‘You take a lot for granted.’
‘Spare us your idle threats. If you were going to harm Cadena and me, you would have done so by now.’
Zach almost regretted what he had in store for them. Almost. He let them rest for five minutes; then it was back in the saddle. Another hour of difficult riding, of more steep slopes choked with timber, brought them to the spot he had been making for all long.
It was a high country park, as the mountain men called them, a grassy vale half a mile broad, replete with wildflowers, situated between two ridges. Zach cantered to the center, leading the women. ‘This is as far as we go,’ he revealed as he drew rein. ‘Off your horses.’
‘Another rest so soon after the last?’ Lady Kilraven said. ‘Have you a kernel of compassion in that heathen body, after all?’
‘You are a fine one to talk about compassion, lady,’ Zach criticized, ‘after what you and your husband wanted to do to the Wards.’
‘Oh, please,’ Saxona said. ‘The strong have always lorded it over the weak. It is the nature of things.’
‘Remember you said that in an hour or so.’
‘What do you mean?’
Zach fixed his attention on the ridge they had crossed to reach the park. He figured it would be a quarter of an hour before Lord Kilraven reached it.
Both women were regarding him in puzzlement.
‘What are you up to?’ Cadena asked. ‘Why are we just waiting here? Do you want them to catch up?’
Zach went on watching the ridge.
‘You could at least have the decency to answer her,’ Lady Kilraven complained. ‘I don’t understand, either. You stole us from our camp. You brought us all this way. And now what? Is it your intention to slit our throats and leave our bodies for my husband to find?’
‘I don’t make it a habit to kill women,’ Zach said dryly. ‘But if you are that set on having your throat slit, I might be able to oblige you.’
‘You make no sense,’ Lady Kilraven declared.
‘The strong over the weak, remember?’ Zach reminded her.
The two women moved off a few yards and whispered. In a short while they were back, and they were plainly worried.
‘I agree with my niece,’ Lady Kilraven said. ‘You are up to something. I would very much like to know what it is.’
‘Get used to disappointment.’ Zach looked at them and experienced a twinge of conscience. ‘Is there any chance you could persuade your husband to forget about his hunting preserve and head back to England?’
Saxona’s mouth curled in a sneer. ‘I wouldn’t try, even if I thought he would listen to me.’
‘That’s too bad.’ Zach steeled himself for what he had to do. ‘You have called the thunder and lightning down on your heads. I wash my hands of the whole lot of you.’
‘Whatever are you talking about?’
Zach tensed. Several riders had appeared. Severn and some others. He quickly climbed back on the sorrel and snagged the lead rope. ‘Your rescuers will be here shortly, ladies. You might not believe this, but I wish there had been another way.’
‘Wait. You are leaving us here?’ Lady Kilraven said.
‘And taking our horses?’ From Cadena.
A jab of Zach’s heels brought the sorrel to a trot. He crossed the park to the ridge to the north and reached the top about the same time that Severn and the advance riders descended to the park.
The rest of Lord Kilraven’s party were just coming over the south ridge.
Lady Kilraven and Cadena waved their bounds arms and excitedly hopped up and down.
Zach galloped on. If he had calculated correctly, he would strike the trail he wanted in short order. He had allowed for how much distance those he sought had traveled since he struck their trail the first time on the way to the Wards. It was a gamble, this ploy of his, but if it worked, the Wards were free to go on living in their valley for as long as they desired.
Fortune favored him. Zach rode for ten minutes when he came on a wide swath of ground churned by scores of hooves. Reining up, he jumped down and examined the tracks. Those he sought had passed that way less than an hour before.
Zach climbed on the sorrel and followed the churned swath. Speed was called for. He had no way of knowing how long he had. The Kilravens might make camp at the park or they might turn around and head right back.
Fully aware of the peril he courted, Zach pressed on until he spotted the ones he was after. Their backs were to him. They had no idea he was there. He remedied that. Reining to a halt, he whooped and hollered and screeched. Predictably, they wheeled their mounts and gazed in bewilderment.
Zach gave them extra incentive. He whipped his rifle to his shoulder and fired over their heads. Then, laughing, he dropped the lead rope, hauled on the sorrel’s reins, and raced back the way he had come.
They raced after him.
Zach figured that by leaving the extra horses, he bought himself the minute or so it would take for those who were after him to snatch the horses. A minute might not sound like much, but it could make all the difference.
Now all he had to do was stay alive.
Lord Kilraven permitted his wife to embrace him, albeit briefly. Drawing away, he thoughtfully regarded both her and his niece. ‘You say he just rode off and left you?’
Saxona nodded. ‘His behavior is most inexplicable. But what else are we to expect from these provincials? And a savage, no less.’
‘He is half-white,’ Cadena said.
Lady Kilraven sniffed. ‘You will find, my dear, that when the lower and higher natures are mixed, the lower nature often prevails over the higher by virtue of its base tendencies.’
‘He just rode off and left you?’ Lord Kilraven said again, and turned to Severn and Bromley. ‘What do you two make of it? Deuced peculiar that he brought them all this way for no reason.’
‘Maybe he wanted to draw us away from the Wards,’ Bromley speculated.
‘I could not begin to guess, your lordship,’ Severn said. ‘Do you want me to take some of the men and go after him?’
‘No. I want a fire, and tea brewed for the ladies. After they are refreshed and rested, we will start back,’ Lord Kilraven directed. ‘We will go straightaway to the Wards’ homestead and appropriate it as our own. I am through coddling these colonials.’
‘As you wish, sir,’ Severn said, and turned to relay the orders. Movement on the ridge to the north gave him pause. ‘Bloody hell!’ he exclaimed before he could catch himself. ‘It’s him!’
They all looked. They all saw Zach King come riding down the north ridge as if the demons of hell were on his heels.
‘What in God’s name does he think he is doing?’ Bromley asked in amazement.
‘He is attacking us!’ Saxona marveled.
Severn whipped his rifle up. ‘As soon as he reaches the bottom I will drop him.’
Their wonderment grew when Zach, midway down the slope, reined to the east and shouted something. The same words, over and over.
‘What is he saying?’ Lord Kilraven asked. ‘I can’t quite make it out.’
‘He is insane,’ Saxona said. ‘There is no other explanation.’
Cadena took a few steps, her head cocked. ‘I think I can make it out.’ She listened intently, then blanched. ‘No! Surely not! We heard about them at the trading post. They are the worst of the lot.’
‘What are you on about?’ Lord Kilraven impatiently snipped.
‘Can’t you hear yet what he is shouting?’
‘Enlighten us, if you please.’
Cadena raised her voice in imitation of Zach King. ‘The Blackfeet are coming! The Blackfeet are coming!’
The next instant a swarm of riders swept over the top of the north ridge. Painted warriors astride painted war horses.
Saxona’s hand flew to her throat. ‘Merciful heaven! There must be a hundred of those devils!’
The warriors had seen them. War whoops rent the air as they hurtled toward the park.
‘Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God.’
Simon was feeding the chickens when the horseman appeared. He ran to the cabin to warn Felicity, then ran back out with his rifle. She emerged holding Peter and a pistol.
‘Can you tell who it is?’
‘Not yet.’ Shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare, Simon fought down rising apprehension. Soon he smiled and declared, ‘It’s Zach! He made it back safely!’
‘I’ll fix coffee.’
Simon stayed outside. He noticed that Zach was slumped in the saddle. Fatigue, Simon thought, and then Zach reined to a halt and glanced up. ‘My word!’ Simon took a step back. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I am in one piece,’ Zach answered, drawing rein. His features were haggard, suggesting he had not slept in days.
‘Where is Lord Kilraven? Should we get ready to leave for Bent’s Fort?’
‘No.’
Felicity came back out. She was smiling but her smile died when she saw Zach. She hurried to her husband’s side. ‘What have I missed? What has he told you?’
‘Nothing,’ Simon said.
Zach gazed at their cabin, at the stable, at the chicken coop. ‘You have a nice place here.’
Simon and Felicity looked at one another.
‘This is your home,’ Zach had gone on. ‘No one has the right to take another man’s home. I hope when your son grows up that he appreciates the price you had to pay.’
Felicity walked over and put her hand on his leg. ‘Zach? Where is Lord Kilraven?’
‘Gone.’
‘Gone as in he gave up and left? Or gone as in dead?’
Zach did not respond.
‘What about Lady Kilraven?’ Felicity asked. ‘And Cadena and all the rest? Where are they?’
‘Gone.’
‘Please, Zach,’ Felicity said. ‘We need to know more. I want to hear all of it.’
‘All of it?’ Zach said. ‘Imagine—,’ he paused, and glanced at her, and swallowed. ‘No. Don’t imagine it. There is gone, and there is gone!’
‘Are you saying they are dead?’ Simon asked. ‘By whose hand? Surely you did not slay all of them yourself?’
‘They met up with a war party,’ Zach explained, and let it go at that.
‘Which tribe?’ Simon pressed him.
‘I’d rather not say.’
Felicity was thinking of Saxona and Cadena and the maids. ‘Are the women dead, too?’
‘They were spared, except for Lady Kilraven. None of the warriors wanted her.’
‘Come inside,’ Felicity urged. ‘You need to get some food into you.’
‘I need to forget, is what I need.’ Zach raised the sorrel’s reins. ‘I’ll be on my way. I have perfume to buy.’
‘We can’t thank you enough for helping us,’ Simon said sincerely. ‘I mean that from the bottom of my heart.’
Zach King managed a smile. ‘What are friends for?’
WILDERNESS 54: PURE OF HEART
Dedicated to Judy, Shane, Josh and Kyndra. And for Ben...you rock!
Prologue
Out of the east, and the dawn, came four riders.
For as far as the eye could see stretched pristine prairie. Shimmering in the bright sunlight, the grass was stirred now and again by a warm breeze. Stirred, too, were the leaves of cottonwood trees that fringed a meandering stream the four riders had been following for the better part of a month.
The riders did not know the name of the stream. They did not even know if it had one. To them, it represented the safest means of reaching the mountains. They need not want for water. Nor for food, since all kinds of animals came to the stream to slake their thirst and fell to the rifles of the four.
The waving grass and stately trees and ribbon of blue were Nature at her finest. The prairie possessed a rich beauty all its own. Here and there wildflowers added splashes of color to its luster.
But the four men did not appreciate such things. When they gazed out over the shimmering grass, they saw only grass. When they glanced at the cottonwoods, they saw only firewood. When they stared at the gurgling ribbon of blue, they saw only water. Nature’s beauty was lost on the four. For them the natural world held no wonder, no allure. It simply was. That a wildflower might entrance them was as remote a possibility as the sun and the moon swapping orbits.
The four rode warily. They bristled with weapons: rifles, flintlock pistols, knives. Every so often the last in line would shift in his saddle and scan their back trail with an intensity that spoke of purpose.
All four had slick, greasy hair. All four were unshaven. Their bodies were strangers to soap and water. So, too, were their clothes. None of them gave any thought to the stink or the dirt. To them it was normal, part and parcel of their existence.
In size they varied. The lead rider was short and wiry and had features much like a rat’s. The second man was broad of face and body, with muscles on top of muscles. His low forehead and a vacant aspect to his deep-set eyes suggested he was quicker on his feet than between his ears. The third rider was a mulatto. The fourth, the one who kept shifting in the saddle, had unkempt straw-colored hair that poked from under his cap.
They rode in silence. Only the clomp of hooves and creak of leather marked their passage.
The morning came and went. The sun was directly overhead when the leader motioned at the stream and reined his mount in among the trees. Undergrowth was sparse. He came to a halt at the water’s edge and announced, ‘We will stop for a while.’
No one objected. The second man dismounted and stretched, iron muscles bulging under his shirt. ‘I am plumb sick of all this grass,’ he declared.
The mulatto slid down with agile grace. ‘A cow would call this heaven, my friend.’
‘I ain’t no dumb cow,’ the big man responded.
‘No, you’re just dumb,’ said the last rider, he of the straw-hued thatch. ‘All the brains you ever had have leaked out your ears, Graf.’
The broad man scowled. His vacant eyes acquired a flinty cast as he said, ‘I won’t warn you again about poking fun at me, Teak. Keep it up and I’ll wring your scrawny neck.’
‘Go ahead and try,’ Teak taunted with a sinister smirk, his hand dropping to a flintlock.
The mulatto looked from one to the other. Of the four, he was the only one who might be deemed almost handsome. ‘Again? Can’t you ever get along?’
‘Who asked you, Mandingo?’ Teak snapped. ‘I’ll do as I damn well please, and no half and half is going to tell me different.’
The first rider, the leader, was still in the saddle. His rat-like face twisting in anger, he snapped, ‘How about me, Teak? Can I tell you different?’
The effect was remarkable. Teak blanched and swallowed and held his hands palms-out, saying, ‘Whatever you want is fine with me, Bodin. Just say it and I’ll do it.’
‘Shut up, then,’ Bodin said, and the other man promptly did. Shaking his head in disgust, Bodin swung down. ‘Mandingo has a point. You prod Graf too much. Graf is sick of it and Mandingo is sick of it and now I am sick of it. You know what that means, don’t you?’
Beads of sweat dotted Teak’s brow. He nodded, and the sweat trickled lower.
‘Good. We have us a long ways to go, and I’ll be damned if I’ll abide more squabbling.’ Bodin squatted and dipped a hand in the stream. He sipped noisily, smacked his thin lips, and straightened. His thin nose twitched as he sniffed the air. ‘Do any of you smell that?’
Graf turned into the breeze. ‘I smell nothing.’
‘Me either,’ Teak said.
Mandingo was sniffing now, too. After a bit he said, ‘It smells like burning wood to me.’
‘It is burning wood,’ Bodin said. ‘Smoke from a campfire, unless I miss my guess.’
‘Out here?’ Teak marveled.
They had crossed the Mississippi River weeks ago. Where most stuck to established trails, they had struck off on their own, deliberately forsaking the relative safety of the known routes for the very r
eal dangers of the unknown. Some would call them mad, but there was a method to it, and that method was called self-preservation.
‘It can’t be whites,’ Mandingo said.
‘Then it must be Injuns,’ Graf guessed, and at the mention, all four felt for their weapons and cast nervous looks about the vegetation.
‘Whoever they are, they’re west of us,’ Bodin said, since that was the direction the wind was blowing from. ‘Mandingo and me will go have a look-see. You two stay with the horses.’
‘You sure that’s wise?’ Teak asked. ‘Maybe we should swing to the south and sneak on by them. I’m not hankering to have my hair lifted.’
‘And you think I am?’
‘Then why run the risk of them spotting you?’ Teak argued.
Bodin pointed at the ground. ‘If they come this way they’ll see our tracks and might take it into their heads to come after us. I’d rather that we jump them than they jump us.’ Hefting his rifle, he jogged off, Mandingo falling into step beside him. When they were out of earshot, Bodin said out of the corner of his mouth, ‘That damn Teak is more bother than he’s worth. He keeps it up, he won’t live to set eyes on the Rockies.’
‘I am not fond of him, either,’ the mulatto said, ‘but he’s a good shot, and if those who are after us catch up to us, we will have need of his rifle.’
‘I bet they turned back long ago,’ Bodin said. ‘They wouldn’t chase us this far.’
‘Can we take that chance?’
‘I reckon not.’ Bodin glanced at him. ‘You always give good advice. Those other two are next to worthless.’
‘I’ve been on the run a lot longer than you,’ Mandingo said.
A sound silenced them, the dull ring of metal on metal. Both stopped, puzzlement writ in their expressions. Bodin crooked a finger, crouched, and cautiously advanced until a thicket barred their way. Flattening, he snaked forward.
Soon a campfire appeared off amid the trees. Seated around it were two men. Young, dressed in homespun, clean-shaven and bright-eyed, they watched the third member of their party, a pretty young woman with copper hair who was bent over a pot. She stirred the contents with a large spoon. It was the sound of the spoon bumping the sides of the pot that Bodin and Mandingo had heard. Parked nearby was a canvas-topped wagon. A team of mules and a horse had been picketed where they could graze on the sweet grass.
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