Just a short story

The "old" man waded the cold creek and made it to the bank. The water wetted his buckskin leggings up to mid-calf. As he hit the other side he was off again, running as fast as he could through the rockey terrain with the heavy Plains rifle in his right hand. the jagged land was hard on his moccasined feet, so he looked at the ground most of the time as he ran to avoid the large stones. he glanced behind himself and saw the 3 Blackfoot warriors over a hundred yards away, stirring up dust.
He had been setting his traps in the stream, it was an easy set because the weather was mild and he knew summer doin's were right around the corner. So wading the cold creek wasn't so bad, but he had just set the large steel foothold under the water when he heard the mule snort and heard the war hoop. As quick as his chilled body could move he ran.
Off to his right was a deep valley with loads of pines and aspen, he could get into them in minutes and hide and defend himself. Just 3 warriors he could handle with the rifle and pistol. He ran hard. His breath leaping from his chest. He starting seating under his wool shirt and coyote skin hat.
After a few hundred yards of sprinting he was in the trees. And they were thick, maybe thick enough to slow the horses and the warriors. A big pine appeard ahead and he dove behind it and caught his breath. He cocked the hammer on the flintlock and set the second trigger. he aimed the rifle at the opening he had come through and waited.
The warriors appeard and stopped, one was wearing nothing but a breech clout in the chilled air. The other had on a plain buckskin shirt that was bloody, they had only been hunting. He could see a large mule deer across the back of one of the warriors saddles. He picked the one holding the old fusee first and fired. Down he went, they saw the smoked and fired their small longbows at the pine tree that he was now safely behind. More later if anyone reads this...lol