Ironhawk (Perry County, Pennsylvania Frontier Series Book 6)

by Roy F. Chandler

  So, that all seemed in order, but their mounts and mules could not cross the log, and Rob turned his attention uphill to work out a path around the uprooted base of the great tree.

  Mathew Sheene shuddered beneath the restraint he had forced upon himself. He had laid his false trail with utmost care, and from his hiding he had watched Quehana study his tracks and conclude, as he had to, that his enemy moved ever further away.

  Quehana was cautious, and The Animal saw his enemy’s careful examination of the tracks on the far side of the fallen tree and of the scrapings where he, Mathew Sheene had climbed over the great trunk. The Animal was pleased because his ruse had made certain that he faced only one white at a time. The younger white was now behind all of the animals and watching their back trail. Mathew Sheene expected to kill Quehana and be gone before the other white could interfere.

  All was not perfect, however. The Animal had not expected Quehana to scout on foot. He had hoped that the unsuspecting Quehana would ride in upon him, and when Mathew Sheene rose almost beneath his hooves, the startled horse would restrict Quehana's movement until Sheene's fisted rock crushed Quehana's skull or smashed life from his body.

  Instead, Quehana was stepping carefully toward the uprooted stump of the fallen forest giant. Within a few strides Quehana might detect the form buried in the mud of the uprooting. Only Sheene's eyes were visible, but The Animal could detect a rabbit when it cowered within brush, and he assumed that Quehana could as well.

  The Animal discounted the woman and the youthful white trapped behind with their horses and mules filling and blocking the trail. He would destroy Quehana and disappear into the forest. Later he would strike again, and the youth would be powerless to prevent recapture of his woman.

  Watching the eyes of Quehana for the first hint of discovery, The Animal gathered himself. Fever burned his body, and the agony of his wounds melted his strength, but he would smash his enemy and perhaps crush him within the massive arms that had never approached failure. Quehana would die.

  Rob glanced aside to make sure that Ironhawk was watching their rear. Satisfied that he was, he took the first uphill step toward the root of the great tree. The only spot not clearly within his view was the hollow left by the tree's fall, and Rob instinctively gripped his rifle in both hands his thumb on the rifle's hammer.

  He studied the gnarled and head-high roots so recently ripped from the earth, and straightened a little to see into the muddy hole. He began to relax when his senses pricked him. Rob's vision snapped into focus, and he saw eyes, mad, crazily insane eyes that glared from the mud as if they were fire coals.

  The earth erupted and a roar as insane as the eyes slammed Quehana's hearing. A giant form burst from within the explosion of muck, and Rob swung his rifle into it.

  There was no time to aim or choose a target. Rob held for the mass that hurtled at him and squeezed his trigger.

  Muzzle blast enveloped the charging monster even as the ball struck, and Rob leaped aside to dodge the charge.

  A fist clenching a rock larger than a human head swung through the smoke cloud. Defensively, Rob jerked the rifle upward, and the stone crashed into the weapon, smashing the stock and driving the broken rifle into his face.

  Dazed, Quehana staggered, and the beast he had shot a day before drove into him. The attack was unstoppable, and Rob did not even try. His broken rifle crushed against his chest as Rob rode with the charge, and when it overpowered his footing, he allowed it to carry him back and down.

  The roar of the monster became a victory howl, and the weight of the beast-man fell upon Quehana’s body. Holding the monster off of him was impossible, but a hundred boyhood wrestling matches had taught Quehana. When his back struck he jammed his feet upward into the lower part of the descending beast and thrust mightily.

  The momentum of the beast-man’s charge rolled the monster forward, and Quehana’s pistoning legs propelled him over-head in a mighty arc. The beast’s howl changed to a squall, and the creature flew beyond the trail and crashed into the rock-bottomed gully on the low side.

  Mathew Sheene saw Quehana’s eyes discover him, and he charged, mud flying, the scream that had frozen enemies bellowing forth. The sledging impact of the rifle ball tore into his body like a red hot poker and threw his balance, but he swung his rock into Quehana with all of his force and felt the smash of the stone into the rifle and surely into Quehana’s head.

  Down went his enemy, and triumph roared through The Animal’s agonies. He lunged to pin his enemy, but Quehana’s legs rose like pillars and hurled him beyond the narrow path and into the rock-strewn hollow beyond.

  Never before had Mathew Sheene been bested, but he soared like a thrown boulder before crashing among the rubbled stone with an impact beyond anything he had felt before.

  For a short instant, Sheene’s vision blurred from the collision with sharp-edged Rocks, but rage and hatred burned through, and he lunged to his feet. Using his hands as claws, he scrabbled up the gully wall. His older wounds tore at him, and Quehana’s rifle ball and the deadening fall had leached more strength, but his pain increased rage, and his short legs drove him upward.

  Rob floundered to his feet, his hands numbed by the impact of the rock and his mind reeling from his rifle’s smash into his face. He fumbled for his pistol, but it had been scraped loose and lay somewhere in the mud of the trail.

  A single step took Rob to the edge of the gully, and there, with his head only slightly below where he stood, the beast was regaining its feet.

  Again stunned, Rob saw an exit wound in the animal's broad back and knew his bullet had once more gone home, but undeterred by bullet or fall the beast-man was coming.

  The Animal rumbled deep in its chest, and Rob's snarl of rage matched it. Gripping his broken rifle as if it were a club, Rob leaped at the climbing beast. He swung with a possessed fury at the creature's head, staring into deranged eyes that saw only death. Sunken within massive shoulders, the head moved, and the gun barrel sledged instead into where a collar bone should have been.

  There was something there, and Rob heard bone crack, but the beast-man never faltered. Arms longer than tree limbs swept around Rob's over-balanced form and pinned him as if they held a child.

  Concentrating on his climbing, The Animal was slow in looking up, and he barely saw the swing of Quehana's rifle as it swept downward. Instinct hunched a massive shoulder, and the steel of the gun lock buried itself there instead of in his skull. The Animal felt the impact drive through him, and he, too, heard the crack of something inside. When he knocked the rifle away and snatched Quehana within the circle of his killing embrace, Mathew Sheene felt new agonies grind, but he focused his strength to squeeze the juices of life from Quehana’s struggling body.

  Desperately, Rob drove his head into the creature’s face, but the vise-like arms tightened. Their feet thrashed the ground struggling for purchase, but there, too, the animal’s stubby legged body had leverage, and Rob could feel the strain punishing his muscles and joints.

  He tried for the beast’s eyes, but his arms were pinned above the elbows and the rifle was gone. Rob fought to spin the beast and loosen the noose of arms, but the immense weight of the man-animal held him immovable.

  Their breaths strained into the other’s ear, and the stench of the beast-man fouled the little air Rob captured. He dared not attempt to knee the monster lest there be nothing to injure, and the loss of balance could send him crashing to the ground beneath the beast’s dominating weight.

  His tomahawk arm was crushed tightly within the bear hug, but Rob believed he might reach his knife. He lunged mightily and forced a slight retreat. His fingers got the knife handle and ripped the blade from its leather sheath.

  Quehana feared his efforts were too little and too late. He could feel his back arching, and his strength was melting away. He slashed the knife along the creature’s outer arm and believed he split it to the bone, but nothing changed. He plunged the blade into the beast’s ribs a
nd forced it deeper until his fist met the matted fur.

  Sheene battled his enemy's strength and knew that he had known nothing like it, but his was the greater, and with deadly certainty he felt his arms tightening and knew Quehana's power would fail and he would hear the breaking of Quehana's back as all resistance fled.

  Then fire burned along Mathew Sheene's arm, and his teeth grated against the burn, but even as he fought on, another living flame entered his side and tore at his awareness.

  The agony was beyond a scream, and Mathew Sheene knew that although he would kill Quehana, he himself was too wounded to live. The Animal's arms tightened as he fought only to destroy the enemy he embraced.

  Rob felt his muscles fail, and he knew he was losing. He tried to thrash the double-edged blade back and forth within the giant but felt his fingers slip from the leather-bound hilt. Blackness rose like a tide, and with dimming awareness, Rob Shatto knew that he was about to die.

  Ironhawk had been looking to the rear when Quehana's shot and a nerve-freezing bellow of mindless fury jerked him around. He saw the monster charge and saw the falling Quehana fling the beast into the gully.

  The Hawk leaped from his horse, but the animals held by Bright Morning bucked and snorted clogging the trail, and he lost time slamming through them.

  He saw Quehana leap from the trail, rifle swinging, and he heard the Arrowmaker's snarl mix with the roar of the man-beast. Ironhawk beat the animals aside and reached the edge of the draw.

  Below him, giants locked in battle, but the monster was so large that Ironhawk could not doubt the outcome. He saw his broken off arrow embedded in the beast, and a fresh wound that appeared to completely penetrate the animal’s body spurted blood into the struggle.

  Even as he watched, Quehana stabbed his knife into the beast’s body to no avail, and Ironhawk saw Quehana’s back bending like a drawn bow.

  The Hawk thrust his cocked musketoon at the beast and jerked the trigger, but there was no explosion.

  Stunned, and instantly enraged, Ironhawk dropped the useless gun and snatched free the iron-handled tomahawk.

  Soundlessly, Ironhawk leaped at the straining combatants. In his youth, within the lodge of Tree Shadow, he had listened when warriors spoke of combats, and he remembered the deadliest of all killing points.

  Like a striking serpent, the tomahawk sped. In his haste, Ironhawk led with the hawk’s head edge of the hatchet, but he did not care.

  All of the wiry strength developed at the forge lay within Ironhawk's blow. As if crushing an egg shell, the tomahawk sank to its iron shaft in the base of the creature's skull.

  The impact of iron through bone ran to Ironhawk's shoulder. The tomahawk imbedded itself, and in his desperation, the Hawk knew only that it would not easily loosen for another blow.

  The result of the hawk's head strike was beyond expectation. The beast-man collapsed as if he had never lived. There was no final raging bellow, no terminal clenching of muscles or even blinking of eyes. The creature collapsed as if made from water.

  The hatchet was tom from Ironhawk's grip, and he fell on top of the dead beast. Quehana, too, was down and partly beneath the animal's great weight.

  For an instant the Hawk believed he had been too late, but Quehana stirred. His lungs filled as if he had not breathed for far too long, and he immediately began a struggle to escape the weight of the creature sprawled upon him.

  Ironhawk gathered himself and helped twist the dead weight from Quehana's trapped legs, but even when free, the Arrowmaker's breathing wheezed, and he waved his arms in weak attempts to aid his barely heard voice.

  Finally, Ironhawk understood, and he leaped to the path to find Quehana's pistol half buried in the mud. He handed it down, and with shaking fingers, Rob cleaned away mud and clay until he believed the pistol might fire either of its barrels.

  Then the mighty Quehana sat with his pistol clutched in both hands and pointed at the dead man-monster as if it might still rise to fight again. Even braced on his knees the pistol muzzle wobbled, and the Hawk realized that he had acted barely in time. Truly, Quehana had used all that he had.

  There was calling from above, and Ironhawk hurried to calm the neglected and fearful Bright Morning. He assured her that the beast was dead, and that Quehana was well. He glanced back into the ravine and almost doubted his words. The Arrowmaker still sat, holding the pistol, and making no effort to do more.

  The Hawk used time straightening tangled horse lines. He recovered his musketoon and found that the flint had fallen from the hammer vise and the hammer had slid without sparking against the iron frizzen. The pan had emptied itself onto the ground without flashing. A lesson to be learned, he believed.

  Suddenly, the memory of his own frantic efforts struck the mind of Ironhawk, and he felt his knees and arms tremble as if he were an ancient. His mind swirled, and he again seemed to struggle with pathetic slowness among the lurching mounts and pack animals.

  Ironhawk abandoned his organizing and placed Bright Morning beneath the protection of a large tree. He slipped over the bank to join Quehana who remained sitting above the lax carcass of the man-monster.

  Rob fingered his smashed and barrel-bent rifle with little awareness. His body was caked with the mud in which the beast-man had buried himself. Rob moved with obvious reluctance, and the Hawk feared that Quehana had serious injuries.

  As if understanding Ironhawk’s fears, Rob roused himself and stretched with stiffening discomfort.

  He fingered his bloodied cheek and rapidly swelling eye. "I reckon I'm in one piece, Hawk, but every part of me is a little bent and stretched into a new shape. By tomorrow I will hurt all over like a sore tooth."

  Ironhawk studied the man-beast collapsed in death. "What is he, Quehana? I have never heard of such an animal."

  "I've no idea, Hawk. He wears a rag around himself, and he has foot coverings. I’ve never known an animal to do that. Some sort of twisted and hugely developed human, I guess. He could plan and he could fight like nothing I have ever encountered."

  "Could he be an ape, Quehana? I have read about such animals in one of Mrs. Pratt's books."

  "Wish I knew, Hawk." Rob chuckled grimly.

  "I hope to high heaven that this thing doesn't have a resentful family hanging back in the brush just waiting to charge in on us."

  Rob bent forward with a groan and worried his knife from the beast-man's side.

  "Look at that, Hawk. I buried it to the hilt, and he didn't even seem to feel it. He was shot hard twice, and the one I gave him today went in his chest and came out his back."

  Parting the reeking and matted mud-smeared fur, Rob looked closer.

  "I think the first one struck his chest but didn't get through. He must have bones like a moose."

  "My arrow also went in straight, Quehana. How could he live with those wounds? How could he fight with even one of them?"

  Rob's tangled and sweated braids shook violently. "I haven't the slightest idea, Hawk. All I can say is that this was one tough beast or whatever we should call it, and I don't care to meet any more."

  Rob fought to his feet, and they stood for a moment studying the dead animal.

  Quehana said, "We'll haul him aside and throw some brush over him to keep passersby from ogling. We might come back for a closer look once I've recovered from the licking he was giving me.

  "Whew, he does smell doesn't he, Hawk? I reckon I had better scrub in the river before we go any further. I can't smell a lot better than he does right now."

  Ironhawk's smile was relieved. "You are not as bad as he, Quehana. He smells like he had been dead for at least a week."

  Rob gripped Ironhawk's shoulder as one man might congratulate an equal.

  "I was done and finished, Hawk. If you had arrived two steps later, he would have cracked my back. My sight was gone, and I'd lost the grip on my knife. I may have passed out for an instant, but I can't be sure.

  "You struck the perfect blow. It is one that can rarely be u
sed because it comes from behind. I am surprised that you knew it."

  It was Ironhawk's turn to chuckle. "I struck the blow a thousand times during my youth, Quehana, but not often since I became Ironhawk.

  "Once I fought daily battles with imagined enemies, but you turned me from the war trail, and now I am more white than Delaware."

  It was Rob who laughed aloud. He leaned a little on the Hawk for support, and they made their way toward the waiting Bright Morning.

  Rob said, "I am grateful that you did not forget all of the lessons of your youth, Ironhawk. Perhaps we should not be too hasty to abandon the ways of The People."

  Epilog

  Summer 1766

  Because the Arrowmaker ached and was rapidly stiffening, Ironhawk had led most of the way to Quehana’s lodge. Even long soaks in the sweat lodge did little to ease the pain or loosen the over-taxed muscles and ligaments of Quehana’s body.

  "That is one of the problems with having a lot of muscle, Hawk. When your body gets to hurting there is a lot of it to ache."

  "The beast would have broken anyone else’s back and crushed his chest in an instant, Quehana. There has never been anything as strong as that animal."

  "Well, he sure had me in his grip, and I’m glad you didn’t wait to soothe Bright Morning or quiet a horse.

  "How much do you figure that thing weighed?"

  "I would guess more than three hundred and fifty pounds."

  "I'll settle for that estimate, and what wasn't bone was muscle, that was for sure."

  — — —

  Ironhawk and Bright Morning were now a couple, and their first son, William, had "Q" for a middle initial.

  Rob was pleased and thought being called Quehana Hawk would sound excellent.