Franklin Pierce was president of the United States in 1855, the Mexican War had just ended, the horrors of the American Civil War had not yet begun. The last of the free spirits known as the Mountain Men were securing their place in the legends of the frontier. Among these fierce adventurers was a man who called himself Highpockets.
Into the harsh wilderness Highpockets had come to escape the soot of the cities and the terrible memories of war; with nothing but the strength of his heart sand hands he had carved out a life of freedom in the nearly inaccessible high places of the Rocky Mountains.
In the autumn of his days Highpockets stumbled across a half-frozen, half-dead immigrant boy who had wandered in the snow and ice—terrified after having been separated from the wagon train carrying his Eastern European family across the vast new world.
Highpockets called the boy Cub and took him to the wilderness domain the old man called My Mountain. There, for one long winter, they lived together; the young boy learned a new language and a way of life that he’d never even imagined existed. By the end of the winter, the old man knew that Cub had learned everything he needed to know to survive in a land as dangerous as it was awesomely beautiful.
It would have to be enough and more than enough . . . for at the end of that winter Highpockets had agreed to face the council of his old enemy, Painted Elk, to atone for the murder of the chief’s son.
Both Cub and Highpockets would be judged by the council of Elders . . . and both would learn that justice in the high places was both fair . . . and deadly.