Winter Woman, page 23
Four miles later, he entered the last stringer of woods jutting out from the mountain. The wind was slow here and he left well-defined tracks.
The snow had grown shallower as he worked downward. Now as he left the woods, he increased his pace to a trot. The night was half spent and there was much land to travel over if the false sign was to be well laid. When the morning came, the wind might die, as oftentimes it did on the plains. He needed the wind for completion of the deadly game he played.
Two hours later, he reached a narrow strip of woods bordering a creek where the snow was drifting but slightly. There too he left his tracks. He hoped the Crows would wrongly interpret the sign he had made and believe the attacker of their camp bad gone onto the plains, and follow him there. They would not be easily deceived, because they were men who had spent their lives hunting animals, and men.
Beyond the woods, the wind was blowing strongly over smooth, open terrain and the ground blizzard was swiftly filling his tracks. Jacob turned north. He trotted for an hour, then turned ninety degrees and headed back to the west and the mountains.
* * *
The valley was still held captive by the night as Jacob climbed to the top of the high ridge three miles north of Wolf Voice's camp. He had been traveling steadily for most of a day and night and had covered a large expanse of country, all of it through snow, some of it deep. His legs trembled with weariness. Still he could not rest.
With the strong wind clouting him, he made his way along the descending crest of the ridge. It was difficult to maintain his footing, for the ridge's flesh of soil and trees had been stripped away, leaving only its rock bones. The snow was whipped away, unable to lie on the smooth stone.
He recovered the rifles of the two Crows he had killed. With all his weapons ready, he concealed himself above the tree line in a spot where he could watch the Crow camp.
He had left three groups of tracks to lead Wolf Voice away from the valley and the mountains. Should the man not find the signs, or not be fooled by them and instead lead his warriors up the valley, Jacob must try to stop him.
The wind died abruptly around him, as if a great door had been closed to shut it off. The snow ceased swirling over Jacob. He was glad for the arctic wind to stop blowing. The rock upon which he lay was cold enough to send shivers through him.
The valley was shaping itself out of the morning dusk when three Crow warriors came out of the lean-to.
Wolf Voice shoved aside his sleeping robe and sat up under the lean-to. He turned his head first one direction and then another, trying to focus on some sound that could have awakened him. He heard nothing. Even the ground blizzard had blown itself silent. But there was something out there in the night, something dangerous and menacing.
He listened to the warnings that sometimes came to him. There had been no warning when the white trappers had attacked his camp moons ago. Perhaps he was being warned now of their presence. The hate for the white men raced through his veins like molten lead. He had to slay them.
The rays of the low-hanging moon shone in under the roof of the lean-to. In the light, he saw snow had blown in and lay in shallow drifts around his bed, and the beds of Broken Arm and Long Running. The beds had been built on mats of boughs broken from pine trees. The sleeping robes of Broken Arm's sons Far Thunder and Elk Piss were gone and snow drifts lay over their pine mats.
With growing concern, Wolf Voice rose and pulled on his moccasins, coat, and cap. He had slept in his other garments. Both of the men would be gone from the lean-to at the same time when they were changing places at the lookout. However, the thickness of the snow on their mats showed they had been gone much too long for just that single purpose.
"What is the matter?" Broken Arm asked, awakening at the sound of Wolf Voice stirring about.
"Far Thunder and Elk Piss are both gone. And there is snow on both beds."
Broken Arm hastily rose from his bed and began to pull on his fur coat. "We must go and see if anything is wrong," he said with mounting worry for his sons.
"Maybe the two of them are on guard together and talking," Long Running said. He too was swiftly drawing on his outer garments.
"They argue some, but don't talk much with each other," Broken Arm said. He took up his rifle and slung the ammunition pouch over his shoulder.
"I don't like this," Long Running said. "I remember what the white men did the last time we thought we had them trapped."
"Let's not stand here talking," Wolf Voice said. He hurriedly left the lean-to and went into the night. Broken Arm and Long Running followed close behind.
Wolf Voice scanned quickly around into the night as he waded through the snow up the slope. What was threatening them? Where was it? The round moon rode low in the western sky, showing the night was mostly spent. It was a huge ball, magnified as it neared the horizon. Its silver light showed only the unbroken snow around the camp. The dark pines on top of the ridge above the camp stood starkly outlined. He couldn't make out the boulder in the edge of the pines which all had agreed was the best place for the lookout to be stationed.
Wolf Voice slowed as the boulder came into sight. Try as he might, he couldn't make out anyone near it.
"I don't see anyone," Broken Arm said. He increased his pace and moved ahead of Wolf Voice.
"Careful now," Wolf Voice cautioned the impatient man.
Broken Arm hurried on, not heeding the warning. He lessened his pace only as he came close to the boulder rearing up out of the snow. The snowdrift around the stone was large and its surface smooth and unbroken. His worry became fear for his sons.
He stepped on something buried in the snow not far from the stone. He ran his foot along the object. With a horrible certainty, he dropped to his knees and began to fling the snow aside. Far Thunder's face came into view. Broken Arm felt the cheek of his son, and found it cold and stiff.
Broken Arm raised his head to the black sky and howled a shrill, keening call of agony. He cried out again, a long piercing cry full of great sorrow.
Wolf Voice and Long Running ran up and stopped beside Broken Arm, kneeling over the body in the snow.
"Who is it?" Wolf Voice asked.
"Far Thunder," Broken Arm answered his voice tightly controlled. "Help me look for Elk Piss."
Wolf Voice and Long Running began to wade about, circling out from the stone in ever widening circles. In but a short time, Wolf Voice halted with his foot touching something heavy buried under the snow. He squatted and started to dig.
"I've found Elk Piss," he called, chilled with anger. The white men had come in the night as they had before. He looked down at his camp. They hadn't attacked the men who had lain there sleeping. Why was that?
Broken Arm and Long Running came up swiftly and knelt beside the still body in the snow. Broken Arm ran his hand in under the coat of Far Thunder who lay so still. The body was cold.
"He is dead," Broken Arm said, his gut clenching.
"We will kill whoever did this," Wolf Voice promised. "I'm certain it was the white trappers for they like to fight in the night."
"I agree with you," Long Running said. "This has their smell."
"Find their tracks," Wolf Voice said. "Look in the woods. Perhaps not all of them have been blown away by the wind there."
* * *
Jacob saw the three Crows climb up the ridge from their camp and find the bodies of the men he had killed. They began to search for his tracks, and soon one of them shouted out to the others from the pine woods. They talked among themselves, then swiftly broke camp and headed off on horseback along the trail he had left. The corpses of the dead men they took with them, tied across the backs of mustangs. His plan was working, at least for the time being.
Jacob dropped down from the ridge and hastened up the channel of the frozen creek. An hour later he retrieved his pack of raw skins and sleeping robe from where he had concealed them. He must rest for a time. The cabin was miles away and it would be nightfall by the time he could reach it.
Wearily he hacked boughs from a pine tree and spread them to keep his robe off the snow while he slept. He dropped down, wrapped himself in the soft robe, and went immediately to sleep.
* * *
Maude caressed the cold iron barrel of the rifle that had once belonged to Glen Kinshaw. What a lovely, deadly weapon it was. She raised it to her shoulder and aimed it through the trees at the path beside the creek. Yes, she could hit a man at that range.
She was hidden in a thick grove of pine trees some three miles downstream from the cabin. She had selected the location because the valley narrowed there for a short ways, and anyone traveling along the creek would have to come within rifle range. Also, the distance would be great enough that Cora, inside the cabin, would not hear the shot that killed the trapper.
Maude lowered the rifle. She had loaded the weapon with an extra heavy charge of powder. There must be no chance the man would survive the wound. Maude chuckled happily at the thought of the bullet tearing into Jacob, and the horrible pain he would experience before he died. Soon the trapper would no longer be a threat to her.
This was the second day Maude had waited for Jacob to return. She waited patiently, for return he would, because of Cora.
Twenty-nine
Jacob trotted upstream along the frozen creek. The sun had already fallen cold and sullen behind the snowy mountains. Dusk was gathering among the big cottonwoods and pines of the valley bottom, welding them all together into a world of gray, murky shadow. He hurried, for he didn't want to sleep another night in the snow.
What kind of welcome would he receive from Cora? Most probably she would be the same distant, untalkative girl he had left almost four days before. He would not like that, but simply being near her would give him pleasure. At the thought of seeing her pretty face again, he increased his pace.
* * *
Maude came instantly alert in her hiding place in the pine thicket when she spotted something moving through the woods. A second later she identified the trapper trotting in her direction. He had a bulky pack on his back. Two rifles were tied to the outside of the pack. He carried a third in his hand. Where had he acquired the two additional rifles? The load must be heavy; still, he ran easily on his snowshoes.
The man was very strong. She recalled the hardness of his fist and the power of his blows when they fought each other on the prairie. He must never be given the chance to hit her again. She raised the rifle to her shoulder.
Maude caught the trapper with the front post sight of the rifle, and then settled both post and man into the notch of the rear sight. Holding her aim on his chest, she tracked him as he drew ever nearer. She ignored the trees that passed between her gun and target. Just a few more paces along his course and he would be at his closest point to her. At that place, there was a small opening in the woods; she had chosen her shooting stand carefully.
She felt her pulse speeding as she looked across the sights of the rifle at the trapper. He should have been killed long ago, before he had made love to Cora. That could not be reversed, but never again would he have the opportunity to be near Cora.
Maude squinted through the grainy light of the thickening dusk. The trapper was almost at the opening. There he would die. Her finger took up the slack in the trigger. Not too much pressure, Maude, don't get overanxious and fire before everything is perfect. She chuckled in anticipation of seeing the man fall, and the sights of the rifle bobbled a little. Stop that.
The trapper came into the opening. Then, to Maude's surprise and consternation, he suddenly sprang ahead at a faster pace. The sights of the rifle fell behind him. In three long strides, and before Maude could shift her weapon to bear on him again, he was into the trees beyond the clearing.
Maude shook with angry frustration. How had he known she was there with a rifle trained on him? Why else except to escape from her would he have so abruptly increased his speed across the opening? Damn him to hell.
She gripped the rifle and watched the woods where Jacob had disappeared. Would he now be hiding behind some tree along the path up the valley and shoot her as she passed? She must be very cautious as she returned to the cabin.
* * *
Cora straightened from stirring the food in the cooking pot hanging in the heat of the fireplace. She listened for Maude, who should have returned by now. The only sound from the outside was the wind whistling around the cabin and clattering the wood-shingled roof. The wind found the chimney and came tumbling down into the fireplace. The fire arched its back and hissed at the wind.
Cora went to the door and opened it to look outside. The cold wind rushed over her, forming goose pimples on her bare arms and she folded them across her bosom. She glanced both ways along the creek channel. In the deep mountain valley the days were short and the night was falling rapidly. There was only the snow, and the frozen trees, and the darkness filling in the spaces between them.
She was worried about Maude being lost in the woods in the black night. For the past two days, Maude had left the cabin early with one of the dead trappers' rifles to hunt for game. Always she returned by evening dusk. She had killed nothing the first day. Perhaps she'd had better luck today and that was why she was late. Still, if she did not return very soon it would be too dark to see to travel and she would have to spend the night in the snow. Cora shivered at the remembrance of sleeping outside in the bitter cold. She closed the door.
* * *
Through the trees ahead, Jacob saw light spilling out the open door of the cabin. Then the light winked out as the door was closed. He slowed and came on at a slow walk. Now that he was at the cabin, he was reluctant to enter. He expected coldness from Cora, and from Maude, total hatred. Both would be awful to face.
To hell with both women. He was tired and hungry. He removed his snowshoes and leaned them against the cabin wall. He went to the door, shoved it open, and stepped inside.
Cora was near the fireplace. Maude was nowhere in sight. At least he would have a moment without that woman's baleful eye upon him.
Cora heard the door open and spun around. Jacob stood just inside the doorway. She waited, looking at him and, since Maude was not present, expecting him to smile at her. But there was no smile for her. His face had grown a harder skin, and she sensed a farawayness in him.
She knew she was responsible for the change in him. She had caused him to become someone else, a sad man who did not smile and masked his feeling toward her. Or maybe he no longer cared for her. Regardless of that, he needed cheering up. She gave him a smile.
Jacob was surprised at the lovely, wonderful smile of welcome that Cora gave him. His tight face softened and a broad smile of his own broke through. All his love for the girl welled up and sent his blood rushing. From the expression that came into Cora's eyes he knew she understood his emotion. She continued to look steadily back at him, but her smile became uncertain, and then faded away entirely.
He dropped his pack to the floor, laid his rifle across it, and moved toward Cora. His desire for her was so strong He could not resist it, no matter if Maude should come through the door the next instant behind him. He caught Cora up in his arms, and crushed her to him.
Cora knew she should be resisting Jacob. However, she seemed to be burning, but a cold burn, like foxfire in some dark wood. She was sure her skin was cool to Jacob's touch. He began to kiss her, his lips finding hers through his beard.
Cora leaned back from Jacob, and put her hands on his chest to push him away. But it was too late for that. Her cold fire had burst into bright flame.
Jacob looked down at Cora. Her eyes seemed on the point of ignition.
* * *
Maude crept along the path leading to the cabin. The imprints of Jacob's snowshoes were very faint in the frail light. She trembled, fearful that a rifle would explode and send a bullet slamming into her from the trees rearing darkly on all sides. A second great fear crowded the first in her mind, a fear that Jacob was at the cabin alone with Cora.
She gripped her rifle and wished for more light to drive away the murk in the woods so she could see her enemy. At the same time, she was glad for the growing darkness so he could not see to shoot her. All the conflicting thoughts made her head ache. Damn the trapper to hell. Her headache, all her problems, was his fault.
The square, squat form of the cabin came into sight, and she halted and straightened to her full height. She had not been shot. My God! That meant he was in the cabin with Cora.
Maude rushed across the snow to the cabin. Strangely, the door stood partially open. Silently she shoved it open further and looked inside.
The light of the flames from the fireplace showed Jacob on his bunk with Cora. They were locked in each, other's arms. Maude heard Cora's passionate whispers as she and the trapper took their love. Their strong, young bodies were thrusting quick and hard at each other, as violent as a knife fight.
Anger boiled up in Maude and raced like molten lead through her veins. She felt the throbbing of her heart to the very tips of her fingers. Her breath came scalding in her lungs. She jerked the rifle up to her shoulder and through a dark haze aimed it at the center of Jacob's back. Cora's promises were nothing, for she could not resist the man's advances. I'll kill the bastard and then there will be no temptation for Cora.
Thirty
Maude aimed the rifle at the entangled bodies of Cora and Jacob on the bunk. She tried to align the rifle sights on Jacob in such a manner as not to also shoot Cora. Several times she was on the point of firing, but held her finger. So close were the lovers embracing and so swift their movement, there was always the strong likelihood the bullet would pass through Jacob and also hit Cora.
Then a horrible thought came to Maude. She must endure what Jacob and her sister were doing. For should she slay Jacob in front of Cora, what then? Would Cora still marry Clive? Maude had to destroy the trapper somewhere away from the cabin, make him permanently disappear. Cora must never have any suspicions that Maude was connected with him not returning. Maude lowered the rifle, pulled the door shut and backed away into the night.
