It took some practice on both their parts to get used to the key element of their back up plan: riding Black Elk to safety. The elk-man could easily out run a wolf, especially in the quirky terrain of the canyon, but he was not used to having the extra weight on his back. Their first few attempts at speeds higher than a walk saw Oliver having to wrap his arms around the elk-mans torso. It was difficult to sit the choppy trot of the elks pace without getting bounced off. Since he had no saddle or tack of any sort to make the ride more comfortable the end of the first days practice saw both of them exhausted. The physical exertion combined with Black Elk's freshly mended leg, which was still gaining back the strength it had once possessed, meant that they had to throw in the towel earlier than they might have liked.

After the second day of rough riding Oliver had a few suggestions that Black Elk was more than willing to hear out. He proposed that the elk-man wear a blanket, like the one he usually threw on under Mad Anns saddle, which would give them both some extra padding. He also had dug out an old surcingle that he hadn’t used in years. Not only would it would to give him something other than Black Elks torso or antlers to hold onto but the elk-man could use it to more securely attach any packs or gear he wanted to take with him on his journey to where the bison still roamed. They spent that evening making changes to the surcingle so that Black Elk could don and doff the piece of equipment without help from Oliver.

With the aid of the added hand holds and padding; riding up and down steep creek banks on the third day became much easier. Black Elk also once again had full range of motion without Oliver having to clinging to him quite closely when he trotted or loped along a sandy wash bottom. From then on they practiced each day for a handful of hours so as not to over draw on Black Elks still recovering stamina and give Oliver time to do his own work which had been sorely neglected recently.

Black Elk tagged along when he went to check and set traps or go hunting for bigger game. It did not seem to bother the elk-man when he skinned a rabbit or broke the neck of a fat turkey instead he simply went on about his own business of collecting edible foliage. He would even occasionally point out a fresh game trail. One afternoon, while Oliver skinned and gutted a white tailed deer, he even stood over and studied the way in which the knife was used to separate the hide from the edible meat.

“It don’t bother ya none watchin' me do this?' Oliver asked with a quick glance up at the finely chiseled face of his companion as he scooped up the deers innards and spread them out for the scavengers.

“No, should it?”

“Thought it might, bein' as ya dont eat meat n all.”

“Perhaps it would if you were wasteful. This is not so. You do not leave the meat to spoil and keep only the hides of your prey. This is good. You will need all of the stores that you can gather for the coming winter.” The elk-man said plainly as he gently deposited another handful of ripe juniper berries into a small leather pouch.

“Not worth havin' so much good meat go ta rot.' Oliver agreed

Black Elk had helped him pack the carcass back to the dugout where he set about salting and curing the meat while preparing the hide to tan. While he finished his work the elk-man had gone down to the creek. Washing the drying blood off his fur and letting his leg soak in the cool water for a short while. Oliver, with a belly full of roasted turkey and beans, that evening again took stock of his small larder. He'd need to stock up on some of his provisions again soon; especially if what Black Elk had said about him needing to booster his stores for winter was true. At the sound of Mad Anns shod hoovesteps on the packed earth outside to meandered over to the doorway. Black Elk was leading the dark colored mare into the barn.

“Somethin' a miss?' he inquired

“Dv-ga-na-ni.' Came the reply as they disappeared into the dim, lantern lit, interior

“What?”

“It is going to rain.”

And so it did. That night, some time after Oliver fell asleep, it had begun to drizzle and then pour. When he woke the next morning the ground was soaked and covered in a thin layer of ice and frost. It was the first hard freeze of the fall and although it had come late it had not held back. Whatever crops had not already been harvested were certainly not going to be worth much now. He expected to have word of the coming wolf hunt soon. He and Black Elk set about finishing any preparations that they could. The next afternoon, while Black Elk was napping in the barn after a morning round of trap checking, Rusty arrived with the news.

The cowboy, already caked in red mud from the knee down, didn’t have the younger riding partner with him this time. He kept his visit short and to the point. He didn’t even bothering to dismount as he relayed the day and meet-up place to Oliver. Rusty wheeled his horse westward, presumably to go and alert other men who had pledged an interest in the hunt, and was gone almost as quickly as he had arrived. Black Elk appeared at the door to the barn and gave Oliver a knowing look as they both stood with their arms crosses; watching the receding form of the cowboy as he road away.

In ten days time anyone who wished to take part in the hunt was to meet at the JA Ranch headquarters with there own guns and horses. Each hunter would be able to keep the hides of the wolves he shot. A good skin could bring a dollar or two apiece so Oliver expected that any of the farmers who hadn’t had a great harvest that year would be chomping at the bit to be a part of the event. There were many a professional wolf hunter mixed in with what was left of the bison hunters too so there was likely to be a good crowd.

Ten days also meant that the pair of them had about a week to contact, convince, and move those wolves that were willing to go. Oliver would go to see Mr. Conner in the morning and stocking up on supplies both for his own stores and for Black Elk to take on his trip. The elk-man would spend that time looking for an ideal place for the meeting with the wolves. The deadline was in place.

Oliver urged Mad Ann through the thin layer of ice that had formed over the creek the next morning as he rode out. He watched Black Elk disappear deeper into the heart of the canyon out of the corner of his eye as they both went about their separate duties. The dark colored mare shook her self dry a little more aggressively then was probably necessary when they reached the other side. She made it clear her stance on cold morning rides but she was loaded down with cured hides and readily set herself into a trot once they were over the rim of the canyon and onto the rolling hill like plains.

They made good time to the Conners homestead and although the day did not ever truly warm the bite in the panhandle wind lessened for a short time in the afternoon on their way back. They came near enough to a large herd of antelope that Oliver risked taking a shot at one. He managed to drop two before the greater mass of flighty herbivores disappeared over the hill. He gutted his catch and slung one over either side of Anns saddle with the extra rope he kept in his pack. He would walk the rest of the way home leading the heavily laden mare. Having taken the two antelope meant that he didn’t have to go out in search of game to offer the wolves tomorrow. Provided that Black Elk had found an appropriate place for their meeting they would be ready to proceed with their plan by the time he and Mad Ann made it back to the dugout.