Crows & Cards

by Joseph Helgerson

  But then the gust died off and I couldn't make out the tail end of his threat. When the wind came back next, it'd swung around behind me, and I figured there was a chance it'd carry my voice to Chilly without my having to convince my feet to budge an inch. That was all the encouragement I needed to bawl out in a hurry, "Chilly! This way! I got Ho-John! Right here! Can you hear me? If you can..."

  My voice was hoarse by the time the wind shifted away, but at least my plan appeared to be working, 'cause that lantern light started growing a touch bigger and Chilly was answering me. "That you, boy? Just stay right where you are. I'm coming. Don't you move a foot."

  Then the wind sashayed back my way, which meant it was my turn again to cut loose. "Over here!"

  Back and forth we went as the wind played its tricks, blowing this way and that and occasionally dying to a whisper. Chilly and his lantern drew closer and closer, while the night kept on swallowing more and more black till it felt about to smother my soul—if Chilly didn't find it first. The only thing that kept me going was the thought that Ho-John might be getting away, so at least some good would come of my suffering an end too terrible for words.

  "Consarn it, boy! Where'd you get to?"

  Mixed up with all his bullyragging was the occasional wind-carried sound of the hounds far and gone away, which gave Chilly pause and made him yell for me all the louder, his temper just shaking and blasting, 'cause even with a lantern he couldn't follow the deer trail we'd been on and kept bumbling into thickets that tore at his sleeves and pants. Nearer he prowled, till he wasn't but twenty or thirty yards distant. His raging face and tangled hair were flashing in and out of the light as he swung the lantern to and fro.

  "Boy!" he bellowed. Then lower, to himself, he added, "When I get my hands on you..."

  Still as a moth, I pressed against the trunk of that nearby hickory and tried to shut my eyes, though—wouldn't you know—this time they wouldn't close for nothing. What's more, my lower jaw set to trembling, my hands hung limp and useless at my sides, and something tinier than a cricket was chirping in my throat. I could feel a faint coming on fast, but before it hit, the wind whipped around one more time, bringing with it the hell-bent yipping of hounds. It sounded as though the chase was over and they'd treed someone.

  That stopped Chilly cold. He spun around twice right where he stood, not knowing what to think about the change in the dogs' barking. Into the wind he shouted, "Boy!" And then, "Ho-John!"

  I squeezed against that tree trunk for all I was worth. Chilly had slogged so close by then that I hadn't dared a peep for several minutes. And then, maybe because Chilly's gold watch was still ticking in my vest pocket, my luck held and the wind kept right on carrying the yelping of the hounds to Chilly.

  "If I ever..." Chilly threatened. "Boy!" Holding the lantern high, he inched all the way around again, peering into the gloom as he called, "You know what needs doing. Come on in now." He kept turning. "Won't nothing bad happen to you." Then under his breath, "Excepting when I get my hands on you."

  And all the while the hounds went wilder and crazier till Chilly couldn't stand listening to them no more and shouted, "Urgggg!" Giving up on me, he started punching his way back out of the thicket I'd lured him into. He was heading back toward the dogs.

  The wind held steady for another couple of minutes—going on centuries—pulling Chilly away from me. And off to the west and south, a thunderstorm reared its head, sparking the clouds up good and whipping the wind even harder. I hung on to the hickory, waiting, waiting, and when Chilly was a good hundred yards gone, I bolted for the chief and princess. By the time I caught up to them, the drizzle had turned to sheets of rain and there wasn't nothing but falling water to be heard. It was such a lovely sound and the downpour had soaked me so completely that I figured it was safe to cry. Nobody'd notice.

  And so I did, 'cause I was so relieved to have done something right and lived to tell about it. Just then, a stab of lightning turned the woods into daylight, showing me the chief and princess holed up under a tree. Standing right beside them was a third person who was so large and round in shape that it looked sort of like Ho-John.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  I NEAR JUMPED INTO HO-JOHN'S ARMS but held off, not sure if my eyes had been playing tricks on me. That flash of lightning hadn't lasted but two beats before everything flicked back to black. What if I'd only been seeing what I wanted to? Maybe someone else was blocking the trail we'd been headed down. I was busy wishing for a white stallion to hop aboard and thunder away on when a second stab of lightning split open the night, revealing Ho-John right where I'd thought he'd been—half drowned beside the princess and chief.

  "But the dogs..." I sputtered, flopping an arm in the direction Chilly had gone. 'Course, by then the second flash had faded and nobody saw my gesture.

  "I found them a real raccoon in a tree," Ho-John said from the darkness, "and left them to it." He shuffled forward a step to drop a hand on my shoulder. "Seems you've done yourself proud all over the place."

  Hearing that swelled me up, till I had a thought. "But how'd you ever get away from Chilly?"

  "Seems the back of his head ran into a tree branch," Ho-John said. "And when he came to, me and the dogs were gone."

  I think there might have been a smile to his voice, though I was only guessing—I'd never heard one there before and in the dark I couldn't be sure.

  "And now where you going?" I asked.

  "Circling back to town. I know where there's a skiff might get me across the river."

  "On such a night as this?" I gulped. "On your own?" I couldn't fathom taking a tippy boat over deep waters in the dark with the wind just a-whipping and rain coming down like needles. But I seen that he meant to do it, which didn't leave me but one thing to say, though I wished I could have managed to get it out a little louder and braver sounding than I did. "I could go with you."

  "Skiff's only got room for one," Ho-John answered, which sounded like a barefaced lie and for which I was eternally grateful.

  "Well, at least let me give you some good luck."

  "You got some to spare?"

  Pulling Chilly's gold watch out of my vest pocket, I pressed it into Ho-John's thick hand.

  "What's this?" he asked, deathly serious.

  "A gift from Chilly."

  Then came a pause. In the dark I couldn't tell Ho-John's mood, but I got a feel for it when he said defiant-like, "'Bout time he gave me something." Then he started talking faster. "You take care of yourself, Zeb. And mind you stay out of trees. There won't always be a Ho-John around to pretend you're not there."

  "I'm beholding to you for that," I answered, choking a little on the words.

  "Not anymore you're not."

  Then the time for jawing was done. Ho-John started off toward the river, which had to be the riskiest possible direction for him to head, except that's where the skiff must be. I heard his shackles rattling and knew he wasn't going to sneak past anyone too easy, nor outrun anyone either, not unless it was Goose Nedeau. And how handy could they be for swimming if his boat got swamped?

  "Wait," I said. "What about those chains?"

  "What chains?" he answered, loping away.

  I'm guessing that was the power of freedom talking, which left me convinced that he'd find some way to shed his irons, 'specially now that he had Chilly's watch. The last I saw of him was thanks to a lightning bolt. He was dodging and weaving through the woods fast as he could move.

  When I turned to ask the chief and princess if they thought he'd make it, I found them moving off in the opposite direction. I had to run to catch up, and soon as I did, I latched on to the pony's tail as if it was a lifeline. My plans may have been sketchy, but I knew without a doubt that they didn't include being left alone in those woods.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  WE PUSHED ON THROUGH THE WOODS for most of an hour, which stretched out longer than a lifetime of pins and needles. Every step of the way it felt as though Chilly was going t
o grab me by the hair any second and drag me back to the inn. But when the storm eventually veered away to the southeast, pulling the rain with it, and we still hadn't been caught, I dared to feel a little tug of hope.

  Whenever there was a fork in the trail, the princess picked the way that took us farther and farther from any sign of civilization. It wasn't long before church bells from town sounded tiny as harness bells over a hill. We didn't stray close to any cabins, though once I saw a candlelight shimmering through wetted-up branches and another time I heard voices arguing about who had to sleep in the loft and a third time we hit some wood smoke that smelled so cozy and homelike that I nearly sat down right there.

  Finally the trail met up with a meadow. That's where we stopped, right on the lip of the woods.

  The first thing the princess did was order me to help her pull a travois out from its hiding place under some cut spruce boughs. Shaped like a V, the travois was built of two lodge poles lashed together with rawhide. Tepee skin had been stretched across the poles to make a carrying shelf. Everything the chief and princess owned in the world appeared to be heaped on that sled, and kind of slapdash too, as though done in a hot-coal hurry.

  It took all three of us to hook up the contraption. The point of the V was tied to the pony's back and the other two ends were left to drag on the ground, sort of like a wagon without wheels.

  Satisfied that everything was in place, the princess said to me, "We wait."

  "For anything in particular?" I asked.

  "Birdman."

  If she was going to dole out a pinch of this and a dash of that, I decided not to give her the satisfaction of asking for more, though I did at least mumble a thank-you for saving my skin.

  "Your worthless skin?" she asked.

  "That's the one," I agreed, which earned me a chuckle from the princess, along with a nod, as if to say, You're welcome. I was encouraged enough to ask something that'd been eating away at me since the inn. "Where'd all them aces come from?"

  My question broadened her smile enough for me to see her teeth, which told me I could repeat myself till the cows came home—she wasn't going to answer.

  So there we waited for Birdman, whose very name dropped the jitters on me. I couldn't help but picture some fierce Indian warrior painted green or blue with black feathers glued all over creation.

  Somewhere in there a breeze swept the last of the clouds away and stars came winking out. A touch of moon drifted along. Not much, just enough to help see anything that was shiny.

  Before long a shiny head did come bouncing across the meadow toward us, but it wasn't attached to a green or blue or feathered brave. It was mostly bald and belonged to the Professor, who was riding a fine bay. Soon as I recognized him, I spun about, searching for a tree to climb up or hole to crawl down, 'cause naturally I figured that Chilly had sent him after me. But he doused my fears quick by calling out, "Hold your horses, Zeb. There ain't nothing to combust about."

  Not till then did I catch sight of Venus and Aphrodite, clucking and pecking inside wooden cages that were draped over the horse's flanks. Seeing those chickens, I finally pieced together who Birdman was—the Professor, of course.

  There was a rolled-up blanket and carpetbag tied behind his saddle, so it appeared he really wasn't hunting for runaways but was on the move just like us. Doing my level best not to act surprised, I said with a voice that had a touch of squeaky door to it, "What brings you—" Clearing my throat, I tried again. "What brings you calling, Professor?"

  "The chief."

  "You've got doings with each other?" I'm afraid my voice floated upward on me.

  "We better have," the Professor said with a chuckle. Growing serious, he added, "Zeb, I'm thinking you'd be smart to steer clear of Goose Nedeau's place for a decade or two."

  "I reckon I can manage that," I said. "They done looking for me yet?"

  "Not hardly," the Professor said. "Chilly came rampaging back to the inn just as I was taking my leave. Goose's hounds were howling at his heels, and he aimed to put their noses to the ground as soon as he could find someone to handle 'em. So you best keep right on going. From what I heard Chilly shouting, that's what Ho-John's doing."

  "Where you headed now?" I asked, ripe for suggestions.

  "Guess I'm pointed California way. Going to get me some of that gold lying around out there."

  "Sounds like a long ride," I pointed out, kind of hoping he'd stay with us in case Chilly showed.

  "I was figuring on using a boat."

  "How you affording such a thing as that?"

  The princess answered that question by dipping into her father's beaver-pelt bundle and digging out Chilly's diamond pin, gold dice, and gold cigar clipper, along with a handful of cash. She pressed all of it into the Professor's hands.

  "So it was you behind all them aces?" I cried out, finally understanding how the chief had come by the winningest hand in the history of the West.

  "'Fraid so," the Professor confessed. "Me and the chief had it all planned out. Not that the chief wasn't grateful for your help, but when it comes to his medicine bundle, he's not about to take any chances. So I agreed to stack some decks for him. I do believe that Chilly's going to be seeing them aces till his dying day, which is why I'm on the road. Once him and Goose get a chance to put their heads together, they'll figure out my part in it. Adios, Zeb. And mind what I said about Chilly Larpenteur and your neck. He ain't the kind of man with a short memory and he ain't no dummy."

  Giving his horse a giddyup, he left, cutting back toward town and a steamer pointed toward New Orleans, then a clipper headed for San Francisco, with maybe a stop or two in South America on the way. I reached out to tug on his pant leg and beg to go along, but I came up short when I spied the Professor's chickens taking aim at my hand with their beaks. Gathering myself, I was about to overcome my fear of birds and try again when something else occurred to me: hadn't I once felt this same kind of tingly excitement over the prospects of hooking up with Chilly Larpenteur? Guessing that taking off with another gambler couldn't be called anywhere near smart, I stepped back, letting the opportunity pass. So maybe I'd learned one lesson. The question was, how many more did I have waiting ahead of me?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  SOON AS THE PROFESSOR WAS GONE, the chief had himself a powwow with his pouch and daughter, who argued back till he got short with her.

  "We'll take you home now," she announced, sounding sulky about it.

  "Come again?" I said.

  "You heard me," she grumbled.

  "And just how do you know that's where I want to be going?" I came back, snippy-like 'cause I wasn't about to fess up that home was exactly what I'd been pining for. The only other option I seemed to have was throwing myself on my Great-Uncle Seth's mercy, which remained about as appealing as when I'd first met Chilly. I just couldn't sell myself on it.

  "The crow in my father's pouch looked inside you." She sounded awful put out, as if there didn't seem to be any end to the places that crow spirit could see.

  "He's sure it was me?" I asked, shocked that not even my innermost feelings were safe from that bird.

  "Yes," she complained. "And he saw us lead you home too."

  "He can look into the future?"

  "And the past. He doesn't give us any rest at all. He says we take you every step of the way home. To get the picture of the two-humped horse from your mother."

  "Why's that thing so goldurn important?"

  "My father wants to take it with him when he dies, as a gift for his father, whose name was Two Humps."

  "Two what?"

  But I'd heard her right. It turned out that Two Humps had got his name on account of a vision he had of a horse with two humps that led his youngest son—meaning the chief—home. Except that it had never happened, leastways not when the chief was a boy, which made him ashamed as a blue goose, what with all the other children rawhiding him day and night and claiming his pa's real name should have been No Humps. The chief
and his pa had words about it too, the strongest kind of words, but Two Humps stuck with his vision to his dying day.

  The princess said that a bunch of years passed. The chief grew into a man and held on to his father's sacred medicine bundle, partly 'cause nobody else wanted it and partly to prove that he believed his father's vision, even though some doubts had begun to sprout here and there. He had himself a vision too—of a crow who helped him find things. Just like his father's, his vision failed to come true. Oh, he went and bagged himself a crow and put its leg in a pouch, just the way the village elders told him to, so that the crow spirit would have a place to stay if it came to visit. But nothing come of it. The chief couldn't find dark on a moonless night, or so his neighbors claimed. He tried to be philosophical 'stead of bitter about all this, but he never gave up either. Anytime he saw a crow, he tried to strike up a conversation, and if a stranger passed through the village, he was sure to ask for news of a horse with two humps.

  More time spun by. A white-man's sickness hit their village, wiping out neighbor after neighbor till Standing Tenbears got named chief for just surviving. Somewhere in there he grew old and his eyesight began to fail, making him take a young wife to help him see. According to the princess, they had a beautiful daughter who made them happier than sunrise on the prairie. When the princess was eight or nine, a bearded man came looking for people willing to travel with him to meet the kings and queens of Europe. The chief asked if there were any two-humped horses over there. Why, only all over the place, the bearded man said. When the chief asked about talking crows, he learned they were common as boots.

  That settled it. He was headed to Europe with his wife and daughter, to prove that his vision, and his father's, had been true. But there wasn't anything to recommend the trip from the start. The princess's mother got sick and died on the crossing, and then the gent who'd brought them over disappeared somewhere in France, taking everything but the chief's spirit pouch and the sacred medicine bundle of his father's. He'd have probably grabbed them too if the chief hadn't always slept with them at his side.