Taking a deep breath, Evelyn let it out slowly. It seemed to help.
‘Here is a track!’ Mandingo hollered. ‘We’re getting close.’
‘Whoever sees the boy first, kill him,’ Bodin said. ‘Then we will treat ourselves to the girl.’
‘She has given us more trouble than anyone, ever,’ Graf commented.
‘All the more reason we can’t let her get away,’ Bodin said. ‘No snip of a female gets the better of us.’
Evelyn wedged the rifle to her shoulder and aligned the rear sight with the front sight and centered the bead on Bodin’s chest.
‘God help me,’ she said.
Seventeen
Evelyn King was set to squeeze the trigger when the three killers unexpectedly stopped. Mandingo had said something to Bodin, something she did not quite catch. Then, to her considerable surprise, the mulatto reined to the east and trotted off. Bodin and Graf stayed where they were.
Evelyn did not know what to make of it. She lowered the rifle and waited. She did not want to shoot anyone if she could help it. She hoped, she prayed, that they would simply go away.
The minutes dragged. The shadows lengthened. The sun, perched on the western horizon, would soon relinquish its reign.
The two men sat on their horses and did nothing. They did not even talk.
Evelyn kept looking for Mandingo to return, but there was no sign of him. It could be a blessing in disguise, she mused. If he did not get back before dark, they would have to wait until morning to resume the hunt. That would give her time to spirit Dega away.
Bodin chose that moment to rein his mount over to Graf.
Evelyn leaned out as far as she dared, but she could not hear what they were saying. She shifted to relieve a cramp in her leg, but it would not go away. She glanced at the sun, now half gone. In a little while she could climb down.
The wind picked up. The tree gave a slight shake and she instinctively clutched a limb above her.
Not once had Bodin or Graf glanced in her direction. They were both grinning.
Evelyn wondered what they were so happy about. Teak was dead, Graf was wounded, and she and Dega had escaped. By rights they should be as mad as could be. She looked to the east and saw only trees.
Suddenly Bodin drew a pistol. Evelyn tensed, but he did not point it at her. He aimed it to the north, and fired. For the life of her, she could not figure out what he shot at. It appeared to be a tree. But why in heaven’s name would he indulge in target practice? she wondered.
Then, compounding her puzzlement, Graf did the exact same thing.
Bewildered, Evelyn tilted her head to try and hear snatches of their conversation. In doing so, she glanced down—straight into the savagely gleeful face of Mandingo a few feet below her.
For all of five seconds, Evelyn was frozen in shock. A hand on her ankle galvanized her to life. She tried to bring the rifle to bear but she was too slow. Mandingo twisted her leg and pulled, and before Evelyn could stop herself, she was plummeting to earth. She crashed onto a branch, grabbed at another but missed, and struck a third. The rifle went flying.
The ground rushed up to meet her. Pain spiked her shoulder, and she came close to passing out. Dimly, she heard the rapid drum of hooves. Shapes loomed over her, and someone relieved her of the pistols and the knife.
Gradually, things acquired form and substance. Evelyn blinked up into the cruel countenances of the three killers. They ringed her, making flight impossible.
‘Can you hear me, girl?’ Bodin asked.
Evelyn swallowed her fear. ‘Yes.’
‘Can you move or did the fall break something?’
Propping herself on an elbow, Evelyn took stock. She moved both arm and both legs and turned her head from side to side. ‘I appear to be in one piece.’
‘Good,’ Bodin said. ‘You wouldn’t be much fun if you weren’t.’ He turned and clapped Mandingo on the shoulder. ‘That was damn clever. She never suspected.’
‘How did you know I was up there?’ Evelyn wanted to know.
‘I saw the sunlight gleam off your rifle barrel,’ Mandingo explained. ‘I told the others to wait while I circled around, and to make noise when they saw me climb the tree.’
Evelyn had never felt so stupid as she did at that moment. ‘I should have shot at you when I had the chance.’
‘Where is your Injun friend?’ Bodin asked.
‘I don’t know. We became separated. He must be miles away by now.’
‘What about the two horses? Did he take them and leave you here by your lonesome?’
‘I made him go. He was hurt,’ Evelyn said. ‘I stayed behind to buy him time to get away.’
‘I’m not that gullible,’ Bodin said. ‘I told you before and I will tell you again. You are a terrible liar.’ Lunging, he gripped the front of her dress and yanked, forcing her to sit up. ‘Now what say we stop playing games? Answer honest or you will suffer. Where’s the Injun?’
‘I told you, I don’t know.’
‘Suit yourself,’ Bodin said. Hauling her to her feet, he shoved her against Graf, who in turn shoved her against Mandingo. She tried to leap clear, but Mandingo held on to her arms.
‘This is going to hurt you a lot more than it will hurt us,’ Bodin remarked.
Evelyn never saw the punch. She felt it, though, felt the torment in her stomach, and bitter bile rise in her gorge. Doubling over, she tottered.
‘There’s more where that came from,’ Bodin warned. ‘Unless you’re fond of pain, you better start cooperating.’
Graf seized her wrist. ‘Let me have her for half an hour. I’ll make her talk.’
Mandingo grabbed her other wrist. ‘No. Bodin promised her to me if I caught her. I’ll make her tell us what we want to know.’
‘Quit your damned squabbling,’ Bodin snapped. ‘I swear, sometimes you two are worse than women.’
The next moment the brush parted and out shambled an apparition in green buckskins caked with mud and covered with pine needles. In Dega’s right hand was a two-foot length of broken tree limb. ‘Let go of her!’
‘Shoot him,’ Bodin said to Graf.
‘No!’ Evelyn cried. She went to move between them, but Mandingo held her fast.
Graf drew his other pistol. ‘Killing Injuns is always a pleasure.’ He took deliberate aim.
Evelyn could not stand there and do nothing. She fought to break free, but Mandingo was too strong. She braced for the crack of Graf’s flintlock, but he did not shoot. There was no need.
Dega had collapsed in an unconscious heap.
‘Will you look at that?’ Bodin said. ‘He’s about done in.’
‘I knew I hit him earlier,’ Graf declared. ‘A little lower, and he would’ve bled to death.’
‘Let me go to him,’ Evelyn pleaded.
‘Sorry, girl,’ Bodin replied. ‘You’re ours now. But if it will make you feel better, we’ll drag him back to camp and carve on him while you watch. How would that be?’
‘To call you a beast would insult the beasts,’ Evelyn said bitterly.
Bodin laughed. ‘That spunk of yours has served you well. For what it’s worth, you have earned my respect.’
‘Respect from scum is no respect at all.’
Mandingo let go of her and stepped back. ‘You will ride with me. Behave or the boy dies that much sooner.’
Evelyn did not hesitate. She was not going to let them do what they intended. A fate worse than death, as it was called, was truly a fate worse than death, in her estimation.
She sprang at Bodin, raking his face with her fingernails while simultaneously grabbing at his knife with her other hand. He howled in rage as her nails dug deep. The hilt of the knife molded to her palm and she swept it out. The tip was a whisker from slicing into his belly when her arm was seized by Mandingo and nearly torn from its socket. She clawed at his face, but Graf clamped his hand on her other wrist. Desperate to break free, she kicked at their knees.
Bodin punched her. He gave no warning. He
sank his fist into her gut and drew his fist back to do it again.
The pain doubled Evelyn over. Wheezing and gagging, she sagged and would have fallen if the other two had not been holding her.
‘Damn you,’ Bodin snarled. ‘You nearly took my eye out.’ He touched a finger to the scratch marks and stared at the drops of blood. ‘For this you will take a long time dying.’
Evelyn felt Mandingo’s grip on her arm tighten. She glanced up, thinking Bodin was about to do something, but he was not even looking at her; he was staring past her, his rat face mirroring surprise. Mandingo and Graf had shifted and were also staring at something behind her. Still unable to straighten, she glanced over her shoulder—and came close to bursting into tears.
Two newcomers had materialized as if out of the thin mountain air. One was a giant in buckskins, with raven hair and a black beard. His green eyes seemed to blaze with inner fire and his features were set in grim lines. He held a Hawken rifle at his side.
The second man was smaller. He was a mix of white and red, his face similar enough to that of the giant to show they were blood kin. He was clean-shaven. His dark eyes did not blaze like those of his father, but there was an aura of menace about him, an air of raw savagery about to be unleashed.
‘Who the hell are you two?’ Bodin demanded. ‘This is a private matter. You will fan the breeze if you know what is good for you.’
Evelyn found her voice. ‘Good to see you again, Pa.’
‘We came as quick as we could,’ Nate King said.
Bodin took a step back. ‘Oh hell.’
‘The other one is my brother, Zach,’ Evelyn told him. ‘Even though you have treated my friend and me badly, I am sorry for what is about to happen to you.’
Mandingo and Graf released her and moved to either side.
‘Evelyn,’ Nate said. ‘Go over by Dega.’
No one tried to stop her. Evelyn knelt and cradled Dega’s head on her knees. ‘Whenever you’re ready, Pa.’
Graf gave a nervous cough. ‘There are three of us and only two of them.’
Zach King had his rifle in one hand. With the other he slowly slid a tomahawk from under his brown leather belt. ‘Three or ten, it would not make a difference.’
‘Is that so, boy?’ Bodin sneered. ‘We are not sheep. You’ll not find us easy.’
Zach was staring at Mandingo. ‘I am Stalking Coyote of the Shoshone. I have counted coup on Sioux. I have counted coup on Blackfeet and Bloods. I have counted coup on Piegans. I have killed whites, and breeds, and every animal that lives in these mountains. And now, for what you have done to my sister, I am going to kill you.’
And just like that, he leaped at Mandingo. The mulatto tried to skip out of reach while bringing his rifle up, but the tomahawk opened his shoulder.
Graf tried to draw his pistol. He did not quite have it clear when Nate King’s Hawken boomed. The heavy-caliber slug smashed Graf back onto his heels. He swayed and bleated, ‘This can’t be!’ Then he pitched forward, dead.
Bodin turned and ran.
Evelyn flung out her arm, tripping him. Before he could scramble to his feet, her father was on him, lifting him as if he were a sack of flour and landing a blow that she would have sworn nearly caved in Bodin’s skull. Her father stripped Bodin of his pistols, then gave him a push. Bodin staggered back, clawing at his knife. Her father drew his bowie.
A flurry of movement diverted Evelyn’s attention to Zach and Mandingo. The mulatto had dropped his rifle and resorted to his long knife. He was grinning, maybe because he was good with a blade and confident of his ability. But his grin soon died. For although he cut and thrust and stabbed with lighting speed, every move was countered or evaded or blocked. She could see the truth begin to dawn on him, and the first inkling of fear.
Evelyn could have told him. No one knew her brother better than she did. No one could appreciate what her brother was capable of. Among the Shoshones, only Touch the Clouds had counted more coup. Mandingo was a killer, but he was not half the killer her brother was.
As if to bear her out, Zach took a step back. ‘I am done toying with you,’ he said. ‘Sis, you might not want to look.’
Mandingo crouched and moved his knife in a circle. ‘When I am done with you I will have my way with her.’
Zach became a blur.
Evelyn could not quite follow it all. Mandingo lanced his knife at her brother’s chest, but Zach sidestepped and slashed his tomahawk across the mulatto’s thigh. Blood spurted, and Mandingo nearly fell. He stabbed high, but Zach wasn’t there. The tomahawk streaked once, twice, three times, and Mandingo looked down at the stump where his hand and the knife had been.
‘No!’
‘Yes,’ Zach said, and sheared the tomahawk into Mandingo’s crotch. Mandingo threw back his head and screamed. He probably never saw the tomahawk arc up and across. It severed most of his neck from his body.
Zach stared at the twitching ruin and said, ‘That was for my sister.’
Evelyn had almost forgotten about her father. She turned, and gasped. He was standing over Bodin, who was sprawled on his back. The bowie had opened Bodin from his waist to his sternum, and his organs were oozing out.
Her eyes welling up with tears, Evelyn bowed her head and gave thanks. Then her father and brother were by her side, her father holding her and comforting her. She looked at her brother and was amazed to see tears in his eyes, too. ‘Thank you,’ she said softly.
Zach coughed, and smiled. ‘We can’t leave you alone for two minutes, can we, without you getting into trouble?’
‘Dega,’ Evelyn said to her father. ‘He was shot. He has a fever.’
Nate examined him. He undid the bandage and studied the flesh around the wound, even going so far as to sniff it. ‘He will live, daughter.’
‘You’re sure, Pa?’
‘There is no sign of infection. I have some of your mother’s herbs in my parfleche. We will rest a day or two and I will treat him, then we will rig a travois for him to lie on and head home.’
‘Home,’ Evelyn said. The word never sounded so good.
About the Author
David L. Robbins was born on Independence Day 1950. He has written more than three hundred books under his own name and many pen names, among them: David Thompson, Jake McMasters, Jon Sharpe, Don Pendleton, Franklin W. Dixon, Ralph Compton, Dean L. McElwain, J.D. Cameron and John Killdeer.
Robbins was raised in Pennsylvania. When he was seventeen he enlisted in the United States Air Force and eventually rose to the rank of sergeant. After his honorable discharge he attended college and went into broadcasting, working as an announcer and engineer (and later as a program director) at various radio stations. Later still he entered law enforcement and then took to writing full-time.
At one time or another Robbins has lived in Pennsylvania, Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Montana, Colorado and the Pacific Northwest. He spent a year and a half in Europe, traveling through France, Italy, Greece and Germany. He lived for more than a year in Turkey.
Today he is best known for two current long-running series - Wilderness, the generational saga of a Mountain Man and his Shoshone wife - and Endworld is a science fiction series under his own name started in 1986. Among his many other books, Piccadilly Publishing is pleased to be reissuing ebook editions of Wilderness, Davy Crockett and, of course, White Apache.
Books by David Robbins From Piccadilly Publishing
#1: KING OF THE MOUNTAIN / LURE OF THE WILD
#2: SAVAGE RENDEZVOUS / BLOOD FURY
#3: TOMAHAWK REVENGE / BLACK POWDER JUSTICE
#4: VENGEANCE TRAIL / DEATH HUNT
#5: MOUNTAIN DEVIL / BLACKFOOT MASSACRE
#6: NORTHWEST PASSAGE / APACHE BLOOD
#7: MOUNTAIN MANHUNT / TENDERFOOT
#8: WINTERKILL / BLOOD TRUCE
#9: TRAPPER’S BLOOD / MOUNTAIN CAT
#10: IRON WARRIOR / WOLF PACK
#11: BLACK POWDER / TRAIL’S END
#12: THE LOST VALLEY /
MOUNTAIN MADNESS
#13: FRONTIER MAYHEM / BLOOD FEUD
#14: GOLD RAGE / THE QUEST
#15: MOUNTAIN NIGHTMARE / SAVAGES
#16: BLOOD KIN / THE WESTWARD TIDE
#17: FANG AND CLAW / TRACKDOWN
#18: FRONTIER FURY / THE TEMPEST
#19: PERILS OF THE WIND / MOUNTAIN MAN
#20: FIREWATER / SCAR
#21: BY DUTY BOUND / FLAMES OF JUSTICE
#22: VENGEANCE / SHADOW REALMS
#23: IN CRUEL CLUTCHES / UNTAMED COUNTRY
#24: REAP THE WHIRLWIND / LORD GRIZZLY
#25: WOLVERINE / PEOPLE OF THE FOREST
#26: COMANCHE MOON / GLACIER TERROR
WILDERNESS GIANT EDITIONS
#1: HAWKEN FURY
#2: SEASON OF THE WARRIOR
#3: PRAIRIE BLOOD
#4: ORDEAL
#5: THE TRAIL WEST
ALSO WRITTEN BY DAVID L. ROBBINS
WHITE APACHE
#1: HANGMAN’S KNOT
#2: WARPATH
#3: WARRIOR BORN
#4: QUICK KILLER
#5: BLOOD BATH
#6: BLOOD TREACHERY
#7: BLOODY BOUNTY
#8: THE TRACKERS
#9: DESERT FURY
#10: HANGED!
DAVY CROCKETT
#1: HOMECOMING
#2: SIOUX SLAUGHTER
#3: BLOOD HUNT
#4: MISSISSIPPI MAYHEM
#5: BLOOD RAGE
#6: COMANCHE COUNTRY
#7: TEXICAN TERROR
#8: CANNIBAL COUNTRY
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