by Vella Munn
Because he'd looked at Reddin Croon and thought of what the man had done to Calida.
His mind flitted from one thought to another like a butterfly seeking a flower. Incapable of running any more, he kept up a staggering trot. He stepped into a spongy bog and then out of it. His feet scraped over tree roots. He bled.
Night caressed him. The air was as hot as it had ever been and sapped what strength he had left. Mouth open so he could pull more air into his lungs, Panther concentrated on sounds. A few minutes ago it seemed as if the army men were so close he could have reached out and touched them. Now the horses no longer screamed. A few still whinnied occasionally, their sounds faint.
He could—he could rest.
Earlier in the day, Gaitor and he had stopped beside a small pond. They'd agreed that if they were separated, they would look for each other there. Because he'd spent his entire life in Piahokee, Panther didn't need daylight to know what direction to go, but what had seemed a short, easy run earlier now was so hard.
He fell again. This time he couldn't say whether he'd tripped or his legs had given out. He lay on his good side and thought about nothing except how much it hurt to breathe. Several minutes later, he pulled himself out of the pain enough to check if he was still bleeding.
He was.
Working blindly, he felt around him for a leaf or fern to press against his side to stem the flow, but his hands only came in contact with bits and pieces of hot, rotting material.
Calida. Think about her. About seeing her again.
Strength welled up from some unknown place deep inside and he managed to stand again. He walked slowly now, carefully, like an old man who has lost the branch he uses to support his body. It didn't seem to be as hard to breathe as it had before, but maybe that was only because walking took all his concentration. He thought about the village of his childhood, of the night he and Gaitor went from strangers to brothers, of his prayers that his father's spirit would find peace. Mostly he thought of how Calida's eyes sometimes glittered like stars.
She'd wanted to come with him. If she had, she might now be dead. Or worse.
In a slow and dulled way, he realized he wasn't alone. He tried to pull in the scent of whatever it was, but all he could smell was his own blood. He stood on legs splayed wide to support him and cursed the tortured sound of his breathing. If he was dying, a panther would know. Would stalk him. But a panther was patient.
Croon?
No. Croon and his men didn't know how to be silent.
"Panther?"
"Gaitor."
Turning toward the voice, he took a child's step. His knees gave out, and he felt himself slumping into a tangle of arms and legs. He was trying to lift his head off the ground when Gaitor reached him.
"Damnation. What you do that damn fool thing fur?"
He wanted to tell Gaitor about giving Calida peace of mind, of the overwhelming need to be the one to kill Reddin Croon, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.
With hands that probed and poked but knew how to be gentle, Gaitor assessed his injury. Finally the Negro rocked back on his knees, a rough hand still on Panther's chest. "You cain't walk, can you?"
Panther could tell him that he'd try, that if Gaitor would give him just a bit of help, he'd make it to where the Egret clan was, but it would be a lie, and if Gaitor didn't know it now, he soon would. "You cannot carry me," Panther managed. "Where is Sara?"
"Here," the woman whispered from somewhere in the dark. "Panther, you saved my life. He would have killed me. I know he would have."
At least he'd done that; he should be glad. "Why are there no more troops than these?" he asked. He wasn't sure whether that was important.
"I dons know," Sara said." 'cept that Massa Croon and that general man had a big argument when the massa tole him what he was gonna make me do. The general, he says the army gots to—to honor its 'greement with the Negroes."
He didn't need Sara to tell him what Reddin Croon thought of that; her back was proof. Gathering strength from bits and pieces of his body, Panther told Gaitor that he had to get himself and Sara back to the Egret clan as quickly as possible. If necessary, the clan members would separate and hide, anything to keep Croon and his men from finding them.
"What 'bouts you?" Gaitor cut in before he'd finished. "I ain't gonna leave you here."
"You have to." Panther forced himself to remain propped on his elbow. "I will rest and follow—" His mouth dried. He swallowed and swallowed again. "I will follow later."
"The hell—"
"Gaitor! We have no time for this." He should shut his eyes; all he could see was a blood-red haze. "I will only slow you. The clan must be told. Only you can—only you can do that."
Gaitor cursed under his breath but didn't argue. Panther was grateful for that because he lacked the strength for any more conversation. Still, he would miss his friend's touch, his presence. Fighting the pain drumming through him, Gaitor and he briefly discussed where the clan would gather should it be necessary for the members to separate. If he were strong, it would take a three-day journey to reach the clean, hot sand where sea met land. Now...
After washing Panther's wound with drinking water and pressing a moss bandage against it, Gaitor handed him what was left of the food and water and told him he would return as soon as he could. Then, silent, Gaitor slipped into the wilderness with Sara close behind. Panther concentrated on the fading sound of footsteps until he could no longer hear them. Gaitor hadn't called him a fool, but both men knew the truth. He had put his need for revenge before safety, and maybe his life would end tonight because of it. Only, it wasn't just revenge. Reddin Croon had had him bound like a captured animal, had turned him and his clan into fugitives, but the man hadn't taken his body for his pleasure as he'd done with Calida.
Calida.
What might have happened if he'd let her come with him?
His elbow began to ache. Moving as carefully as possible, he stretched out on the damp, heated ground. His side screamed; he sucked in air, fought the pain. He was shaking and yet his face still felt so hot. He would rest for awhile. Then...
His thoughts had gone somewhere where he couldn't find them when he spotted twin red spots of light in the distance and forced himself to concentrate. Understanding, he wrapped his hand around his spear and waited for the alligator.
Chapter 20
Calida's legs burned. Her lungs ached and pulling air into them made her head pound. Still, the thought of stopping never entered her mind. Gaitor and an exhausted Sara had reached the Egret clan at daylight. In clipped tones, Gaitor had told everyone what had happened, and she'd forced herself to listen. Panther, shot by Reddin Croon!
Only Gaitor was to return for Panther because it wasn't safe for more than him to get closer to the army. The rest, Calida included, were to scatter and eventually join up again at Sea Point. Before he left, Gaitor had to consult the healer and dispatch runners to Osceola and other chiefs.
Panther might not have that much time. That was why she'd insisted Sara tell her how to find him.
Her hips moved rhythmically. By keeping her attention split between the ground beneath her and what lay ahead, she kept up a steady pace that might—please—allow her to reach Panther before he died.
I'm coming, Panther, I'm coming, she chanted to herself as sweat poured off her. She carried water but had drunk only sparingly because Panther might need it. Gaitor had assured her that he'd left Panther with something to eat, and because she hadn't wanted to deprive the clan of what little food they had, she hadn't tried to take any with her.
She had a knife, prayed she'd be able to find the herbs she'd seen the healer use.
He had to be alive. Croon couldn't have killed him.
It was late afternoon now. She should be approaching the creek where they'd been forced to leave Panther. She cursed the necessity of having to move in a wide arc around the troops with their hated leader, but it couldn't be any other way. She'd heard them once, and although s
he couldn't say why, for a few minutes she had debated sneaking closer. In the end, fear for Panther had kept her on course.
She paused briefly to grab a couple of fresh persimmons. The sweet fruit quieted the worst of her hunger and brought needed moisture to her throat. She tucked the other one in her pocket for Panther because he would be alive when she reached him. He would.
The vegetation, which had already been so thick that she could barely find a trail through it, became even more clogged. It wasn't the first time she'd walked where it felt as if the plants might envelop her. Still, she felt trapped, unable to see more than a few feet in any direction. Because the glossy-leafed palms and rain-fed cypress put most of their energy into their tops, they created a curtain that nearly shut out the sun. The air down here felt old and trapped. She longed for the clearings Panther had always found for them to stay in. She missed the great stretches of pines in dryer areas.
When a large snowy egret rose into the air ahead of her, she watched the pure white bird with its soft, fluffy feathers disappear through a slit of an opening. Mistress Liana had had a hat made from egret feathers. She'd put it on once when no one was watching and imagined herself the grand lady. Now, although she could have a dozen plumes if she so desired, she preferred to see the birds alive. St. Augustine, which had once fascinated her, no longer held any appeal. She prayed she would never see it again.
She heard a cough, stopped. It wasn't a human sound. She knew the difference between what came from a man's throat and the noise an alligator made. After nearly a minute, the cough was repeated, to her left and ahead. A hunting alligator can be silent, but sometimes when they want to frighten their victim, they bellow like that. Panther had told her so.
Moving cautiously, she concentrated on each step. Because she hadn't seen the army for several hours, she thought about calling out to see if Panther answered, but Croon might have left some of his men behind to search for him. Her belly tightened at the thought that they might have found him—might have found his body. If they'd left him because he was useless to them, maybe that was what had attracted the alligator.
A grunt followed by an angry shout pulled her from her thoughts. Despite the sense of urgency eating away at her, she forced herself to move slowly and silently. Because women weren't allowed on hunting trips, she hadn't been able to watch the men as they stalked game, but it came easily to her. Crouching low, her knife held firm and ready, she followed where her senses led her. Several times she stopped to listen. Something heavy and slow was moving through the grasses just beyond where she could see. She knew the sound an alligator made as it dragged its awkward body over land. This was it.
She slipped around a palm, careful to remain in the generous shadows. Pushing aside a fern, she spotted the area Sara had told her about. Because it had been fed by rain for several weeks, the creek overflowed its banks and oozed through the vegetation on either side.
She saw the alligator first. The deadly monster-sized beast lay with its mouth half open and its tail just out of the water. It was staring at something.
Panther.
He lay on his side. His right hand was draped over a spear, but he didn't seem to be holding onto it. She strained to catch the rise and fall of his chest, but he was too far away for her to see. How long had he'd been locked in confrontation with the alligator? She'd heard his shout a few minutes ago, but he was motionless now.
The alligator's mouth opened a few more inches. Its tail moved lazily from side to side like a panther waiting for sleep to overcome it, but the massive creature wasn't falling asleep. It was waiting to eat.
"Panther." His name came out a harsh and yet barely audible hiss.
The tastanagee didn't move.
"Panther?"
The alligator must have heard. Either that, or it had grown tired of the waiting game. Slowly and ponderously, it lifted itself onto its too-small legs and began inching closer to Panther. When it had covered half the distance, while she was still trying to come to grips with the danger the creature represented, Panther lifted his head off the ground. His hand tightened around the spear, and she saw the muscles along his back grow hard and ready. He must have heard her, but maybe there was nothing left of him except the need to keep the alligator from attacking.
Pushing away from the tree, she started toward the combatants. Her knife would be no defense against thick scales. She would have to use Panther's spear. I'm here, Panther. I'm here. She kept her desperate message inside her because she didn't dare draw Panther's attention off his foe. A moment of weakness, of inattention, was all it might take to prompt an attack.
Inch by silent inch she eased closer. Despite what she'd told herself, it worried her that Panther hadn't sensed her presence. The alligator didn't seem to notice her either. If her legs were strong enough and her reactions quick enough, she should be able to reach the spear before the beast completed its deadly lunge. But if she had to wrestle the weapon out of Panther's hand—
"Panther. It's me."
He made no movement to indicate he'd heard, yet she sensed a change in him. It wasn't that he'd relaxed his guard in any way. Rather, it was if he was now sharing this moment, this reality with her. She didn't dare concentrate on him because if she did, she might miss something vital in the alligator's movements.
The beast seemed to be enjoying himself. If it was possible for alligators to be playful, this one was. He'd found what he considered easy prey. He could wait, draw out the act of killing.
She would die before she let that happen.
Beyond any emotion except determination, she continued toward Panther. Only now did the alligator acknowledge her presence by briefly turning its head in her direction and lashing its tail back and forth. She could sense it readying its ponderous body for a charge, but she moved first. Pushing off, she covered the ground still separating her from Panther in a single bound. She bent down and grabbed the spear, barely aware that Panther had offered no resistance. Screaming, she ran at the alligator. All she could see was the massive head with its jaws open wide. Beyond those deadly teeth was a soft and vulnerable throat. She aimed at that dark spot, tightened her hand around the spear, lunged forward, and plunged it deep into the animal's mouth. The great jaws snapped shut. She felt something hard rake across the back of her hand, but didn't take time to determine whether she'd been injured.
The alligator began thrashing in a frenzied circle. Horrified, she watched as blood seeped out from between its teeth. She'd never killed anything before. This creature was huge, much longer than Panther was tall, so wide across the back that her legs couldn't span it.
Recoiling from what she'd done, Calida nevertheless continued to stare in fascination. The beast lifted its head and then slammed it against the ground as if that could dislodge what barely protruded from its mouth. The jaws snapped open. Little feet clawing furiously, it turned in a short circle and half ran, half slithered into the creek. She watched it slowly disappear, shuddered when the water around it turned red.
Panther.
By ordering her every movement, she managed to walk the few steps back to him. Her body trembled as if thunder was rumbling through it, and for too long, she couldn't think what to do besides stare down at the tastanagee. Her tastanagee.
He'd managed to work himself into a sitting position, but his white lips told her how much the effort had cost. His hand slid to his side, and he pressed. His nostrils flared.
"Panther!" Thinking only of him now, she sank to her knees beside him. He made a queer little movement as if to increase the distance between them and then slumped forward gracefully, silently. She caught him and helped ease him back to the ground. He breathed quickly and shallowly with the faintest gasp at the end of each breath. His eyes were open and fixed on her, but she wasn't sure whether he saw her.
Before giving herself up completely to him, she looked back at the creek. She could just make out the scales along the alligators back. The stained water around it bubbled and ch
urned. She wondered if it was dying and how long that would take.
"You should not be here."
She didn't want Panther to exhaust himself by talking. At the same time, the need to hear his voice was a sharp pain. "You're all right," she said in a singsong tone she couldn't control. "You're going to be all right."
When he didn't acknowledge what she'd said, she began caressing his shoulder. Even so weak that he could barely keep his eyes open, he was strength, and she took in some of it for herself. "What about the soldiers?" she asked. "I didn't see or hear anyone. They didn't leave anyone here to look for you?"
"None would stay. I heard them arguing with him."
She wouldn't think about Reddin Croon. Only Panther mattered. "I—I didn't take time to collect any herbs." Unless he told her he didn't want it, she would continue to touch him. "I think—I think I can find what you need."
"It does not matter."
"Not matter?" Did he know he was dying? Oh please—
"You must go, Calida. You belong with the clan, safe where the army cannot find you."
The only place she wanted to be was here; didn't he know that? "I can't leave you; I won't."
"No! Calida—"
"Stop it, Panther!" Tension and fear made her voice sharper than she wanted it to be. "I defied your orders, yours and Gaitor's, because I was determined to find you. Do you think I'm going to leave now? Do you?" She jerked her head at where she'd last seen the alligator. "He isn't the only one, you know that. Another will come after you, and you don't have your spear anymore."
His lids slid over his beautiful black eyes. Alarmed, she crouched over him. To her relief, his chest moved steadily in and out and the vein at the side of his neck pulsed with life. If she didn't look at his side, she could believe he'd simply fallen asleep. When he woke, he'd tell her he was going hunting and then—
No. Not hunting. He'd hold out his arms and she'd go to him and they'd—
He didn't want her here. She didn't dare forget that.
Spurred on by the need to do something so she wouldn't have time for thinking, she gently removed the wrapping Gaitor had placed over his wound. The sight of the raw flesh nearly made her cry out in alarm. After a moment, she forced herself to touch the flesh around it. It was too hot.