Venom

asked, “Are you all right?”

Evelyn couldn’t talk. She was coughing and hacking, trying to dislodge the piece. Her stomach contracted and she nearly vomited. She tasted bitter bile, and coughed some more, and the grisly tidbit shot out of her mouth and into her hand. “Lord,” she breathed, afraid she would be sick.

The headless body was thrashing about. In a fit of anger, Nate placed his boot on it and mashed it into the dirt. The body ruptured, spewing its insides. He kicked it away in disgust.

“Thanks, Pa,” Evelyn said.

“I told you. Rattlers aren’t to be trusted.”

Winona came around the corner wearing her apron, her rifle in hand. “Why did you shoot?” she anxiously asked.

Nate nodded at the viper. “Our youngest nearly got herself bit.”

Incredibly, the snake was still moving. Winona walked up to it and remarked, “Another rattlesnake? I saw a couple while you were away. And Blue Water Woman was saying how she’s seen more this year than in any year she can remember.”

“Maybe we should have a hunt,” Nate suggested. If there were that many rattlers around, they needed to be thinned out. “Kill as many as we can so we don’t have to worry about stepping on one in the dark.”

Evelyn was beginning to feel a little better. She uncurled and ran her sleeve over her mouth. “Can’t we leave them be? The only reason this one tried to bite me is because I was poking it.”

“We’ll talk later,” Nate said. He caught Winona’s eye and motioned. She immediately understood.

Gently taking Evelyn’s arm, Winona said, “Come inside, Daughter. We will heat water for your bath, and I will cook venison and wild asparagus for our supper.”

Nate stripped his bay and the packhorse and put them in the corral with the others. He had been in the saddle most of the day and could stand to stretch his legs. On a whim he walked to the lake. Out on the water ducks and geese paddled placidly about. A fish leaped clear and dived. An eagle glided down and rose up again, flapping strongly, a fish in its talons.

Nate strolled along the shore. It felt wonderful to be home. He’d missed the valley, missed the serenity. He didn’t fool himself, though. In the shadowed ranks of the thick forest prowled bears and mountain lions and wolves. Hostiles could pay them a visit at any time. Then there was Nature herself, as temperamental a mistress as ever unleashed a tempest.

Peace in the wilderness was the exception, not the norm, a condition to be savored as someone might savor a fine wine or brandy.

Nate was a master at savoring. The hardships he’d endured over the years had taught him the value of stopping to smell the roses now and then, a lesson some people never learned. They became so caught up in life that they forgot it was meant to be lived.

“Say there, mister. Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Nate was so deep in thought, he hadn’t realized he was no longer alone. He looked up and smiled. “Zach!”

“Me,” his son said. “I saw riders and figured it must be you. You were gone an awful long time.” Not quite as tall or as broad as Nate, Zach was swarthy enough to pass for a full-blooded Indian. His eyes, though, betrayed his white half; they were a piercing green.

They hugged. Nate had never been averse to showing that he cared for his loved ones. Some men were. Some hardly ever hugged their wives and children, and thought the little they did was more than enough.

“I’ve missed you, Pa,” Zach said warmly, clapping his father on the back. “I wish I could have gone with you.”

“You know you couldn’t. Not with your wife in the family way.” Nate studied him. “What have you been up to while I was gone?”

“Not much. I had a scrape with the Indians in the next valley. And a Blood warrior stole Louisa, but I got her back. Other than that, things have been quiet.”

“You don’t say.” Nate hid his alarm. Unlike Shakespeare, who exaggerated everything, Zach tended to make molehills out of mountains. “You and your missus are invited to our place tonight to tell us all about it.”

“If Louisa is up to it,” Zach said. “She has started to show, and some days she is sickly.”

“Your mother had her bouts, too,” Nate told him. “Carrying a baby wears women down.” It would wear him down. The swelling, the sickness, the need to eat for two instead of one; he didn’t know how women bore it.

“Listen to us.” Zach chuckled. “Talking about making babies instead of lifting scalps.”

“I thought you gave that up.”

“I have,” Zach said. “For now.”

Nate decided to change the subject. “Tell me something. Have you seen many snakes around this summer?”

“What kind? I saw a few garters and a black snake and the tail end of what might have been a pine snake.”

“The tail end?”

“It was going down a hole.”

A raven flew over, the swish of its wings loud in the rarefied mountain air.

“How about rattlers?” Nate asked.

“Come to think of it, I’ve seen a few.”

“How many, exactly?” Nate pressed him.

“What does it matter? We see rattlers a lot.”

“It’s important,” Nate urged.

Zach scratched his chin. “Let’s see. Nine or ten, I reckon, since the weather warmed.”

“That’s more than usual, isn’t it?”

“I suppose. I don’t pay much attention. You’ve seen one snake, you’ve seen them all. Why?”

“I’m thinking of organizing a rattlesnake hunt,” Nate revealed.

Zach snorted in amusement. “Are you giving up buffalo and elk and deer for snake meat?”

“There are too many around.”

“There are too many chipmunks, too. Do we exterminate them next?”

“Very funny. But your sister was almost bit.”

“If she was, I’d feel sorry for the snake,” Zach joked. “Likely as not, she would poison it.”

“Now, now,” Nate said.

“I don’t see the sense to it, but if you want to hunt rattlers, count me in. Someone has to watch your back so one doesn’t bite you in the behind.”

Nate gazed to the north at his son’s distant cabin. Wisps of smoke rose from the stone chimney. “How is Lou coming along otherwise?”

“Fine. She swears she can feel the baby kick, but it can’t be nowhere near big enough yet.”

“You’ll make a fine father,” Nate predicted.

“So she says and so Uncle Shakespeare says and so Ma says and so you say,” Zach recited without much conviction.

“You don’t sound as sure.”

Zach looked out over the lake and then at the sky and then down at the tips of his moccasins. “Do you want the truth?” he quietly asked.

“Always.”

“I’m scared, Pa. More than I’ve ever been scared. I have an awful feeling I won’t make a good father at all.”

Nate stood next to him, their shoulders nearly touching, and pretended to be interested in the lake. A male and female mallard were a short ways out, swimming side by side. “Why won’t you?”

“I’m not ready. I have a temper, remember? I’ve done things that have gotten me in a lot of trouble.”

“When we’re young we all do things we wouldn’t do when we are older. It’s normal.”

“Is it normal to be taken into custody by the army and put on trial for murder?”

“Well, no.”