Daniel took off straight for the second camp. It was a long ride north past the big river, but Captain Will was satisfied Boone had led them by the quickest route.
“Your tracking improves, Wide Mouth. I am pleased.” Captain Will’s dark eyes looked over the campsite. “There are signs that another man was here. One fled the first camp before we arrived. That makes four in your party. How many more do you think there might be?”
“One other,” said Daniel, “if he ain’t hightailed it into the woods.”
“And where is he now? Hiding with the first two?”
“Might be. Or could be he’s still waiting at the third camp, the one you ain’t seen.”
Captain Will grinned broadly. “Wide Mouth speaks the truth at last. If you had not, I would be angry with you now. It is clear there is another camp. You have been in the Shawnees’ land a long time. I know this is so. Five men can skin many more hides than we have seen. Now, lead me to this other place.” The Indian’s mood seemed almost jocular.
Daniel sighed and shook his head. “Captain Will, I been kinda hesitatin’ to tell you this, knowin’ you won’t be happy ’bout it, but by God, it’s the truth.”
The Shawnee’s face clouded. His eyes shifted from Boone to Stewart and back again. “Tell me what, Boone? Do you pretend with me again!”
“Now, damn it all, there ain’t no pretendin’ to it,” Daniel protested. “It’s just that you ain’t goin’ to find any more skins where we’re goin’. There was plenty there, I won’t try an’ fool you ’bout that. But they’re gone. Packed back east.” He nodded to his left. “Over the mountains to North Carolina.”
Captain Will stiffened. His eyes grew dark with rage, and he leveled his rifle steadily at Daniel’s head. “You are foolish to lie to me, Boone.”
“Hey, now.” Daniel held up his hand. “How do you know I’m lyin’ when you ain’t even been there? Hell, I’m goin’ to take you to the camp right now, and you can see for yourself.”
Captain Will brought his mount up close. “There are no more skins? Just these!” His mouth curled and he spit at the small cache on the ground. “Pray to your white god, Boone. Ask him to send an eagle to fly many skins back over the mountains. I think you should do this now!” Will glared at him and jerked his mount away.
“Just a damn minute!” Daniel reached out and pulled him back.
The Shawnee stopped, surprise spreading across his features. The warriors about him lifted their weapons and turned angry faces at Boone. “I heard a lot about the Shawnees,” said Daniel, bringing all the indignation to his voice he could muster. “But I never heard they were two-faced.”
Captain Will stared. “What is this you say, Boone?”
“What you’re sayin’ is the question. Make up your mind, brother. Does the truth anger the Shawnees or does a lie? You don’t seem any too happy with either one. Tell me which’ll please you best, and that’s the one I’ll give you.”
The Indian studied him thoughtfully. “The Shawnees are lovers of truth. If there are no more skins in this camp of yours, then Wide Mouth shows honor as well.” Captain Will showed him a grim, sinister smile. “It greatly pleases a man to find honor in another, Boone. Still, it would please me as much to find a liar with a great treasure of skins.”
It was nearly dark when Daniel brought the Shawnee party through the low hills and down the hollow toward Station Camp Creek. Whatever happened now, he’d given Findley and the others a good head start. Findley knew Indians, and he’d know exactly what to do—start running, keep going, and don’t look back. Even with the pack horses loaded up full, he would have a damn good chance of making it.
Daniel tried not to think about his own future.
The pack horses would leave heavy tracks and the Shawnees would read his lie in minutes. He had no idea what Captain Will would do when he found that the camp had been deserted only hours instead of weeks. The high scaffolds built all over camp would tell the Indian exactly how big a cache had slipped through his fingers. He wasn’t going to like that: And before the braves took out after Findley, Captain Will might decide to do a little skinning of his own.
As the Shawnees climbed up the hollow to the outskirts of the camp, their high-pitched yells pierced the silence like arrows. Warriors broke from their column and thundered past Boone and Stewart into the woods.
“Maybe we ought to run for it now,” Stewart said dismally. “They’ll cut our throats for sure, Dan’l, when they find what you done to ’em.”
“You chew this rope through, and I’m right behind you. I ain’t got the teeth for it.”
“Lord,” groaned Stewart. “This is a sorry end for sure. I’ll never get back home for any of those Christmas pies, Dan’l, or for any more lovin’ from my Hannah.” Stewart stopped and sat up straight. Terrible war whoops erupted from the woods, and the Shawnees began firing their rifles in the air. “Oh, Great Jesus!” Stewart stared wide-eyed at Boone. “They’re comin’ for us. You hear that? Oh, Jesus, Jesus!”
“For God’s sake, shut up!” snapped Daniel.
Captain Will tore out of the brush straight for them, his heavy buffalo robe flapping at his shoulders, and his rifle raised high over his head. He was grinning from ear to ear and shouting at the sky. Jerking the pony up hard, he let out another yell, then trotted crazily around the pair in a circle. “Boone, you are a fine liar,” he laughed. “It is a good joke you pull on Captain Will. A very good joke indeed!”
Daniel stared at him, then dug his heels hard into his horse’s flanks dragging Stewart’s mount along with him into the camp. He knew what he’d find there, but even when he saw it for himself, he couldn’t let himself believe it. Findley and the others were gone, but everything was just as Daniel had left it a few days before—the pots, the pans, the blankets, the traps, even the horses and rifles and ammunition—everything, including the high scaffolds, covered solid with prime skins. Everything he owned and half a year’s work. John Findley had run off and left it all for the Shawnees.
Chapter Thirteen
As the Shawnees reveled in their find, a dark, killing rage began to smoulder inside Daniel. Stewart saw the fire in his brother-in-law’s eyes and feared for his own life. He was certain Boone would go crazy and get them both slaughtered.
Daniel, though, wasn’t thinking about killing Indians. He was thinking about killing Findley. How could he do this? How could he let such a thing happen!
Great God A’mighty, he’d had all the time in the world to get the damn skins out! Boone could understand Cooley and the others running scared. They were farmers, not woodsmen. But John Findley losing his nerve—that was a notion Daniel couldn’t take to. Goddamn it—how could you be so wrong about a man?
Daniel was certain now that Captain Will would let them live. He understood the man and knew how his mind worked. In spite of what most folks thought, Indians wouldn’t kill you just for the hell of it. In Daniel’s experience, they were no more savage or brutal than most white men. A lot less, maybe, if you got down to it. Will had a fine cache of pelts to take up the Ohio, and a great story to tell the braves back home. Had he not stripped the mighty Boone himself of his treasure? And better yet, left him alive to bear his shame? To the Shawnees, this would embellish Captain Will’s deed in a way no mere scalp could ever hope to.
By the end of the second day, the Indians had everything worth taking from the camp loaded on pack horses. Daniel couldn’t stand to watch. When the Indians saw this, they took every opportunity to taunt him.
Finally the Shawnees were ready to leave, and Captain Will cut the bonds from his prisoners, then walked alone with Daniel down through the hollow. There he gave him a single rifle and enough powder and shot to take game.
“Wide Mouth,” he said gravely, “I know your thoughts. You believe I have taken these skins from you, but you are wrong. If I had truly taken the skins, then I would be a thief. It is you who are a thief, Wide Mouth. I merely take the skins back; for they have always bel
onged to my people. The white man keeps cows about his towns and farms. He kills these cows for food and skins. The game you take here is the cattle of my tribe. It does not belong to you, any more than the white man’s cows belong to the Shawnees.”
Will paused, and looked at Boone for a long moment. “I leave you with your life, and I tell you this. Go back where you came from. Do not rob the Shawnees again. If you return, my brother, you will find angry wasps waiting here to sting you.”
Captain Will turned away, pulled the buffalo robe about him and gazed out at the hills. “Now I will speak of something else, Boone, because we are not true enemies. If we were, we would do each other honor in battle. Is this not so?”
“It’s as true as it can be,” Daniel agreed. “If we was to fight, there’d be pride in it for both of us.”
Will nodded soberly. His dark eyes looked squarely at Boone. “I know of your fight with the Shawnees, Wide Mouth. Three were killed and one was not. It was a fair fight. I know about the girl, too. All this has been told to me.” The Indian paused. “Where is the girl now, Boone?”
“I don’t know where she is,” Daniel said honestly. “She was here with the others. She’s gone now.”
Captain Will nodded thoughtfully. He knew it was true. He and Boone were not lying to one another now.
“What I tell you is from my heart, Wide Mouth. Listen well. It is for your ears and not for another. The girl was taken by Shawnee warriors for Black Knife. The braves you killed belonged to him. This is why I have not taken your life. Black Knife’s ways are not mine, though many Shawnees welcome him to their fires. I do not call him brother. I think this Black Knife shames his white father, and his red mother, too. That is much shame for a man to carry. Let him take revenge upon you if he wishes. There is no honor in it for me.”
Captain Will looked steadily at Boone, his broad face showing no expression. “I have finished, Wide Mouth. You have heard my words.” With that, Captain Will turned away and stalked back up the hollow to where a brave waited with his horse. Boone and Stewart stared at the low hills long after the Shawnees had disappeared. Finally, Daniel turned away and tossed a few sticks on the fire. The camp seemed dark and alien now. He was glad the night hid the sight of it from him so well.
“Well, they left us alive,” sighed Stewart. “That’s about all, Dan’l.”
Daniel gave him a weary grin. “Ol’ Will’s a real sport, John. Damned if he ain’t.”
But Stewart knew as well as Daniel that the Indians had done them no great favor. They were stranded alone in some of the roughest country a man could imagine. And they were on foot in the dead of winter, with one rifle between them and enough powder to down maybe a deer and a jackrabbit. The Shawnees didn’t have to kill them. With a little luck, nature would take care of that for them.
Stewart caught Boone’s look and laughed out loud. “Hell, Dan’l, it’s gettin’ on toward supper. There’s a pouchful of corn them Injuns dropped by the stump. Not enough for both of us, mind you, but I’ll race you to the creek for it!”
That night, Stewart slept near the dying coals of the fire. Daniel took his own blanket and walked far across the hollow into the trees. John could do what he liked, but Daniel wasn’t about to bed down in Station Camp. It wasn’t his anymore. It was a lonely stretch of trees against the side of a hill.
He hadn’t let himself think much about Flint. When the Indian told him the girl belonged to Black Knife, it took all of Daniel’s control to mask his disgust. Damnation. No wonder the Shawnees hadn’t raped her. They were saving that horror for Flint!
It was real peculiar if you thought about it, Daniel decided. The whole thing had started with a woman—Becky’s cousin Mindy. Then there had been Becky herself, and now, another woman was between him and Flint. The blood debts were piling up fast, Daniel thought. And there would be no end to it till one of them was cold and buried under the earth.
Daniel dreamed about Becky through most of the night. Then something began to intrude on his rest.
He was aware of the sound for a long time before it brought him fully awake. Opening his eyes, he lay perfectly still and listened. He knew it couldn’t be an acorn because, there weren’t any about this time of year.
Daniel sat up slowly and waited. Someone was tossing little pebbles at him, and whoever it was was a friend. Indians didn’t bother to wake you before they slit your throat.
“All right,” he finally said, in a low, clear voice, “who’s out there?”
“It’s me, Wide Mouth,” the small voice whispered.
“Blue Duck?” Daniel felt a quick surge of pleasure and relief. “Hell, girl, come on in here!” She was alive, then. He’d figured she would be, but how could you know for sure, the way things were going?
The girl slipped silently out of the brush and knelt down beside him. “I am glad you are safe, Boone. Everything happened so quickly, I could not know if….”
“Hush up and get on under here ’fore you freeze.” Boone raised the buffalo robe, and the girl came eagerly to him. She was shaking uncontrollably and her skin was as cold as ice. Boone put his arms around her and pulled her close. “Blue Duck, is that goddamn doeskin dress all you have to wear?”
“Yes, that is all, Wide Mouth. I know it is foolish to have so little protection against the cold, but there was no time to take more.”
Daniel’s expression softened. She had run from the Shawnees, damn near frozen to death and then mustered the courage to come back to Boone. She couldn’t have known what she’d find here—Black Knife’s Shawnees might have been waiting. Yet, she had done it. She had come back looking for him.
He didn’t talk to her. He held her tightly against him and let the warmth of his body flow into hers. She snuggled up to him like a child, moving her back against his chest and belly till they fit together like two spoons. He rubbed and kneaded the blood back into her arms and when she tucked her legs up to her stomach, he felt the chill in them and softly stroked her thighs.
It happened slowly, and ever so naturally. His hand was simply there, in the warmth between her thighs, right where it seemed to belong. The girl murmured at his touch, then twisted, turned to face him and came joyously into his arms. Her breath was hot against his throat; her mouth moved hungrily up to meet his. Silently, she slipped the buckskin over her shoulders and started to undo his shirt and trousers.
When he felt her nakedness against him, Boone nearly cried out, for the great and terrible emptiness within him seemed to fall away in her arms. The sorrow, the loss of everything he had worked for, was swept up in this greater need. They were alone together with little to keep them alive. But for this one moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing did. The chilly wind swept across the blanket, but neither Boone nor Blue Duck felt the cold.
When Daniel walked in at dawn with Blue Duck trailing behind, Stewart said nothing at all. One look from Boone told him the wisdom of keeping his peace.
“Well, it’s about like we figured,” commented Daniel. “Blue Duck says Cooley came ridin’ in hard with Holden on his heels, both of ’em screamin’ bloody murder ’bout Indians. Findley and the whole bunch went runnin’ for the woods.”
Stewart shook his head. “It just don’t seem like John Findley to run scared. Maybe he tried to stop ’em, Dan’l.”
“If he did,” Daniel said darkly, “he didn’t try too damn hard!” He looked soberly at Stewart. “John, you know the truth as well as I do, and we’d best face it square. We got almost no chance of makin’ it without horses.”
“We got to. There ain’t none to be had.”
“Yeah, there are too,” Daniel replied thoughtfully.
Stewart frowned, then opened his eyes wide. “Oh, now, come on, Dan’l!”
Boone grinned at his friend’s expression. “You know of any closer? Besides, they’re our, own goddamn horses, and we’re flat entitled to ’em!”
Stewart’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“By the way, John,” D
aniel added, “Merry Christmas to you. Though I think it was maybe yesterday, or the day before that.”
Chapter Fourteen
“You will come back, Wide Mouth,” Blue Duck commanded. “You will not get killed by the Shawnees and leave me here.”
Daniel laughed. He wanted to take her slim figure in his arms and to crush her to him, but Stewart’s presence held him back. “Hell yes, I’ll come back, girl. With horses, too. I got no intention of walkin’ ’round Kentucky all winter!”
“My heart and my body are yours,” she proclaimed boldly. “You have taken much of me, but there is still much more to give. I will stay here, waiting under your blanket.”
Daniel swallowed hard. “Goddamn, you aren’t makin’ it any easier to get out of here.”
“Hah! Blue Duck’s man is wise indeed,” she grinned broadly. “I am not trying to make it easy!”
But Daniel gave her a teasing wink, turned away, and trotted from the campsite into the woods with Stewart by his side.
Captain Will’s party was simple to follow. The Shawnees weren’t concerned with covering their trail. They were moving north at a leisurely pace, putting no strain on the heavily laden pack horses. On the second night out, Daniel and Stewart spotted their fires glowing by a shallow river sheltered under a high bluff. The horses, tied to a long rope stretched between two trees, were thirty yards downstream.
Daniel breathed a sigh of relief. He had half expected to find the mounts closely guarded, or so near camp that they would be hard to snatch without a fight. Boone wanted those horses, but the last thing he needed was blood between himself and Captain Will.
Stealing was one thing, killing another. The Indians had taken everything he had, but they left him a fighting chance to survive. More than that, Will had done Boone a personal favor by letting him know about Flint. A man couldn’t easily lay aside a debt like that.
While the Shawnees slept, Daniel and Stewart crept in and took five horses. It was as easy as taking foals out of a barn. They simply untied the five they wanted, walked them quietly along the bank a short distance, then mounted up and rode like hell.
Daniel Boone: Westward Trail Page 10