The Valley

by William Meikle

  It might still be alive, but it was wounded. It limped badly, favoring the leg where Pat had cut into the shoulder. The eagles stayed circling above it, and occasionally swooped down close, trying to scare the beast away from the carcasses. The cat studiously ignored them for the most part, and settled next to the remains of the big bull, tearing and rending the gory mess that was all that was left.

  The eagles got more frenzied – and more careless. One made the mistake of swooping too close. The cat showed that, although injured, it was still a predator. Fast as a rattlesnake strike it pulled the eagle out of the air and smacked it hard to the ground. It tore the bird apart swiftly and efficiently.

  Above the cat the other birds lost interest. They rose serenely in the thermals and were soon lost from Frank’s view. The cat stayed next to the big bull’s remains. It lay down with a chunk of meat between its paws. It looked in no hurry to leave.

  “I done knew it weren’t deaded,” Pat said at Frank’s side. The big man’s eyes were bleary, but he had dragged himself over to sit down and look over the valley.

  “Didn’t mean to wake you big man,” Frank said.

  Pat smiled.

  “Weren’t as if it were any feather bed. I reckon my back has had enough of lying on rock for a while.”

  Frank motioned down at the cat.

  “It’s limping bad though,” he said. “You hurt it Pat. It’ll think twice before coming at us again.”

  Pat didn’t look convinced.

  Frank shifted his buttocks, aware that all the sitting had stiffened his back until he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again.

  “Give me a hand here Pat,” he said. “Help me up.”

  Pat grabbed him by his good arm and heaved. A second later Frank was standing, but his head still thought he was sitting. A wave of dizziness hit and the world spun around him.

  “Thanks,” he managed to say. The world slowed and steadied.

  Pat handed him the pistol.

  “Stay here Frank. I’ll get us some more firewood.”

  “Don’t go out of sight Pat,” Frank said. “I’ll cover you.”

  The pistol felt like a lump of lead in his hand and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to lift it, let along fire it.

  But Pat doesn’t have to know that.

  Pat climbed down off the ledge and started gathering dead wood around the tree line.

  Frank looked down to the plain. Eagles were once more tearing at the carcasses.

  The big cat was nowhere to be seen.

  22

  Long after the screams stopped, Jake could still hear them, ringing in his head. He knew he would be hearing them for a long time to come.

  Probably for the rest of my life.

  A wave of despair washed over him, bringing a deep-seated tiredness with it. He recognized the feeling; it had become an old friend back in the penitentiary.

  Would have been best to have left me there to rot George. Best for you, best for everybody.

  The Pastor and the Squire did not intrude on his grief, and for that he was thankful.

  After a while the small people arrived back in the cave. He heard them, sounding happy, cheerful even, as they prepared food. When they brought the thick steaming gruel Jake refused to look in their faces; he had promised George he would try to save them.

  But I ain’t promised to like them.

  Besides, before I can start thinking of saving them, I need to stop them from killing me.

  He ate every drop of the gruel though. That was something else he remembered from the penitentiary. Never turn down a meal, as you never know which one will be your last.

  He waited until they were alone once more before talking to the other two.

  “I’m sorry about your brother,” the Squire started, but Jake interrupted him.

  “I’ll get to mourning when we’ve got time,” he said. “I need to know if either of you have any good ideas. We can’t just sit here and let them take us one by one.”

  “I’ve been testing the ropes,” the Pastor said. “They’re as strong as any I’ve come across. I can’t get free, not even a small way.”

  The Squire smiled.

  “I have been working on our escape plan,” he said. “I managed to move my saber out of the scabbard. I have a very small piece of cold steel exposed, and have been able to start work on the rope.”

  Jake looked down. He could see where the Squire’s hands were tied at his back. He had indeed started on some rope; pieces were frayed and torn. He still had a long way to go. The effort had already raised numerous cuts on the man’s hands. Blood dripped steadily to the cave floor.

  The Squire smiled, and for the first time Jake saw strain there.

  “I will work on it when I can,” the Squire said. “But the pain is severe and I need frequent rests. Bear with me. I’ll have you out of here in no time.”

  The Pastor laughed.

  “And then what? Shall we take a quiet stroll along the valley floor? How do you suggest we get back to Ruby’s Creek? And even then, we will not be safe.”

  “The others will come,” Jake said softly.

  The Pastor laughed again.

  “It seems you have learned the benefits of faith lad. As for me, I am finding mine to be sorely tested.”

  “They will come,” Jake said.

  But the more he said it, the more it sounded like he was trying to convince no one but himself.

  They will come.

  23

  Frank sidled to the cliff edge and looked down, trying to ignore the drips of rainwater that ran down his neck under his jerkin. Pat was ten feet below, collecting wood.

  “You want to hurry up there big man?” Frank said, trying to keep things light. “I’m freezing my balls off up here.”

  “Ain’t no whores around to use them on anyways,” Pat shouted back, and laughed, as if he’d just made the funniest joke in the world.

  Frank wasn’t laughing. He scanned the fringes of the forest, watching for any movement.

  “Is there anything wrong Frank?” Pat asked. The big man by now had two armfuls of wood. Frank saw, dismayed, that the axe was still up on the ledge. It was leaning against the cave wall near the fire.

  “No problem Pat. Just get your arse back up here.”

  Jut as Pat started to clamber, with difficulty, back towards the ledge, the cat walked slowly out of the trees behind him.

  Frank tried to keep his voice calm.

  “Come on Pat,” he said. “Get a move on.”

  The big man looked up. He must have seen something in Frank’s eye, for he stopped climbing.

  “What is it Frank?”

  The cat started to creep closer, head and shoulders down close to the ground.

  It’s stalking him.

  “Just fucking move.” Frank shouted.

  Pat was so shocked he obeyed without thinking. Frank lifted the pistol. His wrists trembled and shook. He got both hands round the grip and sighted along the barrel. It wavered alarmingly.

  I’ll never hit anything like this.

  The cat crept closer. It was staring at Pat with cold intensity and total focus.

  “Come on,” Frank whispered. “Just a bit closer.”

  He wasn’t even sure if the pistol had enough stopping power. It was barely enough to put a man down without him getting back up again. This beast might shake it off as easily as a bee-sting.

  There’s only one way to know.

  Pat had almost reached the ledge.

  Just a little bit closer.

  The pistol was starting to feel like an anchor dragging at his arms.

  If I don’t shoot now, I might not get another chance.

  Pat was still looking at Frank and looked close to tears. He didn’t seem to notice the pistol.

  “I ain’t done nothing wrong have I, Frank?”

  “Just keep coming big man,” Frank said. “And get behind me.”

  As Pat squeezed past, the cat turned its attention to Fran
k. Frank had the high ground up on the edge of the rock, but he’d seen this beast in action and knew just how fast it was.

  Now or never.

  The cat hunched, ready to pounce. Frank pulled the trigger. The recoil was too much for him and the gun fell away. He heard it clattering on the rock at his feet, but he was too weak to bend for it. He kept his eyes on the cat.

  The bullet had hit just below its left eye. The hole wept blood as the beast pawed at it. It mewled pitifully, but showed no signs of falling down dead.

  It raised its head and roared then came forward again.

  24

  Jake’s head jerked up when the shot rang out.

  They’ve come.

  But even here, with the sound muffled in the depths of the cave, he knew that the shot was somewhere in the distance.

  But they are here, in the valley.

  The three of them listened, straining to hear. There were no more shots.

  “How are you doing with that rope Squire?” Jake asked.

  The man’s face was white with pain, and a small pool of blood lay beneath his hands.

  The Squire gritted his teeth.

  “I think I’m almost halfway. But this hair is tougher than an Egyptian whore’s cunny. It could take a while yet.”

  Our friends may not have a while.

  25

  For the second time in as many days Frank saw death come for him.

  And this time I’m just about ready for it.

  Yet again it wasn’t to be. He felt heat pass by his cheek. A blazing firebrand tumbled through the air and landed on the beast… right next to the gaping wound on its shoulder. Fur started to smolder and burn. The beast spun in a circle, snapping at the flame.

  Pat strode past Frank, another burning log in one hand, the axe in another. Calmly, with no sign of fear, he walked up to the cat and stuck the flaming wood right at the wound below its eye. Fur and skin sizzled.

  The beast roared again, then howled in pain. It turned to run.

  Pat swung the axe, twice. The cat fell, hamstrung on both rear legs. Even then it tried to crawl away. Pat walked forward, raised the axe above his head and brought it down fast. He planted the axe in the dead middle of the skull, almost cleaving it in two. He put his foot on the head and had to put his weight into it as he pulled the axe back out. It finally came away with a terrible suck.

  Pat turned back and smiled at Frank.

  “Well, that weren’t so bad now, were it?”

  Frank bent, meaning to retrieve the pistol, but the closer to the ground he got, the dizzier he felt. Pat stepped forward and lifted the pistol.

  “Let’s get you back up next to the fire, Frank,” he said. “Looks like you’ve had enough excitement for a while.”

  Amen to that big fella.

  Frank let Pat half-carry him back up onto the ledge. He sat down, hard, but was grateful that he didn’t have to stand any longer.

  “It’s deaded this time, ain’t it?” Pat said, looking down at where the cat’s body lay.

  “Yeah, it’s deaded Pat,” Frank said. “You killed it good.”

  Pat handed him the pistol.

  “You better have this though. I ain’t no good with one of those.”

  Frank nodded at the bloody axe in Pat’s hand.

  “You make up for it with that chopper there though. Good work Pat. You saved my life. Again. I’m never going to be able to repay you.”

  Pat looked at the ground, suddenly embarrassed.

  “Ain’t nothing nobody else wouldn’t have done in my place.”

  To save him further embarrassment Frank pretended to check the pistol while Pat stocked the fire. A couple of minutes later the big man brought Frank some jerky and more water.

  “It’s not much, but it’s all we got.”

  We’re going to have to hunt tomorrow. If we wait too long, I’ll be too weak.

  Pat pointed down at the cat.

  “Could we eat it d’ya think?”

  Frank laughed then thought about it.

  Maybe. If we get desperate enough.

  Frank moved over by the fire. He felt bloodless and cold, and no amount of heat would make any difference. He was just about to lie down and try to get some more sleep when Pat whispered from over at the ledge.

  “There’s something out there Frank. Something watching us.”

  Frank dragged himself over to the ledge. He took the pistol with him, but he was certain he’d never be able to lift it. Pat hefted the axe.

  “Just there in the trees,” Pat whispered. “I seed eyes. Lots of eyes.”

  I see them too.

  Several pairs of yellow eyes stared out from the undergrowth, watching the body of the cat. Seconds later the beasts emerged into the clearing.

  Five wolves loped out of the trees. Frank had seen many coyote in his life, but nothing prepared him for the sheer size of these. They were each around eight feet long from snout to haunches, with bushy tails hanging behind. Drool dripped from slavering muzzles showing yellowed canines as long as Frank’s index finger. Their breath steamed in the cool air.

  The lead male raised his snout and sniffed. He looked straight at Frank, then away again at the cat.

  I’ve been dismissed as an irrelevance.

  He quickly noticed why the beasts had lost all natural caution. They were starving. Sharp ribs showed, their skin paper thin, blue veins pulsing. Their flanks were so wasted they were almost skeletal. The large male’s mane was the only thing that looked healthy, hanging, silver and majestic from painfully bony shoulders.

  They wasted no time with Frank and Pat, but headed straight for the cat’s body. They ripped and tore at it with a silent ferocity that chilled Frank to the bone; tearing through skin like wet paper and crunching bone beneath their teeth. Soon their snouts and paws dripped with gore. The cat was laid open from chest to groin.

  Frank watched as the lead male took the huge heart, devouring it in two gulps. They gutted and flayed the cat. All the larger pieces of meat were efficiently stripped away and carried off into the woods. Less than twenty minutes later three of the males dragged the, now much smaller, carcass into the trees.

  All that was left to show of the big cat was a bloody smear on the slushy ground.

  26

  For the rest of the day Jake waited for rescue. But none came, and there were no more shots from out in the valley.

  What if the scorpions got them? What then?

  His mind flitted, from their predicament, to George, then just as quickly away again. He could not allow himself to think of George’s fate. Not yet, for if he did, the fear he had bubbling just below the surface might break out and engulf him.

  The Squire kept working at the ropes, but had to stop for longer and longer spells as the pain from the cuts rendered him almost senseless.

  “Tell me a story lads,” the Englishman said sometime in the afternoon. “I need something to keep my mind off the damage I am doing to these fine hands. I feel somewhat like Gulliver in Lilliput.”

  “Who and where?” Jake asked.

  The Squire sighed.

  “You tell him Pastor.”

  The Pastor laughed.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand you either.”

  The Squire managed a laugh of his own.

  “Not only am I among heathens, I’m tied up with a pair of illiterate swine.”

  He launched into a story taller than any he had told previously, about an Irishman and his many adventures on travels in strange lands. The Squire, as always, proved to be a master storyteller, and like all good tales, it transported the men away to a better place, for a while at least. The tale took a long time in the telling, but Jake was still surprised to note that darkness had started to fall while the Squire talked.

  “This Gulliver,” Jake asked. “He never came to Montana did he?”

  The Squire laughed, then grimaced at a fresh burst of pain.

  “Not that I know of. Else the tales may well have been
stranger yet. Now forgive me sirs, but I must rest before I can do any more. My arms are sore tired and are refusing to do my bidding any more.”

  Two minutes later the Squire was asleep. His snores echoed loudly through the cave.

  The Pastor seemed in no mood for talk, so Jake let the encroaching darkness fill him and soon he too fell into a fitful sleep.

  27

  Frank woke slowly. He hadn’t even been aware of being asleep. He was sitting upright on the ledge, staring out over the valley.

  Dusk had fallen. The lake sat quiet under a thin film of whispy mist. Behind him Pat lay snoring gently by the fire. Frank forced his aching limbs into movement to throw more logs on the flames.

  I’m supposed to be on watch!

  After the wolves disappeared Pat had wanted to stand watch, but Frank insisted that the big man get some rest. Frank had sat, smoking another pipe and watching the valley. The only activity had been the soaring of eagles above the carcasses near the lake, and soon even they moved on as the mist came down and blanketed everything in soft gray. With no other stimulus to occupy his mind, Frank had slipped, unnoticed into sleep.

  I can’t allow it to happen again.

  His shoulder had gone stiff as stone, but the ache was less that it had been. He also felt stronger. He wasn’t going to be using his left arm for a while, but he was beginning to think he could manage to walk without throwing up.

  In the morning, we’ll go and look for Jake and the others. I just hope we’re not too late.

  They’d barely had time for contemplation since entering the valley, but Frank was well aware that they had heard no shooting but their own since they had first faced the big cat. That was more than twenty four hours ago.

  If they are still here, we should have heard something by now.

  He pushed the thought away.

  His first priority was Pat, and after that, finding the others. Tomorrow, they would go down into the valley, a bit more carefully now they knew some of the dangers that waited.

  And if we don’t find Jake and the others in an hour or so, I’ll head back to the creek.