“I have not reached that point,” I said defensively. Or had I? Ever since I crossed the Mississippi River, I had become obsessed. But who could blame me, what with the bounty of new species to be recorded and the possibility of a position at a prestigious university?
We fell silent after that. Blue Water Woman moved so rapidly, I soon tired.
“Is it necessary we walk ourselves into the ground?”
“The sun waits for no one,” Blue Water Woman responded, and gestured at the eastern horizon.
A rosy glow presaged the dawn.
“How soon do you expect them to come after us?” I asked.
“As soon as it is light enough.”
I prayed she was wrong. They had horses. They would swiftly overtake us, and unless we were very lucky or very crafty, or both, we would again find ourselves their captives.
It was incentive to keep up with my liberator.
Suddenly I was struck by a thought. I was the man, yet she was saving us. Was I so puny that I needed a woman to rescue me? Yes, I am a naturalist, not a frontiersman or a soldier or a law officer, and my wilderness skills were laughable. But was that sufficient reason to let her take charge?
I decided it was. I was perfectly content to let her handle things. The arrogance that causes men to treat women as inferior, I can proudly state, is not one of my faults.
Degree by degree the sky was brightening. The sun had not appeared but the whole of the eastern sky was pink and orange. Some people say that sunrises never rival sunsets, but I have seen my share of dawns, and they can be as spectacular.
A bird warbled. As if that were a signal, a legion of others broke out in song.
Blue Water Woman stopped and cocked her head, listening. “They come,” she announced.
I did not hear them, but I took her word for it. We ran to a thicket and she dropped onto all fours and crawled in among the brambles, urging me to stay close to her. Not so easily done, what with the sharp tips of the branches threatening to poke out my eyes. We went forty or fifty feet and then were up and running, the thicket behind us, pines ahead. I sensed she was making for a specific spot and soon she proved me right. The vegetation thinned and we came to a stop on the bank of a stream.
“Wade in,” Blue Water Woman said, doing so.
“I know this trick,” I told her. “Zach used it to try and shake the Hooks and Cutter off our trail.” I added, “It didn’t work.”
“Let us hope we have more success.”
Sticking to the middle, Blue Water Woman headed downstream. She did not hike her dress as many white women would do.
The water was cold. I was soon soaked to near my knees. A stiff breeze from high up the mountain added to my discomfort.
Neither the water nor the wind seemed to have any effect on Blue Water Woman. She was made of iron.
In due course the sun poked over the rim of the world. The forest was alive with birds, and other small creatures were stirring after their night of rest.
“No sign of pursuit yet,” I said.
“They will come,” Blue Water Woman declared.
I wanted to keep talking. It took my mind off how cold I was, and my empty stomach, and my paintings and my journal. So I gave voice to the first thing that popped into my head. “Do you ever regret marrying a white man?”
Blue Water Woman broke stride and glanced back at me. “A strange thing to ask at a time like this.” She moved on.
“Zach King told me that a lot of whites and Indians look down their noses at those who wed outside their own kind.”
“I do not care what others think. I do not care what they say. I live my life as I want and not as they want.”
“You are happy, then?”
“Happy beyond words, Robert Parker. Shakespeare is a special man, and I am honored he loves me.”
“Have you ever wished Shakespeare and you had children?”
Blue Water Woman was quiet a bit, then she said, “It is my one great sadness.”
“Forgive me for asking.”
“When a woman loves a man, she desires to please him every way she can. I know Shakespeare dearly desired a family, and I yearned to give him one. But it was not meant to be.” She paused. “Perhaps it is just as well. We married late in life. It is hard when you are old to keep up with the young.”
Despite their years, I did not think of them as old. “I hope to heaven I have half his vitality when I am his age. Or yours, for that matter.” She moved with a supple grace I found enticing.
“My husband likes to say we are as old as we think we are,” Blue Water Woman mentioned. “When he has lived one hundred winters, I imagine he will behave as if he has lived fifteen.”
I chuckled.
“But to answer your question, no, I do not regret taking him for my mate. I love him, and I will go on loving him with all that I am until the day I die.”
At that instant I would gladly have pushed Shakespeare McNair off a cliff. But I settled for saying, “He is fortunate.”
Blue Water Woman glanced back at me again. “Tell him what I told you, Robert, if something should happen to me.”
“Don’t talk like that,” I said. Intimations of death crept over me, but I shrugged them off. Nerves, I decided. Nothing but nerves.
“We all die.”
“Yes, but we need not die today.”
“The time and place is not always ours to decide.”
I was uncomfortable talking about it. “Perhaps you are mistaken. Perhaps they won’t come after us, and the rest of the day will be uneventful.”
Hardly was the statement out of my mouth when we rounded a bend and Blue Water Woman drew up so abruptly, I nearly walked into her.
“What is it?” I asked, stepping to one side to see what she was seeing.
“Stand still!”
On our left was a bank, approximately shoulder height. And crouched on the bank was a mountain lion.
Chapter Sixteen
I had never seen a mountain lion up close. I knew they were big, but I never thought they were this big. The specimen crouched on the bank was almost ten feet from the tip of its nose to the end of its tail, and had to weigh close to three hundred pounds. The upper part of its body was a tawny hue bordering on gray; below, the chest and underside were white. It had a broad nose and piercing yellow eyes. Dark patches on both sides of its mouth accented its whiskers.
Even though it was poised to spring, I was not especially afraid. I knew of only a few instances where cougars attacked humans. Usually, they ran off.
Blue Water Woman extended her pistol, but she did not shoot, which was wise in my estimation since she could not be certain of killing it.
Then a rumbling growl issued from the giant cat’s throat, and it bared its formidable fangs.
Fear spiked through me. Mountain lions are incredibly strong and inhumanly swift. What with their teeth and their claws, they can shred flesh to ribbons. Should this one spring, our lives might be forfeit.
Blue Water Woman sidled to the left so she was between the mountain lion and me. “I will hold it off as long as I can, Robert. Run and keep running until you are sure it is not after you.”
Her willingness to sacrifice her life to save mine moved me deeply. “What sort of man do you take me for?”
“A smart one,” Blue Water Woman said.
“I will not desert you, come what may.” The idea was preposterous. I might not be much of a protector, but I would do what I could.
The mountain lion snarled, its long tail twitching. The sinews on its powerful legs stood out as it prepared to leap.
Of all the ways to die, this would be extremely unpleasant. I cast about for a good-sized rock or something else to use was a weapon, and when I glanced at the mountain lion again, it had uncoiled slightly and was staring up the mountain, not at us. The next instant it whirled and bounded into the forest, a tawny streak that was gone in the blink of an eye.
“What on earth?” I said.
Blue Water Woman turned, then bobbed her chin. “I told you, Robert. As soon as it was light enough.”
Riders had appeared. Three of them, not two, threading through the trees. They were too far off to notice features, but it could only be our pursuers.
“Jordy, too?” I had hoped he was dead.
“I stabbed at his heart, but the blade glanced off a rib,” Blue Water Woman said.
They had not seen us yet. All three were scouring the ground for tracks, the Hook brothers on one side of the stream, Cutter on the other.
Blue Water Woman’s hand found mine. “We must be quick, Robert.”
We continued down the middle of the stream. Another bend temporarily hid us. I was anxious to seek concealment, but she kept going, glancing right and left. I did not appreciate why until we came to a gravel bar.
“Step where I do,” Blue Water Woman said.
The gravel bar was covered with small stones and did not yield to my weight. I understood immediately. Except for the wet imprint of our soles, which would soon dry, we did not leave tracks. Crouching low so as not to be seen from above, I followed her into the woods.
Our enemies were a quarter of a mile above us, still paralleling the stream.
“We must find a spot to make our stand,” Blue Water Woman proposed.
“Maybe they will go on by,” I said.
“They will find us. Come.” Blue Water Woman ran to the north.
I wondered how we were to fight three well-armed killers when all we had was a knife and pistol. I did not say anything, though. After we had gone a few hundred feet we came on a low bluff.
Blue Water Woman stopped. “This will do nicely.”
Approximately twenty feet high and twice that long, the bluff was an isolated island in a sea of trees, mainly spruce and pines. The side facing us was sheer, but the crest could be reached by slopes on either side.
Blue Water Woman jogged to the right and took the slope at a run. I was puffing for breath when I caught up to her.
“Why here?” I gasped.
“I have a clear shot,” Blue Water Woman replied. “Then it will be two against two.”
“Once you fire, your pistol will be useless,” I mentioned. “What about the two you don’t shoot?”
Blue Water Woman nudged a fist-sized rock with her toe. “We will use what is handy.”
“Rocks against bullets?”
She faced me and her expression grew severe. “Listen to me, Robert. Listen closely. They plan to kill us. Whether now or later, our end will be the same. We must fight or we will die.”
“I understand that,” I said rather testily. I did not like being treated as if I were a simpleton.
“Do you truly?” Blue Water Woman persisted. “Because you seem to think it is silly of us to fight for our lives when we have so little chance of beating them. Or am I mistaken?”
I opened my mouth to tell her she definitely was—then closed it again when I realized she definitely wasn’t.
“I thought so.” Blue Water Woman placed her hand—the hand holding the bloody knife—on my shoulder. “I cannot do this alone, Robert. We must work together.”
I answered her honestly. “I told you before I will do what I can.”
Blue Water Woman squeezed my shoulder. “Very well. We must be true to our natures. I want you to go now.”
“What?”
“I want you to go,” she repeated. “You can be of little help to me, and I do not want you to die.”
“I told you I would not desert you.”
“Please, Robert,” Blue Water Woman said. “I cannot devote attention to you when they come. You would be on your own.” She smiled, not a mocking smile but a smile of genuine affection that cut me to my core. “I believe the white expression is that you would not stand a prayer.”
“I am staying and that is final.”
“Oh, Robert.” Blue Water Woman frowned, but she did not press the issue. She stepped to the rim.
“Tell me what to do and I will do it,” I said.
“I already did.”
“I will do anything but abandon you. There must be something. I am not totally worthless.”
“There is nothing you—” Blue Water Woman said, and caught herself. She glanced at me, her brow knit. “Your talent for making what you see so lifelike on canvas and paper. Can you do the same without a brush or pencil?”
“I am not sure I follow you.”
Blue Water Woman tugged at my jacket, then pointed at the trees below the bluff and to the right. “If you do it so they think it is you, it will give us a slight edge.”
I caught on and started down. “I will do you proud.”
“Robert?”
I looked back.
“Stay down there. When the moment is right, yell.”
“How will I know when that is?”
“You will know.” Blue Water Woman rose onto the tips of her toes and gazed in the direction of the stream. “We have five minutes, Robert. Less, perhaps.”
I ran. I chose a spruce near the bluff. Removing my jacket, I roved in search of downed limbs. The first branch I found had been on the ground so long it fell apart when I picked it up. The next branch was too thin. The third was too short. The fourth did not have leaves or offshoots. At last I found one that was suitable.
There were problems. How was I to replicate my head, for instance? Or my legs? Stripping off my jacket, I draped it around the leafy half of the branch. Then I jabbed the jagged end into the ground. It penetrated, but not deep enough for the limb to stay upright on its own. I jabbed and poked some more, but the ground was too hard. My only recourse was to lean the branch against the tree. I contrived to place it so that one shoulder, part of the front, and a sleeve were visible. I tucked the end of the sleeve into a pocket and stepped back.
At a quick glance, it would pass for someone standing behind the spruce.
“I see them, Robert!”
Blue Water Woman had flattened. She motioned for me to seek cover and then slid back out of sight.
Darting behind a pine a few feet away, I dropped onto my stomach. Every nerve tingled. I was scared, terribly scared, yet at the same time I was excited. Silly, I know. But that was how I felt.
Only then did it occur to me that I did not have a weapon. I glanced around and saw a rock about the size of a small melon. I hefted it. It was heavy, but I could throw it if I had to.
A faint drumming heralded their approach.
I sucked in a deep breath and pressed against the earth. My heart pounded and there was a roaring in my ears. Then the roaring faded, and I could hear the horses clearly. They were coming on fast.
The irony did not escape me. Here I was, a man of peaceful pursuits, about to engage in violence.
How do things like this happen? How can it be that we go through life minding our own business, wanting only to live as we please without hindrance, yet find ourselves at risk through no fault of our own? I am no pastor or philosopher, but it seems to me that our Maker has a cruel sense of humor.
These were the musings that ran through my mind as the hoofbeats swelled in volume, until all of a sudden the undergrowth crackled, and into the clear space below the bluff trotted Jess and Jordy Hook and their vicious friend, Cutter. They promptly drew rein.
Jordy Hook was not wearing a shirt. Bandages consisting of strips of buckskin had been crudely wrapped around the lower half of his chest. They were stained red with dry blood. He held a rifle, which he wagged excitedly. “They can’t be far! One of us should circle around in front of them so we catch them between us.”
“We stick together,” Jess Hook said. He was staring at the top of the bluff, as if he suspected something.
None of them noticed the branch with my jacket on it poking from behind the spruce.
I was in a quandary. Blue Water Woman had said I would know when the time was right to distract them. But I did not know whether to do it then or wait. If I waited too long, they would
ride off. What was I to do?
“Let’s keep going,” Jordy Hook urged. “I want them, brother. I want to break their bones and cut them. I want them to suffer until they scream.”
“We should rest the horses,” Cutter suggested. “We have pushed them hard and they are tuckered out.”
“To hell with the horses!” Jordy fumed. “That squaw stabbed me! I won’t rest until I have paid her back in kind.”
“Cutter has a point,” Jess said. “We can spare five minutes.”
I gnawed on my lower lip in worry. Any second, they were bound to spot the jacket.
“I am not waiting!” Jordy bellowed. “I will stop when we catch them and not before.”
“It is stupid to ride your animal into the ground,” Cutter said.
Jordy flushed with resentment. “Since when did you give a damn about our animals or anything else?”
“Be careful,” Cutter said.
“Or what? You will turn on me? You don’t scare me, Harold. I’ve killed as many as you.”
I peeked out at them. Did he just say Cutter’s real name was Harold?
“You are acting like a ten-year-old,” Cutter said. “But then, that is nothing new. Your brother was always more mature.”
Jess Hook reined his horse between them. “Enough! This bickering ends now. We’re partners, damn it. We must work together and cover each other’s backs.”
“Tell that to your brother,” Cutter said.
Their rancor was a welcome development. I half hoped Jordy would shoot Cutter to spite him.
“When I said enough, I meant it!” Jess Hook snapped. “This squabbling is senseless.”
“All right, all right,” Cutter responded.
Jess glanced at Jordy who was so mad he was fit to fly out of his saddle at Cutter. “And what about you? Forgive and forget?”
“When hell freezes over. He called me stupid and a ten-year-old. You heard him.”
“You’ve been called worse.” Jess tiredly ran a sleeve across his brow. “We must keep our wits about us, brother. It is not deer we hunt.”
“A squaw and a puny yack,” Jordy said. “They don’t stand a chance.”
“Tell that to the knife she stuck in you.”
“You can go to hell, too,” Jordy said.
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