Venom

Lou glanced down and couldn’t credit her eyes.

Rattlesnakes were on all sides of her.

Winona King was wrapping a pie in a cloth to keep it warm. Her husband was fond of pies. Early in their marriage she had learned of his fondness and practiced until she could bake them exactly as he liked them. Her own people didn’t have anything like them, and she had to admit, they were delicious. She carefully placed the pie in the basket and was closing the lid when she snapped her head up and said, “A shot.”

Nate had heard it, too. He was at the table, honing his Bowie. He put the whetstone down and went out, leaving the door open for her to follow, as he knew she would.

“Which direction, do you think?” Winona asked. His ears were much better than hers.

Nate pointed to the northeast at a point along the shore. “Somewhere over yonder.”

“From Zach’s?”

“No. Farther along.” Nate rose onto the tips of his toes, but other than his son’s cabin the opposite shore was a vague line of rock and earth, and beyond, the green of the trees.

“Rifle or pistol?”

“Pistol.”

“Did Evelyn take her rifle?”

“She forgot again. I noticed too late, after she was gone.”

“But she had her pistols?”

“I know what you’re thinking.” Nate went inside, snatched his Hawken from where he had propped it, and came back out. “I’ll have a look.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No need,” Nate said. “I won’t be long. You can finish getting ready.”

“But if it’s Evelyn…”

“If she was in real trouble, we’d hear more shots or shouts or screams,” Nate said. His secret dread was that one day one of his family would be harmed. It didn’t help that had hardly a month went by that some danger or other didn’t rear its unwanted head.

Winona was torn between going and staying. She gazed across the lake, its surface serene now that the thunderhead had moved on. She looked to the northwest, at the Worths’ far-off cabin, and then to the north at her son’s, and at the stretch of shore that curled away from their own toward the others—and her breath caught in her throat. “Husband?”

Nate was almost to the corner. He stopped and turned. It took a few seconds for what he was seeing to sink in. Water covered much of the ground, inches of it, to within five or six yards of their front door. At first it appeared as if the water was moving, but it wasn’t the water, it was something in the water. He took a few steps and the shapes acquired form. “It can’t be,” he blurted.

“You see them, then?”

Nate nodded. Snakes. Rattlesnakes. Hundreds of the things, swimming, crawling, moving aimlessly about as if they had no sense of where they should go. “God in heaven.”

Winona was aghast. She had never seen so many at one time. The whole shore was covered. Washed from somewhere by the rain, she suspected. “You were right about the hunt,” she said. “There must have been a den close by. If only we had found it.”

Small consolation for Nate. He was thinking of the shot they heard. One shot, and nothing else. “Stay here. Close the door and keep it closed.” He ran around the cabin to the corral. A large rattler was coiled almost at his feet. Drawing his Bowie, he hefted it, cocked his arm, and threw. The razor tip sliced into the serpent’s blunt head between its alien eyes and cleaved the skull nearly in half. The body whipped wildly back and forth.

Winona came running up. She had gone in for her own rifle and rushed back out. Bending, she yanked the Bowie loose and held the hilt toward him. “We must get to her right away.”

“Me,” Nate said. “Not we.”

“She is my daughter, too.” Winona turned to the gate.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Give me one good reason.”

Nate recited several. “It’s dangerous enough for one person. We can’t afford to lose two horses. And if McNair or Waku and his family show up, someone should be here to warn them about the snakes.”

“I am going,” Winona insisted.

“I can’t watch out for you and me, both.”

“Who asked you to? I can take care of myself, as you well know.”

“What about Shakespeare and the Nansusequas?”

“They are not stupid. They will see the snakes and avoid them just as we will.”

Nate knew better, but he asked, “There’s nothing I can say or do, is there, to change your mind?”

“Not a thing. Nothing will keep me from my daughter. Not the Great Mystery. Not the snakes. Not you, husband, as much as I love you.” Winona gestured. “We are wasting precious time. Our daughter might need us.”

“Saddles?” Nate said.

“More wasted time. We can ride bareback.”

Nate slid bridles on his bay and her mare. He led the pair out and climbed on the bay. Winona swung onto her mare and together they went around the cabin and promptly drew rein.

“How will we get past all those snakes?” Winona wondered.

Nate had been thinking about that. The rattlers were virtually everywhere except for a narrow strip along the lake—and in the lake itself. “Stay behind me.” He reined toward the water and rode at a slow walk. Between the cabin and the lake the snakes weren’t as thick, but there were enough to make him nervous. The thud of the bay’s heavy hooves sent most of them gliding away. A few hissed but didn’t stand their ground.

“Look out!” Winona cried.

One of the snakes had coiled and raised its head to strike.

Chapter Sixteen

Evelyn King pulsed with fear. She tried to stand, but her left leg was pinned. The horse lay unmoving and silent save for the rasp of its labored breathing. “Please, no,” Evelyn said. She pushed against the sorrel. She pushed harder. She might as well push a mountain.

The rattler kept coming. It was crawling straight for her, its tongue constantly flicking.

Evelyn stabbed her hand for her other flintlock. Terror seized her as she realized it was gone. She glanced about her, but it was nowhere to be seen. Maybe it was under the horse, she thought. She groped for her knife in its sheath on her left hip, but she couldn’t pull the blade free. It was wedged tight by her weight and she couldn’t rise high enough to work it free. She gave a last frantic tug, and the snake reached her.

Evelyn turned to stone. She expected it to coil and bite. Instead, it crawled up onto her shoulder. She shuddered at the contact and immediately willed herself to stop in case it provoked the snake into striking. The rattler went crawling on past as if she were a rock or a log.

“God,” Evelyn breathed, and grinned. She had been lucky, awful lucky. She pushed at the saddle and at the sorrel with the same result as before. Tiring, she sank onto her back and stared at the sky. She needed help. She couldn’t extricate herself alone. Rising onto her elbows, she went to shout—and new fear gushed through her like spears of ice.

More snakes were emerging from the pool and making for the woods. Six, seven, eight of them, six rattlers and a bull snake and another that might be a ribbon snake. They crawled with purpose, their heads slightly raised, forked tongues darting.