“I would be remiss not to bring it up. If he loves this Shoshone, he should want her to change her heathen ways.”
Nate’s coffee had lost its savor. He set down his cup, picked up his rifle, and stood. “I should be going. Expect me back by sunset.”
“Finish your coffee, at least,” Agatha urged.
“Yes, please do,” Philberta said. “I am sorry if my strong talk upset you. But it was for your own good. And for your Shoshone’s.”
“Her name is Winona.”
“A pretty name. But I could never marry an Indian, Mr. King. As for loving one, well, to each their own. I would as soon marry a bear as some greasy buck who spends his days lifting white scalps and his nights scratching himself.”
“Philberta!”
Nate headed for the door. He decided he didn’t like Philberta Woodrow. He didn’t like her at all. “I’ll go check on the others.”
“Be careful, Mr. King,” Tyne said.
Aunt Aggie followed him outside. “Pay no attention to Philberta. She has always been that way.”
“I’ve met her kind before,” Nate said. “The ones who think the only good Indian is a dead Indian.”
“There is hate on both sides. It’s deplorable, but what can we do? Too much blood has been shed. I’m not a bigot like Philberta, but I sometimes think we won’t have true peace until all the Indians are on reservations.”
“I hope it never comes to that.” Nate climbed on the bay and gripped the reins.
“What would you do if war ever broke out between the Shoshones and the whites?” Aunt Aggie asked.
“It never will. The Shoshones are the friendliest tribe on the frontier.”
“But if it did. Whose side would you be on?”
“My own. I would do what I thought best for everyone.”
Aunt Aggie smiled. “You’ve chosen a hard path, Nate King.”
“I’ve followed my heart. And I have no complaints, Agatha. My wife is as fine a woman as ever lived. My children try my patience at times, but they are blood of my blood, and I will stand by all three of them, come whatever may.”
“I envy them.”
“Remember to keep the door closed.” Nate wheeled the bay and crossed the clearing to the stream. Fitch and Harper were supposed to be on the other side, scouring their half of the valley. It wasn’t long before he found their tracks, and within the hour he spotted the brothers near the cliffs. Unlike the other side of the valley, here there were no bones and no maggot-infested remains.
“Mr. King!” Fitch said as Nate rode up.
“Find anything?”
Both boys shook their heads, their weariness apparent.
“We’ve looked and looked and haven’t come across any sign of Uncle Sully or our cousins,” Harper said.
“We’re afraid we’ll never see them again,” Fitch said. “I liked our cousins, too. Norton was the same age as me.”
“Don’t stay at it too much longer,” Nate warned. “Be at the cabin before dark.”
“We’ll try. But we want to cover this whole side of the valley today, if we can.”
“Do as I say,” Nate directed. He felt guilty not telling them about what he found. They were old enough to handle it. “Can the two of you keep a secret for the time being?”
“Hope to die if we don’t,” Fitch said.
“I’m serious. It would upset your sisters. I intended to tell your mother and father first and let them tell the rest of you, but you should know.” Nate paused. “I found your Uncle Sully. Or what’s left of him. He was killed just like that elk and the Blackfoot.”
The brothers looked at one another.
“You did?” Harper exclaimed. “He was? But what killed them, Mr. King? What kind of animal tore that elk apart? And gouged out that redskin’s eye like that?”
Nate hesitated. He could be wrong. “It might not have been an animal,” was as far as he was willing to commit himself.
“What then? Hostiles? We haven’t sign of any.”
“I think that whatever”—Nate caught himself—“or whoever killed your uncle is still here. I think they are biding their time and will strike when our guard is down.” He gazed at the still-bright sky. “It could be they are waiting for the sun to set. I suspect they like the dark more than the day.”
“Who are these ‘they’ you keep talking about?” Fitch asked.
“What tribe do they belong to?” From Harper.
“I never said they were Indians.”
“Who else, then? Are you saying they are white men? A band of cutthroats and killers?”
“They might be white, yes. The important thing is that they will kill you if they get their hands on you, so whatever you do, don’t give them the chance.”
“We aren’t infants.”
“Neither are they.”
On that note, Nate left. He recrossed the stream, passing close to the cabin to make sure the front door was closed. It took a while to find Peter’s and Erleen’s tracks. They had gone toward the open end of the valley. He figured they were on their way back by now and he would meet them halfway. But he was almost to the end of the valley himself when he heard a strange sort of thuk-thuk-thuk, as if someone were striking the ground. A dozen yards further, and he came on a small clearing. In the center, digging with a branch, was Peter. Over to the left stood Erleen, holding the reins to their horses. Neither noticed him, and he couldn’t help but think how easy it would be to kill them. Drawing rein, he cleared his throat.
“Nate!” Erleen hurried over. “I am so glad to see you! You won’t believe what we found.”
Peter had stopped digging and was mopping his brow with a sleeve. “Who, not what, my dear.” He motioned at a blanket draped over a prone form.
“See for yourself,” Erleen urged. “But be warned. You need a strong stomach. I am afraid mine wasn’t strong enough.”
Nate dismounted. “Where did you find him?”
“You’ve guessed, then?” Peter motioned again. “We found him right where he is. It appears he was dragged here from higher up.”
The body of Edwin Ryker had been literally ripped to pieces.
“What did that to him?” Erleen anxiously asked. “What in God’s name are we up against?”
Before Nate could reply, from far down the valley, from the vicinity of the cabin, there came a scream of mortal terror.
The Gathering Fear
Fear raced through Nate King’s veins as he galloped headlong along the trail. To him, the screamer had sounded like Tyne. But it could just as well have been Anora or one of the women.
Nate was worried they had opened the front door and left it open. He imagined the lurkers in the woods creeping across the clearing and bursting inside before the women had a chance to arm themselves. It would all be over in minutes. Aggie, Tyne, Anora, Philberta, they would all end up like Sullivan and Ryker.
“Please God, no,” Nate breathed. The bay was going as fast as it could, but it wasn’t fast enough to suit Nate. In his anxiety he lashed the reins and jabbed his heels, trying to get an extra spurt of speed out of the animal.
Somewhere behind him were Peter and Erleen. Nate hadn’t waited for them to mount. Nor was he about to slow and wait for them now. He had warned them that something like this might happen, but they had refused to listen. Now he prayed their pig-headedness didn’t cost the girls their lives.
Nate approached the last bend before the clearing. He was so intent on the trail ahead that he almost missed movement in the forest to his left. He glanced over and saw a pale figure dart behind a thicket. It moved so quickly that he could not note much detail. But it was on two legs, that much was certain. Adding proof his hunch was right. He almost gave chase. Only the thought that the girls and Aggie might need him kept him flying to their aid.