Wilderness Double Edition 27

by David Robbins

  ‘Ah.’ Evelyn wrapped her forearms around her legs and shammed an interest in the stars. She wanted to ask him whether her heart was like the lake or the Mississippi, but she was afraid of his answer.

  Shortly after, they turned in. Evelyn curled on her side with a blanket up to her chin and her saddle for a pillow. Her eyes not quite shut, she watched him make himself comfortable on his back and fold his hands on his chest. He did not use a blanket.

  Evelyn was tired from the long hours on horseback and figured she would go right to sleep. But her mind was racing like a Chinook. She could not stop thinking about the things they had talked about. She tossed. She turned. She tried counting sheep, as her father advised her to do when she was little. Dega appeared to be slumbering peacefully. She envied him. If she did not get some rest, she would pay for it the next day. Upset with herself, she turned her back to the fire and tried to empty her head of all thoughts.

  Dega heard her turn over and glanced in her direction. From where he lay, she seemed to be sleeping. He wished he could. He kept reliving the day in his mind. Or, rather, reliving all that she had said and done. Every gesture she made, every comment. He relived everything they did from the moment he arrived at the King cabin until they turned in. It was a day he would treasure, for no matter what happened in the future, they had had this one day to themselves. He thanked That Which Is In All Things for being able to share it with her.

  Evelyn finally started to drift off. She was on the cusp of dreamland when the screech of an owl snapped her awake. Clamping her jaw in frustration, she mentally cursed owls in general and that one in particular.

  Sleep came at long last. Evelyn had the impression she barely drifted off when a jay squawked and the sky was brightening. She slowly sat up, her blood sluggish in her veins, and yawned. Another night like this and she would be a wreck. To her surprise, Dega was already up.

  Dega had not slept at all. He had tried and tried and given it up as hopeless. In the quiet, still time before dawn, he lay listening to Evelyn breathe and imagined how it would be to do that the rest of his life.

  They were underway before the sun was half an hour high. Evelyn rode up out of the bowl to the top of the ridge. At the far end of the valley smoke curled above the treetops. Whoever it was, they were having their breakfast.

  ‘We will go easy until we find out if they are friend or foe,’ Evelyn said.

  Sticking to cover, stopping often to listen and look, Evelyn crossed the heavily forested valley floor. As they neared the smoke she expected to hear voices, but the woods were silent and still. When the smell of the smoke was so strong she was sure they were close, she drew rein. Dega slid down and then she dismounted and wrapped the reins around a sapling. Her rifle at the ready, she cautiously advanced to the edge of a clearing.

  The fire was almost out, its makers gone. Hoof-prints and footprints indicated seven riders with three pack animals had camped overnight. The fletching and marks on a broken arrow they had left told Evelyn it had been a Nez Perce hunting party. They had gone off toward their own country.

  ‘We find tracks of dun now?’ Dega asked.

  It took some doing. Evelyn thought the horse would make for the Nez Perce camp, but it had given them a wide berth. By roving in a circle, she found its trail leading toward the far end the valley. It was still heading lower, toward the foothills and eventually Bent’s Fort.

  Evelyn rode hard, but Buttercup was bearing double and she had to stop often to let the buttermilk rest. They did not catch up that day. They did not catch up the next. She knew her parents would be worried, but she refused to give up. She had come this far; she would keep going all the way to the trading post if she had to. That it was Dega’s horse was added incentive.

  Dega did not care how long it took. He relished being in Evelyn’s company. During the day they traveled through spectacular terrain, with towering peaks on all sides. At night they sat around their campfire and talked until they could not keep their eyes open.

  A third day waxed and waned. Once again they camped. As Evelyn was stripping Buttercup, she spotted a campfire in the distance.

  ‘Nez Perce, you think?’

  ‘No,’ Evelyn answered. ‘They were heading northwest. That fire is to the southeast. And it is a lot bigger than the fire the Nez Perce made. My guess would be white men. We’ll go have a look in the morning.’

  ‘You think they have dun?’ Dega’s grasp of the white tongue was improving. He had reached the point where he sometimes thought in it.

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not. It won’t hurt to see.’

  That night they talked of all the things they had in common. They both grew up in loving families. They both had devoted, caring parents. Much of their lives had been spent outdoors. They liked the beauty of nature. Neither cared for violence.

  Dega asked her if she believed in Manitoa, as did he and all his family, and Evelyn explained about God and the Bible. Dega was greatly interested in the story of the man who died on the cross. He did not understand much of it, but he gathered that the man had a deep, abiding love for others, and he wondered if the God of the whites and the Manitoa of his people might be one and the same.

  ‘That I can’t say,’ Evelyn replied. ‘I never gave religion a lot of thought. You might ask my pa. He reads the Bible all the time, and he likes to mull over questions like that.’ She poked the fire with a stick. ‘Me, I used to think that God watches over us and keeps us from harm. That was before I was kidnapped and some terrible things happened to those I care for most. Now I don’t know.’

  ‘We not blame That Which Is In All Things for all that bad,’ Dega remarked.

  ‘Why not? If God made this world, then He is responsible for everyone and everything in it—the good as well as the bad.’ At least, that was how Evelyn saw it. ‘But what do I know? I gave up looking for answers a long time ago.’

  ‘Never give up,’ Dega said.

  ‘Some things just don’t make any sense no matter how hard I think about them.’

  Dega was struck by how much older she was inside than outside. The hardships she had suffered had matured her beyond her years.

  ‘Enough about the meaning of life.’ Evelyn grinned. ‘It’s getting late. We should turn in so we’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when we go see who’s camped yonder in the morning.’

  Dega was not looking forward to that. He liked having her to himself. But he did not say anything, and soon she was breathing deeply and regularly in peaceful sleep. He drifted off himself soon after.

  The day broke cloudy and dreary. Evelyn sniffed the air and announced what Dega had already deduced. ‘We will have rain today.’

  Evelyn was in no hurry. She dallied over strips of rabbit meat left over from the night before. She took her sweet time saddling Buttercup. She rode at a leisurely walk through the gray and gloomy woods. The dun’s tracks pointed straight toward the other camp. ‘It could be you will get your horse back soon,’ she commented.

  ‘That be good,’ Dega fibbed. He was not delighted at the prospect of heading back to their own valley and their families. He should have been, but he was not.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Evelyn said, sounding as excited about it as he did.

  ‘I thank you for coming all this way for my horse,’ Dega said, delighted at how well he spoke.

  ‘We don’t have him yet,’ Evelyn noted.

  The trees thinned. Ahead, in a clearing, men were moving about, evidently preparing to get underway.

  ‘I count four,’ Dega said.

  So did Evelyn. She studied them. As she had suspected, they were white. Or three of them were. One was sandy-haired, another was short and constantly scowled, a third bulged with muscle, while the fourth was a mix of white and black—a mulatto, she believed they were called.

  Evelyn rode to the edge of the clearing and drew rein. Raising an arm, she called out, ‘Hallo, the camp!’

  Instantly, the four men whirled and brandished weapons. On seeing her, the short o
ne smiled and declared, ‘As I live and breathe, boys! Look at what we have here.’

  ‘Do you mind if we have words with you?’ Evelyn asked.

  ‘Not at all, girl,’ the short one responded, and lowered his rifle. ‘Come on in. I am Rafer Bodin and these are my pards, Graf, Mandingo and Teak. We’ll be right pleased to make your acquaintance.’

  Twelve

  Evelyn kneed Buttercup closer but stopped after only going a few yards. She did not like how the four men were looking at her. They were all smiling as if they were as friendly as could be, but something about their smiles rang false. Her intuition blared. That, and her father and mother warning her time and time again never to trust strangers until the strangers proved trustworthy. ‘We’re looking for a horse that ran away,’ she informed them. ‘A zebra dun. Have you seen it by any chance?’

  Bodin placed the stock of his rifle on the ground and leaned on it. He didn’t want to do anything that would scare the girl and the Indian boy off. He was pleased to see the others had caught on and were acting as peaceable as parsons. ‘Can’t say as we have, girl. But why don’t you light and rest a spell? We have coffee on.’

  Degamawaku did not trust the four whites. Their faces reminded him of the faces of the whites from New Albion who destroyed his village and his people. Leaning forward, he whispered to Evelyn, ‘These not good men.’

  Bodin saw him whisper. ‘What was that, Injun? I didn’t quite catch what you said.’

  ‘It is his horse that ran away,’ Evelyn said. ‘He is anxious to find it.’ She noticed a pair of pack animals laden with furs. ‘I see you are trappers.’

  ‘Eh?’ Bodin said, and followed her gaze. ‘That we are. On our way to Bent’s Fort to trade our hides. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.’

  ‘We must find the dun.’

  Bodin rose onto the tips of his toes and stared past them. ‘Is there just the two of you, girl? Where are your folks?’

  ‘Close by,’ Evelyn lied. ‘They are searching for the horse.’

  ‘Is that a fact?’ Bodin almost laughed. ‘You’re a terrible liar. Or do you expect me to believe they don’t mind you riding around alone with that buck?’

  ‘He is my friend,’ Evelyn said, angered by the insult. ‘And I will thank you not to talk like that.’

  ‘No offense meant, pretty thing,’ Bodin said. He flicked his eyes meaningfully at the others. Mandingo immediately started to move to the right and Graf to the left, but slowly, so as not to be obvious about it.

  Evelyn raised her rifle. ‘Hold it right there. I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’ll shoot if you make me.’

  ‘Have a care, girl,’ Bodin said good-naturedly. ‘What is this talk of shooting? What have we done other than offer you some coffee and the comfort of our fire?’

  Evelyn centered the barrel on his chest and thumbed back the hammer. ‘I mean it. Tell your friends to stand still, or you won’t like the consequences.’

  Bodin gestured, stopping Mandingo and Graf. ‘Now see here,’ he declared, ‘I can’t say much for your manners.’

  ‘You strike me as unsavory,’ Evelyn bluntly informed him. ‘If I am wrong, I apologize. But my friend and I will be on our way, and no one had better try to stop us.’

  ‘We wouldn’t think of it, young lady,’ Bodin assured her. ‘Go in peace.’

  Evelyn gigged Buttercup in a loop that brought her around to the other side of the clearing. The whole time she pointed her rifle at Bodin. Neither he nor the others tried to stop them. About to rein into the pines, she remarked, ‘As you said to me, no offense meant. We bid you good day, gentlemen.’ A jab of her heels brought Buttercup to a trot.

  Teak was nearly beside himself. ‘Why in hell did you let them get away?’ he demanded. ‘We should have jumped them while we had the chance.’

  ‘And take lead in the bargain? You saw that girl. She was no bluff. She’s worth her weight in gold, that one.’

  ‘I saw her, all right,’ Mandingo said, and licked his lips. ‘I cannot wait to have her.’

  ‘I want to choke that Injun she is with,’ Graf said. ‘If there’s anything I hate worse than Injuns, I have yet to find it.’

  ‘We are going after them, aren’t we?’ Teak asked. ‘We can’t let a saucy vixen like her slip through our fingers.’

  ‘And we won’t,’ Bodin said. ‘But we will go slow and do this right so she is not harmed when we jump them.’ He rubbed his palms together in glee. ‘Mandingo and Graf, mount up. We have us some rabbits to snare.’

  ‘What about me?’ Teak asked.

  ‘You stay here and watch the pack animals,’ Bodin instructed. ‘We should be back by nightfall.’

  ‘How come I have to stay?’ Teak objected. ‘Why not Mandingo?’

  ‘He can track and you can’t.’

  ‘Graf, then.’

  ‘You’re not half as strong as he is, and there’s liable to be a scrape when we jump them.’

  ‘You make me sound next to worthless,’ Teak groused.

  ‘You are.’

  A hundred yards into the forest, Evelyn had slowed her horse to a walk. Twisting, she scanned their back trail. ‘I don’t see them,’ she said. ‘Maybe I was mistaken and they were harmless.’

  ‘You did right thing,’ Dega said. ‘Nansusequa have saying.’ He translated it in his head. ‘A wolf cannot bite you if you are not near it.’

  ‘Whites have a saying, too,’ Evelyn said. ‘Better safe than sorry.’ She glanced back from time to time, but no one was after them. Overhead, the clouds darkened. The wind picked up, bringing with it the scent of the rain she had predicted.

  ‘Storm come soon,’ Dega said.

  ‘It will erase the dun’s sign,’ Evelyn mentioned. ‘We’ll have to go all the way to Bent’s Fort and hope it’s there.’

  ‘I not mind.’ Dega looked forward to spending more time in her company. The dun had done him a favor.

  ‘Me either,’ Evelyn said.

  ‘Hold on a moment,’ Evelyn said, drawing rein. She had glanced back again and this time she saw something. ‘Open that parfleche and hand me the spyglass.’

  Dega complied, extending it as he gave it to her. Shifting, he asked, ‘What back there?’

  ‘Don’t move,’ Evelyn said. She rested the end of the telescope on his shoulder to steady it and looked through the eyepiece. ‘I was right. It’s the one who called himself Bodin. He is smack on our trail.’

  ‘The others?’

  Evelyn swung the spyglass from side to side. Her insides churned as she spotted the mulatto to the south and the mass of muscle to the north. ‘Two of them are coming up on either side. They must reckon to flank us, then close in.’ She snapped the spyglass shut. ‘I was right about them. They’re up to no good.’

  ‘You think they want our guns and Buttercup?

  ‘It could be they want me.’ Evelyn lashed her reins. ‘Hang on.’ At a gallop they raced through the woods, while around them the trees bent to the force of the rising wind and dark clouds scuttled like so many giant crabs. The scent of moisture was stronger than ever.

  Dega clung on, his worry for Evelyn eclipsing all else. It never would have occurred to him that the men were after her. Violating a woman was so despicable, so vile, it went against everything the Nansusequa believed.

  The forest had gone quiet save for the drum of Buttercup’s hooves. No birds sang; no squirrels chattered. The wild things had sensed the impending storm and sought their dens and burrows and nests.

  Evelyn was surprised at how calm she felt. She told herself that she had no reason to be overly worried. She had her weapons, and Dega had his lance. Between them they could give a good accounting of themselves.

  Buttercup was layered with sweat when Evelyn finally drew rein. By then the sky was so dark, it almost seemed to be night. She used the spyglass, sweeping the timber behind them. ‘I don’t see them. I think we got away.’

  ‘I hope you be right,’ Dega said.

  A few c
old drops spattered Evelyn’s face. ‘We must find shelter from the rain.’ Quickly, she closed the telescope and handed it to Dega. ‘Put that in the parfleche.’

  A sudden howl of wind whipped the trees. Evelyn took the reins and used her heels. Ahead rose the slopes of yet another mountain.

  Dega did not share her urgency. Rain was rain. He had been caught in storms many times. The worst that could happen was they would be soaked to the skin.

  A distant flash of light was followed by a rumbling boom.

  ‘Lightning. Just what we need,’ Evelyn said, her tone full of sarcasm. Storms in the mountains could be incredibly fierce.

  Dega wondered if the men who were chasing them were as concerned about the storm as she was. If so, they might give up and find a spot to wait it out.

  The buttermilk headed up an incline.

  Evelyn bent and spoke softly. ‘That’s it, girl. Just a little farther. I am sorry for pushing you like this, but it can’t be helped.’ She patted Buttercup’s neck.

  Another flash, brighter than the last, was attended by a louder rumble. Some of the thinner pines were practically bent double.

  Dega twisted to look behind them. The shadows themselves seemed to dance and writhe. He did not see their three pursuers anywhere. He smiled. Then the lightning blazed again and he thought he saw—something—at the limit of his vision. It was there, and it was gone. It might have been an animal. But he was filled with unease.

  Evelyn spied a break in the terrain to their left and angled toward it. Out of the murk a gully appeared. The sides were not steep and the bottom was littered with gravel. It was not much, but it would have to do. She reined down into it. ‘We will wait out the storm here.’

  ‘Whatever you want,’ Dega said. It was a good place to hide. But he did not like that they could not see over the top.

  Dismounting, Evelyn held firmly to the reins. She was not going to be stranded afoot a second time.

  The scattered drops became a drizzle. Here in the gully the wind seemed louder. It keened and shrieked and buffeted them nonstop.