More demanding was the need to keep The Animal content, but that, too, Zach knew how to handle. The woman he had chosen for The Animal was still within reach. Most might now consider her a white woman, but Sheene knew that once exposed to Injun ways, a female was never again white in heart.
The real trick would be to get her away without tracks leading to the Sheenes, and that planning required long deliberation and serious effort.
The Animal returned, and he brought with him more profit in goods and coins than the Sheenes could have expected from a full season of Indian trading. Old Zach was heartened, and he measured in his mind how long they might expect to work The Animal before a serious hunt for whoever was killing would develop and they would have to kill him . . . or perhaps they could ship him west, way west, until he could again prove useful.
In his musing, Zach pondered the possibility that the family could again take up The Animal’s trade after the man-beast had been destroyed, but even in his dreams, the father knew that the other Sheenes, including himself, lacked the coldness of soul to repeatedly kill without reservation.
The Animal? For him there was no hesitation, but before too long the twisted son’s attention could wander, and without explanation he might disappear. Forever? It could happen, and the possible loss of profit made Zach Sheene’s teeth ache.
First, they would take the girl. The scheme would be clever, and no search parties would come their way. They would present the woman to The Animal in a favored camp that was not too many marches distant, and once the beast had broken her spirit, they would move to the new place where a proper trading post would be raised, and the Sheenes would don the garb and demeanor of honest tradesmen who would find seeking Indian trade beneath their requirements.
The place Zach Sheene had chosen for their business was far enough from civilization to allow necessary freedoms but near enough for handy resupply and a spot where trails and canoe passages crossed and mingled.
The Juniata River met the much broader Susquehanna at a point called Duncan's Island. The very point itself appeared to Sheene to be the perfect spot. Their buildings would be seen by all passing up or down river, and those fording or canoeing could hardly pass without at least examining the Sheene wares.
A small community called Baskinsville was developing on the Susquehana's west bank, and whatever was offered there might also draw visitors.
Of course, the land was already owned by a family named Huling, but Sheene gave them little notice. Before he approached the Hulings, The Animal would have so leaned the family that they would willingly depart their unfortunate land choice.
If they did not succumb, well . . . Those necessary would mysteriously disappear. All of this would be accomplished because The Animal had, at Zach's advice, modified his original body disposal methods.
The Mississippi was bordered by swamps too vast for measuring, but eastern rivers were edged by high and hard ground. Bodies could not be conveniently sunk into muck, and the curious might wonder at graves dug in desolate places, but Zach Sheene remembered how the Iroquois had hidden their dead during the terrible wars of an earlier generation.
To hide their many dead, warrior bands had raised the bodies high in thickly limbed evergreen trees and wrapped them securely so that as they decayed bits and pieces would not fall to the ground. There were still bodies in trees, and wrapped in deer hides, they remained in place to be occasionally noted by long hunters but were rarely disturbed.
When the time came, and it would be very soon, a few of the Hulings would be delivered to such burials, and some months later the Sheenes, men of consequence with money to invest, would purchase the tip of Duncan's Island. They would utilize the old Huling home now in place, but they would also raise a substantial trading building where night fires would encourage distant travelers to pause as they passed.
Zach chuckled often at how smoothly it could all work. From those who stopped, he would select particular targets for The Animal's attention. The man-beast would strike only when the victims were many marches beyond the Sheene post so that no connections could be made. Sheene would choose only rarely and with great selectivity making certain the profit was worthwhile and that no undesirable patterns appeared.
He might, for instance, have The Animal labor on one river until questioning became pointed. Then he would move their killer to the other river, or for short forays into more settled and more rewarding areas east of Fort Hunter and Harris's Ferry.
Always, Zach Sheene's pistol would be ready, and if it became necessary—more correctly when it became necessary—he would place a ball behind The Animal's ear and eliminate the Sheene's connection to the terrible murders committed by parties unknown.
There was, of course, the single obstacle to all of Zach Sheene's scheming.
All of the land and water Sheene planned on using lay within the reach of Rob Shatto. Quehana's long arm could touch their Duncan's Island trading post in a single day, and some of The Animal's killing could be within the hills that Shatto considered his hunting grounds. New bodies in trees would not go unremarked by Quehana, and no trails or passings could long be hidden from the frontiersman's eye.
Zach Sheene could curse the presence of Rob Shatto, and he had ever since the long hunter's elbow had flattened his son's face, but hating would not be an answer. Fortunately, the perfect weapon that was making all other things possible would also do for the great Quehana.
As soon as the girl was taken and delivered to The Animal, Zach would turn the newly bound beast onto their worst enemy. Zach would carefully warn The Animal that this killing would require all of his cunning.
Shatto was more dangerous than a war party, but no human could stand against The Animal's ferocity and brutal physical power. Even old Zach shuddered when he thought about the terrible strength The Animal regularly demonstrated. The man-beast's abnormally long arms were sometimes used to support his body when he stood, and although he never became completely upright, the great shoulders, so much wider than a man's, were even with Zach Sheene's eyes.
There was special intelligence behind the strangely glittery eyes that seemed tiny beneath overhung brows, and Sheene saw its existence in the clever knots The Animal devised to tie his victims to trees and in skills such as always striking from downwind to avoid his powerful scent reaching his intended target.
It was Sheene's belief that with passing seasons, his son became ever more animal and less human. Once, the beast-child had wished to sleep among his brothers, but now he rarely left the timber. He possessed only a single blanket and only occasionally cooked or raised a fire.
For many years The Animal had disappeared during winter months, and he remained unwilling to explain where he went and how he lived.
Zach did not really care, as long as he reappeared with the better weather. There would be few parties moving in the cold months, anyway, and it would be unwise for any of those few to disappear. Too often there would be snow on the ground, and a single careless mistake could betray what sort of killer was preying within the Endless Hills.
The Animal did not wish to be seen by other humans, and that Zack believed, made everything perfect. When he came, The Animal appeared at night, and if other than his family was about, he did not come at all. Sheene could believe that no one on the Blue Mountain frontier knew of his twisted son, and if any knew that there was such a being, they did not know that he was a Sheene.
Of course, Chek and Chok preferred a simpler plan. They wished to shoot Shatto from convenient cover and be done with it.
Unlike his not overly-bright sons, Zach Sheene recognized that if Quehana had been that easy a target he would have been dead long before. Survivors of the Indian wars became clever and cunning. Rob Shatto was known to have destroyed an entire war party that came against him. If one of the boys missed . . . Well, that would mean an end to all of their planning, because Shatto would run them both down as easily as he would a spine-shattered deer.
The Anima
l would take care of Quehana while the rest of the Sheenes were far distant.
Zach did wish he could figure a way that they could all see it, but he resolved to stay smart and allow no suspicions to drift the Sheene's way.
Chapter Fourteen
When the Sheenes came to Carlisle, they pastured their animals in enclosures owned by Scatter Harris, who also operated an eating and drinking business favored by less affluent village citizenry.
Harris had lost three fingers of his right hand during an Indian battle about which he rarely spoke. Those who wondered could discover that during the French War, while heading for the mountains in search of land, the Harrises had wagoned through Carlisle. Weeks later they had reappeared with Scatter's hand wrapped in a bloody rag and a story of a battle with hostile Indians resulting in his serious maiming.
In Carlisle, the Harrises had taken possession of a tumbled cabin formerly occupied by a couple who had died of fever. Harris had claimed to be a nephew, and no one had questioned further.
In time, Harris had hung a shingle announcing his hovel as The Sign of Two Fingers and invited all who had interest to join their table for food and drink.
Harris's appeal was to a rougher crowd that would have been unwelcome at Reed's or other village ordinaries.
Scatter Harris, often answering to the name "Fingers," watered his liquor and disguised the thinning with gun powder or cow urine. If he had meat, it was stringy and often butchered from animals that had died of common cattle illnesses. The porridges, soups, and stews prepared by his slovenly woman would not bear examination, but The Sign of Two Fingers' customers were of similar ilk and found the Harris ambiance familiar and comforting.
Although "Fingers" Harris offered bed corners, the Sheenes camped nearby and only occasionally took meals at the establishment's worn eating board. Zach Sheene preferred privacy, and on this occasion he was thankful to have established the routine of camping and living apart where the Sheenes could perform the secretive tasks necessary to initiate their capture of Bright Morning.
Preparing and perfecting their plan took three days, but when ready, the Sheenes struck without hesitation.
Part of the Sheene's delay had been waiting the arrival of Yellow Jacket's band of four Shawnee with whom Zach had sometimes traded. Cast-outs, the Shawnee were quick to accept Sheene's offer of rum and blankets for a task so simple that they found it amusing.
The thrust of their negotiating had not been that of acceptance but rather of what color the blankets would be. Zach had argued color to add importance to what he was giving, but blue or red made no difference, the cheap cloth woven for Indian trade made all blankets cost the same.
As Sheene had instructed, the Shawnee came through the woods and did not make their presence known to the village. Zach issued a tot of Harris's rum to each brave and delivered his instructions. Pipes were smoked, details were settled, and following another swallow of Harris's fiery brew, the Indians faded into the trees. They would not again be seen near the village of Carlisle.
Shortly before their scheme unfolded, Zach reviewed with his boys. He was sure they knew how it would go, but they could be a thick pair, and this was not a time for confusions.
Zach thought of The Animal even now searching for an easy target far in the west, perhaps beyond Fort Loudon, possibly close to the forks of the Ohio. The further the better was Zach's opinion, but when The Animal returned from this foray his reward would be waiting, and from then until they finished with him, The Animal would appear and depart on Zach Sheene's schedule and not as ruled by some wild hungers behind the man-beast's beetled brows.
Zach said, "Now listen close this one last time, boys. There's no room for mistakes, and if we make fools of ourselves doing this, all of our plans for a handsome trading post will be gone for good. In fact, we'll be lucky if we don't get hung from the stockade gate. You just keep that in mind while I'm talking.
"The next thing is that we're doing this not for either of you or for me. We're doing this to tie The Animal close, so's he will do what needs to be done without wandering off and us not able to keep him at his work, so's we can get ahead enough to purchase the goods and lands that we need."
The lengthy pronouncement left Zach winded, and he paused to suck at his pipe while the boys thought it over.
The woman was to be The Animal's, and there would be no sharing. Interference by any of them just might turn the beast's rage on them. Zach shuddered. His twisted son appeared loyal and in most ways willing, but who could know what lurked inside the grotesque lump of a head? Not much good, Zach feared.
"Now, Chek will do the picking off. He'll be wearing his boots because we want to leave white sign. He's seen the girl go to the privy early every morning. That's where he'll grab her."
Chok guffawed. "Get her after she's done Chek, or you'll be havin' to clean yourself."
Zach was not amused. "This ain't playin' around time, Chok." He fixed the man with his worst glare.
"And don't you get to figurin' that she'll be easy, Chek. This gal was raised Injun, and she's likely going to fight like a catamount. Throw her down, and get her mouth stuffed or the whole village will be on you."
Chok had turned sullen. "We both ought to go, Pap. If'n she gets away from Chek, the plan is done in."
Chek snorted. "She won't get away. The day ain't come that I can't handle one small Injun gal."
Zach warned, "Don't go killing her or breaking her bones, Chek. She's got to be right for The Animal."
Zach wasted a doubtful look at his sons before continuing. "Once you get her, you march her through the woods grove. Now that's important, Chek. We've got to leave her shoe prints, so don't go lugging her." The flat-nosed man nodded understanding.
"When you get about in the middle, there's the clear place right along where the trail turns. You give a hoot, and Yellow Jacket will show himself. We’ve walked the land, so you know the spot." He received a nod of acknowledgment.
"Right there, Yellow Jacket puts on the girl's shoes, and his band take her. You and Yellow Jacket walk fast to the pike where Chok will be waiting with the horses. You'll join up at the big oak where someone drove a staple for horse tying. You get on a horse, and put Yellow Jacket on another. Then ride east. Chok will come along behind making sure his horses wipe out the tracks of yours.
"I shouldn't have to tell you, but I will anyway. As soon as Yellow Jacket is on his horse, you get the shoes off him. Hide 'em in a saddle bag until you've gone about a mile. When he slides off the horse tell him to bury the shoes in the forest where no one will ever find them."
Zach thought for a moment. "No, that won't do. What you better do is let Yellow Jacket head back for his bunch. Then you hide the shoes. It wouldn't be past that red varmint to keep the shoes, and sooner or later someone might see them. Better that you do the shoe burying."
The older man thought for another long moment. "A little way further, I want you to get those boots off and put on your moccasins."
"And finally, you ain’t to wear those boots anywhere around here until all of this is about forgot. You’ll leave marks, ’cause that’s part of the plan, but them boots mustn't get traced back to any of us. That clear?"
Chok was disdainful. "Now who could track boot marks, Pap?"
"I can think of a few who could, but that ain’t the point. The point is that we don’t take no chances. We Sheenes aren’t to have any more to do with this than the local parson. This woman stealin’ is by some white men who headed east.
"Fact is, about the time the village gets really aroused, we’ll be on hand to help discover tracks and work out what happened. You see how that can go?
"What we'll be doin’ is making sure that anyone looking sees what we want them to see."
"Tell us again what Yellow Jacket will be working at, Pap?" Chek liked the planning part.
"Well, once they get a decent way toward the mountain, They'll get them white clothes off of that woman and put her in Injun dress. They
'll keep her tied and all until they get across Blue Mountain, and they will avoid any paths that might chance meeting with whites."
"They'll have to smear her up pretty good, Pap, cause she don’t look Injun-skinned anymore. She’s turned as white as any of us."
"Yellow Jacket ain't a fool, Chek. He'll see that and probably use walnut juice on her. Main point is that he don't run into whites, and if that somehow happens, he don't give 'em a good look."
Zach paused to consider. "I've also told him to avoid using the passes over the mountain. Yellow Jacket claimed he knows ways to cross over and get lost before even smart trackers could get near him. Reckon he does too, 'cause he was on a war party or two that came onto Robinson's Fort and other places back during the last fighting.
"Now, the only thing left to mention is that once the shoes are gone and the boots hid good, you'll mill the horses around, and then come back and put them in the pasture. Don't hurry the animals, 'cause we don't want them lookin' sweated. With a little luck you won't be meeting wagons and other horses on the pike that early, but the more that pass over your tracks goin' and comin', the better it will be all around."
Chok was again disdainful. "There ain't nobody here that could follow a cow across a bog, Pap."
Zach agreed. "But we still ain't taking chances, boy. We've got a lot hanging off of this work, and it has to flow as smooth as hot syrup."
The Widow Pratt's home backed against thick woods, and the trees were also close along one side of the small yard where grass was kept short by grazing goats. The privy was thirty steps from the house, and the path to and from was worn deep. Chek's ambush site was a large tree partly hidden by a thick bush that stood only a long stride from the path.
Chek remained motionless when Bright Morning passed on her way to the privy, but struck fast and hard on her return.
He caught her from behind with a big paw slapped over her mouth. His weight slammed her forward onto the ground driving air from her lungs in a tortured whoosh.
Ironhawk (Perry County, Pennsylvania Frontier Series Book 6) Page 14