A string of swear words blistered my ears as I weaved through the aspens with all the speed I could muster. I risked a look over my shoulder to see if Cutter was after me.
He was.
I had never seen anyone so furious. His face was so red, it was virtually purple. Rage contorted his features. His eyes were filled with red lines, and his nostrils were distended. His chest rose and fell in great gasps.
I am not fleet of foot. Under ordinary circumstances, Cutter would have caught me with no difficulty. But he was severely wounded, and his wound slowed him. I, on the other hand, was spurred by my fear. I ran for all I was worth. Reaching deep down inside of me, I called on reserves of stamina I did not know I had.
“Come back!” Jess Hook bellowed. “You are in no shape for a foot race, you damned fool!”
My adversary paid no heed. He wanted me dead, and he would stop at nothing until he achieved that end.
As if to confirm it, Cutter screeched, “I am going to kill you! Kill you, kill you, kill you!”
Jess Hook did not come after us. Maybe he thought Cutter would be mad if he did, although how Cutter could get any madder was beyond me. I ran and ran, Cutter never more than a few steps behind me. One slip of my foot and he would be on me, stabbing and slicing.
I kept glancing back to be sure he was not gaining. Along about the tenth or eleventh time, I rounded an aspen, and there, directly in front of me, was another. I tried to veer to the right but the tree was too close. I slammed into it and the impact knocked me off my feet.
The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back, dazed and in agony, and Cutter was standing over me, sucking air, half his shirt bright scarlet, his knife poised to finish me off. He grinned in triumph. “I have never wanted to kill anyone so much in my entire life.”
I had dropped my knife when I hit the tree. Unarmed and unable to rise, I was as good as done for.
Cutter tensed for the fatal thrust. Suddenly blood trickled from a corner of his mouth, and then from the other corner. A strange look came over him. “No!” he exclaimed, and staggered back a step. “Not like this!” He steadied himself and again raised the knife, only to have a river of red gush over his lower lip.
I was stupefied. Belatedly, it occurred to me that this was a result of my stabbing him. He should have listened to Jess Hook.
I pushed against the ground and sat up. My hand came down on a familiar object, and a second later I held the knife Blue Water Woman had given me. But I did not use it. There was no need.
Cutter’s arms had drooped and his chin had dipped to his chest. He groaned, then attempted to speak. But all that came out was a frothy gurgle. His legs buckled and he slowly sank to his knees.
I just as slowly stood. “Do you see what comes of being evil?”
Cutter opened and closed his mouth a few times but all that came out was more blood. A fit of coughing doubled him over. When it ended, he spat and looked up at me. “I can’t tell you how much I hate you.”
“Do you want those to be your last words?” I asked.
They were. Life fled from Cutter’s eyes. Like pudding poured into a bowl, he oozed to the earth, quivered and was still.
I mopped my forehead with my sleeve. My relief, though, was short-lived. I abruptly remembered Blue Water Woman was at Jess Hook’s mercy.
She needed me.
My legs were leaden, but I willed them to move. Each second was an eternity of anxiety. When, at last, I came in sight of Jess Hook’s horse, my worry knew no bounds; he was not on it. I sped past more aspens and saw him, on his knees beside Blue Water Woman. She had not revived, and he was slapping her to bring her around.
“Wake up, squaw! I want you to feel it when I do you!”
When it comes to stealth I am a blind cow. But by stepping on the balls of my feet and watching for twigs, I crept within fifteen feet of him without him being aware. He slapped Blue Water Woman twice more, and suddenly she was staring up at him as calmly as you please.
“You have hit me enough.”
Jess Hook laughed. “Hell, I am just getting started. For what you did to Jordy you will die a tiny piece at a time.”
I slunk forward, hoping I could get close enough to use the knife. But
“We will start with your legs and work up. Feel free to scream all you want. No one will hear.”
I cleared my throat. “I would rather you didn’t do that.”
Jess spun, his legs spread wide, ready to shoot. Astonishment rendered him mute but only for a few seconds. “You!” he blurted. “Where is Cutter?”
“Dead,” I said.
“Not in a million years, mister. Where is he really?”
“Wherever scum like him go to when they give up the ghost.” I was trying to provoke him, and I succeeded. He took a step toward me, his finger curling around the trigger.
“If you are not blowing smoke, then I get to make worm food of both of you.” Jess tucked his rifle to his shoulder. “You I’ll do quick. Smack between the eyes.”
Once again I stared death in the face.
Then it happened.
I saw the whole thing.
Blue Water Woman’s arm appeared between Jess Hook’s legs. Her hand rose to his belt and wrapped around a pistol. He felt her yank it free, and gave a start. Before he could think to grab it, she pressed the muzzle to his groin, the barrel angled up, and fired.
Stars sparkled in the firmament later that night. In the distance a wolf howled. The night was pleasantly cool this high up.
I took a sip of steaming hot coffee. “You are leaving it up to me? Whether we go back down or stay so I can paint and sketch?”
“Whichever you like,” Blue Water Woman said. “After what we have been through, I imagine you can use some rest.”
“It shows how little you know me,” I teased. “Bring on the paint and the canvas.”
“You are strange, Robert Parker,” Blue Water Woman said.
“Strange as in special?”
“No. Strange as in male. All men are. But we women put up with you.”
Her smile made me warm all over.
Postscript
According to his journal, Robert Parker spent three more weeks in King Valley. He named the yellow-crowned kinglet in honor of his hosts.
Nate King took him back to Bent’s Fort. There, Parker solved the mystery of the horse covered with blood.
Augustus Trevor had been concerned for the naturalist’s welfare, and followed him, intending to keep an eye on him without Parker being aware. What Trevor did not know was that the Hook brothers and Cutter were also shadowing Parker and Zach. To keep Trevor from interfering, one of them shot him in the back. They saw him fall, but when they reached the spot, they could not find his body. From the amount of blood they assumed he would die, and they rode on. But frontiersmen were a hardy breed, and Augustus Trevor was one of the hardiest. Emaciated almost to the point of starvation, he made it to Bent’s Fort. The rest of Parker’s party immediately set out after him. Since no one, not even St. Vrain, knew how to find King Valley, they had no recourse but to return to the trading post and await his return.
