The Fiery Cross 767
stock in his hand, the wood warm and solid in his palm, barrel aimed upd over his shoulder, and followed.
tealing carefully round a sumac bush, Roger felt something give suddenly r his foot3 and jerked back to keep his balance. He looked at what he'd ped on, and in spite of his instant disappointment, felt a strong urge to
."Jamie!" he called, not bothering any longer about stealth or silence.
ser's bright hair appeared through a screen of laurel, followed by the man self. He didn't speak, but lifted one thick brow in inquiry.
Allm no great tracker," Roger said, nodding downward, "but I've stepped in gh of these to know one when I see one." He scraped the side of his shoe :a fallen log, and pointed with his toe.
"What d'ye think we've been creeping on,.all this time?"
e stopped short, squinting3 then walked forward and squatted next to corrugated brown splotch. He prodded it with a forefinger, then looked up J;Loger with an expression of mingled amusement and dismay.
:."I will be damned," he said. Still squatting, he turned his head, frowning as surveyed the wilderness around them. "But what are they doing here?" he mured.
He stood up, shading his eyes as he looked toward the creek, where the low-
9 sun dazzled through the branches.
"It doesna make a bit of sense," he said, squinting into the shadows. "There only three kine on the Ridge, and I saw two of them bein' milked thiq ming. The third belongs to Bobby MacLeod, and I should think he5d ken if was his own cow he'd seen. Besides
He turned slowly on his heel, lookg up the steep slope they'd just descended.
He didn't have to speak; no cow not equipped with a parachute could have bme down that way.
"There's more than one-a lot more," Roger said. "You saw."
"Aye, there are. But where did they come from?" Jamie glanced at him, frowning in puzzlement.
"The Indians dinna keep kine, especially not at this wson-they'd slaughter any beasts they had, and smoke the meat. And there's no farm in thirty miles where they might have come from."
"Maybe a wild herd?" Roger suggested.
"Escaped a long time ago, and wan-
4ering?" Speculation sprang UP in Jamie's eyes, echoing the hopeful gurgle of :,Itoger's stomach.
"if so, they'll be easy hunting," Jamie said. skepticism tempered his voice, even as he smiled. He stooped and broke off a small piece of the cow-pat, crushed it with a thumb, then tossed it away-
-Verra fresh3" he said. "They're close; let's go.
Within a half-hour's walking, they emerged onto the bank of the stream they had glimpsed from above. It was wide and shallow here3 with willows trailing leafless branches in the water. Nothing moved save a sparkle of sun on the riffles, but it was plain that the cows had been there; the mud of the bank was cut and churned with drying hoofprints, and in one place, the dying plants had been pawed away in a long, messy trough where something large had wallowed.
768 Diana Gabaldon
"Why did I not think to bring rope?" Jamie muttered, pushing through the willow saplings on the bank as they skirted the wallow. "Meat's one thing, but milk and cheese would be-" The muttering died away, as he turned f
rom the stream, following a trail of broken foliage back into the wood.
Without speaking, the two men spread out, walking softly. Roger listened arest, They had to be nearby; even such with all his might to the quiet of the f
-ye as Roger's had picked up the freshness of the signs. And an inexperienced r
yet the wood was autumn-still, the silence broken only by a raven, c
affing in the distance. The sun was hanging low in the sky, filling the air in the wood with a golden haze. It was getting noticeably colder; Roger passed through a patch of shadow, and shivered, in spite of his coat. They'd have to find the others and make camp soon; twilight was short. A fire would be good. Better, of course, if there were something to cook over it.
They were going down, now, into a small hollow where wisps of autumn mist rose from the cooling earth. Jan-tie was some distance ahead, walking with as much purpose as the broken ground allowed; evidently the trail was still plain to him, in spite of the thick vegetation.
A herd of cows couldn't just vanish, he thought, even in mist as heavy as this ... not unless they were faery kine. And that, he wasn't quite prepared to believe, in spite of the unearthly quiet of the woods just here.
"Roger." Jamie spoke very quietly, but Roger had been listening so intently ather-in-law at once, some distance to his right. Jamie that he located his f
jerked his head at something nearby. "Look."
He held aside a large, brambly bush, exposing the trunk of a substantial sycamore tree. Part of the bark had been rubbed away, leaving an oozing whitish patch on the gray bark.
"Do cows rub themselves like that?" Roger peered dubiously at the patch, then picked out a swatch of wooly dark hair, snagged by the roughened bark. "Aye, sometimes," Jamie replied. He leaned close, shaking his head as he
peered at the dark-brown tangle in Roger's hand. "But damned if I've ever seen a cow wi' a coat Re that. Why ye'd think it was
Something moved at Roger's elbow and he turned, to find a monstrous dark head peering over his shoulder. A tiny, blood-dark eye met his own, and he let out a yell and jerked backward. There was a loud bang as his gun went off, and then a rush and a thud, and he was lying wrapped round a tree trunk, the breath knocked out of him, left with no more than a fleeting notion of a hairy dark bulk and a power that had sent him flying like a leaf.
He sat up, fighting for breath, and found Jamie on his knees in the leaves, scrabbling frantically for Roger's gun.
"Up!" he said. "Up, wee Roger! My God, it's buffalo!"
Then he was up, following Jamie. Still half-winded, but running, his gun in his hand with no clear memory of how it got there, powder-horn bumping against his hip.
Jamie was bounding like a deer through bushes, bundled cloak bouncing against his back. The wood wasn't silent any longer; ahead there were crashings and splinterings, and low snorting bellows.
He caught up Jamie on the upward slope; they labored up it, feet sliding on
The Fiery Cross 769
p leaves, lungs burning from the effort, then topped a rise and came out a long downward slope, scattered with spindly pine and hickory saplings. y were; eight or nine of the huge, shaggy beasts, clustering toThere the
undered down the hill, splitting to go around thickets and one knee, sighted, and fired, to no apparent effect. eser Jaasmtiheedyropped to
must keep the he There was no time to stop and reload; they
ad o and to therd in sight. A f the stream glinted between the trees, below
ged down the slope in a right. Roger rush of excitement, canteen and bullet-box flying, ooves of the buffalo herd. He could hear Jamie belt thundering like the h
him, shouting Gaelic exhortations.
behind made Roger glance back. Jamie had &'An exclamation in a different tone get could call to him, shock shifted ped, his face frozen in shock. Before Ro barrel, and brought
a look of fury. Teeth bared, he seized his gun by the gu an Wn the stock with a vicious tchunk! Barely pausing, he lifted the n d bed it down again-and again, shoulders rolling with the effort.
turned and bounded up the slope Reluctantly abandoning the chase, Roger
toward him felt the hair on his body rise in a surge
1-, -What the hell-?" Then he saw, and thick and scaly. One 'of revulsion. Brown coils squirmed between the tussocks)
,crid of the snake had been battered to pulp, and its blood stained the butt of -1raser's musket, but the body writhed on, wormlike and headless.
it,s dead. D'ye hear me Stop, I say!" He grasped Fraser's arm, but "Stop!
his father-in-law jerked free of his hold and brought the gun-butt down once shuddering violently, half-leaning on more. Then he did stop, and stood
his gun.
> :1 66 sti what happene& Did it get your"
Chri . Jamie-Is face was white to the lips. He "Aye, in the leg. I stepped on it."
looked at the still-writhing corpse and a deep shudder ran through him again. Roger repressed his own shudder and grabbed Fraser's arm.
"Come away. Sit down, we'll have a look."
bling, and collapsed onto a fallen log. He fumbled at Jamie came, half-sturn, shed Jamie's hand away and stripped his stocking top, fingers shaking. Roger pu fang marks were clear, a double buskin and stocking off the right foot. The e small holes dark-red puncture in the flesh of Fraser's calf. The flesh around th
had a bluish tinge, visible even in the late. gold light.
"It's poisonous. 1, ve got to cut it.,, Roger felt dry-mouthed, but oddly calm, r ought briefly of . pulle
with no sense of panic. H d the knife from his belt, th s to light sterilization, and dismissed the notion. it would take precious minute
a fire, and there was no time at ail to waste.
H white, but had stopped shaking. He took the small t4Wait." Fraser was sti few drops flask from his belt and trickled whisky over the blade, then poured a a brief on his fingers and rubbed the liquid over the wound. He gave Roger
twitch of the mouth, meant as a smile - rself to cut someone." He leaned backI "Claire does that, when she sets he
hands braced on the mossy trunk, and nodded. "Go on, then."
Biting his lip in concentration, Roger pressed the tip of the knife into the of the puncture marks. The skin was surprisingly tough skin just above one
770 Diana Gabaldo.
and springy; the knife dented it, but didn't penetrate. Fraser reached down and clasped his hand around Roger's; he shoved, with a deep, vicious
the knif grunt, arid e sank suddenly in, an inch or more. Blood welled up around the blade; the gripping hand fell away.
for God's sake." Jamie's voice was steady, "Again. Hard-and quick, man,
all onto his hand from Fraser's face, but Roger felt clear droplets Of sweat f
warm and then cold on his skin.
He braced himself to the necessary f -two orce, stabbed hard and cut quick
X marks over the punctures, just as the first-aid guides said. The wounds were bleeding a lot, blood pouring down in thick streams. That was good, though, he thought
. He had to go deep; deep enough to get beyond the poison. He dropped the knife and bent, mouth to the wounds.
ast did venom There was no panic, but his sense of urgency was rising, How f
spread? He had no more than minutes,
maybe less. Roger sucked as hard as he could, blood filling his mouth with the taste of hot metal. He sucked and spat in quiet frenzy, blood spattering on the Yellow leaves, Fraser's leg hairs scratchy against his lips. With the peculiar diffiision of mind that attends emergency, he thought of a dozen fleeting things at once, even as he bent his whole concentration to the task at hand.
Was the bloody snake really dead? How poisonous was it?
Had the bison got away? Christ, was he doing this right?
Brianna would kill him if he let her father die. So would Claire, He had the devil of a cramp in his right thigh.
or them-no, he was callWhere in hell were the others? Fraser should call f
ing, was bellowing somewhere outside Roger's ken. The flesh Of the leg Roger held had gone rock-hard, muscles rigid under his pressing fingers.
Something grasped the hair on the back of his head and twisted,
to stop. He glanced up, breathing hard. forcing him "That's enough,
aye?" Jamie said mildly. "You,11 drain me dry," He gingerly wiggled his bared foot, grimacing at his leg. The slashmarks were vivid, still ozing blood, and the flesh around them was swollen f
0 blotched and bruised. rom the sucking, Roger sat back on his heels, gulping air.
"I've made more-of a mess-than the snake did."
His mouth filled with saliva; he coughed and spat. Fraser silently off
the whisk ered him deep. Y flask; he swirled a moutliftil round and spat once more, then drank "All right?" He wiped his chin with the back of a hand, still tasting iro
nodded at the macerated leg. n, and "I'll do." Jamie was still pale, but One corner of his mouth turned up. "Go and see are the others in sight."
They weren't; the view from the top Of the outcrop showed not ng but a sea of bare branches, hi
tossing to and fro. The wind had come up, If the bison still moved along the river, there was no trace visible, e hunters. either of them or of th ir
Hoarse from hallooing into the wind, Roger made his way back down the
The Fiery Cross 771
pe. Jamie had moved a little, finding a sheltered spot among rocks at the t of a big, balsam fir. He was sittm , back against a rock and legs outg,
etched, a handkerchief bound round his wounded leg.
"No sign of anyone. Can ye walk?" Roger bent over his father-in-law, and despite the gathering chill alarmed to see him flushed and sweating heavily,
f the air.
Jamie shook his head and gestured toward his leg.
"I can-but not for long." The leg was noticeably swollen near the bite, and e blue tinge had spread; it showed like a faint fresh bruise on either side of dkerchief.
*e encircling han
i Roger felt the first stab of uneasiness. He had done everything he knew to .4o; first- d guides always had as the next step in the- treatment of snakebite, ai
44mmobilize limb and get patient to hospital as soon as possible." The cutting
6d sucking were meant to pull poison from the wound-but clearly there was plenty still left, spreading slowly through Jamie Fraser's body. He hadn't been a time to get it all-if he'd gotten any. And the nearest thing to a hospitaliQlaire and her herbs-a day's walk away.
' Roger sank slowly down onto his haunches, wondering what the hell to do itcxt, Immobilize the limb-well, that was effectively taken care Of, for what good it might do.
"Hurt much?" he asked awkwardly. 'Yes.
With this unhelpful response, Jamie leaned back against the rock and closed his eyes. Roger eased himself down onto a sheaf of dry needles, trying to think. It was getting dark fast; the brief warmth of the day had faded, and the shad-
ows, under the trees had taken on the deep blue look of evening, though it couldn't be more than four or so. Plainly they weren't going anywhere tonight; navigation in the mountains was nearly impossible in the dark, even if Fraser could walk. If the others were here, they could make a shift to carry him-but would that be any better than leaving him where he was) While he urgently wished Claire were here, sense told him there was little even she could do--except, perhaps, comfort Jamie if he were to die ...
The thought knotted his belly. Shoving it firmly aside, he reached into his pouch, checking supplies. He had a small quantity of johnny-cake still in his bag; water was never a difficulty in these mountains-through the sound of the trees, he could hear the gurgle of a stream somewhere below, not far off. He'd better be gathering wood while it was still light, though.
"We'd best make a fire." Jamie spoke suddenly, startling Roger with this echo of his thought. Jamie opened his eyes and looked down at one hand, turning it over and back as though he'd never seen it before.
"I've pins and needles in my fingers," he remarked with interest. He touched his face with one hand. "Here, too. My lips have gone numb. Is that usual, d'ye ken?"
"I don't know. I suppose it is, if you've been drinking the whisky." It was a feeble joke, but he was relieved to have it greeted with a faint laugh.
"Nay." Jamie touched the flask beside him. "I thought I might need it more, later."
Roger took a deep breath and stood up.
77.2 Diana Gabaldon
"Right. Stay there; you shouldn't move. I'll fetch along some wood. others will likely see the light of the fire." The other men would be of no The
particular help, at least not until morning-but it would b
e a comfort not to be alone.
"Fetch the snake, too," Jamie called after him. "Fair's fair; we'll hae a bite him for our supper!" of Grinning in spite of present worry, Roger gave a reassuring wave and turn
down the slope. ed What were the chances? he asked himself, stooping to wrest a thick pine knot from the soft wood of a rotted log. Fraser was a big man, and in robust health. Surely he would survive.
Yet folk did die of snakebite, and not infrequently; he'd heard only last week of a German woman near High Point; bent to pick up a stick of wood from her woodpile, struck fiffl in the throat by a snake lying hidden there, dead in minutes. Reaching under a bush for a dry branch just as this recollection came to him, he hastily withdrew his bare hand, gooseflesh running up his arm. Berating himself for stupidity, he got a stick and thoroughly stirred the drift of dry leaves before reaching once more cautiously into it.
ew minutes, feeling a small He couldn't help glancing up the slope every f
of alarm whenever Fraser was out of sight. What if he should collapse bestab
fore Roger returned?
Then he relaxed a little as he remembered. No, it was all right. Jamie wasn't going to die tonight, either of snakebite or cold. He couldn't; he was meant to die some years hence, by fire. For once, future doom meant present reassurance. He took a deep breath and let it out in relief, then steeled himself to approach the snake.
ort of will It was motionless now, quite obviously dead. Still, it took some eff
to pick the thing up. It was as thick around as his wrist and nearly f
long. It had begun to stiff our feet en; in the end, he was obliged to lay it across the armload of firewood, like a scaly branch. Seeing it so, he had no trouble imagining how the snake that had bitten the German woman had escaped notice; the sub
'k tle browns and grays of its patterns made it nearly invisible against its back ground.
Jamie skinned the thing while Roger built the fire. Watching from the comer of his eye, he could see that his father-in-law was making an unusually clumsy job of it; the numbness in his hands must be
getting worse.
doggedly, hacking at the corpse, stringing chunks of pa e raw Still, he went on peeled twig with trembling fingers. flesh onto a halfThe job complete, Jamie extended the stick toward the budding fire and
nearly dropped it. Roger grabbed for it, and felt through the stick the tremor that shook Jamie's hand and arm.
"You all right?" he said, and reached automatically to feel Jamie's forehead. Fraser jerked back, surprised and mildly affronted.
"Aye," he said, but then paused.
mitted. "Aye, well ... I do feel a bit queer," he adIt was hard to tell in the uncertain fight, but Roger thought he looked a good bit more than queer.
The Fiery Cross 773
CILie down for a bit, why don't you?" he suggested, trying to sound casual. Sleep if ye can; I'll wake ye when the food's ready."
Jamie didn't argue, which alarmed Roger more than anything else so far. He himself into a drift of leaves, moving his wounded leg with a care that Roger just how painfi:d it was.
The Fiery Cross Page 107
