In the Season of the Sun (38 page)

“Go, child. You have followed your hurt. Now it is time to follow your heart,” Two Stars said. “And find where it leads.”

Moonlight in Ever Shadow …

A man and a woman stood together on a hillside where the ponderosa pines fractured the moonlight into beams of purest silver. It was told in campfire tales that men had wandered these paths of light and found the All-Father only to be blinded by the truth.

Tewa and Jacob had heard the stories by Blackfoot campfires and resisted the temptation to follow the moonlight. They were content with earthbound passion. They clung to desire, held and healed each other in the oneness they felt.

Tewa brought her blanket, as Jacob had given his shirt to cradle his brother's head, and his blanket, that Tom might rest in comfort. She knew he was cold.

Jacob said, “It is I who should offer a place in my blanket to you.”

“It is the way,” Tewa conceded. “But then you might freeze to death before you ever came to me.”

“You have said it,” Jacob replied. He accepted the blanket, wrapped it around his shoulders and then over Tewa as she drew close.

They faced the valley and the moon-dappled creek that wound through the pass before sinking back into the soil. Jacob half expected to see a column of armed trappers appear in the valley, dogging their trail. He didn't look forward to a last stand on the hillside.

But nothing stirred save the wind in the buffalo grass and a night-hunting owl searching for dinner. Jacob watched and knew comfort in Tewa's closeness. Her presence helped. He had been terribly worried throughout the two-day ride from Fort Promise. Tom had lost a lot of blood from the gash on the side of his head. Now that he'd come around, Jacob had one less concern. But there was still the matter of Lone Walker. Somehow, deep within, he sensed that Lone Walker still lived. And Jacob would not rest until he learned the fate of the man he had grown to love as a father.

“What will we do now?” Tewa was ready and willing to make her stand wherever and whenever Jacob decided.

“I don't know,” Jacob admitted. “You, me, a blind man, and my brother, who might just try to kill me when he wakens again. Quite an army.”

“I am glad I am here,” Tewa said. She lifted her eyes to the starry firmament. High wispy clouds scudded across the moon's cold stare. Was her father there, among the clouds, a rider in the sky? Jacob had not killed him. Wolf Lance had been destroyed by his dreams. Tewa understand that now and she was free from the blood debt, free to walk the circle of life again, free to love, free to stand by Jacob, free to fight and, if need be, to die at his side.

Moonlight in Ever Shadow …

43

D
reams die at sunrise. Tom Milam roused himself from his blankets. Smoke curled from the ashes of the campfire; lazy gray spirals rose up through the branches of the pines. Tewa and her grandfather were huddled in sleep. Jacob dozed as he squatted by the campfire. He'd propped himself upright on his Hawken rifle. His head bobbed on his chest, rising and falling with every breath.

The forest woke quietly to the morning sun. Birds stirred; the creatures of the forest stole down into the valley and made their way to the spring-fed creek.

Tom rolled from his bedroll and crawled on hands and knees to Jacob's side. He chose each movement, moving slowly, cautiously ignoring the ache in his skull. He spied what he was looking for by Jacob's leg, a heavy bore percussion pistol lying on the ground within easy reach of Jacob and now, Tom. He leaned forward. His fingers inched closer to the walnut and brass gun butt. He had to be careful, for the slightest noise would—

“Be careful, it's loaded,” Jacob said.

Tom gave a start and drew back. He regarded Jacob with unabashed respect. “You're good.”

“I had a good teacher.” Jacob picked up the pistol and passed it across to Tom.

“So did I.” Tom sensed a second pair of eyes carefully studying him and glanced in Tewa's direction. She peered at him through slitted eyelids. There was no telling how long she'd been awake. He half cocked the pistol, removed the firing cap, and lowered the hammer, all for her benefit. His actions seemed to satisfy her, for Tewa closed her eyes once more and pulled her blanket up to her chin.

It was obvious she intended to allow the brothers a moment of privacy. Tom returned his attention to the white Indian squatting opposite the campfire. Like two strangers thrown together by fate and uncertain of what to say, they hesitated and remained silent, allowing the moment to find its own resolution.

“I had a dream,” Tom said, reliving a moment etched into his brain cells. “I've had it before, about being ten and hiding in the tall grass, waiting for you to come back, Jacob. Only you never showed. Kilhenny did though. The dream's always been the same.” Tom eased back on his heels and stared down at the smoldering remains of the campfire. “This time his hand was all covered with blood. The innocent blood of my father and mother.” Tom met his brother's gaze. “Yet he saved my life. Even Kilhenny isn't all bad.” He shook his head. “Just bad enough.” He wiped a forearm across his suddenly red-rimmed eyes and cleared his throat. “Hell, I should have known it long ago. Of course, I didn't want to. That made all the difference.”

He lifted a water bag to his parched lips and drank deeply.

“I don't know what to say,” Jacob admitted.

“Don't,” Tom said. “We took different turns a helluva long time ago. What's the use in kidding ourselves; there isn't any going back. You know it as well as I.”

“Then what's left?” Jacob asked, stung by the realization that what his brother said was true.

“Vengeance,” Tom Milam answered. His eyes glittered with anticipation. Coyote Kilhenny had been a resourceful teacher; it was time Tom put those lessons into practice.

“I don't understand,” Jacob replied.

“First of all, I have to escape from you,” Tom said, rubbing his hands in anticipation. “And you'll need to tell me as much as possible about the lay of the land surrounding the village.” Tom outlined his plan to bring Kilhenny into the same kind of trap he was so fond of setting for others. It was a chilling experience, listening to Tom coldly devise his plan. He spoke without passion, detailing his deceit. Jacob listened and agreed with the plan. He wanted Coyote Kilhenny to pay for the massacre of the Milam party as well as the slaughter at Fort Promise. He hated Kilhenny and was determined to bring the half-breed to some kind of justice.

But Tom seemed wholly dispassionate. Kilhenny had spared his life, had raised him, and now Tom intended to betray him. He should have been enraged at learning the truth about Coyote Kilhenny. That part of his humanity seemed to have been excised during the night. Perhaps all that remained of the brother Jacob knew was the ring dangling from the chain about his neck.

“With Kilhenny out of the way,” Tom said, “the men at the fort will follow me. If there's an empire to be carved out of this land, I'll be the one who does the whittling.”

“The fort goes. This is Blackfoot country.”

“We'll see,” Tom said.

“See it burned to the ground,” Jacob said.

“Be a shame for brothers to lock horns.” Tom gingerly touched the makeshift bandage circling his skull. “Of course, we already did that once. You won the first round.”

“My people will not allow the fort to remain.”

“Your people?” Tom said. “My God, look at your skin, your hair and eyes.”

“Look at my heart,” Jacob replied.

“Then once Kilhenny's out of the way, we might just wind up peering at each other through powder smoke.” If it bothered Tom that he might be going up against his own brother, he hid such misgivings well.

“You can tell your woman to open her eyes now. She doesn't need to pretend to sleep any longer.” Tom stood, wavered for a moment, then regained his balance. “I'll fetch my horse,” he said. “Then I better pack some grub and get going.”

It took Tom longer than he expected to saddle his horse. He had to pause now and then to endure a few seconds of nausea. Each time he willed away the attack and pressed on with the task at hand. His mount shuddered and behaved skittishly amid the strange sights and smells of an Indian camp.

Tom looked over his shoulder once and noticed Tewa sitting on a fallen log, watching his every action. She was a pretty thing, he concluded, though he preferred his women without wolf-pelt cowls and ten-foot-long spears. He winked at the Blackfoot woman. Tewa dug the blunt end of her spear into the earth at her feet and pretended not to notice him. Tom laughed and tightened his saddle cinch.

Jacob came toward him from the opposite side of the clearing. He held out a second pistol to Tom, who nodded his thanks and tucked the weapon in his belt. His coat was torn along the side and his knees poked through his trousers. His scuffle with Jacob had taken its toll. He wasn't used to coming off second best in a fight.

“Maybe you ought to rest more,” Jacob suggested. “It's been a long time, maybe we could talk.”

“Sure. We could talk about old times. Hell, Jacob, we don't have any old times.”

“I didn't mean—”

“Or maybe we might discuss the missing years, the time I was being raised by my father's murderer. And I'd sure like to hear how many white scalps you've lifted since you took to wearing war paint!” Tom stepped back and appraised his older brother. “Quit trying to bring something back that can never be. Since the day I waited for you, alone and scared out on the plain, we've cut different trails. And there just isn't any crossing the ground between.”

Tom reached out and took the parfleche of dried meat and fry bread Jacob had prepared for him.

“I aim to bring Kilhenny down for what he did,” Tom said. “You be watching the trail. I'll lead Kilhenny right to your Medicine Lake. You got a place to trap him?”

“A gap leading to the valley.”

“I know the place.”

“You do?” Jacob asked, surprised.

“I scouted it,” Tom proudly claimed. “Nobody saw me, but I saw you. Darn near blew your head off.”

“Lucky you recognized me.”

“Lucky I couldn't get a clear shot.” Tom swung up into the saddle. “Be seeing you, brother.” He walked his mount through the dancing dust of a spring morning. Jacob watched and could say no more. Words held no power over the sense of loss he felt.

44

“R
ider coming in,” the man on the wall shouted down to another trapper lounging by the front gate. The man by the gate straightened and picked up his rifle.

“Who is it?”

“Don't know. He's got the sun at his back.”

Indeed, the rider seemed to be coming directly out of the ruby-colored sunset. Molten crimson clouds billowing overhead transformed a simple solitary stranger into a rider of brimstone, a fugitive from perdition.

“Use your spyglass,” the gatekeeper called.

“I am, damn it, I am,” the lookout retorted.

“Shit. Are you sure there is only one? Could be a whole passel of them Blackfeet.” The gatekeeper checked his rifle. Then he propped the rifle against the wall and swung the gates together.

“Hold on, you fool. It ain't no Injuns.”

“C'mon down here and call me a fool, you lop-eared mule.”

“Well, I'll be a son of a bitch!” the lookout exclaimed. “I don't believe my eyes!”

The gatekeeper stood in the entranceway and shielded his eyes, curiosity getting the better of him. “I can't see a …” the complaint died on his lips as the rider materialized out of the sunset's shimmering light. The rider's shadow stretched before the hooves of his horse and at last engulfed the surly gatekeeper, who watched in slack-jawed amazement as if he were seeing a ghost.

Coyote Kilhenny leaned on the table, his wide girth overshadowing the scraps of food remaining on his plate. His right hand opened and closed in a fist every time he tried to make a point.

“Grieving is one thing,” Kilhenny said, exasperated by an argument he'd been pursuing for the better part of an hour. He wanted Abigail Harveson to leave on the riverboat with Mose Smead. She refused to go. “Your brother's been in the ground three days and its fetched you. Even Captain Smead here thinks you'd be better off back in Independence.”

Kilhenny leaned back as Thalia took his plate away. A clutter of antelope ribs, gnawed clean, showed he approved of her cooking.

“I'd buy that darky if you'd name a fair price.”

Abigail glared at him, her distaste evident. “The Harvesons do not own people. All our servants are free and work for living quarters, board, and wages. It's the way it's always been and the way it always will be.”

“You show real beauty when you're on the prod.” Kilhenny grinned, then turned serious. “Look. It'll be hard for me to pacify these here savages while having to worry about the safety of a white woman.”

“Aaa-hhh!” Thalia screamed and dropped a platter of biscuits. Abigail, Kilhenny, and Mose Smead glanced up in surprise, caught off guard and alarmed by the cook's outburst.

“I'll worry about the safety of this white woman,” Tom Milam said, riding up in the waning light of the afternoon. Several of the trappers had followed him through the front gates eager to hear how he'd escaped the clutches of the Blackfeet. He slid out of the saddle and handed the reins to Dog Bill Hanna, standing among the men.

“Blast and by damn!” Kilhenny roared, slammed his fist on the wood, and almost overturned the table as he stood.

Abigail brought her hand to her mouth, both elated at Tom's arrival and horrified at the freshly scabbed gash and discolored flesh marring his features. If they had been alone, she would have run to him.

Tom didn't know what to expect or what he would feel when he came face-to-face with Coyote Kilhenny. Now the moment had arrived and the numbness that shrouded his heart made him feel stone-cold dead, within and without. Kilhenny's hand was stained with the blood of innocents. Tom felt more alone than ever before. His parents were dead. The one man he had grown to trust was a Judas. And Jacob, though alive, had become one of the savages Tom considered an enemy. Tom looked at Abigail, and her eyes settled his weary spirit. He could have watched her for the rest of the evening.