Nomad Found: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 1)

by Craig Martelle

  The poison’s fire smoldered, no longer flames licking into her body. Her leg was loosening up as the she-wolf fought the poison.

  She picked up the bulk of the snake in her mouth and trotted back the way she’d come, following her own trail by the scent she’d left. When she arrived at her clothes, she changed into her human form. The scrape from the snake’s fangs were gone, and the evil of its poison was almost completely cleansed from her body. Char dressed, picked up the snake, and strolled back into camp.

  Terry roused as Clyde’s tail pounded him with joy at seeing his alpha. She stroked the mutt’s fur, then scratched behind his ears and around his neck. Char had never considered owning a pet, least of all a dog, but here she was, and she liked it. Clyde asked for so little in return. In that way, he was like Terry Henry Walton. The two mutts of her new pack. She smiled to herself.

  When Terry opened his eyes, he saw the remains of the fat rattler. He sat up and took it from her. He held out his hand for his knife, which she’d forgotten about. When he had it, he started to gut and skin the snake.

  “You didn’t do a very good job cutting the head off. Was my knife really that dull?” Terry asked pointedly.

  “Ohhh,” Char started. “It was dark,” she countered. He shook his head and removed the part where the Werewolf had bitten through it and then he cut another section away from that. What would Werewolf saliva do to his people? He didn’t want to find out. He threw those bits in the fire before anyone could make the mistake of trying them.

  He skinned the snake, keeping the skin, knowing that he’d be able to make something out of that later, maybe even wrap the handle of his bullwhip. He cut the rattler into smaller pieces and threw that into the remainder of the dinner stew. He added more water and dusted sage into it. Sagebrush seemed to be the single item one could find anywhere throughout the wasteland.

  Terry looked forward to eating a little more. He’d skimped on dinner, as had the others. Ivan said that he could probably cover the entire night, although Mark was ready to take the post whenever Nightwatch woke him. Devlin and Jim were equally ready.

  Mark lifted his head when Terry added a few sticks to the fire and it burst back to life. The new concoction didn’t smell great, but food was food when traveling through the wasteland.

  Char snuggled next to Clyde and quickly fell asleep. Terry saw that she was halfway onto his blanket and that Clyde took the rest of it.

  Just like being married, he thought. He really wanted that blanket as he knew the night would be cool. At this altitude it was almost always cool in the evening. Once he and Mark ate their fill, he kicked dirt over the fire to put it out, then wrapped himself around Clyde, letting the dog provide warmth. He soon found that Char was generating more heat than Clyde. That should not have surprised him, but it did.

  He got close enough so that he felt like he was sleeping in front of a fire, hugging a bear rug to him.

  To Mark, it looked like Clyde, Terry, and Char were intertwined as a single being. He thought about it, jealous for only a moment, then envious, before finally realizing that it didn’t matter. She was her own person and could choose who she spent time with. He trusted Terry and Terry trusted her. Easy as that.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Sawyer sat on his horse, feeling like his old self. His head was clear and his body responded to his demands. It had been a couple weeks since the bitch had hit him in the head, and now that he could think clearly, he couldn’t remember what she hit him with. He thought it was just her hand, but that was impossible. He convinced himself that she’d been wearing brass knuckles.

  It was the only answer that made any sense to him. His eye socket was tender to the touch, so he kept his fingers away. He rode on their best horse, happy that his people had seen that was the only option. Jagoff was on a horse, as were four others. The rest were walking. It hurt the man to see those miserable souls pack their meager belongings together so that the five men on horseback could carry their goods. Sawyer carried nothing extra, but he was heavier than any two of the other men.

  Sawyer led the way, setting a pace that made those on foot run. Some in the back were walking and the ones up front were running as much as they could. All it did was spread the fifteen out across a long distance. Fifteen men struggled to keep up.

  Sawyer continued to ride ahead, feeling that they’d catch up if they wanted to eat. All their food was on the horses. Jagoff tried to stay with the people, but he knew that wouldn’t work because Sawyer would flip out. He told the walkers he was sorry and waved goodbye.

  Jagoff galloped ahead until he caught up with the others on horseback. Sawyer glared back at him, then waved him forward. The man exhaled deeply, still feeling the pain from his last beating. His rifle was so close. He could end it, but Sawyer Brown provided for him when he was dying, and he continued to provide for the mass of humanity that gathered around him. If his only deprivation was to hit and kick people, it was a small price to pay for life.

  Trying to hold that thought in mind, he rode even with the big man. “What’s up, boss?” he asked guardedly.

  “I thought we’d lose those lazy fuckers. That was always a gamble, but we can’t afford to wait. We’ll continue to ride ahead, rifles at the ready. We shoot first and ask questions later. Pass it to the men and then get back there and tell those stupid bastards to hurry up. They don’t want to fall too far behind. They’ll get lost in the wasteland and then no one will be able to save them, not even me,” Sawyer growled.

  Jagoff tipped his head and rode back down the line. “Rifles loaded and at the ready, boys. We’re hunting assholes, and they are in season. Shoot first, ask questions later. Ride in pairs, you knuckleheads, so one of you can watch right and the other left.” He waved dismissively at them before spurring his mount back to the walkers.

  He pulled his horse up short and waited for the first man to arrive. A younger man was breathing heavily, when he ran up and stopped, leaning on Jagoff’s horse. “Do your best to help the others find their way. I’ll leave a trail for you, mark the ground if we make a turn, so you know which way we went. The boss is pressing forward. I don’t think he’s going to wait, but you have to catch up to us if you want to eat.”

  Jagoff looked up the road and saw that Sawyer Brown had disappeared around a corner. Jagoff took his saddlebags off and slid them down to the man. “I hope it’s enough food for the group for a couple days at least. Spread it around and do your best,” he told the man. Jagoff nodded and spurred his horse forward. He hung on as the beast galloped down the road, its ad hoc shoes clanging oddly as each hoof hit the ground.

  When he caught up with the others, he stayed in the back by himself, magazine inserted in his AK47 and barrel pointed skyward so he could shift it right or left more quickly. The others faced their rifles outboard, toward the fields and scrub on either side of the road. Sawyer rode in the front, sullen but alert. His head turned back and forth as he incessantly scanned the horizon. Jagoff had never seen the boss afraid like this.

  Sawyer Brown was dangerous when he acted like he didn’t care, but Jagoff wondered what he could unleash when the big man was singularly focused on revenge.

  * * *

  “It’s getting cold early this year, Marcus,” Ted said, trying to get in the alpha’s good graces.

  Ted didn’t understand that inane small talk wasn’t the way to impress the great wolf that led them.

  “Fuck off,” Marcus had replied.

  He glowered from the woods toward a small valley, high between a couple perpetually snow-covered Rocky Mountain peaks. Elk grazed peacefully, unaware that at that moment, seven Werewolves stalked them. Marcus had ordered the pack to take them all. Four she-wolves and three of the males were inching toward the open ground. On command, they’d bolt into the small herd together.

  The goal was no less than one kill each. Marcus delivered his expectation to the pack and turned them loose. The Werewolves usually hunted elk in pairs, but he wanted to send
a message to his wolves. By doing his bidding, the others would have to raise their game.

  Tim slinked away, hoping to join the others, maybe even make a kill of his own. Only actions impressed Marcus. There were no words that could change his mind.

  He did not think kindly of Tim. Although Marcus had called Tim a twatwaffle, he thought better of him than that, but not much. Those were only words. Marcus watched the Werewolves break cover as one and flow across the field, each selecting a single elk as their prey.

  With a good hunt, maybe they’d return early and see what kind of progress Char made in infiltrating the human village. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but the taste of human called to him, a forbidden fruit, a magical elixir that turned him into a dark and brooding master of the Were world.

  Maybe the Forsaken would see him in a new light. He could only hope.

  * * *

  When Sawyer finally stopped for the evening, he’d gone far beyond anything the walkers were going to manage. He made the men spread out, and ordered that they eat their food cold because he wouldn’t allow any fires. Jagoff felt as if they were going to war like real soldiers.

  Sawyer Brown continued to brood over the situation. There were only six of them riding far in front of the other fifteen. He could set up and wait, or continue to press forward. Once he found his enemy, he planned on ambushing them. Sawyer was under no illusion that he was in the weaker position. It was also not beneath him to shoot a man in the back, or a woman for that matter. All he had to do was find them before they found him.

  When the horses were hobbled in an old field and the men set in a good hundred yards away, Sawyer thought he heard a familiar howl.

  At that point he knew.

  He walked carefully from one man to the next. “Be ready, sleep in shifts,” he told them. “These fuckers are like the night wind. They will show up without a sound and then you die. There is no in between.”

  The men looked terrified, but Sawyer growled at them, angry at their fear, while his own tormented him. “I’m not telling you this so you can be afraid, dumbasses! I’m telling you this so when you see them, you can know that you’ve prepared yourselves to beat them. We will ambush them, and we will kill them all. Once you’ve seen the first person fall, you’ll feel the power you carry. You’ll feel what it’s like to be me. So be ready and when we see them, we don’t hesitate. We pull them in and we unload on them. Spare no ammunition. Light ‘em up and watch ‘em die!”

  Sawyer smiled. His attempt at motivating his men was working to improve his own attitude. He slapped a couple of the men on the back and nodded to them. From one to the next, he made them look him in the eye. When he finished, he walked tall with swagger as he headed back to his own position in a culvert to the side of the old, broken road they traveled.

  The big man settled in to his own thoughts as he crouched, only the top of his head sticking out over the edge of a small berm. He looked for silhouettes, for movement from an enemy he was convinced was doing the same thing that he was doing. If they didn’t see them on the way, then his men would be more than ready when they reached the town. All they’d have to do was hide and wait. That man called Terry Henry and Purple Eyes would show themselves. He’d finish them, and everyone else.

  The whole world would learn what it was like when you pissed on a man like Sawyer Brown.

  * * *

  Terry Henry woke up in the middle of the night to check on his people. He had to extricate his sweat-covered arm from Char. Clyde woke up too, and followed Terry as he carefully made his way to the observation post. He found Ivan wide awake.

  He’d heard Terry and Clyde approaching, confirmed that it was them, and returned watching to the south and west.

  “I don’t how you do it, Nightwatch, but the others will thank you greatly for a full night’s sleep. You going to be able to sleep on your horse?” Terry asked.

  “Are you kidding? I spent half the day today asleep in the saddle. I feel great, Mr. Walton, and thanks for giving me a chance,” Ivan said in a low voice.

  Terry looked at the man, still overweight, although not as much as before. “We all bring something to the game. I’d like to think that all anyone needs is a chance and someone to believe in them. Don’t think that means I’ll take it easy on you, either. We’re in a hard business. If we fail, people die. So we train, harder and harder, so we don’t lose, ever. You know the difference between an amateur and a professional, Nightwatch?” Terry asked.

  Ivan turned his head and pursed his lips before answering. “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Amateurs practice until they get it right. Professionals practice until they can’t get it wrong. Which one do you think we are?”

  “We can’t afford to get it wrong, because then people die. I get you. These knuckleheads don’t stand a chance,” Ivan said confidently, louder than he intended.

  “Don’t get cocky, Nightwatch.” Terry gripped the man’s shoulder, happy to have him on board. “It’s okay to wake up one of the others and get some shut-eye. We don’t want our folks getting lazy, now do we?”

  Terry took Clyde into the scrub so they could relieve themselves, then they returned to their camp. The others hadn’t moved, except for Char.

  She was nowhere to be seen.

  * * *

  “What gives, Billy dear? Come back to bed,” Felicity called from underneath a thick comforter. Billy stood at the window, wrapped in a thin blanket. He looked south, always south, because that was where the enemy had come from. That was where his security chief had gone with all his people.

  That left Billy Spires to hold down the fort on his own.

  If Terry didn’t stop them, Billy would be almost powerless. A few weapons, almost no ammunition. And just him. Everyone else worked. No one could stand guard if people wanted to eat, if people wanted fresh water, firewood for the winter. So much to do, and so few people to do it. Billy Spires thought about the hundred or so people who called New Boulder home. It wasn’t that many, fewer than a number of years ago, but they hadn’t lost anyone recently.

  Besides that dickhead John. Terry killed him and the whole world seemed to be a better place. With Char, they added two and lost one. A net gain.

  Char. What a magnificent creature she was. Billy couldn’t figure her out. She would flirt, but she was stone cold, too. She had eyes only for Terry Henry Walton, he was convinced of that.

  Who wouldn’t?

  Even Billy thought Terry was a Roman God. Where had these people come from? The wastelands weren’t kind and here, in the course of only a few weeks, two beautiful people appeared. The wastelands belched out refuse, not the best that mankind had to offer.

  “What the fuck?” Billy said.

  “Watch your mouth, Billy dear,” Felicity mumbled, half asleep.

  “What’s up with those people? Did they just take off, leave us high and dry, or are they actually out there, protecting us?” the mayor asked the darkness of the night.

  The only doubt he carried was in the stories his own mind told him. He’d never met a man of honor before, but that was all Terry Henry Walton had ever shown him. He said what he was going to do, and then he did it. That was how someone demonstrated they could be trusted.

  It was as simple as that.

  “You better fucking win, Terry. Don’t make me have to train another security guy. We just got you tightened up…”

  * * *

  False dawn drove the cold to the ground as light started to appear in the east. Sawyer Brown was already standing, holding his horse, watching. No one had seen him recover the beast from the nearby field. The others hurried after their own mounts as soon as Jagoff woke them and kicked them in the pants. They all turned when they heard footsteps. A couple men fumbled with their rifles, but Jagoff waved at them to put their weapons away.

  The walkers had arrived.

  The lead man had rallied the group and they walked for four hours and rested for two throughout the remainder of the day and the
night. A couple people limped, but most looked no worse for wear. Sawyer showed a toothy grin when he saw the others arrive. He’d left them to their own devices, and they’d come through.

  He was becoming a good leader that the people followed willingly. He climbed on his horse and rode to meet the people.

  “Well done,” he told them, without preamble or further explanation. He turned and let his horse stroll forward, but stopped almost immediately, holding a hand up for silence.

  They all looked at the big man in shock. “There is no higher praise in the land,” Jagoff whispered into the young man’s ear. He thrust a fist in the air, pumping it as Jagoff ran toward the field to collect his ride.

  The other mounted men had missed the exchange and sat, waiting to follow their boss up the road. Jagoff climbed into the saddle and waved at the walkers one more time as he turned his attention to the statue ahead that was Sawyer Brown.

  * * *

  “Char! Where the hell are you?” Terry called in a rough whisper. No answer. He climbed from the low ground they were sheltered in, stood on a mound, and looked around. He saw nothing. “Char? Char!” he said in an almost normal voice.

  “I heard you the first seven times, crazy man,” she whispered from not far away. Terry put his hands on his hips and glared at her. “Can’t a woman visit the facilities in peace without some man thinking she needs to be protected?” she asked pointedly as she strolled toward him. He walked toward her, angry that she left without his knowing.

  Why was he so upset? Did he think she was going to abandon them? Was he counting on her so much that he didn’t think he could do this alone? He struggled with the questions that pounded the inside of his skull. “I care. I care about you and the others all the same. I was surprised, and I don’t like surprises.”