facing slope, her pretty face mirroring concern. Two warriors had been left to guard her. Beyond were the bay and the pinto.
Zach debated. Forty feet was a lot of open space. Both warriors had arrows notched to the strings of their bows. He couldn’t possibly reach them before one or both of those shafts transfixed his body.
The warriors were talking.
Zach hefted the rock he had used to cut the rope. Then, cocking his arm, he threw it as high and as far as he could toward the other end of the shelf. Luck favored him and it came down in a tree, clattering from branch to branch as it fell. Both warriors whirled. Raising their bows, they moved toward the tree.
Zach exploded up over the bench and sprinted toward Lou and the horses. He remembered that one of the Heart Eaters had put his pistol, tomahawk, and knife in the parfleche on the bay.
Lou heard him and spun. She beamed in relief, only to have her husband fly past her. He was so intent on the bay that he didn’t see what she saw—one of the warriors had gone into the trees, but the other had turned and was sighting down a barbed shaft. Lou went to cry a warning.
Zach had to pass the pinto to reach the bay. He was almost to it when the pinto whinnied and stepped directly into his path. He thought he was the cause until it wheeled and he saw blood welling from a long cut on its flank. In its flight it collided with the bay, and both horses bolted toward a warrior reaching for another shaft in his quiver.
The man leaped aside to avoid being trampled. He did not quite have the arrow out when Zach launched himself like a cannonball. His shoulder caught the warrior full across the chest. Down they went with Zach on top. Both grabbed for the hilt of the knife the warrior wore. Zach got his hand on it, but the warrior clamped hold of his wrist.
Zach punched him, a jab to the jaw that rocked the warrior’s head. The man didn’t let go. A second punch did no good, either, so Zach drove his forehead into the man’s face. There was a
Zach hit him in the throat and the warrior broke into convulsions. He raised his fist for a last blow, only to have small hands seize his forearm.
“Forget him!” Lou urged. “We must flee.”
Shouts from below warned Zach why. The horses had made such a racket in running off that Skin Shredder and the others were hurrying back. Snatching the knife, he grabbed her hand and headed up the mountain.
Lou grit her teeth and did her best to keep up. She couldn’t stop limping, though, and they went only a short way when before Zach slipped an arm around her and practically began carrying her.
“I can manage on my own.”
“Hush and run.”
The last thing Lou wanted was to slow him down. She pumped her good leg and put as little weight on her bad as she could. For a while that helped. They went more than fifty yards, into growth so thick the Heart Eaters would have to be right on top of them to see them. She began to think that maybe, just maybe, they would get away.
Zach was listening to the sounds of pursuit. Four or five warriors were spread out in a line.
Lou hurt worse with every step. She clung tight to Zach, furious at herself, yet elated they were eluding their pursuers. Or were they?
Zach sought a place to hide. A cave, a crevice, anything, so long as it would shelter Lou while he led the Heart Eaters away. He would gladly sacrifice himself for her sake and the sake of the baby.
Lou looked back. A swarthy, scarred form was plowing through the vegetation. Any moment he might spot them. She pulled on Zach, whispering urgently, “We need to find cover! Now!”
Zach did as she wanted. He didn’t ask why. He darted into some aspens and threw himself to the ground, pulling her after him.
Lou’s heart hammered. When the warrior flew past, she breathed a little easier.
Zach didn’t linger. Helping her up, he bore to the north. He hoped the change of direction would confuse the Heart Eaters.
The woods became ominously still. The wind died, and not so much as a pine needle moved.
Zach liked it better when he could hear their pursuers. He slowed so they weren’t making as much noise.
Lou accidentally put all her weight on her hurt leg. Torment racked her. She clamped her mouth shut to keep from crying out and was grateful when Zach stopped and hunkered. She squatted beside him, her hands on the ground for support.
“I think we lost them,” Zach whispered. Now all they had to do was make it down the mountain to their cabin.
“I’ve hardly ever been so scared,” Lou confessed.
“You hide it well.”
“If they ever get us to their village—”
“They won’t.” Zach paused. “Your leg is worse, isn’t it?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“You can barely stand.”
“I’ll keep up.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Shhhh.”
“If I have to I can carry you.”
Lou touched his cheek. “You wonderful idiot. How far do you reckon we’d get?”
“I’ll have you climb on my back. We’ll go slow. By morning we’ll be down near the lake.”
Suddenly a rabbit streaked by.
Zach shifted in the direction it came from, wondering what had spooked it. The answer was a who, not a what. He started to rise, but thought better of it. He would be dead before he took a step.
An arrow was centered on his chest.
Chapter Sixteen
Skin Shredder was beside himself. The war party had been his idea. He organized it. He led it. If it was successful, if he brought back captives, his people would hold him in high esteem. But he must return with all the warriors who went with him on the raid. Lose even one, and his people would say the raid was bad medicine. They would hold him to blame and whisper behind his back that he was a poor leader.
The Tunkua had never been numerous. At their highest they numbered barely three hundred. That was before war with a much stronger tribe cost them many lives and forced them to leave the land they had called their own since they were formed from the clay of the earth. Now the Tunkua numbered one hundred and sixty-seven. So many men had been lost in the war and on the long trek north that for every warrior there were three women. The loss of a single man was a cause for grief and dismay.
Bone Cracker was dying. His throat had been crushed by the half-breed, and he lay gasping and gurgling and convulsing.
“He was my friend,” Star Dancer said sadly.
Skin Shredder glared at the captives and fingered his knife. Both were bound hand and foot and would stay that way until they reached the village.
“We should kill him here,” Star Dancer said.
“You would deprive our people of his heart?” Skin Shredder snapped.
It would be worse than losing a warrior. He would be held in low regard by one and all. No one would ask his opinion in councils or want to go on a raid with him.
“No,” Star Dancer reluctantly replied.
