“Me?” Lou cried.
Shakespeare chuckled and whispered. “Oh! Did you hear that? Your boy is brilliant. Parry and thrust, parry and thrust, that’s the way to keep them off their guard.”
“Will you shush?”
“How can it be my fault?” Lou protested. “I asked, you said you would, you didn’t. It’s that simple.”
Zach cradled his rifle in his arms and calmly rebutted, “Who was it came up to me while I was stoking the fire and put her arms around me? Who was it nibbled on my ear?”
“He’s wonderful,” Shakespeare whispered to Nate. “Taken the guilt off his shoulders and draped it over hers. See her fidget? Sharp as a tack, that boy. I am proud to be his uncle.”
“He only calls you that,” Nate said irritably. “You are no blood relation whatsoever.”
“That was mean-spirited,” Shakespeare said. “You’re upset because your boy is better at holding his own with females than you are.”
“I can hold my own with Winona, thank you very much.”
“Ha. Quite the jester. She wears you like a ring. You are wrapped around her little finger, hers to command as she pleases.”
Nate frowned. “I will have you know—” he began, forgetting to whisper.
“Quiet, will you?” Shakespeare cut him off. “A second sally is under way and I would rather listen to them.”
“I could just shoot you sometimes.”
Zach placed his hand on Lou’s shoulder and tenderly squeezed. “If I’ve hurt your feelings, I am sorry. But I didn’t do it on purpose. Hurting you is the last thing I would ever do.”
Shakespeare poked Nate again. “Did you hear? A genius at work, I tell you. Of course, that only works early in a marriage. Before all the romance dries up.”
“You haven’t seen a club lying around, have you?”
Lou embraced Zach. “I’m sorry. It’s just that this is so important to me. I want it more than anything, Zachary, and I am grateful you have agreed. It means the world to me.” She pecked his cheek. “Don’t worry about the packing. I’ll take care of it.” Smiling over her shoulder, she went indoors.
Zach stared after her. More than ever, he wished he could recall the talk they had. He tried once more to remember and was only dimly aware that Shakespeare had come over until a brawny hand clapped him on the back.
“Congratulations, pup. Nicely done, if I say so myself.” Shakespeare launched into another quote. “ ‘Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck. Famed be thy tutor.’ ” He grinned. “That would be me.”
Zach regarded him a moment, then his father, who had joined them. “Enough tomfoolery. I really need to know.”
“We have milked it dry, I suppose,” Shakespeare said. “Although if I tried, I could squeeze out a few more drops of humor.”
Nate self-consciously cleared his throat. “Son, Lou is excited because you finally agreed to start the family she has always wanted.”
“I did what?”
“You heard the man,” Shakespeare tittered. “The treasure of your eye and you were riding one day. Apparently she said something about wanting to have a baby and you agreed. Or so my wife says your wife told her.”
Zach took a step back. “Dear God.”
“You had no idea?” Nate asked.
“None,” Zach breathed, astounded by his lapse. “This can’t be. It just can’t be.”
Shakespeare snorted. “You make it sound like she wants you to wrestle a grizz. Making a tyke can be fun. It is the one time women don’t gripe if you want to do it in the middle of the afternoon.”
“People do that?” Nate said.
Zach shook his head. “No, you don’t understand, either of you. I’m not ready to have children.”
“When will you be ready? When you are as old as me?” Shakespeare asked. “Hellfire, boy. Have them while you are young and can keep up with their antics, because when you are my age, the creaking in your joints slows you down considerable.”
“He has a point,” Nate said. “Have your children now rather than ten years from now. Space them a few years apart so they can grow up together. Children need other children.”
“That they do,” Shakespeare agreed. “Not that there is anything wrong with being a solitary, but it helps them get along with others.”
“Aren’t either of you listening?” Zack asked. “I’m not ready to have kids. The notion scares me.”
“You’ll be a fine father,” Nate said.
“Of course you will,” Shakespeare echoed. “You have your father and me as examples.”
“You don’t have children,” Zach reminded him.
Shakespeare’s features clouded. “Blue Water Woman and I came together too late in life for that to be practical.”
“What about with your first wife? The one the Blackfeet killed,” Zach asked. “What was her name again? Rainbow Woman?”
If a man’s countenance could reflect inexpressible sorrow, Shakespeare’s did. “Yes. My first love. They say our first loves are out dearest and truest and that we never forget them.” A sigh was torn from the depths of his soul. “I sure haven’t.”
“Doesn’t Blue Water Woman mind?” Zach wondered. “You caring for Rainbow Woman so much?”
A shiver seemed to pass through McNair, but then he steadied himself and looked up. “How little you know of the female persuasion. Women don’t mind competition if the competition is dead.”
Zach noticed his father giving him a certain look, and quickly said, “It was stupid of me to bring that up. I’m sorry.”
“We can’t hide from our hurts,” Shakespeare said. “Especially the ones that cut to the heart.”
“Was that another quote from Willy S.?” Zach sought to make light of it.
“No, that was me,” Shakespeare responded with a wry grin. “Now and again I have a glimmer.”
Zach turned to his father. “About this baby business, what am I going to do?”
“Have one,” Nate said.
“How many times must I repeat myself? I am not ready.”
“Give us one good reason why.”
“How about a handful? I’m too young. I don’t know the first thing about rearing a child. I have no patience. I have a temper.”
“I was younger than you when I had you,” Nate said. “As for knowing what to do, you learn as you go. Just like you do everything else in life. They call that experience. As for the rest of your objections, they are more akin to quibbles.”
“Look, son,” Shakespeare said. “There isn’t a man been born who hasn’t felt the same fear you are feeling at the thought of bringing new life into the world. It’s a big responsibility, the biggest we have our entire lives, and we are afraid we won’t do it right.”
“You felt the same way? And, Pa, you too?”
Both men nodded.
“I was scared to death when your mother told me she was with child,” Nate admitted. “I spent weeks worrying myself silly. I thought I would be the worst parent who ever drew breath.”
“But you’ve been a fine father,” Zach said.
“My point, exactly,” Nate replied. “We always think we will do worse than we actually do.”
“It’s human nature,” Shakespeare interjected. “Most folks tend to expect the worst and then are pleasantly surprised when everything turns out better than they reckoned it would.”
“I still don’t know,” Zach said uncertainly.
“It’s your decision,” Nate said. “Yours, and Lou’s. You’ve seen how happy she is. Changing your mind will crush her.”
“But I never made up my mind in the first place,” Zach objected. “So it is not like I would be changing it.”
“Either way,” Nate said, “if you tell her no, it will be the same as sticking a knife in her gut.”
“And twisting the knife once it’s in,” Shakespeare added. His voice softened. “Women are contrary critters. But they also have their good qualities. When they love a man, when they give
their heart and soul, they will do anything for him. All they ask in return is that the man respect them and love them and provide some of the niceties of life. That’s not so much to ask for, is it?”
“Children are more than a nicety,” Zach said.
“Children are the glue that holds a good marriage together and the thorns that tear a bad marriage apart,” Shakespeare declared. “In your case they will be more glue than acid.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
Nate and Shakespeare exchanged looks, and McNair said, “An acorn never falls far from the tree. You are a lot like your pa, more than you are maybe willing to admit. You have a lot of your ma in you, too, which I will never embarrass you by mentioning ever again.”
“So you’re saying I have what it takes to be a good parent?”
Shakespeare grinned. “Took the words right out of my mouth. But that’s only part of it.”
“What’s the other part?”
“You love that little gal with all that you are, and you will be the best father you can just to please her.”
Zach walked to the open cabin door. He leaned against the jamb and watched his wife bustle about, getting ready. She was smiling and humming to herself. He had seldom seen her so radiant. Then she stepped to the counter, and a splash of light from the window played over her face. For a few breathless seconds she was the most beautiful sight he ever beheld, so beautiful that he yearned to take her in his arms and smother her lips and cheeks with hot kisses. A warm flush crept over him, and he coughed.
Louisa looked around, beaming. “You have the horses saddled already? My, that was fast.”
“No, I don’t,” Zach said.’
Lou came over. Some of her radiance faded, to be replaced by worry. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to do it. Not after you said you would. I have been looking forward to this so much.”
“Lou—” Zach began.
“Hear me out, please,” Lou said, taking his hands in hers. “I want a baby more than anything. I have nagged you about it, yes, and for that I apologize. But if you could feel how much I want one, if you could look into my heart—”
Zach held up a hand, stopping her. “I already have. Our hearts are entwined forever, remember?”
A tear formed at the corner of Lou’s eye and trickled down her cheek. “Zachary King, that is the sweetest thing you have ever said to me. Does this mean I haven’t been dreaming? That you really and truly want to start a family?”
Zach King gazed into his wife’s blue eyes, into the loveliest eyes in all creation, and with a full understanding of what he was saying and a full appreciation of the consequences, he smiled and said, “Yes.”
Lou squealed for joy and clapped her hands, then threw them around his neck and kissed him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Now go get the horses ready.” She stared lovingly up at him. “You will like where we are going. It is somewhere you have wanted to go since we moved to this valley. It’s the perfect place for us to be alone together.”
“Where would that be?” Zach asked.
Louisa drew him to the doorway and pointed at a white mass on a mountain to the northwest. “The glacier.”
Three
King Valley, as it later became known, was one of the largest in the central Rockies. The valley floor was lush with grass watered by sparkling runoff from on high, runoff that also fed the broad lake that had been there since the dawn of time. Or so the neighboring tribes claimed.
Wildlife was abundant. A legion of deer came to the lake to drink during the night and retreated into the thick timber during the day. Elk did the same. Occasionally, a small herd of shaggy mountain buffalo would venture to the lake but they never stayed long. Unlike their prairie brethren, they preferred shadowy thickets to open spaces. Mountain goats were visible on the rocky crags that surrounded the valley, white specks against a backdrop of brown. After the sun went down, the howls of wolves, the yips of coyotes, and the screech of mountain lions testified to the existence of the many predators seldom seen when the sun was up.
Lesser game was just as plentiful. Long-eared rabbits that bounded off in impossible leaps. Squirrels that chattered irately at anyone and anything that came near the trees they were in. Chipmunks always in dizzying motion, their tails held erect like tiny flags. Higher up were badger burrows. Beaver worked industriously in the fish-filled streams. Raccoons made nightly rounds, as did porcupines and opossums.
Not to be outdone, the avian contingent was well represented. At the top of the bird hierarchy were the bald and the golden eagles. Lords of the air, they soared high on outstretched pinions, ready to swoop down on unsuspecting prey. Hawks patrolled the grassy valley and timbered slopes alike. Owls nested in the cover of the trees while the sun was up and came out once it was down to ask their eternal question. The raucous cries of ravens made the songbirds nervous, for ravens were notorious raiders of both eggs and the chicks that hatched from those eggs. Jays pierced the crisp mountain air with their strident squawks. Splashes of vivid color betrayed the presence of robins, bluebirds, and tanagers.
As prolific as the wildlife was, it could not hold a candle to the plant life. Not one, not two, but several varieties of grass carpeted the valley floor, including the long-stemmed buffalo grass more common lower down. Columbines and daisies grew in profusion during the warm months, only two of over a dozen types of flowers that decorated the wild. Near the lake and along the streams grew oaks and cottonwoods. Groves of aspens transformed into spectacular displays of red and yellow when the weather turned. Spruce were everywhere, heartleaf and calypso not quite as common. Higher up thrived phalanxes of tall firs.
King Valley was a green and blue jewel amid the brown crags and gray cliffs. Paradise, Nate called it, and paradise it was, which made the absence of humans all the more surprising.
Indians shunned the valley. The nearest tribe, the Utes, was vehement in its belief that it was bad medicine but strangely reticent when asked why. The Shoshones and the Crows likewise would not set foot there, although their reasons for avoiding the valley were different from the mysterious reason the Utes would not share. The Flatheads and the Nez Perce lived too far away to include the valley in their annual migrations, but even they said the valley was a place of evil and must be shunned.
Not long ago, four young Crows, not intimidated by the warnings of their elders, had announced they were going to the valley to hunt elk—and were never heard from again.
Nate King respected the tribes’ beliefs but he did not share them. His previous homestead, low in the foothills, had become a stopping point for travelers bound for Oregon Country and other settlers who had followed his example. Enough that Nate had begun to feel crowded. That, and the increasing absence of game, fueled his decision to uproot his family and friends and take them to this new haven deep in the mountains where they could live out the rest of their days amid Nature’s bounty.
There had been difficulties. A grizzly took exception to the intrusion. The brood of a female wolverine had hunted them as they hunted other game. And an unknown tribe to the west had made a few unfriendly forays.
But all in all, life in the new valley was good.
Zach had no objections. Lou liked their new, more spacious cabin. He liked living by the lake. Day after day, they went about their usual routine. They would rise at the first blush of dawn and eat a hearty breakfast. Zach would hunt or fish or chop wood for the fireplace while Lou busied herself with the thousand and one tasks that made their cabin a home. At midday they always took a short break. The afternoons were spent in more work. Twilight signaled the end to their toil. They would eat supper, read or talk awhile, and turn in early. The next day the pattern was repeated.
Zach rarely gave any thought to the talk among the tribes about the bad medicine. He took it for granted, as did his father and McNair, that the bad medicine referred to the hostiles to the west. And since his father had closed the pass to the next valley, the hostiles no longer pose
d a threat. Still...
Hostiles did not explain the sounds that occasionally wafted their way on the night wind. From out of the northwest the sounds came, howls that were not howls and shrieks that were not shrieks. Ululating cries such as Zach had never heard. Nor his father. Nor McNair. They would hear the eerie cries and stop whatever they were doing to listen, racking their brains for an explanation.
Zach, in particular, was fascinated by the cries. It had to be an animal, but what kind? It wasn’t a wolf or a coyote or a cougar. Bears were incapable of making such sounds. In his more fanciful musings, Zach imagined it to be some new animal awaiting discovery.
Zach could not establish what it was, but he did establish one fact: The cries came from the vicinity of the glacier. Which tied in with the Ute taboo. The Utes would never say exactly why the valley was bad medicine, but they had let it slip that it had something to do with the glacier.
To complicate matters, on some nights the sounds were different than on others. On some nights, from the rising of the moon until the rising of the sun, the valley’s peace was shattered by unceasing roars that cowed every creature which heard them. Strangely enough, to Zach it did not seem as if the roars came from the same throat that gave voice to the howls and shrieks. It was almost enough to make him think there were two ‘somethings’ up there, but that was absurd.
The matter was very much on his mind as Zach and Louisa forked leather and prepared to ride off. Zach held the lead rope to their packhorse. His Hawken was slung across his back. “We are going,” he said, which was a silly statement since his father and Shakespeare could plainly see they were ready.
“Take care up there,” McNair urged. “Keep your eyes skinned and your powder dry.”
Nate smiled at Lou. “Don’t you worry about your plants. Winona has promised to water them. And I’ll take care of your chickens and the pigs.”
“Thank you. The sow is due soon. Watch her. She bites sometimes.” Louisa smiled and gestured at the ring of towering peaks. “I am in heaven. We haven’t had much time to ourselves since we moved here.”
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