Wilderness Double Edition 19, page 6
“What would that prove?”
“I didn’t think you would,” Kyle said smugly, and resumed slicing. “Nice try, though. You had me hoodwinked there for a second.”
Evelyn squared her shoulders and said in all earnestness, “May my mother be tortured and scalped by Blackfeet if what I’ve told you isn’t gospel.” The gospel part she added because she had heard a lot of her father’s friends use the expression, usually when they’d had too much to drink and someone accused them of exaggerating a tale.
Kyle froze a second time and said sternly, “Don’t play games with me, girl. I won’t stand for it.”
“My pa isn’t as rich as your friend makes him out to be, or we wouldn’t be living in a cabin in the mountains,” Evelyn persisted, fibbing her heart out. “We’d live in a mansion in St. Louis and I’d have all the pretty clothes I wanted.” Her father visited St. Louis every other year or so, and she always tagged along. It was a whole new world, a world she reveled in. Her favorite pastime was to shop until her legs were fit to fall off. At night they sometimes attended the theater, and she couldn’t get enough of the wonderful costumes and the marvelous music. To her, the glories of refined society had the dire dangers of the wilderness beat all hollow.
Kyle chopped at the pemmican as if trying to kill it. “I refuse to believe you. Do you hear me? Go away and don’t bother me.”
Out of the night strode Bittner, his arms laden with dead branches. “What’s the matter, boy? Are these brats giving you a hard time?”
“No,” Kyle said, but he didn’t sound convincing. “And don’t call me ‘boy.’ I’m not your son or anyone else’s.”
“Touchy whelp, aren’t you?” Bittner said, not the least bit intimidated. Dumping the firewood at Kyle’s feet, he said gruffly, “Get the fire started. I have me a hankering for some of that hot chocolate we never got to drink.”
“Start the fire yourself, you lummox,” Kyle said testily. Evelyn leaped back, pulling Melissa after her, as the big man seized Kyle by the front of his shirt and jerked him erect. The next instant Kyle’s knife flashed dully, and he pressed the razor tip against Bittner’s hairy jugular.
“Stop that, you jackasses!” Out of the night rushed Killibrew. Shouldering between them, he shoved the two men apart. “What the hell has gotten into you lunkheads? We’re in this together, remember? It won’t work if we turn on each other like rabid wolves.”
“This ox started it!” Kyle spat through clenched teeth. Bittner balled fists as round as wagon-wheel hubs. “Call me that again and you’ll eat your teeth.”
Furious, Killibrew gave each another shove. “Listen to yourselves! You sound like a couple of brats who can’t—” Blinking a few times, he fixed Evelyn and Melissa with a quizzical expression. “Why do I have the feelin’ you two are responsible for this? What did you do?”
“It wasn’t them,” Kyle came to their defense. “Bittner just likes to throw his weight around.”
“Enough!” Killibrew shook his fist under the younger man’s nose. “I made it plain at the beginnin’. No fightin’. Ever. Too much is at stake. Now, get back to work!”
Bittner shrugged and ambled off for more firewood. “Whatever you say. You’re the boss.”
Simmering like a steam kettle, Kyle slowly knelt. He stabbed at the pemmican instead of cutting it, a storm cloud roiling on his forehead.
Killibrew held his rifle horizontal at his waist and advanced on Evelyn and Melissa, pushing them out of earshot of the others. He wasn’t rough, but he wasn’t gentle, either. Squatting, he coolly palmed his dagger and held the double-edged blade to Melissa’s neck. He did it so fast, she couldn’t dodge or run.
“Don’t hurt her!” Evelyn pleaded.
Melissa whined like a puppy, the whites of her eyes bright in the gloom.
“Whether your sister suffers depends on whether you cause me more trouble,” Killibrew said harshly. “I saw you talkin’ to Kyle. I don’t know what you said, but I won’t stand for any more shenanigans. Am I clear?”
“We understand,” Evelyn said.
“I hope so, brat, for your sakes.” Killibrew shoved the dagger into its sheath and rose. “Next time I’ll cut her. I need you alive, but I don’t need you in one piece.” Pivoting, he departed, humming to himself.
Evelyn embraced Melissa, who had started to cry, and patted her back. “You’re safe now. He’s gone.”
“We’ll never be safe,” Melissa whimpered, and dug her fingers into Evelyn’s shoulders. “I take back what I said. We have to escape, no matter what.”
Five
Evelyn King’s eyelids felt as heavy as the lumps of lead her pa melted down to make bullets. She was trying to stay awake, but it became harder with every passing minute. Again and again her eyes drooped shut and she felt herself drifting to sleep. Again and again, marshaling her energy, she snapped them open again. She couldn’t hold out much longer, though. A pleasant sluggish feeling was creeping through her body, fatigue so potent it dulled her will to resist.
Based on the position of the Big Dipper, Evelyn calculated it was somewhere between two and three in the morning. Killibrew, Kyle, and Haro were asleep. Bittner was keeping watch. He had relieved Killibrew an hour ago and was now hunched over, cross-legged, near the fire. He had gulped down a cup of coffee, but it didn’t have much effect. His elbows were propped on his knees and his bearded chin was propped in his hands, and every now and then he slumped toward the ground, only to straighten with a start when he realized he was dozing off.
Evelyn considered bashing him over the head with a rock but was afraid she wasn’t strong enough to knock him out. Besides which, the noise might awaken the others. Mired in shadow, she peered out from under the blanket they had given her, praying Bittner would fall asleep before she did. Soon her eyelids drooped for the umpteenth time, and it took every ounce of willpower she had to open them again.
It was important they escape before dawn, not the next night or the one after. Her brother’s cabin wasn’t all that far. Another day or two of travel would double and triple the distance they had to cover, and double and triple the likelihood of running into hostiles or a hungry predator.
Evelyn thought of Zach and his wife, Louisa, and how much fun she’d had on her last visit. Zach had changed a lot since he got hitched. He didn’t tease and torment her as he had when they were younger. He didn’t call her names or tug on her hair or make those grunting sounds that used to annoy her to no end. Marriage had matured him, turned him into a whole new person.
Much to her surprise, Evelyn sort of missed the old Zach at times. She’d mentioned how different he was to her father one day, and her pa had bestowed a kindly smile and said, “It happens to everyone sooner or later. We can’t stay children forever, as much as some of us would like to.”
“When I was little I never wanted to grow up,” Evelyn had confided. “I wanted ma and you to look out for me always.”
Her father had chuckled. “That’s normal. It takes courage to grow up, to stand on our own two feet. In the big cities back east, people can put it off a lot longer than they can out here on the frontier.”
“How do you mean, Pa?”
Her father had encompassed their valley with a sweep of his arm. “Out here life is a lot harder. If we don’t hunt, we starve. If we don’t learn how to find water, we die of thirst. If we don’t know how to start a fire without a flint and steel, we can freeze to death in the dead of winter. And we never know from one day to the next when someone or something will try to kill us. Either we learn to deal with life on its own terms, or life buries us. We have to deal with the reality of it all at a lot younger age than city folks.”
“But they have to eat and drink and wear clothes, too,” Evelyn had pointed out.
“It’s not the same. In most big cities and towns a person can walk into a restaurant or a tavern at practically any hour of the day or night and get a bite to eat. The same when they’re thirsty. When they need new clothes, they can walk into a store and buy it right off the rack. And they don’t have to worry about hostiles or wild beasts.”
“That makes them less mature?”
“In a sense, yes. Civilization shelters them. It provides the food they eat and the water they drink and the clothes on their backs. They have no need to learn to fend for themselves. So they never learn to face life as it is. And they never become fully mature.”
“I still don’t quite understand,” Evelyn had admitted.
“Life is about learning. The older we get, the more experiences we have, the wiser we become. The more mature we become. That’s the natural order of things. But in civilized society, a lot of people never become as mature as they should be because they never have the experiences they need to make them mature.”
Evelyn had given their talk considerable thought. City life had always appealed to her much more than life on the frontier, and she planned to move to a city one day, much to her mother’s dismay. She would have a nice house and wear pretty clothes and go to the theater and formal balls, just like the ladies in St. Louis did. Life would be so much easier and a lot less dangerous, and she saw nothing wrong in that.
Random images flitted through Evelyn’s mind. She remembered the first time she had visited St. Louis and been dazzled by the glitter and the glamour. She remembered dragging her mother into every millinery they passed, and trying on dresses and hats and shoes. She remembered how glorious it was to eat hot meals without having to slave over a hot stove to prepare it.
Then Evelyn didn’t think of anything for a while, and when next she opened her eyes, she was shocked to discover she had been asleep for over an hour. The fire had burned low. Fingers of flames were licking at charred branches. Killibrew was snoring as loud as a griz. Kyle had his blanket pulled up over his head. Haro was on his back on the hard ground, impervious to the chill, his arms folded across his painted chest. She glanced toward Bittner and almost whooped for joy.
The burly bear had oozed onto his side and was sound asleep.
Slowly sitting up, Evelyn twisted so she could see Melissa. Exhaustion had taken its toll, and the younger girl was sound asleep. Carefully easing out from under her blanket, Evelyn slid close enough to Melissa to nudge her shoulder. All Melissa did was smack her lips and mutter something. Evelyn nudged her again, harder, and Melissa swatted at her hand as if it were a troublesome fly.
Rising into a crouch, Evelyn took a gamble. She clamped her left hand over Melissa’s mouth and shook. Instantly, Melissa’s eyes snapped wide and she gaped in fear and confusion. “Don’t make a sound!” Evelyn whispered in her ear. “It’s time to go. Do exactly as I do and don’t make any noise.”
Melissa grew calm, and nodded.
Removing her hand, Evelyn straightened. None of the men had stirred. She pointed at a murky phalanx of vegetation at the west end of the shelf and tiptoed toward it. Melissa rose and followed, dragging her blanket behind her, and Evelyn quickly motioned for Melissa to set it down before the rustling woke their abductors. She bore to the left to give Bittner and the fire a wide berth when the glint of the firelight off metal brought her to a stop. Motioning for Melissa to stand still, Evelyn crept toward Bittner’s rifle. They could use a gun, and while it was longer and heavier and a larger caliber than hers, she could use it if she had to.
Suddenly Bittner stopped snoring. Evelyn froze, petrified he was about to wake up. But after five or ten seconds he rolled onto his back and resumed snoring louder than ever. She took another wary step, and another, and was bending to reach down when Bittner mumbled in his sleep and his big arm shifted so it lay across the barrel.
Evelyn frowned and retreated. They would have to do without. She wouldn’t risk wakening him. Keeping one eye on the bad men at all times, she cat-footed toward the edge of the trees.
Melissa was placing each foot down as if she were treading on eggs. She looked scared, very scared, and was biting her lower lip, but to her credit she didn’t falter.
At the firs Evelyn glanced back at the sleeping forms, gripped Melissa’s hand, and plunged into the forest. It was as dark as dark could be, an inky blackness relieved here and there by feeble patches of pale moonlight. She anxiously groped her way, moving slowly at first to avoid making noise, but once they had covered twenty or thirty yards and her eyes had adjusted, she doubled their pace.
Melissa’s fingers were as tense and tight as wire. “Listen to all the animals!” she breathed in suppressed terror. “We’ll be eaten alive!”
Evelyn was so accustomed to the bedlam of night sounds, she tended to take them for granted. In the distance a wolf uttered a waving howl. To the east, toward the prairie, coyotes yipped in ululating chorus. Somewhere to the west a mountain lion screeched like a woman in torment, and closer, but not so close it worried Evelyn, a roving grizzly coughed. “Most of them will leave us be,” she whispered to soothe Melissa’s nerves.
“Most?”
The fact was, Evelyn wasn’t being entirely truthful. Grizzlies were as apt to devour a human as run from one. Cougars were largely unpredictable, but if they sensed fear they were more prone to attack than not. Wolves ordinarily left humans alone, although when they had gone long without making a kill, they went after anything and everything. Then there were lynx and bobcats. Not to mention wolverines. Although rare, they were widely dreaded. Her own mother once tangled with a wolverine that nearly did her in.
Evelyn hurried alertly on, for the moment unconcerned. Nighttime was predator time, but the wilderness was vast and the meat-eaters, while abundant, were nowhere near as plentiful as the elk, deer, and lesser creatures on which they routinely preyed.
A low branch nicked Evelyn’s cheek, reminding her to keep her mind on the matter at hand. She avoided a thicket, slid over a musty log, and proceeded down an open slope toward another belt of trees.
“What’s that?” Melissa asked, extending an arm.
Evelyn looked, and tingled from head to toe. To the northwest, many miles off, flickered a solitary pinpoint of light. It had to be Zach’s cabin! Or so she concluded until she realized they were too far off. They had to traverse several intervening ridges before they would reach his valley.
“It’s a campfire, isn’t it?” Melissa said. “It could be hostiles.”
“It might be friendly Indians or white men, too,” Evelyn rebutted. The Shoshones regularly traveled through the area after buffalo. So did the Flatheads and the Nez Perce—although less frequently—either of whom had ever harmed a white person and took pride in the fact.
One of the greatest shocks of Evelyn’s early years had been the day her father told her about a pair of trappers jumped by a Piegan war party and brutally slain. She had been four or five or thereabouts, and until then she had assumed all people got along as well as her family did with the Shoshones. It upset her tremendously to learn there were tribes who hated whites for the color of their skin, and whites who hated Indians for the very same reason.
Hatred always puzzled Evelyn. She liked people, red and white. Liked getting to know them. Liked making new friends. To her, life was a grand adventure to be lived to the fullest, not spent nursing grudges and despising others for the mere sake of despising them.
It brought to mind Evelyn’s second visit to St. Louis. She had been older, and she had noticed some things she hadn’t noticed before. Such as the cold glances thrown at her brother and her when some people learned they were of mixed blood. Such as the signs in the windows of certain hotels that read “No Indians or Blacks Allowed.” And how blacks and Indians were seated separate from the whites in the few restaurants that would admit them.
Prejudice, her pa called it. The worst kind of hatred. The kind that led to strife and wars. The kind that led those Piegans to butcher those trappers. The kind that led whites to shoot Indians on sight.
It was an insane world and not getting any saner.
A few more yards and trees closed over them, blotting out the feeble light. Evelyn hiked as rapidly as the conditions allowed. Once every minute or two she glanced over her shoulder for evidence of pursuit, but none materialized.
Melissa looked back, too, and said, “What will they do to us if they catch us? Beat us, maybe? Take a switch to our backsides?”
“They’re not going to catch us,” Evelyn vowed. Not if she could help it. With each yard they covered her confidence grew. Once the sun rose and she could see what she was doing, she would try some of the tricks her parents had taught her for throwing pursuers off the scent. Eluding Killibrew, Bittner and Kyle shouldn’t be too difficult, but Haro was another matter. Killibrew had bragged that the ’breed was an excellent tracker, and Evelyn believed him.
More minutes dragged by. More wolves howled, more coyotes yipped. Evelyn was threading through a stand of slender aspens when a twig snapped loudly to their right. She stopped and crouched, pulling Melissa down beside her. Melissa’s fingers constricted around her own like miniature snakes, and she heard the other’s girl’s breath flutter excitedly. Sensing she was about to speak, Evelyn put a hand over her mouth.
Off among the aspens something moved. That it was four-legged and about the size of a foal was obvious; whether it was a meat-eater or a plant-eater wasn’t. Evelyn saw the head bob in a peculiar fashion, as deer were wont to do when testing the wind for sounds and scents, and she relaxed and removed her hand. “It’s all right,” she whispered.
As if to prove her wrong, the woods were pierced by the ringing shriek of a big cat. A mountain lion was hidden in dense brush just beyond the aspens. The deer promptly bolted, fleeing northward, bounding high with each leap. It had gone perhaps fifteen yards when a quicksilver form hurtled out of the brush after it. This one was low to the ground and moved with astounding speed. It overtook the deer in a twinkling and a pitiable bleat rent the night, a bleat punctuated by a throaty snarl, the thrash of limbs, and the crash of a heavy body tumbling end over end.
