Nate smiled at the mother and the children to try and put them at ease. “He’s concerned for your family. You should be with a wagon train, not by yourselves.”
“It costs money to sign on with a train,” Wendell said. “It costs money for a wagon and money for a team and money for supplies, and money is one thing we are short of.”
Nate could see that for himself. “You’re taking a risk.” Which was putting it mildly.
“You think I don’t know that?” Wendell countered. “I’m not dumb. I talked it over with Maddy and she agreed we would cross the prairie as quick as we could and stick to cover once we’re in the mountains. By sticking close to the Oregon Trail we should be in Oregon in five to six weeks.”
Nate felt sorry for them. They thought they had it all worked out, but they were infants. “The Sioux, the Blackfeet, they know the routes the whites like to use.”
“We’re being careful,” Wendell insisted, and motioned at the basin. “We made our fire where nobody can see, didn’t we?”
“We saw it,” Nate said.
“It’s too late for us to turn back.”
Nate knew that the dangers ahead were far worse than anything they had experienced so far. “Listen to me. Here’s an idea. Join the freight train I’m with. Their captain won’t mind. After I’ve guided them to where they want to go, I’ll take you to a valley where my family and I live. You can stay with us, rest up a spell, and then we’ll take you to the Oregon Trail and lend you the money to join a wagon train.”
“We don’t have a wagon,” Maddy said.
“We’ll ask the wagon master if you can ride with them anyway. Odds are he won’t mind.”
“You would do that?” Wendell asked.
Nate had more than enough in his poke at home. “I would do that.”
“But you don’t know me from Adam.”
Maklin stepped past Nate. “What the hell is the matter with you? He’s giving you a chance to go on breathing and you quibble?”
“Watch your tone,” Wendell said.
The Texan pointed at the woman and children. “Think of them, damn you. Think of her after she’s been raped and had her throat slit. Think of your boy and girl there after they’ve been cut to bits.”
Wendell shook with fury. “How dare you talk to me like that? With my family right there. Who in hell do you think you are?” He started to jerk his rifle to his shoulder.
Maklin’s hand flicked and a pistol was in it and pointed at Wendell, who froze in consternation. “Your temper is liable to get you killed someday, farmer. Set your long gun on the ground.”
Reluctantly, Wendell tucked at the knees and carefully placed his rifle on the grass. As he unfurled he said, “I don’t like you. I don’t like you a whole lot.”
“Forget about me. It’s King, here, you should heed. Take him up on his offer or you’ll live to regret it.”
“I will do as I please,” Wendell said.
Nate was as bewildered as the farmer. “Both of you need to calm down,” he advised.
“I am perfectly calm,” Maklin said. “I just can’t stand to see this woman lose her life because her husband is too stupid to know when he’s being dumb. They’ll never make it to Oregon on their own. You know it and I know it and I wish to God they did.” Suddenly stepping back, Maklin slid the pistol under his belt, wheeled, and melted into the darkness.
“Goodness gracious,” Maddy breathed. “What on earth got into him?”
Nate was wondering the same thing. “I’ll go have a talk with him. In the meantime, you two hash it over and decide.” He turned partway. “He’s right, though. On your own you’re easy prey for every hostile who comes along. You would be a lot safer with the freighters.” He walked up the slope and nearly tripped over Maklin, who had squatted on the rim. “What got into you down there?”
The Texan didn’t answer.
“Why did you talk to him like that? It was bound to make him mad.”
“He’s a fool.”
“He’s doing what he can. We can’t fault him for wanting a better life for his family.”
“We can fault him for getting them killed, which he sure as hell will do unless he has more brains than I give him credit for.”
Nate leaned on the Hawken. “There’s more to it than that. I saw how you looked at that woman.”
“I don’t want her dead.”
“What is she to you that you care so much? You just met her.”
“She’s noting to me. She’s female, though, and females shouldn’t have to go through that.”
“Go through what?” Nate wished he could see Maklin’s face, but it was hidden by the black hat’s wide brim.
“What hostiles will do to her if they get their hands on her.” Maklin bowed his head and said quietly, “I told you my wife is dead. I didn’t tell you how she died.”
Nate had an inkling and quickly said, “If you don’t care to talk about it, that’s fine.”
“No. I want you to know. I want you to understand why that farmer made me so damn mad.” Maklin’s voice dropped lower. “The Comanches got hold of her, Nate. The Lipans and the Comanches have been enemies for as long as anyone can remember. They exterminate each other on sight.”
“The Shoshones have their enemies, too.” To Nate’s knowledge all tribes did.
When it came to hate, the white and the red were more alike than either was willing to admit.
“Na-lin was off with four other women picking berries and they were taken by surprise. They ran, and one of the women hid in the bushes. She saw what happened.” Maklin paused. “The Comanches caught Na-lin and the others. Na-lin fought them. She drew her knife and cut a warrior, so they threw her down and did things…” Maklin stopped.
“No need to tell me more.”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to.”
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Nate retraced his step to the bottom of the basin. They were waiting, the four of them, the father and mother with their arms around their children. “Have you decided?”
“Yes, we have,” Wendell said. “We thank you for your offer, but we will continue on our own. It’s not that we don’t trust you—”
“But we don’t know you,” Maddy quickly explained.
“So we figure to keep going on our own,” Wendell finished. He grinned and shrugged. “Heck, we’ve made it this far, we’ll make it the rest of the way.”
“God help you,” Nate King said.
“Are those buzzards?” Jeremiah Blunt wondered.
Nate King had been deep in thought. He was thinking of Evelyn and the Nansusequa and hoping Shakespeare got them home safely. Now he glanced at the captain and then in the direction Blunt was staring and a chill rippled down his spine. To the northeast vultures were circling, an awful lot of them.
The freight wagons had been under way an hour and were strung out in single file.
Maklin rode on Nate’s left. He had been with Nate since Nate woke up, at Blunt’s orders, Nate suspected. Now the Texan swore and said, “That’s about where we ran into that dirt farmer and his family.”
“I’ll catch up,” Nate told Blunt, and brought the bay to a gallop. His shadow stayed with him. In due course they were close enough that Nate could see the bald heads and hooked beaks of the winged carrion eaters. He hoped against hope, but when he drew rein at the basin’s rim, his hopes were dashed. “God, no.”
“I hate idiots,” Maklin said.
Nate gigged the bay down. A score of vultures rose into the air, flapping heavily, disturbed from their feast
