Fear Weaver (14 page)

“Please God, no,” Nate breathed. The bay was going as fast as it could, but it wasn’t fast enough to suit Nate. In his anxiety he lashed the reins and jabbed his heels, trying to get an extra spurt of speed out of the animal.

Somewhere behind him were Peter and Erleen. Nate hadn’t waited for them to mount. Nor was he about to slow and wait for them now. He had warned them that something like this might happen, but they had refused to listen. Now he prayed their pig-headedness didn’t cost the girls their lives.

Nate approached the last bend before the clearing. He was so intent on the trail ahead that he almost
missed movement in the forest to his left. He glanced over and saw a pale figure dart behind a thicket. It moved so quickly that he could not note much detail. But it was on two legs, that much was certain. Adding proof his hunch was right. He almost gave chase. Only the thought that the girls and Aggie might need him kept him flying to their aid.

The cabin door
was
open. Wide open, with no sign of life inside or out. Nate opened his mouth to shout, but his vocal cords were half paralyzed by fear.

A shadow moved across the doorway.

Nate vaulted from the saddle while the bay was still in motion. In his haste he stumbled and almost fell. Then he was running toward the door with the Hawken ready, and forced a cry from his throat. “Aggie! Tyne! Anora! Are you in here?”

Philberta filled the doorway.

In reflex, Nate sprang back and came within a whisker of squeezing the trigger. “Are you trying to be shot?”

“The girls are fine,” Philberta said calmly. “They are in here with me. But Aggie went after it.”

“After what?”

“Tyne saw something at the window. It was looking in at us. A monster, she called it. Before I could stop her, Aggie ran out. She shouted something about seeing it. When I got to the door she was almost to the woods.”

“Where?”

Philberta pointed near a spot near where Nate had glimpsed the pale figure. Stay inside!” Whirling, he sprinted for the trees. He heard horses coming up the trail, but he didn’t stop. Philberta could explain to Peter and Erleen.

Nate plunged into the vegetation. “Aggie? Where
are you?” Shouting when an enemy was near was foolhardy but Nate had to find her before the creatures got hold of her. The spectral slayers wouldn’t spare her because she was female. Any shred of compassion they possessed had long been extinguished.

Nate came to the thicket and dashed around it, but the pale figure was gone. Nor was Agatha anywhere to be seen. He shouted her name several times while glancing anxiously about. She had to have heard him; she couldn’t have gotten that far.

Frantic with worry Nate skirted a blue spruce and wound through a stand of pines. Suddenly someone was in front of him. He tried to stop but couldn’t. Down they crashed, their limbs entangled, Nate shifting so his shoulder bore the brunt for both of them. Pain spiked his arm and he almost lost his grip on his rifle. “You could have given a yell.”

Aunt Aggie grunted as she sat up. “I was chasing someone, and I didn’t want them to know where I was.”

“You should have stayed at the cabin.”

“Why? Because I’m female? You would have given chase.”

Nate slowly rose and gave her a hand standing. The woods around them were still, but that could be deceiving. “You say that you saw someone? What did they look like?”

“I only saw them for a split second. No doubt you will think I am insane but it was an Indian. A
white
Indian.”

“You’re right,” Nate said.

“You’ve seen the white Indian yourself?”

Nate grinned. “No, you’re right that you are insane. Where did this white Indian get to?”

“I couldn’t keep up. I never saw anyone so fast. And the way he ran, hunched over, as if he was a hunchback. I wish I could have seen his face.”

“No, you don’t.” Nate took her elbow and started her back. “What makes you think it was an Indian?”

“The man was practically naked. You don’t see white people running around without their clothes on.”

“You too?”

“Pardon?” she asked.

“There was only the one?”

“That I saw. I thought if I could shoot him, we could get to the bottom of the mystery. But I never had a clear shot.”

“You were lucky.”

“Don’t you mean he was? I would have shot him and not thought twice about it. He is to blame for the disappearances. I am sure of it.”

At last they were in agreement. “So am I. But it’s not what you think. It’s not what you think at all.”

“Then you have some explaining to do, Nate King.”

“Soon.”

Shouts from the clearing spurred them along. Peter and Erleen had arrived and the girls had come out of the cabin. Philberta stood by the door fingering her knife.

“There you are, Aggie!” Erleen exclaimed. “I was worried to death. Don’t you know better than to go chasing savages into the woods? Thank God you weren’t hurt.”

Agatha whispered to Nate, “She was worried about you, too.”

“Sure she was.”

Everyone except Nate started to talk at once. Peter
held up a hand, silencing them, and suggested they go inside where it was safe.

“I’ll tend to the horses,” Nate offered. No one seemed to hear him. Taking the reins to all three animals, he was almost to the corner when he acquired a shadow.

“I’ll go with you,” Philberta offered.

“I can manage.”

“I don’t mind.” Philberta smiled. “You need someone to watch your back while you strip the saddles.”

Nate never expected her to be so considerate. She gave the impression he wasn’t high on her list of favorite people.

“I also wanted to talk. I have an idea how we can catch whoever is behind all this.”

“I am all ears.”

“Bait,” Philberta said. “Someone should sit out in the open and lure the heathens in for the rest to shoot.”

“Do you have someone in mind?” Nate was willing to bet she wanted him to do it.

“Me.”

“You’re serious?”

“Never more so. It’s a good plan. I’ll take some clothes to the stream and wash them. The rest of you can wait in the trees. When the Indians jump me, you can pick them off.”

“You’ll be in great danger,” Nate pointed out.

“Those savages killed my husband and my three sons. I relish the chance to pay them back.”

Nate looked at her. She wore a bitter expression, and there was no denying the sincerity in her tone. “We’ll talk it over with the others. If they agree, then we’ll try it.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll agree,” Philberta predicted. “Peter wants revenge on the slayers of his brother.”

Nate opened the corral gate and led the horses in. Philberta stood guard, humming. That bothered him. He couldn’t say exactly why, other than she was much too cheerful for someone who had lost her family. Should he ever lose his, he would be devastated for years.

The woods stayed quiet. Nate gave the forest a last scrutiny before going in. He had the feeling that unseen eyes were on him again. Closing the door, he barred it.

“Don’t put that bar on,” Erleen said. “Our boys aren’t back yet.”

Only then did Nate realize Fitch and Harper weren’t there. “They should have heard the scream.”

“That was me,” Tyne said. “I’m sorry.”

“Never apologize for being afraid,” Erleen said, giving her a hug. “Fear is natural. I have been scared many times in my life. Why, once I was in the root cellar and a black widow got on my sleeve and I screamed fit to bust my eardrums.”

Nate smiled. For all her shrill moments, Erleen tried her best to be a good mother.

“Fitch and Harper will be here soon,” Peter declared. “We might as well sit tight.”

Nate agreed. But it was plain Peter didn’t like waiting, and Nate couldn’t blame him. He wouldn’t like it, either, not if Zach was out there somewhere, in a valley that harbored—what, exactly? If his hunch was right, what were they? He thought of the book by Mary Shelley,
Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus
. Monsters. That was what they were. He was tempted to say something to the others but he held off, on the remote chance he was wrong.

Erleen made coffee for the adults and tea for the children. Peter sat at the table, drumming his fingers. Philberta rocked in the rocking chair, softly humming.

Nate stayed at the window, careful not to show himself. He hoped one of the things would venture into the open so he could get a good look—and a clear shot. But they were too shrewd for that. Even in their state.

Aunt Aggie came over and leaned against the wall. “I will spell you if you want.”

“I’m fine.”

“It has been almost an hour and no sign of Fitch and Harper. Peter is worried sick but trying not to show it. They should have been here by now, shouldn’t they?”

Nate nodded.

“Maybe we’re mistaken. Maybe they didn’t hear Tyne.” Aunt Aggie bit her lower lip. “No. I don’t really believe that. I’m trying to convince myself there must be some reason besides the obvious.” She clasped her arms to her bosom and trembled. “Lord, no. Not them, too.”

“Don’t give up hope. They could still be alive.”

“You don’t believe that. But it is kind of you to say so. You are a kind man, Nate. Is that your given name?”

“Nathaniel.”

“I thought so. Isn’t it interesting how we always come up with shorter ones? Aggie for Agatha. Nate for Nathaniel. Bob for Robert and Jim for James. As if our given names aren’t good enough.” Aggie glanced at the table. “You would think we would call Peter Pete but all we ever call him is Peter.”

“You bring up the darnedest things.”

Agatha looked at him, and then at the others, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“That dead Blackfoot got me to thinking. We’re not up against Indians, are we?”

“No.”

“Someone else is killing everyone.”

“More or less.”

“I confess to being confused. And extremely thankful you are here. Left on our own, I’m afraid none of us would survive.”

They still might not, but Nate kept quiet.

Agatha tried another tack. “What did you find today when you were out searching?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I flatter myself that I am sensitive to moods and feelings. You were troubled when you came back. Oh, you tried to act natural and pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes, except mine. So tell me, Nathaniel. What upset you so much you have seen fit to keep it from the rest of us, presumably for our own good?”

Before Nate could answer, Peter stood and announced, “It’s been too long. I am going after my sons.”

“It’s best if you stay here,” Nate said.

“You’re a father. Don’t tell me you don’t understand.”

Peter made for the door, and Nate took a step to stop him. But Erleen reached Peter first and planted herself in front of him, her hands on his chest.

“I agree with Mr. King. We should continue to wait.”

“How can you say that? They are your boys, too.
Something has happened or they would have been here by now.”

Erleen’s eyes moistened. “Please, Peter. I couldn’t endure it if I lost you.”

Peter was disposed to argue, but just then Aunt Aggie called out, “Over here, quick! Something is coming!”

Nate swept a curtain aside as everyone rushed over. The undergrowth across the clearing crashed and crackled to what sounded like a buffalo stampede. But it was a horse. In a flurry of pounding hooves, the animal burst from the forest.

And Tyne screamed again.

She had good cause.

The horse was a roan. Harper’s roan. It was lathered with sweat and caked with blood. The blood came from a jagged hole in its throat. Another hole, low down on its side, oozed more blood and other fluids. It came to a stop, then staggered toward the cabin, its head hung in exhaustion.

“What did that?” Anora gasped.

“Look at all the bite marks,” Aunt Aggie said.

Nate had seen them, all over the roan’s legs and belly. Not deep, but deep enough that hair and flesh had been ripped off.

“Was it a mountain lion, do you think?” Erleen asked. “Or could it have been wolves?”

Philberta laughed.

“Neither,” Nate said. No animal ever made those wounds.

“It’s not the horse that concerns me now,” Peter said. “It’s our sons. Where
are
they?”

“Little Tommy Tucker sings for his supper,” Philberta said.

Everyone looked at her.

Agatha sniffed as if she smelled a foul odor. “You
and those silly rhymes. That was most unseemly especially with the girls here.”

“It’s all right, Aunt Aggie,” Anora said.

“No, it’s not, my dear. Adults must have a sense of decorum. To joke about that poor animal at a time like this is most immature.”

Philberta smiled. “Mud in a cake. I saw. I saw.”

“Do that one more time and I will slap you.”

Erleen asked, “What has gotten into you, Philberta? Granted, you have been through a terrible time, but that’s no excuse for your behavior.”

“I’m sorry.”

To Nate, Philberta didn’t sound sorry at all. He made up his mind to keep a close eye on her. At the moment, though, he had the roan to think of. Too weak to stand, it was down on its front knees.

“That poor thing will die soon,” Erleen remarked.

“It must be in a lot of pain,” Tyne said.

Nate was thinking the same thing. Raising the Hawken to his shoulder, he fixed a bead between the roan’s eyes, and told the girls to look away. Someone said something, but he didn’t hear for the boom of the rifle. Bone and brains exploded, and the roan keeled onto its side.

“That was awful!” Erleen cried.

“No, it wasn’t, dear,” Peter said. “The poor animal was suffering. Mr. King put it out of its misery, is all.”

Philberta tittered merrily. “Bat, bat, come under my hat and I’ll give you a slice of bacon.”

The
smack
of Agatha’s palm on Philberta’s cheek was like the crack of a whip. Anora gasped. Tyne put a hand to her throat. But all Philberta did was take a step back, and smile.

“You really oughtn’t. That wasn’t very nice.”

“I warned you,” Aunt Aggie said.