In the woods below a finch warbled.
Evelyn perked her ears. Birds always greeted the new day with a chorus of cries, and sure enough, the finch’s warble was the signal for dozens more to break into song and for jays to utter raucous shrieks. Holding the pistol in front of her, she edged to the opening. To the east a pink tinge marked the break of the new day. Below, the slope was empty. Shadow shrouded the forest. The mountain lion was gone. Or it could be that that was what it wanted her to think. Regardless, she wriggled out of the hole and onto her knees. Her legs were so stiff she could hardly move them.
One eye on the forest, Evelyn reached back in for the Hawken. She hurriedly reloaded and slid the pistol under her belt. Now came the dangerous part. Setting the rifle down, she poked her arms and head into the hole and took hold of the little Tukaduka. “Bright Rainbow?”
The girl didn’t stir.
“Bright Rainbow, can you hear me?” Evelyn shook her. When that failed to provoke a reply, she bunched her shoulders and pulled. It took some doing. She had to tug and twist, but she got the girl out and laid her on her back. “Bright Rainbow?” She moved her chin back and forth. All the girl did was groan.
Evelyn would never know what made her look over her shoulder. Some sixth sense, maybe. The sight of the black mountain lion slinking silently toward her with its chin practically brushing the ground sent her blood to racing. Its fiery eyes locked on hers. Mesmerized, she couldn’t move. She saw its paws flex, and then, with a scream that set her neck hairs to prickling, it launched itself at her. She grabbed for the Hawken but got hold of it by the barrel and not the stock. In self-preservation she swung with all her strength.
Struck full in the face, the mountain lion fell onto all fours. Evelyn staggered against the boulder. The lion snarled and crouched to spring, and she raised her rifle to swing again. For a span of heartbeats they were statues—and then there was a buzz and a thwunk and the mountain lion leaped into the air with a feathered shaft jutting from its side. It landed and spun and screeched in rage. A second shaft missed it by the width of one of its whiskers. With another earsplitting scream, it bounded toward the trees.
Up the slope ran a figure clad in green. He had another shaft nocked and raised his bow, but the cat gained cover before he could let fly. He stopped a few feet from Evelyn and gave her a look of such worry and devotion, her heart melted.
“Dega!”
“Evelyn.” Dega opened his arms and she stepped into them. For a moment he forgot about the cat and the girl at their feet. His joy was boundless. He had run all through the night, driving himself to the point of exhaustion and beyond. His legs were welters of torment and his lungs hurt with every breath.
Evelyn stepped back. “Where are my father and mother?”
Dega told her about his horse, and how he’d had a decision to make: continue on foot and not get back to her until much later than she expected or return to help her get the girl to King Valley. “I hope you not mad,” he said breathlessly. “I come back to you.”
“Mad?” Evelyn said, and couldn’t say any more for the constriction in her throat. She saw that his buckskins were drenched and that he was red in the face, and panting. “You big lunkhead. Why would I be mad?”
Dega was shocked. A lunkhead, Shakespeare McNair had told him, was someone who had, as McNair put it, “rocks between their ears.” Implying they were stupid. “I have rocks in head?”
“What? Oh, no, no, no.” Evelyn forgot herself and kissed him on the neck and the cheek. “You did exactly right.”
Dega thought his chest would explode. All night he had thought about how much he cared for her. All night he had been thinking about their argument and his mother, and he had come to a decision. “I want you know, our children be Nansusequa and white.”
“Oh, Dega.” Evelyn woud have lavished more kisses on him, but just then Bright Rainbow groaned. Bending, she slid her arms under her and picked her up. “We have to get her to the clearing. Guard me.”
Dega would die for her if he had to. That was another conclusion he had come to. When they got home he would sit down with his mother and explain his feelings. She had always been so caring and considerate, he was sure she would understand.
Bright Rainbow weighed more than Evelyn reckoned. Huffing, she got her to the bottom of the slope and merged with the woods. The sky had brightened and the shadows were dispersing.
Dega trailed her, protecting her, the bowstring pulled back, ready to loose a shaft at the first sign of the black mountain lion.
Evelyn tripped over an exposed root and firmed her hold on Bright Rainbow. A lot of birds were still singing. A rose-red grosbeak with black wings and a black tail flew over them, its brown mate at its side. She skirted several alders and spied the clearing and turned her head to tell Dega just as a sable battering ram launched itself out of a thicket and slammed into him from the side. She screamed his name and bent to deposit the girl.
Dega had caught movement out of the corner of his eye and tried to turn, but he wasn’t quick enough. Pain shot up his arm and along his side, and he was knocked against a pine and fell. Suddenly he was face-to-snarling-face with the cat, its forepaws on his chests, its fangs gaping wide to close on his throat. He jammed the bow into its mouth and razors opened his fingers. Before he could draw his hand away, the cat bit down. The pain was more than he could bear, and he cried out.
In fear for Dega’s life, Evelyn fired from the hip. At that range she couldn’t miss; the slug cored the lion’s side. In a flash the cat spun and was on her, slashing in a fury. She retreated and her heel caught on Bright Rainbow and down she sprawled.
Dega’s left hand was useless. The cat had bitten clean through it. He drew his knife, and as the beast pounced on Evelyn, he dived and stabbed, seeking to turn it from her so it would attack him. He succeeded; it did.
Evelyn’s senses reeled from a blow to the head. Her dress was torn and she was bleeding, but all that mattered to her was the sight of Dega on the ground with the black mountain lion tearing at him in a frenzy. Clutching her flintlocks, she thumbed back both hammers as she drew. Dega was stabbing and the mountain lion was biting and clawing. She threw herself full length and rammed both muzzles against the mountain lion’s head. The cat started to rise and turn toward her. She fired both pistols at once.
The black mountain lion arched its face to the sky. Only half was left, and the lone eye seemed to fix on the moon. It yowled and collapsed.
In the silence that followed, Evelyn rose on unsteady legs. The cat had fallen across Dega and neither was moving. “Dega?” She pushed, but the mountain lion was too heavy. “Dega, talk to me.”
“What you want me say?”
“You’re alive!”
“I think so.”
Evelyn laughed giddily. She pushed, and Dega pushed, and together they rolled the black beast off. Grimacing, he sat up and looked down at himself. His green buckskin shirt and pants were shredded, and he had been sliced and cut all over.
“You’re bleeding.” Evelyn stated the obvious. So was she.
“I live.” Dega got his moccasins under him, and stood. “I help you.”
It took the two of them to carry Bright Rainbow the rest of the way. They placed her near the embers and Evelyn rekindled the fire. She was weak and strangely sluggish yet elated to be breathing. “How are you holding up?”
Since all Dega had in his hands was his knife and it wasn’t at all heavy, he said, “I holding fine.”
A rumbling like thunder drew Evelyn’s gaze down the valley. Two riders were galloping toward them, and one of the riders was leading a buttermilk. “Ma and Pa and Buttercup!” she exclaimed.
Dega grunted. “I forget tell you. I see your horse. It run by me. I try to catch but it faster than my feet.”
“Buttercup must have gone all the way home and they started out after us right away,” Evelyn deduced. “Pa must have tracked us by torchlight most of the night.” She clasped her hands and laugh
ed for joy. “Everything will be all right. Ma is good at healing. She’ll help us and have Bright Rainbow on the mend in no time. Isn’t that great?”
Dega remembered an expression her brother liked to use. He hoped it fit the occasion. “Just dandy,” he said.
Author’s Note
This entry in the King saga was taken from Evelyn King’s diary and not her father’s journals. Nate makes mention of the affair but only briefly.
Evelyn is quite insistent that the mountain lion was black. Current scientific opinion has it that black mountain lions do not exist. Yet there have been scores of eyewitness accounts of such cats.
The reader is left to decide whether her tale is true. It should be noted that many years later, an old, moth-eaten black cat hide said to belong to the King family was sold at auction in Estes Park. No one knows where that hide is today.
The Wilderness series:
#1: KING OF THE MOUNTAIN
#2: LURE OF THE WILD
#3: SAVAGE RENDEZVOUS
#4: BLOOD FURY
#5: TOMAHAWK REVENGE
#6: BLACK POWDER JUSTICE
#7: VENGEANCE TRAIL
#8: DEATH HUNT
#9: MOUNTAIN DEVIL HAWKEN FURY (GIANT EDITION)
#10: BLACKFOOT MASSACRE
#11: NORTHWEST PASSAGE
#12: APACHE BLOOD
#13: MOUNTAIN MANHUNT
#14: TENDERFOOT
#15: WINTERKILL
#16: BLOOD TRUCE
#17: TRAPPER’S BLOOD
#18: MOUNTAIN CAT
#19: IRON WARRIOR
#20: WOLF PACK
#21: BLACK POWDER
#22: TRAIL’S END
#23: THE LOST VALLEY
#24: MOUNTAIN MADNESS
#25: FRONTIER MAYHEM
#26: BLOOD FEUD
#27: GOLD RAGE
#28: THE QUEST
#29: MOUNTAIN NIGHTMARE
#30: SAVAGES
#31: BLOOD KIN
#32: THE WESTWARD TIDE
#33: FANG AND CLAW
#34: TRACKDOWN
#35: FRONTIER FURY
#36: THE TEMPEST
#37: PERILS OF THE WIND
#38: MOUNTAIN MAN
#39: FIREWATER
#40: SCAR
#41: BY DUTY BOUND
#42: FLAMES OF JUSTICE
#43: VENGEANCE
#44: SHADOW REALMS
#45: IN CRUEL CLUTCHES
#46: UNTAMED COUNTRY
#47: REAP THE WHIRLWIND
#48: LORD GRIZZLY
#49: WOLVERINE
#50: PEOPLE OF THE FOREST (GIANT EDITION)
#51: COMANCHE MOON
#52: GLACIER TERROR
#53: THE RISING STORM
#54: PURE OF HEART
#55: INTO THE UNKNOWN
#56: IN DARKEST DEPTHS
#57: FEAR WEAVER
#58: CRY FREEDOM
#59: ONLY THE STRONG
#60: THE OUTCAST
#61: THE SCALP HUNTERS
#62: THE TEARS OF GOD
#63: VENOM
Copyright © 2010 by David L. Robbins
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Document creation date: 31.8.2012
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Document authors :
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Devil Moon w-64 Page 14