The Soul Survivors Series Boxed Set

by Vella Munn

  Now he saw whites as people who threatened his family's life. They'd already killed Aga and probably had murdered Chiwulha whose legs were too weak to allow him to leave the stronghold. Ha-kar-Jim had been wrong; killing the army's leaders hadn't caused the enemy to scatter.

  Maybe they never would.

  * * *

  Cho-Cho silently directed his warriors to make their way to the top of the small depression toward which the army was marching. If they entered the long, narrow valley, the Modocs could easily trap them there. Luash went with them; perhaps Eagle would spread his protective wings over those she loved. She could see no other way.

  Although she hadn't seen him earlier, she wasn't surprised when Kientpoos joined them. After speaking briefly with him, Cho-Cho signaled to some of the warriors to position themselves so they would be on either side of the army.

  Several times Kientpoos looked at her, but he didn't speak to her. She remembered, years ago, watching as he stood in Modoc Lake with water lapping around his legs, his fingers around a spear while he waited for a fish to swim close. Today the army was the fish.

  On came the soldiers, the noises from animals and wagons rasping her nerves and making her feel as if she'd been caught in a current from which there was no escaping. It seemed impossible that none of the white men heard her breathing, but maybe the strangers were so frightened that all they could hear was the pounding of their own hearts.

  Only they might not all be strangers. One might be the man who had taken her body in the dark.

  * * *

  The back of Jed's neck prickled, but it had been doing that so much today that he didn't know what to make of it. For the past hour he'd been walking some hundred yards to the south and ahead of the rest of the troop, wishing to hell he wasn't the only one who believed closely bunched men presented a damn easy target.

  When the almost painful sensation repeated itself, he climbed onto a rock and looked around. Where the hell had everyone disappeared to? They'd been here just—swearing, he jumped off the rock and started running back to where he'd last seen them. Before he'd covered half the distance, he heard a chorus of groans and complaints, interspersed with sighs. As he'd feared, the entire troop had settled down in a shallow ravine. Still cursing, he clambered over the edge and half walked, half slid down to where some of the soldiers were already removing their boots.

  The top of the depression was no more than twenty feet above him, but from where he now stood, he could no longer look out at the land around them. Damnit, they were in perfect position for an ambush! Just yesterday he'd seen smoke from Modoc fires near Schonchin Flow, an easy day's walk to the south. Although several Warm Springs scouts had reassured troop leader captains Thomas and Wright that there'd been no sign of Indians any closer than that, he hadn't stayed alive by trusting others' words.

  All right, he tried to reconcile himself; they'd sweep through the small valley and quickly climb back out of it, barefoot if that's what it called for. No harm done. No presenting themselves as sitting ducks. Only, from what his dealings with Thomas and Wright had already taught him, the two young officers resented anything that sounded like criticism of their so-called leadership.

  Hadn't the Modocs proven time and time again that they were a worthy foe? To discount them this way—to ignore his repeated warnings and do something this stupid—

  When Jed spotted Captain Thomas and three others scrambling up an outcropping, he took a more relaxed breath. Obviously, Thomas was going to signal back to Colonel Gillem's camp, which was only a mile and a half to the north. If there were Modocs around, surely they'd understand that the larger army force was within easy reach.

  Captain Wright, a piece of hardtack clamped between his teeth, was directing two of his men to climb the little ridge to the east. Jed started toward Wright. He'd just opened his mouth to berate Wright for the location he'd chosen for the noon break when he caught movement at the top of the ridge. The sun glinted off something.

  "Ambush!" His cry of alarm was swallowed by the sound of two shots. The two climbers spun around and began running down the hill, as did Thomas and those with him. The Modocs were far enough away that Jed wasn't surprised when they missed. Just the same, an awful coldness seeped into his veins. There were natural rock fortifications on all sides at the top of the ravine. If the Modocs had wanted to trap the army, they couldn't have picked a more perfect site.

  "Stop!" he yelled at Captain Thomas. It was vital that they get word of an impending attack to Gillem's troops. Although his shout caught Thomas's attention, the man shook his head violently and continued scrambling downward. Jed started climbing, but he'd gone only a few feet when he realized he'd never be able to reach the top before the Modocs stopped him.

  He spun back around, cursing at the sight of the many soldiers not fortifying themselves behind rocks, but running for their lives. Most of them seemed determined to head back the way they'd come. Others simply ran aimlessly, rifles all but forgotten, while they stared up at where more and more Modocs were appearing.

  Hurrying to where Thomas and Wright now stood, he yelled at them to gather what troops they could for an assault on the nearest Indians. His explanation was simple and hard-spoken. If they could distract the Modocs long enough, some of the soldiers might manage to escape and bring back help. Although obviously frightened, Thomas bellowed at his men to follow his lead, but only a few obeyed.

  Wright managed to gather more men around him, but the moment he started toward the ridge, the Indians emptied their rifles at them. Jed yelled that it would take several seconds for the Modocs to reload, time enough for the soldiers to reach the top. His suggestion was ignored. Instead, almost as one, the men hugged the ground, some crying out in fear.

  Jed was wildly looking around for the mules carrying the extra ammunition when he saw Captain Wright clutch his chest and fall. Wright had barely hit the ground when his followers turned tail and ran.

  Jed yelled for the men to stop and find cover, but there was so much noise that only those closest to him could hear. Tense with more than a little fear, Jed dove for the nearest boulder. He had his rifle and a fair amount of ammunition, but if he was to have a half chance at hitting one of the Modocs, he would have to step out into the open.

  Closer and closer the Indians came, their progress almost leisurely, their bullets finding one human target after another until Jed felt sickened by the sound of screaming men. Thanks to the endless lava outcroppings, only rarely did one of the Modocs expose himself. When they weren't shooting, they yelled insults at the helpless soldiers.

  Ambush! The word slammed him into the past. But he didn't dare stay there. Captain Wright hadn't moved; Jed vowed to break the news of her husband's death as gently as possible to the captain's young wife.

  The scent of fear far overshadowed the other smells of battle. Everywhere around him, wounded men cried for help. He was forced to admire the Modoc who had masterminded this attack. They'd waited until their enemy had boxed themselves in, just as had happened at Fort Phil Kearny.

  When memories of that other time threatened to swamp him, he forced them away by taking close note of what he could see of his surroundings. The Modocs, although still firing, had stopped advancing; obviously they believed themselves to be in control. They were right. The sight of their wounded or dead companions, sprawled where they'd fallen, had stripped the young recruits of what little courage they'd had.

  Damnit, he'd tried to warn Colonel Gillem and captains Wright and Thomas that the men under them couldn't be counted on to remember what little training they'd had if they found themselves in a confrontation with the Modocs. His warnings had fallen on deaf ears. The men were proud and brave soldiers, he'd been told. They were committed to clearing the land of savages, and wouldn't give up until the job was done.

  Well, Gillem and the others had been wrong. The men trapped around him were little more than scared kids, shooting wildly at nothing or desperately trying to protect themselves
behind whatever barrier they could find.

  Some had managed to escape when the shooting began. Jed concentrated on that. As soon as they reached Gillem's camp, reinforcements would be sent out.

  But six years ago, when eighty good men had been cut down, help hadn't come until it was too late for anyone except him.

  * * *

  Night fell. The shooting stopped. Grateful for the darkness, which allowed him the freedom to move about, Jed left where he'd spent too many cramped hours and crawled among the sprawled bodies, the journey taking a long time because the soldiers were widely spread. The moment he touched Captain Wright, Jed knew the young soldier was beyond help. The same was true for Captain Thomas.

  For a moment he couldn't do anything except crouch beside Captain Thomas as grief overwhelmed him. He didn't want to care; hadn't he spent years without close ties to anyone—except Wilfred—so he wouldn't have to feel the awful wrench of loss? He'd barely known Thomas; his death shouldn't make Jed question the reason for his own existence.

  A groan to his left distracted him. He cut his hand getting to the man because in the dark he couldn't see the sharp rocks. The soldier, a kid really, had been shot in the thigh and had lost so much blood that he was barely conscious. Still, even when his head lolled to one side, he continued to clutch Jed with vice-like fingers.

  Jed spent hours beside him, talking when it seemed that the kid needed to hear the sound of a human voice, simply holding and rocking him when nightmares made him shriek in terror.

  Throughout the endless night, he fought to keep his mind in a nothing place where emotion couldn't reach him, but failed dismally. It was more than trying to comfort a frightened teenager. At the edge of his thoughts, constantly invading, was Luash. He wanted to hate her. Damnation, he wanted to condemn her and the rest of her people to the hell he no longer believed in.

  But he'd been inside the cold, dark cave where she'd spent her winter. She'd been just as trapped as he was tonight; maybe she'd fought the same nightmares.

  "They'll be here by morning," he tried to reassure the boy, who'd told Jed his name was William. "The rest of the troops. If the Modocs are still around, they'll chase them away."

  "No, they won't. They're everywhere. Savages. Don't—please don't let them scalp me!"

  "I promise," Jed said, touching the hilt of his knife. If the unthinkable happened and the Modocs returned to finish the job they'd begun, he would make sure William never knew what they did to him.

  It was getting colder, both sky and earth seeming to have lost all warmth. Whimpering, William burrowed close to him, but although he did everything he could to keep the kid warm, there simply wasn't enough cover here to cut the wind. In the absolute darkness, Jed didn't dare try to move him.

  Wind. Not the icy blasts of winter, but mind and body numbing just the same. Jed began shivering, and although he lay down beside William so they could share their warmth, it made little difference. The night went on forever, a monstrosity of fitful sleep, violent shivers, William crying, clawing fear spreading from the other trapped men to lap at Jed until he couldn't remember being anywhere else or feeling any emotion other than hatred.

  Hatred. It was back, as strong as it had been when he'd realized what the Sioux had done all those years ago. It fed him, allowed him to survive the horrific night filled with sobs and curses and prayers and terror that the Modocs might attack again as soon as night surrendered to day.

  Day. Please, let it be day.

  "Morning's coming, William," he crooned when it seemed that the night had gone on forever. "Hang on just a little while longer. Colonel Gillem's troops have to be on the way."

  Damnit, where were they? Surely someone had escaped the ambush and made his way to the larger force, hours and hours ago. There was no excuse, no excuse at all to put these boys through this hell. "Stay with me. Just stay with me. You're going to be all right. All right."

  William didn't answer. Finally life had seeped out of his young body, and he sagged against Jed, who clutched him to his chest and cried bitter tears.

  * * *

  Three days after the attack on the men who'd sought to capture and kill them, Luash climbed down into the small valley and stepped onto the abandoned battlefield. The smell of blood, fear, and death still permeated the air, making her wonder if even another winter storm would kill the stench, the memories.

  Jed had been here. She hadn't seen him, because Cho-Cho and Kientpoos had ordered her to remain back, away from where the warriors had positioned themselves. As dusk had started to fall, Kientpoos had come to her and told her he'd spotted the lieutenant crouched beside a fallen officer. No, Kientpoos had said, he didn't think Jed had been shot. Why did that matter so much to her, he pushed. After everything that had happen between their people, could there still be thunder and lightning between her and Jed?

  She hadn't answered, but her eyes must have given her away, because Kientpoos hadn't said anything after that. If her uncle knew where she was now, he would insist she was risking losing Eagle's power by coming to the place of their enemies' death.

  She wasn't. Eagle was strong inside her, giving her the courage to stand where men had spilled their blood and cursed her and the rest of her people.

  Jed didn't have Eagle, didn't have faith in his people's god, she thought as she dug her moccasins in the sand and stared up at the walls ahead and on both sides of her. What had it been like for him to crouch here, knowing he was trapped?

  Had his curses joined those of the others?

  Had he known fear so strong that it stripped him of the ability to think and move? Jed had told her how little he valued his own life. Death, he'd said, would simply end days and nights without true meaning.

  But they'd stood hand in hand, kissed and embraced, made love. Had their lovemaking changed him, made him feel more alive? Shown him that living could be a wonderful thing?

  The army men had spent the night trapped here. The next day, finally, soldiers sent from the main army camp had found them, but Cho-Cho, who'd stayed behind to watch, had told her there'd been no doctors among the rescuers and only a handful had risked their lives to come after those whose legs couldn't take them to safety. Night had fallen again while the rescuers were readying the wounded for the journey back to camp.

  It had snowed that second night, dark clouds playing a sick joke on the strangers to the Land of Burned Out fires. Luash had found a small cave to hide in, but unless Jed had left the wounded behind, he'd spent the night at the storm's mercy.

  Two nights of fear and cold and hunger. Two days of waiting for attack, burying the dead, and trying to help those who cried in pain and fear.

  Although she could only guess that Jed was in one of those distant tents, the hatred he'd unleashed against her people swirled around her like a living force.

  "I cannot help what you feel," she whispered, "what is in your heart." She imagined the words rising into the air, drifting out over the dark and seemingly endless lava, reaching Jed. "I cannot change you, just as you cannot change me."

  Her voice belonged to a stranger. She vowed not to say anything more. This was a place of death, of hastily dug graves and discarded weapons and even a dead horse.

  Why had she come here? She should be with Whe-cha, who wept because her husband had become a stranger to her. There hadn't been enough food since they left the stronghold; she should be digging for roots.

  But Jed had endured two nights more horrible than she could imagine, and she couldn't stop thinking about that. Despite her sense of horror, she forced herself to walk the same ground he had. Maybe she was here because this was where she hoped to find that compassion and understanding had become part of him, that he realized her people had attacked his because the Modocs clung to hopes of survival and the only way they knew to do that was by stopping the army.

  Head throbbing, she clamped her hand against her forehead and fought tears. She had never wanted anything except to be Modoc. Maybe that was why Eagle had
come to her, because he had seen her pure heart and understood why it beat. And yet she'd fallen in love—no. Not love. But she had been touched by an army man whose hatred of what she stood for went deeper than the deepest cave. She'd sensed what was good about him. She'd given herself to him, body and heart. And he'd done the same. That she believed.

  The battlefield wasn't deserted after all. Realization of that came slowly but steadily, like fog drifting up from a lake. Still, she wasn't afraid, felt no need to run.

  He was here.

  The spring storm lingered in the air. She wore a blanket over the hide dress he'd taken off her the other day. Maybe he wouldn't recognize her.

  No. She'd heard Eagle's cry this morning; she was strong.

  "Jed," she called out, "I am alone."

  For several minutes, there was only the sound of the hawks who made their homes in the distant buttes. Then he showed himself bit by bit, a shadow slowly separating itself from other shadows. As happened too many times when she thought of him, she shivered a little. The death-place continued to exert its powerful influence, but she managed to keep it from overwhelming her by not taking her eyes off him.

  He was armed, a pistol at his side, a rifle held in his hands. His uniform was dirty and torn in several places, and the wind had chased his hair until it massed around his head like a bird's nest. His chin was blurred by unshaven stubble, but it was his eyes that caught and held her.

  They were no longer gray. They'd been touched by night and what he'd experienced since they'd last seen each other. "You shouldn't be here," he said when he drew close to her.

  "Neither should you."

  "I had to come back." He took a few more steps, his boots making soft thudding sounds on the hard ground. "It's called facing one's demons."

  "Why? The others did not."

  "They're kids, Luash. Most of them, anyway. That's what your men killed. Boys."

  "Your men chase women and children. Cut us off from water and force us to leave our only home."