She breathed in. “You too, I think.”
He sat up. His shoulder brushed against hers. “Glad I’m not the only one chasing these things.” He stood and kicked it.
Annie stared at the lifeless giant. “What are they?”
“Wendigo.” He pulled a knife from his boot and set to carve out the monster’s teeth.
“Don’t.” She hopped up and balled her fists.
“These are sharp. We can trade ‘em with the tribes.”
Annie’s breath rushed in and out. “The t-t-tribes? You mean Injuns?”
“M-hmm.” He cut a tooth out.
“What do they want with ‘em?” She moved closer.
He struggled to cut the bleeding gum. “Good for tools.”
She crouched beside Mr. Butler. “And you don’t have any qualms?”
“Not a one.” He ripped out the second tooth and blood splattered her face.
She spat on the ground and wiped her cheeks with her skirt. “And here I thought you was just a sore loser.” She stood and twirled her hair around her finger. “No one’s ever hunted with me. Well . . . not these.”
“Now I have.” He stopped to wink at her before extracting another tooth.
She turned to face the trees. “But you travel. A lot, I hear.”
His feet scuffed the ground behind her and she found his hand on her shoulder a moment later. “This bastard followed me. You cleared these woods yourself, I reckon. Ever think of taking up other parts?”
“Me?” She looked over her shoulder.
“I get jobs on the traveling shows. Kill Wendigo wherever I go. They seem to follow me.”
“I thought that too, for a while. It’s like they come after certain people.” She laughed with a bitter heaviness. “But I’m easy to track. Don’t go far.”
“You could.”
Her mother’s visage flashed across her mind. Her new step-father had seemed off-put by her presence, and she barely knew her baby brothers and sisters after having been locked up. With the house taken care of, Annie knew her family would be set. Still, she didn’t know anything about traveling.
“I’ll be in town for some time. Why don’t you think on it?”
Annie’s muscles relaxed. “Thank you, Mr. Butler.” She turned to him.
He took her hands in his and rubbed them. “Call me Frank.”
***
With one look back to the house she was born in, Annie waved at her mom. The only other time she’d left town was after her first step-father died and she’d been sent to the asylum.
Turning to Frank, she punched him on the shoulder. “Damn you, Mr. Butler, don’t you dare think of trying to subdue me into a life of domestics.”
He chuckled and pushed his hat back, holding the reins of the buggy tight. “Ball and chain that you are, I doubt I could keep you caged, Mrs. Butler.” The sun tinted his eyes with golden flecks as he winked at her.
“Gee up, then.” She looked ahead to the wagons leading them west. She sat tall, working to stay balanced after every bump. The horses clip-clopped at a fine pace and Annie gripped her skirt.
Frank had loaded up all their worldly possessions. Her tiny bag had seemed puny in comparison to his travel tack, but Mr. Kratzenberger had been right. She was destined for a greater life.
The countryside opened up, spilling golds and pinks along the emerald spans of grass and shrubs that led them away. Frank patted her leg.
She jerked her head at him and he grinned. “Yer doing it again.”
“Naw?” She wiggled her jaw.
“Yes, ma’am. You’ve been humming since we laid down that last Wendigo.”
She glanced around half-hoping the mention of its name would bring another.
“Now tell me, my dear, you humming ‘cause of me?” He furrowed his brow. “Or you thirstin’ for a kill?”
She leaned over and hit the reins in his hands.
He nudged her back with his arm.
“You were getting behind.” She waved ahead.
The wind tickled her cheeks and sent her hair flying from her face. Frank bent forward and eyed the horses, keeping a firm hand on the reins. “I asked you a question.”
She blew out a breath that rivaled the next gust.
He chewed his lip.
“They cain’t all be gone,” she said.
“And here I thought you was getting musicality on my account.”
She laughed at his tone. “I get plenty of something over you.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and offered a coy smile. “Now, you jest focus on getting us to the show, and I’ll hum or sing as much as you like.”
She fanned herself in the late summer heat, wondering when the breeze tapered off. Her mind wandered and she longed for a break. She couldn’t avoid hunting on the trail. Each stop left her sniffing-searching for tracks. Nothing but common forest animals were found for long spans.
By the time they reached Chicago, the only thing abating her disappointment was the show, and Frank. He knew the road, got her out and settled in their tent.
“I still cain’t believe we didn’t find head nor tail of a damn beast.” She paced the tight space sheltering them.
Frank kissed her and handed her his rifle. “You shoot with this today.”
She blinked at him. Her mouth hung open as she attempted to think of some appreciative words that expressed her deepest gratitude.
“That!” He held up his hands like a picture box. “If I could capture that face.” He gripped her free hand and gave it a squeeze. “I vowed myself to you, woman. And once we kilt every damn Wendigo, I’ll keep you so busy with exciting stunts, you won’t miss tracking ‘em.”
She curled her hair around her finger. The thin beat of her pulse climbed through her fingers. With a nod, she pulled the gun up to sight it. The weight pressed into her shoulder with more power. The barrel was longer, but easy to stare down. “It’s a little off—”
“To the left.” He chuckled. “Now you know why I always lean right.”
She lowered the barrel and he pulled her into his arms. “I married the right man.” She kissed him until Bill announced them for the show.
Wild Bill had hired her as soon as Frank had shown him she could shoot. His outspoken honesty had won her over. Leaving home seemed natural when traveling with her husband and folks who respected her.
Stepping onto the fairgrounds, everything had transformed from when they first arrived. The empty space that she left when going into the tent was now filled with others like it. A world of performers: men, women, and children had filled the dusty clearing. It had spirit-lifted the lands. What was once empty now erupted with life and wonder.
“You ready?” Frank linked arms with Annie and they marched out to the center stage in front of a daring crowd.
“I fear if I blink I’ll miss everything.” She took in the faces staring at them—at her.
Bill announced them with an air of greatness. His charisma seemed to place a spell over everyone. Annie brought her gun up and fired off a few rounds for show.
“She never misses!” Frank warmed up the audience. He ran for the end of the fairway and pulled off his hat.
She snickered at the thinning hair sticking up off his head. He’d never looked better.
He pulled an apple from his pocket and she turned to speak up. “I’ll be your William Tell for the day.” She cocked her head, basking in the warmth of the gentle laughs she instigated.
Without warning, she lifted her gun and cleared a bullet right through the apple on her husband’s head before anyone knew she’d pulled the trigger.
The audience cheered with a great roar.
Frank pulled out another apple and tossed it above him.
Annie sighted it and fired a hit.
He pulled out three more and began to juggle.
She laughed with the crowd and lowered the barrel of the gun to the ground, leaning on the shoulder rest. “Show off.”
“You gonna show me u
p, or what?” He fired back.
Annie soaked up the smiles. The onlookers’ awe filled her with pride. She took up the rifle once more. With a careful breath, she focused on his rhythm and shot.
One. Two. Three.
The smoke awakened her senses and she bowed when the crowd erupted even louder.
“What a shot!”
“Glad to meet you.”
“What a show!”
Annie welcomed her audience as they descended upon her. She played her part and it was fulfilling for the time.
Once back on the road, the old longing crept back into her soul. Frank juggled faster, got smaller objects for her to hit. He went so far as to have her shoot a cigarette from his mouth until they reached St. Paul, Minnesota.
“I’ve never smelt air like this.” She gazed at Frank as he pitched their tent.
“That’s snow.”
“Already?” She scanned the sunlight playing peek-a-boo through misty gray clouds.
Bill waltzed over and slapped her on the back. “There’s always snow in the air up here. No matter what time a year it ‘tis.”
She spun around and shook out her skirt. “Sounds like my kinda place.”
The colder the better. Wendigo always stalked in the cold. If there were any in these parts, Annie would find them.
“Jest don’t get too bold.”
“Whatcha mean?” She eyed Buffalo Bill’s scowl.
The deep lines on his forehead matched the wrinkles around his mouth. They gave him a masterly air, and he stood as tall as his name. “They say people’s gone missing around these parts lately. Not yer usual runaways neither.”
Annie glanced at Frank and he nodded with a knowing glow on his features.
The thrill of the show had kept Annie going, but her hands ached to clasp her gun and once again meet the hunt of the Wendigo.
***
“This show better go off without a hitch.” Bill lowered his gaze on Annie and she stuck her chest out.
Frank stepped forward, mouth open, but she held her hand out. “What’s got you so riled up, Bill?”
“Other ‘n the fact that you nearly shot off your husband’s face last show?”
She remained steady until he let out a laugh. Frank followed and she joined in. “If I wanted to shoot someone’s face, they’d know it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bill looked at the gun in her arms. “Just keep true.”
Annie followed Bill in front of the largest stage she’d ever been on. The raised platform made her feel like a giant trampling over worshippers. The sea of eyes below her boots held a desperation she had not experienced in previous towns.
No matter how poor or drought-stricken a city was, most folks had some hope for fun shining in their eyes. Before her, Annie found lifeless stares surrounded by dark circles. Fear seemed to hang in the air.
She swallowed hard and flashed a smile at them. “Thank y’all for coming. I’ve often been called the best shot around—”
“Often?” Her husband interjected. “You mean always, my dear.”
The crowd murmured with a few chuckles, but the banter only prolonged the awkward pretense.
Annie blushed and nodded at Frank. “We’ll see. Maybe today’ll be the day I miss.”
He jogged a-ways off. Holding up a silver dollar for all to see, he tossed it above his head. The metal flickered in a beam of sunshine.
Too easy. Annie pulled up her gun and blasted a hole through the coin.
She reloaded, ready for a triple.
Frank took three silver dollars out at once and threw them up together.
One. Two. Three. And a fourth shot for good measure.
Frank rolled a cigarette and winked at her. Then turning to the audience, he asked, “Anybody got a light?”
A short fat man obliged him, but Annie found it difficult to avoid the distrust seated in the man’s posture.
“Filthy habit. Makes you smell like a skunk.” She cackled—all part of the show.
“You ain’t got to breathe it in, woman.” He puffed long and hard for everyone to see. Then he blew smoke at Annie.
Her face twitched, but she could act. “I’ll show you.”
The moment he went to take another puff, she had the cigarette sighted, and blew off the smoking ember.
A shriek pierced her ears. Gasps and whispering grew louder until the crowd split open for a very excited audience member. The man hopped forward, dodging people to make his way to the stage.
When in sight, Annie wandered forward with Frank and knelt at the front of the stage. Before her stood a sun dyed man clad in a hide suit. His long hair laid in braids on each shoulder, as black as the ink of the last letter she had written to her ma.
Frank jumped down and held out his hand in greeting.
The man gestured to Annie and helped her get offstage before Frank could. “You are the one I’ve been waiting for.”
“Annie Oakley.” She grabbed his hand and gave it a firm shake.
“Sitting Bull.” She found his grip equal in firmness. Something in his earthy eyes outmatched the townsfolk.
Annie grew certain he knew more than he was letting on. She released her grip and moved closer to Frank. Linking her arm with her husband’s, she beamed on their new acquaintance, oddly aware of the spectacle they had become.
“And this is?”
“Frank E. Butler.” He offered Sitting Bull his hand and they shook, but Sitting Bull kept his attention on Annie.
“We must speak,” he said.
Annie sighed at her husband. Frank’s puzzlement lay in each contemplative feature. She admired his attentive nature. “My husband is my partner in everything.” She patted his hand.
Sitting Bull studied her.
“Everything,” she assured him.
“Follow me.” Sitting Bull gestured away.
Bill had already stepped onstage as if this had been part of the plan. “And there you have it, folks.” His voice echoed behind them, but Annie’s curiosity left her stunned, unable to react, until they passed her tent.
Frank spoke of the weather with Sitting Bull. He asked about hunting success. That’s when Annie noticed the growl in Sitting Bull’s tone.
She let the men talk while she studied the grasses that popped up around them as they moved farther out. Matted. Up yonder sat a small dwelling with smoke rising from the hole in the center.
Annie swished saliva over her teeth. “You live there?” She nodded to the teepee.
“I would rather die than live like the white man.” Sitting Bull frowned.
She blinked hard, unsure of herself and this new acquaintance. “Are we all that bad?”
He stopped and gazed over the trees that ran up the hills leading beyond the valley. A glimmer of pain sat in his stare. “Not all.” He cocked his head at her. “You do good in the land.”
She held silent. Something in the air or his voice made her feel as if she knew him. A rush of uncertainty struck her and she pointed to his teepee. “I’ve never been in a real jig like that.”
“It is no jig. It is life.”
Her chest grew heavy. Whatever had put the low mournful tone in his voice made her wish to help. “Oh.”
He led them closer, but stopped them at the entrance. “You stay.”
Slipping in and out, he held a long sharp object in his hand. “You know this?”
Annie lost control of her breathing. She sniffed at the tooth, reached for it to hold the monstrous artifact with revelry. “Wendigo.”
“Yes.” A curve appeared, growing slightly on Sitting Bull’s mouth. “I knew you were the one.” He sat down on the ground and patted the grass beside him. “There is death again. A herd of them. Worse than ever.”
Frank sat, but Annie gripped the tooth and paced the area in front of them. “A herd. Even with my eye, and his . . . ” she glanced at Frank who was as still as a statue, “sticks, we’d be destroyed.”
Sitting Bull leaned back. “Sit.”
She rubbed her forehead and lowered herself beside them.
Frank twirled his mustache against pinched fingers. “Those sticks do more than you know.”
Annie made a face at him.
“No teasing. Learned it from the Algonquin.”
“He’s right.” Sitting Bull laughed. “Sumac.”
“What?” Annie pulled a handful of grass from the dirt and left it fall.
“Sumac sticks send them away,” Sitting Bull said.
Annie wrapped her legs before her like Sitting Bull and leaned her elbows on her knees. “Those beasts eat everything and everyone. A little stick cain’t do much.”
Frank rubbed her shoulder. “Not any stick, Mrs. Butler. Sumac.”
“The oils burn it.” Sitting Bull nodded.
Annie rested her chin in her hands. “So you want me—”
“Us,” Frank reminded her.
“Us, to go kill a herd of Wendigo with some sumac sticks?”
Sitting Bull’s dark gaze seemed to look into her soul. It may as well have reached into her heart and pulled a lever. A wave of calm wrapped about her and she began to imagine a different option.
“The oils!” She jumped up and started pacing again. “We could coat my bullets in sumac oil!”
Frank stood with a jolt. “You sure got a mind on ya.” He pulled her into a hug.
Sitting Bull remained seated. He turned an approving eye on Annie. “I knew you’d come.”
She dropped to her knees before him. “But why? What are the monsters? Where do they come from?”
“Frank, lend me a puff.” Sitting Bull held out his hand.
Her husband rolled him a cigarette and handed it over with his matchbox.
Sitting Bull inhaled before speaking again. He let the smoke curl from his lips. “Last winter, the snow kept on. Many starved. My people have been forced away. I return hoping to stay. This is my place, but many white men came and built. A family lost their home. It fell under the cold. They wandered, froze. The father lived and bloodied with frost, ate the flesh of his dead children.” Annie bit back the bile tickling her throat. She shivered and closed her eyes at the thought.
“Wendigo were men. They grow wild once they drink the blood of man. A dark spirit takes over, twists their soul, stretches their bodies, and the hunger takes over.”
Unable to breathe, Annie held her head in her hands. Sitting Bull had told her everything she never realized she didn’t wish to know.
Fantastic Tales of Terror Page 33