Keep My White Sneakers, Kit Carson: An Adventure with the Blackfeet

All Rights Reserved © 2002 by Frederick E. Von Burg

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

Writers Club Press

an imprint of iUniverse, Inc.

For information address:

iUniverse, Inc.

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Lincoln, NE 68512

www.iuniverse.com

This is an historical novel, and other than the names of historical characters, they and other characters are purely fictional.

ISBN: 0-595-24264-2

ISBN: 978-1-4697-2089-0 (ebook)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Acknowledgements

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

To Greg, who gave me the time to write this story, to Fred, Jr., Paul, and to Gunnar, Olivia, Katrina and Peter.

Acknowledgements 

The inspiration of this book was King of the Mountain Men by Gene Caesar (New York, E.P. Dutton Co., 1961). I picked that book up from a library table of worn out books, and didn’t put it down until I’d finished it. I thank John C. Ewers for his informative book, The Blackfeet (U. of Oklahoma Press, 1983). I also owe a debt of gratitude to my wife, Loretta; my sons, Gregory, Paul, and Frederick, Jr.; Joe Malone, my computer mentor, and the Scouts who asked for a story around the camp fire, as well as the many people who have encouraged my writing.

CHAPTER 1 

As Ted walked to his hated physics class, Moira passed him in the hall and slipped him a note. See you later, she said.

Flattered to get this unexpected attention, he stopped to read it in front of the school library, where a substitute teacher was sitting in the hall monitor’s chair.

Substitute? He took a closer look at him. Was he dressed for Halloween or what? The man had on a ‘coonskin cap with the tail hanging over his shoulder—you couldn’t tell where his beard ended and the ‘coon tail began. But what he wore was no costume. The fringes of his buckskin jacket were torn, and his buckskin pants were worn at the knees, as were the denim dungarees of the students in the school. To rent a costume like that, with the moccasins that came up over the ankles would have cost big bucks, no pun intended.

Some of the other students who happened to pass the library just stared or smiled, probably thinking it was publicity for the Halloween Dance. Ted noticed the expression on his face—it was that of a man who was looking at a problem he didn’t understand. He looked surprised and confused, all at the same time. And he couldn’t have been there long, because the large hunting knife that hung from his belt in a leather sheath with Indian bead decoration was enough to get him expelled from school.

Excuse me sir, but are you a visitor to the school? Ted was as polite as he could be. He didn’t want to get on the wrong side of this fellow.

The man looked at Ted’s clothing. Ah reckon there ain’t no figurin’ this out no how. Yup, Ah’m uh visitor. Name’s Jim Bridger.

Are you from the Rocky Mountain area near here?

Heck, Ah’m a mountain man since Ah wuz your age. But what Ah cain’t figure out, is whut happened to muh wife. Ah wuz talkin’ to her when that high soundin’ buzzin’ started.

Buzzing? Are you lost?

You bet Ah’m lost. Ain’t been in this kind of predicament sence Ah tried escapin’ them Blackfeet.

Ted decided the man was not drunk. There were no such indications. He was too alert to be on pot. He didn’t have the characteristics of some kind of escapee, either, because where would he get these authentic-looking clothes? Was he from some movie location near the city?

Ef’n you could show me the way out o’ this buildin’, Ah’d be much obliged, the man said, so Ted simply replied, Follow me.

Mrs. Webster, the assistant principal, was coming down the cross hall on her flamingo legs, so Ted steered the man who said his name was Jim Bridger around the auditorium to the front door. Funny that the man could not remember where that was. He must have come in that way. Was he a street person, confused, mentally unbalanced, who had wandered into the building?

Seeing the front door, Jim walked ahead in a loping gait that was much faster than it looked. As Ted passed the library door, the librarian, Mrs. Somerfeld, looked out and asked Ted, Is that man with you?

Yes, ma’am, Ted replied. Says his name is Jim Bridger.

You’d better bring him to the office, Mrs. Somerfeld said uncertainly, because Jim Bridger died more than a hundred years ago. He was one of the most famous mountain men ever.

But Jim’s lope had by that time taken him around the auditorium and he was already out the door when Ted caught up with him.

They were in the brisk autumn air, within view of the high school parking lot, the football field, and the woods beyond. Ted led the man into the parking lot where he knew Mrs. Webster wouldn’t follow them, and Jim stood still, an astonished look on his face.

What kind of wagons are these? he asked, pointing to the parked cars.

Ted had the impression that Jim was from another century—a time traveler or a Rip Van Winkle, someone who had been by-passed by time. These are cars; they don’t need horses. They have a motor in the front underneath the hood, which makes them go. You might call them horseless carriages. Tell me, Mr. Bridger, are you from another time?

Waal, this mawning it were about October, 1835. Ah don’t know the exact date, but it were a Tuesday. Mah wife, a good squaw, was gatherin’ wood at th’ other end o’th’ clearin’ and then…. He shook his head as if to shake things into place. Ah heerd thet buzzin’…cracklin’ noise, thunder…and Ah’m here.

Here, where we’re standing?

No, inside, whar you first spoke t’ me. He turned and regarded the sign posted outside the front door on two walnut stained posts. What do them words say? he asked.

Denver North Regional High School.

Uh huh, thet’s whut Ah thought—a school. Derned if it’s any-thin’ like the schools Ah know. Yuh say Ah’m from anuther time. Whut time is this?

This is the Twenty-first Century. The twenty hundreds.

Waal, Ah better find m’self a place t’ camp until Ah can figure uh way back to 1835. He looked toward the woods in back of the parking lot, and then turned to regard Ted with a searching eye. Kin you figure a way t’ git back?

No, not now. But I’ll try to find out. Can I find you in the woods over there if I come up with any kind of answer?

Ah reckon so. Tell me, is there any kind of fresh water in them thar woods?

I don’t think so. If you need water to camp, there’s a spigot in the back of the gym for watering the football field.

Gym? Jim Bridger looked puzzled.

Gymnasium. That’s that large part of the building with the high windows, over there.

All right. Yuh sure got some strange words in th’ Twenty-first Century.

I have to go now, Mr. Bridger. I’m already late for my physics class. Mr. Alderson will be annoyed.

Jim Bridger gave him a wave and started towards the woods. Ted stood a minute watching him, and then remembered the note. He pulled it out of his pocket and opened it. Dear Ted, it read, I can’t go to the Halloween dance with you because I’m going with Dalton Hertzman. Sorry. Moira. Dalton was a fullback.

Who am I? Ted wondered.

Ted had just slipped into his seat in physics class, and he was aware of a frown above Mr. Alderson’s thick glasses and a series of lines on the board that resembled the pleats of an accordion, now close together, now widely separated. Ted put his books in front of him on the blacktopped table at which he sat. He glanced at Moira, the beautiful, in the row in front of him. She was doodling in the column next to her notes. He wondered if she was even aware that he had entered the classroom.

Something Mr. Alderson was saying caught Ted’s attention. Time, yes, he had mentioned time. Time squared.

This brings up something related. It’s conceivable that time, which we regard as being constant or the same throughout the centuries of the earth’s existence, may really have been hurried up during some periods and slowed down during others. This may mean that some things happened in time much faster than we think they did.

Ted was really listening now, in a way that he had not listened for a long time. Mr. Alderson picked up a pointer and pointed to the lines on the board, where they were compressed. This would represent an era or eon when time was speeded up, and pointing to a part of the board where the lines were widely spaced, he said, And this would represent an age when time was slowed down.

Ted thought about Jim Bridger.

Of course, Mr. Alderson continued, this is only a theory, and it has not yet been proved. As a matter of fact, there are a number of college professors who are working on it, including someone at the University of Colorado, not far from here.

Ted raised his hand. Mr. Alderson looked delighted and said, Hey we must be onto something. Even Ted Bruckner is asking questions.

Mr. Alderson…. Ted realized the whole class, even Moira, had turned to look at him. He continued, is it possible that the time compression could become so great in certain centuries that objects or people could be squeezed or even thrown into other centuries?

There was a long, almost stunned silence. Mr. Alderson was looking at Ted with a strange smile on his face.

Is this supposed to be a funny question? He paused. Then, Ted, that’s a very astute question. I really don’t know the answer to that. There are no known cases of people being transported. But I wouldn’t rule out such a possibility. If you’d like to know more about it, see me after class.

For the rest of the period Ted paid Mr. Alderson the tribute of giving him his best attention. The man actually knew more than Ted! And it was very important to the mystery of Jim Bridger. Was he just a harmless derelict who liked to dress up the way kids dress up for Halloween? Was there any truth to his claims that the last thing he remembered was being in 1835? Or could he be a demented street person, harmlessly delusional? Yet there were so many things about him, including his alertness, his authentic clothing, and lack of bad habits usually associated with derelicts, which made him appear authentic. There was danger of people misunderstanding him and locking him up or ostracizing him.

The rest of the period went quickly, and at the end, as the other students were clearing out of the classroom, Ted walked up to Mr. Alderson’ laboratory counter which also served as his desk.

"Ted, what prompted your sudden interest this morning? Do you have a curiosity about the workings of time?

Should he tell him about Jim Bridger? Ted couldn’t decide.

Mr. Alderson, a number of strange things happened to me this morning, and that got me thinking about time. By coincidence, it was part of your lesson.

You mean after this we can’t count on your interest any more?

Sure you can. It doesn’t look like I’m going to be able to solve my problem for a long time.

If you want to see it, Ted, I can show you a machine I built in my garage. I’m using it to experiment with time.

Wow, thought Ted. I can’t believe this!

Mr. Alderson’s florid face was turned toward Ted, and he regarded Ted through the thick lenses of his glasses. You’re sure you don’t want to share your time problem with me?

Ted hesitated. I tell you what, Mr. Alderson. When I come to your garage, can I bring a friend? And with that, Ted spilled the whole story of how he met Jim Bridger.

Does your friend ramble when he talks? asked Mr. Alderson.

No, he’s alert and with it.

Coherent?

Yup. Can I bring him?

By all means. I’ll see you both tomorrow an hour after school lets out.

Three-thirty?

That’s fine.

Ted picked up his books. Now, he thought, I hope Jim is still in the woods out behind the parking lot.

It turned out not to be the problem he had anticipated. As he walked out of school after going to his locker at the