Venom

by David Thompson

  The wilderness was anything but peaceful. It was a savage realm of fang and claw where the only true peace was the peace of the grave. Yet God help him, Nate loved it. Not the savagery, but the freedom that came from living without laws and rules. The only restraints were those he imposed on himself.

  It was freedom in its purest sense, and more precious to him than the security of civilized society.

  A long time ago, when the children were small, Nate had asked Winona if she would rather live east of the Mississippi where there were fewer dangers. She had stopped sewing and looked at him with that special look of hers and said that danger had always been part of her existence. She couldn’t let fear of it rule her. Life was for living, not hiding.

  “Husband! Look!”

  Nate came out of his reverie. They were on the north side of the lake. Ahead was his son’s cabin. Lou was at the window, waving her arms.

  “We should stop!” Winona called.

  Reluctantly, Nate slowed. He would only take a minute and be on his way. Whoever had fired that shot might need help. Any delay could prove fatal.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Snakes were all over her.

  Evelyn held herself still and clenched her fists and bit her lower lip so hard she drew a drop of blood, all in an effort to keep from screaming and flailing. Serpents were on her arms, her chest, her head. She never knew when one might sense she was a threat and attack.

  The sorrel stopped breathing. A last gasp, its tongue lolled from its mouth, and it was gone.

  Evelyn would have wept if she wasn’t so afraid. Here she had always thought of herself as somewhat brave. She’d faced buffalo and bears and an alligator once and survived people trying to kill her, and none of that filled her with the fear and loathing this did. Having snake after snake crawl over her, having their bodies brush her clothes and rub her skin—she could barely stand it.

  Their number became fewer and fewer until at long last she had none on her. She hoped that was the end of them, that they had all gone into the woods, but she was mistaken.

  Out of the pool came five more, some of the biggest yet, crawling slowly but inexorably toward her and the poor sorrel.

  “Please, no,” Evelyn pleaded, and squeezed her eyes tight shut. Maybe if she didn’t watch them it wouldn’t affect her as much. She heard them, though, heard the scrape of scales on cloth and a hiss. One crawled onto her arm. Her natural reaction was to jerk her arm away, but she commanded herself not to move. The snake wriggled onto her chest, and stopped.

  Evelyn almost sobbed. She waited for it to move on and when it didn’t, she cracked her eyelids. The thing was huge, as thick around as her pa’s arm. Its head was a few inches from her face and it was flicking its tongue as if testing the air. Keep going, she mentally begged. Please keep going.

  The rattler didn’t move. It looked around and then lay back down with its lower jaw on her shoulder.

  Dear God, Evelyn thought. It was resting on her. It must like how warm her body was after the cold of the water. She suppressed an impulse to shudder. She mustn’t so much as twitch. But how long could she stay still? Evelyn asked herself. Her nerves were raw. She was frayed to where she might lose control. Please, she prayed, make it go away.

  The rattler started to coil. She tensed, expecting it to attack, but no, it coiled in on itself and lay on her chest with its head on top of its coils. It wasn’t going anywhere. It might stay on her for the rest of the day, for all she knew.

  Evelyn couldn’t take it. She just couldn’t. She knew that if she screamed or she moved it would make the snake mad, but her need to get it off overwhelmed her reason. Torn from her innermost being, ripped from her against her will, a keening shriek burst from her lips. Simultaneously, she swatted at the snake with all her might and sent it tumbling onto the ground. For a span of heartbeats she felt sheer elation. It was off her! She was safe!

  A hiss shattered the illusion.

  Evelyn twisted her head.

  The rattler had coiled and its tail was buzzing like a hundred angry hornets. Its baleful eyes fixed on her and it poised to strike.

  Zach King stood at the rear corner of his cabin, his Bowie in his left hand, his tomahawk in his right. Before him were puddles and pools teeming with snakes. Many of the reptiles were making for the trees. If he waited a while, the shore would be clear, but he couldn’t shake a persistent feeling that his sister was in trouble. He must get to her quickly.

  Taking a deep breath, Zach bounded forward. He vaulted a viper, skirted another. A thick one reared in his path and he separated its head from its body. To the right was a clear space. A few steps, and he jumped over several rattlers entwined together. He tried not to think of how many there were. He tried not to dwell on the consequences of being bitten. He thought only of Evelyn, and of not letting anything stop him from reaching her.

  The next stretch was clear of water and almost clear of rattlers. He ran faster. Well to the east a mound caught his eye, a mound where none had been before. He couldn’t quite make out what it was and he couldn’t keep staring at it with snakes to watch out for.

  A lot of small pools and puddles appeared, pools and puddles writhing with serpents.

  Zach stopped. It would be easier to go around. He turned toward the lake and glanced at the strange mound again—and his pulse quickened. He had realized what it was; a horse, on its side. And when he squinted he could make out a part of a saddle.

  “Evelyn,” Zach said, and flew toward it. He didn’t care that there were rattlesnakes in his path. He didn’t see his sister and that meant she must be down, too, and nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to stop him from reaching her. He slashed a rattler, sidestepped, cut another, took several long bounds and cleared a moving rug of scaly death. He landed, swung, rent a reptilian head, spun, chopped another in half and was in motion even as the blow landed.

  He didn’t dare stop, didn’t dare relax, didn’t dare relent. He must stay on the move so he was harder to bite. Speed and reflexes, they were the key. He mustn’t think. He mustn’t worry about Evelyn. He hacked. He cut. Always in motion, always slicing. There were so many snakes. So very many. For every serpent he slew there were ten more.

  A big one with green markings lashed at his foot. He jumped and struck as he alighted, his tomahawk splitting its skull as neatly as a butcher knife split red meat. Then he was on the move again, running, jumping, dodging, evading. He was closer to the horse, but he couldn’t look at it. Not yet. Not until he was there.

  More rattlers bared his way. Those heading for the forest paid no attention to him unless he came near them and then most hissed and a few coiled, but they didn’t attack. He cleared a knot of ten or more and in front of him were a pair of thick ones, one on his right and the other on his left, big and coiled and their tails buzzing chorus. Both struck at his legs and Zach leaped straight up as high as he could leap. The two snakes flashed under his moccasins. He came down on top of them, slamming his right foot on the neck of the one and his left foot onto the head of the other. Instantly he speared the Bowie in and drove the tomahawk down. Then he was off and running, jumping, spinning.

  I’m coming, Evelyn, he thought. I’m coming for you.

  Chickory Worth couldn’t understand it. He had been biten twice. The bites hurt like the dickens. But he was still breathing. Even more amazing, except for where he’d been bitten, he didn’t feel anything. He wasn’t numb or tingly or itchy or in much pain.

  Emala had her hands clasped to her bosom and was rocking on her knees and praying at the top of her lungs. Tears trickled down her cheeks. “Hear me, Lord. I beg you. Spare him. He’s my only boy. Don’t let him die by no serpents. Serpents are Satan’s brood and the Bible says that those who have faith are proof against their poison.”

  “Please, Ma,” Chickory said.

  Emala raised her hands over her head. “I pray my faith is true. I pray you will heal him. I pray for your blessin’ in this as I pray for your blessin’ i
n all there is. Please, Lord, help us.”

  Samuel had stopped sucking and was sitting with his hands propped behind him. Spittle glistened on his lower lip and chin. “I don’t know as I got it all out, but I tried my best, Son.”

  “I know you did, Pa.”

  Randa hunkered and examined Chickory’s leg. “There’s no swellin’ yet. I think I heard they swell sometimes.”

  “How do you feel?” Samuel asked.

  “Except for where they bit, I feel fine. I don’t feel nothin’.”

  “Nothin’?”

  “Not a thing, Pa. It could be you got all the poison out. It could be you saved my life.”

  “Or it could be there wasn’t any poison to begin with,” Samuel said. “I didn’t taste any. But then, I ain’t exactly sure what snake poison tastes like.”

  “I was bit,” Chickory said.

  “Sure you were. But Nate King told me that rattlers don’t always…” Samuel stopped. “What was the word he used? Oh. Yes. Rattlers don’t always inject their poison. Sometimes they just bite and that’s all.”

  “Please hear me, God!” Emala wailed. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. Unto thee, oh Lord, do I lift up my soul. I will praise thee, oh Lord, with all my heart. Have mercy upon me, oh Lord. Have mercy upon my son.”

  “Emala,” Samuel said.

  “Hearken unto the voice of my cry, my King and my God, for unto thee will I pray. My voice shalt thou hear in the mornin’, oh Lord.”

  “Emala?”

  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table—”

  Samuel gripped her arm. “Stop your caterwaulin’ and listen to me, woman.”

  Emala opened her eyes and recoiled as if he had slapped her. “Did you just call my prayin’ caterwaulin’?”

  “He’s all right.”

  “Here I am, tryin’ the best I know how to persuade the Lord to help us, and you go and blaspheme.” Emala shrugged off his hand. “You’re beginnin’ to worry me, Samuel Worth. You truly are. Don’t you give a fig about your eternal soul?”

  “Chickory is all right.”

  “The Lord don’t like blasphemin’. It says so right in the Bible. He’ll forgive a heap of things but not that. You’d best get on your knees and beg him to forgive you or—” Emala blinked. “What did you say?”

  “Our son is fine.”

  “He is?” Emala turned to Chickory, new tears shimmering in her eyes. “Is that true? The poison isn’t makin’ you turn all blue and choke on your tongue?”

  “The bites sting some, is all,” Chickory answered. “But I’m breathin’ fine.”

  “Land sakes.” Emala grasped Samuel’s arm and nearly jerked him off balance. “Do you know what this is?”

  “We were lucky,” Samuel said.

  Emala vigorously shook her head. “None are so blind as those that won’t see. Luck had nothin’ to do with it.” She reverently put her hand on Chickory’s calf and said in awe, “This was a miracle.”

  “What?” Samuel said.

  “You heard me. A miracle. Just like in the Bible when Jesus healed the sick and Moses parted the Red Sea.” Emala ran her fingers over the bites as if caressing them. “Our very own miracle right here in our family. That I should live to see somethin’ so wondrous.”

  “The snakes only bit him, is all,” Samuel explained.

  “Of course they bit him. I can see the holes.”

  “No. I mean they bit him, but they didn’t get their poison into him,” Samuel said. “Haven’t you been payin’ attention? That’s why he’s not dyin’.”

  “He’s not dyin’ because the Lord heard my prayer.” Emala raised her arms on high. “We must give thanks. When we go to church we—” She stopped and her eyes widened. “Glory be. I just realized. We don’t have a church to go to.”

  “Ministers don’t come to the Rockies,” Samuel said. “I doubt there will be a church hereabouts for a hundred years or better.”

  “We can’t have that,” Emala said. “We need a house of worship. I bet if we had one, the Kings and the McNairs would come and maybe those Nansusequas if we asked them real nice, even if they are heathens.”

  “But we don’t have one, so why bring it up?”

  “We don’t have one now, but we will.” Emala beamed and nodded. “We’re going to build one.”

  “What?” Samuel said.

  “What?” Randa echoed.

  “You heard me,” Emala declared.

  Chickory groaned and put his hand on his leg as if the pain had made him do it.

  “Listen to yourself, woman,” Samuel scoffed. “You can’t just build your own church.”

  “It wouldn’t be just for me,” Emala said. “It’d be for everyone. Since there’s not a lot of us, it wouldn’t need to be big. We could even add a room to our cabin and have it be the church.”

  “Are you sure you weren’t the one snakebit?”

  Emala bristled like a kicked porcupine. “Samuel Worth, you don’t fool me. You don’t want to have to go to church every Sunday. You were a shirker back on the plantation and you are a shirker still.”

  “You better ask Mr. King what he thinks.”

  “I don’t need to ask Mr. King. I have my answer right here.” Emala patted Chickory’s leg. “The Lord himself has given us a sign.”

  “The snake bite?”

  “The miracle. It’s the Lord’s way of showing us we’re all under his care and we shouldn’t forget him just because we’re in the middle of nowhere without a church.”

  Samuel stared.

  “Why are you lookin’ at me like that? I’m right and you know it. King Valley needs a house of worship. Maybe we can have a bell hauled in and every Sunday morning Chickory can ring it to call everyone together.” Emala couldn’t wait. “It’ll be marvelous. We’ll have pews and a pulpit and we’ll even get our hands on hymn books.”

  “What about a minister?” Samuel brought up. “Where do you expect to find one out here in the middle of nowhere, as you called it.”

  “That’s easy,” Emala said. “One of us will have to take charge of the services, and there’s only one person in this whole valley who’s qualified.”

  “Mr. McNair?” Randa said.

  “No, silly.” Emala laughed with delight. “Me.”

  Chickory gripped his leg and groaned louder.

  Evelyn King stared death in its reptilian face. The rattlesnake had reared to strike. She’d heard tell that rattlers didn’t open their mouths until the moment they struck, but this one did, baring its lethal fangs. A drop of venom fell from each one. She went to fling up her arm when there was a flash of light and the viper’s head plopped to the ground. There was another flash and another and pieces of the snake joined the head. A buckskin-clad figure blotted out the sun and a hand gently touched her cheek.

  “I’m here, little sister,” Zach said.

  Evelyn gripped his hand and held it to her cheek and closed her eyes and held back tears.

  “There are more coming.”

  Evelyn let go and Zach stepped over her and put himself between her and the snakes. In one hand was his gore-spattered tomahawk, in the other his gore-spattered Bowie. Both weapons became blurs. She lost count of how many he killed, marveling the whole while at how quick he was, and how unerring his aim.

  Evelyn knew that her brother was widely feared by whites and red men alike, and seeing him now, as he hacked and split and cut every rattlesnake that came near her, it wasn’t hard to see why. She would never say it to his face, but Zach was a natural-born killer. For long minutes he proved her right. Then, at last, he straightened and wearily turned.

  “That was the last of them.”

  Evelyn burst into tears. Tears of relief and joy combined. She cried quietly until she was drained and couldn’t shed another drop. Sniffling, she dabbed at her nose with her sleeve. “I must look a sight.” />
  Zach chuckled. “You’re sort of cute with snot all over your face.”

  Despite herself, Evelyn laughed.

  Zach set down the tomahawk and Bowie and pushed at the saddle. “When I get this high enough, do you think you can pull your leg out?”

  “I’ll try,” Evelyn said. “But I can’t feel anything. For all I know, it’s broken.”

  “Let’s try.” Zach squatted and slid his arms as far under the sorrel as he could and grit his teeth and strained. His face grew red and his shoulders and neck bulged.

  Evelyn braced herself on her elbows. The pressure eased slightly and she pulled. Her leg slid an inch or so, and no farther. She tried harder and finally shook her head and said, “It’s not working.”

  “Damn.” Zach eased off and draped his forearms over his knees. “I need help.”

  At that juncture hooves pounded and a big bay came to a halt and a giant form vaulted down.

  “Pa!” Evelyn squealed.

  Nate King was a study in concern. He looked from his daughter to his son and back again. “Are both of you all right?” He stared at Evelyn. “You?”

  “We’re fine, Pa. I can’t get loose, though.”

  “You will now.” Nate squatted and said to Zach, “When I lift, you pull her out.”

  “You don’t want me to help you?”

  “No need, Son.”

  Evelyn had long known her father was immensely strong, but even she was amazed when he slid his hands under the horse as Zach had done and his shoulders and neck swelled and the weight came off her. Zach took hold under her arms and eased her out from under and when she was clear he said, “She’s out, Pa. You did it.”

  Nate examined her leg. “It doesn’t appear to be broken. Can you move it any?”

  “Give me a minute.” Evelyn was tingling from her hips to her toes. From the flow of blood being restored, she reckoned. It almost tickled. She wriggled her toes. “The feeling is coming back.”