Wilderness Double Edition 15, page 7
Then they came to the cabin and Nate was waiting, rubbing the back of his head, a pained expression on his face. “There you are.”
“Something wrong, Pa?” Zach inquired.
“My head is throbbing like the dickens.”
“Why?” Zach asked, even though he had a fair idea.
“Someone propped a log over the door inside the tack shed and didn’t tell the rest of us. You wouldn’t happen to have any idea who?”
Evelyn was none too happy. She’d had to wash the breakfast dishes and the supper dishes from last night. Which wasn’t fair. Zach and she always took turns, but Zach had forgotten to do the supper dishes because he was out setting his stupid traps. Or that was the excuse he gave their parents.
There were days when Evelyn couldn’t comprehend why the Almighty had seen fit to inflict a brother on her. Why not a sister? A girl like Louisa would be a lot of fun. Someone who wouldn’t boss her around or treat her like she was a nuisance.
In the lazy heat of mid-afternoon, Evelyn strolled around the clearing, bored to death. She liked to play in the woods, but her folks wouldn’t let her. It wasn’t safe, they said. Not with all that had been going on.
Zach’s shirt had been the last straw. Her mother had been fit to spit rocks, and her father had taken Zach and gone off to hunt the prowler down. “We’re not waiting for McNair,” he had announced. “We’re ending it now before someone is hurt.”
Evelyn wasn’t as upset as everyone else. To her mind, if whoever was doing all the bad stuff wanted to hurt them, the person could have done it at any time. No, she was more disturbed by the little man in the cave.
For the life of her, Evelyn couldn’t see how she had been mistaken. It had been the middle of the afternoon, just like now, and she had seen the little man as clearly as she saw the cabin. The hole in the ground, the wrinkled figure, they had been real. For her father to doubt her, for her parents to think she had made the whole thing up in her head, was almost enough to make her cry.
Somehow, Evelyn had to show them she had been telling the truth. But how, when the cave and the small man were gone? Depressed, she moved toward a log in the shade, a log she had roosted on many times. Not paying much attention, she didn’t notice the object lying on it until she was about to sit down.
“What’s this doing here?”
A small piece of sweetcake rested in the very center. Suspecting her brother was up to no good, Evelyn looked around. She was alone. Along with blackberry pie, Evelyn relished her mother’s delicious sweetcakes most, so without delay she picked it up and stuffed it into her mouth. The piece was dry and crumbled apart, but it was as tasty as any other. Smacking her lips, Evelyn began to sit when her gaze alighted on another piece of sweetcake about ten hops and a jump into the trees.
“What’s going on?”
More convinced than ever that her brother was behind it, Evelyn cautiously entered the forest. She was disobeying her parents, but it was only to treat herself to the morsel. It occurred to her that maybe Zach had left it as a test, to see whether she was brave enough to go in the woods on her own. It also occurred to her that she shouldn’t, that if her folks caught her she would be punished. But it was only a short way—and she did so crave sweetcake.
A heavy stillness hung over the valley, not at all unusual at that time of day. Bands of sunlight and shadow dappled the earth, and a dank scent filled Evelyn’s nostrils. She had to brush some specks of dirt off the second piece before she could take a bite. Like the first, it was quite dry.
A glass of water was in order. Licking her fingers, Evelyn was on the verge of shifting when she spotted yet another piece of cake even farther into the undergrowth. It lay in a clear patch close to a dense thicket. Her ridiculously stupid brother had gone to a lot of effort, but it was all right by her. When it came to sweetcake she was a bottomless pit. Skipping toward it, she thought of the times she had used the same trick to lure birds. She’d make a trail of bread crumbs leading right up to her hiding place, and the birds would come so close she could reach out and touch them. Or try to. Most were amazingly quick and usually flew off before she could grab them. Once she caught hold of a sparrow and tried to pet it, but it wouldn’t stop thrashing and chirping, so she’d let it go.
Hunkering, Evelyn bit into the third piece and said, “Mmmmmm!” real loud, just in case her brother was spying on her. She wanted him to know how much she liked his latest game. “Thanks!” she called out, and giggled.
That was when a strange feeling came over her. A feeling that she was indeed being watched. A feeling so strong, she didn’t doubt it was true. Glancing up, she searched but saw no one. As her eyes roved over the thicket, though, a shape deep within the shadows caught her interest. It might be a small log, but it was taller than it was wide and the upper part resembled a small head and neck.
Evelyn wondered if it was an animal, a coon or a possum or maybe a marmot. Leaning forward, she sought to get a better view but the shadows hindered her. “Howdy, little critter,” she said good-naturedly. She had always liked animals.
The thing moved. Evelyn distinctly saw it change position and rise higher. Eyelids blinked. Eyes that glowed a dim, pale shade of red appeared. That worried her until she recollected that at night the eyes of animals often glowed when light from a lantern or a fire shone on them.
“What are you, little fella? Come out where I can see you.”
The animal moved toward her, but only a few shuffling steps. Evelyn held out the last of the sweetcake. “Here? Want a bite? I’ll let you eat right out of my hand.” She had fed chipmunks and squirrels that way, and a friendly possum that used to come around periodically.
The thing stayed where it was.
“Pretty please,” Evelyn coaxed, beckoning. To her astonishment, the creature raised a limb and imitated her, beckoning to her as she’d just done. “I’ll be!” she exclaimed. She’d never seen the like.
Back when Evelyn’s mother was young, another Shoshone girl had tamed a raccoon and taught it all kinds of tricks. It would sit on the girl’s lap, roll over on command, rub its paws together, and even cover its eyes like it was playing hide-and-seek. Evelyn always wished she had a coon of her own, or any animal that would do the same.
“Come on. Don’t be afraid. I’m harmless.”
The animal made a sound. Sort of a cross between the whine of a puppy and the mew of a kitten.
Evelyn laughed. “Does that mean you’d like this treat?” She wagged the sweetcake and smacked her lips. “It’s better than any old bugs or frogs or whatever you usually eat.” Bending until she nearly tipped over, she eased her arm into the thicket so as not to alarm it.
The thing moved a bit nearer.
“You’ll have to come closer than that,” Evelyn said. “I can’t reach any farther.” She couldn’t make out what it was beyond noting that it had a lot of hair. She also had the impression it was hunched over, probably because it was afraid. So she sat real quiet.
Again the animal advanced, threading through the thicket with ease.
The growth was so thick, the limbs so interwoven, that Evelyn couldn’t see how the creature moved so freely. A mouse would have trouble making its way through that maze. Clasping the piece of cake so it was at the ends of her fingers, she patiently waited for her prospective new pet to take it.
A new sound fell on her ears, a low trilling, or purring, like a sound a cat would make. The eyes had stopped glowing, or had they? Evelyn could see two thin reddish slits. It must have had its eyes almost shut, but that was ridiculous.
Only a couple of feet separated them, yet Evelyn still couldn’t determine what kind of animal it was. The shape was all wrong for a raccoon. And the body was too thin to be a possum or a marmot.
The thing had halted and was swaying from side to side, a sign it was too scared to come the rest of the way.
“Just a little more,” Evelyn cooed. “Take this piece and I’ll fetch you more. We can be great friends, the two of us. Like my brother and his wolf were.”
Years before, Zach had befriended a wolf cub and raised it as his own, and the two had shared a special bond. Wherever Zach went, the wolf went. Whatever Zach did, the wolf was always right at his side. Evelyn had envied him no end. Then one day the wolf heard some of its kind howling up in the mountains, and not long after, it ran off. From time to time it would visit Zach, but each stay was shorter than the last until finally it loped off, never to return. Her father said it was just being true to its nature, that wolves weren’t meant to be cooped up in cabins or fed out of pans. They had to run wild and free.
A rustling noise ended Evelyn’s reverie. She was shocked to discover the creature was now an arm’s length away. As luck would have it, the spot where it stood was in the shadow of a nearby tree. She tingled with anticipation as its shoulders moved and a paw rose toward the sweetcake. Another couple of inches and she’d have done it!
Suddenly the animal growled.
“Blue Flower! What are you doing?”
Startled, Evelyn glanced over her shoulder. At the edge of the trees was her mother, and her ma didn’t look happy. Evelyn turned back to the animal, but it was gone. Into a burrow, she assumed. Yanking her arm from the thicket, she rose, keeping her hands behind her back.
Winona placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot, irked by her daughter’s behavior. Among her people it was unthinkable for a child to disobey a parent. From the cradleboard on, children were taught to always respect the wishes of their elders. “What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?”
“I’m staying close to the cabin like you told me,” Evelyn said innocently.
“You weren’t to leave the clearing,” Winona sternly reminded her. “I made that plain to you. But you did so anyway.”
“I only went a little ways.”
Winona was in no mood to quibble. “When we say you cannot leave the clearing, we mean just that. You were not to take one step into the forest.”
“Ah, Ma.” Evelyn wished her mother hadn’t spoiled everything. “I can take care of myself.”
“No, you cannot,” Winona bluntly responded. “Until we find whatever has been coming around, you are not to go anywhere alone. And for disobeying me, you will do all the dishes for the next seven days.”
Evelyn clutched her chest. “A whole week? That’s not fair.” Winona held up a finger. “One more word and it will be for an entire moon.” Her daughter didn’t seem to recognize the seriousness of the situation, so for Blue Flower’s own sake, she had to be firm. “Now come inside and help me sew.”
Miserable as could be, Evelyn glumly obeyed. As they turned the corner she gave the thicket a last look and could have sworn she glimpsed a pair of shiny red eyes.
Six
Evening descended on the Rocky Mountains. The shadows of jagged peaks cast lower slopes in murky twilight. Lakes, ponds, and rivers that were bright blue during the day acquired duskier hues. The deep woods were plunged in gloom. All along the front range animals were on the move, the grass-eaters seeking shelter for the night, the meat-eaters leaving their dens to stretch and go in quest of prey.
But in the Kings’ valley not so much as a caterpillar stirred. All day Nate had noted an absence of wildlife, and it alarmed him that their absence was most obvious in the immediate vicinity of the cabin. All the birds, all the squirrels, all the chipmunks were gone. He hadn’t seen a rabbit or deer since morning.
Something was wrong, dreadfully wrong. A lack of game meant a large predator was abroad, but he had long since eliminated all grizzlies and mountain lions, and Winona had killed the last wolverine.
His horses added to the ominous portents. Since late afternoon they had stood huddled in a corner of the corral closest to the cabin, their rumps against the rails, their ears pricked toward the woods.
Something was out there, something that frightened them. A threat that caused even Nate’s big stallion to act like a timid foal. Their nervousness had grown with each passing hour, and by evening they were constantly nickering, their eyes wide, their nostrils flared.
Nate shared their apprehension. Danger loomed, danger to his family, to those who were his whole life. It was frustrating beyond measure, not knowing what form the danger would take or when it would strike.
Seated on a stump at the clearing’s border, Hawken across his thighs, Nate stared out over his private domain. This valley was his home. Eighteen years earlier he’d claimed it for his own and held on to it, defying repeated attempts by the Utes and others to drive him out. In all that time, none of the threats he faced were as unnerving as this new one.
Confronting a known enemy was one thing, confronting an elusive foe who defied his every attempt to track it down, another. Nate had no notion of who or what he was up against, and it was that, more than the absence of wildlife and the terrified horses, that disturbed him most. How could he protect his loved ones when he had no clue what he was protecting them from? How could he defend his domain when it had been invaded by a will-o’-the-wisp?
A destructive will-o’-the-wisp. An adversary who grew increasingly brazen, as the shredding of his son’s shirt demonstrated. How long, Nate fretted, before the skulker in the forest vented its violent urges on people instead of objects? How long before someone he cared for was harmed?
Soft footsteps jarred Nate’s thoughts. He arced the Hawken’s muzzle toward the source and found himself pointing the rifle at his wife. “Sorry,” he said, hastily letting the barrel droop. “I didn’t realize it was you.”
Winona had seen him from a window. He had been facing the other way, but she could tell by his posture he was tense and troubled. “It is not like you, husband, to jump at shadows.”
“I am a mite edgy,” Nate admitted. He didn’t say why. There was no need.
Taking hold of his hand, Winona pressed it to her lips. “Calm yourself. No one has been hurt.”
“Yet.”
Of males’ many traits that confounded Winona, their knack for focusing on the worst that could happen was one of the foremost. Women were much more apt to look at the rosy side of things. “I have complete confidence in you. Just remember. We are a family. We oppose our enemies together.”
Nate motioned for her to sit, then squatted beside the stump. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe you should take Zach and the girls and go visit your people.” The sharp look she bestowed on him compelled him to add, “Only for a little while. Until it’s safe.”
“We are not leaving you,” Winona said flatly.
“But—”
She touched a finger to his mouth. “A King does not run out on a King. Are those not your own words? Shoshones, too, put family above all else. How would my relatives treat me if they learned I had deserted you when you were in need?” She shook her head, her luxurious raven hair swirling. “No. I stay. Warriors are not the only ones who must show courage in a crisis.”
Nate was prepared for her argument. “If not for your own sake, do it for Zach, Evelyn, and Lou.”
“Our children have always stood by us when we are in peril. Remember when Blue Flower was a baby and Stalking Coyote saved her from those killers? And how our son held his own in Blackfoot country?” Winona beamed proudly. “They are like their father in that they do not run from difficulty. They face it. They conquer it.”
Nate had saved the most important point for last. His voice broke as he said it, for to confess that he was less than he should be tore at the fabric of his manhood. “I don’t know if I can protect them.”
“You will do your best, as you always do. More than that we cannot ask.”
“Didn’t you hear me, Winona? I can’t promise you they’ll live through this. Whatever we’re up against is more than a match for me. So far it’s only toyed with us. But what if it chooses to rip up one of our kids instead of some saddles?” Nate paused. “I can’t stop it.”
“Nonsense. It is flesh and blood, like we are. So it can be killed, just as we can. Perhaps alone you cannot stop it, but you are not alone. You have all of us to help you. Together, we will beat it.”
“How can I talk sense into you when you’ve already made up your mind?” Nate complained. Experience had taught him that once she did, he’d have to move heaven and earth to get her to change it. And he didn’t have the time to spare. They had to get the younger ones out of there before it was too late.
“It is settled, then.”
Nate refused to concede. “It’s nothing of the sort. I’ll have a talk with each of them.” He could convince Zach to spirit Louisa away to spare her. As for Evelyn, she had a stubborn streak like her mother, but she never could refuse him when he asked nicely.
Winona bent so they were nose to nose, then pecked him on the cheek. Running her fingers through his beard, she gripped his chin. “Husband, in all the winters we have been together I have never doubted you. I have never questioned your judgment. But I say to you, this time you are wrong.”
“I don’t want them hurt,” Nate emphasized.
“And I do?” Winona put her forehead against his. “Shakespeare McNair and you like to joke that women think with their hearts and not their heads. I ask you, which one of us is doing that now?” She didn’t give him the opportunity to answer. “You are worried because you love us. We love you, too, and are just as worried about you. Together, united, our love will be the glue that binds us in our hardship. Together we will prevail, or together we will fall. The important thing is that we stand by one another, that we live or die as a family.”
The depth of her devotion brought a lump to Nate’s throat, and he coughed. “You’re the greatest gift the good Lord ever gave me. You, and Zach and Evelyn. I’d feel better if all of you were well away from here.”
“And what of us? I would not sleep until you were in my arms again. Stalking Coyote would never forgive you for treating him as if he were not worthy to fight by your side. And Blue Flower would shed countless tears.” Winona stroked his brow. “We have a right to be with you. If you care for us as much as you say, you will not deny us.”
