Nate was almost to the corner. He stopped and turned. It took a few seconds for what he was seeing to sink in. Water covered much of the ground, inches of it, to within five or six yards of their front door. At first it appeared as if the water was moving, but it wasn’t the water, it was something in the water. He took a few steps and the shapes acquired form. “It can’t be,” he blurted.
“You see them, then?”
Nate nodded. Snakes. Rattlesnakes. Hundreds of the things, swimming, crawling, moving aimlessly about as if they had no sense of where they should go. “God in heaven.”
Winona was aghast. She had never seen so many at one time. The whole shore was covered. Washed from somewhere by the rain, she suspected. “You were right about the hunt,” she said. “There must have been a den close by. If only we had found it.”
Small consolation for Nate. He was thinking of the shot they heard. One shot, and nothing else. “Stay here. Close the door and keep it closed.” He ran around the cabin to the corral. A large rattler was coiled almost at his feet. Drawing his Bowie, he hefted it, cocked his arm, and threw. The razor tip sliced into the serpent’s blunt head between its alien eyes and cleaved the skull nearly in half. The body whipped wildly back and forth.
Winona came running up. She had gone in for her own rifle and rushed back out. Bending, she yanked the Bowie loose and held the hilt toward him. “We must get to her right away.”
“Me,” Nate said. “Not we.”
“She is my daughter, too.” Winona turned to the gate.
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Give me one good reason.”
Nate recited several. “It’s dangerous enough for one person. We can’t afford to lose two horses. And if McNair or Waku and his family show up, someone should be here to warn them about the snakes.”
“I am going,” Winona insisted.
“I can’t watch out for you and me, both.”
“Who asked you to? I can take care of myself, as you well know.”
“What about Shakespeare and the Nansusequas?”
“They are not stupid. They will see the snakes and avoid them just as we will.”
Nate knew better, but he asked, “There’s nothing I can say or do, is there, to change your mind?”
“Not a thing. Nothing will keep me from my daughter. Not the Great Mystery. Not the snakes. Not you, husband, as much as I love you.” Winona gestured. “We are wasting precious time. Our daughter might need us.”
“Saddles?” Nate said.
“More wasted time. We can ride bareback.”
Nate slid bridles on his bay and her mare. He led the pair out and climbed on the bay. Winona swung onto her mare and together they went around the cabin and promptly drew rein.
“How will we get past all those snakes?” Winona wondered.
Nate had been thinking about that. The rattlers were virtually everywhere except for a narrow strip along the lake—and in the lake itself. “Stay behind me.” He reined toward the water and rode at a slow walk. Between the cabin and the lake the snakes weren’t as thick, but there were enough to make him nervous. The thud of the bay’s heavy hooves sent most of them gliding away. A few hissed but didn’t stand their ground.
“Look out!” Winona cried.
One of the snakes had coiled and raised its head to strike.
Chapter Sixteen
Evelyn King pulsed with fear. She tried to stand, but her left leg was pinned. The horse lay unmoving and silent save for the rasp of its labored breathing. “Please, no,” Evelyn said. She pushed against the sorrel. She pushed harder. She might as well push a mountain.
The rattler kept coming. It was crawling straight for her, its tongue constantly flicking.
Evelyn stabbed her hand for her other flintlock. Terror seized her as she realized it was gone. She glanced about her, but it was nowhere to be seen. Maybe it was under the horse, she thought. She groped for her knife in its sheath on her left hip, but she couldn’t pull the blade free. It was wedged tight by her weight and she couldn’t rise high enough to work it free. She gave a last frantic tug, and the snake reached her.
Evelyn turned to stone. She expected it to coil and bite. Instead, it crawled up onto her shoulder. She shuddered at the contact and immediately willed herself to stop in case it provoked the snake into striking. The rattler went crawling on past as if she were a rock or a log.
“God,” Evelyn breathed, and grinned. She had been lucky, awful lucky. She pushed at the saddle and at the sorrel with the same result as before. Tiring, she sank onto her back and stared at the sky. She needed help. She couldn’t extricate herself alone. Rising onto her elbows, she went to shout—and new fear gushed through her like spears of ice.
More snakes were emerging from the pool and making for the woods. Six, seven, eight of them, six rattlers and a bull snake and another that might be a ribbon snake. They crawled with purpose, their heads slightly raised, forked tongues darting.
Evelyn choked off a cry as the foremost viper crawled over the sorrel’s neck and onto her chest. It was so close to her face, she could have stuck out her own tongue and licked it. Rigid with fright, she didn’t breathe. She saw the vertical slits in its eyes, she saw every scale. The feel of it brushing across her body was almost more than she could bear. No sooner was it off her when another smaller rattler took its place. This one, too, went over her without a sideways look. A third rattler slithered over the sorrel and onto her. It was thicker than the others, the skin pattern not the same. The head came even with her chin—and the rattler stopped and swung its head toward her.
Evelyn resisted an impulse to scream and throw it off. She started to swallow and caught herself. The snake’s tongue was an inch from her throat. She prayed it would keep going but it just lay there, staring. Its mouth opened and she braced for the pain of its fangs, but all it did was hiss and continue on. She closed her eyes tight and fought back tears. When she opened them, the snake was off her.
Evelyn didn’t know how much of this she could stand. The other snakes had gone wide of her, but there were bound to be more. She pushed at the sorrel with all the strength in her, but it wasn’t enough. Exhausted, she sank onto her back and closed her eyes again. She couldn’t imagine where all the snakes had come from. She didn’t really care. She wanted away from there, to be with Dega, to have him hold her in his arms. She liked being in his arms more than she had ever liked anything. It felt so good, so comforting. She wondered if she would ever see him again. The thought of not seeing him brought an ache to her chest, a hurt so powerful it was as if her heart were being crushed.
Something was on her arm.
Evelyn opened her eyes and wished she hadn’t. A veritable legion of snakes were streaming out of the pool and nearby puddles and moving in a body toward the drier sanctuary of the forest floor, so many of them that in places they formed a living carpet of moving scales. She barely had time to brace herself when four of them crawled onto her, moving across her chest, the nearest brushing her chin as it went by.
Tears filled Evelyn’s eyes, but she refused to cry. Not with more snakes wriggling onto her. She couldn’t look. Again she shut her eyes and felt a serpentine form glide over her neck. Another went over the top of her head. All it would take was for her to sneeze and she was as good as bitten.
Evelyn thought of her father and mother. In the past she had always counted on them to get her out of tight scrapes. Not this time. They were too far away. Even if they heard the shot, they might figure it was someone shooting game and not realize she was in trouble.