But in the meantime, he could look for a way to get down from the rimrock into the canyon. If he couldn’t find one, they would have to come up with some other idea.
But whatever it took, he and Dawn Wind would be together again before this day was over, Breckinridge vowed.
* * *
“I thought you should know, Machitehew just told me that he and his men are leaving,” Ralston said as he stood at the door of Carnahan’s cabin. “He said they were going today and taking the prisoners with them.” Ralston nodded past Carnahan toward the inside of the cabin where Dawn Wind was. “Including Wallace’s squaw.”
Carnahan’s bearded face darkened in a scowl. “The hell he is,” he declared. “I don’t care what that savage wants. I’m not finished with him and his men yet.”
Ralston shrugged and said, “He’ll probably back down when it comes to the squaw. We can divvy up the other females. But if he really wants to leave, I don’t see how you can stop him short of killing him. You don’t have anything left to bargain with, now that he’s raided that Crow village and gotten what he wanted.”
“He has other enemies, doesn’t he? I can promise that we’ll help him wipe them out, too, as long as he stays to help us with Wallace.”
“And once that’s done . . . ?”
Carnahan smiled coldly. “Well, then there won’t be any reason not to kill him, will there?”
Ralston nodded slowly. “I convinced him not to leave until after I’d talked to you. I take it I can promise him our help in any other grudges he’s carrying?”
“Promise him any damn thing in the world,” Carnahan snapped. “Just keep him here.”
He turned and went back into the cabin, closing the door firmly behind him.
Dawn Wind looked up from the corner where she sat. She felt poorly this morning. There was a dull ache deep in her belly. She didn’t know what was causing it, and she didn’t want to think too much about what it might mean.
To distract herself from all the worrisome possibilities, she said to Carnahan, “I heard what the major said. You cannot trust a Blackfoot. He will always betray you. That is why they wage war against all the other tribes.”
“I don’t trust Machitehew.” Carnahan went to the fireplace and held out his hands toward its warmth. “I’ll kill him if he tries to double-cross me. But as long as he doesn’t, I’ll make use of him.”
“And when he is of no more use, you will kill him. I heard you say so yourself.”
“What of it?” Carnahan said.
Dawn Wind cocked her head a little to the side and said, “What is it that fills a man so full of evil?”
“You’re talking about me?” Carnahan jabbed a thumb against his massive chest. He laughed. “I’m not evil.”
“You cannot think you are good, as much innocent blood as you have spilled.”
“Now, you see, you’re making two wrong assumptions there. I don’t think I’m good or evil, because those two things don’t actually exist. There’s weak, and there’s strong. That’s all there really is. And that leads right to your other wrong assumption, that there’s such a thing as innocent blood. Nobody’s innocent.”
“A child—”
“Just hasn’t had the chance to figure out which path he’s going to take. That makes him ignorant, not innocent. As for me, I knew early on that I was going to be strong. My folks taught me that. My ma was a damned whore, and my pa beat her to death for it. Then he marched all five of us kids down to the Ohio River and started knocking us in the head and throwing us in the water from a high bluff. He got to me last because I was the youngest.”
Carnahan paused and chuckled as if he were sharing some pleasant reminiscence before he went on, “I suppose the old bastard never gave any thought to the chance I might pull his pistol out of his belt, stick it in his face, and blow his brains out. I was barely big enough to lift the damn thing. But I managed. He went backward off that bluff into the river with the others. I threw the pistol in after him.”
Dawn Wind stared at him, horrified by the story. When she could speak again, she asked, “How old were you?”
“Five, I think. Maybe six. Young enough that folks didn’t question me much when I said that something bad had happened to my family and I didn’t understand it. I understood it, all right. I was the only one left, so that made me the strongest. Seemed pretty simple to me.”
“How . . . how did you . . . ?”
“How did I get by at that age?” Carnahan said. “Another family took me in. Nice, churchgoing folks. Had a daughter a couple of years younger than me. They raised me until I was fourteen. Then I cut their throats one night, had my way with the girl, and left them all behind in a burning cabin when I set out on the road. I’ve been on my own ever since. That’s the way I like it.”
She looked down at the floor and couldn’t suppress the shudder that went through her.
“Or maybe I just made all that up,” Carnahan said with a laugh. “The thing of it is . . . you don’t know, do you? But maybe you understand a little better now why you need to cooperate with me. You’ll be a lot better off in the long run that way, I promise you.”
Dawn Wind didn’t know if the terrible story he had just told her was true or not, but she was certain of one thing.
She would be better off dead than being forced to stay with Jud Carnahan.
* * *
Breckinridge made his way along the top of the canyon wall, staying well back from the rim most of the time so he wouldn’t be spotted if any of the men down below happened to glance up at just the wrong moment. He approached the rim now and then to search cautiously for some way he could descend.
It would be better if he could reach the canyon floor behind the cabins, he decided. There was more cover that way.
The canyon wall was almost sheer in most places. A few roots and rocks stuck out here and there. Breckinridge might have been able to climb down, but it was a lot more likely he would slip and fall.
A broken leg or a busted neck would ruin all of his plans. After the harrowing climb up to the top of the ridge, he’d had enough of such things for a while.
The canyon was about half a mile deep, gradually narrowing until it ended in a steep, talus-covered slope that rose to another looming cliff. Breckinridge studied the slope and thought that he might be able to get down that way, although he would have to be very careful.
If he slipped in the snow or one of the rocks turned under his foot and made him fall, he would slide a long way and bring down a bit of an avalanche with him. Such a commotion would attract attention, that was for sure.
As far as Breckinridge could see, though, that was the only possible way he could get down there to where Dawn Wind was. That meant he had to risk it.
Now it was a matter of waiting for Bitter Mouth, Gray Bear, and the other Crow warriors to arrive and launch their attack on the sentries at the canyon mouth. When Breckinridge didn’t intercept them to stop and warn them, they would go ahead with the plan.
He settled down to wait, which had never been easy for him and certainly wasn’t now. From where he was, near the back end of the canyon, he could catch only glimpses through the trees of the cabin where he believed Dawn Wind to be. He wished he could look through those log walls and make sure of her presence.
As he sat there on a spot he had brushed clear of snow, something darted past his vision at the corner of his eye. He turned his head to look closer and saw another bit of white dance past on the cold breeze.
It was snowing again, damn it.
Breckinridge watched while the snow began to fall faster and heavier. The past couple of days, the clouds had loomed darkly and ominously overhead. Gray Bear had commented yesterday that there would be more snow before this was over.
The old warrior had been right. When Breckinridge looked toward the mouth of the canyon, he saw that it was veiled in white, obscured by the falling snow.
Maybe this was a good thing, he told himself. Those se
ntries wouldn’t be as likely to see Gray Bear and the others sneaking up on them until it was too late. If more snow collected on that talus slope, though, that could make it trickier for him to get down without falling.
If he was able to rescue Dawn Wind, should he bring her back here so they could try to climb out of the canyon the same way he intended to enter it? Breckinridge pondered that question. It would be a lot harder coming back up than it would be going down, he thought. And he couldn’t bring all the captives that way, especially those little kids.
But Dawn Wind wouldn’t want him to leave them behind. He knew her well enough to be certain of that.
The best he could do might be to send her out of the canyon while he attacked Carnahan’s bunch from behind. Wiping out the renegades was really the only way to be sure that all the captives would go free.
The snowstorm made it impossible to tell what time it was. Breckinridge didn’t know how long it had taken Bitter Mouth to get back to the rest of the group, nor how much time they would need to reach the canyon once Bitter Mouth explained the plan to them. But it seemed to him like they ought to be here by now!
Breck clenched a big right fist and patted it quietly into the palm of his left hand. He was ready for action.
At first he almost didn’t hear the faint popping sounds in the distance, but then he recognized them as rifle shots and his head jerked up. The attack had started.
Breckinridge surged to his feet and slung the long-barreled flintlock rifle on his back, along with the bow and the quiver of arrows. He didn’t want to drop any of his weapons if he happened to fall during the perilous descent.
Snow swirled around him as he ran toward the slope. He could see some of the trees but not the cabins. If he couldn’t see very well, then neither could the men in the canyon. Anyway, all of them would soon be busy fighting off the attack when they realized their trap had failed to spring.
Breckinridge stepped out onto the loose rock. His heart was in his throat as he began the descent. His footing shifted underneath him and he held his breath for a second until he caught his balance again.
He hoped his friends were all right, but he knew they were willing to fight and die to rescue the captives, just like he was.
He covered five feet, then ten, as the guns continued to go off at the mouth of the canyon. Men’s startled shouts blended with the rifle blasts. The cries darted through the wind-whipped snow, here and then gone.
Breckinridge held his arms out to the side for balance as he took another step. Then one of the things he had worried about happened.
One of the rocks shifted under his weight, and he was thrown off too much for him to recover in time. His balance deserted him. He landed on his rear end in a hard, undignified fall.
But it was dignity be damned as more rocks began to slide and Breckinridge went with them. He flung his hands out, but there was nothing to grab. As a cloud of snow flew up around him, he slid out of control toward the canyon floor, taking what seemed like half the mountainside with him.
Chapter 34
Dawn Wind kept an even closer eye on Jud Carnahan after that bloody tale he had told her. She had been afraid of him before, but now she worried that he might go completely insane at any moment. She had no trouble at all believing that he had told her the truth about his background.
And even if he hadn’t, what sort of madman would make up such a terrible story as that?
Carnahan looked at her from time to time and chortled, obviously well aware that he had spooked her. He took pleasure in her fear. That was one more reason Dawn Wind’s instincts told her he had been truthful about his past.
Sometime during the day—it was difficult for Dawn Wind to keep track of the time, shut up in this cabin the way she was—Carnahan went to the door and opened it to peer down the canyon.
“I don’t understand what’s taking Wallace so long,” he said in a peevish tone. “He’s had enough time to find us.”
“When Breckinridge gets here, you will wish he had not found you.”
Carnahan swung around to glare at her. “You’re just trying to keep your hopes up, girl. He’ll stand no chance against me and my men and Machitehew’s warriors. Even if he brings some of your people with him, they’ll be outnumbered. We already wiped out most of the warriors in your village.”
“You sound proud of that.”
“Pride doesn’t have anything to do with it. The only thing that matters is strength. When word gets around the mountains about what happened, no one will dare cross me ever again. There’ll be nothing standing in the way of the empire I’m going to build up here.”
He was not only insane, he was a fool, Dawn Wind thought. If all the tribes were to join forces and rise against him, he and his men would be blown away like bits of dry grass before a strong wind.
But what if he continued to recruit more trappers and more allies from the hated Blackfeet? What if he built more cabins and fortified this canyon? There might come a time when he would be powerful enough to exert his will, at least on this part of the mountains.
If that day ever came, it would be terrible to behold, she thought.
Carnahan closed the door, which cut down on the chilly, whistling drafts, but a short time later he went back to it, as if drawn by some compulsion. He opened it, looked out, and exclaimed, “By God, it’s started to snow again!”
Dawn Wind looked past him through the door and saw the white flakes floating down thickly from the dark gray sky. If that kept up for very long, it would add several inches to the snow that was already on the ground, she thought.
She shivered as another gust of wind blew through the cabin. Carnahan stepped outside. She heard him say something to one of the others, and a moment later Ralston replied, “I’ll go on back out there and make sure they’ve got their eyes open. In this snow, it’ll be harder to see Wallace and the others coming.”
“Be careful,” Carnahan warned. “Don’t let yourself be seen, Major. If you spoil the surprise we have planned for Wallace, I won’t be happy.”
“Don’t worry about that,” the one-eyed man snapped. “I know what I’m doing.”
Carnahan just grunted, but he managed to pack contempt into the sound. Dawn Wind could imagine the angry look on Ralston’s face as the major walked off.
Carnahan came in and closed the door again. It was dim inside the cabin. The flames in the fireplace gave off some light, but there were no candles or lamps. He was a dark, hairy bulk in the shadows. Like a bear.
Dawn Wind would have almost preferred being trapped in here with a bear.
More time passed. Probably not much, but it seemed like a lot to Dawn Wind. Carnahan got up from where he had been sitting at the table and stomped over to the corner where she sat.
“On your feet, girl,” he ordered.
“What do you want? I can make coffee or food—”
“I don’t want coffee or food. I’m tired of waiting for Wallace to get here so I can settle things with him. I told you all along I wanted to keep you safe . . . but that doesn’t mean you have to be untouched.”
A chill colder than that from the wind went through her. She tried to scoot farther away from him, but she couldn’t go very far, hemmed in by the walls the way she was.
“Leave me alone,” she said. “It will profit you nothing—”
“I told you, the only profit I’m really interested in is power. You can’t stop me. Wallace can’t stop me. I’m going to do whatever the hell I want with you.”
“I . . . I am with child!” she blurted out. Some men might be disgusted by the idea of forcing themselves on a pregnant woman.
She should have known better where Carnahan was concerned. He just threw back his head and laughed.
“Do you think I care about that, girl? Now, do like I told you and stand up, or I’ll drag you over to that bedroll—”
He stopped abruptly and turned his head toward the door, then stood stock-still and listened. A grin split his bushy
face.
“Hear that?” he said. “Gunshots! Wallace is here!”
Dawn Wind heard the faint reports from the direction of the canyon mouth, all right, and with each one, her heart sank. Breckinridge had been trapped. She wanted to believe that he would fight his way free and come to save her, but the odds were against him . . .
“You and I can have our fun later,” Carnahan said. “I’m going to be in on the finish of that redheaded bastard!”
He swung around, grabbed his coat and hat from the table, and shrugged into them as he went to the door. He picked up his rifle, which was leaning against the wall, and flung the door open. Dawn Wind watched, her fear growing, as he started to step out.
Then without thinking about what she was doing, she leaped to her feet and threw herself after him, crying, “No!” All she could think about at this moment was trying to protect the man she loved from whatever horrible fate this monster had in store for him.
She leaped on Carnahan’s back and wrapped her arms around his thick neck. She tried to twine her legs around his waist, but he was too big.
Carnahan grunted, sounding more like he was annoyed than anything else. He reached up and back with his free hand, grabbed hold of her, and ripped her away from him almost effortlessly. In doing that, he half turned away from the door and threw her toward the table like a child discarding a rag doll.
Out of control and unable to stop herself, Dawn Wind crashed against the table. Carnahan whipping her toward it like that had turned her around. The edge of it rammed deep into her belly.
Pain shot through her. She tried to catch hold of the table and keep from falling, but splinters just dug into her hands and she slipped to the floor anyway. Agony made her curl into a ball.
“It’ll be even better this way,” Carnahan said from the doorway. “When you and I get together, you’ll know that Wallace is dead.”
He stepped out into the snow and disappeared, leaving Dawn Wind on the floor beside the table. She struggled to hang on to consciousness as she felt something hot and wet underneath her.
It was blood, she realized. Despair flooded her being.
The Darkest Winter Page 25