Fear Weaver

stepped back and grinned at his silliness. He was letting every little thing spook him.

“Damn me, anyway.” Ryker sat back down. In all his years in the wild he rarely had an attack of the spooks. After he lost his ear he was a wreck for a while, but that—

Ryker caught movement in the trees, a pale form moving almost too swiftly for the eye to follow. He snatched up his rifle again and stood. The sorrel was staring in the same direction, so it wasn’t his imagination. Something was out there.

More rustling brought a nicker from the sorrel.

Ryker glimpsed another pale streak. There were two of them, and they were circling his camp. He broke out in a cold sweat. Wedging his rifle to his shoulder, he thumbed back the hammer. The click was reassuring. Whatever was out there, let them show themselves and he would blow them to hell. One thing he never was squeamish about was killing.

Then one of the things uttered a low sound, a sound unlike any Ryker ever heard. Part growl, part laugh, it seemed to come from both an animal throat and a human throat at the same time.

Ryker’s mouth went dry. He wished one of the things would come out where he could see it. They weren’t Indians, that was for sure. No Indian ever made a sound like that. He remembered tales he’d heard of ghosts and haunts and ghouls, tales he’d always dismissed as nonsense. But what if they weren’t?

On both sides of the clearing pale shapes suddenly flitted between trees. Ryker swung his rifle toward one and then the other, but he couldn’t quite make out what they were. He held his fire, wanting a clear shot.

Then the thing to his right stopped and stood stock-still, staring back at him. It stood on two legs.

“Who the hell are you?” Ryker demanded. “What do you want?”

The one on the other side stepped into sight, but well back from the firelight.

“Damn you! Say something!”

Ryker smothered an impulse to shoot. Let them come closer. They would find out they weren’t lead- proof.

The one on the right gave vent to another low growling laugh.

Ryker couldn’t make sense of their antics. They weren’t trying to hurt him. All they were doing was standing there. Almost as if they wanted to draw his attention. But the only reason for them to do that was to distract him.

From behind him came a stealthy scrape.

Ryker spun. He saw the third pale form clearly; it was coiled a yard away about to spring. Shock slowed his reflexes. He pointed his rifle, but the thing leaped and smashed the barrel aside as the rifle went off. Then it was on him, ripping and rending. He fell back, as much from horror as the blows. He was aware the other two were bounding toward him, and he desperately clawed for his pistols.

The things were incredibly quick. They were on him before he could squeeze off a shot. He fell with them on top. Blood was everywhere. His blood. A maw ringed with teeth swooped toward his throat.

Edwin Ryker screamed.

Death Gasp

Nate King came up off the bench as if hurled by invisible hands. He was at the window in three bounds. Parting the red curtains, he peered out into the night, the domino in his hand forgotten.

“What on earth?” Aunt Aggie said. She, Anora and Tyne were still at the table, dominoes spread in front of them.

“Didn’t you hear that?”

“Hear what, Mr. King?” Tyne asked.

A shot, Nate was about to say, but didn’t. It might worry them. “I’m not sure,” he hedged.

Aunt Aggie’s elbow brushed his. “You can tell me,” she whispered.

Before Nate could answer, they both heard something else. Faint and far off, it wavered on the wind like the ululating howl of a wolf. Only it wasn’t a howl. It was a scream, a very human scream, a scream of terror.

“God in heaven!” Aunt Aggie breathed. “Who could that be?”

Nate had an idea, but he stayed silent.

“Should we go investigate? Maybe we can help.”

“By the time we got there, it would be too late.”Besides which, Nate wasn’t about to go rushing off in the dark.

“What are you two listening to?” Tyne asked.

Nate closed the curtains. Aggie spared him having to lie by lying herself. “A coyote, child. A harmless coyote. Let’s get on with our game, shall we? Your mother will want to tuck you in soon. It’s getting late.”

Erleen and Peter were over by the fireplace, conversing in low tones. Fitch and Harper were sitting on their blankets playing cards. Philberta was asleep. She tossed and turned a lot, and from time to time she mumbled unintelligibly.

Nate reclaimed his seat. He matched a six with a six, and folded his arms across his chest to await his next turn. Behind him, propped against the wall within easy reach, was his Hawken. He tried not to think of the shot and the scream, but they echoed again and again in his mind.

“Are you all right, Mr. King?” Anora asked.

“Never better.” Nate swapped glances with Aggie.

Tyne was deciding which domino to play. “I want to hear more about your daughter.”

“She’s a lot like you,” Nate said. But it wasn’t entirely true. Evelyn had an inner strength the Wood-row girls lacked. They were sweet and kind and polite, but if put to the test, if confronted by a hungry bear or a hostile, they were apt to run where his daughter was more likely to put a bullet into whatever or whoever was out to do her harm.

“Does she like dolls? I have four. One I like a lot, but Mother wouldn’t let me bring it. She said it would only get lost or dirty and I could go without until we get home. But I miss it. The doll’s name is Mindy”

“When Evelyn was little her mother made a Sho-shone doll for her,” Nate revealed.

All three looked at him.

“Indians have dolls?” Anora said.

“Why wouldn’t they? Girls are the same whether they are red or white, and girls like to play with dolls and dress them up and pretend they are people.”

A shadow fell across the table and Erleen announced, “Time to end your game. I have let you stay up past your bedtime as it is.”

“But no one has won yet,” Anora said. “Can’t we stay up another half an hour?”

“No.”

“Fifteen minutes?”

“Anora Woodrow, you will put away those dominoes and get ready for bed, and I do not want to hear another word out of you. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“The wash basin is on the counter. You can change in the pantry.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Aggie began gathering up the dominoes. “Leave these for me,” she told the girls.

Nate slid his across the table. “Care for a cup of coffee?”

“This late? I wouldn’t sleep a wink.”

The pot on the stove was half full. Nate poured and went back to the table. The family was preparing for bed. The girls were as cute as buttons in their long nightdresses. Tyne’s was pink, Anora’s blue. Erleen had them kneel and say their prayers, then pulled their blankets up to their chins and pecked each on the forehead.

Fitch and Harper stopped their card game and turned in.

Nate figured it wouldn’t be long before the parents and Agatha chased sleep, but all three joined him at the table. “Something on your minds?”

Erleen coughed. “First off, we want to thank you for staying. Mr. Ryker was a terrible disappointment.”