He would show no pity.
Pete screamed again, firing as he charged, warriors scattering and falling before him. By the time he reached Bernie the rifle was empty; he threw it to the ground and snatched up a war club. So many years since he’d had such a weapon in his hands, but it felt comfortable and natural, and when the first warrior came at him with a spear he parried delicately, then swung by spinning his entire body, shattering the Tenanken head in an explosion of gore. The three remaining warriors fled around the side of the house as he reached Bernie and knelt beside her, vaguely aware of Jake’s puffing arrival to stand guard behind him.
“I’m here,” he said, panting. “It’s all right, now.”
Her face was bloody and swollen. She rolled over on her back, and held out her arms for him, tears gushing over her face. “Oh, Pete, they’ve hurt the baby. I have a terrible pain inside me, and the baby isn’t kicking. Oh, Pete—our child—”
“It’s all right,” he said. “We’ll take care of you. Relax.” As he spoke, his head swiveled, searching for Hidaig. Jake seemed to read his mind, and knelt beside him.
“The fight’s moved to the bunkhouse, but they can’t get in. You want to find someone, I’ll stay with Bernie, Pete. I’ll take care of her for you.”
I’ve brought them to this. I led them out of the caverns and down here to die. I am responsible for this. Pete grabbed up the war club, and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Jake reached out to hand him something.
Two sticks of dynamite, and a small box of matches.
“Something for the cause,” said Jake.
Bernie groaned, and clutched at her belly. Jake looked down at her. “If I have to, I’ll die for her, Pete. Go on, now.”
Pete grabbed Jake awkwardly in a hug, then turned and headed towards the bunkhouse, where warriors still pounded at the heavy door. He ran within twenty meters of the milling crowd, then knelt in the tall grass and struck a match. The fuses on the dynamite were incredibly short, and he had no experience with explosives.
The warriors had built a small fire by the bunkhouse, feeding it with loose scraps of wood, carrying flaming pieces over to the building to start a much bigger fire. A warrior tending the fire looked up and saw Pete kneeling in the grass. When he saw the match his eyes widened, he stood up, spear in hand, and walked deliberately towards Pete. He had walked only a few steps when he stopped with a sudden shudder. A small hole appeared in his chest, oozing blood. The warrior stood there, looking confused, and then his eyes rolled upwards; he sank to his knees, and toppled over on his side.
Now Pete heard it, the crackle of gunfire, off to his right, the whine of bullets coming in like bees. Screams. Two more warriors staggered and fell by the bunkhouse. Pete lit the fuse of the dynamite, watched the fuse burn all the way down, then flipped it towards the bunkhouse and dropped to the ground. The dynamite exploded in the air, knocking everyone hard to the ground within a radius of twenty meters. For a moment Pete could hear no sound except a high-pitched ringing; he stood up groggily, gripping the war club, stumbling forward.
The warriors panicked, darting away from him around the bunkhouse and across the grassy field towards the blackened and smoldering canyon beyond. Gunfire was continuous; Pete looked to his right, saw Ned and the others kneeling in a line by his fence, aiming and firing with careful deliberation. One by one, the warriors fell under rifle fire and lay still. Pete trotted after them, looking for Hidaig, finding Baela instead, firmly in the grip of Maki. The traitorous son of Anka was dragging her with him towards the canyon, a rifle in his hand. Pete changed direction and went after them, trotting faster until he was running. They hadn’t seen him, hurrying to escape the hail of bullets which somehow avoided them, not looking back but ahead to where the steep ridge came down to meet the grass. And there, waiting for them on the ridge, a spear in his hand, stood Hidaig. Grinning.
Pete gained ground with each step. By the time they reached the ridge he was only a few meters behind them. They scrambled up to the flat rock slab where Hidaig stood, spear leveled.
“Kill the Hanken slime!” screamed Hidaig.
“She comes with me!” yelled Maki. “I promised her—”
“I said kill her! Now!” Hidaig drew back his arm with the spear.
Maki twirled, getting himself between Hidaig and Baela, and pushing the girl to the ground.
Hidaig’s arm thrust forward, his spear piercing Maki in the throat. Maki let out a gurgling cry, releasing Baela and his rifle, grabbing the shaft of Hidaig’s spear with both hands and yanking it from him. As life pumped out of him, shock came; he teetered on the sharp edge of the ridge, then fell off it and spun lazily to the ground meters below.
Hidaig grabbed Baela’s hair in one hand, the rifle in the other, stepped forward and put one foot firmly on the girl’s stomach to hold her down. Pete roared, and charged up the ridge, swinging the club up in a high arc over his head.
Hidaig calmly leveled the rifle at Pete, a horrible grin on his face—and pulled the trigger.
The explosion was loud enough to drown Baela’s scream, the breech of the weapon blowing apart and sending splinters of steel and brass upwards into Hidaig’s eyes and face. As he staggered backwards, reaching for his face, Pete’s club came down with terrible force to destroy his head from crown to brain stem with a sickening plop. He toppled off the ridge to join Maki in the dirt below as Pete pulled Baela to her feet.
“Okay?” asked Pete.
“Okay,” she said, but her eyes were filled with tears. Below them, Ned and the others were advancing across the grass, and there was one more rifle shot.
No prisoners were taken that day.
“Bernie’s hurt; I’ve got to get back to her. Come with me.” Pete gave Baela’s hand a squeeze, then rushed towards the house. Baela hesitated, then started after him, but halfway to the house she changed direction, heading towards the barn.
Bodies were scattered in the grass, and Pete smelled death. Tenanken were piling out of the bunkhouse, a few following him as he rushed past. Ahead, a small crowd had gathered around Bernie, still on the ground by the porch, and an awful thought crept into Pete’s mind. What if I lose her? What’s the sense of all I’m doing if I lose my wife and child? But he was relieved to find her alive and conscious, managing a weak smile from her battered, swollen face when he bent over her, and then she burst into tears. He knelt down, and took her hands in his.
“I hurt so bad inside, Peter. I hurt so bad.”
“It’s all right now, hon. Lots of people here to take care of you.”
Jake put a hand on Pete’s shoulder. “Hope you don’t mind, but she complained a lot about pain on her left side so I pulled up her blouse and checked. No bleeding or swelling, but a pretty good bruise comin’. She might have a cracked rib, Pete. They really pounded her, but Jeezus, Pete, she killed six of ’em.”
“It’s not just my side, Peter,” said Bernie, squeezing his hands hard. “What scares me is the baby not moving, and I feel pain there too. Oh—there it goes again!” Bernie closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them wide. “Oh, God,” she said, “it’s starting!”
“What?” Pete was surprised by her sudden alertness.
“I think it’s coming now! Get me to a bed. I’m not going to have my child born in the dirt.”
Pete gulped, then looked at the faces around them. “Three on a side, and keep her back straight. We’ll lift together, and take her to the bedroom by the kitchen.”
Six men lifted her gently from the ground, and she groaned. They carried her inside the house, broken glass crunching under their boots, and put her on the brass bed she shared with Pete.
“Now what?” asked Jake. “Is she really gonna have a baby now? Hell, we need a doctor here.”
“Nearest one’s in Quincy, and Bernie’s in no shape for a ride,” said Ned. “Besides, our horses ’n’ wagons are all back at the creek. Any volunteers for a run back to town?”
A couple of hands went up. “
Okay, Ed and Zeke, it’ll take you an hour if you really hump it. Stop by as many houses as you can, and tell the women to get right over here. I know Audrey’s done some midwifin’, and some of the others, maybe. Zeke, bring some shovels back. We’ve got maybe thirty bodies to bury somewhere.”
“We gonna talk about this, Ned?” asked Jake.
“Later,” said Ned. “Right now we need action, not words, unless you want to smell the stink.”
“The mouth of the canyon is a good spot,” said Pete, “and it’s safe on my property. Whoever these people were, I doubt they have relatives to come lookin’ for them.”
“Maybe,” said Jake thoughtfully, “but what we’re doin’ ain’t legal.”
“Later, Jake,” said Ned, but the end of the conversation came when Bernie moaned again.
“Can you get some women here? Things are really startin’ to happen!” she yelled.
The men crowded out of the room in confusion, Pete remaining at her side. Only a minute later Jake returned with Diana and two other women in tow. Pete looked at them, and without hesitation spoke in classical Tenanken.
“Please help her. Our child is ready to be born.”
Diana squealed with delight, clapping her hands together but then becoming stern, pushing both Peter and Jake out of the room and slamming the door behind them.
Pete looked at Jake, and managed a wry grin. “I’ve just been thrown out of my own bedroom by a woman who isn’t even my wife,” he said.
They occupied themselves with the other men for two hours, shoveling broken glass out of the front room and boarding up the big window. Everyone crowded into the house, wanting to help, and in an hour a steady stream of women was marching back and forth between the bedroom and the kitchen. Near dusk, Diana emerged from the bedroom with a smile, took Pete by the arm and led him to Bernie. The women had cleaned and bandaged her wounds, and she had on her favorite nightgown, a white thing that made her hair seem even more golden. Her face was swollen and purple on the left side, one eye nearly shut so she had to turn her head to look at him. “See, I’m pretty again,” she said weakly.
Pete felt out of place. Awkwardly, he said, “Do you still hurt?”
Bernie took his hand in hers. “The contractions are regular, now, but my side doesn’t hurt so much when I lie still. And Pete, the most wonderful thing, a little while ago Diana was examining me, putting her hands over my stomach to see how the baby was positioned, pushing back and forth a little and Peter, the baby moved! I felt it move! Then as soon as Diana took her hands off me it was quiet again. She says the head is placed right; everything’s ready to go. Our first child will be born right in this bed. Oh, it feels tight down there!”
She was babbling, euphoric. Pete sat down on the edge of the bed. “Can I touch?” he asked, and she nodded. He put both palms gently on her abdomen and immediately felt movement as if the child had been startled. He closed his eyes and let the love feeling well up in him, imagining it flowing through his hands to child and mother. A tiny heel moved slowly past his hand once, twice, then pushing outwards sleepily. He opened his eyes, and found Bernie crying.
“He knows his daddy’s there,” she said.
He sat with her until after darkness as the contractions grew stronger, coming at shorter and shorter intervals. People came and went, including Baela, who wanted to feel the baby and laughed when it moved for her. Diana and two other Tenanken women were a constant presence, waiting patiently for the moment. Pete looked at their calm expressions. The memories of tens of thousands of birthing years are with you. Please use them to help the ones I love.
Well after dark, Bernie yelled, then grunted and arched her back with terrible force. Diana pushed Pete out of the room, explaining, “room too small. No space enough.” Steaming water was brought in, along with all the linens in the house. The door slammed shut.
Pete was jittery, standing in a front room filled with nervous men. When Diana came out briefly he followed her to the kitchen. “I should be in there to help,” he pleaded.
Diana looked at him sharply. “Woman know what to do. No time to talk—work!” She bustled past him with a boiled knife in her hand, and slammed the door behind her.
“Aren’t you supposed to start pacing, now?” asked Jake, and some of the men laughed uneasily.
“I’m gonna take a walk,” said Pete. “It’s getting too close for me in here.” Nobody followed him when he left the house to sit on the edge of the porch and look out at the silhouettes of trees. Darkness hid the bodies piled to his left where they had been dragged. One of them was Maki, Anka’s last son, unceremoniously dumped with a pile of Tenanken outcasts, perhaps the last of their kind.
The change was not coming; it was here—now. Tenanken and Hinchai as one people. It was right; again, he felt it, and now, very soon, the first child of their joining. What kind of child? The question chilled him. His own features were heavy, but not Tahehto like those of his father. Would the child be brutish? Would Bernie scream at the sight of her newborn, wondering how such a thing could come from her, what monster had entered her to conceive it? Sweat beaded on his forehead as he thought about it, but then his reverie was interrupted by the arrival of Zeke in his wagon, carrying shovels and a passenger. Audrey Miflin, red-faced and heavy-busted, waddled past him into the house.
“Calm down, poppa. We’ll have that baby of yours born in no time.”
But in a few minutes she peeked out the front door. “Hell, they don’t need me in there; everything’s goin’ fine. Old country medicine. Better stick close, though. It’s gonna be pretty soon.” Audrey grinned happily, and ducked back inside.
Pete directed Zeke to a spot at the mouth of the canyon and walked back to sit on the porch while ten men went to work with the shovels. Ned came out of the house, and sat with him for a while.
“We’ve been talkin’,” said Ned, “and I hope you’ll go along with this, even though it’s against the law. It’s just that we’ve got ourselves a nice, quiet town up here, and what would it accomplish if what happened today ever got out?”
“All those dead. How can we not talk about it?”
“Well, we’re sure as hell gonna try not to. All of us came up here for the peace and quiet, and we’re gonna keep it that way. The vote was unanimous, Pete. We’re not sayin’ anything to anybody about today. It never happened, just like Tom bein’ killed. Tom had nobody but us, and we got the guys who killed him. That’s fair enough, and nobody will mourn the critters we’re buryin’ out there.”
I can think of a couple, thought Pete, remembering the feelings he’d had in the cave that day. If they are still alive.
“We got them all, Pete, every one. A couple of our own got banged up pretty good: Bernie, one of the other women, and then the guy we found in the barn, the little girl’s father.”
“Baela?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Her daddy, she said. Bad bang on the head, shoulder busted, a couple of dead critters by him, one pierced clean through with a stone-headed spear. Hell of a fight that must have been. Bad concussion, and we’ve got him upstairs. He’s been babbling all evenin’ in a weird language, sort of speakin’ in tongues. Touch and go for now, but we’ll ride it out with him.”
“Where’s Baela?”
“She’s with him, now, and her mother.”
There was a shout from inside the house.
“What do you say, Pete. We keep quiet about all this? Bury the dead, and get on with it?”
Pete thought for a minute, but it was hard to concentrate. What was all the yelling about? A new beginning for the Tenanken, safe in a quiet place, and time to learn the Hinchai ways. Their own settlement, and friends. Future lovers. Children. Quiet time was needed—not invasion by outsiders.
Now men were talking by the open door of the house, and from somewhere deep inside came an agonized cry.
“Yeah, that’s fine, Ned. We keep quiet about all of it.”
“Good,” said Ned, slapping him on the bac
k.
Jake stuck his head out of the doorway. “Better get in here, Pete. Things is happenin’ fast, now; women runnin’ all over the place.”
Pete and Ned both scrambled to their feet, Pete beating him to the door by a step. Inside was chaos, men packed together, pushing up towards the bedroom door, falling back when Audrey rolled out of the kitchen with a pot of something steaming and threatened them with it before the door slammed behind her. Over the din in the front room Pete could hear women’s voices beyond the door, and then Bernie grunting, crying out, grunting again. Suddenly there was another cry, but this one higher pitched and coming in bursts.
A baby’s cry.
It got very quiet in the front room, everyone listening. Finally, Jake sidled up to Pete and put an arm around his shoulders. “From what I hear, you have just become a poppa,” he said. “Congratulations.”
The door opened, and Audrey bustled out.
“Can I?—” Pete began.
“Not now. Mister Pelegeropoulis is not yet presentable to his public.” She held up something long and bloody. “I’ll wrap up the cord for you to keep.” She busied herself in the kitchen, then pushed past Pete and into the bedroom, but women were in the way so he couldn’t see Bernie.
A boy. He had a son. The firstborn was a son, and in the Tenanken traditions it was a most favorable sign.
At last the door opened to him, the women stepping aside from the bed and he saw Bernie lying there, battered looking but smiling serenely, and cuddled tightly next to her a tiny human being wrapped in a blanket. For Pete, there was no sound or sight other than those two before him in the bed; he stepped forward, sat down next to them, touched Bernie’s face, then pulled aside the blanket to look at the face of his son.
He was beautiful.
A well-shaped head was covered with blond fuzz. Tiny mouth, but generous nose in a square face with well-defined cheekbones, and when Pete’s face drew near, the baby opened coal-black eyes, squinted at him, then turned his head and made sucking sounds.
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