By midnight the biting winds fell away and left the air brisk and invigorating. The sky was clear and a bright silver moon lit the cold, bleak landscape. Boone and Stewart took advantage of the light to ride fast, putting many miles behind them. They wasted no time covering their tracks. Only distance counted now. When the Shawnees woke at dawn, they would know the pair had a good six or seven hours head start. They would have to be good and mad to halt their trip north to take up a chase that could last for days and still yield them nothing.
Boone called a halt to rest the horses only twice during the night, and each stop lasted no more than six or seven minutes. He kept the pace hard, driving himself, Stewart and their mounts to their limit. Finally, when the sun came up over the hills, he pulled his horse to a stop and sprawled out on the ground.
“By God, we did it!” he laughed. “We did it and got clean away, John. We ain’t licked yet!”
Even Stewart was in high spirits as he limped wearily over to Daniel and leaned down to tighten a loose thong on his moccasin. “You think they’ll follow or leave us alone? We’re pretty far ahead of ’em.”
“Can’t tell for sure, but my guess is they’ll call it a day. They got everythin’ we own, and we sure ain’t hurt their pride much takin’ back a few horses. The Captain will be anxious to get his booty back to the Ohio, where he can show off his.…” Daniel stopped and put his ear quickly to the ground. “Oh, Great Jesus!” he groaned.
Stewart’s grin faded. He jerked up, stared past Daniel’s shoulder and went white. Captain Will and his warriors topped the crest of the hill and thundered down upon them. Daniel came to his feet and grabbed for his reins, but a Shawnee pony hit him hard and sent him sprawling. The Indians yelped and pranced about in a circle, their horses churning up the dirt. Captain Will reined in and looked down at Boone, his features set in a stern, angry mask. Daniel faced him squarely, ignoring the half dozen weapons jabbing at his face.
Suddenly, the Indian’s dark features split into a smile, and Captain Will threw back his head and laughed. “Wide Mouth, you are very hard to say good-bye to. Did you miss your Shawnee brothers? Is this why we see your white face again?” He shook his head sadly, like a father chiding his son. “First a stealer of skins, and now a stealer of horses. You try your brother’s patience, Boone!”
Will turned his head and barked a harsh command. A brave beside him screeched like a hawk and sprang to the ground. In seconds, every Shawnee in the band had spilled from his horse and crowded around Daniel and Stewart. The Indians pushed them roughly to the earth and lashed out viciously with their feet. Daniel fought back, but quickly went under. Stewart yelled and an Indian stilled him with the side of his tomahawk. A hand grasped Daniel’s hair and jerked his neck back. Something tight cut into his throat and shut off his air.
Good God, he thought in terror, they’re going to scalp me and strangle me both!
Then, as quickly as it had begun, the fracas was over. Boone dragged himself up onto all fours and shook his head. Bells seemed to tinkle in his ears. The Shawnees howled with laughter and made sounds like horses. Daniel reached up to touch his throat and felt the horse bells tied there. Anger started in his belly and he jerked up, feeling his face flush hot.
“Goddamn it, Will! You gone too far now and—ugh!” A rifle butt hit him solidly in the back and sent him sprawling. Captain Will kicked his pony and trotted up close. Daniel jerked his hands away from the dancing hooves.
“Stay down, Boone,” Will said harshly. “Horses do not stand like men. They gallop about on their hooves. They kick their feet in the air and shake their heads from side to side. Let us see how good a horse you can be, Wide Mouth.”
“In a pig’s eye, brother!” The rifle butt hit him again, splitting his face and nearly busting his jaw. Daniel coughed and spit blood. “Will, this ain’t no way to treat an enemy you give honor to, much less a friend.”
“You are right,” Will said stiffly. “But where is this man of honor?” He craned his neck from side to side, making a show of searching the hills. “I am sorry, Wide Mouth. Your eyes are clearly sharper than mine. I see no one here but horse thieves. Not even thieves. Only horses. Do you think you can be a good horse, Boone? I ask you again.”
Daniel glared and turned away from him. He knew he had to do it, just like Will wanted. If he balked again, Will would kill him. Maybe the Indian didn’t want to, but he would have no choice.
Daniel couldn’t remember a greater humiliation. He pranced about the ground and kicked up his heels until his limbs ached. He shook his head to make the bells ring, and pawed the air like a wild pony. The Shawnees doubled up with laughter. The great Boone Wide Mouth and his friend made fine horses. They were as good as any horses the Indians had ever seen! Daniel didn’t look at Stewart, as he was sure Stewart wouldn’t look at him. That was something, anyway. They didn’t have to see each other make damn fools of themselves.
When the Shawnees finally let them stop, Daniel was too tired to stand. Stewart lay sprawled nearby, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. The Indians crowded around like taunting schoolboys and pulled them to their feet, shouting with glee and pounding their prisoners on the back. Then the same brave who had nearly fractured Daniel’s skull embraced him like a brother and thrust water and jerky in his hands. Another took his own metal armpiece and clasped it over Boone’s wrist. Finally, the Indians grew so pleased with the pair that they set them on the same horses they had stolen and let them ride back to the encampment in style.
Goddamn Indians, Boone thought darkly. Don’t make any sense at all, even when you’re sure you’ve got ’em figured.
Captain Will said nothing the rest of the day or that night. When the party started off the next morning, however, Daniel and Stewart were taken along. Daniel had been afraid of this since their first capture. The Shawnees had shown great patience in letting them live, but he was certain they had no intention of letting them go again.
To Daniel’s great surprise, Will assured him this wasn’t so. “You will have to go north with your Shawnee brothers, Wide Mouth, at least for a while. I freed you once, but you have shown you are not a man of reason. I am sorry this is so. In a few days, we will reach the Ohio and speak again. If wisdom has touched your head and you seem to be more a man than a horse, perhaps you will again see your home.” His stern mouth eased into a grin. “If this comes about, brother, you will walk away on two legs. But you will not leave Captain Will again on a Shawnee pony!”
“Dan’l,” Stewart asked later, “you believe that Injun or not? I sure as hell can’t see him givin’ us no big farewell party at the river. Them Shawnees get us that far, they’re goin’ to take us all the way, and that’s the God’s truth!”
“Maybe, and maybe not,” Daniel remarked thoughtfully. “You know as well as I do that Indians got a whole lot more patience than most whites. Look what they let us get away with already.” Daniel shook his head. “Hell’s fire—I would’ve shot us dead a week ago, John.”
Still, the more he thought about it, the more he agreed with Stewart’s conclusions. Captain Will had been patient. He had been firm and hard only when he had to. Only, they couldn’t really know what Will was planning until he did it. Daniel still wanted to believe the Indians would let them go. But if he guessed wrong, he and Stewart would be playing horsey for Shawnee children for a long time to come.
“I don’t like it,” he told Stewart finally. “I’m startin’ to get itchy, and we’re a long damn way from Station Camp.”
Stewart gave him a pained look. They were close to four days from where they had stolen the Shawnee horses. The land was flattening out and the nights were getting colder. The Indians were riding steadily northeast through country neither he nor Boone had ever seen before.
“This just sorta come on you, Dan’l, or you been chewin’ on it? I mean that’s all I been sayin’—we’re almost to the goddamn Ohio!”
“I know it, and right here’s ’bout as close as I figure
on getting.”
“You talked to Captain Will about this?”
Daniel grinned. “Naw, I figure we already said good-bye ’bout as much as we need to.”
Stewart started to speak, then pressed his lips tight. He glanced over at their ponies, all roped together. There were Shawnee braves ahead and behind. As always, three rifles were steadied on their backs. Boone grinned at Stewart’s sour look.
Daniel said nothing more on the subject but he was keeping his eyes open. The next day, the trail snaked down to a broad, shallow river. Daniel figured that the Ohio lay just beyond the hills, past the grey and wintry horizon.
But it was an area along the south bank of the river that interested Daniel more. Around noon, the first patches of cane appeared. An hour later, a vast canebrake stretched out past the river as far as the eye could see. It grew right up to the Shawnees’ trail, towering twelve or fifteen feet above the ground. Daniel guessed it might run ten or twenty miles to the west. He had seen more than one that size in Kentucky.
When the Shawnees made camp that evening, Daniel finished his supper and laid back easily, waiting till the Indians settled down. Finally, when the fire burned low, he spoke softly to Stewart. “John, don’t look ’round or anythin’, just listen. It’s about time for us to go.”
“Huh?” Stewart sat up straight.
“Relax, damn it!”
“Dan’l, I don’t know what the hell you got in mind, but.…”
“I got in mind to grab a couple of them rifles stacked by that cottonwood and then to take a stroll into that cane. You ready?”
“You mean now?”
“Hell yes, now. You got somethin’ more interestin’ to do?” Daniel didn’t wait for an answer. The Shawnees were drowsing by the fire. Springing to his feet he bounded for the tree, grabbed two rifles and crashed into the cane. Stewart, cursing Boone’s hide with every name he could think of, stumbled along behind. The Shawnees began yelping and whooping their war cries, drowning out Stewart’s voice. Daniel, laughing so hard that his sides hurt, ran blindly on through the thick forest of cane stalks.
Chapter Fifteen
James hefted the pack onto his shoulders and headed down river. The sky was clear and blue with only the ragged tails of clouds floating off to the north. Cold still settled in the hollows, but it felt almost warm in the open—not bad, James thought, for the last day of December. With luck, the weather might hold till he reached the Yadkin. Counting off the miles in his head, James decided he’d make it right before dark, even carrying the deer.
The thought of home brought to his mind a flurry of pictures—his own bed, Ma, his brothers and sisters all about, a fine stew bubbling in the fireplace. The thoughts warmed him, and he quickened his step. Except that, when he considered for a moment, he wasn’t nearly as eager to get back as he might have been. Now how could that be? he wondered. Of course he wanted to get home! And as quickly as he could. Everybody was supposed to feel that way.
The words came to him unbidden, and with them came a hot flush of shame. It was happening again— thoughts coming out of nowhere, and most of them bad thoughts, too. It scared him sometimes, because it felt like there was someone else inside, and not him at all.
Lately he had decided that maybe he was just growing up. Strange things were happening in him, for sure, things he couldn’t tell anybody, not even Israel. Whatever it was, he hoped it would go away soon. He was getting mighty sick of feeling bad about everything. Why, he hadn’t even liked Christmas! You had to be plain crazy to think like that! It hadn’t been a bad day or anything. It just didn’t seem like Christmas. Ma had been feeling poorly after giving birth to his new baby brother just two days before, but there was a present for everyone, and fresh pheasant and hot pies. Still it hadn’t thrilled him as it used to. Maybe he was growing out of holidays, too.
Hauling the buck tired him out more than he had figured it would. By late afternoon he decided to camp another night and to go on in the morning. Ma wouldn’t worry—she wasn’t expecting him this soon.
As always, before bedding down, he packed his rifle the way his pa had taught hum A patch of linsey went over the muzzle to keep bugs out, even if there weren’t many of the critters about at this time of year. He made certain his powder horn and bullet pouch were tied securely to his belt. Finally, he inspected the flash pan carefully, then covered it with doeskin to keep out the dew
Just before he set the rifle aside, James absently ran his fingers over the stock. Then in a sudden flood of anger and shame he jerked his hand away. Jesus God, it happened again and again and again, and he couldn’t stop it! No matter how hard he tried! He had to go and handle that stock with the wrong touch and the wrong thoughts. Now God might make all the bad things he had thought about Pa come true. He would die out there in Kentucky, and James would be the cause of it.
There wasn’t anything wrong with the new stock. Pa had carved it out good, and it fit just fine. It didn’t look like the old stock, the dark and oily wood that came with the rifle off the shelf…. It was just as good, though—it was! It truly was!
“You ought to be real proud, boy. This rifle cracked the hell out of a Shawnee skull. Saved my life and your ma’s, too. We’d be meat for ol’ Flint if I hadn’t had it near!”
James remembered his father’s words and broad grin. But more than that, he remembered seeing the rifle broken. He remembered how he had just sat there, staring at the ugly thing in his father’s hands. Brand-spanking-new only the day before, now it was ugly, cracked and split off at the breech. It didn’t even look like his rifle anymore. It looked like a long piece of iron with an open, bloody wound on the stub. He had not even wanted to touch it!
I never even fired it new, he thought as he lay in his bedroll, not at a deer or anything. Not before you broke it. It was mine to have and you took it and went after Ma without me. After we shook hands and everything, too! Like I was a man. Only I’m not, and you lied to say I was. I’m a boy or you would have taken me and not just my rifle! I don’t want to be here and take care of Ma anymore. You hear me? That’s what you’re supposed to do! Goddamn you! I hope you die and don’t ever come back!
The tears racked his body and tightened his throat until he could hardly breathe. He pounded his fists on the ground until they bled, until he could no longer feel the pain.
Oh, dear God, I don’t mean it and you know that! Don’t listen to anything I say! I love you, Pa. I truly do! Don’t let anything happen to him, God. Please don’t let anything happen to him.
Chapter Sixteen
Daniel was greatly pleased with himself for outfoxing Captain Will. As he had figured they would, the Shawnees had wasted precious minutes covering their mounts, giving the pair the time they needed to lose themselves in the cane. The Indians yelled and thrashed about, but tracking men in a canebrake was like hunting the only two fleas on a horse. Finally, after making gruff noises and threats for the entire night and half the next day, Captain Will gave up and rode on.
Stewart had the shakes halfway back to Station Camp and grumbled continually. “You scared the hell out of me,” he muttered darkly, “just pure scared the hell out of me. That was a damn fool stunt, and you know it!”
“Yeah, sure was,” Daniel agreed.
“Well, what if we’d got caught? What do you think he’d have done to us then?”
“We didn’t get caught, John. I thought you’d have noticed by now.”
“Lord. He’d have scalped us for sure.”
“Might have.”
“Well, goddamn it, Dan’l. I mean—well, goddamn!”
Daniel laughed and shook his head. His thoughts were already a mile down the trail at Station Camp. Blue Duck would be there, waiting for him. He could still feel the heat of her, the taste and smell of her skin. The girl had a hunger as great as his own, and no shame at all about showing it. Lord, she was a fine one! Just thinking about her stirred his loins and quickened his step.
“We’d best take the gi
rl and move right on,” he told Stewart. “Captain Will ain’t comin’ back, but I don’t like the idea of stayin’ the night there anymore. The place is gettin’ kinda tattered.”
Stewart nodded. Station Camp was just beyond the draw now, past the shallow ridge of rock and into the trees. “How far you think Findley went? Reckon we’ll be able to catch up?”
Daniel gave him a dark look. “He’s likely in England or France by now, the way he was movin’. That son of a bitch sure lit out like a rabbit!”
“You’re hittin’ the man hard, Dan’l. You know that.”
Daniel turned on him, his face like stone. “By God, John, how hard did that Injun hit you? Some of them skins was yours, son!”
“Yeah, you’re right as you can be. I just....”
“Just nothin’,” Daniel snapped. “You kiss that jackass on the cheek when you see him, but I’m damned if I will.” Boone turned and stomped heavily down through the draw.
There was no wind. A wisp of smoke near as straight as a rule curled up to the bare branches over Station Camp. Daniel paused under a tall ash, then walked quietly into the clearing. The girl was gone, out gathering wood, maybe, or bringing up water. He motioned Stewart to stay where he was.
“Blue Duck?” Daniel stopped, sweeping his eyes over the clearing. “Blue Duck, you here?” he said softly. A motion caught his eye. He jerked around and saw the buffalo robe under a tree. He hesitated, then grinned and walked toward her.
“You sure are one lazy Cherokee gal, sleepin’ in the middle of the.…” He pulled the robe aside. Her wide, frightened eyes stared up at him. A cry stuck in his throat. Right away he saw the gag in her mouth, the tight cords about her arms and legs and the welts and dried blood steaking her naked body. He threw himself away from her, shouted to Stewart and came up running. Stewart’s gun shattered the silence. The Shawnee came at Daniel’s left. Boone turned and fired blindly, knew he had missed and never heard the Indian behind him. The blow glanced off his head, numbed his shoulder and brought him to the ground.
Daniel Boone: Westward Trail Page 11
