Seed of Evil

“Not so loud or they’ll hear you and wonder what I’m up to.”

“Sorry?”

Toad glanced around as if he was afraid. In a whisper he said, “If I give you something, will you get it to Nate King?”

“Give me what?” Chases Rabbits asked.

Toad reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded sheet. “This.”

“It called paper.” Chases Rabbits had seen paper before, at the King cabin.

“It’s a message for him and him alone. No one else is to read it. Can you do that?”

“I can do, yes.”

Toad gripped Chases Rabbits’s wrist so hard it hurt. “You don’t realize how important this is. Important for your people and important for you.”

“I can do,” Chases Rabbits repeated, disturbed at how upset the man was.

“Take it,” Toad said, and started to put the paper in Chases Rabbits’ hand.

“What’s going on here?”

Toad gave a start.

Chases Rabbits saw him quickly lower the paper behind his leg, adopt a broad smile, and turn. He did the same, bewildered as to what was going on.

“I asked you a question,” Petrie said to Toad. “What are you two up to?”

“Nothing much,” Toad responded.

Petrie came down the aisle and looked from one of them to the other. “Suppose you tell me, Crow.”

“My name Chases Rabbits.”

“I know what the hell it is. What I don’t know is what he was whispering to you about.”

Toad said, “He asked if I had any spyglasses to sell and I told him I didn’t.”

“Is that true?” Petrie asked.

Chases Rabbits tried to recall if he knew what a spyglass was. Then he remembered the fabulous brass tube Nate King owned that could bring far objects up close. “I want spyglass many winters.” Which was true; he’d desired one ever since Nate let him look through his.

Petrie sniffed and wheeled, making for the entrance.

“That was close,” Toad said. “If they catch me with this, my goose is cooked.”

Chases Rabbits’s mother had plucked and roasted geese a few times. Grouse, too. And quail. Even an owl once. “Better cooked than raw.”

Toad didn’t seem to hear him. He glanced down at the folded paper. “Perhaps I should rethink this. Breathing is better than not breathing.”

“Breathing good,” Chases Rabbits agreed.

“I have a better idea. Bring Nate King here. Will you do that for me? I’ll give you a pistol for your very own if you do.”

Chases Rabbits tingled with excitement. Few Crow warriors owned rifles; fewer still owned a rifle and a pistol. “Me happy bring him.”

“If he wants to know what it’s about,” Toad said, “tell him there are foxes in the chicken coop.”

“You have chickens?” Chases Rabbits would like a few. Their eggs were delicious.

Toad gripped the front of his shirt. “Swear to me by all you hold holy that you’ll bring him. Bring him just as fast as you can.”

“I do for you,” Chases Rabbits promised, wondering why it was so urgent.

“Good.” Toad shoved the paper into his pocket. “Because if you don’t, you’ll be sorry.” He lumbered away.

His mind in a jumble, Chases Rabbits went out. He stared at the new lodge the women were in and wished he could talk to Raven On The Ground before he left. But Toad had been clear he must hurry. So he climbed on his horse and rode west, hoping Raven On The Ground would forgive him for leaving without saying good-bye and that she would be all right until he got back.

Louisa King loved her husband dearly. She loved him passionately. She loved him with all that she was—yet there were times when he did things that drove her to distraction. Little things, like always expecting her to clean up after they ate. His pa, Nate, helped Winona, but Zach wouldn’t wash a pan or a plate unless she practically begged him. And there were the big things, like the time she had to endure the terror of Zach being put on trial for murder.

She never knew what to expect next. He was forever doing things that surprised her, such as taking her to Bent’s Fort for a new shawl on the spur of the moment after she casually mentioned she would like one, or going off after a cow that time she’d mentioned how much she missed drinking milk.

But she never, ever expected him to do what he had done now.

“Let me get this straight. I’m in the family way, and you bring home a wolf?”

“I think it’s my old pet Blaze,” Zach said, rubbing the animal’s neck.

“I’m going to have a baby and you bring home a wolf?”

“Why are you making such a fuss? I thought you liked animals.”

“I do,” Lou said. “I like cats some. I like dogs more. I think puppies are adorable.”

“Look at him. He’s adorable, too.”

Lou looked. She had never seen such a scruffy, emaciated animal in her life. It was a wonder it was still breathing. Its bones about popped from its body, its face was sunken, and its legs were sticks. “I don’t reckon it has long to live.”

“What a terrible thing to say.” Zach scratched under the wolf’s chin, and it licked him.

“He’s skin and bones,” Lou said. “And he was limping when you rode in.”

“Yet he kept up with me.” Zach patted the wolf on its front shoulders. “I honest to God think it’s Blaze.”

Lou gazed at the dun and then at the ground around them and then back at the wolf. “And you were so excited at finding him that you forgot to bring home the fresh meat I asked for.”

“What?”

“Unless it’s invisible, I don’t see a deer anywhere.”

“Oh.”

“Sometimes, Zachary King, you are a vexation.”

“I know I’m in trouble when you get all formal.” Zach turned and swung onto the dun. “Blaze and me will go hunt. We shouldn’t be gone long.”

“You don’t know for sure it’s him.”

“What other wolf would be half as friendly?” Zach reined around. “Come on, Blaze. We’ll leave her to her mood.” He jabbed his heels and rode into the woods. The wolf stayed at his side, just as Blaze used to do. Zach grinned. He had loved that wolf. They had been inseparable. If this truly was Blaze, it would be like old times.

Zach thought of another test, a trick he had taught Blaze when Blaze was small. “I’m after a deer,” he said, and then repeated with emphasis, “Deer. Deer. Deer.”

The wolf looked up at him with a quizzical expression.

“Don’t you remember?” Zach asked. “Deer meat.”

They had gone barely a dozen yards when the wolf abruptly stopped. Zach drew rein. The wolf raised its muzzle and sniffed, turning its head from side to side as it tested the wind. Then it turned to the northeast. Zach followed. Thick brush appeared, and the wolf peered into it with an intensity that made Zach smile.

“You do remember.”

Zach dismounted. He wedged the Hawken to his shoulder and thumbed back the hammer. At the click the wolf glanced up sharply and took a step back. Zach moved toward the brush. Crouching, he scoured the shadows and nooks. He began to think the wolf was mistaken. Then he registered movement; a doe was rising from her bed, looking straight at them. He didn’t have a clear shot. Sidling to his right, he saw her plainly.

A stroke of the trigger, and the heavy ball cored her skull, splattering brains and hair.