“What do you mean?” Francis asked. “Braid’s dead.” He pointed to where the Indian lay in the snow. The mounted warriors were now around the body in a half circle. “It’s done.”

“Not done yet,” Mr. Grimes repeated, staggering. He pulled out his skinning knife. “One more thing to do.” Weaving drunkenly, he made his way to the body of his enemy. Then he leaned down.

“No!” Francis screamed. “You can’t …” He ran and pulled the mountain man away. This, somehow, was worse than all the rest. To kill Braid was one thing, perhaps even right, in the cold-blooded justice that ruled the prairie. But not this—this animal thing.

“Can’t, Mr. Tucket?” Mr. Grimes said, laughing hoarsely. “And why not? He would have done the same to me …”

Francis stared in horror, then turned away. Many things were suddenly clear to him, and the biggest was that Mr. Grimes was right. He could do what he was doing, simply because he was ruled by the same law that ruled Braid. He was of the prairie, the land, the mountains—and was, in a way, a kind of animal. It was not wrong—not for Jason Grimes.

But for Francis Alphonse Tucket? For someone from a farm in Missouri? For someone with a family waiting in Oregon?

There were different rules for different people. One set for Mr. Grimes, but, Francis thought, as he reached his horse, there was a different set for him. He was not and did not want to be a “mountain man.”

He mounted the horse. Mr. Grimes would be all right, he knew. The fight had been fair in the Indians’ eyes, and besides, they wanted to keep on trading for powder. No, the Indians wouldn’t kill Mr. Grimes, and his shoulder would heal. Soon he would be trapping again.

But this time without me, Francis told himself, squaring his shoulders. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. A boy named Francis Alphonse Tucket might stay and live wild and follow the beaver ponds. But Francis Alphonse Tucket wasn’t a boy anymore. Jason Grimes had made that boy Mr. Tucket and Mr. Tucket was going to Oregon, to his family, to his kind of life—to his set of rules.

Francis slapped the horse as hard as he could and headed for the wagon train. And somehow he knew he’d better not look back at Mr. Grimes—not even to wave a good-bye.

GARY PAULSEN’S WESTERN SAGA CONTINUES IN …

CALL ME FRANCIS TUCKET

After a year with Mr. Grimes, Francis has learned to live by the harsh code of the wilderness. He can cause a stampede, survive his own mistakes, and face up to desperadoes. But when he rescues a little girl and her younger brother, Francis takes on more than he bargained for.

Available from Yearling Books

Excerpt from Call Me Francis Tucket by Gary Paulsen

Copyright © 1995 by Gary Paulsen