Wilderness Double Edition 23, page 22
“You big baby.” Nate dipped the Crow’s hand in the spring, pulled it out, and easily slid the thimble off.
“Thank you! Me worried not come off.”
“Too bad it can’t fit over your mouth.”
“Sorry?”
“Just get this over with.”
But Chases Rabbits had to examine every one of the needles. The bone needles were not of much interest since they were similar to those his own people used, but the metal needles fascinated him no end. He tested each one by jabbing himself in the palm. “Mother like these plenty.”
“Let’s get this over with sometime this year.”
“Year?” Chases Rabbits said, and tittered. “You very funny, Grizzly Killer. Me tell you that yet?”
“Twice now,” Nate said, and was puzzled when a shadow fell across them. He thought that maybe a stray cloud was blocking out the sun, and glanced skyward. But it wasn’t a cloud. It was a boulder. Plummeting right down on top of them.
Seven
There are some sights so unexpectedly shocking that they freeze the beholder in bewilderment. Nate King was stunned by the sight of the boulder falling from atop the bluff. For a precious second he was frozen in place. Then he bellowed, “Look out!” and threw himself to one side, looping an arm around Chases Rabbits as he leaped and bearing the young Crow with him.
The crash of the impact was as loud as a thunderclap. Nate lay on his belly, the sound ringing in his ears, as a thick cloud of dust enveloped him. Without thinking, he inhaled and broke into a fit of coughing. Twisting, he saw that the boulder had missed them by less than two feet.
Chases Rabbits inhaled even more of the dust and was hacking and blinking. He shouted something in the Crow tongue and pointed upward.
One look turned the ice in Nate’s veins into fire. Silhouetted against the sky at the very edge of the bluff was a naked figure with a long, thick tree branch in his hand. One end of the branch was wedged under a large boulder that Black Beak, his face flushed and his chest heaving, was straining mightily to dislodge and send hurtling down on top of them. He was looking down at them, his hatred evident even at that distance, a budding smirk of triumph on his face.
The boulder had begun to move.
Nate glanced around for his Hawken. He had neglected to grab it when he leaped. Shifting, he beheld its shattered stock jutting from under the first boulder. His rifle had been crushed.
In the wilderness, a white man without a rifle was a man living on borrowed time. It was an indispensable tool, even more essential than a pistol or a knife in that a rifle lent the advantage of range and penetration, advantages crucial in a clash with a grizzly or a band of hostiles.
Or when a revenge-crazed warrior was trying to push a massive boulder down on one’s head.
Nate streaked his hands to his waist. He drew both flintlocks simultaneously, cocking them as he elevated his arms. Black Beak saw him draw them but did not let go of the branch and dive for cover. The Ute sneered, as if daring Nate to try and shoot him.
Nate obliged. At the crack, his right flintlock belched smoke and lead. Up on the rim, Black Beak reacted as if he had been punched in the ribs. But he still did not release the branch. Bent half over, blood trickling from a corner of his mouth, he put all he had into tumbling the boulder from its roost. Another few moments and it would hurtle over the edge.
Nate took aim. Holding the heavy pistol steady, he sucked in a breath, then smoothly stroked the trigger.
Black Beak’s face dissolved and the top of his head exploded in a shower of hair, bone, and flesh. He staggered, his hands opening spasmodically, and the branch he had been using as a crutch slipped from his grasp. His arms started to rise, but all brain function had ceased and they fell limp even as he did the same. His body took a final step, and over the brink he came, the limb he had been using falling with him.
Heaving erect, Nate shouted, “Move!” and jumped out of the way.
Yelping, Chases Rabbits scrambled on all fours like an oversized crab, slipping twice before he gained speed.
The thud of the body was nowhere near as loud as the crash of the boulder, and was punctuated by the clatter of the branch.
Nate slowly uncurled and turned. He expected it to be grisly, and it was. His stomach churned, but only briefly.
Black Beak had hit face first. His head had split like an overripe melon and his brains had burst out. What little was left of his features was barely recognizable as human. One of his eyeballs had popped from its socket and lay at arm’s length from the body. His neck was a blood-smeared stump. A broken shoulder bone had ruptured through his skin, the bone gleaming white in the sunshine.
Chases Rabbits breathed a few words in Crow, then switched to English. “Him very dead.”
“Good riddance,” Nate said. The young Ute should have left while he had the chance instead of sneaking back and scaling the bluff. There had to be a trail to the top somewhere, probably to the south, where a gradual slope led to the summit.
“Him want me dead too,” Chases Rabbits said, visibly shaken. “Never trust Utes. Them bad medicine.”
The Utes generally felt the same about the Crows, Nate recalled, but he did not remind Chases Rabbits. “He’s no great loss. But that rifle is.”
“What you do now? Need long gun, yes?”
“Yes,” Nate said. Could he get by without one? Moving well back from the blood and gore, he went to sit so he could reload his pistols. A whinny brought him up short.
Their horses were racing away through the trees. The smell of fresh blood had been too much for nerves frayed by the crash of the boulder, and even Nate’s usually dependable bay was running off. “Damn!” he fumed, and took off after them. He had gone only a few yards when Chases Rabbits appeared at his elbow.
“Stupid horses. Important we catch.”
“Very important,” Nate huffed. Losing the rifle was bad enough. Losing the horses would be a calamity. He would have no recourse but to turn back, and it would take five times as long to reach his cabin on foot as it would on horseback. Days and nights of being at the mercy of the elements and anyone and anything inclined to do him harm.
The horses disappeared in the distance, but Nate did not slow or stop. Their panic would fade and they would halt after a while to graze. They would be tired and easy to catch.
“Me want thank you, Grizzly Killer,” Chases Rabbits said. “You save me.”
“You did the same for me earlier,” Nate responded.
They ran in silence awhile, then Chases Rabbits asked, “Why all whites not like you?”
“No two people are ever the same,” Nate said absently. He was trying to spot the horses.
“You not like other whites. You nice.”
Nate was flattered by the compliment, but said, “There are a lot of nice whites. Just as there are a lot of nice Crows and nice Utes.”
“Utes too?” Chases Rabbits was skeptical. “Next you say there be nice Apaches.” He laughed at his little joke.
“People are people,” Nate remarked. It didn’t matter if they were red or white, there were good ones and bad ones. There were those who were kindly and those who were not. Those who offered their hand in friendship to one and all and those who would gladly stab one and all in the back.
“My people special,” Chases Rabbits said. “Your people special you?”
Nate had never been one of those who thought his kind had a monopoly on the best aspects of human nature. Nor did he subscribe to the belief that other races were inferior simply because they were different. “There is special, and there is special,” he replied.
“Me not savvy.”
“Remind me some other time and I’ll explain,” Nate offered. He needed all his breath for running.
“Grizzly Killer?” Chases Rabbits said.
Nate looked at him.
“Me like you, Grizzly Killer. You good man. Me sorry about before. Sorry try kill you.” The boy’s sincerity was evident.
“We all make mistakes.” Nate knew whereof he spoke. He had made more than his share.
They were making a lot of noise since Nate was not trying to move stealthily. The important thing was to find the horses, and find them quickly. He did not think much of it when a rabbit bolted out of a thicket and bounded off in high, frantic leaps. Nor did he use more caution when several sparrows shot up into the air, chirping in alarm. He assumed Chases Rabbits and he were to blame. Then he rounded a trunk, and there, not ten feet away, was a black bear.
Nate stopped so abruptly, he nearly tripped over his own feet. The bear was tearing apart an old log to get at grubs. It must have heard them, yet it had not run off. Now it raised its head and growled an ominous warning, annoyed by the intrusion.
Nate imitated a tree. He wanted to kick himself for going after the horses before reloading his pistols. The irony of his comment about making mistakes was not lost on him. He had just made several in unthinking succession, and all he had now to defend himself with were his Bowie and his tomahawk.
Chases Rabbits had also stopped and was trembling like an aspen leaf in a strong wind. “Big bear!” he whispered. “We run?”
“No,” Nate whispered. It had been his experience that running sometimes triggered an attack. Something about a fleeing figure caused meat-eaters to charge even when they were not inclined to do so. The black bear was staring and sniffing. Nate prayed it wouldn’t decide to dine on something considerably bigger than those grubs.
The bear was on the other side of the log. Now it raised a foreleg to step over, then stopped, another growl rumbling deep in its barrel chest.
“We run?” Chases Rabbits anxiously repeated. The whites of his eyes were showing and he was poised to bolt.
“No,” Nate whispered. They had three other choices. They could back off slowly. They could stand there and wait for the bear to make up its ursine mind. Or they could do what Nate did next, which was to advance toward the bear while raising his arms overhead and hollering, “Ho! Bear! Go away! Leave us be!”
Chases Rabbits squeaked like a mouse. “You crazy, Grizzly Killer!”
There was a method to Nate’s seeming insanity.
Experience had also taught him that most animals would back down when a man came at them making a lot of noise. The big predators, in particular, became confused when potential prey did not act like prey should. Add to that the fact that most animals were naturally wary of man. Humankind was unlike any other creatures in the wild, and the wild things knew that, and shunned humans accordingly. Maybe it was an ages-old instinct that told them humans were dangerous. Or maybe it was the strangeness humans radiated. Whatever the case, Nate was counting on his loud display to accomplish what his expended pistols could not.
The black bear growled louder than ever but did not charge.
“Go, you mangy brute!” Nate bawled. “Get out of here! Go find a she-bear to frolic with!” For all he knew, it was a she-bear. He was just saying whatever popped into his head.
Suddenly, Chases Rabbits raised his arms and began hopping up and down. “Go, stupid bear! Go play with snakes!”
Nate wondered what in the world snakes had to do with anything. “Go!” he roared, and took a gamble. Shrieking at the top of his lungs, he rushed forward.
The bear didn’t move. For harrowing moments the outcome hung in a feral balance, then the black bear grunted and swung around and briskly lumbered off into the woods.
Chases Rabbits yipped for joy. “We scare him, Grizzly Killer!”
“Don’t count on it,” Nate said. Bears were known to circle back now and then. He kept on yelling for more than a minute, until he was satisfied it was truly gone.
“You like shout?” the young Crow asked.
Nate sat on what was left of the log and commenced reloading. The pistols would not stop a grizzly, but they might cripple or kill a black bear if he put a slug in the right place.
Chases Rabbits slapped his leg. “Wait me tell friends! Run off bear! Plenty brave, eh?”
“Plenty lucky,” Nate said as he opened his powder horn. In the end, things always boiled down to luck in a clash between a man and a living engine of destruction like a bear.
“Me chase baby bear once,” Chases Rabbits mentioned. “Make mother bear angry, so me run.” Nate asked something that had been on his mind for some time. “Tell me. How did you ever get a name like Chases Rabbits?”
“When me little, rabbit come in village. Me see. Me try catch.”
“But you’re old enough now that you can choose a new name if you want, can’t you?”
“Me like Chases Rabbits. Makes people think me fast.”
“It takes all kinds,” Nate said under his breath. He was still watching the vegetation, but the black bear had not reappeared.
Out of the blue, Chases Rabbits said, “Your daughter pretty.”
“That she is,” Nate agreed. Evelyn took after her mother in that regard. “She’ll grow into a beautiful woman one day.”
“She have man?”
About to reach into his ammo pouch, Nate glanced up. “Don’t even think it. She’s much too young.”
“Sisters older when warriors take them,” Chases Rabbits said.
Among some tribes it was the custom for girls to marry quite young. By the age of fourteen, in some instances. “My daughter won’t be ready to marry for five or six winters yet,” Nate said.
The young Crow snorted. “She be old woman.”
“Maybe so, but my people don’t rush into wedlock. A girl can do it any age she pleases.” Preferably, Nate thought, when she was a woman.
“Maybe me court her,” Chases Rabbits said.
“Maybe me shoot you,” Nate mimicked him.
“You mean that?”
“I’ll hang a sign out when she is old enough and announce it to the whole world,” Nate said.
“Sign?”
Nate did not explain. “There’s nothing wrong with marrying young, I suppose. My people used to do it a lot more regularly than we do it these days. In some places, parents arranged marriages before their children were even born. But that’s not how we do things now. We don’t force women to marry whether they want to or not. They have the freedom to choose who and when.”
Chases Rabbits brightened. “So Grizzly Killer’s daughter marry when want?”
“Sure,” Nate said. “So long as I don’t have any objections.” It was not a subject he cared to discuss further, so he asked, “Isn’t there a Crow girl you’re fond of?”
“Many,” Chases Rabbits said. “One called Morning Mist like most. We play when little. She grow be pretty woman.”
“Girls have a habit of doing that.” Nate finished reloading the first flintlock and started in on the second.
“You love Shoshone woman?”
“What a dumb question,” Nate scoffed. “Of course I love her, as I’ve never loved anyone. She is all I could ever want in a wife, and much more. She has stood by me through good times and bad, and never let me down.”
“Me want woman like that,” Chases Rabbits said. “Daughters like mothers, eh?”
It took a moment for what the younger man was suggesting to sink in. “You would be better off with a Crow woman,” Nate said. “Mixed marriages don’t always work out.” He was just saying that. Fact was, a lot of trappers had taken Indian wives and been happy ever after.
Chases Rabbits was young, but he wasn’t gullible. “Yours work out,” he noted.
The pistols were loaded. Nate stood, wedged them under his wide leather belt, and cast about for sign of their horses. He found where the fleeing animals had nearly blundered onto the bear and swerved to the north to avoid it. Breaking into a dogtrot, he wound through the dense timber.
The young Crow paced him.
“So we’re friends now, are we?” Nate asked.
“If you want be, yes.”
“Then, when we find the horses, you’re free to return to your people.” Nate saw no purpose to continuing to treat the boy as an enemy. He didn’t consider him a threat to his family anymore.
“You want me go?” Chases Rabbits sounded disappointed.
“I should think you would be happy,” Nate said. “You’re welcome to the horse, too.” It had belonged to a Ute.
“Me thank you.”
They ran in silence, but not for long.
“Grizzly Killer, why you want me go? You no like?”
“I like you just fine,” Nate said. Which was true to a point. The youth had a knack for grating on his nerves.
“Me want go with you,” Chases Rabbits said. “Me want be friend.”
Nate chuckled. “One day you try to kill me, the next you want to be my pard? I appreciate the change of heart. I truly do. But it’s best we go our separate ways.”
“Why?”
Nate glanced at him. The young warrior asked the most aggravating questions. “Because I have things to do and I can do them better alone.”
“The quest you tell about?”
“Yes,” Nate said, hoping that would end it. He should have known better.
“Me help on quest.”
“That’s kind of you, but it’s personal.” Nate did not want the Crow to learn where he might relocate.
“What means ‘personal’?” Chases Rabbits inquired.
Nate sighed. “When something is personal, it’s your business and no one else’s. Private things. Things you don’t want anyone else to know.”
“What kind things?”
Fortunately for Nate, at that instant he spied the horses up ahead in a clearing. “Look yonder!” He hastened to reclaim them before they ran off. Covered with sweat, they were chomping grass.
The bay didn’t shy when Nate took the reins. Mounting, he checked his remaining parfleche. It was intact, the contents undisturbed. The other parfleche, like his rifle, had fallen victim to the boulder. He took hold of the reins to the horse Black Beak had been riding, then jerked his thumb at the third animal. “It’s all yours, Chases Rabbits, with my blessings.”
The young Crow reluctantly walked over. “Me go with you while yet? How that be?”
