by Ron Schwab
Ethan raised a hand and reined Patch to a halt. He said something to Jeb, before pressing his gelding past the other riders toward Skye. As he approached, it surprised her that she had not particularly noticed before how easily he sat in the saddle and maneuvered his horse. He was an incredibly handsome man in a roguish sort of way. The black roots of a beard were forming on a face that had not been touched by a razor since departing Lockwood, she assumed, and it somehow made his steel-gray eyes seem more wolfish. Or were they coyote eyes? She could never quite shake off Lame Buffalo's vision. Did she and this man share a destiny together? He thought he loved her once, and he had nearly asked her to marry him before she cut him short. What could he see now in a one-armed half-breed with a marred and swollen face? No, she felt the moment between them had passed.
Ethan reined Patch in beside her. "How are you holding up? Are you good for two more hours?"
"I am fine. I can ride as far as we need."
"Do you recognize any of this country?"
"It has been nearly ten years since I was at the trading post. I was a young girl. This mountain country all looked alike to me. All I remember is that we came up on this side of the river . . . probably this same trail . . . and then we crossed the river before going to the trading post. It wasn't far . . . probably little more than an hour . . . but I cannot be sure."
"Well, the sun is moving toward the downside in the west. After another hour, we'll start looking for a decent campsite. I hope we hear from McLarty soon. I worry that the renegades ambushed him, but the old devil's kept his scalp a lot of years, and I find it hard to believe."
Ethan returned to the head of the column and they moved out in silence. Even Running Fox had stopped his chatter, sensing, perhaps, that danger lay ahead. An hour later, when Ethan had said they would start looking for a campsite, Skye caught sight of the ominous black harbingers of death circling the otherwise clear, blue sky some distance up the trail. No one spoke a word, but she could see the others casting uneasy glances skyward. Of course, it could be a sign of any carrion, any of a hundred rotting animal corpses inviting the scavengers to do their job in nature's scheme. She could not help, though, but think about Ethan's concern for the man called One Ball McLarty.
A half hour later, Ethan disappeared around a bend in the trail. Then the column stopped, and she saw Jeb signal She-Bear to wait, while he rode ahead to join Ethan. Soon he returned, and Skye edged Razorback ahead, so she could hear Jeb speak.
"It's one of your girls," he said. "You may want to wait a spell."
She-Bear ignored him and kneed her gelding forward, passing Jeb as she followed the course of the bend. Skye guided Razorback past Running Fox and moved quickly behind Jeb, who had wheeled and followed She-Bear. Abruptly, she stopped when she saw Ethan and She-Bear just starting to slice the leather thongs that lashed the naked Prairie Flower's hands and ankles behind her back around a sturdy pine and the wider strip that anchored her neck, as well. Her breasts were two small caverns that had obviously become buzzard delicacies following their amputation. Her body was a mass of slashes, which she instantly recognized as mates to those on her own cheek and shoulder. Someone had attacked with an insatiable rage, and she speculated she was being sent a message in case she had survived and followed. Had her own escape triggered this unspeakable brutality? She wanted to cry and scream at the injustice of all that had happened, but she was truly beyond tears, and, once again, she made a place within her to bury the outrage.
She could only watch as Ethan and She-Bear lowered the girl to the ground. Jeb had already started digging a hollow in rocky ground in the forest off the trail, chopping out tree roots that blocked the way. He would not be able to clean out more than a foot, but they would wrap her in a blanket and cover it as best they could and then stack good-sized stones over the grave and leave further mutilation to the worms and bugs that would blend her with the soil. At the end, it did not matter whether the buzzards or scavengers below the ground disposed of her, she thought. A young, innocent life was gone. Skye hoped that there was indeed something men called a soul or spirit and that Prairie Flower was in a "better place," as her Quaker friends often called it. Today, she had doubts.
Skye dismounted and helped as best as she could with the covering of the gravesite, leaving the gathering of larger stones to the men. It was a work detail made up of grim and determined faces.
While they were finishing the task, Jeb asked Ethan, "How long ago do you think since they were here?"
"It's been cool. From the condition of the body, I'd say two days . . . no more."
"Do you think they know we're following?"
"Us in particular? No. But they must suspect there could be others trailing them. This was a taunt."
Skye interrupted. "Prairie Flower was gentle and kind. But she was not strong. She would have done anything to please these animals. She was afraid to go with us for the escape. She feared we would be caught and tortured. But this is how it will end for any woman who rides with them. Antelope will last longer because she tries to satisfy the men who mount her. She even seduces them, but if we do not find her soon, she will die a terrible death, just like Prairie Flower."
Ethan said, "We will find her soon enough. It doesn't take any skill to track this many men. The question is what we do when we locate them. They far outnumber us, and we're not likely going to surprise them. We're not an army where casualties are a part of the calculation of battle. No life is expendable as far as I'm concerned. This will take all of the skill we can muster."
23
Two days later, Ethan reined Patch around yet another turn in the trail that followed the Powder River's increasingly twisting course as it snaked its way over the rocks and down the mountainside. He suddenly found his path blocked by the scarecrow-like figure of One Ball McLarty.
"Well, Mr. Law Wrangler, it's about time you showed up. Thought maybe your good sense might have come around and you'd headed back home."
"I was wondering about you. I hope you've been earning the money I paid out."
"I always earn my keep. If you'll just follow me about a quarter mile up the trail, I've got a camp set up back in the woods a ways that should do us fine until you make up your mind about what you want to do from here on."
McLarty turned and began walking up the trail. Ethan signaled the others to follow. Soon the mountain man turned off the river trail and angled through the trees. Ethan dismounted and led the gelding through the maze of pine until they broke into a natural clearing that would make a prime campsite with minimal axe work. As the travelers began to enter the site, McLarty stared at the entourage in apparent disbelief. Ethan, seeing the man's confusion, quickly explained. "I've recruited some help since we last talked."
"Help? Two squaws . . . and one of those looks to have caught her paw in a bear trap and mashed up her face biting it off. And then you bring another Injun that about lost his scalp, so it seems. Why, that's some army when you add them to a papoose, a darky, and a lawyer. By God, we ought to be able to whip a company of U.S. Cavalry."
Ethan resisted the temptation to respond. He was too damned tired to play the chivalrous knight defending the delicate ladies from insult. Skye would probably resent it anyway. The women in their pack seemed to defend themselves well enough. "Where can we graze the horses?" he asked instead.
"They'll have to smell it out, but there's still some decent patches of grass back in the trees to the east. I caught me a nice batch of trout if Mr. Oaks wants to see if he can make them edible. Even got half of them gutted."
Jeb and She-Bear went to work building a small cooking fire, while Running Fox and Skye gathered wood. Ethan and Badger Claw tended to the horses. Ethan was starting to get accustomed to the warrior's seemingly hostile attitude, and they communicated well enough with signs and a few words of both English and Sioux which each had come to realize the other understood. Ethan reminded himself that the warrior had lost his wife in the massacre and had undergone the
embarrassment and tragedy of leading his war party into the jaws of a bloody ambush. The experience would not lighten a man's mood. He needed to cut the guy some slack. He also had to admit that he might be a bit wary because of the way the warrior constantly had his eyes on Skye. It didn't help that Running Fox had planted a seed of suspicion with his comment that Badger Claw was stalking Skye as a potential wife.
When he returned to the camp after staking out the horses, he saw McLarty standing off to the edge of the clearing with a tin plate full of roasted fish with beans and a few biscuits. The man tossed his head, signaling that Ethan should join him. Ethan would have preferred to grab his own plate of food, but he knew Jeb would hold some back.
He walked over to McLarty. The man took a bite from a biscuit and closed his eyes as he seemed to be savoring the taste. "Your darky's damned good with the pots and pans. I'll give him credit for that."
"He's not my darky, and I'd take it kindly if you would refrain from calling him that."
McLarty shrugged, "What are we going to do about those folks you're after?"
"You're the one that's been scouting them. How close are we?"
"Only a few miles. We can cross the Powder with our horses no more than a quarter mile upriver. They're holed up at an old trading post less than two miles due west of the crossing."
"They'd have their own scouts watching their backside. They'd know we're here."
"They had two scouts, as a matter of fact. I sent them on a trip down the Powder. Surprised you didn't see them along the way."
"You killed them?"
"Let's say they went to sleep last night and never woke up. Their horses are grazing with my own. Added a Sharps and a Winchester to our gun collection. Saved their coats and bedrolls, so our little army can pick over what's needed. We got three days before it snows, and we'd better be collecting gear for the storm."
"You know this for sure?"
"I do."
Ethan wasn't about to question a man who had spent a lifetime in these mountains. He had worried about storms moving in. That could be a greater threat than the raiders' guns.
"We need to make our move soon. We're outgunned by a lot."
"I'd say they're down to a dozen men."
"I'd like to cross the river tomorrow. You and I can scout out the place during the day and make our plans for an attack. I'd like to wait till right after sundown tomorrow."
"I like night. We can even the odds before a shot's fired."
"We'll talk in the morning." Ethan started to walk away.
"Law Wrangler?"
Ethan stopped and turned around. "What is it?"
"You got a claim on that one-handed squaw?"
"Her name's Skye dePaul. I don't think any man has a claim on her."
"She's some woman even with that beat-up face and half an arm. That baggy garb she's got on don't hide the female underneath. Damned if I wouldn't like to poke around in her bush awhile."
"If you try it, don't ever close your eyes again, or they'll be calling you No Balls. I guarantee it."
McLarty gave a rare grin and returned to his meal.
After supper, Ethan, Skye, and Running Fox handled the clean-up, and Ethan noticed that Jeb and She-Bear took advantage of the break to wander off in the woods. Later, they split up sentry duty, Ethan deciding that with McLarty back in camp, a single guard was sufficient. Jeb volunteered for first watch, mentioning casually that She-Bear had offered to stand watch with him. Ethan chided the cowhand a bit, reminding him not to be distracted from his duties.
While they were laying out their bedrolls for the night, Ethan saw that She-Bear was gathering up her few belongings and moving them to Jeb's bedroll. It was obvious she was changing accommodations. He was not surprised. The pair had been virtually inseparable since the young woman's arrival. It appeared Skye had ended up with the buffalo robe the two women had been sharing. Ethan looked down at Running Fox, who was just getting ready to burrow into his own robe.
"Fox," he said, "I think we're going to move." He nodded toward Skye at the opposite side of the clearing.
The boy's eyes widened, and he gave a big smile. "That good. Me think she like that but not say so. Me like it good. You like it. We all like it."
He knew that the boy would not object, but he was surprised with the enthusiasm. They started gathering up their gear and bedrolls and carrying them across the campsite. He dropped his bedroll a few feet from Skye's robe, and Running Fox laid out his robe next to Ethan's spot.
Skye was on her knees making up her own bed and looked up. "What are you doing?" she asked.
"It looks like She-Bear moved out, so we thought we'd move our stuff over here."
"You mean you think just because she leaves, you can move in."
"It's not a room or even a cabin. We just thought you wouldn't mind somebody else in the vicinity."
"Somehow I don't think this was Running Fox's idea."
The boy saved the day. "Oh, me want to be close to Sky-in-the Morning. She my friend, too. Now me be with both my friends."
Let her tell the orphan that she didn't want him near, Ethan thought. This was a hell of a smart kid. He tussled the boy's hair and winked and got an exaggerated wink back. Skye stood up and looked at them both with narrowed eyes. He thought she was fighting back a smile on tight lips.
"I guess you can sleep wherever you want. Up to a point," she quickly added.
24
They regrouped after everyone had crossed the Powder River with little difficulty. They had brought the pack horses and Badger Claw's spare mounts and the extra horses McLarty had appropriated as well. Skye and She-Bear had laid claim to the dead men's coats and were cocooned in the bulk of leather and sheepskin lining. It had turned colder, and a wind had come up during the night and both had welcomed the extra cover this morning. It occurred to Ethan that the women were completely attired in garments of men recently deceased, down to the scalp that She-Bear still carried on her belt.
"We'll need to leave any horses we're not riding here," Ethan said. "Unpack and unsaddle the animals and make a stack of supplies and gear in the woods. We'll have to turn the horses loose and round them up later. They'll stay together and shouldn't stray far. There's still decent grass here and water nearby. We can't tie them or stake them out, because we don't know when we'll be back." Or if, he added silently.
When the supplies had been stashed and the extra horses released, Ethan gathered the party again. "One Ball has scouted the place where the renegades have set up camp. They've taken over an old trading post that was operated by Skye's father some years back. Skye visited here when she was a child."
"This seems like a might strange coincidence to me," McLarty piped in. "You hadn't said anything about this woman having a connection to the place."
Ethan glanced at Skye, who nodded her head somberly, which he took as her consent to tell the story. He gave a condensed version that explained that Skye's father had come into a substantial amount of gold coins and that Quint knew about it and had hoped Skye knew where they were hidden, expecting her to disclose the location.
McLarty's eyes shot sparks. "I thought we was on the trail to rescue some Indian maidens, two which done rescued themselves. Only one left at most. Is this really a goddamned treasure hunt? Are we looking to get kilt for somebody else's gold?"
"This was never a treasure hunt. Skye didn't learn about any gold until the day she escaped. We still want to free Antelope, and these men should pay for their crimes."
"I'm still in. But mark my word, if any gold gets turned up I'm expecting a fair share for my work. This raggedy-ass outfit would have been feeding buzzards way back on the trail if I wasn't around to nursemaid you."
Ethan thought the man was overstating his value to the mission, and McLarty's anger was not a welcome turn, but he decided to deal with that later. "We should be able to ride within about a half mile of the old trading post without being seen. We'll tie our horses and wait till dark before w
e walk in. Running Fox will stay with the horses to keep them from getting spooked. We should be to the southeast of the building site. I want Jeb and She-Bear to circle and move in from behind the cabin, and Skye and I will come from the south. One Ball and Badger Claw will take the east side. There are probably some guards posted. There's an old privy to the east of the cabin, and I'm hoping a few will make visits there. We want to kill as many as we can without firing a shot. Don't use a gun unless you have to. We'll offer their lives for Antelope's if it comes to that. Unfortunately, we're going to have to play this by ear. Any questions?"
"Yeah." It was McLarty again. "I ain't going in there with the fool Injun. Don't like him. Don't trust him. You go with him. I'll go with your woman."
"First, Skye's not my woman. But if she has no objection, I'm fine with Badger Claw." He looked over at Skye. Her dark eyes were calculating something. He could see that. And he could see both eyes now. The flesh about her eye was a kaleidoscope of purples and blacks and blues, but the swelling had subsided dramatically, and the puffiness of her damaged cheek was dissipating, although the wounds were still raw. She-Bear's concoction was doing its work, he concluded.
Skye meaningfully stroked the butt of the Army Colt that was holstered and belted around the waist of her heavy coat. "He can come with me. But remember, old man, I'm an Injun, too."
McLarty grinned rakishly. "No offense intended, Miss Skye, I got me a Cheyenne squaw I wouldn't trade for ten horses. We're going to have a little sprout any day. Already could've, for all I know, while I've been on this fool's chase."
Ethan did not like the idea of Skye pairing off with the old mountain man, but he conceded that McLarty was probably the most competent of them all when it came to killing. She was probably safer with One Ball than with himself.
25
Skye and McLarty weaved through the woods that surrounded the old trading post. The sweet smell of smoke from the dilapidated structure's fireplace drifted their way and carried memories of fall evenings she spent there with her father one trading season. It was a calm evening, still and windless, but an unpleasant chill was descending on the mountains. She saw no evidence of human movement about the buildings. They had anticipated a string of guards along the outer edges of the post and sagging stables site. This troubled her some.