“Please!” she pleaded.
Thinking only of what would happen should Brian gain possession of one of his weapons, Nate wrenched his arms up and out, tearing loose from Libbie, and threw himself to the left, away from her, trying to roll but unable to do more than twist because of Brian’s hold on his legs. He kicked out, or attempted to, his leverage limited by the weight of the greenhorn’s body.
Libbie lunged at his knife.
Nate shoved her aside and she tripped and fell. Bending forward, he delivered a punch to the side of Brian’s head. The greenhorn abruptly let go of his legs, surging upward and snatching at one of the flintlocks. Nate pounded him again. Suddenly Brian vented an inarticulate snarl of rage, dived at his throat, and wrapped both hands around his neck.
Together they rolled over and over. Locked face-to-face, they fought as men driven.
Nate felt Brian’s fingers gouging into his windpipe, cutting off his air, and he whipped a right that cracked hard on the greenhorn’s chin. But Brian clung fast. Another blow rocked him and his grip slackened slightly.
“Stop it, please!” Libbie wailed.
Neither man heeded her. Brian, beet red, his veins bulging, was trying with all his might to throttle the life from Nate. For his part, Nate gasped for air and struggled to pry Brian’s steely fingers off his neck. He was amazed at the man’s strength. It was as if Brian had inexplicably become as strong as ten men.
Nate hurled himself to the left, then immediately reversed direction in an effort to throw Brian off balance. He was only partially successful. Brian’s body slipped to one side, but the man’s fingers remained locked on his throat. Already Nate’s lungs were burning in anguish. He began to feel light-headed and knew he must get air to them and get air to them now.
If there was one lesson Nate had learned from his Shoshone friends about mortal combat, that lesson could be summed up in two words. Anything goes. When a warrior’s life was on the line, he did whatever it took to prevail. Biting, scratching, kicking, they were all done in the heat of intense battle when the difference between time and eternity hung in the balance. So it was that Nate entertained no compunctions about snapping both hands up and gouging his thumbs into Brian’s eyes, digging his nails in as far as he could.
The greenhorn yelped and released his hold as he tried to protect his precious sight.
At the very moment that Brian’s hands fell from Nate’s neck, Nate rolled yet again, to one knee, and rammed his right fist into the greenhorn’s face. Brian toppled, groaning and sputtering, his hands pressed to his eyelids.
“You’ve blinded me! You’ve blinded me!”
Taking deep breaths, Nate shoved upright and drew his flintlocks. “I doubt it,” he muttered. “Now on your feet.” He took a step and prodded Brian with his toe.
“I can’t see, I tell you!”
Libbie stood a few yards off in an apparent daze. “We were so close,” she said softly. “So close.”
“You would never have made it to the settlements by yourselves,” Nate responded. “I’m doing you a favor by escorting you back to your pa.”
“If you only knew,” she said.
Nate stared at Brian. Curled in a fetal position on the ground, the greenhorn was vigorously rubbing his eyes and whining pathetically. “I told you to stand,” Nate declared, and delivered a light kick to the man’s side. “You’d better listen. It wouldn’t be wise to get me any madder than I am.”
“Damn you!” Brian rasped, tears of anguish rolling down his cheeks. Lowering his hands, he pushed unsteadily to his feet. He cracked his eyelids, squinted at the world around him, and sniffled. “Lord, it hurts.”
“But you can see, can’t you?”
Brian glowered.
“Can’t you?” Nate demanded, pointing a pistol at the greenhorn’s midsection.
“Yes! No thanks to you!”
“Next time I’ll slit your throat. Would that make you happier?” Nate said sarcastically, and moved closer to Libbie. “I’m disappointed in you,” he informed her. “I thought we were friends.”
“We are,” she said.
“Then why did you help him?”
“I had to.”
“Why?”
She averted her gaze, her hands clasped at her waist, her shoulders trembling.
“Why?” Nate persisted.
“Leave her alone!” Brian declared, stepping nearer. “She’s been tormented enough. But if you take her back, her torment will never end.” He held out his hands as would a beggar desiring alms. “If you have a spark of decency in your soul, you’ll forget this happened, mount up, and ride off.”
“We’re all going back,” Nate said.
Brian drew himself up to his full height and opened his watery eyes a bit more. “The only way you’re taking her back to that bastard is over my dead body.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“I mean it,” Brian said, clenching his fists. “I don’t care if you kill me. My life isn’t important. Libbie’s welfare is.” He took a menacing stride. “So drop those pistols or else!”
“You’re insane,” Nate said, training both guns on the greenhorn’s chest.
“I know what I’m doing,” Brian stated gruffly. He took another pace. “What will it be, King? Do you allow us to leave, or will you have the murder of an innocent man on your conscience for the rest of your life?”
“I’m taking her to the wagons,” Nate said, and cocked both flintlocks.
His eyes alight with passionate zeal, Brian paused and coiled to spring. “If not for your meddling, she would be safe right now. We’d be well on our way east. And Pudge, dear Pudge, would still be alive. He was the best friend I had in the whole world, and he died because of you.”
“I had no part in his death. He was killed in the stampede. Those things happen all the time out here.”
“Do they now?” Brian said bitterly. “But if you hadn’t shown up at our camp when you did, if you hadn’t delayed us further by attacking me when I went to shoot your horse, we wouldn’t have been anywhere near that herd when they stampeded. We’d have been miles from the spot.” He gazed sadly skyward and spoke to the clouds. “Why did it have to be Pudge? I saw that he was about to ride into a low limb and I yelled but he couldn’t hear me. He went down and didn’t move, and I had no chance to reach him before the bison did. I barely had time to get behind a boulder!”
There was no doubting the sincerity of the greenhorn’s remorse, but Nate refused to accept responsibility for the tragedy. “If you’re going to place blame, place some on yourself. If you hadn’t spirited Libbie from her folks, none of this would have happened.”
“I knew you wouldn’t understand,” Brian said, and unexpectedly leaped.
Nate was almost caught by surprise. Almost, yet not quite. He shifted to the right, so that Brian missed tackling him, and rammed a flintlock into the man’s temple. Brian fell prone, stunned.
“No more!” Libbie screamed, dashing over and throwing herself protectively on top of the one she loved. “I can’t stand to see him hurt! Please don’t hit him again!”
“That’s up to him.”
She looked tenderly at the greenhorn, then caressed his brow. “You wouldn’t despise him so if you knew the truth. And I think it’s time you were told.”
“No!” Brian blurted out in a whisper. “Don’t!”
“Yes, beloved,” Libbie said. “It’s the only way. If he knows, he may agree to let us go.”
“He has no right to know!” Brian disagreed. “It’s our burden, and ours alone.” Grunting, he rose on an elbow and raised his other hand to touch her cheek. “Let the past be buried. Every time you dig it up, every time you relive the nightmare, you’re only adding to your misery.”
“We must,” Libbie insisted, and slowly rose to stare Nate straight in the eyes. “Mr. King, I don’t blame you for any of this. You had no idea when you agreed to guide us that you would be working for a murderer.”
“A mur
derer? Your father?”
Libbie nodded.
“Who did he kill?”
“Our child.”
Nate glanced at Brian, who was as white as milk, then back at her. “I’ll admit your father isn’t the most tolerant man I’ve ever met, but a murderer? How do I know you’re not making this up so I’ll go along with what you want?”
“Not quite a year ago I gave birth to a healthy baby girl,” Libbie disclosed, her lower lip quivering. “I’ll admit I made a mistake. I should have waited to be in the family way until after Brian and I were married, but I couldn’t help myself. I love him so much.” She stopped, her voice breaking, and coughed. “Do you have any idea how people in the States regard a woman who has a child out of wedlock, Mr. King?”
Nate nodded, but she seemed not to notice.
“They regard her as sinful. To them, she is no better than a common prostitute. People shun her. They go out of their way to avoid her. Even her church congregation wants nothing to do with her, and her family ends up sharing the blame,” Libbie said, tears flowing freely. “I know. I saw it happen to a cousin of mine.”
There was no need for words so Nate made no comment.
“I would have gladly faced all that,” Libbie went on. “With Brian by my side, I would have faced anything. But my pa never liked Brian. Pa refused to let me see him, so I had to sneak away whenever I could.” Her voice broke again. “When I became in the family way, Pa saw red. He beat me within an inch of my life, then vowed that no daughter of his was going to give the family a bad name by acting like a whore. He warned Brian to stay away from me or he would kill him. And he made me a prisoner in our own house. Once I was so big that it showed, he wouldn’t even let me use the outhouse except at night.”
Tears were pouring down Brian’s face.
Libbie dabbed at the tip of her nose with her sleeve. “Ma helped me deliver, and as soon as the baby came out, Pa took her.”
“Took her?” Nate repeated.
“Yes.” Her tears were a virtual torrent now. “I never did find out where until a few months later when I came on a mound of dirt at the back of our property.”
“Dear God.”
“From then on, Pa wouldn’t let me out of his sight. He was worried I’d, soil the family name again. He was also scared someone might find out what had happened, so he decided we should move somewhere else and start all over. He sold our farm, and off to the promised land we went.”
Nate let down the hammers on the flintlocks and tucked them under his belt. His throat was oddly constricted. There was also an itching sensation in his nose as he stepped up to her and put his hands on her slender shoulders. “You should have told me sooner.”
“Now will you let us go in peace?”
“You’ll never make it alone.”
“We have to try.”
“You don’t have any guns. You don’t have any supplies.”
“We’ll make do.”
“And what about the hostiles? What about the grizzlies and all the other wild beasts?”
“God will watch over us.”
The lump in Nate’s throat grew, and he had to cough himself. “Why not go to Oregon? I’ll make certain your pa doesn’t bother you.”
“We can’t, and you know it.”
“Then I’ll find a spot in the hills where you can stay until I get back. I’ll see you safely to Fort Leavenworth, and I won’t charge you a penny.”
Libbie smiled. “You’re a kind man, Mr. King. I’ve always known that. But what about your family? And we both know Brian and I would be hard pressed to live off the land. We’d be better off heading east.”
“There has to be another way.”
“There isn’t.”
For all of ten seconds Nate racked his brain. At last, his soul heavy with sorrow, his mind ablaze with indignation, he uttered a heartfelt, “Damn!” Then, again, so softly the word was barely audible. “Damn.”
~*~
They saw him coming from a long way off, and were waiting in a state of nervous agitation when he reached the wagons. The Websters hung back. But Simon and Alice hurried up to him and the former gripped his arm as he dismounted.
“Speak, man! Where the devil is she? Don’t tell me you couldn’t find them?”
Nate stared at Banner’s hand until the man removed it. Wearily, he tied Pegasus to a wheel and leaned back. “I found them, all right,” he announced, “and I’m afraid I have bad news.”
“Please, no,” Alice breathed.
“You’ll have to go on to the Oregon Territory by yourselves,” Nate said.
“But what about Libbie?” Simon roared. “Is she alive? What could have happened to her and those two degenerates who took her?”
“The Piegans,” Nate said.
Both husband and wife recoiled, aghast.
“Tell me it’s not so!” Simon declared.
“I wish I could,” Nate responded. “They ran into the rest of the same war party that attacked us.”
For a fleeting second Simon’s countenance reflected profound sorrow, then the sorrow was replaced by hate so overwhelming that he flushed scarlet and clenched his fists until the knuckles were pale. “It’s all their fault! That sinful Derrick boy and his fat friend! They stole our precious girl out from under us and got her killed by their stupidity! If they were still alive I’d beat their brains out!” Spinning, he stalked off toward the stream, raining blows on everything in his path.
Nate watched him go, then looked at Alice. She was studying him from head to toe, her brow knit in deep thought.
“I’ve always taken you for a remarkably careful man, Mr. King. One of the most careful men I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you.”
“Yes indeed. So I find it quite surprising that you seem to have lost some of your effects while you were gone,” Alice said, and pointed at his waist. “For instance, I could have sworn you once carried a knife with you.”
“I dropped it somewhere.”
“Oh. And did you also drop one of your pistols? I seem to recall you had two, not one.”
“I lost it while going through thick brush. Don’t fret yourself. I have another one at home.”
“Thick brush, you say? Is that where you lost your powder horn and ammunition pouch as well?”
“I don’t rightly know. It’s not important. I have plenty to spare in my parfleche.”
“Do you now?” Alice said, glancing at the stallion. “Why, you’ve apparently lost one of those as well. Didn’t you have two before?”
“They never do stay on very well no matter how tight you tie them,” Nate said.
Alice Banner’s eyes were moist but sparkling with an inner light as she leaned forward and whispered, “Have no fear. Your secret is safe with me. I doubt my husband will even notice.” Straightening, her cheeks and chin trembling she said huskily, “Bless you, sir. I only pray she finds the happiness she so truly deserves at long, long last.”
“So do I, ma’am. More than you’ll ever know.”
WILDERNESS 12: APACHE BLOOD
Life in the wild Rockies was never easy for the courageous mountain men who lived there. And those settlers who dared to travel were endangered by murderous cutthroats and vicious beasts. Only intrepid pioneers like Nathaniel King had the strength and skill to battle the ever-present perils. But when Nate and his young family journeyed to the southern Rockies, bloodthirsty Apaches kidnapped his wife and son. With the help of his friend Shakespeare McNair, Nate would save his loved ones—or pay the ultimate price.
Dedicated to Judy, Joshua, and Shane.
And to Wayne Winsett, who has the patience of a saint.
Chapter One
They were only ten miles along on their journey when their huge black dog spied the hostiles.
It was late morning. The party of five, consisting of two brawny, bearded men, two lovely Indian women, and one grinning boy vibrant with excitement, had just crested a low ridge. Before them, extending from nor
th to south, ran the long emerald line of rolling foothills that bordered the majestic Rocky Mountains to their rear.
In the lead rode a strapping young man sporting a mane of black hair that flowed past his broad shoulders. His alert green eyes swept the foothills and the well-nigh limitless prairie beyond, but he detected no movement. Satisfied, he started down the ridge, and it was then that the dog voiced a low growl.
Nathaniel King reined up sharply and glanced at the mongrel, which was gazing intently to the southwest, its thin lips curled up over its tapered teeth. “What’s got you riled, Samson?” he asked softly, and stared in the same direction. Instantly he saw them, not quite a mile away, seven or eight riders moving between a pair of foothills, heading for the plain. He could tell they were Indians, but they were too far off to note details of dress and hair that would enable him to determine the tribe to which they belonged.
“Utes!” declared the white-haired man behind him. “A war party out to count coup, I reckon.”
Nate snorted. “You’re guessing, Shakespeare. You’d have to be an eagle to see them clearly from here.”
The elderly mountain man gave a snort of his own. “That’s the trouble with you young cubs. You don’t use your senses—your eyes, ears, and nose—like you should, the way animals do. That’s because your brains are always half asleep,” he said, and launched into a quote from his favorite playwright. “Care keeps his watch in every old man’s eye, and where care lodges, sleep will never lie. But where unbruised youth with unstuffed brain doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.”
Despite himself, Nate chuckled. His mentor’s passion for the writings of William Shakespeare was legendary among the trapping fraternity, which explained the nickname bestowed on McNair years ago by his friends. “If you say they’re Utes, I’ll believe you,” he responded. “You’re seldom wrong.”
“What do you mean by seldom?” McNair demanded. Nate was watching the band below. Utes often attacked whites on sight, and he had to be ready to get his family to safety. Fortunately, the warriors were moving to the east, their backs to the ridge. Unless one of them turned completely around, he and his loved ones were safe. Even so, his left hand gripped the Hawken resting across his thighs a bit tighter.
Wilderness: Northwest Passage/Apache Blood (A Wilderness Double Western #6) Page 15
