . . read how . . . to stop first,” Hickok
gasped between bouts of laughter.
Seconds later the laughter stopped as they realized that Teaspoon was
headed straight for a large gully.
“WATCH OUT!” Lou screamed.
“FALL DOWN!” Buck shouted.
The sound of the man screaming “WHOA!” was heard before they saw him drop
out of sight over the edge of the gully. As one they ran forward.
Cautiously approaching the edge of the gully, they scanned the ground below
looking for their fallen friend.
“Teaspoon?” Lou called apprehensively.
“Help!” a muffled voice called out from just below them.
Jimmy held Buck’s arm as the Kiowa leaned as far over the edge of the
gully as he could.
“He’s on a ledge about six feet down,” Buck told them. “We’re going
to need a rope.”
Ike was already running back to the barn, returning a few minutes later
leading two horses and carrying a rope. He handed the rope and the
reins of one horse to Jimmy and then leaped to the saddle of the other, riding
off in the direction of town. No one had to tell them that the sooner
Doc got to the station the better.
Using the horse as an anchor, Buck lowered himself over the edge of the
gully and carefully dropped to the ledge. “Teaspoon?” he questioned.
“I’m all right,” the other man responded. “At least I don’t think
I’ve broke anything.”
The skis had been caught in a clump of rocks so Teaspoon hung, upside
down, the upper half of his body over the edge. Buck considered the
situation for a bit before deciding that moving the man would be as safe
as leaving him hanging. “I’m going to need help,” he called up.
Movement indicated that someone was working their way down the rope.
Seconds later Jimmy Hickok stood at his side, gaping at their fallen companion.
“How-“ he started, but Buck cut him off.
“You hold him and I’ll cut him free,” the Kiowa ordered.
After carefully tying the rope around Teaspoon’s waist, he made sure that
Jimmy had a secure hold, then pulled his knife from its sheath to cut the
laces on the skis. Scrambling quickly to help Hickok, the pair soon
had Teaspoon in a seated position on the ledge.
“Don’t move!” Buck ordered as he checked the man for injuries.
“I’m all right!” Teaspoon argued. “I’ve had worse falls from a horse.”
“Yeah, but when’s the last time a horse threw you off a cliff?” Jimmy
countered.
“Just get me up,” Teaspoon responded, angrily.
The two boys looked at each other, then shrugged. Calling up to
Cody and Lou, they helped Teaspoon up the side of the cliff and then easily
climbed the rope to join him.
“Come on, let’s get you back to the house,” Lou suggested, solicitously.
“I’m ALL RIGHT!” Teaspoon told them again. “I just can’t figure
out what went wrong.”
“It’s simple,” Cody said, holding back a laugh. “Snowshoe must have
forgotten the part about how to stop.”
“How is he, Doc?” Lou asked as the doctor stepped from the room where
they had left Teaspoon earlier.
“He’ll be sore for a few days, but nothing is broken,” the older man replied.
“What in the world was he up to this time?”
“He was teaching us to ski,” Cody explained.
“SKI?” the doctor responded incredulously. “I do NOT believe . .
. all right I DO believe it. I’ll leave you some laudanum in case he
complains of pain, but I don’t really think he’ll need any.”
Buttoning his coat as he started for the door the doctor looked back at
the room. Shaking his head, he muttered under his breath, “Silly old
coot . . . skiing!”
Winter struck again that evening. Emma had suggested that the riders
move up to the house for the time being, just in case she needed help with
Teaspoon. While the wind howled around the house, inside it was quite
comfortable and warm. The boys, Lou and Emma had just settled down
in the parlor when they heard Teaspoon yell.
Running to the bedroom, the group skidded to a halt at the door.
“What’s wrong?” Emma asked, concerned.
“Where are they?” Teaspoon asked.
“Where is who?”
“The skis! Where are the skis?”
Jimmy looked at the others, then confessed. “We kinda left ‘em behind.”
Teaspoon glared at them. “Well, I guess we won’t be getting to them
any time soon.”
“I don’t think we could find the gully right now,” Buck told him.
“Let alone the pair of skis.”
“Well then, I guess we’ll just have to make another pair!” Teaspoon replied.
“First thing tomorrow, I want you and Ike to go find . . . “
The End
