Wilderness Double Edition 19, page 11
“Enemy, my ass,” Bittner declared. “She’s a damned kid, for crying out loud. What is she? Eleven? And she’s running us ragged. Try explaining that to Killibrew. He’ll laugh in your face.”
“This girl is not like others. She is part Shoshone, and her parents have taught her well. She thinks and acts as a warrior would. Or as a hunter, like her father.”
“She’s still just a kid.” Bittner said in exasperation. “You have some nerve calling yourself a tracker when she’s outwitted you every step of the way.”
Haro’s tone implied that he disliked the veiled insult. “If Killibrew or you can do better, then you do the tracking.”
“Don’t get touchy on me,” Bittner said. “I’m just telling you how things are.” He indulged in a flurry of cusswords. Nearby branches rustled, followed by a thump. “Ahhh. This is more like it. Make yourself comfortable while I light my pipe.”
“We waste daylight,” Haro said.
“Taken a gander at the sun lately? There ain’t much left. We’ve lost the scent and might as well call it a day.”
“They are here somewhere. I can feel them. If we keep searching—”
Bittner snorted in derision. “Oh, sure. How many acres are we talking about? Fifteen? Twenty? It shouldn’t take us more than a year or two to poke around in every nook and cranny.” He patted a log. “Take a load off. We’ll make camp in the woods yonder and start looking again at first light.”
A shadow flicked across the opening. Evelyn recoiled, fearing the half-breed had found them. Instead, the log above Melissa sagged to the weight of someone sitting down.
“You’ve got to learn to relax,” Bittner chided. “In the whole time I’ve known you, I haven’t seen you laugh once.”
“What is there to laugh about?” Haro said. “That we are born, we live, and we die? That maggots will feast on our bodies and our bones will rot away?”
“God Almighty,” Bittner said. “No wonder you have such a sour disposition. Didn’t your ma or pa ever tell you life is meant for living?”
“My father was mutilated and scalped by Sioux when I had seen but four winters. My mother was out gathering firewood a winter later and was caught in a blizzard. They did not find her frozen body until the next spring.”
“Tarnation. You’re depressing as hell, you know that?” A match rasped, and the aroma of tobacco drifted down through the latticed limbs. “We all have sob stories to tell. The trick is not to dwell on them.”
“Life is life,” Haro said.
“And piss stinks. So what? Me, I don’t fret myself over things I can’t change. I make the best of what is thrown my way. It’s all any of us can do.”
Evelyn heard Bittner puff on his pipe. Smoky tendrils seeped into their hiding place and her nose began to tingle.
“I just hope this King fella delivers the gold like we want.” Bittner waxed talkative. “I’m taking my share and heading for parts unknown. I’ll shave and get me a fancy set of clothes so no one can recognize me and live in luxury for as long as the gold lasts.” More puffing ensued, then: “What do you aim to do with your share?”
“I want to buy a hat.”
“A hat? Killibrew says we’ll end up with five to ten thousand dollars apiece, and all you want is a stupid hat?”
“I saw it at Bent’s Fort. It is red with black ribbons, and has spiderwebs in front.”
“Spiderwebs? Are you talking about that one on the shelf behind the cracker barrel? The one with the feather?”
“That is the one,” Haro confirmed.
Bittner roared with laughter. “That’s a woman’s hat! Those spiderwebs, as you call ’em, is what we call lace.”
“No one in my tribe has a hat like that. When I go back, my people will look on me with respect.”
“They'll look on you as a mule’s butt,” Bittner said. “If you really want to impress them, buy a new horse and saddle. And a bunch of trinkets for the ladies.”
“I have no interest in finding a wife.”
“Who said anything about getting hitched? You can milk a cow without buying it. With all the gold you’re going to have, the females won’t care what color your skin is.”
More acrid smoke drifted into the cavity. Evelyn pinched her nose to suppress a cough and saw Melissa imitate her.
“Yes, sir,” Bittner crowed. “We’ll be rolling in nuggets. That is, if we can count on Killibrew to divide it up as he promised.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“With that much gold at stake, you have to ask? He never has been much on sharing. I wouldn’t put it past him to double-cross us and keep it all for himself.”
“He could only do that if he killed us.”
“You catch on quick,” Bittner said.
Haro shifted, his right foot sliding along a branch only a couple of feet above Melissa. “Of all of us, you know him best. You have ridden with him for five winters. Yet you do not trust him?”
“No further than I can fling Long’s Peak, no,” Bittner said. “We’re pards, true, but that wouldn’t stop him from putting a slug in my back when I wasn’t looking if it got him my share of the nuggets.”
“I will not turn my back on him, then.”
Melissa had both hands over her beet-red face and was rocking up and down in distress. Evelyn slid toward her but stopped when another shadow rippled across the gap. Afraid one of the men had spotted the opening, she glanced up.
“You’ll have to do more than that,” Bittner confided. “Don’t drink or eat anything he gives you.”
“Why not?”
The log above Melissa bent lower still.
“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but Killibrew got his hands on some poison when we were in New Orleans last year. The kind they use to kill those big rats down on the docks.” Bittner lowered his voice confidentially. “He might try to do us in by mixing some in with our food or water.”
“Why do you tell me this?” Haro asked suspiciously. “You hardly know me.”
“I need someone to watch my back, and I can’t trust the kid to do it. He’s too green, too wet behind the ears. You, though, hardly ever sleep, and you’re cautious as can be. So how about if you watch my back and I watch yours? We might get through this alive.”
For some reason the smoke was growing worse by the second. Evelyn’s eyes were stinging, and she couldn’t take a breath, even a shallow one, without inhaling the stuff and wanting to cough. Squinting to keep it out of her eyes, she spied a small black object jutting between the limbs above Melissa. It was the bowl of Bittner’s pipe. He had lowered it when he bent toward Haro.
Melissa doubled over, tears streaming down her chipmunk cheeks, her thumbs pinching her nose. Her chest was heaving, but she courageously held herself perfectly still and didn’t make a sound.
Evelyn crept toward her, wrapped an arm around Melissa’s shoulders, and began to slide her toward the other side where the smoke wasn’t quite as heavy. They had to pass under the pipe, and as they did a tiny burning ember slid over the lip and fell onto her neck.
Automatically, Evelyn threw back her head to cry out. By sheer force of will she smothered the pain and the yelp died in her throat. They slid a few more inches, their feet noiseless on the smooth bole. A puff of fresh air through the opening dispelled some of the smoke, and Evelyn breathed a little easier. She smiled at Melissa, who had straightened.
“How do I know this is not a trick?” Haro asked.
“What would be the purpose?” Bittner rejoined. “If you tell Killibrew what I’ve told you, he’ll blow my brains out. I’m taking a chance confiding in you, and I hope to hell you take me serious.”
“I will think on your words.”
“Don’t think too long. I have a feeling we’ll catch these brats sooner than we expect.”
Evelyn felt a convulsive ripple flow through Melissa. Too late, she saw that Melissa’s mouth was wide open. The next instant the younger girl let out with a horrendous sneeze.
Nine
Ezriah Hampton wasn’t the world’s best tracker. He couldn’t tell individual tracks, one from the other, unless it was glaringly obvious. He couldn’t tell how old tracks were except as a general guess. He couldn’t tell the speed at which the maker of the tracks was going, or determine the weight or sex. So it was fortunate for him that the four horses he was tracking left enough sign even he could shadow them for miles on end without losing the trail.
For most of the day that trail led due north. Only once did Ezriah stop, at a stream at midday. The kidnappers had done likewise, and Ezriah scoured the soft earth for footprints. He located the tracks of two men, but none made by the girls. It puzzled him. Surely Killibrew had let them climb down to drink? He spent more time than he should going over the area a second and even a third time, but the result was always the same.
Confused, Ezriah climbed onto the sorrel and rode on. He wondered if Killibrew had already disposed of Evelyn and Melissa and buried them along the way. Yet if that were the case, he’d have spotted the graves. Mounds of upturned earth would stick out like proverbial sore thumbs. Or could it be that Killibrew had rolled the bodies down the mountain and left them for scavengers to dispose of?
The thought filled Ezriah with apprehension.
After leaving the stream, Killibrew had traveled in a northwesterly direction and availed himself of heavy cover where it was available, a precaution against being spotted by hostiles, Ezriah figured.
Ezriah assumed the cutthroats would continue on until sunset, so he was quite surprised when, along about four in the afternoon, he crossed a rise and saw smoke from a campfire rising ahead. Sliding from the saddle, he looped the chestnut’s reins around a sapling and glided forward through heavy timber until he heard voices.
In a clearing beside a narrow creek Killibrew had called a halt. The four horses were tethered in a string, and the youngest kidnapper, Kyle, was gathering more wood for the fire Killibrew was tending. Ezriah didn’t see Bittner or the ’breed. Nor, to his chagrin, did he see the girls.
“God, no,” Ezriah breathed, fearing the worst had come to pass. He started to lift his rifle, then decided to listen to what the two men were saying before he did anything. Easing onto his belly, he snaked from bush to bush until he was near enough to eavesdrop.
Killibrew was squatting and gazing westward, tapping a hand on the rifle across his thighs as if he were mad. When Kyle deposited another armload of firewood, Killibrew brusquely snapped, “Damn them all to hell! They should have been here by now.”
“Maybe it’s taking longer than you reckoned,” the younger man said.
“To catch a couple of brats?” Killibrew snorted. “They’re grown men. Haro is one of the best trackers alive. How damn long could it take?”
“Maybe they’re having trouble finding Buzzard Creek, then,” Kyle suggested.
Killibrew jerked a thumb at the gently gurgling waterway, half the width of the previous stream and only six inches deep at most. “We found it, didn’t we? And Haro knows this country a hell of a lot better than we do.” He shifted, facing west. “No, something must be wrong. It could be they ran into hostiles. At Bent’s Fort we were told a war party attacked a wagon train bound for the Oregon country about a month ago, not all that far north of here.”
Kyle nervously fingered one of the flintlocks at his waist. “So the war party could still be in the area?”
“Relax, boy. No use in givin’ yourself an ulcer. When a man’s time comes, it comes, and there ain’t a damn thing he can do to change it.”
Ezriah digested the information. Amazingly, it sounded to him as if Evelyn and Melissa had escaped, and the ’breed and Bittner had been sent to bring them back. Good for you, girls! he thought with a grin. They had sand to spare. “What if they never show up?” Kyle asked.
“Then you and me will go on to the Missouri and wait for Nate King to show,” Killibrew answered. “There will be that much more gold for us to split.”
“But we don’t have his daughters.”
“He won’t know that, will he? We’ll tell him they’re off somewhere safe, and he can’t see them until we’re sure he’s brought the gold. We’ll offer him some coffee, and that will be that. He’ll be dead and we’ll be rich.”
“One of us is going to shoot him in the back when his back is turned?” Kyle said, his tone implying that he didn’t approve.
“It’s a hell of a lot safer to shoot someone in the back than in the front,’’ Killibrew responded. “Leave the killin’ to me. I’m not as squeamish as you. King will be dead before he knows it, and we won’t need to lift a finger.”
Ezriah debated what his next step should be. He had a powerful hankering to core Killibrew’s noggin with a slug. The boy’s, too, if it came to that. But if Bittner and the ’breed showed up with the girls and hailed the camp, as was customary, and didn’t receive an answer, they might skedaddle and take Evelyn and Melissa with them. Or shoot the girls, then light a shuck.
Ezriah decided not to kill the pair just yet. He had time to spare. He hadn’t seen any sign of the Kings on his back trail all day, so he must be a couple of hours ahead of them. They wouldn’t arrive until after dark. Folding his arms, he rested his chin on a wrist and settled down to wait.
Nate King and Winona reached the shelf on the far side of the pass shortly after sunrise, and Nate climbed down to read sign. The tracks of the chestnut Hampton had appropriated, imposed over those of the kidnappers, showed where the old-timer had gone off after Killibrew and Kyle.
Of much more interest to Nate were Evelyn’s and Melissa’s prints. He tracked them into the trees below, Winona following and leading the bay and the mare. “They got away!” he announced, his fatherly pride at his daughter’s bold audacity tempered by his woodsman’s knowledge of the potential perils they faced.
“That is my daughter,” Winona said with a smile.
Another set of footprints paralleled those of the girls. “The half-breed and the big one went after them on foot,” Nate informed her.
“Haro and Bittner, Ezriah called them.” Winona hunkered to examine the prints herself. “We have a good chance of catching up to them before sunset, husband.”
That they did. As Nate accepted the bay’s reins and turned to the saddle, a thought struck him. “Ezriah doesn’t realize the girls escaped. That’s why he went on after Killibrew and the other one.”
“He can use the exercise,” Winona said, uncurling. “He’s the laziest man I have ever met. All he does is lounge around our cabin, eating our pantry bare.”
“He’s putting himself in danger for no reason.”
“That is not our concern.” Winona climbed onto her mare. “We did not ask him to go after them. He did it on his own.”
“To help us out,” Nate said. “To make up for letting them be taken in the first place.” He respected Ezriah for that, and felt a sense of obligation to keep the old man from getting himself killed.
“You are only guessing at his motive,” Winona said curtly. She hiked her reins. “Why are you standing there? Our daughter needs us.”
Nate forked leather but didn’t ride off. “One of us should go after Ezriah.”
Winona’s astonishment, under different circumstances, would have been comical. “Our daughter is in danger and you worry about him?” she bristled. “Go help him if you want, but I am not resting until Blue Flower is safe in my arms.”
“I’m the one who should go after the girls,” Nate said. “I’m a better tracker.” It was the sensible thing to do.
“You want me to follow Ezriah?” Winona looked at him, and looked at him, and finally said, “Do you listen when I speak? Or are you one of those husbands who shuts his ears whenever his wife opens her mouth? I do not like Hampton. He is arrogant and obnoxious. He looks down his nose at me because I am a woman, and in his eyes women are lesser than men. He mocks and teases me without cease. To be honest, husband, I do not care whether he lives or dies.”
“You’ll do it, then?” Nate said.
Winona was a full minute answering. “When this is over, you and I will sit down and have a long talk.”
Kneeing the bay alongside the mare, Nate leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“In your eyes. In mine, I hate you at this moment, and I have never hated you before, no matter how mad you made me.” Winona transferred her Hawken to her left hand and reined the mare northward. “When you find my bleached bones a moon from now, remember whose idea this was.”
“I’ll rejoin you as soon as I can,” Nate promised, and without glancing back he trotted down the next slope and on into a belt of spruce. In order to locate Evelyn as quickly as possible, he had to take shortcuts where possible. The footprints were bearing to the northwest, which told him his daughter was making for his son’s cabin. Rather than parallel them all the way down, as Haro and Bittner had done, he rode as fast as the terrain allowed until he came to the bottom near where he believed Evelyn and Melissa had come out and scoured the ground for more sign. Within minutes he found their tracks and soon reached a stream.
The huge prints of a grizzly gave Nate pause. Hopping down, he made sure that neither of the girls had been harmed. When he saw where Evelyn had stared the bear down, just as he had taught her, her courage brought a tightness to his chest and moisture to his eyes.
Fording the stream, Nate took up the chase anew. On horseback he could travel three times as fast as a man on foot, and he had high hopes of being reunited with Evelyn long before sundown. Then he reached the spot where the girls had removed their shoes.
Drawing rein, Nate mulled his options. From horseback their prints were now impossible to read. Those of Bittner and Haro, however, were still as plain as ever. He could follow theirs instead, but if they lost the trail, he’d need to backtrack, delaying him who knew how long. His best bet was to continue to the northwest at a gallop and look for sign only when he had to.
A flick of the reins and Nate was off. Time slipped by. The vegetation thinned. On his right a bluff appeared. He was about to ride past when he played a hunch. Long ago he had taught Evelyn to use the terrain to her advantage, and instructed her that when it came to evading an enemy, whether human or otherwise, gaining high ground was the smart thing to do.
