Wilderness Double Edition 30, page 27
The Outcast slid behind the trunk. He was too easy a target. Dropping lightly to the ground, he dashed to another spruce. No sooner did he reach it than an arrow clipped his shoulder. The tip cut his buckskin shirt but not his own skin.
Crouching, the Outcast kept running. He raced out of the spruce and crouched in some brush, unscathed and wondering why. He had expected more arrows to fly. That none did suggested the warrior had used all the shafts in his quiver or had only a few left and wouldn’t use another unless he was sure he wouldn’t miss.
Staying low, the Outcast stalked toward the spot where he had last seen his enemy. Movement alerted him that the warrior was doing the same. He sank onto his stomach, the club at his side.
A cluster of dogwood moved.
But there was still no wind.
The Outcast gripped the hardwood handle with both hands. He coiled his legs, and when a dark form materialized low to the earth, he sprang. He vaulted high into the air with the club overhead. His adversary sensed him and looked up.
The club fell in an arc.
The warrior brought up his bow. Wood clacked on wood. The Outcast dodged a kick aimed at his knee. He avoided a thrust of the bow aimed at his eyes.
Snarling, the warrior heaved to his knees and grabbed for a long knife at his hip. The blade flashed, down low.
The Outcast sidestepped. He feinted to the left and stepped to the right and swung with all his might. Glinting in the sunlight, the metal spike buried itself in the warrior’s eye. The spike was long enough and thick enough that it shattered the socket and penetrated to the brain.
The warrior pinwheeled his arms and kicked like a stricken frog, and went limp.
The Outcast wrenched the spike out. Gore and blood dripped from the metal. He shook it, then faced up the mountain.
There was more yet to do.
The Beginning
NIGHT WAS ABOUT to fall.
Skin Shredder did not want to stop. His intent was to make it over the pass. But at a spring just above the tree line he called for a halt. Splashes Blood got a fire going while Eye Gouger and Red Moon went into the woods to gather enough firewood to last them the night. It was chill this high up once the sun went down, even in the summer. Head Splitter watched the horse and the captives.
His hands clasped behind his back, Skin Shredder paced. He didn’t look up when someone began pacing beside him.
“You are worried about Star Dancer?” Splashes Blood asked.
“He should have rejoined us.”
“I will take Red Moon and go look for him. If he has been slain we will avenge him.”
“It would please me better if you stayed.” Skin Shredder refused to risk losing more warriors. Two was bad enough; two was a calamity. His people would say he was bad medicine and shun him.
“He is our friend.”
“One of the best we have,” Skin Shredder conceded. “If he has been killed, I will want vengeance, too. But we have the two captives and the horse to think of. It is important we get them to our village.”
Zach King saw their leader glare at him and wondered why. He had been dumped to the ground near the bay. His wrists and ankles were bound and his moccasins had been pulled off so if he ran, he would lacerate his feet to ribbons on the sharp rocks.
Lou stared at the dry blood on his thigh. “How are you holding up?”
“I keep telling you, I’m fine. They took the arrow out, didn’t they?” Zach wasn’t being completely honest. His leg hurt abominably, and he was burning with fever. The wound didn’t appear to be infected, but he needed to clean and bandage it.
“They yanked the arrow out,” Lou amended. It churned her stomach and made her queasy just thinking about it.
“Something is bothering them. The one who went down the mountain hasn’t come back.”
“Maybe it’s Shakespeare,” Lou said hopefully.
Skin Shredder walked over and kicked her. Be silent, he signed. No matter how many times he told them, they kept on talking when his back was turned.
Zach surged up off the ground in anger, but he made it only as far his knees when Skin Shredder knocked him back down.
“I’m all right,” Lou said. “Don’t get them mad.”
Skin Shredder turned to Head Splitter. “The next time either speaks, hit them with a rock.”
“Hit to kill or to hurt?”
“We do not cut hearts from dead captives.” Skin Shredder went to the fire. He was restless and irritable, and disliked being either. A warrior should have more self-control.
Splashes Blood held up a bundle of pemmican. “We found this in the breed’s parfleche.”
Skin Shredder took a piece. The others were already eating. “Give some to Head Splitter.”
Grunting, Splashes Blood started to stand, and stopped. “Why is he standing that way?”
Head Splitter was leaning against the horse. His head lolled and his legs were wobbling. Suddenly the bay nickered and took a step, and Head Splitter oozed to the grass and lay on his side. The firelight played over the arrow that had transfixed him from back to front.
The Tun-kua sprang to their feet and moved toward him.
Exactly as the Outcast wanted them to do. By then he was behind them, the club in his hands. He could have killed more with the bow, but there were only four now … and he had seen their leader kick the young woman. He swung, and the metal spike buried itself in the nearest warrior’s skull. The warrior stiffened but didn’t cry out, and in a heartbeat the Outcast had tugged the spike out and was behind the next. This one he caught on the side of the head. The spike went in the ear and the warrior bleated and died.
The other two whirled.
The Outcast tried to jerk the spike out, but it was lodged fast in the bone. Letting go of the handle, he drew his knife and his tomahawk.
The two warriors drew their blades. The leader barked something and both attacked at once.
His arms a blur, the Outcast slashed, countered, stabbed. They pressed him hard. They were skilled, these two, but so was he. Blade rang on blade and knife rang on tomahawk. The leader cut his arm. The other sliced his side but not deep. He swept the tomahawk around and up and the keen edge sank into the other’s throat, splitting the soft flesh and sending a scarlet spray every which way. That left the leader.
Skin Shredder saw Splashes Blood fall, and bounded back. He knew that alone he was no match for this warrior who had come out of nowhere and slain his friends with fierce ease, and as he saw no reason to needlessly throw his life away, he threw his knife, instead, at the warrior’s face.
The Outcast ducked. The knife flew over his head, and he straightened to find the leader fleeing up the mountain with the agility and speed of a mountain sheep. He started to give chase but caught himself. To rush into the dark after an enemy who might be waiting for him was foolish. There would be another day. He turned toward the young woman.
“No!” Zach struggled to get between them.
The Outcast walked over to her. He avoided an attempt by the breed to kick him. He looked into her eyes and she looked into his. He saw no fear, not until she glanced at her husband, who was trying to reach him to kick at him again. The Outcast lowered his knife and cut the rope around her wrist and then the rope around her ankles. He sheathed his knife and reached down.
“Don’t hurt her, damn you!” Zach shouted.
The Outcast thought she would recoil but she was unafraid. Pressing his hand to her stomach, he said softly, “Do you understand?”
Lou glanced down at herself. His words held no meaning but his gesture spoke volumes. She placed her hand over his and smiled.
The Outcast grew warm all over. His throat would not work. He coughed and stepped back. The breed had stopped trying to kick him and was staring at him in such astonishment, the Outcast laughed. “Take better care of her than I did of mine.”
“What was that? I don’t speak your tongue.”
The Outcast smiled at the woman. He collected his club and the bow and quiver of arrows. He climbed on the pinto and rode to the south. The valley was big. At the south end was a mountain that interested him. Perhaps he would stay there a while. Perhaps he would stop wandering.
“What in the world?” Zach blurted.
“I think we have a new friend.” Lou took a knife that had fallen to the grass, and freed him.
Zach was thinking of the one that got away. He dashed to the bay and took his pistol from the parfleche and made sure it was loaded. Then he swung up and extended his arm. “Climb on.”
“But all these dead men and their weapons and whatnot?”
“I’ll come back with Shakespeare. Right now I’m getting you home, where it’s safe.”
Louisa King tingled with happiness. “Home it is.”
Author’s Note
The accounts of the Tun-kua in the King journals have puzzled anthropologists and historians. Some say there was no such tribe. In Nate King’s defense, a few observations are in order.
First, it is uncontested that before the coming of the white man, North America was home to hundreds of tribes. Exactly how many went extinct is uncertain, but the number is great. Some died of disease. Some were wiped out in war. Some assimilated into other tribes.
Migrations were another factor. Tribes drifted to better hunting grounds or fled from hostile tribes or moved to get away from the whites or were moved by force by the whites.
It is interesting to note that at one time there lived along the Texas coast a tribe called the Tonka-hans. They were believed to be cannibals. No one knows what became of them. An account by an early Texas settler suggests they migrated “north.”
About the Author
David L. Robbins was born on Independence Day 1950. He has written more than three hundred books under his own name and many pen names, among them: David Thompson, Jake McMasters, Jon Sharpe, Don Pendleton, Franklin W. Dixon, Ralph Compton, Dean L. McElwain, J.D. Cameron and John Killdeer.
Robbins was raised in Pennsylvania. When he was seventeen he enlisted in the United States Air Force and eventually rose to the rank of sergeant. After his honorable discharge he attended college and went into broadcasting, working as an announcer and engineer (and later as a program director) at various radio stations. Later still he entered law enforcement and then took to writing full-time.
At one time or another Robbins has lived in Pennsylvania, Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Montana, Colorado and the Pacific Northwest. He spent a year and a half in Europe, traveling through France, Italy, Greece and Germany. He lived for more than a year in Turkey.
Today he is best known for two current long-running series - Wilderness, the generational saga of a Mountain Man and his Shoshone wife - and Endworld is a science fiction series under his own name started in 1986. Among his many other books, Piccadilly Publishing is pleased to be reissuing ebook editions of Wilderness, Davy Crockett and, of course, White Apache.
Books by David Robbins From Piccadilly Publishing
WILDERNESS DOUBLE EDITIONS
#1: KING OF THE MOUNTAIN / LURE OF THE WILD
#2: SAVAGE RENDEZVOUS / BLOOD FURY
#3: TOMAHAWK REVENGE / BLACK POWDER JUSTICE
#4: VENGEANCE TRAIL / DEATH HUNT
#5: MOUNTAIN DEVIL / BLACKFOOT MASSACRE
#6: NORTHWEST PASSAGE / APACHE BLOOD
#7: MOUNTAIN MANHUNT / TENDERFOOT
#8: WINTERKILL / BLOOD TRUCE
#9: TRAPPER’S BLOOD / MOUNTAIN CAT
#10: IRON WARRIOR / WOLF PACK
#11: BLACK POWDER / TRAIL’S END
#12: THE LOST VALLEY / MOUNTAIN MADNESS
#13: FRONTIER MAYHEM / BLOOD FEUD
#14: GOLD RAGE / THE QUEST
#15: MOUNTAIN NIGHTMARE / SAVAGES
#16: BLOOD KIN / THE WESTWARD TIDE
#17: FANG AND CLAW / TRACKDOWN
#18: FRONTIER FURY / THE TEMPEST
#19: PERILS OF THE WIND / MOUNTAIN MAN
#20: FIREWATER / SCAR
#21: BY DUTY BOUND / FLAMES OF JUSTICE
#22: VENGEANCE / SHADOW REALMS
#23: IN CRUEL CLUTCHES / UNTAMED COUNTRY
#24: REAP THE WHIRLWIND / LORD GRIZZLY
#25: WOLVERINE / PEOPLE OF THE FOREST
#26: COMANCHE MOON / GLACIER TERROR
#27: THE RISING STORM / PURE OF HEART
#28: INTO THE UNKNOW/ IN DARKEST DEPTHS
#29: FEAR WEAVER / CRY FREEDOM
#30: ONLY THE STRONG / THE OUTCAST
WILDERNESS GIANT EDITIONS
#1: HAWKEN FURY
#2: SEASON OF THE WARRIOR
#3: PRAIRIE BLOOD
#4: ORDEAL
#5: THE TRAIL WEST
ALSO WRITTEN BY DAVID L. ROBBINS
WHITE APACHE
#1: HANGMAN’S KNOT
#2: WARPATH
#3: WARRIOR BORN
#4: QUICK KILLER
#5: BLOOD BATH
#6: BLOOD TREACHERY
#7: BLOODY BOUNTY
#8: THE TRACKERS
#9: DESERT FURY
#10: HANGED!
DAVY CROCKETT
#1: HOMECOMING
#2: SIOUX SLAUGHTER
#3: BLOOD HUNT
#4: MISSISSIPPI MAYHEM
#5: BLOOD RAGE
#6: COMANCHE COUNTRY
#7: TEXICAN TERROR
#8: CANNIBAL COUNTRY
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David Robbins, Wilderness Double Edition 30
