The Soul Survivors Series Boxed Set

by Vella Munn

  "What are you doing here?" she demanded. "It's dangerous. So dangerous."

  "I know."

  "Then why—"

  "Wolf."

  Her hand now flattened against her chest, she stepped back. "Wolf," she repeated.

  "His spirit came to me, whispered of great risk."

  "But you came anyway. Why?"

  "You."

  Sucking in her breath, she reached out as if to touch him; then her arm dropped by her side and, in a voice choked with emotion, she told him everything that had happened that day.

  "You are leaving with him?" he asked.

  "I can't stay here."

  "Lucita," her mother said anxiously. "You know him, don't you? Your father was right about that. How long—what—I do not believe this."

  If Lucita wanted to explain, she would have to do it another time, because he'd already been here longer than was safe. "Go then," Black Wolf said. "Leave with that man, now."

  Emotion rolled out of her, a wave of heat and feeling he didn't understand but couldn't ignore. "I can't," she managed.

  Because of me?

  "Not without Yucca," she said before he could ask the question that should only be between the two of them.

  "Forget Yucca," Pablo said. "Lucita, you cannot help anyone except yourself."

  "No. I—"

  "Who is Yucca?" Black Wolf interrupted.

  She told him with a minimum of words, but that didn't blunt his reaction. "He is with Father Patricio?" he forced himself to ask.

  "Yes."

  Yucca might be safe tonight, but as long as the boy remained with Father Patricio he was at risk, something Black Wolf knew all too well. "Stay here," he commanded. "I will free him."

  "No!" Lucita grabbed his wrist, the touch sending lightning through him. "Black Wolf, if something happened to you..."

  Covering her hand with his, he looked down at her. "Wolf walks at my side. The child belongs with me."

  * * *

  Black Wolf hadn't been inside the padres' private quarters since Lame Deer rescued him and had believed he would never again feel those hated walls close around him, but just as his grandfather had risked everything for him, he would do the same for Yucca.

  After leaving the others, he'd made his way to the small, solid building. Now, although a part of him remained with Lucita, he concentrated on what had to be done. Lucita would leave with Pablo and be safe with him; the man had been urging her to get on one of the horses. Her mother, crying now, had been saying the same thing. As for Lucita, she'd held onto his arm until he pulled free but said nothing.

  He had no words for her either, just the prayer that she would find happiness in the world of her birth.

  The arched door to where the padres lived was closed and might be locked from the inside, but its greatest weakness was in the leather hinges. Using the knife that had so recently been at Pablo's neck, Black Wolf sliced through what he could reach of the leather and then stepped back.

  He would have only a few seconds in which to act, sudden attack followed by grabbing the child and running. Maybe, if Wolfs strength was in his hand, his knife would find Father Patricio's throat, and although killing the padre might spell his doom and maybe the end to everything his people still had, he wanted to watch the man die.

  There wasn't time to think of death, only time for action.

  When he shoved, his shoulder encountered more resistance than he'd expected, but he continued to push, his feet digging into the earth. Finally the barrier gave way and the door crashed to the ground, nearly taking him with it.

  Father Patricio had been sitting at his table, a candle spilling light onto an open Bible, but he'd already sprung to his feet by the time Black Wolf entered. The priest's mouth, opened in disbelief, revealed yellowed teeth. Yucca, kneeling in front of the padre, looked just as shocked.

  "Yucca!" Black Wolf ordered. "Come. Now."

  The boy's head jerked back as if he'd been slapped, but before Black Wolf had to repeat himself, he stood. Lucita had said that Father Patricio had tied the boy's hands, but he was free now. Yucca took a hesitant step toward Black Wolf, then looked back at Father Patricio.

  "Black Wolf." The padre's eyes glittered with candle-red highlights. "What are you—"

  "No more!"

  Although the collapsing door had made enough noise that surely everyone at the mission had heard, these few seconds with Father Patricio had to be. His knife in his upraised hand, Black Wolf started toward the other man, who reacted by grabbing the Bible and clutching it to his chest.

  "You call yourself a man of god?" Black Wolf asked. "There is evil in you. No savage would do what you do. You call yourself civilized. I call you Devil."

  "Go away. My God, go away."

  It would take so little to free Father Patricio's blood from his veins; just a quick, hard slice of the knife and Black Wolf could forget what he'd endured at the man's hands.

  "Devil," he repeated.

  "Help!" Father Patricio screeched. "Help!"

  The hot smell of urine reached Black Wolf, and from Yucca's reaction he knew the boy had noticed it as well. A quick lunge, knife blade against flesh, and the smell of blood would fill the room.

  "Help! Help!"

  "Black Wolf!" Lucita screamed from behind him. "Run!"

  Chapter 28

  Reaching out with his free hand, Black Wolf grabbed Yucca's arm and pulled him close, then turned and ran. Yucca stumbled over the collapsed door, but Black Wolf held on, and in a couple of seconds the boy had regained his balance.

  Despite the dark, Black Wolf was able to make out several figures running toward them from the leatherjackets' barracks. Instinct said that safety lay in putting the mission behind him, but it was no longer that simple.

  Changing direction, he sprinted toward Lucita, dragging Yucca behind him, because she had yelled out a warning and he couldn't leave without acknowledging what she'd done.

  "Black Wolf, please!" she grasped. "Leave! Take him and go!"

  "Come with me."

  A heartbeat passed and then she took a half-step toward him; he sensed the emotion behind her movement and felt his heart swell.

  "What is it?" Sebastian bellowed from somewhere behind him.

  "What is happening?"

  "Black Wolf!" Father Patricio screamed. "He tried to kill me!"

  "Did you?" Lucita insisted. "Did you?"

  "Yes!"

  The pounding footsteps increased in strength, and despite the disorganized cries, he knew it would only be a matter of seconds before the leatherjackets found him.

  "Come with me," he repeated.

  "Lucita, no!" Voice trembling, the mother locked her arms around her daughter. "He tried to kill—"

  "Get out of here, Black Wolf!" It was Pablo. "Go, now!"

  Black Wolf couldn't touch Lucita without letting go of Yucca or his knife, and he didn't dare do either. Just the same, he felt her along the length of his body and in his heart and prayed it was the same for her. "Lucita?"

  "I can't. Oh, God, I can't!"

  It was over between them. This time he might never understand had ended with her words, and because the name of her God had escaped her lips.

  Whirling, he ran toward the space between the corral and the grain storage shed, no longer needing to hold onto Yucca, whose speed suddenly matched his. Just beyond them darkness and freedom waited. He would be safe there, he and this child who was so much what he'd once been and what his own son would be in a few years. And nothing else mattered.

  Once again Father Patricio cried out, but Black Wolf didn't try to make sense of what the man was saying. Sebastian, sounding too close, cursed, but Black Wolf didn't waste time trying to determine where he was; instead he continued to run. Once again Yucca stumbled and fell, instantly stopping Black Wolf, the child cried out, his high voice telling the leatherjackets where they were.

  "Get up!" Black Wolf insisted. "Run!"

  "My ankle—"

  Lea
ning down, he grabbed Yucca around the waist and hauled him to his feet. "You must!" he ordered. Before he could say another word, he heard a sound like thunder and something hard and hot slammed into his side.

  Yucca screamed.

  Despite the sudden awful burning, Black Wolf felt lightheaded, and his knees threatened to buckle, but if he lost his footing, he would become a deer whose legs had been shredded by a wolfs teeth.

  Wolf, hear me! Give me strength.

  "Run, Yucca," he ordered. "Run for your life!"

  * * *

  Had Black Wolf been shot? Lucita thought she'd seen him stagger immediately after the musket's explosion, but she couldn't make herself face that awful possibility. All that mattered was that by the time her father and the others reached where she'd last seen or thought she'd seen Black Wolf, he and Yucca had fled.

  She couldn't say for sure how much time had passed since then. After milling about for several minutes, two of the soldiers had run back to their quarters and returned with several burning branches, which they used to light the area where Black Wolf and Yucca had last been seen.

  It had been Black Wolf, an excited Father Patricio insisted. The savage had broken into his bedroom, stolen Yucca from him, and certainly would have killed him if Lucita hadn't cried out.

  "You warned him, didn't you?" Her father loomed over her. Even in his stocking feet and his breath smelling of whiskey, he remained a formidable presence. Her mother, who had risked so much by freeing her, stood beside her, as did a remarkably composed Pablo.

  "What do you want me to say?" she asked her father, feeling strangely detached. "You heard me."

  "Oh, yes, I did."

  He'd laid down his musket, but although she believed he wanted nothing more than to strike her, his hands remained fisted at his sides.

  "Do you want me to apologize?" she asked, challenged maybe. "I won't. Nothing you do or say will change what I did. I... I am not sorry."

  "My daughter," he said, his voice cold, "if I had one, would not have made a mockery of her heritage." He seemed about to say more, but perhaps he had remembered how many ears would hear what passed between them. Turning toward his wife, he demanded an explanation.

  "I freed her." Although soft, Margarita's voice carried more conviction than Lucita had ever heard from her. "I will not have her treated like a criminal."

  "You disobeyed me? How dare you!"

  Instinct warned Lucita to do nothing more to incur her father's wrath, but it was too late for that. "Don't blame her," she insisted. "It is me you hate, not her."

  "Hate?" He leaned closer. "Hate! I wish you were dead."

  Pablo, who had said little, stood only a few feet away. She thought he might intercede in her behalf or attempt to calm her father, but he remained a silent and strangely impassive figure.

  Before she could think of what, if anything, to say, one of the soldiers called out that there was something Sebastian needed to see. As he stalked away, Margarita clamped cold fingers around Lucita's shoulder.

  "Go , now. Before—Pablo, please make her..."

  "Yes!" Sebastian cried triumphantly. "I knew I had hit him."

  Black Wolf wounded? Casting caution aside, Lucita rushed over to where her father was staring at the ground. At first she saw nothing, but then someone moved one of the burning brands and she spotted the dark, glistening stain.

  Dropping to her knees, she touched the damp pool with a trembling finger. Her nerve endings recorded a telltale stickiness, and when she brought her finger to her nose she smelled blood.

  She'd known it; buried where she'd hoped she wouldn't have to acknowledge it was the memory of how, for a few seconds, strength had left Black Wolf and he'd come close, too close, to falling.

  "No!"

  Back on her feet now, she struck out, connecting with her father's side. Cursing, he shoved her away, then came after her. Grabbing her, he began to shake her so violently that her head snapped from side to side.

  "Stop it!" Whoever had yelled—she couldn't concentrate on anything except her father's fury—was trying to pull them apart. "Corporal, stop it!"

  "No daughter... no daughter of mine—"

  "My husband, for God's sake, you are killing her!" This from several feet away.

  "God?" Sebastian bellowed. "No! She is the devil's child!"

  Her father's right hand was being ripped off her, his nails tearing through fabric and gouging her flesh. From somewhere deep inside she summoned the strength to fight him herself, kicking and sinking her teeth into his left wrist like the wild animals the padres said the Chumash were. Bellowing, he swung at her. His fist connected with the side of her jaw; her knees buckled, and she fell.

  On hands and knees, she shook her head in a desperate attempt to clear her senses while above her the sounds of a violent struggle, blows and curses, filled the air. Once again her mother screamed, sounding no more civilized than she felt. First one and then both of the horses squealed. Although the world around her refused to come into focus, Lucita forced herself to stand.

  Suddenly the fighting stopped; nothing was left of it except deep and ragged breathing, and by slow degrees she made sense of what had happened. Her father and Pablo had come to blows and blood flowed from each of their noses, but neither looked beaten. Rather, like enraged dogs, they stood glaring at each other while the soldiers, the padres, and her mother looked on.

  Pablo spoke first. "Nothing has changed, Lucita," he said, his tone an island of calm in an insane world. "I still intend to leave tonight. I trust your father has the decency to allow you to collect your belongings so you can accompany me."

  Not speaking or acknowledging her, Sebastian scooped up his musket and started toward the horse corral.

  "What are you doing?" Lucita demanded, although she already knew.

  If Sebastian heard her—and he must have—he gave no indication. "I have no daughter," he had said.

  "Lucita." Pablo spoke softly, his breathing already under control. "It is time to leave."

  "You will take her?" Margarita, crying, asked. "Keep her safe?"

  "I promise."

  Margarita sobbed and made the sign of the cross. "Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you. Lucita?"

  Her father had become one of several shadows touched by torchlight. In a moment he would slip into the corral, select one of the horses, saddle and bridle it, and ride out after Black Wolf and Yucca—Black Wolf who might be dying.

  "Lucita?"

  * * *

  An animal with sharp teeth had clamped its jaws around Black Wolf's side and refused to let go. The pain receded just a little when he didn't breathe or move, but if he gave into the need to do those things, his life would end before morning.

  Yucca had asked him twice about his injury, crying a little when he didn't answer, but after that the boy had fallen silent. As long as they were on level ground, Black Wolf was able to walk unaided, but whenever he tried to climb, his legs turned into those of an old man and he was forced to loop his arm around the boy's shoulder for support.

  His wound had bled profusely at first, but now when he touched it, he found no fresh blood, thanks to the dried grass he'd pressed against his side. As long as he continued to move, strength would remain in him, but if he stopped for any length of time, he might not be able to stand again.

  Wolf had warned him of danger. If he'd been a wise man, he would have heeded the warning and would have never returned to the enemy place, but his heart had beaten with fear for Lucita, and wisdom had turned into frost before a bright sun.

  "Do not leave me, Wolf," he whispered. "Listen to the words of a foolish man and tell me what I must do."

  "Black Wolf," Yucca said anxiously. "Who are you talking to?"

  "My spirit."

  "Your... spirit?"

  Had Yucca been taken so far from his heritage that he didn't know what the word meant? Before Black Wolf could make himself ask the question, the answer came to him in memories of what he'd been like when L
ame Deer brought him back to the people of his birth.

  "I speak of ancient things, Chumash wisdom," he said around the gnawing in his side. "When we are where we belong, I will tell you. Show you."

  "How? The soldiers are following us; you know they are."

  Soldiers, not leatherjackets, but perhaps it was better that today's children spoke a new way. "I know," he said, then stopped and listened. His heart put him in mind of a drum in the hands of an angry child, making it difficult for him to hear anything else, and he asked Yucca to listen with him.

  "Nothing," Yucca said after a while. "Maybe..."

  "Maybe what?"

  "I am not sure. Black Wolf, are we safe out here? Father Patricio said wolves and bears would attack me if I tried to leave."

  "Wolf is my brother. He will not harm you."

  "Your brother—" Yucca started, then stopped.

  In the distance, the morning sun was beginning to make its presence known as a thin band of light and promise from the east Humqaq lay to the west. Humqaq. Home.

  * * *

  Too late.

  Too late.

  Straightening in the saddle, Lucita pressed her hand against the back of her neck in an attempt to work the tension out of her, but even a lungful of air wasn't enough to push the horrible thought from her mind.

  Hours ago, she'd grabbed the horse Pablo had saddled for her and galloped away from the mission, leaving behind her crying mother and a silent, staring Pablo. Lucita had tried to tell herself that her father couldn't possibly care what she did, but the attempt at self-deception didn't last because Sebastian was at his core a soldier and the same drive that had sent her in search of Black Wolf and Yucca ruled him.

  Her father, whom she had to admire despite everything, had hunted down many an enemy over the course of his career. He didn't know which way Black Wolf had gone and that would slow and frustrate him, but he would search until he had the answer. She had no doubt of that.

  If she were Black Wolf and wounded, what would she do and where would she go? Those were the twin questions that had sent her toward the hills, because if nothing except the instinct for survival was left, surely Black Wolf would want to return to his people. The shamans—that was what the Chumash called their healers, wasn't it?—were there, and he needed their care. But even more important, his son was in the village.