A Thread Of Sky by Aidan Alberts

A Thread Of Sky by Aidan Alberts

LEWIS
Missouri River, The Thundering Falls Friday
June 14 1805.

A thread of sky breaks through the trees. Meriwether Lewis, Captain of the Corps of Discovery Expedition, strides out of the shadow and into the light. Raising his free hand, he shades his eyes and overlooks a great grassy plain. The Captain can see the sapphire Missouri River snaking toward the snowclad southern mountains.

He turns his attention to vast flocks of young geese. The birds have become completely feathered in all areas except for one crucial spot.

Their wings still lack the feathers needed for flight.

Descending the hill, Captain Lewis plans a hike to the bend in the Missouri that he had spotted from above. Rounding a boulder, there are at least one thousand buffalo grazing and drinking on the river.

Captain Lewis stands his 1792 Contract Short Rifle upright on the western wheatgrass. After pouring black powder in the barrel, he places a patched round ball on top of the muzzle. The careful but efficient Captain firmly pushes the bullet with his ramrod until it rests on the black powder. He opens the frizzen and puts a small amount of fine gunpowder on the priming pan. He then closes the frizzen.

What’s that sound?

With his focus no longer on his rifle, the Captain looks in the direction of the noise. A fat buffalo forty paces away has taken a curious step toward him. Captain Lewis stands still as the buffalo resumes drinking from the river.

Alright, Meriwether, let’s have this done with.

Holding the rifle in his arms, Captain Lewis is quite glad that he had ordered the gunsmiths to modify his weapon. The rifle’s shortened barrel and enlarged bore, custom-fit for close-quarters hunting, rested confidently in his hands.

As he pulled the hammer back into the cocked position, the metal rib under the barrel protecting the ramrod felt cold in his hand. The Captain raised the rifle to his shoulder and aligned his rifle’s sights on the buffalo’s vital organs. Squeezing the trigger, a chain reaction is set off: flint strikes the frizzen, sparks ignite the powder in the priming pan, and the main powder charge explodes. A spherical bullet rifles through the barrel.

The bullet rips through the buffalo’s side. A brilliant shower of ruby-red paints the western wheatgrass as the massive beast groans but does not collapse. Staggering on its four muscular legs, the buffalo discharges blood from its mouth and nostrils. The bubbling appearance of the blood proves to Lewis that he hit close to his mark.

While the beast dies, Lewis reflects on the quantity of meat that it will provide his men back at camp. The entirety of the animal from its muscle, hide, sinews, bones, and organs will be used. Standing defiant, blood soaks the animal’s fur.

As he waits, Lewis remembers joining the Virginia militia to put down the Whiskey Rebellion of 1794. Leaving for the conflict meant he had to abandon the light of his life, Charlotte. Her belly slightly humped with new life, Lewis swore to himself that he would do everything possible to survive to see her and his child again. On the very border of the frontier, as the sun reflects on the brilliant cerulean water of the Missouri, he is reminded of when he said goodbye.

Please, Meriwether, do not leave me… said Charlotte.

With the final boat boarding calls being called out, Lewis stepped back. Squeezing both of his hands, Charlotte’s arms were fully extended as her fingers slipped out of his hands. Lewis grabbed his things and walked toward the boat. The lapping of the fast flowing river against the boat sides muffled the sound of the crew talking to each other.

Wait, she said, trailing after Lewis. We were supposed to be together. We promised to care for each other. Her cheeks shined pink and the sunlight reflected off the wet sheen of her face.

Lewis stepped onto the boat boarding ramp and put his gear down.

Don’t cry Charlotte, thought Lewis, as he waved goodbye. There will be a day when we will be together again. God-willing. I hope—

But the boat had drifted too far away and the rushing river carried away his thoughts. A hot uncomfortable feeling suddenly arose inside of the young man. Leaning dangerously far over the railing, Lewis yelled as loud as he could.

I hope it will be a boy! I hope Christ above and this great nation take care of you both! I——

 Charlotte was much too far off to be in earshot anymore. Lewis gripped the railing hard until his knuckles turned white. He turned around, resolved to go to fight for his country, even if it meant he might never see her again.

A cracking branch behind the Captain shatters this memory.

Whirling around, he sees a monster. A large brown bear is a mere sixty feet away. Instinctively he swings his rifle up to fire on the beast.

Curse it!

Since downing the buffalo, the rifle had not been reloaded.

The bear briskly advanced.

Open level plain. No bushes to dive into. No trees to climb for at least three hundred yards. The river here is shallow.

Twisting his body around, the bear charged.

Running as fast as he ever had with his rifle and espontoon spear in hand, he leaped over mounds of grass. He could hear the snarling of the predator right behind him. There was no way he could outrun it.

Swinging his head to the right, he saw an opening to the river. Vaulting through the air, he dropped his useless rifle onto the shore, but he managed to keep hold of his espontoon. His feet firmly planted into the sandy bottom as he plunged into the stream. He quickly made for deeper water.

If I can get deep enough so that he must swim, then I might be able to defend myself.

Finding the deepest water available, he turned and faced his enemy. Holding onto his steel espontoon spear with both hands, he stared down his foe about twenty feet away on the riverbank.

He locked eye contact with the leviathan of this uncharted land. Lewis had always been a hunter. He was known as the type of boy who would go out in the middle of winter to hunt birds with his dog. In the beast’s unfeeling brown eyes, he could feel that the foundation of nature was a harmony of violence and death. The grizzly’s blank stare proved that they would never share any understanding; for nature knew not kinship or mercy and now the hunter had become the hunted.

Rearing up on its hind legs, the bear froze in place. In this moment of tension, the river stopped flowing as if winter had arrived, but it was June. Canadian geese were suspended motionless in the air above the two warriors. The river disappeared into a world of darkness lit only by fire where he and the bear opposed one another.

Firelight reflected off the blade of the espontoon.

The reared mass of fur and claws landed back down on its four paws and pitched toward the naked man. Plunging into the point of the spear, the bear-spirit roared and faltered to the side.

Bellowing, the muscular body of Lewis leaped onto the back of the demon. Swiping at the bear’s tough hide with a frontier knife, bright crimson slashes of torn flesh appeared. The grizzly roared and bucked upward. Lewis flew ten feet to the side and landed on a hard patch of volcanic rock. He groaned as he felt something in his back snap.

The bear wheeled about. Soaked in its blood, it began to lumber toward the injured man. Lewis willed his lower half to move but his muscles strained in vain.

This is it then.

The bear came within a few feet of his sweating face. The Captain could smell the carrion-reek of its breath. Hot air blew from the beast’s black nostrils as horrid white canines were unsheathed behind its lips.

The frontier knife still rested in his right hand.

As the bear collapsed its weight on the human, crushing his already broken body, Lewis held the frontier knife like a pike. The grizzly’s chest sunk deep into the sharp blade and the man thrust his arms up into its steaming innards as the knife found the heart.

Reeling off its prey, the bear staggered with the knife still inside. Standing on its hind paws, the billowing smoke behind it dissipated. This world of fire shifted and suddenly the beast and man were floating in black.

 The darkness behind the bear was thrown back and from it burst forth an ice-blue torrent of the enormous waterfall. The grizzly’s heart beat madly as misty images of Great Plains creatures sprinted out of this cascade of dreams.

The bear disappeared but the waterfall remained. This massive flow landing on the jumbled rockfall below created a watery image. A giant cave bear, long since extinct, towered in front of the falls and then was gone.

This phantasmic realm fractured, returning the Captain to the world of mortals.

Captain Lewis felt the frigid rushing of water around his legs. The river washed away his memories and his injuries from the spiritual battle. His only recollection of the encounter was a strange déjà vu. The bear took one more hard look at him and then veered off to its left into the open plain. Trudging out of the river, Lewis retrieved his rifle and reloaded in preparation for the next encounter. With the rifle loaded, he strode forward with a newfound confidence and strength.

* * * * The End * * * *
Copyright Aidan Alberts 2025