Fear Weaver (13 page)

Dear God
, Nate thought.

Philberta abruptly stood. “A fond adieu to sweet little you.” She laughed, and merrily whirled, and seeing him, she recoiled as if she had been slapped. “What have we hear, my dear?”

For the life of him, Nate couldn’t think of what to say.

“An eavesdropper, I fear.”

Nate forced his mouth to move. “I’m sorry to intrude.”

“Did you find my Sully?”

“No,” Nate lied.

“Or my dear, sweet boys?”

Nate shook his head.

Philberta’s hands rose from her waist. In her right hand was a long-bladed knife. “I can’t say as I like that one little bit.”

Nate King thought Philberta Woodrow was about to attack him. She had a certain gleam in her eyes, a gleam he had only ever seen in the eyes of warriors in the fierce heat of battle or in the eyes of wild beasts driven berserk. Instinctively he leveled the Hawken. “Don’t.”

Philberta stopped. She trembled slightly and the gleam faded. “Why Mr. King,” she said, as calmly as could be. “Why are you pointing that thing at me?”

Nate didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry if I acted a little distraught. Visiting Esther’s grave always makes me near mad with grief. Surely you can understand?”

“Yes,” Nate admitted. He would feel the same if he lost either of his children. They were part of him, given life and form.

Philberta waggled the knife. “As for this thing, I didn’t think it wise to come unarmed. And Aggie needs the guns to protect the girls.”

“I’m surprised she let you come out at all.”

“Agatha isn’t my keeper,” Philberta said testily. “I had been cooped up inside so long, I needed air.” She gazed sadly down at the grave. “That, and I do so miss Esther. Granted, she came into this world dead.
But she was my daughter, Mr. King. Had she lived, she would have been the light of my life. To think! A daughter, after all these years.” She appeared about to cry.

Nate quickly changed the subject. “How are Tyne and Anora holding up?”

Jerking her head away from the mound of dirt, Philberta said, “Remarkably well. Children adapt better than adults. So long as they are fed and comfortable, they can endure most anything.”

“After you,” Nate said, motioning. He let her go by, then snagged the bay’s reins and led it around front. To his dismay the door was wide open and no one was standing guard.

“Girls! Agatha!” Philberta hollered.

Aunt Aggie came out, holding a rifle. She smiled warmly at the sight of Nate. “You are the first one back. How did your search go?”

“I will wait and say when the others are here.”

Tyne and Anora emerged, Tyne squealing in delight and dashing up to give Nate a warm hug.

“I was worried about you, Mr. King. I don’t want you to disappear like my Uncle Sully.”

The image of Sullivan’s ravaged face floated before Nate, and his stomach churned. “I intend to be on this earth a good long while yet, young one. I have a family of my own I very much want to see again.”

Anora said, “I hope Mother and Father are all right.”

“And Fitch and Harper,” Aunt Aggie reminded her. “Don’t forget your brothers.” To Nate she said, “Are you staying, or are you going out again? I can fix a meal if you are hungry.”

After the horror of the cave, Nate had no appetite.

“A cup of coffee would be nice. Then I have more searching to do.”

They all went in and Nate made sure to shut the door after them. “You shouldn’t leave this open like you did. The things that killed Sully could sneak right in.”

“I left it open in case Philberta needed us and called out for help,” Aunt Aggie explained. “What do you mean by ‘things’? And how do you know Sullivan is dead if we haven’t found his body yet?”

Nate noticed that Philberta had given him a sharp glance. “We don’t know what is behind all this,” he said, angry at his lapse. “But we can’t be too careful.” He bobbed his head toward the girls to stress his point.

“I would die before I would let harm come to them,” Agatha said. “But your point is well taken. Philberta will just have to stay inside with the rest of us from now on.”

“Honestly,” was Philberta’s response, and she turned away.

Nate placed his Hawken on the table and sank onto a bench. Anora brought a cup of steaming coffee and bowed slightly as a maid might do as she set the cup and a saucer down.

“For you, kind sir.”

Nate grinned. “I thank you, gentle lady.”

Giggling, Anora scooted over to Tyne, who was poking a stick at the flames in the fireplace.

“The girls are bored, I am afraid,” Aunt Aggie said. “They don’t think it fair that their brothers got to go out and they didn’t.”

“They’re safer here.”

Aggie pulled out the chair across from him. “I wholeheartedly agree. I am only saying.”

Philberta joined them, remarking, “This is rough on all of us. On me, most of all. I’m the one who lost a husband and a daughter.”

“Don’t forget your three sons,” Nate said.

“Them too, of course.” Philberta placed the knife in front of her, the hilt close to her hand.

Aunt Aggie sighed in sympathy. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t know how you held up so long. The terror of being in this place alone would be more than I could bear.”

“Oh, pshaw,” Philberta said. “You are stronger than you let on. I’ve always thought you were hardier than Erleen could ever be.”

“She is no weakling,” Agatha said in defense of her sister.

“Perhaps,” Philberta said. “But I can’t help think that if it were her husband and sons, she would be in hysterics by now.”

“You never did like her much.”

“And she has never liked me. I overheard her tell Peter once that as a sister-in-law I leave a lot to be desired.”

“Ladies,” Nate interrupted, “this isn’t the time or place for family squabbles. We are all in this together.”

“True,” Aggie said.

Philberta shrugged. “No one asked you to come. Not that I’m ungrateful. But you would be smart to leave while you can.”

“That’s the thanks we get for caring?” Aunt Aggie bristled. “For putting our lives at risk to save yours?”

“You have my undying gratitude. But I don’t want to lose all of you, too. And I mean that sincerely.”

Nate sipped his coffee and felt it burn a path down
his throat. “Have you seen any sign of Indians the whole time you were here?”

The question gave Philberta a start, but she recovered quickly. “No. No Indians at all. Why do you ask?”

“The Utes are to the southeast, the Nez Perce to the north. The Shoshones live northeast of your valley, other tribes to the west. A hunting party might have happened by and paid you a visit.”

“If any Indians knew we were here, they never showed themselves. And I am glad they didn’t. I don’t like Indians, Mr. King. They are despicable and mean. But what else can we expect from people who live like animals?”

“Philberta,” Aggie said softly.

“What?”

“My wife is Shoshone,” Nate said. “Maybe you didn’t know that.”

“No, I didn’t,” Philberta said. “But it wouldn’t change my opinion. Perhaps she is the sweetest woman in the world, but she is still a heathen, is she not? She doesn’t believe in God Almighty.”

“Since when did you become so religious?” Agatha asked.

“I am speaking in general.”

Nate held his resentment in check. “Her people call God the Great Mystery or the Great Medicine. Many are as religious as you can ever hope to be.”

“Belief in a false god isn’t religion. Why haven’t you converted her? Don’t you care that she will burn in hell?”

“Philberta!” Aggie said severely.

“I would be remiss not to bring it up. If he loves this Shoshone, he should want her to change her heathen ways.”

Nate’s coffee had lost its savor. He set down his cup, picked up his rifle, and stood. “I should be going. Expect me back by sunset.”

“Finish your coffee, at least,” Agatha urged.

“Yes, please do,” Philberta said. “I am sorry if my strong talk upset you. But it was for your own good. And for your Shoshone’s.”

“Her name is Winona.”

“A pretty name. But I could never marry an Indian, Mr. King. As for loving one, well, to each their own. I would as soon marry a bear as some greasy buck who spends his days lifting white scalps and his nights scratching himself.”

“Philberta!”

Nate headed for the door. He decided he didn’t like Philberta Woodrow. He didn’t like her at all. “I’ll go check on the others.”

“Be careful, Mr. King,” Tyne said.

Aunt Aggie followed him outside. “Pay no attention to Philberta. She has always been that way.”

“I’ve met her kind before,” Nate said. “The ones who think the only good Indian is a dead Indian.”

“There is hate on both sides. It’s deplorable, but what can we do? Too much blood has been shed. I’m not a bigot like Philberta, but I sometimes think we won’t have true peace until all the Indians are on reservations.”

“I hope it never comes to that.” Nate climbed on the bay and gripped the reins.

“What would you do if war ever broke out between the Shoshones and the whites?” Aunt Aggie asked.

“It never will. The Shoshones are the friendliest tribe on the frontier.”

“But if it did. Whose side would you be on?”

“My own. I would do what I thought best for everyone.”

Aunt Aggie smiled. “You’ve chosen a hard path, Nate King.”

“I’ve followed my heart. And I have no complaints, Agatha. My wife is as fine a woman as ever lived. My children try my patience at times, but they are blood of my blood, and I will stand by all three of them, come whatever may.”

“I envy them.”

“Remember to keep the door closed.” Nate wheeled the bay and crossed the clearing to the stream. Fitch and Harper were supposed to be on the other side, scouring their half of the valley. It wasn’t long before he found their tracks, and within the hour he spotted the brothers near the cliffs. Unlike the other side of the valley, here there were no bones and no maggot-infested remains.

“Mr. King!” Fitch said as Nate rode up.

“Find anything?”

Both boys shook their heads, their weariness apparent.

“We’ve looked and looked and haven’t come across any sign of Uncle Sully or our cousins,” Harper said.

“We’re afraid we’ll never see them again,” Fitch said. “I liked our cousins, too. Norton was the same age as me.”

“Don’t stay at it too much longer,” Nate warned. “Be at the cabin before dark.”

“We’ll try. But we want to cover this whole side of the valley today, if we can.”

“Do as I say,” Nate directed. He felt guilty not telling them about what he found. They were old enough
to handle it. “Can the two of you keep a secret for the time being?”

“Hope to die if we don’t,” Fitch said.

“I’m serious. It would upset your sisters. I intended to tell your mother and father first and let them tell the rest of you, but you should know.” Nate paused. “I found your Uncle Sully. Or what’s left of him. He was killed just like that elk and the Blackfoot.”

The brothers looked at one another.

“You did?” Harper exclaimed. “He was? But what killed them, Mr. King? What kind of animal tore that elk apart? And gouged out that redskin’s eye like that?”

Nate hesitated. He could be wrong. “It might not have been an animal,” was as far as he was willing to commit himself.

“What then? Hostiles? We haven’t sign of any.”

“I think that whatever”—Nate caught himself—“or whoever killed your uncle is still here. I think they are biding their time and will strike when our guard is down.” He gazed at the still-bright sky. “It could be they are waiting for the sun to set. I suspect they like the dark more than the day.”

“Who are these ‘they’ you keep talking about?” Fitch asked.

“What tribe do they belong to?” From Harper.

“I never said they were Indians.”

“Who else, then? Are you saying they are white men? A band of cutthroats and killers?”

“They might be white, yes. The important thing is that they will kill you if they get their hands on you, so whatever you do, don’t give them the chance.”

“We aren’t infants.”

“Neither are they.”

On that note, Nate left. He recrossed the stream, passing close to the cabin to make sure the front door was closed. It took a while to find Peter’s and Erleen’s tracks. They had gone toward the open end of the valley. He figured they were on their way back by now and he would meet them halfway. But he was almost to the end of the valley himself when he heard a strange sort of
thuk-thuk-thuk
, as if someone were striking the ground. A dozen yards further, and he came on a small clearing. In the center, digging with a branch, was Peter. Over to the left stood Erleen, holding the reins to their horses. Neither noticed him, and he couldn’t help but think how easy it would be to kill them. Drawing rein, he cleared his throat.

“Nate!” Erleen hurried over. “I am so glad to see you! You won’t believe what we found.”

Peter had stopped digging and was mopping his brow with a sleeve. “Who, not what, my dear.” He motioned at a blanket draped over a prone form.

“See for yourself,” Erleen urged. “But be warned. You need a strong stomach. I am afraid mine wasn’t strong enough.”

Nate dismounted. “Where did you find him?”

“You’ve guessed, then?” Peter motioned again. “We found him right where he is. It appears he was dragged here from higher up.”

The body of Edwin Ryker had been literally ripped to pieces.

“What did that to him?” Erleen anxiously asked. “What in God’s name are we up against?”

Before Nate could reply, from far down the valley, from the vicinity of the cabin, there came a scream of mortal terror.

Fear raced through Nate King’s veins as he galloped headlong along the trail. To him, the screamer had sounded like Tyne. But it could just as well have been Anora or one of the women.

Nate was worried they had opened the front door and left it open. He imagined the lurkers in the woods creeping across the clearing and bursting inside before the women had a chance to arm themselves. It would all be over in minutes. Aggie, Tyne, Anora, Philberta, they would all end up like Sullivan and Ryker.