Nomad Omnibus 01_A Kurtherian Gambit Series

by Craig Martelle

  The wolf pack, despite eating their fill, was starting to grow lean. Their bodies were hard and their nails had been ground down with the constant drive against the ground. Wolves and horses forcing their way through the world that Mother Nature created for them.

  They didn’t have to deal with another dust storm, but the rains came, repeatedly. They forged ahead, losing speed because of wet footing, making up time when it dried out, which it did quickly after the rains. The river turned to mud for a day, then cleared up, running clean once again.

  They marveled at the volume of water that flowed down the Missouri River. They found themselves trapped on the north side, when they thought the trail would be easier to the south, but kept going hoping to find an intact bridge.

  As they rode, Char’s ears perked up.

  “People,” she said. “A lot of people.”

  “Where?” Terry asked, looking around. Timmons and Ted were both sitting tall in the saddle and looking across the river.

  Terry raised a fist to signal a halt. A couple people wearing deerskins were fishing along the river, watching the group on horseback.

  “Watahey!” Terry yelled, waving. The two on the other side of the river waved back. “Have you eaten?” he bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth.

  “What?” Char asked.

  “It’s a native custom, a respectful greeting. We’re passing along the edge of a reservation, and I think we’ve come across a tribe, one that flourished once the white man’s influence disappeared,” Terry said, continuing to wave.

  He cupped his hands around his mouth. “We’ll be right there!” he yelled, followed by pointing forward with the flat of his hand, then making a slashing motion across the river, then pointing back to the two people on the other side.

  They exaggerated their nods and waved back before collecting their things and climbing the river bank.

  “I hope there’s a bridge not too far away,” Terry said.

  “You know that hope is a lousy plan, right?” Char replied.

  “Hope is better than the alternative, which is swimming our happy asses across that monster.” Terry pointed to the river.

  “Not going to do that, so I’ll hope right along with you, but you know that there’s supposed to be a bridge up ahead, don’t you?” Terry nodded with a smile. “What you really mean is that you hope the bridge is still intact?”

  “Indeed, lover, indeed.”

  And it was. Ten miles farther up the road, they found the bridge. Terry decided that he wouldn’t drive a semi across it, but was more than willing to take the horses as long as they stayed single file. The wolves were skeptical, but after Ted’s cajoling, they braved it and ran across as if they were on fire.

  “What do they know that we don’t know?” Terry asked.

  “I can’t imagine,” Ted answered. He shrugged and rode ahead.

  “Don’t think I didn’t see you bristle when I introduced you as my wife,” Terry started. Char’s gaze turned cold. “I was thinking of other words to use. What do you think of my old lady? Or maybe my better half? How about the wife? Main squeeze? My woman?”

  “Why am I not beating the shit out of you right now?” Char replied. “My man? My portable pole dancer? My chunk of man candy? The husbone?’ Or maybe just dick? Hi, this is Dick.”

  “Dick Gozinya. I might have used that once. In a bar. I don’t recommend it.” Terry laughed. “Where in the hell were those creepy people coming from and where in the hell were they going?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that since we left Sheridan, and I have no idea. Were they ghosts?”

  Terry shook his head. “They were real alright. I hope we don’t find them when we return, they made my skin crawl.”

  “Me, too.”

  They urged the horses into a trot. Terry didn’t have to say anything to Ted about keeping the wolf pack under control. James, Lacy, and Gerry rode in the back, in an inverted V to protect the flanks and rear of their small formation. Timmons rode behind Terry and Char, watching and listening. Ted was out front and to the side as the pack loped along.

  They slowed to a walk when they saw the greeting party waiting for them. Terry stopped the group and ordered everyone to dismount. They walked ahead, leading their horses. Ted remained behind with the wolf pack, leading them to the river for a drink and maybe fishing if they found shallows.

  “Greetings. I hope that we can call you friends,” Terry said softly, respectfully.

  An old man wearing the feathers of a chief stood. A buffalo hide was draped over his shoulders. Terry thought that man looked like something out of a museum. Two older men, possibly the chief’s sons, stood to either side of him. A young boy, maybe thirteen years old, stood tall, jaw set as he tried to prove to the others that he was ready to be a man.

  “My hope as well, stranger,” the old man spoke slowly. “You travel with wolves.”

  Terry didn’t know if it was a question or not. He didn’t reply. After a brief period of silence, the old man continued, “And more.”

  He waved Timmons forward and looked closely at him. Then he looked at Char, getting close enough to reach out an aged, wrinkled hand to hold her cheek. Char responded in kind, cradling the old man’s cheek in her gracefully long fingers.

  The silence stretched much longer this time. Terry was never a man to be one with the earth, but he didn’t discredit those who were. The silence helped them remain better in tune with their surroundings.

  So they all waited. James, Lacy, and Gerry were the least patient and shifted uncomfortably.

  “Mother Earth blesses those who respect her,” the old man croaked, taking his hand from Char’s cheek.

  “Have you eaten?” Terry asked.

  “Yes, we have, and thank you,” the chief replied. “What brings you to this land?”

  Terry looked at Char and tipped his chin for her to go ahead. The chief and Char had bonded in some way. And the Werewolves were the oldest of the group. Even with Terry’s real age, he expected the chief was still older.

  “We have come from the mountains of Colorado as we seek a new home.” Char decided that the absolute truth was important. She didn’t know what the old man could feel, but didn’t want to tempt fate. “The heat has become oppressive and our lives there untenable should we try to remain. Mother Earth is reclaiming her own. We only wish to live in peace and harmony with her, so north we go, to Minnesota and then to the great lake, Lake Michigan, and the north side of Chicago where we expect to find the infrastructure to rebuild.”

  “The earth is kind to those who see,” the chief said mysteriously. “But not all her children were meant to live this way. Join us for a meal and then pray continue on your way. You have a great purpose, as chief of your people. I wish you luck in finding what you are looking for.” He turned abruptly. The men caught him and helped him shuffle away. Terry waved at Gerry to let Ted know that he should follow them.

  Over a small rise was a depression in which huts and teepees were arrayed across a large area.

  “Hundreds you said?” Terry reiterated with Char.

  “Hundreds.” They watched as people emerged and lined up to welcome the chief home and with his blessing, they greeted the newcomers. Ted jogged to catch up with the wolf pack running close by. Gasps of surprise came from those closest as the pack approached. Ted took them to the side and made them lay down. A few children approached and he smiled and waved them to him. He introduced them one by one to the wolves, then let them pet the creatures. More children arrived until Ted was surrounded by a sea of little people.

  Terry asked Timmons to help, as well as waving James and Lacy to join Ted. Gerry stayed with the horses, tying them to a post that seemed to be for that purpose. Droppings in the area suggested that the natives had their own horses.

  A few from the tribe joined Gerry to see the horses. Terry hoped that the name he’d given him, Geronimo, didn’t offend anyone.

  Terry and Char were shown to sit by a fire
where a chicken cooked.

  The old man sat carefully and seemed to study Terry.

  “I’m Terry Henry Walton and this is Charumati. Are you Cheyenne?” Terry asked.

  “Some Cheyenne, some Crow, some others. During the darkening, too many people died. We came together for our survival, so that we all may live and protect Mother Earth from those who would do her harm. She continues to rage, but soon, she’ll settle. Not in my lifetime, mind you, but soon.” The old man sat quietly and continued to study Terry, before taking a deep breath and turning to Char.

  “Your way ahead is not without danger, but you will persevere. Leave Mother Earth in peace, and she shall do the same for you.” Then the old man closed his eyes and mumbled in prayer. Those around him took a knee and placed their hands on the ground.

  Terry and Char did the same thing as they waited. The smell of lunch made Terry’s mouth water. He’d eaten a great deal of fish lately. The wolves never left a rabbit, or grouse, or any kind of small game.

  The laughing and yelling interrupted the prayer. The old man stopped mumbling and looked up patiently to watch the tribe’s children running around in circles, playing tag with the wolf pack.

  “Never in all my years have I seen anything like that. But you are different. Wolves are friends to you, are they not?” the old man asked pointedly.

  “They are, and we to them,” Char replied barely above a whisper.

  The chief nodded over his shoulder and a woman almost as old as he was pulled the chicken into a pan, shredded it quickly using a couple knives, added chopped greens, and put it back over the fire, tossing the mix using a deft flick of her wrist.

  She poured a little into a number of different bowls and passed them around. She gave the first bowl to Char, who accepted it, but turned and gave it to the chief. The elders were always to be treated with deference and respect. In Terry’s world, the leaders ate last, but that didn’t apply here. The elders earned the right to eat first after they’d given their best days to the tribe. For the chief, those days were far in the past.

  Terry wanted to believe that his best days were ahead. He and Char held hands while they ate, both chewing slowly to savor the taste of the humble meal. When they finished, they thanked the chief and his tribe for their hospitality.

  “We have one parting gift that we hope you accept.” The chief smiled, waiting for an answer.

  “Of course we’ll accept your gift,” Terry interjected, and Char nodded, smiling pleasantly while gripping Terry’s arm tightly.

  Oh, fuck, he thought. His partner’s instincts were better than his own, and he suspected he’d just screwed up.

  The old woman entered the small hut that the chief called home, and dragged a young woman who couldn’t have been older than sixteen outside. Her hands were bound, her hair flying about wildly as she hissed and spat.

  “My granddaughter. She’s a free spirit, you see, loves the horses and loves adventure. She is a perfect match for your horse master. We offer her hand in marriage to him.” They couldn’t tell if the old man was chuckling or not as he spoke. Terry’s money was on the chief having a great laugh at their expense.

  “We graciously accept her as one of our own, but our customs are that she is free to decide her own fate. We will guarantee her safety and shelter. We will treat her as our family as I would my own daughter,” Terry said, choking on the last part.

  “Her name is Kiwidinok, which means ‘of the wind,’ in our language,” his eyes sparkled. “Appropriate, don’t you think?” he asked.

  “I can’t say,” Terry backpedaled. “With us, she will be free to be who she was meant to be.”

  They untied her hands, making sure to stay out of reach when the deed was done. The young girl stood, muscles tensed as if she were going to bolt. She pointed her toes toward the river and as if shot out of a cannon, she was off.

  But she only made it two steps before Char caught her arm and pulled her back. The girl swung an open hand at Char’s face. She caught the hand and lifted the girl up so they were eye to eye. The Werewolf’s glare wore her down, and the young girl relaxed.

  “You’re going to introduce yourself to Geronimo, the young man tending our horses, and you will ride with him. You will learn everything he knows about horses. You will learn everything the wolf pack knows about hunting. And you will act like a decent human being. Do you understand me?” Char growled into Kiwidinok’s face.

  She put the girl down. “Go,” she commanded and the girl ran in a straight line toward the horses.

  “We thank you very much for your courtesy and hospitality. We will see you again.” Char held up one hand. “Peace.”

  They walked away together. Terry held Char’s hand, but he could feel the tension.

  “Am I going to get my ass chewed?” he asked. She didn’t reply. “You did great back there. You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”

  Char finally stopped walking. Ted, Timmons, James, and Lacy were talking with the children as they separated the wolf pack and sent them on their way out of the village. As the pack ran, the new friends waved goodbye.

  She spoke, “Main squeeze? I really ought to kick your ass for just thinking thoughts like that…”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  Billy sat at the table, listening to the reports from each of the farmers on what they’d need to take and how much room was available in their carts. Sue documented everything to build a long list, make sure that they didn’t duplicate one thing while failing to bring something else.

  The mayor listened attentively but he wasn’t completely in the game. He didn’t want to admit that he’d never killed a man before. And when he finally did the deed, drive a man to his death, it was one he used to call his friend. He always had someone like John to do his dirty work.

  It didn’t make him any less guilty or his hands any cleaner. He thought he’d left that life behind when Terry Henry Walton arrived.

  Maybe not. The fire burned within. His patience was minimal. Why had he snapped? They were just words, an old man’s fixation on one thing that in the end, there would have been no room in the carts. They could have held him off until that point when he realized the futility of his demands.

  Felicity thanked the farmers for stopping by and reporting on their status. Sue gave them the thumbs up to show she had everything she needed for the exodus plan.

  Felicity walked them out, then casually shut the door. She returned to the office and asked Sue if she would take Marcie so Felicity and Billy could have a real talk, like adults.

  Sue wasn’t sure what that meant, but it wasn’t just anyone who would hand their baby to a Werewolf who considered a coonhound to be her best friend.

  After Sue, Marcie, and Clyde went outside, Felicity unbuttoned her shirt, letting it hang open as she slowly approached Billy. He wouldn’t look at her. She straddled his lap and sat facing him. “Billy dear, get your head out of your ass, do you hear me? I need the old Billy to come back, be a father to our daughter, be the leader of this town, be my lover.”

  Billy looked at her, narrowing his eyes. “You said you hated the old Billy. What you saw? That was the real Billy.”

  “That is some serious bullshit, Billy dear,” Felicity drawled. “The man backed you into a corner, gave you no option, and still you didn’t strike him. You didn’t order anyone to beat him. You pushed him away. That’s kind of candy ass for a bad man, don’t you think?”

  Billy tried to think back, but he’d been so angry, the images in his mind’s eye were blurred. He hadn’t punched the man. He hadn’t used a weapon. Maybe Billy was a candy ass, or more likely, maybe Billy had become more civilized.

  Felicity removed her shirt. Billy had to look, her skin was soft and smooth. “It’s so hot in here,” she said as she started to unbutton his shirt. He stayed her hand.

  “Terry called you the power behind the throne. What do you think he meant by that?” Billy asked, his mind clear for the first time since the death of the eng
ineer.

  “I’m sure that I don’t know.” Felicity leaned back, sucking her stomach in and pushing her chest out.

  “The one who makes the man great. Am I a great man?”

  “You are to me, Billy,” Felicity replied. “And these people count on you. Look at the people who were just here to see you. They came to see you and tell you that they understood that we have to move. If what we heard was correct, they were less than enamored by the idea when they first heard it. But you’ve convinced them of its necessity. Because you’ve sold it to them. You’ve gotten people to buy in to your vision. It’s what good leaders do.”

  Billy felt the surge of pride within. From bringing power back to sharing food to make sure that no one went hungry, he’d taken care of the people.

  Billy Spires. A true leader.

  “We’ll start that restaurant when we get where we’re going,” Billy told Felicity as he buried his face in her neck. He lifted her and set her on the table as he started to undress.

  She bit her lip in anticipation.

  ***

  They ran the horses away from the native village and back toward the bridge, but decided to stay on the southern side of the river. In North Dakota, the Missouri River swung far to the north, and if they could, they would cut straight across, saving themselves a hundred miles, as long as it wasn’t one hundred miles of waste that they had to cross.

  Kiwi, as they called her, rode behind Gerry. She was smaller than he was which made them a good pair to ride double. James and Lacy constantly giggled watching how uncomfortable the two were together.

  Terry and Char agreed to not share the information that she was given to Gerry as his bride.

  Until she opened up to them, Kiwi would remain an enigma, but to Terry, it was business as usual.

  Why not? They had a wolf pack running with them. He thought it odd that they’d be given a person, but not strange that it happened to him. Everything different came his way.