Skin Shredder was caught by surprise. It was so unexpected, and she was so quick, that he swerved aside a fraction too late. The branch slashed his temple, missing his eye by a finger’s width. He slowed, and she increased her lead.
Skin Shredder smiled. She was a firebrand, this small one. It was too bad she must die. She had the kind of spirit he liked in his wives.
Lou was glad she had slowed him down but she was only delaying the inevitable. She would run out of tricks and energy and the warriors would be on her. She imagined they would be mad, imagined them hitting and kicking her. A beating might cost her the baby. Added incentive for her to make her feet fly.
Lou was running so fast, the trees were a blur. She burst from the lodgepoles. A boulder filled her vision and she swept around it. On the other side was a badger mound and a badger hole. She willed her body to jump but she was not quite quick enough.
Her left foot went into the hole, and down she crashed.
Zach King pushed the bay harder than he had ever ridden it. He lashed the reins and used his heels and climbed as fast as the terrain permitted. The steep slopes chafed at his patience. His temper, held in check by a thin veneer of self-control, snapped. The more he thought about what Lou had gone through—first abducted by the Blood and now the Heart Eaters—the angrier he became.
Zach was in the grip of bloodlust. It made him think of when he was younger, when he lived for counting coup. He hadn’t felt this way in many a moon, and it felt good to be his old self again.
He was eager for a glimpse of Lou and her captors. He had checked the Hawken and his remaining pistol. His knife was razor sharp. His tomahawk had a keen edge. He craved the coming fight as a drunk craved a drink or a person with a sweet tooth craved pies and cakes.
Whenever he came to a gap in the trees Zach rose in the stirrups and scanned the higher slopes. He figured the Heart Eaters were making for their secret pass over the top of the range. After he dealt with them and got Lou safely back home, he would take a keg of black powder and ensure the Heart Eaters never again invaded King Valley.
Better yet, Zach would like to find their village. Two or three kegs should suffice to blow the tribe to the white man’s kingdom come—or enough of them that the few left would retreat deeper into the mountains and cease to be a threat to his loved ones or anyone else.
That had been one of life’s hardest lessons. His father and mother were such good people, and they had raised him with so much kindness and love, that when he was little he took it for granted that everyone else was the same. It had come as a shock to discover that a lot of people weren’t kind or loving—that they were, in fact, anything but. A lot of folks didn’t care about anything except themselves. Even worse, some people, red and white, lived to hurt others. They relished the pain they inflicted, whether physical or emotional. They were hateful and mean, and reveled in their vileness. His pa said it was the way of the world. He thought they should all be chucked off a cliff.
Zach rose in the stirrups. He saw no one and was about to sink back down when he caught movement near a phalanx of lodgepole pines. It took a few seconds for what he was seeing to make sense. When it did, his breath caught in his throat. Lou was on foot and fleeing for her life. He reached for his parfleche to take out his spyglass and remembered he had left it on a shelf in their bedroom.
“Damn my stupidity, anyhow.”
Lou suddenly stumbled—or so it appeared to Zach—and fell. The others were on her in a twinkling. One of them yanked her to her feet and hauled her toward the lodgepoles. The others bent and seemed to be carrying or rolling something up the slope.
Zach raised the Hawken to his shoulder but lowered it again. What was he thinking? They were too far off. He must keep his temper in check for a little while longer.
He hoped Lou was all right, hoped the fall hadn’t hurt her inside. If she should lose the baby he would wreak bloodshed on the Heart Eaters a hundredfold.
God, how Zach wished the bay had wings. Presently he neared the lodgepoles and reined toward the spot where he had seen Lou fall. He saw a badger burrow and guessed the truth. He also saw a bare shallow circle of dirt, and then another, each about as big around as a washtub. Ruts led from the circles into the trees. He wondered what made them.
A loud snapping and crunching brought Zach to a stop. He looked up just as a boulder came rolling out of the trees—straight at him. He reined sharply aside, fearing the boulder would crash into the bay’s legs and bring down the horse. It missed by an arm’s length.
Then Zach understood. The circles of dirt were where boulders had been. He reined to the left to get out of there just as another boulder hurtled out at the bay.
The horse carried them clear.
Zach went to rein around. Suddenly scarred figures burst from cover and swarmed about him. For a moment he thought he would be riddled with arrows, but their bows were slung. They had large rocks and tree limbs, and one let fly with a rock that struck the Hawken and nearly knocked it from his hand. He tried to point it, but the blunt end of a thick limb caught him in the ribs and iron fingers grabbed hold of his leg.
Zach was unhorsed. He slammed to the earth on his shoulders. Before he could rise, before he could draw his knife or his tomahawk, they were on him. A warrior was on each arm, a warrior on each leg, another astride his chest. He was pinned flat.
Zach heaved upward, but their combined weight was too much. They made no attempt to stab him or beat him. All they did was hold him down and smile. Those smiles were like searing red-hot pokers driven into Zach’s gut. He felt a berserker rage coming over him, but he held it in check. All he would do was waste himself.
Two more warriors appeared, Lou held between them. She was limping, her face etched in pain. She smiled, a smile of such love and tenderness that Zach’s head swam.
“About time you showed up.”
Caught in an ebb tide of emotion, Zach said quietly, “I sure made a mess of it.”
Louisa yearned to go to him and take him in her arms. She had tried to shout a warning, but Skin Shredder had clamped a hand over her mouth. “We’re not dead yet.”
“How bad is your leg?”
“It’s not broken.” Lou gazed down the mountain. “Are you alone?”
“Shakespeare is tending Blue Water Woman.”
“She’s alive?”
“Yes.”
“Thank God.”
“Don’t give up hope. I’ll get you out of this or die.”
“Haven’t you heard?” Lou smiled. “I’m a King. A King never gives up hope.”
Skin Shredder was puzzled. He couldn’t understand how the two could be so calm about the breed’s capture. He’d expected the man to be in a frenzy and the woman to scream and fight. Instead they behaved as if it were of no consequence. “Tie his wrists and bring his horse. Do not let him get on it. Make him walk.”
Zach resisted when they hauled him to his feet and forced his arms behind him, but there were too many. It was humiliating, being bound by enemies.
They started up the mountain.
Lou walked beside Zach, her shoulder brushing his. None of the warriors objected until she made bold to reach out and gently clasp his bounds hands. The warrior behind her, evidently thinking she was trying to undo the knots, swatted her hands and said something.
Skin Shredder was in the lead. He glanced back when he heard Star Dancer tell the white woman not to touch the breed. “Watch her closely. They must not escape.” It had been many moons since a raiding party brought back two captives. His people would be overjoyed. They would sing his praises and dance and cut out and eat the man’s heart. The woman could wait until the baby was born. Then there would be two more to eat.
The thought made his mouth water. He could almost taste them.
