Will helped Jenny climb up the creek bank. “It’s too slow going down there. It would’ve provided better cover, but since we’ve been spotted it won’t matter. We need better footing to put some distance between us. They’ll be riding ponies and catch up fast. We’ve got to run a while, Jenny. You up to it?”
“I think so. Rocks bruise my feet in these moccasins, but they’re better for running than high-button shoes.”
“I’ll hold your hand,” Will said. He looked into her eyes—they were definitely blue. He felt a flush creep up his face. “If that’s all right?”
“Yes, Will.” She squeezed his hand and smiled. “That’s all right.”
They ran hand in hand through the short grass at an easy trot, alongside the creek.
The way grew steeper as they approached the base of the Laramie Range. They were soon panting from the effort. Will felt Jenny dragging on his hand. He stopped.
“Let’s catch our breath,” she said.
Looking back, he saw a dozen ponies emerge from the trees that ringed the camp. He pulled Jenny down and they squatted in the deep grass. “Here they come.”
Will and Jenny watched the Indian ponies mill around along the bank of the creek half a mile away. One brave slid off his pony and inspected the grass. He pointed up the creek. He’d found their tracks.
“We’re making it too easy for them,” Will said. He closed his eyes for a moment to refresh his memory of the details on General Dodge’s map. “The last time I came up this creek, I turned south along the base of the range here until I reached Cheyenne Pass. They’ll either expect us to do that or go straight up Lodgepole Creek. Those are the two most direct ways across the range. But we’ll go up the North Fork. Hopefully, we can gain some ground while they check out the two more obvious routes.”
Will watched the tracker remount. The band of braves turned upstream to follow their trail. Paddy’s bowler hat looked out of place among the feathers.
“Let’s walk in the water again to conceal our tracks,” Will said.
“All right.”
He stepped off the bank and held out a hand to help Jenny into the creek.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “That’s colder than it was farther down.”
Will’s boots shielded his feet for a few moments before the water soaked through the seams, then he felt the cold that had shocked Jenny when the water had filled her moccasins.
The stream was heavily silted, the water opaque, making it hard to see the bottom. Will walked in front of Jenny, holding her hand behind him. Frequently he lost his footing, but her grip was strong enough to keep him from falling.
He stopped from time to time to look back. The Indians were obviously confident their quarry couldn’t outrun their ponies, because they came on at a leisurely pace. They shook their weapons above their heads and called back and forth to one another, laughing loudly. They were probably boasting about what they’d do to the two escapees when they caught them.
“Here’s North Fork,” Will said.
Lodgepole Creek passed through a defile straight ahead of them. A narrow branch joined the main creek here. It flowed from around the northern end of a pyramidal peak that rose abruptly four hundred feet above them.
They turned into the smaller stream. It was harder to maintain balance in the swiftly moving water. The pleasant murmur of the water that had flowed past the Cheyenne village was now a rushing, tumbling chatter.
They followed the narrow stream around the north end of the peak. Will halted and Jenny bumped into him. “Sorry. I was watching my feet.”
“We have to get around this,” Will said. He nodded to a dam of logs and branches that blocked their path. It rose five or six feet high and stretched thirty feet or so across the width of the narrow valley.
“What is it?” Jenny asked.
“Beaver dam.”
“Aiyee, aiyee, aiyee!” The cries were distant, but distinct.
“They’ve reached the junction of the creeks,” Will said. “It won’t be long before they’ve discovered we didn’t go straight or turn south. We’ve got to hurry.”
They trudged up the slope to the end of the dam where it was anchored against the south side of the valley. Here they broke into a trot along the shore of a pond that stretched a hundred feet behind the dam.
In the center of the pond, Will saw a mound of logs and debris. He stopped abruptly and Jenny ran into him again.
“Mmphm,” she said.
“That’s it!”
“What’s it?”
“The beaver lodge. We can’t outrun them. We have to get inside the lodge.”
“The lodge? That thing in the middle of the pond? How?”
“Swim.”
“Swim?” Jenny stared at Will. “I can’t swim.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll do the swimming.”
“But what if there are beaver in that thing?”
“There won’t be. Bullfrog Charlie said beaver were trapped out of here years ago.” He surveyed the tree stumps near the pond. They didn’t look like they’d been chewed recently. He wasn’t positive there weren’t beaver around, but they didn’t have a choice.
The shore along the artificial lake was rocky, so footprints would be concealed. Will stepped into the pond. “Wait here,” he said. “Try not to disturb the gravel. We don’t want to leave scuff marks.” He waded out behind the dam, pulled a log out of the jam, and pushed it to the shore in front of Jenny.
“Sorry, but you’re really going to get cold now. I want you to wade into the water and hug the log with your arms while I swim us out to the lodge.”
Jenny looked at the log—then at Will. “Will, I told you. I can’t swim.”
“I know. All you have to do is hold onto the log. The water’s cold. Don’t let the shock cause you to let go.”
Will steadied the log with one hand and reached for Jenny with the other.
She stepped into the icy water and blew out her breath. “Whew! That’s really cold!” She let Will lead her waist-deep into the pond.
“Now,” Will said. “Grab the log with both arms, and hang on tight.”
Jenny dropped to her chest and wrapped her arms tightly around the log, lacing her fingers together. Will shoved the log ahead of him and laid out fully in the water behind it. He drove the log forward with strong kicks of his legs.
He was soon breathing hard from the exertion. The weight of his water-filled boots made swimming difficult. He was thankful he had the log to hold on to. “You all right?” he asked.
Jenny shivered. “Barely.”
“We’re almost there. It’s deep here. Don’t let go.”
“What makes you think I’m going to let go?” She hissed through clenched teeth.
Will grinned. He liked her spunk. A final strong kick drove the log into the base of the beaver lodge. He climbed onto the lodge and pulled Jenny up beside him.
Will shoved his hat between some branches in the surface of the lodge. “Stay here while I find the way in.”
“I’m not going anyplace.” She was shivering so badly Will could hear her teeth chatter.
Will dove into the water and swam beneath the lodge. He and some schoolmates had dived into an old wreck on the bottom of the Mississippi once. He’d held his breath for a quite a while then, but he didn’t know how long he could hold it. He searched for the opening that would lead up into the center of the lodge. There it was. He swam back out from under the lodge and kicked hard to drive himself up.
He came up gasping. “Found it.”
He held a hand out to Jenny. “Into the water once more. I’ll take you to the opening. It’s under water.”
“Under water?” She shook her head, but slid into the water next to him.
“You’ll have to put your face in the water, Jenny. In fact, you’ll have to put your entire head under water. Can you do that?”
He could see the fear in her eyes—they were gray now. She nodded once, slowly.
“We’re going to dive straight down to the bottom of the lodge and swim beneath it a short distance to reach an opening that leads up into the center. We’ll be safe once we get in there.”
Jenny shivered. Her teeth chattered.
“When I tell you, take a deep breath and hold it. Close your eyes tight and don’t open them until we’re inside the lodge. You’ll have to trust me on this. Understand?”
“Yes.” She gritted her teeth. “Let’s get it over with.”
“Aiyee, aiyee, aiyee!” The cries came from below the dam. The Cheyenne knew Will and Jenny hadn’t gone the easier ways.
Will wrapped an arm around Jenny’s waist and pulled her close. “Eyes closed. Deep breath. Hold it. Now!”
He pulled Jenny under the water. He fought his way down the face of the lodge, using his feet and free hand to force them deeper. He could feel panic take hold of Jenny. She struggled against him. He knew she wanted to get back to the surface. He pushed down one final time and turned them forward beneath the bottom of the lodge. He held Jenny tightly against him with one arm and used the other to pull them forward, bumping along beneath the jumble of logs and branches. At the opening, he turned them upward, kicked hard, and they shot up inside the lodge.
“Oh,” Jenny gasped. She gulped air. Her hands flailed the water. Her black hair obscured her face.
“Easy.” Will spoke to her as if she were a frightened horse. “Easy. We’re safe now.”
Inside the lodge, the beavers had fashioned a small shelf on which they would have raised their young. “We have to crawl up there,” Will said, “to get out of the water.”
He heaved himself onto the shelf, lay on his side and scooted back against the outside wall of the lodge, then helped Jenny scramble up and curl her body in front of his.
“Cold,” she said. “So cold.”
He pulled her hair off her face. She shook all over.
“Don’t be such a prude, Will. I’m cold! Put your arms around me.”
He reached around her waist and pull her snugly against himself.
“Aiyee, aiyee, aiyee!” The Cheyenne’s ponies pounded along the bank of the pond.
“Well, and where’d they go?” Paddy O’Hannigan’s shout came from the edge of the pond. “Sure, and they can’t have gone far. They must be up the trail a piece, wouldn’t ye be thinking?”
Jenny sneezed. Hopefully the sound had been contained by the walls of the lodge and hadn’t carried to their pursuers. Will wished he could transfer more of his body heat to her—but he was shivering, too.
The chatter of the Indians and the snorting and stamping of ponies faded away. They’d ridden up the trail beyond the pond. Perhaps they were gone.
Then the sound of the ponies’ hooves returned.
“Why are we turning round?” Will heard Paddy shout.
“Black Wolf says no tracks.” It was Lone Eagle who answered. “Black Wolf is a good tracker. If he says no tracks. Then there are no tracks.”
Will heard the Indians calling to one another while they searched for signs.
“Maybe they’re in the lodge,” Paddy said.
“Maybe,” Lone Eagle said. “I will check.”
“Sh.” Will cautioned Jenny. If Lone Eagle actually came close to their hiding place they would have to be quiet. She nodded against his shoulder.
A pony snuffled. Will listened to the animal splash into the pond.
“Sure, and I’ll go with ye,” Paddy said.
The sound of the wading pony stopped.
“You swim?” Lone Eagle asked.
“No,” Paddy replied.
“Too deep here for the pony. I will swim there.”
Will heard the pony splash back out of the water, its hooves clattering on the gravel. He heard a gentler swishing of water as Lone Eagle waded into the pond. Then he heard the splash when the Indian plunged forward into the water. He listened to the rhythmic stroking as the swimmer drew closer.
Will searched for an opening in the side of the lodge to look out, but the beavers had been good constructors and had packed the logs and branches with mud. Even though the lodge had probably not been used for some time, they’d built a structure that would last.
He took his arms away from Jenny and scraped at the mud chinking with Lone Eagle’s knife until he’d dislodged a chunk. He worked at the opening, enlarging it enough to see out.
The swimming strokes ceased and Lone Eagle climbed out of the water. Branches shifted in the pile, rustling against each other. The shelf beneath Will and Jenny shook.
“Ah, now, see anything?” Paddy called.
“No,” Lone Eagle answered.
The lodge swayed as Lone Eagle climbed onto it. Will hoped Lone Eagle didn’t dislodge the whole structure and send it crashing to the bottom of the pond.
A face appeared directly opposite the opening Will had fashioned and peered in. Will locked eyes with Lone Eagle.
“Sure, and do ye see anything now?” Paddy called.
“No.”
Lone Eagle placed a foot over Will’s slouch hat, where it was stuck in the jumble of branches, and pushed the hat deeper into the tangle with a shove of his toe.
“Well, d’ye see anything, half-breed?” Paddy called.
Lone Eagle looked back toward the edge of the pond. “This Cheyenne finds nothing. The next insult from you and I will slit your throat.”
Shouting from below the dam announced the arrival of another Indian. Ponies stamped on the gravel along the shore and the chatter among the Cheyenne increased.
“And what be all this ruckus, Lone Eagle?” Paddy asked.
“Chief Tall Bear calls us back. A buffalo herd nears the village. He wants all the braves for a big hunt.”
“Buffalo?” Paddy said. “Ye are giving up the hunt because of some mangy old buffalo?”
“Buffalo means food and shelter for the Cheyenne this winter. Not many buffalo come now that the iron horse blocks the way and the white man slaughters them. Our village needs the buffalo to survive.”
Lone Eagle retreated from the top of the lodge. He disappeared from Will’s view. A splash indicated he’d plunged back into the pond. The logs and branches ceased swaying. Will blew out the breath he’d been holding. The splashing of water ceased after a couple of minutes. Lone Eagle had reached the shore.
“Well, now,” Paddy said. “For sure, and that don’t beat all. I’m betting them two are close to hand, and you savages are giving up the pursuit to go hunt buffalo.”
“Today we hunt buffalo,” Lone Eagle said. “Maybe tomorrow we can hunt for Will and Jenny.”
“Aiyee, aiyee, aiyee!” The braves’ ponies pounded away from the pond.
Jenny shivered fitfully. Will rubbed her shoulders. “We’ve got to wait a bit,” he said. “After we’re sure they haven’t returned, we’ll go. I’d like to get over the top of the range and start down the far side toward Fort Sanders before dark.”
“Will,” Jenny whispered. “I’m so cold.”
CHAPTER 48
* * *
Will hadn’t heard any sounds of horse or man alongside the beaver pond for what he thought must be a couple of hours. After Lone Eagle and the braves had departed, he’d heard a single horse, which must have been Paddy, riding back and forth a few times, but that had ceased.
Through the hole he’d made in the beaver lodge Will had tracked the path of the sun. The morning had remained clear, and the sun shining on the pile of logs and branches had warmed the interior of their shelter.
Their clothing had partially dried—Will’s wool shirt and trousers better than Jenny’s buckskin dress. Jenny’s teeth had stopped chattering.
“Will,” Jenny said, “I’m hungry.”
“Me too. I threw the only food I had at a dog to keep it from giving an alarm last night.”
Jenny raised the parfleche that she wore around her waist. “I have some pemmican here. I stole a piece yesterday. Maybe I had an inkling something was going to happen.”
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br /> She opened the parfleche and withdrew a handful of mush. “Oh, no. It’s water soaked, and falling apart. What a mess.”
“We can still eat it,” Will said. “It’s all we have.”
They picked pieces of meat and berries from the fatty mass.
Jenny withdrew her eagle talon from the parfleche and held it up. “Maybe it did bring luck, Will. Not sure why Lone Eagle let me keep it, but he did.”
Will grinned. “Told you it’d be lucky.”
“This parfleche is ruined. It’s soaked with grease from the pemmican. I’ll never get it clean. But I can use the thong to restring the talon. Can you do it?” She untied the parfleche and handed it to Will.
He cut the leather thong off with Lone Eagle’s knife, then strung the eagle talon on it and knotted the thong around Jenny’s neck. She slipped the talon beneath the neckline of the buckskin dress.
After the sun passed beyond the zenith of Will’s observation point, he decided it was time to leave. He wanted to find shelter before nightfall and build a fire to dry their clothes. He knew they wouldn’t be able to make it all the way to Fort Sanders. They were going to have to get wet again, but at least they wouldn’t have to dive beneath the water this time.
Will scratched at the opening with the knife to widen the hole he’d made in the mud-covered structure, then set about dismantling the intertwining branches. He pulled the maze apart until he had an opening big enough to squeeze through.
“Come on, Jenny. Let’s get out of here.”
Will wriggled through the hole and reached back to help her. He pulled his hat out of where Lone Eagle had shoved it, slapped it on his head, and slid into the water. He found the same log they’d used earlier and pushed it into position for Jenny.
“Sorry, but you have to get wet again.”
She shivered, slid into the water, and grasped the log. “Whew.” She blew through her pursed lips.
After leaving the pond, it’d taken them the rest of the afternoon to hike to the crest. The Laramie Plains stretched out before them. Far in the distance the sun dropped behind the Medicine Bow Range of the Rocky Mountains.
“This is as far as we go today, Jenny. It’s steep and barren on the way down from here. Won’t be any moon tonight. Too risky to go on in the dark. Besides, we’ll stand a better chance of not being discovered if we shelter here in the trees. And we need the wood to build a fire.”
Eagle Talons (The Iron Horse Chronicles: Book One) Page 22