Nate had heard of them. Their full name, as he recollected, was the United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second Appearing. They lived in communities or villages all their own and had little to do with the outside world.
Shakespeare cleared his throat. “A new colony, you say?”
“Yes. A place all their own, a valley. I’ve never been there. Their leader, the man who hired me, gave me a map, but it blew away one night when I was studying on how to get there.” Blunt looked at Nate. “That’s the favor I’d like to ask. Unknown territory is always full of hazards for my wagons. I’m hoping you can lead me there and save me a lot of trouble.”
“Where, exactly?” Nate asked.
Blunt pointed to the northwest. “Up near the geyser country. The valley has a peculiar name, but their leader swears it’s a new Eden.”
“What name?”
“It’s called the Valley of Skulls.”
“Zounds,” McNair said, and he did not sound pleased.
“What’s the matter, Uncle Shakespeare?” Evelyn asked him. “Do you know of this place? You, too, Pa?”
Nate nodded.
“You look fit to choke,” Blunt said to McNair. “What do you know that I don’t? Why is it called the Valley of Skulls?”
“It sounds spooky,” Evelyn said.
Nate waited with everyone else for his mentor to speak. He knew some of the valley’s history but not all and he had long been curious.
“To the Indians the valley is bad medicine,” Shakespeare began. “Not just to a few tribes, to all of them. Not one will go anywhere near it.”
“That’s partly why the Shakers picked it,” Blunt said. “To be safe from hostiles. The other part is that the ground shakes from time to time, or so their leader told me. He heard about the valley from an acquaintance of John Coulter’s.”
Nate met Coulter once. Coulter had been with the Lewis and Clark expedition and stayed on exploring after the pair returned to the States. Coulter was the first white man to ever set eyes on the hot springs and geysers that became known as Coulter’s Hell.
Blunt had gone on. “Their leader—his name is Lexington, Arthur Lexington—took it as an omen. The way he told it to me is that the shaking ground is a sign from heaven that the valley is sacred to the Lord, and what better place for a colony of Shakers to live?”
Evelyn fidgeted with impatience. “But no one has said why they call it the Valley of Skulls. Why won’t the Indians go there?”
“Because, sweet angel,” Shakespeare said somberly, “nearly everyone who does dies.”
Chapter Four
The Shoshones, the Crows, the Nez Perce, and other tribes all had stories to tell about the Valley of Skulls. The stories varied as to the particulars, but all agreed on certain points.
Long ago the valley was inhabited by a long-nosed race who wore crude hides and carried clubs and lived in the many caves on the sides of the valley and preyed on the animals that roamed the valley floor. This was in the days before Coyote created the first true people, back when there were many large and unusual and marvelous animals unlike any that lived now.
Legend had it that when the early people tried to make friends with the Long Noses, the Long Noses rose up in fierce violence and drove the people out. As punishment, Coyote had the ground shake so hard that it killed all the Long Noses in their caves and all the strange animals on the valley floor.
For many moons the early people stayed away from the valley, but then several made bold to explore and were amazed at what they found. Everywhere there were skeletons, picked clean as if by a swarm of buzzards. Giant skulls gleamed white, skulls of creatures the early people had never seen. The stench was horrible. Not the smell of the bones but the smell of the air itself. It made the early people cough and choke. They quickly left, and after that the valley became known as the Valley of Skulls.
For ages now the neighboring tribes considered the valley bad medicine and tribal members were warned to stay out. A few hunters had strayed into it and never come out. Once a war party thought to use the valley as a shortcut to where they were going and only a few made it out alive. They reported that it was a vile place where the ground shook and strange fogs appeared.
All this went through Nate’s mind as he listened to Shakespeare recount the legends.
“Remarkable,” Jeremiah Blunt said. “But from what I understand, the Shakers have been living there awhile now and not had any problems. So what do you say, King? Are you willing to guide my train?”
Nate would rather not. He would rather head for his own valley with Evelyn and his friends. He would rather be safe and snug in his cabin with his wife and family. But he owed this man, and he replied, “It will take us weeks, but I can get you there.”
“Oh, goody!” Evelyn exclaimed in delight. “I want to see this mysterious valley for myself.”
“You’re not going anywhere near it,” Nate said.
“What? Why not?”
“Because your uncle Shakespeare is taking you and Waku and his family straight home.”
“Aw, Pa.” Evelyn didn’t hide her annoyance. “It will be an adventure.”
Shakespeare gave a rumbling laugh. “Haven’t you had enough excitement of late? You were lucky to escape those scalp hunters. You shouldn’t push your luck, little one.”
Evelyn wouldn’t let it drop, but Nate refused to give in. That night after supper, he got up to stretch his legs and came on his daughter and Waku’s son, Degamawaku, over by the horses. They didn’t notice him and were talking in hushed tones. He didn’t want Evelyn to think he was snooping, so he started to back away.
“It wrong not tell,” Dega said.
“Trust me on this,” Evelyn responded.
“It wrong,” Dega insisted.
Nate saw his daughter clasp Dega’s hand.
“You have a lot to learn about white ways. There is a time and a place, and this isn’t it.”
Then Nate was out of earshot. He wondered what that was about and figured if it was anything important Evelyn would inform him. She rarely kept secrets.
The next morning Shakespeare pumped Nate’s hand and said, “Don’t fret, Horatio. I’ll watch over her as if she were my own. I’ll get her to your cabin and she’ll be waiting there when you return.”
“I know I can count on you.” There was no one Nate trusted more.
Evelyn was still miffed. She hugged him and said, “I wish you would change your mind, Pa. I’ll behave. I’ll do whatever you tell me to. Only I’d really love to see this valley.”
“No, and that’s final.”
Still, it tugged at Nate’s heartstrings to stand there and smile and wave as they rode off.
“I thank you for this,” Jeremiah Blunt said at his elbow. “As a father, I know what you must be going through.”
“I gave you my word.”
“A man after my own heart,” Blunt said, and smiled. “Now suppose we get under way? It will help if you keep busy.”
Nate didn’t have much to do. He saddled the bay and was ready to ride well before the oxen were hitched and Blunt gave the order for the wagons to move out. He admired how the men bustled about and how efficiently they followed orders. There wasn’t a slackard in the bunch. Blunt had a lot to do with that; he gave a command once, in a quiet tone, and the men leaped to obey.
At midday, when they stopped to rest the teams, Nate mingled with the freighters. There were twenty-two, a tough, taciturn bunch. They took turns either handling a wagon or riding flank and rear guard. To a man, they bristled with weapons and when riding guard were always alert.