Wilderness Double Edition #7 Read online

  He dashed past Flying Hawk, and tensed to leap over the barricade when something jarred his left hand. Assuming he had banged the water bag against the barricade, he went on over and dropped to his knees to catch his breath. Caked with sweat, he wiped a sleeve across his brow, then stuck the tomahawk under his belt and turned to the water bag.

  Smoky Woman’s gasp echoed his own.

  A dart had struck the bag at the bottom, rupturing the old skin and creating a hole several inches in diameter. The water was pouring out, and already over half of the contents had spilled onto the dry earth.

  Frantically, Nate scooped the bag up and tried to stem the flow with his hand, to no avail. Rising, he ran to the chamber, to the pot, and emptied what was left into it. Barely an inch covered the bottom of the pot when the last drop splashed down.

  Disheartened, Nate looked at Solomon Cain, and was surprised to see him awake and alert although coated with perspiration from the fever. Cain glanced from the water bag to the pot to Nate’s face.

  “You made it to the spring, I take it.”

  Nate wearily nodded.

  “Thank you for tryin’,” Cain said, and coughed. “You share that water amongst yourselves. There’s no need to waste any of it on me.”

  “Don’t talk foolishness.”

  “I’m no fool, King. I’m burnin’ up inside. My wound is infected. There’s poison in my system.”

  “You’ll pull through.”

  “Like hell. I ain’t goin’ to make it and you know it.”

  A low cry heralded Smoky Woman’s rush to Cain’s side. “Not talk this way! You strong! You live!”

  “I’d surely like to,” Cain met her gaze. “But bein’ as strong as an ox don’t count for much when the Reaper comes a-callin’. Even an ox dies sometimes.”

  Nate dropped the water bag and put a hand on Smoky Woman’s shoulder. “Pay him no mind. It’s the fever talking. We’ll see to it that he gets out of here alive.”

  She knelt and touched Cain’s face. “We need water. Much water.”

  “I’ll try again as soon as I’m rested up,” Nate proposed.

  Cain tried to sit up but couldn’t. “Now who’s talkin’ foolishness?” he rasped. “Those bastards out there ain’t about to let you reach the pool a second time. They’ll keep a real close guard on it, and they’ll be ready for you if you try.”

  “I have no choice.”

  “Yes, you do. Come nightfall you have to get Smoky Woman out of here. Take that pigheaded brother of hers and light out for the mountains to the east. By mornin’ you’ll be in the clear.”

  “And what about you?”

  Cain vented a bitter laugh. “I know my time has run its course. You just leave me here. I couldn’t ride far anyway.”

  “We’re not about to desert you,” Nate declared, thinking that a day or so earlier he might have been differently inclined. “If we leave, you’re leaving with us. And that’s final.”

  “I’m surrounded by pigheads,” Cain muttered.

  Smoky Woman gently touched his lips and said sternly, “You be quiet! Rest until better.”

  Leaving them, Nate walked to the barricade and occupied himself with reloading both pistols while contemplating what to do. He had to admit that Cain was right. The savages would be clustered around the pool as thick as bees around a hive. He’d never make it there and back a second time. And since they couldn’t very well stay in the cave and let themselves be starved into submission, they had to do just as Cain had proposed: cut out after dark.

  They would ride light, taking only a parfleche or two filled with food. The rest of Cain’s provisions—and the packs of gold—would have to be left behind.

  He debated whether they should split up or stick together, and decided on the latter. There was strength in numbers, and if one of them went down the others would be right there to help. The next issue to decide was which direction to take. Going to the north was impossible because of the cliff, and riding westward, even though the land was flat and relatively open, would necessitate making too wide a loop through hostile territory in order to swing around and reach the mountain range to the east. If they went to the south they’d come on the dry wash, which he suspected harbored a few savages since it was an ideal spot to hide. So the only option left them was to ride like hell to the east, up and over the rise before the savages pierced then with lances and darts. Once they had the rise behind them, they could easily outdistance their pursuers.

  Or so he hoped, anyway, as he finished reloading the flintlocks and wedged them under his belt. Retrieving the Hawken, he suddenly realized the Ute was staring pointedly at him. “You have a question?” he signed.

  “I have an idea,” the warrior clarified.

  “Tell me.”

  Flying Hawk glanced at the bend, then moved closer to sign, “I say we give False Tongue to them. He is the one to blame for this, and he will not live long anyway. If we tie him to one of the horses and send the horse out, the strange ones who seek to count coup on us will go after him. While they are busy we can escape.”

  The cruel suggestion further impressed Nate with Flying Hawk’s hatred of Cain. And while he could understand the Ute’s feelings, he couldn’t condone them. “Do you think your sister will stand by and do nothing while we send False Tongue to his death?”

  “You can hold her while I do what is needed.”

  “No. I will not take sides in your dispute.”

  “Why do you care what happens to False Tongue? Look at all the trouble he had brought down on your head. You should want to see him dead as much as I do.”

  “I will not be a party to killing a man who cannot defend himself.”

  Flying Hawk uttered an explosive “Wagh!” and turned away in disgust.

  Nate didn’t attempt to press the matter. He recognized doing so would be futile. Flying Hawk was too blinded by bigotry to ever listen to the moderating voice of reason, Only Cain’s death would satisfy the Ute.

  Nate went to the horses and gave Pegasus a rubdown. The gelding and the other two mounts stood with their heads hung low, hungry and thirsty and hot. Regrettably, there wasn’t enough room for any of them to lie down. All three had relieved themselves in the passageway during the night and the smell was becoming worse by the hour.

  Nate waited a sufficient length of time for Flying Hawk to cool down, then went over and broached the subject of leaving once night fell. The Ute made no comment until the very end.

  “Who will Cain ride with? It will not be me.”

  “I have the fastest horse so I’ll be the one,” Nate volunteered, keenly aware of the disadvantage he would face when the time came for them to flee. He saw Flying Hawk smile. Why? Was the warrior inwardly gloating because he knew it would be a miracle if Nate and Cain got further than thirty yards from the cave?

  Brooding, he sat down near the barricade and spent the next several hours racking his brain for another way out of their fix. He considered everything from sneaking out and trying to pick the savages off one by one to starting a huge fire at the cave entrance and escaping under cover of the smoke. Few of his ideas were practical. None were appealing. If they sneaked out the savages would probably pick them off instead. And thick smoke would blind them as well as the Indians, slowing them down during the precious span of seconds when they’d need all the speed their mounts could muster.

  The golden sun climbed steadily upward, passed its zenith, and slid toward the western horizon. Outside nothing moved. The landscape gave off shimmering waves of heat that distorted objects in the distance.

  Nate used an old trick that made a person salivate more than usual to partially ease his thirst; he stuck a pebble in his mouth. About two in the afternoon Flying Hawk asked him to stand watch for a while alone, and he agreed. The warrior promptly went back to the chamber. Shortly thereafter angry voices could be heard.

  As Nate surveyed the ground outside he saw that the bodies of the Indians slain that morning had all vanished. Lik
e the Apaches, these savages never left their dead behind, perhaps out of fear the bodies would be mutilated. Of course, they hadn’t been able to get the ones in the cave. Yet.

  The heat and the lack of activity combined to produce waves of drowsiness, which he fought off with repeated shakes of his head. To pass the time and to stay awake he sharpened his butcher knife and the tomahawk.

  A while later Flying Hawk returned. His lips were thin slits, his eyes blazing with fury. “She will not listen to me!” he signed angrily.

  Nate responded with, “If there is one important lesson I have learned from being married, it is that women have minds of their own. They do not like for men to tell them what to do. Most do not even like for men to make suggestions. So your sister is no exception. Women are more independent than most men give them credit for being.”

  “I am only concerned for her,” Flying Hawk signed. “I do not want to see her spend the rest of her life in misery.” He paused. “She belongs with my people, not with yours.”

  “She belongs wherever she will be happiest, and you have made it plain that your people will not take kindly to her having a child fathered by a white man.”

  “I have influence in our councils. I might be able to persuade our people to accept the child.”

  “And if you failed?”

  “The Utes are many, with many villages. We would find one where they would allow my sister to live in peace, where they would let her child live as a Ute should.”

  Here was an unexpected development. Previously Flying Hawk had been unwilling to countenance the child’s birth; now the warrior was willing to help his sister raise the child if she would stay with their people. There was hope for the man after all, Nate reflected wryly. “Smoky Woman does not want to do this?” he asked.

  “No,” Flying Hawk gestured sharply. “She still wants to live with False Tongue among your kind. All my words were wasted on her ears.” He looked at Nate. “Would you talk to her?”

  “It is not my place.”

  “Or is it that you do not agree with me? Do you believe she would be better off among your people than mine?”

  “What I think does not count. She has made her decision and nothing I could say would change it.”

  Scowling, Flying Hawk leaned both arms on the top of the barricade, effectively ending their conversation.

  The remainder of the afternoon passed in strained silence. Nate kept to himself and the warrior did the same. When, eventually, the shadows lengthened and the sun neared the horizon, Nate stirred and signed, “It is time to get ready.”

  He saddled Pegasus and brought the Palouse close to the barricade, then let the reins dangle. His parfleches were easy to locate and he strapped them on behind the saddle. The other horses were left bareback for the Utes.

  Smoky Woman had Cain’s head cradled on her lap and was wiping his face with a damp cloth when Nate entered. Mercifully Cain had passed out again.

  “We’ll be leaving soon,” he announced.

  “Him very weak.”

  “I know. We’ll use some rope and tie him to me so he won’t fall off.”

  “Tie him to me.”

  Nate touched her elbow. “I’m a mite bigger and stronger than you are. He’s less likely to pull me off if he starts to fall.”

  Lambent pools of abiding affection were turned on him. “He pressed to my heart.”

  “I know.”

  “Take care of him.”

  “I will,” Nate pledged sincerely.

  Flying Hawk lent a reluctant hand at Nate’s request in carrying the unconscious man from the chamber. They moved slowly to avoid jostling Cain, who mumbled the whole time, and set him down on his back next to Pegasus. Nate swung up, then inched forward as far as he could to make room for Cain.

  While Smoky Woman helped to hold Solomon steady, Flying Hawk brought the rope over. With Nate helping, they quickly looped it several times around Cain’s lower back and Nate’s midsection, arranging the knot so it was just above Nate’s buckle where he could get at it readily.

  Smoky Woman mounted, Cain’s pistol in her right hand, his rifle in her left, her eyes locked on the man she loved.

  The warrior, ducking low, went to the end of the barricade and rolled the corpses aside to make an opening for the horses. Scooting back, he held his bow in his right hand and climbed onto the third animal.

  Nate could feel the heavy weight of Cain’s body pressing against him, compelling him to stiffen his back muscles to stay upright. It wasn’t that Cain was heavy. Quite the contrary. But in Cain’s current state he was just so much dead weight. Suddenly Nate was taken aback to feel Cain stir feebly.

  “What the hell is goin’ on? Why am I on a horse?”

  “We’re cutting out, Solomon,” Nate said, twisting his head. “So shush until we’re in the clear.”

  Cain blinked a few times, his forehead furrowed. “The gold, King? Are you bringing the gold?”

  There was a despondent, pleading quality to Cain’s tone that caused Nate to do something he rarely did. “Yes, we’re taking it with us. Now don’t talk and hold on tight.”

  A weak nod was Cain’s reply.

  Outside, twilight had claimed the wasteland. Nate held the reins loosely in his right hand, the Hawken tight in his left, and anxiously waited for the darkness to deepen. Solomon Cain passed out again and began breathing deeply. Pegasus fidgeted. So did the other horses. All three were eager to leave the cramped confines of the cave.

  At last Nate judged the time to be ripe, and with a lash of the reins and a poke of his heels he rode Pegasus out into the ominous night.

  Eleven

  The moment Nate was clear of the cave he reined to the left and galloped toward the rise, Smoky Woman and Flying Hawk right behind him. Twelve hoofs drummed in staccato rhythm, clattering on the rocky ground, making enough racket to alert every savage within a quarter of a mile. A harsh cry to the south was attended by a series of cries from the vicinity of the spring and a couple more from on top of the cliff.

  Pegasus was a pied-colored streak, his head level with his flowing body, his mane flying. It was all Nate could do to stay in the saddle. Not because of the gelding. Solomon Cain was flapping wildly against him and swaying with every stride the Palouse took, threatening to topple them both. Too late Nate discovered the rope wasn’t holding Cain as securely as he’d thought it would.

  On he galloped anyway, knowing to slow down now was certain suicide. The rise loomed directly ahead. He swept up the slope, and had gotten a third of the way to the top when to his rear a horse whinnied in pain and there was a tremendous crash.

  Now Nate did slow and glance back. He was horrified to see Smoky Woman’s mount had gone down, a lance jutting from its heaving side. She had lost both guns in the tumble but was unhurt. Springing up, she lifted her arms at a yell from her brother. The next second Flying Hawk reached her and yanked her roughly up behind him. Then, using his bow as a quirt, the warrior started up the slope.

  Darts were flying fast and thick. Lances cleaved the air. The enraged cries of the pursuing savages would have brought gooseflesh to a dead man.

  Nate goaded Pegasus upward. The gelding had lost a lot of momentum and struggled to go faster. A whizzing dart clipped Nate’s shoulder but didn’t draw any blood. Another nicked the Palouse’s ear and did.

  “Go! Go!” Nate urged, slapping his legs against Pegasus’s sides. All it would take was one lucky hit and any hope of escape would be shattered. He heard Cain groan and imagined the pain the man must be feeling, but there was nothing he could do about it until they were far, far away.

  Suddenly Smoky Woman yelled something in Ute.

  Looking back, Nate saw Flying Hawk hunched low over their mount and Smoky Woman tugging furiously at her brother’s shoulder. He understood why when her hand appeared clutching a bloody dart. The warrior, his teeth clenched, straightened and kept on coming.

  Just a little further! Nate told himself. Just a little further and
they would be over the crest and safe from the deluge of darts and spears. Only twenty feet to go. Then fifteen. Then ten. He whooped for joy when Pegasus plunged down the other side, then caught himself and looked back at the Utes.

  Brother and sister were hard on his heels.

  Nate smiled broadly. They’d done it! A tingle of excitement at their deliverance coursed through him, only to be tempered by the sight of dark shapes appearing at the top of the rise. The savages were still after them and coming on fast!

  Bending forward, Nate rode for his life and the life of the man strapped to his back. More darts reined down. Flying Hawk’s horse neighed wildly but continued to race pell-mell across the sinister wasteland.

  Soon the darts stopped seeking them. The shapes of the savages evaporated in the gloom.

  Nate was exceptionally alert to the flow of the terrain. A misstep now could cost Pegasus or the other horse a broken leg. So he studied the land ahead with care. Thanks to a sliver of moon he could see well enough to avoid obstacles such as ruts, boulders, and crevices.

  For twenty minutes they rode hard, until Nate was positive they were safe. Then he reined up in a spray of dust and waited for the Utes to catch up. During the flight they had fallen a dozen yards behind, and now, as they drew to a stop alongside him, their horse wheezed and stumbled.

  Smoky Woman was off the animal in a lithe bound. Her brother, wincing, dismounted slowly and stood with a hand pressed to his wounded shoulder.

  Nate was staring aghast at the horse. The poor animal had taken three darts, one in the neck and two in the side. Dark stains caused by copiously flowing blood marked its coat. Additional blood trickled from its flaring nostrils.

  “How Cain?” Smoky Woman asked, stepping up and resting a hand on Solomon’s thigh.

  “Doing fine, near as I can tell,” Nate said. He tugged at the stubborn knot, then impatiently whipped out his butcher knife and sliced the loops in half.

  Cain promptly sagged, his chin touching his chest, and started to fall off. Instantly Smoky Woman braced him with her hands and said, “Help, please!”