The Outcast had two reasons to go after them—they had taken his horse and his captive. A third reason gnawed at him like a beaver at a tree, but he refused to let it take root. He cared for no one but himself. He had lost all feelings for others the day she died.
Or, rather, the day he killed her and their baby.
He relived it in his mind, that terrible event, seared into his memory forever. The day he came back to his lodge to find Mad Wolf there. She had the baby to her bosom and was pleading with Mad Wolf to leave.
For half a dozen moons Mad Wolf tried to win her away. Mad Wolf had more horses and his father was high in the council, and he thought he had the right to any woman he wanted. Mad Wolf wanted Yellow Fox. Mad Wolf didn’t care that she was spoken for. Mad Wolf didn’t care that she had told him over and over that she would never come to live with him.
Mad Wolf kept after her. One fateful day he had dared to enter their lodge and press his suit.
The Outcast had never been so mad. Even now, it made his blood grow hot in his veins. They had heated words, Mad Wolf and he. One angry word led to another, and Mad Wolf reached for his knife.
Without thinking, the Outcast reacted. He drove his lance into Mad Wolf’s body with all the strength in his sinews.
The Outcast hadn’t realized that Yellow Fox had come up behind Mad Wolf. He hadn’t realized his lance went all the way through Mad Wolf and through the baby and into her until she cried out.
It wasn’t one body that fell.
It was three.
It was the day the Outcast died inside. When the elders called him before them, he listened with an empty heart. No Kainai had ever done such a thing. Kainai were never to kill Kainai. To kill a woman and an infant—it was unthinkable. It was bad medicine. With deep regret the council acted for the good of all.
They banished him.
No one came to see him off the day he rode from the village. Those he passed turned their backs to him.
The Outcast wandered. An empty vessel that refused to be filled, he traveled where whim took him. In his sorrow and grief he thought he would never feel again.
He hadn’t, until now.
In grim anger, the Outcast started after the scarred warriors.
They had taken his horse and his captive.
He would have their lives—or they would have his.
Chapter Fourteen
“There.” Star Dancer pointed.
“I see him,” Skin Shredder said.
The breed was after them. As yet he was well down the mountain, but climbing rapidly.
“He will overtake us before the sun goes down.”
“Let him.” Skin Shredder would rise high in the esteem of his people if he brought back two captives instead of one.
Louisa wondered what they were talking about. She was on the pinto a little way ahead in the trees and could not see where they were looking. She hoped against hope that Zach was coming. She refused to believe he was dead. She’d survived the talus; so could he. He was a lot tougher.
The Heart Eaters continued their ascent.
Lou was tempted to try to escape. All she had to do was yank the reins from the hands of the Indian holding them, and use her heels. But with warriors on both sides and the leader and his friends behind, she would be lucky if she got ten feet.
Lou had to do something. Not just for her sake. She had the new life to think of. If something had happened to Zach, she owed it to him to stay alive so she could give birth to his legacy.
Lou put a hand on her belly. It was too soon to feel the baby kick, but she told herself that now and then she felt it move. Her imagination, most likely, but there it was.
Skin Shredder was watching her. He’d noticed how she was constantly putting a hand on her stomach. At first he thought she had been hurt when she was caught in the talus. Then he thought maybe she was sick. Finally he remembered his own women and the one who had just given him a son, and he blurted, “She is with child.”
Splashes Blood looked at him. “Who?”
“How many captives do we have?” Skin Shredder nodded at the white woman. “We must keep her alive until it is born.” Of all the delicacies life offered, of all the delicious kinds of meat, the heart of a baby was the choicest.
“The other Bear People will come after us,” Splashes Blood mentioned.
Skin Shredder knew of whom he spoke—the giant with the black beard and the old man with the white beard. They were dangerous, that pair. “Let them come to our valley. They will never leave it.”
A slope of lodgepole pines was mired in gloom. The slender trees grew in ranks so close together that at times there was barely space for the pinto. Skin Shredder doubted the white woman would try to escape until they were out of them. She could not ride fast with the trees pressing in on her. He relaxed his guard and stopped watching her.
Lou was bubbling with excitement. Here was her chance. She girded herself, and when most of the warriors were looking the other way, she coiled her legs and leaped. Her outstretched hands wrapped around a lodgepole, and with a lithe swing she was on the ground and running. She moved so quickly that she had a five-yard lead before a harsh cry alerted her captors to her flight.
Lou was fleet of foot. She wasn’t as fast as Zach, but he often liked to say that she was a female antelope. In britches, anyway. Dresses slowed her. She poured all she had into her legs and bounded down the mountain in long loping strides. She risked a glance over her shoulder and saw that four of the Heart Eaters were after her. The rest had stayed with the pinto.
Skin Shredder was startled by how fast she was. He was going all out, but he couldn’t gain. Star Dancer, though, was faster, and would catch her before she was out of the lodgepoles.
Heavy breathing and the thud of flying feet warned Lou one of them was almost on top of her. She dared another glance and saw bronzed fingers reaching for the back of her dress. The warrior was intent on her to the exclusion of all else. Inspiration struck, and she ran straight at one of the pines. The warrior’s fingertips brushed her, and he smiled, thinking that he almost had her. He didn’t see the tree until Lou swerved.
Skin Shredder heard the thud of impact. He didn’t stop. He streaked past Star Dancer, who was holding an arm and thrashing about in pain. Now it was up to him.
Lou was pleased with herself. Her little ploy had worked. But now their leader was hard after her, and she didn’t think the same trick would work twice. She started weaving among the slender boles, turning right and left, never running straight for more than a few yards. As she hoped, he lost a little ground.
Skin Shredder fumed. She was clever, this white woman. He settled into a rhythm, pacing himself, conserving his energy for a spurt when his chance came to catch her. And it would. He could run for many leagues without tiring. His stamina was superior to hers, and in the end, it would be her undoing.
An ache in Lou’s side reminded her of how long it had been since she had run any distance. Cabin life had softened her. Add to that her condition, and it was small wonder that soon she was panting and her legs pained in protest at their abuse.
Lou refused to stop. She would never give up, not so long as she had breath in her body. She weaved right, ducked under a limb, weaved left and had her cheek opened. A branch snatched her dress and broke.
Skin Shredder admired her tenacity. She was so slight and frail that he would not have thought she had it in her.
The lodgepoles were almost at an end. Below was a slope sprinkled with spruce.
Lou must do something to slow Skin Shredder, but what? The breaking of the limb gave her an idea. She deliberately ran at another and snapped it off without breaking stride. Then, twisting, she threw the branch at his face.
Skin Shredder was caught by surprise. It was so unexpected, and she was so quick, that he swerved aside a fraction too late. The branch slashed his temple, missing his eye by a finger’s width. He slowed, and she increased her lead.
Skin Shredder smile
d. She was a firebrand, this small one. It was too bad she must die. She had the kind of spirit he liked in his wives.
Lou was glad she had slowed him down but she was only delaying the inevitable. She would run out of tricks and energy and the warriors would be on her. She imagined they would be mad, imagined them hitting and kicking her. A beating might cost her the baby. Added incentive for her to make her feet fly.
Lou was running so fast, the trees were a blur. She burst from the lodgepoles. A boulder filled her vision and she swept around it. On the other side was a badger mound and a badger hole. She willed her body to jump but she was not quite quick enough.
Her left foot went into the hole, and down she crashed.
Zach King pushed the bay harder than he had ever ridden it. He lashed the reins and used his heels and climbed as fast as the terrain permitted. The steep slopes chafed at his patience. His temper, held in check by a thin veneer of self-control, snapped. The more he thought about what Lou had gone through—first abducted by the Blood and now the Heart Eaters—the angrier he became.
Zach was in the grip of bloodlust. It made him think of when he was younger, when he lived for counting coup. He hadn’t felt this way in many a moon, and it felt good to be his old self again.
He was eager for a glimpse of Lou and her captors. He had checked the Hawken and his remaining pistol. His knife was razor sharp. His tomahawk had a keen edge. He craved the coming fight as a drunk craved a drink or a person with a sweet tooth craved pies and cakes.
Whenever he came to a gap in the trees Zach rose in the stirrups and scanned the higher slopes. He figured the Heart Eaters were making for their secret pass over the top of the range. After he dealt with them and got Lou safely back home, he would take a keg of black powder and ensure the Heart Eaters never again invaded King Valley.
Better yet, Zach would like to find their village. Two or three kegs should suffice to blow the tribe to the white man’s kingdom come—or enough of them that the few left would retreat deeper into the mountains and cease to be a threat to his loved ones or anyone else.
That had been one of life’s hardest lessons. His father and mother were such good people, and they had raised him with so much kindness and love, that when he was little he took it for granted that everyone else was the same. It had come as a shock to discover that a lot of people weren’t kind or loving—that they were, in fact, anything but. A lot of folks didn’t care about anything except themselves. Even worse, some people, red and white, lived to hurt others. They relished the pain they inflicted, whether physical or emotional. They were hateful and mean, and reveled in their vileness. His pa said it was the way of the world. He thought they should all be chucked off a cliff.
Zach rose in the stirrups. He saw no one and was about to sink back down when he caught movement near a phalanx of lodgepole pines. It took a few seconds for what he was seeing to make sense. When it did, his breath caught in his throat. Lou was on foot and fleeing for her life. He reached for his parfleche to take out his spyglass and remembered he had left it on a shelf in their bedroom.
“Damn my stupidity, anyhow.”
Lou suddenly stumbled—or so it appeared to Zach—and fell. The others were on her in a twinkling. One of them yanked her to her feet and hauled her toward the lodgepoles. The others bent and seemed to be carrying or rolling something up the slope.
Zach raised the Hawken to his shoulder but lowered it again. What was he thinking? They were too far off. He must keep his temper in check for a little while longer.
He hoped Lou was all right, hoped the fall hadn’t hurt her inside. If she should lose the baby he would wreak bloodshed on the Heart Eaters a hundredfold.
God, how Zach wished the bay had wings. Presently he neared the lodgepoles and reined toward the spot where he had seen Lou fall. He saw a badger burrow and guessed the truth. He also saw a bare shallow circle of dirt, and then another, each about as big around as a washtub. Ruts led from the circles into the trees. He wondered what made them.
A loud snapping and crunching brought Zach to a stop. He looked up just as a boulder came rolling out of the trees—straight at him. He reined sharply aside, fearing the boulder would crash into the bay’s legs and bring down the horse. It missed by an arm’s length.
Then Zach understood. The circles of dirt were where boulders had been. He reined to the left to get out of there just as another boulder hurtled out at the bay.
The horse carried them clear.
Zach went to rein around. Suddenly scarred figures burst from cover and swarmed about him. For a moment he thought he would be riddled with arrows, but their bows were slung. They had large rocks and tree limbs, and one let fly with a rock that struck the Hawken and nearly knocked it from his hand. He tried to point it, but the blunt end of a thick limb caught him in the ribs and iron fingers grabbed hold of his leg.
Zach was unhorsed. He slammed to the earth on his shoulders. Before he could rise, before he could draw his knife or his tomahawk, they were on him. A warrior was on each arm, a warrior on each leg, another astride his chest. He was pinned flat.
Zach heaved upward, but their combined weight was too much. They made no attempt to stab him or beat him. All they did was hold him down and smile. Those smiles were like searing red-hot pokers driven into Zach’s gut. He felt a berserker rage coming over him, but he held it in check. All he would do was waste himself.
Two more warriors appeared, Lou held between them. She was limping, her face etched in pain. She smiled, a smile of such love and tenderness that Zach’s head swam.
“About time you showed up.”
Caught in an ebb tide of emotion, Zach said quietly, “I sure made a mess of it.”
Louisa yearned to go to him and take him in her arms. She had tried to shout a warning, but Skin Shredder had clamped a hand over her mouth. “We’re not dead yet.”
“How bad is your leg?”
“It’s not broken.” Lou gazed down the mountain. “Are you alone?”
“Shakespeare is tending Blue Water Woman.”
“She’s alive?”
“Yes.”
“Thank God.”
“Don’t give up hope. I’ll get you out of this or die.”
“Haven’t you heard?” Lou smiled. “I’m a King. A King never gives up hope.”
Skin Shredder was puzzled. He couldn’t understand how the two could be so calm about the breed’s capture. He’d expected the man to be in a frenzy and the woman to scream and fight. Instead they behaved as if it were of no consequence. “Tie his wrists and bring his horse. Do not let him get on it. Make him walk.”
Zach resisted when they hauled him to his feet and forced his arms behind him, but there were too many. It was humiliating, being bound by enemies.
They started up the mountain.
Lou walked beside Zach, her shoulder brushing his. None of the warriors objected until she made bold to reach out and gently clasp his bounds hands. The warrior behind her, evidently thinking she was trying to undo the knots, swatted her hands and said something.
Skin Shredder was in the lead. He glanced back when he heard Star Dancer tell the white woman not to touch the breed. “Watch her closely. They must not escape.” It had been many moons since a raiding party brought back two captives. His people would be overjoyed. They would sing his praises and dance and cut out and eat the man’s heart. The woman could wait until the baby was born. Then there would be two more to eat.
The thought made his mouth water. He could almost taste them.
Chapter Fifteen
Zach King trudged gloomily along, his thoughts as dark and ominous as a thunderhead. He had failed his wife, failed the one he loved. He had let himself be caught, and now their fate and the fate of their unborn child were in the hands of warriors with no mercy in their souls.
Not that Zach would give up. Lou had been right about being a King. Among the many lessons he learned from his parents was the most important: Never, ever give up or gi
ve in. No matter what life threw at him, no matter the challenge, no matter the peril, never surrender.
So as Zach trudged, he pondered. He must get Lou out of there. On horseback would be best, but if not then on foot. He must do it before they passed over the divide, while they were still in King Valley.
The Heart Eaters had taken his weapons. But they couldn’t take his mind, and the mind was the most useful weapon of all. A mind could scheme. A mind could plot. A mind could come up with a way to snatch life from the fangs of death. A mind could defy fate.
Zach studied his captors without being obvious. With him bound, they must figure he wasn’t much of a threat. None had arrows nocked to their bows. Only one kept a hand on the hilt of his knife. The others seemed to take it for granted that he would not give them trouble, not with his wife in their clutches.
Little did they realize that was all the more incentive for Zach to slay them. But Lou presented a problem. She had hurt her leg and limped with every step. She couldn’t run fast or far. So whatever he came up with must take her handicap into account.
Zach glanced at her and saw she was smiling at him. “What?”
“I am happy you are here.” Lou was near giddy with glee, in fact. She thought she had lost him in the slide.
“You’re happy they caught me?”
“No, silly.” Lou laughed. “I’m happy you weren’t killed.”
“If they have their way, we will be.”
Lou stared at the warriors on either side. “We’ve been in tight situations before, but this is one of the worst.”
“I’ll get you out of this or die trying.”
Lou touched his arm. “I’d rather you didn’t. I’m going to have a baby and she’ll need a pa.”
“There you go again.”
Lou hoped for a girl. Zach wanted a boy. The next nine months promised to be one long argument because neither—Lou caught herself. Here she was, thinking of their future, when it was very much in doubt they would live out the week.
The Outcast w-60 Page 11
