Wilderness Double Edition #8

by David Robbins

  “No matter what happens, I wanted you to know I appreciate all you’ve done for us,” Selena Leonard said softly. “Especially in tolerating my brother. He can be a terrible burden.” She sighed. “I should know. I’ve been looking after him since we were children, and there isn’t a day that doesn’t go by where I don’t feel like pulling my hair out in frustration.”

  “Why put up with him?” Nate idly asked.

  “We’re family, and family should always stick together no matter what comes along. Our parents taught us that and we live by it.”

  Nate thought of his own brothers, with whom he had once been close, all grown aloof since the death of their folks. Admiration for Selena’s steadfast loyalty sparked him to comment, “I’d never have done what you’ve done. If Elden was my kin, I’d have left him years ago.”

  “We all have to make sacrifices sometimes,” Selena said. “And believe it or not, there are times when he is a perfect dear.”

  Nate was going to inquire about the circumstances surrounding their capture when a snowflake hit his cheek. Tilting back his head, he was elated to see a light snowfall had begun. He rapidly finished with the last pistol, wedged it under his belt, and pivoted so he faced both greenhorns. “We’re going to make a run for it if the snow gets heavier,” he informed them.

  “You’re crazy,” Elden said.

  “It will be our only chance,” Nate responded. “The Bloods can’t hit what they can’t see.”

  “But what if our horse slips? My sister and I would be at their mercy. No, sir. We’re staying right here.”

  “Fine,” Nate said. “Just try not to scream too loud when they overrun you come morning.” Disgusted with the pudgy pilgrim’s constant bickering, he walked to his stallion and checked his saddle.

  Selena and her brother went off to one side. For several minutes they whispered angrily back and forth until finally Selena, her chin jutting, her eyes flashing, jabbed a finger into her brother’s chest and said loud enough for Nate to hear, “You’ll do as I say, and I don’t want any more guff out of you.”

  Nate was beginning to consider their behavior a bit peculiar. Brothers and sisters were prone to fighting a lot, as he knew from his own experience, but normally they outgrew that when they became adults. These two were always at each other’s throats, and it frankly amazed him they had stayed together as long as Selena claimed. Deciding their personal affairs were rightfully none of his business, he scoured the slope on the east side, searching for obstacles they must avoid when they made their dash for freedom.

  Selena came over. “My brother has agreed to do as you wish.”

  “Are his legs broken?” Nate asked.

  “What?” Selena said, then, “Oh!” Musical laughter fluttered from her red lips. “No, but there are occasions when I’m tempted. You can’t imagine how trying it is, always having to set him straight.”

  “I have a fair notion,” Nate said dryly.

  The snow was becoming heavier. Selena held a palm out to let some flakes land on her hand. “Do you honestly think we have a prayer?”

  Nate stared at the Bloods, who had dismounted and tied their horses to convenient trees or brush, mulling her question. Once the warriors recovered from their initial surprise, they’d go for their mounts on the run. At the most, he could count on a thirty-second head start, which wasn’t much at all when dealing with seasoned braves, most of whom learned to ride expertly before their tenth birthday.

  “Do you?” Selena repeated.

  “A slim one,” Nate conceded. “Just remember. Whatever happens, don’t let your brother stop. Keep going until I tell you otherwise.”

  “What if something happens to you?”

  “Then you can rest when you reach the Mississippi,” Nate joked, since the river lay hundreds of miles to the east. A gust of wind fanned his hair, reminding him of his lost hat, and he brushed his bangs from his eyes with his left hand. Visibility was gradually diminishing as the snow worsened.

  A low nicker brought Nate around in time to catch Elden Leonard in the act of climbing on the sorrel. “No!” he said curtly. “Not until I give the word.”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “If the Bloods should see you, they might guess what we’re up to.”

  “But my backside is cold and the horse is so warm.”

  “I’m not in the mood to argue,” Nate warned, and glanced at Selena. “So he’s going to do as I wish from here on out? Is that what you told me?”

  “I tried.”

  Moments later a tremendous gust of northerly air whipped the snow on the ground and the flakes in the air into an agitated frenzy. Nate squinted down at the bottom of the hill, which was now totally obscured by the building storm. He’d wait a bit, he decided, to be safe. Suddenly a warm hand slipped into his, startling him.

  “I’m scared,” Selena said in a low tone, so low her brother couldn’t hear.

  “We’ll be all right,” Nate assured her. He felt decidedly uncomfortable having her touch him, but out of common courtesy he made no attempt to pull away. She must, he imagined, be thoroughly frightened by her ordeal, and since her brother wasn’t offering her any comfort, he might as well be polite.

  “If we do get out alive, I hope I can find some way to repay your kindness.”

  “There’s no need,” Nate said as inspiration struck. “Just having a female visitor to keep my wife company for a few days will be thanks enough. It isn’t often we get folks stopping by our little cabin.”

  “You’re married?”

  “To the loveliest woman on God’s green earth,” Nate replied. He half expected Selena to remove her hand from his, but to his amazement she actually gave him a squeeze.

  “I should have known a strapping, handsome man like you would have a wife. I’m very happy for her.” Selena’s features were blurred by the swirling snow. “I’ve never found the right man for me. Frankly, I don’t know if I ever will.”

  “Never give up hope,” Nate said.

  A bulky figure suddenly emerged out of the thickening white veil and grumbled, “How much longer are we going to stand here? I’m about frozen stiff, I tell you. At least we should start a fire.”

  “We don’t have any wood,” Nate mentioned. “And the wind is too strong up here.” He eased his hand loose and took a few steps forward, scouring the benighted slope. Not even an eagle would be able to see more than five or six feet in the snow inundating the Rockies. So, although he still preferred to wait a while longer, Elden’s tireless complaining prompted him to declare, “Mount up. We’re leaving.”

  Elden gave a whoop of joy and took his sister’s elbow to guide her to the sorrel.

  Nate stepped into the stirrups, then waited for them to come alongside him. “Listen closely,” he advised. “We’re going to walk to the bottom and head for the trees.”

  “Walk?” Elden said. “Is that wise? The savages will be able to pick us off easily.” He shook his head. “I say we ride just as fast as we can and don’t stop until we’re well in the clear.”

  “You were the one who was so worried about his horse falling a while ago,” Nate reminded the greenhorn. “Try going down this hill at a gallop and that’s exactly what will happen. The Bloods will hear and be on you before you can hope to get away.” He jabbed an arm at the layer of snow already covering the ground. “No, we go slow so we don’t make any noise. Since this storm will hide us from them, they won’t have any idea we’ve gone until it clears up.”

  “But what if we run into one of them at the bottom?” Elden’s asked apprehensively.

  “I know how far apart they’re spaced. We should be able to go between two of them without being spotted.”

  “You hope.”

  Nate sighed. “Stay right behind me. If we become separated, I may never find you again. The storm will wipe out all your tracks.”

  Selena spoke. “We won’t lose you. I’ll see to that.”

  Holding the Hawken across his left
leg, Nate lifted the reins and started the stallion downward at a slow walk. The swishing of the snow and the whistling of the wind were the only sounds. He peered intently ahead for any hint of movement. There was a possibility the Bloods were using the cover of the storm to their own advantage by sneaking toward the crest, and he didn’t care to bump into them halfway down.

  Nate had to lean back to adjust his balance as the slope steepened. His hands, no longer shielded by his fur mittens, were terribly cold, his fingertips practically frozen. His eyes played tricks on him, often mistaking elusive shadows for solid figures. He strained his ears to their limits, but heard nothing to indicate the Bloods had moved from their previous positions. Every so often he glanced around to insure the Leonards were where they should be.

  Eternity became compressed into mere minutes. Nate broke out in a nervous sweat under his buckskins despite the temperature. He had to guess at how far they had gone at any given point, and by his estimation they were two thirds of the way to the bottom when another seemingly solid form appeared off to his right. Nate looked, and the skin at the back of his neck tingled.

  It was a Blood, working his way uphill.

  Nate braced for a shout but none came. The brave had his gaze fixed straight ahead and didn’t spot them; within seconds the warrior was swallowed by the storm. Expelling the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, Nate continued lower. Just ten more yards or so, he reckoned, and they would be off the hill.

  The wind, which had been howling like a lonely wolf for minutes, abruptly slackened. The falling snow still hissed, and Nate could also hear the dull clomp of hoofs. He glanced up, wishing the wind would resume.

  When the change came, Nate was taken by surprise. One moment the stallion was plodding along with its body inclined, the next, Nate felt the horse level out under him, but he went a few feet before he awakened to the fact they were on flat ground again. Smiling, he twisted to check on his charges, who were right where they should be. He glimpsed Elden’s frightened face, and saw Selena staring to the left. She swung her head to look at him, and as she did her eyes widened, her lips parted.

  “Look out!”

  Nate spun. A stocky Blood was rushing toward him, a war club upraised. Nate tried to bring the Hawken to bear, but the Blood vented a bloodcurdling shriek and launched into the air, hurtling into him like a human battering ram. Nate felt the brave’s brawny arms encircle him, and then he was falling off the opposite side of the stallion.

  In desperation, Nate twisted, trying to flip so the Blood would be on the bottom when they hit. In this he was only partially successful. They both smacked down on their sides. The Blood instantly pushed back and swung the war club. Nate countered by bringing up the Hawken and deflecting the blow with the rifle barrel.

  Somewhere, someone was shouting.

  Nate drove the rifle stock at the Blood’s face, but the man jerked backward, out of reach. Scrambling to his knees, Nate blocked a second swing of the club. Then, reversing his grip, he thrust the barrel into the brave’s stomach, doubling the Blood over. There was a resounding crack as the stock connected with the side of the warrior’s head and the man crumpled, still game, though, as he proved by trying to slam the stout club against Nate’s legs. Nate raised the Hawken aloft, then brought the stock down one last time.

  The Blood went prone, blood oozing from the wound.

  Pivoting, Nate saw the stallion standing a few yards off. He also saw another warrior racing toward him.

  Selena and Elden Leonard, however, were gone.

  Chapter Four

  Nate King darted to his stallion, and was reaching for the saddle when he realized he would never make it. The second Blood was too close and notching an arrow to a sinew bowstring. Facing the brave, Nate drew his right flintlock. He cocked the hammer as the Blood raised the bow. He extended his arm as the Blood sighted along the shaft. And he squeezed the trigger a heartbeat before the Blood let fly.

  The arrow flashed across the intervening space almost too swiftly for the human eye to follow. Nate tried to throw himself against the stallion so the shaft would miss, but his right foot slipped in the snow. Aghast, he saw the barbed point rip into his right shoulder and felt the jolt of impact. The flintlock was nearly torn from his grasp. He had to will himself to ignore the wound and focus on the Blood. If he didn’t, another shaft would rip into his body at any moment.

  Concern proved unwarranted since the lead ball had bored into the warrior’s right eye and burst out the back of his cranium. He lay askew in the snow, a crimson pool framing his head.

  Jamming the pistol under his belt, Nate climbed onto the stallion and headed into the storm. Much to his disbelief, there was no pain in his shoulder. Nor did he feel any blood trickling over his chest and upper arm. He counted himself fortunate the shaft had missed a vital vein or artery, and he could only pray the wound wouldn’t become infected.

  Nate scoured the terrain for the Leonards. Either the sorrel had been spooked by the attacking Blood and fled on its own, which Nate doubted since it was a Blood warhorse, or Elden had once again displayed his yellow streak. They could have gone any which way. Nate looked and looked but there were no tracks. The snow was so heavy, it filled in prints as quickly as they were made. And the wind had increased again, lashing the loose flakes on the surface into a fine mist.

  From the hill came yells in the Blood tongue. The warriors knew their prey was gone and they would soon institute a search.

  Trees reared in front of Nate. He wound into them and stopped when he reached a quiet spot sheltered from the blowing snow by two wide spruces. There he slid his left hand under his robe, gingerly moving his fingers across his chest to the arrow. So numb were his fingertips by this time that he didn’t perceive what had happened at first. Then the truth dawned, and Nate laughed.

  The shaft had gone completely through the heavy robe, but had missed his arm by a hair. There was a slight tear in the sleeve of his buckskin shirt, nothing more.

  Overjoyed, Nate grasped the shaft, and with a sharp snap, he broke off the fletching. Next, by reaching around behind him, he was able to grab the shaft above the point and work the rest of the arrow loose. He discarded both pieces and rode on.

  Howling gusts tore through the trees, rattling the bony branches and the skeletal undergrowth. Nate slanted to the right, zigzagging as he sought some sign of the Leonards. The old saw about looking for a needle in a haystack came to his mind, yet he refused to quit. Without him, Elden and Selena would be dead in days. Not that Nate cared much one way or the other about Elden’s welfare. Selena, though, he liked, and he sympathized with her plight. He’d save her if he could.

  An hour later Nate was being nagged by growing despair. He was a mile or so from the hill and had covered twice that distance in his meandering hunt, but the Leonards had eluded him. For all he knew, the Bloods had captured them again. He toyed with the idea of going back, knowing if he did that he could wind up a captive himself.

  The storm took the decision out of Nate’s hands. It unexpectedly abated, the snow tapering to flakes, the wind dying to soft moans. He drew rein and rose in the stirrups to survey the countryside. An eerie stillness had seized the land, giving him the impression he was the sole living thing within miles. Then he heard a nicker to the southwest.

  Friend or foe? Nate wondered as he headed in that direction. Sooner than he anticipated he spied a lone horse standing beside a pine tree. Slowly moving forward, he recognized the sorrel and saw that its reins were tangled in a tree limb. Elden and Selena were nowhere around.

  The sorrel didn’t resist as Nate freed the reins and led it northward, back the way he figured it had come. There were a few tracks at first, then none at all. He covered a hundred yards, and was beginning to think he had made a mistake when a squeal of delight snapped his head up.

  Running toward him were Selena and Elden, both coated with white from head to toe. She had an arm around her brother’s waist, supporting him, while his fac
e was contorted in torment.

  Nate galloped to them and vaulted down. “What happened?” he demanded.

  “Elden rode into a low branch,” Selena explained. “It knocked both of us off.”

  “I hurt!” her brother complained. “Oh, how. I hurt! Some of my ribs must be shattered. You’ve got to do something to ease the pain!”

  Nate gazed past them. “There’s nothing we can do until we put some distance behind us. The Bloods might have heard that cry.”

  “Sorry,” Selena said contritely. “I couldn’t help myself. I was so happy to see you!”

  The gleam in the woman’s eyes bothered Nate, but he held his peace. In short order he had them both on the sorrel and was riding southward, sticking to the open ground where they could go faster. The snow had nearly stopped. Clouds hid the stars and constellations, so Nate had to guess at the time, which he calculated to be past three in the morning, maybe closer to four. Dawn was not far off.

  A craggy mountain towered above them when Nate eventually slowed. Enormous boulders dotted a bare tract encompassing several acres. He rode into the midst of this boulder field, then wearily halted. With the aid of Selena, he lowered Elden to a strip of bare earth at the foot of an egg-shaped monolith.

  “I can’t bear it,” the man whimpered. “Never, ever, have I been in so much pain. What shall I do?”

  “Let me take a gander,” Nate offered, kneeling. He lifted the coat and unbuttoned the suit. The white shirt underneath was spotless, nor were there any bloodstains on the wool undershirt. “It didn’t break the skin,” he commented.

  Consistently bitter, Elden responded, “What does a measly cut matter when a person’s ribs have been caved in?”

  Nate placed a hand on the left side of Elden’s chest and applied pressure. “Does this make the pain worse?” When Elden shook his head, he tried another spot, and repeated the procedure until he was assured there were, in fact, no broken bones at all. He informed them of this.

  “But my chest hurts, I tell you!” Elden insisted.