forgotten.”
Nate King cackled and clapped McNair on the back. “That is what you get for not using English like the rest of us.”
“English!” Shakespeare roared. “Are you a simpleton? Is the Bard from Norway, then?”
“I seem to recollect he scribbled most of his lines in a place called Avon,” Nate said.
“Scribbled?”
I would swear McNair was fit to burst a vein.
That was when Blue Water Woman said quietly, “Enough, husband.”
Shakespeare turned to her, his mock outrage evaporating in a twinkling. “As you wish, love of my life.”
“Robert Parker will think your head is in a whirl,” Blue Water Woman said. “Behave yourself for a while so he can see you are sane.”
Nate snickered.
“From your heart to mine,” Shakespeare said to her quite tenderly. Then he looked at me, grinned, and winked. “But mark you, hoss. This truce is temporary.” To Nate he said, “As for you, you ox, you are lucky I don’t dunk you in the lake.”
“Do that,” I said, “and the monster might get him.”
“Heard about that thing, have you?” Shakespeare said, and faced the water.
“I saw it,” I explained. “Or, rather, the swell it caused.”
“Ah. I have seen that swell more times than I can count,” Shakespeare said. “It baffles me, and I do not like being baffled. Before the summer is done, I mean to find out what causes it.”
“How?”
McNair was about to answer when he unexpectedly stiffened and pointed at the valley rim to the east. “Look there!” he cried.
I glanced over my shoulder and spotted a flash of light, as of sunlight off metal. All the others were staring, and their faces were grim. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
It was Nate King who answered. “We have visitors, and visitors nearly always spell trouble.”
Chapter Eleven
The effect of that flash of light was remarkable.
Nate and Shakespeare rushed off to get their horses. Winona and Blue Water Woman hustled the younger women toward Nate’s cabin. I was left with Zach, who was intently watching the rim.
“Damn me for a fool.”
“Why?”
“I was careless,” Zach said. “We were followed all the way here.” He pointed. “Look! There it is again.”
Indeed, the flash was repeated in the same spot as before, only this time it persisted for several seconds before blinking out.
“What do you make of it?” I inquired.
“Whoever is up there is using a spyglass,” Zach said. “Which means they are up to no good.” He indulged in a rare burst of lurid swearing.
“You are guessing.”
“It’s a good guess,” Zach replied. “If they were friendly, why didn’t they show themselves to us on the way here?”
“They?”
“No white man would come this far into the mountains alone.”
I was thinking of his trick with the talus and the stream we had ridden in for so many miles. I reminded him of them.
“It wouldn’t shake a good tracker off our scent.”
“What will you do if you are right and you catch them?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“On who they are and why they are here,” Zach said.
“What if they refused to tell you?”
His smile was chilling. “Whether they want to or not, they will.”
Presently, his father and McNair came galloping from the cabin. I swung on my horse, which Zach had recovered, and Zach and I fell in behind them as they swept by. I must confess, I thought they were far more agitated than the occasion warranted.
That ride was something. We fairly flew around the lake. When we reached the green lodge of the Nansusequa, we stopped long enough for Nate King to inform them of what was going on. “Keep a close watch,” he said to Wakumassee. “We’ll let you know what we find.”
Then we were off again. We climbed through the heavy timber until we neared a wide cleft that turned out to be the mouth of a canyon. It was here Nate drew rein and alighted. Shakespeare was quick to join him. Bent at the waist, they scoured the ground. After a while they straightened and looked at one another, and I could tell they were puzzled.
“Deucedly strange, Horatio,” Shakespeare said.
“Or clever,” Nate responded.
Zach stirred. “There aren’t any tracks, Pa?”
“The most recent are yours and Mr. Parker’s and your packhorses,” Nate said.
“There are a few spots where the grass has been bent since but no clear prints,” Shakespeares said. “Odds are they cut up a blanket and tied the pieces over their horses’ hooves.”
Nate stepped to his mount, opened a parfleche, and took out a shiny brass tube. A flick of his wrist, and the tube telescoped into a spyglass. He spent several minutes surveying the woods and the valley floor. Finally he scowled and lowered it. “No sign of anyone.”
“They have to be somewhere,” Zach said.
“‘Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me,’” Shakespeare quoted.
I felt I must contribute, and so, motivated by my doubts, I remarked, “Perhaps we are overreacting.”
Nate King gave me a kindly smile. “Our families are here. Our loved ones. Our friends. Threats to their lives must be met swiftly.”
“But we don’t even know there is a threat,” I said.
Shakespeare wagged a finger at me. “Would you have us be like Caesar and ignore the portents? Constant vigilance is the price we must pay if we would go on living where we will.”
Part of me agreed, but another part felt a tad silly. “What now?”
“We split up,” Nate King said. “Shakespeare and I will swing to the south. Zach, you and Mr. Parker try the north. Work your way down and stay alert for sign. Fire two shots in the air if you find anything.”
I was in no mood for this. I was tired and hungry and had relished the idea of spending the rest of the day resting. But they were my hosts, I their guest, and it would be remiss of me not to help them. Still, since I cannot track, there was little I could do other than follow after Zach and watch for evidence of anything out of the ordinary.
We roved back and forth for over an hour, gradually descending until we were once again at the lake shore. Once there, Zach drew rein in disgust.
“Nothing.”
“Maybe we are mistaken,” I suggested. By “we” I meant “them,” but I was being tactful.
At that moment his father and McNair emerged from the woods to the south of the lake. Nate spotted us and waved, and they came around to meet us at Nate’s cabin. By the look on his face, it was plain they had not found the sign they were looking for.
“Not so much as a trace,” Nate confirmed.
