Years After Series | Book 1 | Nine Years After

by Clary, LeRoy

  Even in my tired, beat-up condition, her words were empty lies. “Maybe it’s the injury to my head speaking, but he doesn’t know that.”

  She paled and her back went ramrod straight. “You’re right. His men will beat me, and if that doesn’t work, they’ll torture me endlessly. They already have four new weapons and a thousand rounds, or so. They can see the value in making me reveal what I know. They want more than they have.”

  “There’s this man we met, Mayfield and me. He was a scout for the army, him and his brother. They were good to us and invited us to go to Montana, in the far southwest corner and live there. I can’t think of the name of the town, but he said we’d be welcome.”

  “They must have gangs and armies there,” Tess said, but her tone was hopeful. “They are everywhere.”

  “He said it’s too rural, the people too independent. When one of them starts to gain power, the others join together and stop him before he has power.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  She slowed the gait and the horses snorted and huffed. We’d ridden them hard. They could take it easy for a while and choose their gait. If it was slow, I might stay in the saddle. Or not.

  My head pounded. My eyes closed. I slipped to one side, almost fell, and caught myself.

  Tess spoke sharply, “Wake up, Danner. Just a little bit to go.”

  Easy to say. It was as if the crying had weakened my body and mind. I adjusted my position on the saddle again, trying to find a new place for the leather to chafe. There wasn’t one. I said, “My butt will be sore for a week.”

  She smiled. “You know what? Most men wouldn’t have stuck in the saddle as long as you, not in your condition.”

  “We don’t have horses in Deep Hole.”

  “Why is that what everyone called it? The sanctuary?”

  “The leaders didn’t like the name, so we called it that to irritate them when we were young.”

  We rode on. She faced me again. “You’re what? Sixteen? Seventeen? You are still young.”

  “Not anymore.” My tone sounded gruff to my ears and she turned away from me.

  I’d aged since arriving on the surface.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Russian Creek Crossing ahead,” Tess said after a long silence.

  I looked up. A white, raging river upstream and it widened into a shallow lake on our left. The road went directly into it, and across, on the far side, it came out of the water and continued up a hill. We rode to the river and paused to let the horses drink their fill where it was only a foot deep.

  There were no farms in sight, only a thick forest. If we followed the road over the mountain pass, we’d cross over the mountains and enter a wide prairie where water was in short supply, and people were few. Tess had other ideas.

  She dismounted with the cloth bag of food grasped in one hand. The handle of the revolver stuck out of her waistband on the side, and the handle of the knife she’d cut the tent to free me on the other.

  I had nothing. There had been a gun, I remembered. Maybe not. My head pounded and my thinking was not on track. There had been no sleep during the night while riding. The soldiers had taken all I had the night before. Well, not completely true. They left me my boots, but only because they hadn’t stolen them yet. I turned and slid from the side of my horse. Once on my unsteady feet in the water, I gave his neck a rub and silently thanked him. Or her.

  We loosened the straps on the horses and slid free the small, thick blankets the saddles rode on. I copied her as she pulled the straps tight again, so the saddles didn’t slip and ride upside down on their bellies, she explained. The blankets were rolled and carried under our arms, although neither blanket was large enough to cover us. Something was better than nothing, she had said.

  I wasn’t listening. My eyes wanted to close. I caught Tess giving me an appraising nod when she thought I wasn’t looking.

  After slapping the rumps of the horses and watching them run back down the road in the direction of the farm where we had “stolen” them, she said, “We walk in the river from here. Watch your step.”

  “In the water?”

  “Yes. To hide our tracks. Stay in the shallows. Today you start learning how to track by learning how to hide yours.”

  I glanced back over my shoulder. My horse had stopped running and was watching me with sad brown eyes. It wanted to rejoin me. At least, that’s the way I’d tell the story.

  Tess walked ahead; her arms spread wide for balance. I did the same. My feet slipped on rocks with green slime growing on them. Others rolled or shifted. The going was slow against the current.

  A stream flowed from one side and joined the river. She turned up it and the water became inches deep and easier to travel. Before long, we came to a boulder that sat on the side, partially in the water. She held up a finger to warn me and stepped onto the boulder and paused. She leaped ahead, landing on another boulder three feet away. Then she leaped over a small shrub and landed on the bare ground.

  I duplicated her actions. A game trail took off at an angle and she told me, “Walk without leaving any tracks.”

  She knelt and gathered a fistful of dry leaves and sprinkled them in the depressions where our feet had landed after jumping. Then she walked behind me, pausing now and then to cover up one of my blunders.

  We’d been moving through the trees for an hour when I happened to look behind and see the tears flowing silently. I quickly looked back ahead—no comforting words came to mind.

  While I had no more tears left for Mayfield, every few minutes something arose that reminded me of her. At times, I nearly asked her opinion, and when I did something well, I wanted her approval.

  That was the key to our relationship. I wanted her to respect me more than like me. Whenever there was a challenge and I won, my first look was always at her.

  I’d never understood that when growing up.

  Maybe I did have a few more tears.

  We moved as quickly as I could go. If it was Tess alone, she would already be out of sight. A little guilt crept in. I was holding her back, maybe putting her in danger.

  She called a halt and motioned for me to join her. I went back, determined to tell her to go ahead and leave me. I was going to sleep.

  She motioned for me to sit beside her. We were on the side of a large hill overlooking farms. I recognized the road we’d traveled to Russian Creek Crossing and understood the importance of the vantage. If the army pursued, we would see them hours before they reached this location, assuming they managed to track us up the river and through the forest.

  It was a good idea, but I’d be asleep. I closed my eyes.

  She said, “Sorry about Mayfield.”

  “And Cap,” I managed. “It was our fault, wasn’t it? If not for us, they wouldn’t have killed him.”

  “No, not your fault. Sir Wilson is the fault.”

  “Back there in camp. You killed a man before you came to my tent, didn’t you?”

  “We needed a weapon and you needed to escape.”

  “Does it bother you?”

  She turned to me. “Not in the way you think. What bothers me is that I couldn’t kill all six of the remaining soldiers and then slowly kill the one in charge. After that, I’d go to Everett for Sir Wilson himself.”

  The words were forceful and bitter. They also echoed things that had been floating around in my head. Without forethought, I blurted, “Why are we running?”

  “Do you want to die?”

  “No. I want to kill the men who killed Mayfield.” There, I’d said it out loud.

  Tess sat and refused to look at me again, probably thinking she was traveling with a crazy man. Her shoulders shook as she cried again, then she pulled herself together and said, “You’re right.”

  “Right? About what?”

  “I can’t go home. Ever. The soldier sent to report the find of the weapons we had with us to Sir Wilson will identify me. Not that they know my name yet, but my descriptio
n is going to be everywhere, along with rewards posted. The chance Sir Wilson gets new weapons and attacks his competitors to expand his area are such that he will not give up.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.

  She continued, “They will send men to our home. My home. That murderer we killed had already killed our friends there, so there is nobody—but they will post guards to watch for me. They’ll be there a long time, or until someone overthrows Sir Wilson and takes his place.”

  “Neither of us has a home,” I muttered.

  Tess was quiet for a while as we watched the empty road far below. Eventually, a small group of men moved along in single-file. Seven of them, as they continued coming closer and we could count them individually. It was the squad of soldiers searching for us.

  Tess ignored them and said, “You are right. We’re without a home. And without our partners and friends. Let me ask you a very personal question.”

  I watched the soldiers, hating each of them. “Ask anything.”

  “What would Mayfield do now, if she had lived and you died?”

  It didn’t take long to answer. “She would fight back. Not run away.”

  “Cap would do the same.” She stood and brushed off her backside. “I cannot ask you to join me, but I have no mate, no home, and a thirst for revenge.”

  “I’m a little thirsty, myself.”

  She flashed a wan smile, then continued watching the men below as if she might find some clue to their demise. “Seven against two. We’re likely to die in the next day or so if we choose to do this.”

  “If we were playing poker, it would be time to bluff a poor hand. Maybe cause someone to throw in his cards, even if he had better ones.”

  “Raise the stakes. I play a little too.” Her eyebrows were furrowed as she concentrated on the soldiers. Finally, she said, “There is a children’s story about a mouse chasing a cat until the cat catches it.”

  “You have an idea?”

  “We should chase them a little. That’s my plan. With luck, they’ll follow us up the river. What we did back there won’t fool an army scout or most who survive in the wilderness. We should have left more of a trail, maybe. Once they are alone, and it is night, we can reduce their numbers and then hide. Hit and run.”

  I hesitated. I’d agreed to help, not commit suicide. “What then?”

  “Then, that corporal in charge will decide to retreat, which means he will have a sudden need to rush to Sir Wilson and personally share all he knows and take whatever credit he can.”

  “That doesn’t sound good for us.”

  “Except that we know he is not a woodsman. He is city-bred, so he will turn-tail and head for the road. That’s where we will wait for him and any remaining men.”

  “That seems complicated.”

  “If we had two of your new weapons, we’d ambush them, kill them all, and leave them to rot. All I have is a beat-up revolver with bullets an unknown person made. There’s probably a thirty percent chance it will blow up in my hand when I try to fire. Another thirty, it will not fire at all. And a generous thirty it will shoot, but not necessarily at what I aim at.”

  “I see the problem. I don’t have a gun.”

  “It is not as bad as I’m making it out. For a few thousand generations, a rock or club were the best weapons on the planet, until spears and bows took over. As a race, we defeated every other alpha predator until we came out on top, and not one of them had a gun. We don’t have the time or ability to make those better weapons, but we can find you a suitable rock and club.”

  Her intentions and words were those of a madwoman. She was hinting strongly that she wanted me to enter a battle against seven soldiers armed with guns while holding a club. Or a rock.

  I wanted revenge. There had to be a better way.

  Tess seemed happy and I hated to destroy that mood.

  She said, “We need to move into position.”

  Me defeating the army platoon with a rock and club needed more discussion. “Whoa, just slow down a little. You know what you’re planning but I don’t. Let’s talk a little more.”

  “Talk while we walk,” she said and began leading the way.

  I’d known the woman for what? Two days? If that? And she was leading me into a stone age battle—and I was blindly following?

  On the positive side, she had a purpose and was a little happier. I followed and called, “At least, explain what we’re going to do.”

  “This is how I see it,” she said as confident as any general in any war. “There are only seven of them. The corporal is going to have the others stand watch all night long, probably an hour each. He won’t stand one because he is their leader. Agreed, so far?”

  “Yes, I guess.”

  She walked on a fair distance before continuing as if she was planning as she walked, which was probably true and didn’t make me feel any better about our plans. “We kill the lone guard silently. Not the first one, because there may be others still awake. That leaves six.”

  “And only two of us,” I added helpfully. “Or better said, three against each one of us.”

  “Against the two of us,” she repeated with a bit of a smirk. “That’s their problem they didn’t bring more men,” she chuckled at her joke. “They will sleep in tents. We can get into one tent quietly and then cut a throat, or two. Bash in a head or two with a rock, maybe. Two more dead, silently.”

  “That leaves four, assuming nobody wakes up, which I doubt. Four armed men against the two of us. Not good,” I said.

  “Have it your way. Let’s look at it again, worst case. There are six remaining, after killing the guard. We make noise killing the next two and wake the camp, so we run. Do you doubt we can’t kill the first three?”

  Looking into her eyes, I believed.

  She said, “That leaves four, and they are awake and armed. You and I have already done a bit of work to slow them down if they chase us, which won’t be far in the dark, but let that go for a moment. Those four will be only steps away. I have five bullets. Some may fail, I know, but each pull of the trigger rotated the cylinder to a new one. If only two fire, they’re down to two men. We escape into the night.”

  Damn. The plan had merit and I couldn’t think of a fault. I said, “What did you mean we have already done a bit of work?”

  She pulled the coil of light rope from her pocket they hadn’t taken from her. “After we take out the guard, we’ll string this across the path knee-high in two places. You and I will jump over it. They won’t see it.”

  And they’d fall in the dark. I could imagine that. If we only killed the guard and then managed to wake the camp and all six chased after us, they would still either give up or go slowly after falling. They’d think there were more traps set ahead for them and wait for the light. It gave us an escape route.

  I liked it.

  Not the part about me carrying a club or rock. That part I still didn’t like. But hadn’t mentioned that if we managed to kill the two in a tent, they would have knives and guns we could take. If I had a gun or two, and Tess had hers, in the dark, we might stand a chance against the four in a gunfight.

  If we fled, we might still have another gun, and there would be fewer of them.

  Again, I thought of Mayfield. What would she think of our plan? If alive, is it something she’d attempt? Absolutely. If we succeeded, would she be proud of me? Yes.

  Would that take some of the pain away from me? I decided it might. Doing nothing would give me future years to curse myself. Attacking them as they had attacked us was only fair. If they had left us alone, Cap and Mayfield would still be alive, we’d be traveling to their farm to help with the harvest. The men we were going to fight chose to change all that.

  Tess handed me a hunk of hard bread with seeds in it. There was a slightly sour taste. At the stream, we scooped water and she handed me a chunk of cheese. She placed the cloth with the rest of the food inside her shirt since we had no backpacks. I still carried
the horse blankets but didn’t see why.

  I mentioned it, and she said, “Might as well leave them here. We’ll either find better ones in their camp or come back this way and use them.”

  That sounded ominous.

  We heard them long before we caught sight. Seven men on the hunt, knowing we had little in the way of defense, and knowing they were going to receive grand rewards when they caught us and made us talk. I could hear it in their cheerful voices even though I couldn’t see them.

  Tess had us slip behind a stand of briars taller than my head. She made me lie down where I couldn’t see them. If I couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see me, she said. Tess took up a position behind a tree trunk after warning me to remain still or die.

  That was an effective incentive. I remained still and listened.

  “This way,” one said excitedly. “We’re closing in.”

  “You’re sure?” another asked.

  “See? This rock was turned over today when a foot touched it. Look at the impression in the dirt where it was before they came this way?”

  A third voice mentioned something about beer, and they all laughed. They were very close.

  I tracked them with my ears. They approached from the right, passed in front of me fifty feet away, and continued jabbering in my left ear. I glanced up when the voices faded. The shadows on the trees were long. Evening was coming.

  There was a clearing ahead of them, one we’d just passed through and decided it was where they would stay the night. Grass and a running stream right beside. That’s where I’d stop.

  They did.

  We waited out of sight a hundred yards away. Snippets of talk and laughter floated on the night air. Before long, the smell of smoke confirmed the campsite. I still hadn’t moved.

  Tess had. She came up beside me so quietly I had no idea she was there until she touched my shoulder. If her actions were to convince me she could move without being detected, they had.

  She whispered, “Just a little longer when the last of the light to see by is here, I’ll go string the trip ropes between trees.”

  “I’ll help.”

  She almost smiled. “No, you won’t. But while I’m doing that, you move back a little and search the edge of the stream for two rocks the right size. One will be heavy and large. Big enough to hold in your hand, but just barely. Heavy enough to smash a skull with one hit.”