Fear Weaver (9 page)

Aunt Aggie chuckled. “That’s Philberta, all right. She has always been fond of them. When her boys were toddlers, she read them rhymes by the hour. I thought she overdid it, but Sully didn’t object, so I never said anything.”

Edwin Ryker picked that moment to walk up and hold out a hand to Agatha. “I’ll take the rest of my money now.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“What?” Nate said.

“Didn’t you know?” Ryker asked him. “Aggie here is paying for my services. She paid for the horses and supplies, too. Peter and Erleen couldn’t afford to do it on their own.”

“I am glad to help them,” Agatha said.

“You hired me to bring you to Sullivan. Half in
advance and the other half when I got you here. That was our deal.” Ryker bobbed his chin at the cabin. “Well, here we are. I’ll take the rest of what is owed me.”

“Are you a simpleton, Mr. Ryker?”

“Ma’am?”

“Because I know I’m not. I paid for you to bring us here and take us back. Safely, I might add.”

“There was no talk of back too. Hell, you told me you might stay with Sully’s family a month or so. You can’t expect me to wait around that long.”

“You will if you want to be paid.”

Ryker jabbed a finger at her. “Now you listen here, lady—”

Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by a shriek of terror from the direction of the stream.

“Anora!” Aunt Aggie cried.

Nate was already running. He half expected the Blackfeet were to blame. But when he came to the bank, Anora was on her knees at the water’s edge, staring aghast at the woods on the other side. “Why did you scream?”

“Something!” Anora gasped. “I didn’t get a good look at it. But it was watching me, and its face was terrible.”

Nate plunged across the stream and up the other bank. He charged into the vegetation, the brush crackling to his passage. He went a dozen strides and spotted a bulky form off through the boles. It was four-legged, whatever it was. An elk, he thought, or maybe a mountain buffalo. But it turned out to be neither.

There was the snap of underbrush, and the horse Black Elk had been riding came barreling out of the shadowy greenery to stand in front of Nate
and whinny. He grabbed the rope bridle to keep it from running off. As he did, it occurred to him that this might be a ruse, that the Blackfeet were using the horse as bait to lure one of them within arrow range.

The way Nate had the events worked out in his head, the Blackfeet had stumbled on the cabin and killed Sullivan Woodrow and his three sons. That explained the blood in the grass and Philberta’s hysterics. And now the Blackfeet intended to kill the rest of them.

“Mr. King?” Aunt Aggie called. “Are you all right?”

“Get your niece back to the cabin!” Nate pulled the horse toward the stream. To his surprise it didn’t resist. In fact, the horse acted eager to be in his company.

Ryker was waiting on the bank, and at sight of the horse, he swore. “That there belongs to a redskin. What the hell is it doing here?”

“You wanted to tangle with those Blackfeet I met,” Nate reminded him. “Could be you will get the chance.”

“It’s one of theirs?” Ryker’s flinty features gleamed with vicious glee. “And here I was ready to light a shuck.”

Nate waded the stream, pulling the horse after him. That the Blackfeet let him take it surprised him. Horses were immensely valuable to them, the most prized possessions of any warrior.

“They must have followed us without us catching on,” Ryker said.

“I think they got here ahead of us.”

“How? They didn’t beat us through the pass or we would have seen sign.” Ryker scanned the forest, his thumb on his rifle’s hammer. “Not that it matters.
Just so they show themselves. I aim to blow out their wicks, every last one of the bastards.”

Nate passed him. “Cover me,” he said, and quick-stepped toward the cabin. Ryker backed along after him. Aggie and Anora were almost there, Aggie carrying the pot Anora brought to the stream.

Nate was surprised that no war whoops pierced the gloom and arrows didn’t whiz out of the air. At the cabin he handed the reins to Ryker. “Wait with the others until I get back. Don’t let anyone come outside.”

“Where will you be?”

“Prowling around,” Nate said. But not on horseback. The dense brush made it too easy to be picked off. Sprinting around the corner, Nate angled into the woods. He was in among the trees before a feathered shaft or heavy lance could find him. Crouching, he scoured the undergrowth. If the Blackfeet were there, they blended in so well they were invisible.

Working his way with consummate care, Nate headed toward the junction of the high cliff walls. The forest was as dark and quiet as ever. He searched for tracks, human or animal, but didn’t find any. That in itself was peculiar. There should be wildlife, what with the stream. If he didn’t know better, he would think the wild things shunned the valley.

“Mr. King! Mr. King! Where are you?”

Nate drew up short. That was Tyne. He had told Ryker not to let anyone venture outdoors. Reluctantly, he pivoted on a heel and jogged back. She was a good twenty feet from the cabin, alone and unarmed, as defenseless as a fawn. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“Mother and Father sent me to find you. Aunt
Philberta has come around, and Mother wants you to hear what she has to say.”

“Where’s Ryker?”

“Mr. Ryker found a bottle in one of the cupboards. He is at the table, drinking.”

Nate’s blood boiled. Taking her hand, he ushered her inside, making sure to close the door after them. On a blanket on the other side of the room lay Philberta, Peter and Erleen on their knees beside her. Anora was making tea. Aunt Aggie, Fitch and Harper whispered together in one corner.

Ryker was at the other end of the table, and had just taken a swig. Smiling crookedly, he beckoned. “Care for a sip? It’s brandy, not whiskey, but it goes down smooth just the same.”

Nate walked over and did the last thing Ryker expected.

He hit him.

Nate King was seething mad. He’d seen too many people die because they were careless. All it took was one mistake. He was doubly incensed because Ryker had lived in the Rockies almost as long as he had and was well aware of the dangers. Yet Ryker let Tyne go out by herself.

But as mad as Nate was, he didn’t hit Ryker in the mouth, or even the face. He hit him in the chest. The blow sent Ryker tumbling from the bench.

“Mr. King!” Erleen cried.

Cursing, Ryker scrambled to his feet. “What the hell was that for?”

“I told you not to let anyone go out.”

Ryker blinked, then glanced at Tyne. “I told them not to. But her mother sent her to find you.”

“Why didn’t you come look for me instead?”

“The mother asked the girl. I’m not their nurse-maid. If they won’t listen, it’s on their shoulders.”

Nate would have torn into him again if not for Aunt Aggie. Suddenly she was between them, her hand on Nate’s chest.

“No more. Please. It’s upsetting everyone.”

The Woodrows were appalled by the violence. Erleen had her hand to her throat. Anora was wringing
her hands. Peter wore a stern look of disapproval. But what cut Nate the deepest was the bewilderment on Tyne’s face. He stepped back. “Sorry,” he said—to them, not to Ryker.

“My word!” Erleen exclaimed. “That was uncalled for. You acted like a savage.”

Nate directed his anger at her. “When will you get it through your head? This isn’t Pennsylvania. You can’t let Tyne go wandering out alone.”

“I only sent her to call you. She wasn’t to go far, and we are right here.”

Nate shook his head in disgust. Some people were too thickheaded for their own good. He was about to say as much when when Philberta stirred and groaned. The rest quickly gathered around her, with the lone exception of Ryker. He sat on the bench and glared.

Nate went over to the others.

Philberta had opened her eyes and was gazing about in confusion. She licked her thick lips with the pink tip of her tongue, then weakly said, “Where? What?”

Erleen gently squeezed her hand. “Everything is all right. You are in your cabin in the Rockies. Peter and I came to find you after we hadn’t heard from you for so long.”

“Erleen? Is it really you?”

“It’s really and truly us. All of us. We brought the whole family. Plus my sister.”

“Agatha too?”

It could be Nate’s imagination but Philberta didn’t sound happy about Aggie being there.

“She’s always been fond of Sully. You know that. She was gracious enough to foot the bill for much of the cost for our expedition.”

Philberta’s eyes roved the half circle of anxious faces and fixed on Agatha. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, dear.”

Peter bent low. “Tell us. Where is my brother? Why aren’t Sully and your boys here?”

“Give me a minute,” Philberta said. “I can’t think straight. I am all confused.”

Nate didn’t see what she had to be confused about. To him, she was stalling. But then, his wife always said he had a suspicious nature.

“Take your time,” Erleen told her. “We are here for you. Whatever you want, you only have to ask.”

“I can’t believe all of you have come so far on our behalf.”

Peter said, “The Woodrows stick by one another, come what may. Sully would be there for me if I needed help.” He gripped her wrist. “Where
is
he?”

Erleen, appalled, slapped her husband’s arm. “Let go of her! Can’t you see she is in a bad way? The poor dear has been through some sort of ordeal.”

“That I have,” Philberta said softly. “An ordeal such as none of you could possibly conceive.”

“Enlighten us,” Aunt Aggie said.

“I lost a baby.”

Nate was as shocked as the Woodrows. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ryker chuckle, and he almost went over to hit him again.

“A baby!” Erleen exclaimed. “Philberta! At your age?”

“I know, I know. It’s been fourteen years since our last. Since Blayne was born. We certainly didn’t want any more. But shortly after Sully finished building our cabin, I found I was in the family way. I was
scared, terribly scared, as I wouldn’t have a doctor or even a midwife to attend me.”

“I don’t blame you. I would have been scared too.”

“But Sully was confident everything would be fine. You should have seen him. So caring. So devoted.”

“That’s my brother for you,” Peter said proudly.

Philberta wanly smiled. “But confidence isn’t always enough. Especially when we started to go hungry.”

“What are you talking about?” Peter asked. “Sully is the best hunter I know.”

“He never had trouble keeping food on our table back in Pennsylvania, that’s for sure,” Philberta replied. “There was so much game. Deer, rabbits, squirrels, grouse, pheasant, woodchucks.” She paused. “But it turned out not to be the same here.”

“Nonsense. These mountains teem with wildlife. We saw a fair amount of animals with our own eyes.”

“So did we, at first. But it wasn’t as easy as Sully thought it would be. The black-tailed deer aren’t as plentiful as the whitetails used to be. And the smaller game was the same.”

“What about elk?” Erleen asked.

“They are a lot higher up, and wary. There are squirrels and rabbits, but not nearly as plentiful as we were used to.”

Nate could have told them. A lot of Easterners assumed it was as easy to fill the supper pot west of the Mississippi as it was east of the Mississippi. But they were mistaken. Yes, there was a lot of wildlife, but not as much. Yes, deer were deer, but blacktails were a lot more wary than their eastern cousins, and a lot harder to hunt and bring down.

“Sully did his best. And our boys helped. Norton
was eighteen. Liford seventeen. Blayne fourteen. They could all hunt. They went out with Sully day after day but too often all of them came home empty-handed.”

“Preposterous.”

“Let her talk, Peter,” Erleen said.

“With five mouths to feed and a baby on the way, it got so we were missing meals. We had to eat whatever we could. Sully told us to watch the animals. Whatever they ate would be safe for us.”

Nate frowned. There it was again. The ridiculous notion that was so widespread people took it as gospel.

“We got sickly, though. I was worst of all. Probably because of the baby Sully made me stay in bed. He had the boys do the chores, the sweeping and cooking and whatnot. But I grew weaker and weaker.” Philberta stopped, and shuddered. “Finally the day came.” She looked up at Erleen and tears filled her eyes. “It was a girl. She was stillborn.”

“Dear God.”

“We buried her out back and got on with our lives. Sully was so sweet. But he was worried too. We all were. Between him and my sons, they pretty much hunted all the game in our valley. They had to go farther and farther afield, and left me alone for days at a time.”

Erleen stroked her brow. “You poor dear.”

“Then Sully shot a bull elk. They butchered it and brought the meat home and for a while we had plenty to eat. Thick, juicy steaks, smothered in mushrooms and greens. They dried a lot of the meat for jerky. We thought the worst was over.” Philberta took a deep breath. “Then Norton disappeared.”

“No!”

“He told us he had found Indian sign. He was going to show Sully the next day, but that evening he went out and didn’t come back. We never saw him again.”

“Surely there was some sign of what happened to him?” Peter asked.

“Sully took Liford and Blayne and they searched for Norton for days. But they didn’t find him.”

Nate had a few questions that needed asking. He interrupted with, “What about that Indian sign?”

“Pardon?” Philberta craned her neck and rose slightly to see him. “Who are you? I’ve never seen you before.”

“This is Mr. King,” Erleen said. “A mountain man who helped us find your cabin.”

“Oh. What was it you wanted to know?”

“You mentioned Indian sign. Did your husband and your other sons find any when they were out?”

“No. None.” Philberta sniffled. “We were all so sad, losing Norton. Sully made us stay close to the cabin. And pretty soon practically all our elk meat was gone. They had to go hunt again, and that was when Liford vanished.”