The wilderness was anything but peaceful. It was a savage realm of fang and claw where the only true peace was the peace of the grave. Yet God help him, Nate loved it. Not the savagery, but the freedom that came from living without laws and rules. The only restraints were those he imposed on himself.
It was freedom in its purest sense, and more precious to him than the security of civilized society.
A long time ago, when the children were small, Nate had asked Winona if she would rather live east of the Mississippi where there were fewer dangers. She had stopped sewing and looked at him with that special look of hers and said that danger had always been part of her existence. She couldn’t let fear of it rule her. Life was for living, not hiding.
“Husband! Look!”
Nate came out of his reverie. They were on the north side of the lake. Ahead was his son’s cabin. Lou was at the window, waving her arms.
“We should stop!” Winona called.
Reluctantly, Nate slowed. He would only take a minute and be on his way. Whoever had fired that shot might need help. Any delay could prove fatal.
Chapter Seventeen
Snakes were all over her.
Evelyn held herself still and clenched her fists and bit her lower lip so hard she drew a drop of blood, all in an effort to keep from screaming and flailing. Serpents were on her arms, her chest, her head. She never knew when one might sense she was a threat and attack.
The sorrel stopped breathing. A last gasp, its tongue lolled from its mouth, and it was gone.
Evelyn would have wept if she wasn’t so afraid. Here she had always thought of herself as somewhat brave. She’d faced buffalo and bears and an alligator once and survived people trying to kill her, and none of that filled her with the fear and loathing this did. Having snake after snake crawl over her, having their bodies brush her clothes and rub her skin—she could barely stand it.
Their number became fewer and fewer until at long last she had none on her. She hoped that was the end of them, that they had all gone into the woods, but she was mistaken.
Out of the pool came five more, some of the biggest yet, crawling slowly but inexorably toward her and the poor sorrel.
“Please, no,” Evelyn pleaded, and squeezed her eyes tight shut. Maybe if she didn’t watch them it wouldn’t affect her as much. She heard them, though, heard the scrape of scales on cloth and a hiss. One crawled onto her arm. Her natural reaction was to jerk her arm away, but she commanded herself not to move. The snake wriggled onto her chest, and stopped.
Evelyn almost sobbed. She waited for it to move on and when it didn’t, she cracked her eyelids. The thing was huge, as thick around as her pa’s arm. Its head was a few inches from her face and it was flicking its tongue as if testing the air. Keep going, she mentally begged. Please keep going.
The rattler didn’t move. It looked around and then lay back down with its lower jaw on her shoulder.
Dear God, Evelyn thought. It was resting on her. It must like how warm her body was after the cold of the water. She suppressed an impulse to shudder. She mustn’t so much as twitch. But how long could she stay still? Evelyn asked herself. Her nerves were raw. She was frayed to where she might lose control. Please, she prayed, make it go away.
The rattler started to coil. She tensed, expecting it to attack, but no, it coiled in on itself and lay on her chest with its head on top of its coils. It wasn’t going anywhere. It might stay on her for the rest of the day, for all she knew.
Evelyn couldn’t take it. She just couldn’t. She knew that if she screamed or she moved it would make the snake mad, but her need to get it off overwhelmed her reason. Torn from her innermost being, ripped from her against her will, a keening shriek burst from her lips. Simultaneously, she swatted at the snake with all her might and sent it tumbling onto the ground. For a span of heartbeats she felt sheer elation. It was off her! She was safe!
A hiss shattered the illusion.
Evelyn twisted her head.
The rattler had coiled and its tail was buzzing like a hundred angry hornets. Its baleful eyes fixed on her and it poised to strike.
Zach King stood at the rear corner of his cabin, his Bowie in his left hand, his tomahawk in his right. Before him were puddles and pools teeming with snakes. Many of the reptiles were making for the trees. If he waited a while, the shore would be clear, but he couldn’t shake a persistent feeling that his sister was in trouble. He must get to her quickly.
Taking a deep breath, Zach bounded forward. He vaulted a viper, skirted another. A thick one reared in his path and he separated its head from its body. To the right was a clear space. A few steps, and he jumped over several rattlers entwined together. He tried not to think of how many there were. He tried not to dwell on the consequences of being bitten. He thought only of Evelyn, and of not letting anything stop him from reaching her.
The next stretch was clear of water and almost clear of rattlers. He ran faster. Well to the east a mound caught his eye, a mound where none had been before. He couldn’t quite make out what it was and he couldn’t keep staring at it with snakes to watch out for.
A lot of small pools and puddles appeared, pools and puddles writhing with serpents.
Zach stopped. It would be easier to go around. He turned toward the lake and glanced at the strange mound again—and his pulse quickened. He had realized what it was; a horse, on its side. And when he squinted he could make out a part of a saddle.
“Evelyn,” Zach said, and flew toward it. He didn’t care that there were rattlesnakes in his path. He didn’t see his sister and that meant she must be down, too, and nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to stop him from reaching her. He slashed a rattler, sidestepped, cut another, took several long bounds and cleared a moving rug of scaly death. He landed, swung, rent a reptilian head, spun, chopped another in half and was in motion even as the blow landed.
He didn’t dare stop, didn’t dare relax, didn’t dare relent. He must stay on the move so he was harder to bite. Speed and reflexes, they were the key. He mustn’t think. He mustn’t worry about Evelyn. He hacked. He cut. Always in motion, always slicing. There were so many snakes. So very many. For every serpent he slew there were ten more.
A big one with green markings lashed at his foot. He jumped and struck as he alighted, his tomahawk splitting its skull as neatly as a butcher knife split red meat. Then he was on the move again, running, jumping, dodging, evading. He was closer to the horse, but he couldn’t look at it. Not yet. Not until he was there.
More rattlers bared his way. Those heading for the forest paid no attention to him unless he came near them and then most hissed and a few coiled, but they didn’t attack. He cleared a knot of ten or more and in front of him were a pair of thick ones, one on his right and the other on his left, big and coiled and their tails buzzing chorus. Both struck at his legs and Zach leaped straight up as high as he could leap. The two snakes flashed under his moccasins. He came down on top of them, slamming his right foot on the neck of the one and his left foot onto the head of the other. Instantly he speared the Bowie in and drove the tomahawk down. Then he was off and running, jumping, spinning.
I’m coming, Evelyn, he thought. I’m coming for you.