Nomad Unleashed: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 3)

by Craig Martelle

  After fifteen minutes, they gave up.

  Jim started shouting and the others picked up the call. For ten minutes they yelled and whistled, beat rocks on rocks and sticks on trunks. Then they waited another ten minutes before Jim called everyone together. He didn’t want to go, but at least he could report to Felicity that they were making as much of an effort as could be made.

  The return trip didn’t take anywhere near as long as the hike uphill. It was still light out when five men walked the street of New Boulder on their way to the barracks. Jim went by himself to see Felicity.

  As the sun set, he could see her outlined in her upstairs window. She saw him approach and hung her head.

  When he arrived, she met him at the door. “Mark has one squad still on the mountain looking for Billy, and Sue is up there, too. Clyde had the scent when I last saw them.”

  Felicity broke down and started crying again. Jim hugged her, not knowing what else to do. Her hand found its way inside his shirt, and she caressed his back as she melted into his arms.

  He carefully backed away, looking at her in shock, and then ran as if being chased by a rabid mountain lion.

  ***

  Sue could see in the darkness, but Billy could not. She didn’t care. She had a warm bed waiting and Billy was keeping her from it. He stumbled and fell repeatedly before she gave in.

  “Here, dipshit. Grab the end of the stick. I’ll lead the way. If you try to run, well, that would be stupid. Do you think you can outrun a Werewolf? Especially an angry one?”

  Billy shook his head. “No,” he whispered meekly.

  “Good.” Sue took off, almost dragging the Mayor of New Boulder as she set a blistering pace down the hill.

  Billy stumbled, but didn’t fall as she broke the trail and tried to keep from slapping him in the head with branches, until she realized how much fun that was. She hit him with one that caught him mid-chest and flipped him over backward. He landed hard on the ground.

  He moaned, but Sue didn’t think anything was broken. He probably hadn’t eaten for a couple of days and was simply exhausted, as well as beat up. She lifted him up, surprised at how light he was, and tossed him over a shoulder. Leaving her stick behind, she started to run and finally was comfortable that they would get back at a decent hour.

  She slid and jumped, reveling in her own strength. They had eaten well since moving into the town. Sue was happy to be doing something physical. She agreed that she could lounge by the pool with the best of them, but she liked to look good while doing it.

  Sue hadn’t grown as soft as she suspected, but after the run from Cancun, she conceded that she deserved time to recover.

  She jogged down the path and reached the pavement of New Boulder, wondering if the others had arrived. Clyde slid in behind her, head hanging and tongue lolling. She put Billy down. He stood unsteadily. “Walk!” she ordered as she picked Clyde up like a baby and cradled him in her arms. “If my dog is hurt, there will be hell to pay, Billy Spires!”

  ***

  “Is that a light from the city?” Jazzy asked as he stood on the top of a cliff looking east. They were on the face of a mountain, but to the south of the city. “Got turned around up there, just a bit, huh?”

  Mark slapped him on the back. “Find us a way down, Blackie. We’ll be sleeping in our own beds tonight.”

  “Come on, Hank, find us a way down!” Blackie encouraged the young grizzly. The bear retreated into the brush and crashed through a few trees as Blackie set out after him.

  “Be careful!’ Mark yelled, unsure if anyone was ever careful after being told that.

  “This way!” Blackie called from the darkness.

  “Great,” Mark mumbled as he stumbled through the brush and over rocks, heading downward in a long half-circle. When he broke out of the trees, the cliff face was to the side, stars were in the sky, and a gradual slope descended toward the plains below.

  “Come on!” Blackie yelled as Hank ran ahead.

  ***

  As Sue and Billy approached the mayor’s house, the upstairs lights were on and Felicity was in the window. The street lights showed her that her husband had returned.

  She disappeared, quickly reemerging from the door and running into the street. Billy braced himself, but it didn’t matter, she never slowed down.

  She jumped into his arms, bowling him over and they rolled to the pavement.

  “Oh, Billy, I’m so sorry, I love you!” she drawled, kissing him repeatedly. She held his head and looked at him, “What happened to your face?”

  The whipping he’d taken from the tree branches hadn’t been kind.

  “All’s well that ends well,” Sue called over her shoulder as she hurried away, still carrying Clyde in her arms.

  ***

  Mark led the parade into the barracks. It was the middle of the night, maybe even later than that.

  Blackie and Hank were already in the enclosure and probably sound asleep.

  Jim had been sleeping on a couch and roused when the other men entered. “I’m glad you’re back. Our six are present and accounted for,” he reported sleepily.

  “Us, too. The only one we’re missing now is Billy. I mean Billy and Sue. We lost her as she ran up the hill,” Mark replied.

  “We’ll head back out after getting some shut-eye. We’ll find him,” Jim said confidently and returned to his place on the couch. The others staggered to their beds, happy to be back but unhappy that they spent all their time lost and not searching for the mayor. Mark decided he’d get a few hours’ sleep, then go see Felicity to tell her that they didn’t find him, then return to the mountains and start searching again.

  Mark worried, but when morning came, he’d find the conversation with Felicity would be no problem at all.

  And then he could return to the real issues that troubled the entire community.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The days stretched. They ate well and had a constant supply of clean water. The trail along the river was easy to follow. They settled in to a routine that put the miles behind them. They traveled fifty, then seventy-five miles in a day.

  The wolf pack, despite eating their fill, was starting to grow lean. Their bodies were hard and their nails had been ground down with the constant drive against the ground. Wolves and horses forcing their way through the world that Mother Nature created for them.

  They didn’t have to deal with another dust storm, but the rains came, repeatedly. They forged ahead, losing speed because of wet footing, making up time when it dried out, which it did quickly after the rains. The river turned to mud for a day, then cleared up, running clean once again.

  They marveled at the volume of water that flowed down the Missouri River. They found themselves trapped on the north side, when they thought the trail would be easier to the south, but kept going hoping to find an intact bridge.

  As they rode, Char’s ears perked up.

  “People,” she said. “A lot of people.”

  “Where?” Terry asked, looking around. Timmons and Ted were both sitting tall in the saddle and looking across the river.

  Terry raised a fist to signal a halt. A couple people wearing deerskins were fishing along the river, watching the group on horseback.

  “Watahey!” Terry yelled, waving. The two on the other side of the river waved back. “Have you eaten?” he bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth.

  “What?” Char asked.

  “It’s a native custom, a respectful greeting. We’re passing along the edge of a reservation, and I think we’ve come across a tribe, one that flourished once the white man’s influence disappeared,” Terry said, continuing to wave.

  He cupped his hands around his mouth. “We’ll be right there!” he yelled, followed by pointing forward with the flat of his hand, then making a slashing motion across the river, then pointing back to the two people on the other side.

  They exaggerated their nods and waved back before collecting their things and climbing the river
bank.

  “I hope there’s a bridge not too far away,” Terry said.

  “You know that hope is a lousy plan, right?” Char replied.

  “Hope is better than the alternative, which is swimming our happy asses across that monster.” Terry pointed to the river.

  “Not going to do that, so I’ll hope right along with you, but you know that there’s supposed to be a bridge up ahead, don’t you?” Terry nodded with a smile. “What you really mean is that you hope the bridge is still intact?”

  “Indeed, lover, indeed.”

  And it was. Ten miles farther up the road, they found the bridge. Terry decided that he wouldn’t drive a semi across it, but was more than willing to take the horses as long as they stayed single file. The wolves were skeptical, but after Ted’s cajoling, they braved it and ran across as if they were on fire.

  “What do they know that we don’t know?” Terry asked.

  “I can’t imagine,” Ted answered. He shrugged and rode ahead.

  “Don’t think I didn’t see you bristle when I introduced you as my wife,” Terry started. Char’s gaze turned cold. “I was thinking of other words to use. What do you think of my old lady? Or maybe my better half? How about the wife? Main squeeze? My woman?”

  “Why am I not beating the shit out of you right now?” Char replied. “My man? My portable pole dancer? My chunk of man candy? The husbone?’ Or maybe just dick? Hi, this is Dick.”

  “Dick Gozinya. I might have used that once. In a bar. I don’t recommend it.” Terry laughed. “Where in the hell were those creepy people coming from and where in the hell were they going?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that since we left Sheridan, and I have no idea. Were they ghosts?”

  Terry shook his head. “They were real alright. I hope we don’t find them when we return, they made my skin crawl.”

  “Me, too.”

  They urged the horses into a trot. Terry didn’t have to say anything to Ted about keeping the wolf pack under control. James, Lacy, and Gerry rode in the back, in an inverted V to protect the flanks and rear of their small formation. Timmons rode behind Terry and Char, watching and listening. Ted was out front and to the side as the pack loped along.

  They slowed to a walk when they saw the greeting party waiting for them. Terry stopped the group and ordered everyone to dismount. They walked ahead, leading their horses. Ted remained behind with the wolf pack, leading them to the river for a drink and maybe fishing if they found shallows.

  “Greetings. I hope that we can call you friends,” Terry said softly, respectfully.

  An old man wearing the feathers of a chief stood. A buffalo hide was draped over his shoulders. Terry thought that man looked like something out of a museum. Two older men, possibly the chief’s sons, stood to either side of him. A young boy, maybe thirteen years old, stood tall, jaw set as he tried to prove to the others that he was ready to be a man.

  “My hope as well, stranger,” the old man spoke slowly. “You travel with wolves.”

  Terry didn’t know if it was a question or not. He didn’t reply. After a brief period of silence, the old man continued, “And more.”

  He waved Timmons forward and looked closely at him. Then he looked at Char, getting close enough to reach out an aged, wrinkled hand to hold her cheek. Char responded in kind, cradling the old man’s cheek in her gracefully long fingers.

  The silence stretched much longer this time. Terry was never a man to be one with the earth, but he didn’t discredit those who were. The silence helped them remain better in tune with their surroundings.

  So they all waited. James, Lacy, and Gerry were the least patient and shifted uncomfortably.

  “Mother Earth blesses those who respect her,” the old man croaked, taking his hand from Char’s cheek.

  “Have you eaten?” Terry asked.

  “Yes, we have, and thank you,” the chief replied. “What brings you to this land?”

  Terry looked at Char and tipped his chin for her to go ahead. The chief and Char had bonded in some way. And the Werewolves were the oldest of the group. Even with Terry’s real age, he expected the chief was still older.

  “We have come from the mountains of Colorado as we seek a new home.” Char decided that the absolute truth was important. She didn’t know what the old man could feel, but didn’t want to tempt fate. “The heat has become oppressive and our lives there untenable should we try to remain. Mother Earth is reclaiming her own. We only wish to live in peace and harmony with her, so north we go, to Minnesota and then to the great lake, Lake Michigan, and the north side of Chicago where we expect to find the infrastructure to rebuild.”

  “The earth is kind to those who see,” the chief said mysteriously. “But not all her children were meant to live this way. Join us for a meal and then pray continue on your way. You have a great purpose, as chief of your people. I wish you luck in finding what you are looking for.” He turned abruptly. The men caught him and helped him shuffle away. Terry waved at Gerry to let Ted know that he should follow them.

  Over a small rise was a depression in which huts and teepees were arrayed across a large area.

  “Hundreds you said?” Terry reiterated with Char.

  “Hundreds.” They watched as people emerged and lined up to welcome the chief home and with his blessing, they greeted the newcomers. Ted jogged to catch up with the wolf pack running close by. Gasps of surprise came from those closest as the pack approached. Ted took them to the side and made them lay down. A few children approached and he smiled and waved them to him. He introduced them one by one to the wolves, then let them pet the creatures. More children arrived until Ted was surrounded by a sea of little people.

  Terry asked Timmons to help, as well as waving James and Lacy to join Ted. Gerry stayed with the horses, tying them to a post that seemed to be for that purpose. Droppings in the area suggested that the natives had their own horses.

  A few from the tribe joined Gerry to see the horses. Terry hoped that the name he’d given him, Geronimo, didn’t offend anyone.

  Terry and Char were shown to sit by a fire where a chicken cooked.

  The old man sat carefully and seemed to study Terry.

  “I’m Terry Henry Walton and this is Charumati. Are you Cheyenne?” Terry asked.

  “Some Cheyenne, some Crow, some others. During the darkening, too many people died. We came together for our survival, so that we all may live and protect Mother Earth from those who would do her harm. She continues to rage, but soon, she’ll settle. Not in my lifetime, mind you, but soon.” The old man sat quietly and continued to study Terry, before taking a deep breath and turning to Char.

  “Your way ahead is not without danger, but you will persevere. Leave Mother Earth in peace, and she shall do the same for you.” Then the old man closed his eyes and mumbled in prayer. Those around him took a knee and placed their hands on the ground.

  Terry and Char did the same thing as they waited. The smell of lunch made Terry’s mouth water. He’d eaten a great deal of fish lately. The wolves never left a rabbit, or grouse, or any kind of small game.

  The laughing and yelling interrupted the prayer. The old man stopped mumbling and looked up patiently to watch the tribe’s children running around in circles, playing tag with the wolf pack.

  “Never in all my years have I seen anything like that. But you are different. Wolves are friends to you, are they not?” the old man asked pointedly.

  “They are, and we to them,” Char replied barely above a whisper.

  The chief nodded over his shoulder and a woman almost as old as he was pulled the chicken into a pan, shredded it quickly using a couple knives, added chopped greens, and put it back over the fire, tossing the mix using a deft flick of her wrist.

  She poured a little into a number of different bowls and passed them around. She gave the first bowl to Char, who accepted it, but turned and gave it to the chief. The elders were always to be treated with deference and respect. In Terry�
��s world, the leaders ate last, but that didn’t apply here. The elders earned the right to eat first after they’d given their best days to the tribe. For the chief, those days were far in the past.

  Terry wanted to believe that his best days were ahead. He and Char held hands while they ate, both chewing slowly to savor the taste of the humble meal. When they finished, they thanked the chief and his tribe for their hospitality.

  “We have one parting gift that we hope you accept.” The chief smiled, waiting for an answer.

  “Of course we’ll accept your gift,” Terry interjected, and Char nodded, smiling pleasantly while gripping Terry’s arm tightly.

  Oh, fuck, he thought. His partner’s instincts were better than his own, and he suspected he’d just screwed up.

  The old woman entered the small hut that the chief called home, and dragged a young woman who couldn’t have been older than sixteen outside. Her hands were bound, her hair flying about wildly as she hissed and spat.

  “My granddaughter. She’s a free spirit, you see, loves the horses and loves adventure. She is a perfect match for your horse master. We offer her hand in marriage to him.” They couldn’t tell if the old man was chuckling or not as he spoke. Terry’s money was on the chief having a great laugh at their expense.

  “We graciously accept her as one of our own, but our customs are that she is free to decide her own fate. We will guarantee her safety and shelter. We will treat her as our family as I would my own daughter,” Terry said, choking on the last part.

  “Her name is Kiwidinok, which means ‘of the wind,’ in our language,” his eyes sparkled. “Appropriate, don’t you think?” he asked.

  “I can’t say,” Terry backpedaled. “With us, she will be free to be who she was meant to be.”

  They untied her hands, making sure to stay out of reach when the deed was done. The young girl stood, muscles tensed as if she were going to bolt. She pointed her toes toward the river and as if shot out of a cannon, she was off.

  But she only made it two steps before Char caught her arm and pulled her back. The girl swung an open hand at Char’s face. She caught the hand and lifted the girl up so they were eye to eye. The Werewolf’s glare wore her down, and the young girl relaxed.