Slocum and the Spirit Bear (9781101618790)

by Logan, Jake

  “You ain’t goin’ nowhere!” Josiah shouted as he fired at the attackers.

  For once, Slocum was in total agreement with him. He ran to his horse, jumped in the saddle, and knocked his heels against the animal’s sides. The horse bolted forward and Slocum joined Josiah in sending hot lead into the ever-expanding fog.

  The moment the first wisp of that green smoke entered his nose, Slocum knew it was something similar to the mixture that had affected him before. One sniff was all it took to make Slocum unsteady in his saddle. Suddenly, he felt as if he was going much faster than before.

  Too fast.

  His horse was going wild.

  Slocum had a hard time seeing through the tears flowing from his stinging eyes. When he tried to aim his Colt, he couldn’t even be sure if he was lifting the damn thing high enough to hit something other than the ground. There didn’t seem to be an end to the smoke. The ground felt as if it was teetering beneath him. Slocum felt the whole world tilting crazily in one direction and then another. He grabbed his reins reflexively when he thought he might fall backward from his saddle. That’s when he realized the smoke wasn’t affecting just him.

  “Josiah!” he shouted. “Can you hear me?”

  “I . . . hear ya . . . damn it!” Josiah said between hacking coughs.

  “We need to turn back. The smoke is getting to the horses. They’re gonna throw us and bolt!”

  “To hell with—”

  As if responding to what Slocum said, Josiah’s horse whinnied and stomped the ground. Slocum couldn’t see much but he could hear the fit the horse was throwing as well as Josiah’s attempts to calm it. Finally, Josiah swore and said, “Let’s just get out of this damn smoke!”

  Slocum followed the sound of the other horse’s steps as best he could. He thought they were still mostly following their original course, but when the smoke began to clear, he saw they’d veered well away from the trail. That didn’t matter, however, since Spirit Bear and his followers were nowhere to be seen.

  “Where’d that damn Injun git to?” Josiah growled.

  Looking around for any trace of the attackers, Slocum replied, “He knows this land better than we do. Could be anywhere.”

  “So you just wanna give up, then? Those savages fire at us and hurt our young ones and you just wanna let ’em go?”

  “What would you rather do? Pick a direction and ride that way for a few miles, firing at nothing?”

  “They must’ve left a trail. Let’s find it!”

  “We’ll wait for the rest of that smoke to burn off and then that’s just what we’ll do.”

  Josiah rode up close to Slocum, holding his rifle as if he meant to use it. “Know what I think? You’re scouting for them, not us.”

  “What?”

  “None of this hell found us until you arrived,” Josiah said. “Maybe you brought it with you!”

  “You hear that crying? You hear those voices? That’s our own people. They’re hurt and scared and they’re alone. If those Indians really want to finish off this wagon train, the best time to do it would be when the men that are supposed to be protecting it go riding off half-cocked and leave the others to fend for themselves. If you want to do that, I say it’s not me who’s the one putting those good people in harm’s way.”

  Josiah chewed on those words and he chewed them hard. Every muscle in his face jumped beneath his skin. Water streamed from his eyes and nearly every pore as if something were wringing him out like a dirty rag. Before he could say anything, a familiar cry pierced the air. It was the child’s cry that had erupted when one of the mounted attackers threw a spear into the McCauley wagon.

  Neither man had to say another word. Both of them rode around the perimeter of the smoke and found their way back to the wagons. Theresa and Franco stood side by side, each holding a weapon. As Slocum drew closer, he could see them trembling like blades of grass in a stiff breeze.

  “Who’s hurt?” Slocum asked while dismounting. “Is anyone injured?”

  Franco stepped forward. He lowered his shotgun so as not to point it at Slocum. “Mrs. McCauley is inside with her children. One of them was hit by a spear.”

  “How bad?” When Franco shook his head, Slocum turned to Theresa. “How bad is it?”

  “Can’t say yet, but she’s putting up an awfully loud fuss. Sometimes that’s a good sign.”

  Slocum had seen plenty of wounded people to know Theresa had a point. More often than not, the gravest wounds were the silent ones and those who suffered from them didn’t suffer long. When someone was hollering, it meant they were still kicking. Even so, hearing a child holler that way wasn’t an easy thing to bear. “Is that Elsie?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Franco said. “The poor little thing . . . she . . .”

  Josiah lunged at the cook, grabbed the front of his shirt, and shook him as he snarled, “You hid inside yer goddamn wagon like a yellow dog while the rest of us were out here chasing away them savages?”

  Franco didn’t have the strength to meet the other man’s accusing glare.

  “I should kill you where you stand.”

  Before Josiah could make good on his threat, Theresa pointed her hunting rifle at him. “Let him go,” she said in an even tone.

  “Oh, you’re gonna turn on us now? At least them savages got reasons to attack us. They’re animals! They don’t know no better! You want to take sides with a coward?”

  “He’s no coward,” she said. “Look for yourself.”

  Josiah leaned to one side so he could look past Theresa. Behind her, a body lay sprawled on its back. It was one of the Dirt Swimmers, still wrapped in its netted cloak, lying in a pool of mud that had been created by the blood that had been spilled onto the dirt. One of his legs was caught in the spokes of a wagon wheel and an expression of wild fury was frozen on his painted face. His torso was blown open; the edges of the horrific wound charred in a way that marked it as having been created by a close-range shotgun blast.

  Franco stopped trembling when he looked at the body. A cold, haunted look showed in his eyes, which would most likely be with him for the rest of his life.

  “That one down there slipped past you men,” Theresa explained. “He meant to climb up into my wagon and . . .” She couldn’t finish her sentence, especially when James peeked out at her. “I was too slow to shoot him . . . maybe too frightened. I don’t know. But Franco stepped in for me. He stood his ground here to hold back the ones that slipped past everyone else.”

  Slocum approached the cook, placed one hand on his shoulder, and said, “You did what you had to do. Just like the rest of us.”

  “You shot that animal?” Josiah asked while nodding toward the corpse hung up in the wheel.

  Franco drew a long breath, looked down at the body, and then locked eyes with Josiah. “He’s no animal,” Franco said. “He’s a man, and yes, I shot him.”

  Josiah offered his hand, but Franco didn’t shake it. Instead, the cook took off his jacket and draped it over the corpse lying in the blood-soaked mud.

  “Where’s Ed?” Slocum asked. “Or Tom?”

  “I’ll look for them,” Franco said.

  Josiah nodded and said, “I will, too.” He then climbed back into his saddle and rode to search the tall grass alongside the trail.

  “May I?” Slocum asked as he approached Theresa’s wagon. She nodded and stepped aside so he could pull back the tarp and look in on the skinny little boy huddled among the stacks of furniture. “You all right, James?”

  The boy nodded.

  “Good. Stay put until we come for you, all right?”

  James had no problem agreeing to that order.

  Next, Slocum went to the McCauley wagon. Little Michael watched him approach and pulled his head back inside when Slocum got too close. He whispered to his mo
ther, and by the time Slocum took a look inside, Vera was already making her way toward the back of the wagon. Theirs had more space inside compared to Theresa’s, which wasn’t saying much. There was room for two narrow piles of blankets and Elsie lay on the one farthest from the opening.

  “What happened to her?” Slocum asked.

  Vera’s face was taut with rage. Her eyes burned with hatred. When she looked at Slocum, that hate flared before quickly burning itself out. “A spear came through and caught her in the arm. She was . . .” Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, but she forced them back through sheer will. When she spoke again, her voice was solid as stone. “She was a bloody mess, but the wound wasn’t too bad.”

  “I heard her screaming after the attack.”

  “That was because I was stitching her up.” Vera looked back at her little girl. Elsie was shaking with sobs that wracked her entire little body, but her eyes were bright and her face had color. “She’ll be all right,” Vera said.

  “Can you tend to others who might need it?” Slocum asked.

  “Yes. Can you find the brutes that did this to a wagon full of children?”

  Looking at the spot where the spear had torn through the wagon’s covering, Slocum had to use every ounce of strength to keep from letting out his own enraged howl. “First we collect ourselves and close ranks. After that, I assure you, we’ll make those savages answer for what they did.”

  14

  Slocum’s eyes were still burning when he searched the grass surrounding the trail for bodies. When he found Ed lying on his back, he thought the worst. He climbed down from his saddle, ready to drag the wagon master’s corpse back to his wife.

  “Take your sweet time, John,” Ed grunted. “Not like I’m about to go anywhere.”

  Quickening his pace, Slocum said, “You’re alive?”

  “Believe so. I don’t think dead men hurt this much.”

  Slocum bent down to look him over. Ed’s legs were bent at odd angles and a portion of his left rib cage was bloody as hell. As far as Slocum could tell, that was the worst of it. “What happened to you, Ed?”

  “One of them damn little fellas with the leaf coat jumped up from nowhere and stuck me with a spear or some damned thing,” he grunted while Slocum helped him straighten out his legs and sit up. Nothing seemed to be broken. “We may agree them fellas ain’t demons, but they’re still the most vicious cusses I ever ran across.”

  “I’ll have to agree with you on that.” Slocum proceeded to rip away Ed’s shirt so he could get a better look. His side was torn open by a gash less than an inch wide. The edges were jagged and blood seeped from the wound. Balling up the shirt, Slocum pressed it against Ed’s side and called out, “Vera! Come over here and see about stitching him up.”

  “What about the others?” Ed asked. “Anyone else hurt?”

  “We all got knocked around pretty good. One of the McCauley children took a grazing blow from a spear. Elsie. She’s all right, though.”

  “We should’a done a better job of protecting these folks, John. We should’ve turned back when we had the chance.”

  “Don’t worry about that now,” Slocum said.

  For once, Josiah’s timing was perfect when he shouted that he’d found Tom. Ed insisted that he go and lend a hand, so Slocum left him to be tended by Vera.

  Tom was right where he’d dropped after Slocum had punched him. Fortunately, none of Spirit Bear’s warriors took it upon themselves to finish the big man off. Although Tom seemed to be all right as he was helped to his feet, Slocum felt bad for almost forgetting the big man was there.

  “Wha . . . happened?” Tom groaned through a face that was swollen on one side.

  “Looks like you took a helluva knock,” Josiah said while propping him up. His head was bowed due to Tom’s arm being draped across his shoulders, but he managed to grin at Slocum in a way that made it clear he knew exactly how Tom had wound up there.

  Tom’s eyes were bleary and red, but at least they weren’t the blank, unseeing saucers they’d been when Slocum had been forced to put him down. “Last thing I recall, I was shouting something at John,” Tom said. “I think I was trying to let him know where the danger was and then . . . something hit me.”

  “Well,” Slocum said, “the important thing is that you’re all right. Apart from your face, were you hurt anywhere else?”

  Josiah let him go, and Tom took a few tentative steps. His knees started to buckle and his arms seemed more like thick floppy noodles, but he seemed fine otherwise. “My head’s still spinning. Is that what it felt like when you had that peyote slathered on you?”

  “More or less,” Slocum said. “But that smoke they got burning out here was something different. Stronger.”

  “I can still taste it,” Tom said while smacking his lips and spitting a juicy wad to the ground.

  By the time they got back to the wagons, everyone was gathered outside. The children were huddled by their parents and the women tended to the wounded. Franco and Hevo stood like an armed barrier between them and the rest of the world. Slocum, Josiah, and Tom wasted no time in calming the horses and helping everyone get back into the wagons.

  “We can’t stay out in the open,” Ed said. He was sitting on a crate while Vera finished stitching up his side. To his credit, he didn’t even wince.

  “And we can’t stay here,” Josiah added.

  May stepped forward, putting one of Slocum’s fears to rest since he hadn’t seen her since the shooting started. “We can’t stay here?” she said. “And where do you propose we go?”

  “West,” Ed told her. “Just like before.”

  She wheeled around to face her husband. Vera was tying off the last stitch, but May seemed more than ready to push the other woman aside and pluck all the stitches out one by one when she said, “We were lucky to make it through this alive. You got hurt and I don’t even want to think about how much worse it could have been for poor little Elsie.”

  “Turning around and going back won’t make us any safer,” Ed argued. “Once we get into Colorado, and civilization, we’ll have a home and the law to keep watch over us.”

  “Civilization,” she spat as if the word were obscene in itself. “We already had civilization before this.”

  “But not prosperity. We already discussed this, May. We’ve come too far to turn back now.”

  “We discussed it before blood was spilled.”

  “And you didn’t think those animals were ready to spill our blood before?” Ed roared. He tried to get to his feet, but was pushed back down again by Slocum so Vera could finally finish her work.

  “Fact of the matter is,” Slocum said, “you’re both right. What I said before, about you needing to press on, is still true. You all knew this wouldn’t be an easy trip. When you folks loaded your lives into them wagons, it was an all-or-nothing bet. You see a place you’d rather make a home? Fine. Plant your roots and make a home. Otherwise, you keep going until you find your home. You tuck your tails between your legs and run back East, you’ll always regret it.

  “Sure,” he continued. “It was easier to agree with that before today. But this is the real test. This is where you stop talking and start fighting to back up them words we said before. It was too late to turn back yesterday and it’s worse than that now. You honestly think those savages won’t come back even harder if they smell fear?”

  “You already sold us on this much,” Theresa said.

  “What I mean,” Slocum replied, “is that you can’t go home and you can’t stay here. Those men already have this terrain scouted. They’ve fought here, spilled blood here, picked out their favorite spots. We need to get these wagons to a safe spot. Somewhere that can be easily defended. You won’t have to stay there for long, but we should get moving away from here as soon as possible.”

 
“Once we find this spot,” May said, “how long do we stay there?”

  “Just long enough for us to track down Spirit Bear and convince him to let us pass.”

  More than a few of the others chuckled at that.

  “You think you’ll just sit him down and smoke a peace pipe?” Josiah scoffed.

  “If that works,” Slocum replied, “I’ll do it.”

  “What if it don’t?”

  “I’ll think of something,” Slocum told him. To everyone within earshot, he said, “And if it comes down to it, I’ll send that murderous lunatic to hell myself. Not just for what he did to us, but for what he and his men did to all the others like us.”

  “You will kill Spirit Bear?”

  Everyone turned toward the man who’d asked that question. Hevo stepped forward, leading his horse by a hand placed upon its back. His face and body were smeared with war paint and blood. Some of that blood must have come from the wounds he’d picked up in the last hour, but there was so much more of it that a good amount had to have come from other men’s veins.

  “Yes,” Slocum said. “But I’m no executioner. I’ll put an end to this insanity before someone else gets hurt. If that means I have to put an end to Spirit Bear himself, then that’s the way it’s got to be.”

  Hevo studied Slocum carefully while he spoke. Slowly, he nodded. “I believe you. I will also help you.”

  “I’m going with you, too,” Josiah said. “I seen enough for me to trust this Injun, but I was the first man hired on to protect these wagons and I ain’t about to let nobody else do my work for me.”

  “When we find a good spot for the wagons, you’re staying behind,” Slocum said. “It should just be me and Hevo that goes on from there.”

  “The hell I will,” Josiah said.

  “The only reason you don’t have to bury anyone right now is because you did not allow Spirit Bear to split your numbers,” Hevo said. “Spirit Bear works through fear and cunning. He has also grown proud. That can lead to the end of a warrior. He will not see what happened today as a defeat. Even now, he fills his warriors’ minds with fiery words and promises of victory to come.”