by Ron Schwab
Captain Quint looked pleased and nodded his head in agreement. "Well, that's the way it was when we got the gold, but some of the greedy bastards took a notion there ought to be an even split. We was about to come to some blood-letting, when one of our scouts came riding in like the devil was after him. He said that a full company of cavalry was no more than a mile away. Scully and I had already agreed that he and a half dozen trusted men would take off with the gold, head north by way of east Wyoming and meet up with me in Deadwood. I was to tell the rest of the boys we'd meet in Denver to make the split. If I stayed with them, they'd figure we wasn't going to pull no shenanigans. So, I took off with the main bunch and let the soldiers chase us, and Scully peeled off and headed north with the gold. I never saw him again."
"So, he kept the gold?"
"That's what I thought at first. Hard for me to believe. We'd been friends since we was boys in southeast Missouri. We was like brothers. I did everything just like we planned. Troopers killed some of our fighters, and I finally made it to Denver with eight men. I put on a show of waiting for Scully and then, after a few weeks, slipped away and made my way up to Deadwood. Scully never showed up. After six months I gave up, and, until a year ago, I made my way hiring out my guns on both sides of the law. Most of this outfit I recruited to back up a rancher in a range war."
"What happened a year ago?"
"I was in a saloon in Cheyenne when in walks one of the guys who was supposed to go to Deadwood with Scully. I cornered him damned fast, believe me, and we had ourselves a serious talk. Chester's story was that Scully's bunch was attacked by Cheyenne in northern Wyoming, and he was the only one that escaped with his scalp. He didn't know what happened to the gold. Knowing Chester, the cowardly bastard probably took off like a bullet at the first sign of Indians and left the others to take up the fight. After our talk, he went and had a mishap and shot hisself in the back of the head later that night."
"But you still didn't know what happened to the gold?"
"No, but I was cozy with some Cheyennes, and I got ahold of an old renegade who hung around town looking for ways to earn a bottle of whiskey. I promised him a case of the poison if he could find out something about what happened to Scully and the gold. It wasn't more than a week and he had the story. It seems a war party did come across Scully and the boys. The Indians were mostly young bucks anxious to collect scalps. They outnumbered Scully's crew and didn't take long to do their slaughtering. Two of the Cheyennes was killed, but they collected scalps from five whites. One got away, and that would have been Chester."
"And the gold? This must be where my father comes in."
"They found a heavy metal box full of coins. They knew it was something white men used to buy things, but they had no use for it. They agreed to take it to a trading post to see if they could trade it for whiskey."
"And they took it to my father's trading post."
"Smart bitch. Now you're catching on to this. They took it to dePaul's. It seems your old man had some kind of understanding with the tribes that he could operate a post out in the middle of this godforsaken country. He'd trade for furs and hides the Indians would bring in and pay in trade goods . . . and a lot of whiskey. Only this time, instead of furs, the old thief traded his whiskey for the gold." Quint's mouth twisted with contempt. "Your old man was no better than any other outlaw. He just didn't use a gun."
"I still don't see what this has to do with me."
"I think you know what happened to the gold."
"But I don't."
"I spent the better part of a year checking out your old man. I know things about him you never would've guessed. He never spent those gold coins. He couldn't while the robbery was fresh in everybody's minds. Even after some years passed he'd still have to be careful . . . dribble the money out a little at a time. Couldn't just walk into a bank and drop a big box of gold coins for deposit."
"I know nothing about this gold. I swear." She saw Quint's face start to cloud up again, and she abruptly stopped her protest. She was only useful to him if he thought she knew something.
Quint continued. "Your old man had a falling out with the Indians about five years later. It seems some of the Sioux and Cheyenne elders started to see his whiskey dealing as trouble. They threatened to burn out his place and told him to get the hell out. He didn't waste no time and left most of his inventory behind. No sign of the gold has showed up yet, and I've had my men check over every inch of the property your thieving old man owned near Cheyenne. Nothing. I think it's at the old trading post."
She had no way of knowing if his conclusions were accurate—whether her father ever had this gold. She remembered the trading post. She had been there once when she was about eleven and again, perhaps, two years later. A few years after that, she remembered her father saying he had closed it up. "You are probably correct," she said.
Quint smiled. It was a charming smile, she thought. The way he changed moods and demeanor was scary. "Now you're making me think that you might not be the stupid bitch I thought you was."
"I remember the trading post. I was there twice. I remember now that my father mentioned some gold he hid there," she lied. "I didn't think it was very much, and I didn't give it any thought. I can't recall where he said he put it. I have to think about it."
"Think hard, bitch. I want an answer tonight."
"Will you share the gold with me? I should get a commission. I think twenty per cent would be fair."
He looked at her incredulously. "You're asking for a commission? How is it you think you can claim a share? You're my prisoner. I can kill you as quick as swatting a fly."
"But if you kill me you won't find the gold."
"You said you didn't know anything about the gold."
"I lied."
He stared at her with a puzzled look on his face, and she met his eyes evenly. "Then you do know."
"I do."
"Then tell me now."
"I will tell you tonight after I pleasure you. I want to convince you we should be partners . . . in business and in pleasure. Come to where I sleep. I will have the robes spread. The others will be gone. You will have a night you will never forget. I promise." She could see the excitement in his eyes—and in his tight britches.
14
As dusk's shadows darkened the slopes of the surrounding mountains, Skye and She-Bear sat on the ground in the women's enclave and spoke softly. A small fire crackled a few feet away, helping to ward off the high-country chill that was quickly descending on the camp. A buffalo robe was spread nearby. Another was bound in a bundle by strips of rawhide She-Bear had pilfered from the camp. Two loose strips were anchored to the others to serve as shoulder straps.
"Your wounds," She-Bear said. "Has my poultice helped? The side of your face looks like it was raked with a grizzly bear's claws. The shoulder is not quite so bad."
"You have endured worse here. So have Antelope and Prairie Flower. I will be fine."
"I have a small bag of things we will need," She-Bear said. "Some jerky . . . for a day or two. A canteen. A nice piece of flint. Other things I thought might be useful. As you asked, I sharpened two sturdy pine sticks about four feet in length. They are next to the fire."
"I see that. What about Antelope and Prairie Flower?"
"They refuse to go with us, but I convinced them it would be dangerous for them to tell. I said the men would probably kill us all if they learned of the plan. They are sharing meals with the raiders now. Antelope was planning to seduce one of the men she likes. If they are with the men, they do not think they can be accused of being a part of the escape."
Skye shook her head doubtfully. "Such things are unpredictable. I still wish they were going with us. These are evil men."
"Are you certain you can get away from this Captain without my help?"
"No. But I hope to kill him. If I can cut off the serpent's head, our escape will be easier. The others may lose interest in tracking us. I doubt if most are even aware of a sea
rch for the gold. And if Captain Quint is not alive to pay them, they may give only a token chase. If I do not meet you at the gnarled aspen within a few minutes after you hear a commotion in the camp, do not wait . . . run."
"It is getting dark. I must go capture our weapons."
"Be careful."
"I know the sentry I have selected. He is a little man with a long, hungry spear. He will be grasping to contain his bowels while I cut his throat."
Sometimes she wished She-Bear was less descriptive with her words. She began to pace, nervous with tension, knowing that failure tonight would bring certain death, preceded by unimaginable torture. It seemed like an hour, but she knew it was much less, when she heard the rustling of the brush and tree branches as someone moved along the short path to the enclave.
Captain Quint emerged from the darkness and looked around warily before fastening his eyes on Skye, who had slipped out of her moccasins and was now working her doeskin dress over her head. Momentarily, it fell at her feet, and she stood naked before him. She smiled brazenly. "I am ready to serve your every need, Captain, and then we will talk about gold and our little partnership." She gestured toward the buffalo robe spread on the ground. "Join me here. I will build up the fire."
She tossed a few logs on the fire and poked the points of the long stakes into the coals at the fire's edge. She could see that Quint could not take his eyes off her and was surprised to find that this pleased her somehow.
"I'll be damned, stumpy arm or not, you are one beautiful woman. Maybe we can be partners."
He had already started sliding down his trousers and bent over now to pull off a boot while trying to stand on the other foot. His balance was tenuous, and Skye seized the moment. She plucked up one of the stakes, the pointed end of which had burst into flames, and lunged toward Quint, her strong right arm thrusting forward and driving the stake into his eye. He groaned and stepped backwards as his pants slid down around his knees, tripping him up and slinging him to the rocky ground, leaving him helpless as a turtle on its back. As Quint reflexively pulled the stake from his eye socket, Skye grabbed the other stake and tried to plunge it in his gut. He was rolling in agony, however, and moved just as the point struck and broke off on his ribs. He started to scream now, and Skye eased into her moccasins and snatched up her tattered dress and disappeared into the forest.
She-Bear was waiting at the gnarled aspen about fifty yards from the camp. She held the rifle in her hand and a gun belt and holster with an Army Colt in the other. As soon as Skye got back into her dress, She-Bear slipped the gun belt over Skye's head and over her left shoulder, so the holster and pistol dropped just above her right hip within easy reach of her good arm. She-Bear already had the buffalo robe slung over her back, and she picked up her leather bag. "You lead," she said.
Skye moved out, heading due west. The chaotic sounds coming from the camp indicated that the barbarians had not yet organized a search party. She feared she had not killed Captain Quint. She had gone for the eye first, knowing that would disable him. Her chances for a kill on a torso thrust with her feeble weapon had been remote. She took some satisfaction that he would know what it was like to have only one of something that was supposed to be a pair. Perhaps, some woman would tell him someday that his eye was ugly and repugnant to her.
15
The route to the river was a downhill run, and Skye and She-Bear, despite an occasional stumble over the unstable, rocky terrain, reached the river bank in less than a half hour. It had been dry, and the snows from the previous winter had pretty well melted off, leaving the river running at a low depth. Still, the water raced swiftly, tumbling and sweeping over its stone-covered bed with a force that could easily topple man or horse trying to cross. Two light-weight women made an easier target for the turbulent waters. One misstep could launch the escapees on a wild and violent journey down a white-water chute that dropped over falls and crushed against canyon walls. Agonizing death awaited.
Skye jogged along the river bank, her eyes searching out a viable crossing point. She paused several times and studied promising passages before rejecting them. Finally, she came to a widening of the river that interested her. She stopped and turned to She-Bear. "This might work. What do you think?"
"It is a longer crossing."
"But it should be shallower . . . no higher than our waists at the deepest, I would think. And the water slows some here."
"Can we not just stay on this side of the river?"
"No, I think we must cross. They will search this side first, and they will have their own problems with crossing. They will also wonder if we were swept down the river. We have no choice."
She-Bear shrugged and nodded agreement, although Skye sensed that the younger woman had reservations. Obviously, the tough warrior-woman, who could cut a man's throat without flinching, did not have a fondness for water. Skye, in sharp contrast, was very much at home in water. She had yet to judge, however, how much her missing forearm would handicap her movement there. Once again, Skye shed her moccasins and garments. Then she retrieved some of the rawhide strips from She-Bear's bag and with her single hand, with which she was becoming increasingly dexterous, bound everything into a bundle and tied it around her, so it fit snugly under her chin. She-Bear watched and followed suit.
When their clothing was secure, the women each had a bulky, but not terribly heavy, load. Skye kept the holstered Colt slung over her shoulder, and She-Bear carried her rifle and the deerskin bag in one hand and the buffalo robe on her back. Skye did not know how to equalize the burden, for her single hand would be needed during the task of crossing the river.
Before they entered the icy water, Skye spoke to She-Bear. "You have been a brave young woman. We are going survive this. You must believe. You will take my hand as we cross the river. Do not let go. I will not let you. We travel this path together. We will do this."
Skye stepped into the river's edge, finding that the current swept only about her ankles. She commenced walking slowly toward the west bank, her feet, although numbing already from the frigid water, feeling the bite of each sharp stone. She-Bear gripped her hand like a vise as, step by careful step, they approached the river's center, the water climbing now to their upper thighs and its increased thrust threatening to knock them over. Suddenly, Skye felt a jolting yank on her arm, and she saw that She-Bear had lost her footing and was being pulled away by the water. In the moonlight she could see her friend's terror-filled eyes, and she planted her feet and held fast, while the younger woman struggled to regain her footing. She could feel her own feet slipping when the pressure on her arm eased, and she could see She-Bear had found a foothold and was moving slowly toward her.
When She-Bear had returned to her place beside her and they had taken a moment to regroup, Skye started the slow pace again, pleasantly surprised to find they had evidently forded the deepest of the river. She took heart now that each step brought them nearer the river's edge, and when they finally reached it, they both collapsed exhausted on the bank.
After a few minutes, however, Skye forced herself to her feet and nudged She-Bear to do the same. They dressed and quickly disappeared into the trees. No sooner had they done so than the sound of excited voices came from across the river. The barbarians had finally organized to give chase, but to Skye they seemed disorganized and confused. No person appeared to be in command of the hunt. She assumed the Captain was not yet able to resume command, but she knew that when he did, he would do so with a vengeance, and she would not underestimate his cunning. "We must go west away from the river," she said. "They will not decide we have crossed it for some time, and when they do, they will expect us to follow the river's course. We shall, but from several miles distant. We will go higher into the mountains where we can view the river below us and follow deer trails there. We will also be able to see if the barbarians have found our tracks."
"I understand, but we will need rest."
"We will travel at night when they cannot see us
. We will sleep during the day." Skye turned toward the west and began to walk at a brisk pace, tossing a look over her shoulder to confirm that She-Bear followed. She did.
As the night wore on, their course led them to steeper ground. They paused for a rest. Skye studied the rocky landscape and spotted a deer trail leading higher into the mountains. "It is time to climb," she said.
Near dawn they stopped at a large outcropping of rock that jutted from the mountainside like a huge molar. It gave them a perfect viewing platform, yet, at its hollowed-out base, they were well protected from the sight of anyone in the river valley below. The climb had been steep, but Skye felt they needed to go no higher. From here on they would try to travel parallel to the river until they decided it was safe to cross again. Then they would descend from the mountainside.
They sat down in their rock-nest and ate some jerky and drank from the canteen they had filled from a stream they had found snaking its way down the mountainside toward the Powder River. Silently, She-Bear unbundled the buffalo robe and spread it on the ground. She lay down and quickly dropped off in a deep slumber. After a final survey of the valley below, Skye lay down beside her, pulled the edge of the robe over the two of them as far as it would reach, and submitted her own surrender to sleep.
They slept most of the morning, until Skye was awakened by the sound of distant voices. She started to nudge She-Bear but saw that her friend was awake and alert, having apparently heard the sounds, also. They climbed to the top of the outcropping and peered over. Perhaps a half hour's climb below, two men were following their trail.
"The Pawnee horse dung," She-Bear whispered.
"Yes, and it is too late to outrun them."
16
When Ethan awoke well before sunrise, he felt the firm pressure of something snuggled against his back. He sighed. Running Fox must have moved his robe after Ethan finished his watch. The boy had kept his distance after their unpleasantness yesterday, but, like a young puppy, he had returned, all the scolding forgotten. Ethan slipped out of his bedroll and reached for his moccasins. He saw that McLarty's buffalo robe had already been rolled up and secured, and there was no sign of the man anywhere. He could make out the shadowy outline of Jeb in the trees near the edge of camp. It was deathly quiet out there, it occurred to him. Usually, by this time the birds would be starting their morning chorus.
