by Mez Blume
“Lookin’ fer sommat?” belched a burly guard with an underbite that reminded me of a bulldog.
“Oh!” I tried to appear startled, as if I’d drifted towards the prison unawares. “I … um … just wondered what was inside this little building?”
The burly man spat on the ground. “Ain’t nothin’ but outlaw scum inside o’ thar.”
I widened my eyes, trying to fake interest. “Really? What kind of outlaws? Any Indians?”
The man’s already grumpy face turned into an outright scowl. “Don’t see as it’s any o’ yer business.” As if to make quite clear he’d had enough of my questions, he snorted and spat out a huge ball of phlegm in the dirt at my feet before turning away.
I stumbled backwards to avoid the spit and bumped against someone. Spinning around, I looked up into the fierce face of the Governor’s housekeeper.
This is it, I thought. I’d blown it. The housekeeper was sure to recognise me from the day before. Did she know the Governor was looking for me? Either way, she’d tell him I was snooping around the Garrison and that would be the end of it.
“You must be one of the new girls,” she snapped. “Dreaming and dawdling when there’s a heap of work to be done.” And with that, she pinched my shoulder and marched me right up the mansion steps and into the front door. She released my shoulder inside the foyer. “I catch you taking your sweet time again and I’ll dock your wages, you hear?” she scolded just before turning on her heels and marching down a hallway so that I was left standing there with my basket of linens and giggling maids bustling back and forth around me.
As relieved as I was that the housekeeper had not recognised me and turned me in to the Governor, this was no time for catching the breath I’d lost in my terror a moment earlier. I was standing in the middle of my enemy’s front doorway with a decision to make.
My instincts told me to turn around and run, run as fast as I could away from that perilous place. But then what? I’d be alone again in the woods, no closer to helping Wattie or Imogen.
You call yourself a detective, Katie, a braver voice in my head reminded me. And detectives don’t run from danger; they walk straight into it. That’s how they stop criminals: by spying on them, not by hiding from them.
I knew that voice was right. It was the voice that had coached me to ride Vagabond through the church doors to Sophia’s rescue last summer. That memory filled me with a reckless energy, and without another thought, I dumped my basket of laundry behind a pedestal with a bust on it and made straight for the long corridor with the Governor’s office at the end of it. Nothing was going to stop me now. My feet, silent on the long hall rug, carried me steadily to the Governor’s door and didn’t stop until I reached it. It was ajar. Holding my breath, I leaned my ear close to the open door when a voice spoke out from inside the room.
It was the Governor’s voice, but not even a hint of jolliness remained to warm it. Now it was cold, biting, as if he was speaking a curse. “Joseph McKay has been a thorn in my side for too long now. There’s simply no competing with the man. He always makes a case for the Cherokee in Washington. Fought with the President at Horseshoe Bend, you know, and now he can do no wrong. The Indians regard him as one of their own, as they did Jim Weaver before I removed him. The McKays have to be crushed.” He paused. I clamped a hand over my mouth, afraid they had heard the gasp I had let escape.
But a moment later, Blunt continued his tirade. “I can’t have them getting in the way of the treaty with Black Fox. And speaking of that savage man, you must be more careful. Those children told me they saw you conspiring with him.”
“They’re harmless—” It was Lovegood who spoke, but the Governor cut him off.
“They are not harmless, Lieutenant. If Nickajack found out about that treaty, everything we’ve worked for could be ruined.”
“I thought everyone to be at their little powwow, or I would not have—”
“Well it turns out those two wretched little girls were not, were they, Lieutenant? Have you found them both?”
“Jed’s men have one of them. We’re still searching for the red-headed one. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Let’s hope you’re right, Lieutenant.” Blunt’s voice was venomous. “I don’t have time for mistakes.”
“What are your orders, sir, when I find the girl? Prison?”
“I told you before. We don’t know who these girls are or what their connection with the McKays is, but they’ve seen too much. They suspect the conspiracy between Black Fox and yourself. As I haven’t any warrant for locking up children, just make certain that the red-haired one, like her cousin, ends up somewhere far away where she can’t pose any problems to the plan. I trust tracking down a little girl won’t prove too arduous a task for you, Lieutenant. Now if you’d do your job and allow me to get back to mine …”
“Good day, sir.”
My heart sprang into my throat as heavy boot steps approached the door. Scuffling to the next closest door down the corridor, I prayed, please be open. Please be open. I laid my hand on the knob. It turned! I fell inside and closed myself in just as I heard the Governor’s door swing wide open on its hinges. Then I held my breath. The Lieutenant’s steps sounded hesitant for a brief moment that felt like an eternity. But then his boot steps retreated down the hall. It was music to my ears, but there was no time to bask in relief. I had to get out.
There was a picture window behind a desk on the far wall, like the one in the Governor’s office. I tiptoed across the floor, threw back the sash and brushed aside the papers on the desk before climbing on top. With one knee already up, I stopped. My hand was resting on a map. I recognised it immediately as the map of Cherokee Country Wattie and the others had used to chart out our journey from Nickajack to Hiwassee. But there was something definitely different about this copy. I traced down the Tennessee River with my finger until it pointed at the spot I was sure was Nickajack. But this map didn’t say Nickajack at all. What should have been Nickajack was labelled in bold black letters: Blunts Town.
I heard a movement in the Governor’s office next door. In a flash of panic, I hastily rolled up the map and stuffed it under my arm. Then, with both knees on the desk, I heaved the window open, swung my legs through and dropped to the ground.
25
Outlaw
I braced my hands on my knees, allowing myself just a couple of deep breaths. I wasn’t safe yet, but at least here on the backside of the Governor’s mansion, no one was coming and going. But someone might spot me from a window at any moment. With that thought in mind, I pressed my back against the wall and looked around for my next way of escape.
There was only a narrow pathway between the building and the outer wall of the Garrison. If only I could climb it, I thought. But the logs were tall as trees and spiked at the top. There was no chance.
I heard what I thought was a faint snorting sound away to my left. Of course! The stables were just on the other side of the building. Maybe I’d be able to sneak behind them without anyone noticing and climb into another cart. It wasn’t much of a plan, but I had to do something other than stand there right under the Governor’s nose.
I crept along, keeping close to the wall, rounded the corner and could’ve jumped for joy. Behind the stables, cut out of the wall, was a corral door! And what was more, it was open to allow some of the horses out for grazing, the afternoon sun spilling through. I was no more than ten or so yards from freedom!
Squatting low but moving fast, I scampered and ducked behind a horse’s stall, inched along and peeked around. I could hear men’s voices down at the other end of the stable, but the coast seemed clear. With a deep breath, I sprinted towards the fence ready to hurdle it, but skidded into it instead. There, tethered to a watering trough was a tall, sinewy grey horse with a silvery mane. Lovegood’s horse. He had lifted his head to watch me out of one startlingly blue eye.
“You deserve a better master,” I said, holding out my palm to the horse’s p
robing nostrils. I touched his nose, and an idea rushed through me like an electric shock. It was more a feeling than a thought, a surge of complete recklessness all the way down to my toes. I’d escaped the guards, taken the Governor’s map, jumped out the window. What was stopping me from riding off on Lovegood’s horse? I was a fugitive. What did I have to lose? Ok, I had a lot to lose, starting with my freedom if I got caught and thrown into prison. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but getting out of that Garrison crawling with enemies.
With a wave of giddiness, I untethered the reins, stuffed the map into the saddle bag, and hoisted myself up onto his back. He didn’t seem to question what was going on, but answered immediately to my lead. I trotted him to the back of the corral. We turned, then I whispered, Now!
With a lunge, we careened forward towards the fence. It was a big jump, but this was no time for caution. I leaned in close as his front legs left the ground. For a moment, I felt completely weightless. Then his hooves hit the ground, and we were galloping again.
“Hey! Come back here!”
I heard the shouts, but I didn’t look back. I had to reach the river, and then … I knew exactly where I had to go. It had come to me when the Governor mentioned his name: Jim Weaver. Raccoon Mountain was just a few miles south. Old Grizzly was my only hope.
If any thoughts entered my mind on that long ride, I can’t recall a single one of them. I focused on the path ahead as if my life depended on it. The path along the river soon narrowed. The further we went, the steeper the bank became until mountains rose up on either side.
The stallion was well trained and never once reared back when I led him over rocky shoals or even down into the water where the river rapids sometimes beat against his legs. I could tell he was as glad as I was when at last we’d hit a patch of sandy bank where we could pick up speed a little. Every second that passed felt precious, and I had no idea just how many were passing. It might have been an hour. It might as well have been days. My stomach felt hollow, my mind was getting numb and my backside was sorer than ever.
I was just beginning to feel I would have to slide off and rest when I recognised the flat shoals and little pools where Imogen had met the mud puppy. I’d made it! I could’ve cried with happiness and exhaustion.
The horse could take me as far as the lookout. Then I’d climb the rest of the way on my own.
“Go on, get a good drink,” I told the horse, leading him to the water and patting his sweaty neck as he lowered his head. It should have been a peaceful moment’s rest after such a wearing journey, but something made me tense up, the hair standing up on the back of my arms. The sun was still out— I wasn’t cold. You’re just tired and hungry I reassured myself. But it wasn’t just me. The birds even seemed unsettled. A blue jay swooped down and landed in the branches overhead, screeching like an alarm bell. The stallion sensed it too. He lifted his head from the water, his eyes wide, nostrils sniffing the air.
My pulse thumped in my ear. Something … or someone was watching.
I clicked to get the horse moving, then turned back up the bank. A minute up the trail, the river was out of view, which meant that we were out of view of whatever hidden creature had been lurking there. Yet the eerie feeling of being watched didn’t go away.
The mountain’s tall, flat rock face rose straight up on my right, like a fortress wall. Wondering how far we had to go before we reached the lookout, I craned my head back to look up. My eyes met with the predator-like stare of Black Fox. He was crouched low on a rock outcrop above, like a wildcat about to spring on its prey. His black hair hung like a curtain of camouflage on either side of his face so that his eyes stood out, glowing with a ravenous light. Then his eyes narrowed into a savage smile. The predator had his victim cornered.
Or so he thought.
“YA!” I dug my legs into the horse’s side, and he shot off like an arrow. The climb became steeper, but I urged him forward with every muscle in my body, depending totally on his sure footing. As he made a sharp turn around a bend, I threw a frantic glance over the rocks and boulders for any sign of Black Fox. Meanwhile, the horse reared up with a scream. I screamed too and clung on for dear life as his hooves slid and scuttled on the narrow ledge. Then I saw what had frightened him.
Black Fox dropped down onto the path right in front of us, baring his teeth. I surged forward to bowl right through him, but he was too quick. He leaped to one side, threw out his arm and grabbed the horse’s reins, wrapping them once, twice, three times around his boulder of a fist, nearly unseating me. I yelled and snatched up fistfuls of mane. The horse jerked its head, trying to pull free from Black Fox’s grip and roaring with frustration. Then, with that raving smile, Black Fox used his other hand to pull the tomahawk from the strap across his bare chest.
The sight of the blade glinting in the sunlight sent an electric shock up my spine. There was a flash of a moment when we met each other’s eyes, and I knew he was going to kill the horse to get to me. Without a second thought, I flung myself off the horse. My forehead smacked hard against a tree limb, and I landed hard on my knees. The world spun, but I scrambled to my feet. I had to keep moving. I was running up hill, pushing off jagged rocks and stumbling over roots, my every muscle heaving me upwards, never daring to look behind me where I knew Black Fox would be gaining like a wolf outrunning a mouse. I could hear his steady breathing, the pounding of his moccasined feet getting closer.
As I turned sharply around a boulder, I threw myself into the undergrowth and crawled on my elbows and knees under a thorny shrub. Sitting back on my heels, I slung my quiver around to my front and jabbed the blowgun between my knees. I had only seconds to get this right. I had to concentrate. I took a dart and put it between my teeth. Then I reached into the quiver, found the vial of snake’s venom and uncorked it. Hands shaking, I plunged the dart’s tip in. Black Fox’s heavy pants were audible just around the bend. With a thrill of terror, I stuffed the dart into the blowgun, put the pipe to my lips and drew in a deep breath, just as my hunter’s feet came into view. He stopped at the bend and appeared to be squinting up the path, listening.
I froze, my breath held and my chest on fire. If he would just take one step further up the path, I might have a chance of hitting him. But instead, in a horrific instant Black Fox turned and looked directly at my hiding place. His hate-filled eyes narrowed on mine just before he lunged. I didn’t think. I just blew with all that was in me, then squeezed my eyes shut.
A heavy thud on the ground made me open my eyes. Black Fox was on his knees, hardly more than an arm’s length from my hiding place, one hand gripping his neck where my dart had struck. He ripped out the dart, looked at it, then his eyes rolled up and he fell, face down, his silver earring swinging from his ear.
I stared at the fallen giant in shock. But he was only knocked out. I had to get out of there. Had to reach the top of that mountain. Still shaking, I fixed my quiver to my back before crawling out from under the bush, careful to skirt around Black Fox.
I don’t remember running up the trail. My mind was so numbed from my narrow escape, I didn’t feel the ache in my legs or notice the pain from the steadily bleeding cut in my forehead. As if transported by magic, I found myself standing on the porch of Old Grizzly’s cabin, hand lifted to knock. But I didn’t have to. The door opened all on its own. The last thing I saw were a man’s dark grey eyes. They were not full of hatred like Black Fox’s, but full of worry.
26
In the Grizzly's Den
When did I fall asleep in the forest? was the first groggy thought to form in my throbbing head. The pain was so strong that I had to be really awake, but all I could see looked like a hazy dreamland. I rubbed my eyes and blinked. I wasn’t in the forest at all. I was in a bed, in a cabin, staring up at wooden rafters. Tree branches laced with autumn leaves were hung like a canopy from the ceiling. There was a giant papery bee hive suspended right over my head.
I tried to hoist myself up on one elbow,
but the pain through the left side of my forehead blinded me. I gasped and fell back, my hand automatically bracing the side of my head. It was bandaged.
Soft footsteps came near. I felt a cool hand on my burning forehead. I blinked until my sight came back and saw, in the dim light, Ka-Ti’s kind and beautiful face smiling back, but her eyes were full of concern.
My mouth opened, but my throat was so dry that no words would come out. It went dryer still when Ka-Ti rushed away. Next thing I knew, I heard the floorboards creak as the mountain man lumbered over to the bed and stood towering over me. He still wore a scowl, but something was different. He looked much more human than grizzly now with his long, dishevelled strands of greying hair and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Ka-Ti was holding one of his massive forearms and smiling from him to me.
The mountain man lifted one of his huge hands and patted his daughter on the head, then walked around the bed and creakily sat down in a wooden chair. We eyed each other for a moment. At last he gave a sniff and started talking.
“So, girl. How’d you wind up back at my door in such a sad state? I thought you were with Will McKay. Ain’t he lookin’ after you?”
I shook my head, then winced from the movement. Why did it hurt so bad again? I had a vague memory of hitting it … when I jumped off the horse. “Horse!” I tried to sit up and saw stars from the pain.
Ka-Ti laid her hand on my shoulder and pushed me gently back.
“Your horse is safe. After you turned up, I went out scoutin’ to try and figure out what’d happened to you. I found your horse at the lookout and took him down to the valley on the other side of the mountain. He’s happy as a lark, grazin’ with our own horses.”
“He’s not really my horse,” I mumbled, lying back down. Ka-Ti exchanged a look with her father.