“There it is again,” said Han.
Maki turned to look over his shoulder.
“A bright flash—on the hillside where the trees come down to a point. That’s twice I’ve seen it since you made the loud noises—there it is!”
Maki saw it this time, a bright flash of light from a far distance, near the ribbon of crushed rock where the Hinchai traveled. He dismissed it as unimportant. “Light reflected from something on a Hinchai traveler. Move on, so we sleep near water tonight. We have little to drink.” He walked away jauntily, happily unaware of a serious error in judgment, an error he would regret in the days to come. Han’s concern evaporated with Maki’s, and Dorald had no concern to begin with, the two of them following their leader like obedient children.
The remainder of the day was the beginning of a nightmare from which there was no awakening.
Their route kept them in the trees, traversing hillsides into a long, brush-choked gully leading to a shallow valley filled with grass and scattered boulders. A small stream meandered through the valley, and they camped by it, a circle of three boulders sheltering them from wind and hiding them from Hinchai who might pass by on the distant road. They filled themselves with water, and ate the last of the dried meat, knowing they would reach the caverns the following morning. Appetites satisfied, and feeling secure, they lay down in the grass for a carefree nap, but each sleeping with his weapon in the custom of a Tenanken warrior. The air was cool, and they slept deeply at first before moving into dreams unremembered, and a shallow sleep near consciousness.
Maki awoke with a start. He kept his eyes closed, willing stillness, sensing the alien presence at a level he did not understand, a subtle presence, quiet, watchful and vaguely hostile. Nearby. All senses heightened, he felt for movement in the ground, sniffed the air, and listened for the slightest sound, hearing at first only Dorald’s quiet snoring next to him. The first sign was a sweet odor, which he recognized as the smell of Hinchai flesh, and then a scratching sound. Maki dared to open his eyes to a slit, remaining absolutely still despite his pounding heart. He closed them again, willing calmness, but feeling the sudden beads of sweat beginning to evaporate from his face.
A Hinchai male was with them: large, dressed in earth colors, lounging on a boulder and watching them sleep, and on a hip was strapped one of the smaller pointing weapons Maki had seen fired with one hand. Maki visualized his position, and the weapon near his hand. With a distraction he could—
“Okay, Boys, sleepy time is over. Time to get up.”
Maki groaned softly, as if bothered in sleep, but Dorald’s snoring cut off sharply and he grumbled.
“Jeezus, God, if you aren’t a sight. I thought all the injuns had cleared out, if that’s what you are. COME ON, GET UP!”
Dorald and Han awoke with a start while Maki opened his eyes to stare balefully at the stranger and roll slightly to one side to cover his weapon lying in the grass. There was no reaction; the Hinchai hadn’t seen it. Now Maki’s companions were on their feet, grasping weapons, and the Hinchai’s hand moved in a blur, appearing with a black weapon leveled at all of them.
“Don’t do anything stupid, fellas, or Mister Colt here will give you a terrible bite.”
Maki spoke harshly in the Tenanken tongue. “Relax your weapons before he kills us all, and move apart from each other. My weapon is hidden beneath me, and when I move to shoot it is a signal for you to strike!”
“Shut up! White renegades actin’ like injuns, Christ, those people take baths. Your stink is enough to knock a man out! Tattered rags and spears and—hey, big guy, where did you get that nice, shiny axe? Seems to me I got a report about that, along with a missing rifle. Any of you see a nice, new rifle around here? Henry, I believe it was—lever action. What about you, yellow eyes; seen anything?” The Hinchai looked straight at Maki, and slid down from the boulder he’d been sitting on, weapon level and steady.
Maki shook his head, leaning on one elbow, the weapon hard against his side.
“No? Sure ain’t talkative, are you? None of you? Well, we can get into the details back at the jail, if you’ll just follow me, gentlemen. My wagon is waiting, and thank God you can ride in back and not up with me. Whew! We’ve just got to get you boys into a tub and scrub you up. I keep a clean jail.”
Han had moved away from Maki a couple of steps, and Dorald a few steps beyond him, the axe hanging limply in one hand. His teeth were showing in a kind of death-grin, and the dangerous glint had returned to his eyes, telling Maki the big Tenanken had reached the limit of self-control. Dorald took two tentative steps towards the Hinchai, and the blue-black hand weapon swung around to point directly at his stomach.
“Now don’t get stupid, man! This here’s a forty-four, and your size won’t do you a bit of good. One shot, and you are a dead person. Now you all quit your movin’ around, and get together again.” The Hinchai’s voice was low and ominous as he motioned them together with the hand weapon. “It suddenly occurs to me I’m lookin’ at Jake’s critters, and damned if’n he wasn’t pretty accurate. All the thievin’s been goin’ on around here, and it turns out to be white folk; I think you have a lot to answer for, so let’s get on with it. Over here, now, all of you.” The Hinchai turned slightly away from Maki, motioning them to one side.
Maki slid his weapon out from under him in the tall grass, grasping it in one hand and sitting up as if to stand.
Han’s hand slid down the shaft of his standing spear, grasping it lightly with two fingers.
The muscles in Dorald’s right arm suddenly knotted as he gripped the axe tightly. He took another step towards the Hinchai, staring into the black maw of the hand weapon.
“I’d rather take you in alive, but I’m not particular in your case, mister,” said the Hinchai.
Han’s arm moved in a blur, straight up, then over in an arc, the spear appearing as if by magic in the chest of the Hinchai. The man grunted, surprised, turning to face Han as Maki pulled his weapon to his shoulder and fired in one motion, gratified when the man’s body slammed back into a boulder and blood exploded from his mouth in a bright gush splattering his clothing in red. Dorald moved in for the kill, swinging the axe high over the wide-eyed Hinchai who looked up at him and gurgled, “Who the hell are you people?”
The axe descended, the impact a sickening crunch simultaneous with the explosion of the Hinchai’s hand weapon.
Dorald leaped backwards, leaving his axe embedded in the shattered remains of the Hinchai’s skull, turning slowly to face Han and Maki, clutching at his stomach with one hand, eyes sad. He held out a hand to them, saying nothing, taking one staggering step, and then Maki saw the blood oozing out between his fingers. Another half step, then Dorald groaned, and sank to his knees, grabbing his stomach now with both hands. Tears trickled from his eyes and down his face as Han and Maki knelt before him, helpless in the sight of a horrible wound, putting their hands on his shoulders. Before their eyes, his skin was suddenly ashen and turned cold to the touch.
“I’m sorry,” said Maki. “You fought well, and killed our enemy. This is committed to The Memories, and the Tenanken will remember your deed in the Visions. Forever.”
Dorald grinned weakly, eyes glazing over as he whispered his answer. “I crush Hinchai skull good,” he said, and then his eyes rolled upwards, a belch of black blood issuing forth from his mouth as he toppled forward so quickly they could not hold him up. His face hit the ground with a thud, and it was only then that Maki saw the fist-sized hole in Dorald’s back, streaming blood past a shattered array of bone and nerve fibers that had once been a spine. Maki turned his face from the sight as Han moaned softly.
“The Hinchai has killed him. My friend is gone.” Han’s voice was filled with grief, and Maki felt sudden guilt at the times he had wanted to be rid of the big Tenanken. He put an arm around Han’s shoulders, and they sat by the body for a moment. “He was my friend, too,” said Maki, partially believing it. “He wanted to be a warrior, Han, and at th
e end he was, with us at his side. Now he is in a better place. We will grieve for him, then do what we must do. Whatever happens, Anka or anyone else in the caverns must not know about this. We must bury the bodies quickly out of sight, with no evidence of digging.”
“I have no ochre,” said Han.
“There’s red clay near the canyon rim, and flowers. I have a little food left.”
“We’ll have to move him there.”
And the Hinchai. We dare not leave anything here.”
Han jerked the axe from Hinchai bone, then his spear. “I will cut the branches.” He scurried away towards the trees.
Maki surveyed the disaster site. The big Hinchai was sprawled over a boulder, the contents of his skull splattered over the rock, eyes open and staring at the sky. Maki twisted the hand weapon from his fingers, fiddling with it until he understood recent Memories, then removed the belt and holster from the body, replaced the weapon protectively and buckled the assembly around his own waist. He dragged the Hinchai from the boulder, and used a bunch of grass to wipe away the trail of goo left behind, while Han chopped furiously to bring down four, small trees.
It was late afternoon before they had finished making a simple travois for each body out of limbs and soft roots covered with fir boughs. Han insisted on pulling his friend, and started out before Maki was even ready. Maki dragged the Hinchai unceremoniously to the travois, flopped him on it, chambered a new projectile into his pointing weapon and began the long pull back to the canyon.
There will be consequences, thought Maki. The Hinchai will be missed, and then a search party. They must not find the body; Pegre will relay the story directly to Anka, and a connection can be made to the return of his son. There must be no suspicion before Hidaig’s arrival. Put the bodies in different places, under rock where they can never be found. The Hinchai has simply disappeared, gone away for a while to another settlement. By the time they look for him, it will be too late.
Maki felt assured by his analysis, but there was an important flaw in the logic, for he had neglected to ask himself how the Hinchai had found and then intercepted them in their camp. Back near that camp, the Hinchai’s wagon and two horses still waited on the road, a telescope pulled out to full length across the driver’s seat.
* * * * * * *
They reached the edge of the canyon near dusk, panting from the uphill pull, and near exhaustion. A spine of rock ran up the hillside like the dorsal of some great, buried fish, rotted and falling down in places, the ground around it covered with debris. They dumped the Hinchai body into a wide crevice, and threw rocks in after it until the crevice was filled. But Dorald was special, and they searched carefully for a place until Han called out, “Over here, and I can see the canyon. Maki, it’s perfect for him.”
Maki climbed the hill. Near the end of the rock spine was a deep depression shaped like a tub, bottom covered with a thin layer of soft earth washed in by rains. He studied it, then said, “We can build a roofed cairn over him, then cover it with rocks. We’ll lay him thus, so he faces the rising sun and his spirit can meet it for the last journey. See, those flat rocks there for the roof of the cairn.”
Han nodded solemnly. There were no tears, now, as he helped to prepare his friend for a transition to the everlasting life of a spiritual world without earthly pain and suffering. He struggled with Maki to pull the travois up the final hill, and unloaded the big Tenanken gently into the rocky depression. Using red clay and saliva, he decorated Dorald with the marks of a warrior, and crossed his arms over his chest with the fingers of both hands curled around the big axe. Into the depression they put two small bags of food within easy reach, then covered their companion with flowers picked from the hillside. The cairn went up quickly, rectangular-shaped with a flat roof nearly touching the thick chest, a miniature tomb for one warrior, and then they piled rocks in random fashion until the depression was filled to the brim, as one with the entire outcropping.
The sun was setting when they finished, and they went to bed hungry and sorrowful.
When they awoke in the morning, it was with sudden knowledge that the spirit of Dorald had flown into the sun. Han wept. Maki stood with him a while by the rock-covered tomb, and then they packed, the Hinchai weapons going into Maki’s long pack. They made the short walk to the caverns along the bluff and down steep shelves past the place where Baela perched in a tree, watching them. The sky was dark blue, a gentle breeze cooling them along the canyon. A day Dorald would have loved.
When they neared the entrance, Anka suddenly appeared and hurried to meet them, opening his arms and emotionally embracing his son. “You’ve come home,” he said, choking back tears. “I thought I’d lost you, but you’ve come home. Let me get you something to eat, and then there is much to talk about.”
As they went inside, scavenger birds had begun to circle above the bluff at the end of the canyon.
CHAPTER NINE
SUNDAY
Pete kept nodding off during the sermon. His head would droop, then snap up, eyes darting around to see if anyone had noticed. Bernie noticed. When the service was over, they filed out of the little, white church, said their good mornings and made polite conversation about the weather before returning to the wagon. Pete boosted her up, and Bernie clambered in grunting, fanning herself with the church program in noon heat. They drove out of town, staying on the road for a mile before turning off into two ruts for a rough, uphill ride, the wagon bouncing so hard at one point that Bernie turned and said, “One more like that one, and you can deliver your own child right here.” Pete grinned at her, and slowed a little.
When they reached the top of the hill the ruts became a road again, for they had taken a shortcut that would soon be graded as well. It was the view from the top of the hill they had endured a bouncy ride for: the little valley below, surrounded by a ring of trees, and beyond that the cliffs and brush-filled canyons leading to a high plateau covered with grass and flowers. The ranch was centered within the trees, buildings made from rough-hewn logs, the first poles in place for a fence.
“Ours,” said Bernie.
Pete took her hand. “Wish your folks could’ve seen it. You said they always wanted a place like this.”
“Daddy’d be satisfied that one of us got it. He never really wanted anything for himself, but momma did. I don’t want to think about it. Let’s get down there, and get some work done. You hungry yet?”
“Didn’t you hear my stomach in church?”
“Nope. The snoring was too loud for that. How does biscuits and sausage sound?”
The wagon lurched forward. “Good enough for a fast ride downhill. Hang on!”
Bernie yelled all the way down the hill.
They unloaded cans of varnish and large brushes from the back of the wagon, and hauled it all inside the big house facing west. Pete varnished a floor while Bernie cooked breakfast over the big cast iron stove, and they ate together on a small table in the kitchen. The rest of the afternoon Pete varnished while Bernie sewed and hung curtains in the upstairs bedrooms. Supper was cold meat, potatoes and coffee, and as the sun was setting Pete lit the lamps before they went out to the porch to sit in matching rocking chairs, custom ordered from Quincy, and watch the evening come.
Bernie sighed. “Look at that red, red hill. Did you ever notice how the birds get quiet just as the sun turns red? I wonder if the color has something to do with it?”
“Who knows? For some people it means drinkin’ time. Business usually picks up about now.” Pete rocked in his chair, and took a big swallow of coffee.
They sat in silence for a minute, then Bernie said, “Did you ever think you’d have something like this? You know, when you were living with Savas, or even before, in Greece? Did you ever think you’d have a big house in a valley all to yourself?
Rocking together in growing darkness, watching the stars come out, Pete considered the lie he’d lived, and decided to continue. “We talked about it some. The old man told me I could get whate
ver I wanted or be whatever I wanted to be if I worked hard enough. After a thousand times of hearing it, I guess I believed him. Sure, I wanted a nice house someday.”
“Momma dreamed about having a place like this, but daddy was never able to give it to her. Poor daddy, he tried so hard and loved us so much, but he never did very well. He just didn’t have the business smarts like you do, Pete.”
“But he was a good man.”
“Oh, yes, he was a very good man, and I learned a lot of things from him, like how to respect everyone’s dignity and never look down on anyone.”
“Good thing for me he taught you that.”
Bernie looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, just the way things happened when I first came to town: the stares, the jokes about the way I looked and talked, the way the women hugged their kids to them when I came near. Then I saw you in the store that day, and you were laughing with the clerk about a potato with a strange shape. I thought to myself you were the prettiest thing I’d ever seen, and my heart nearly stopped when you turned and smiled at me.”
“It was easy; no man had ever looked at me that way before. Your face lit up like a lantern. By the way, that potato looked like a giant penis.”
“All I noticed was you.”
Bernie reached over, and grabbed his hand. “Still feel that way?”
“You bet.” He squeezed her hand and held it until darkness fell, and he went inside briefly to get a cup of coffee. When he returned, Bernie was rocking gently in her chair, both hands on top of her tummy, smiling the contented smile of a woman feeling the stirrings of life inside her body.
“What was Savas really like? Everyone in town was kinda afraid of him, and wouldn’t go near that old cabin of his. If anyone’d know him, you would. I only saw him a couple of times when he came to town.
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