legs. Instinctively he tried to leap back, but the Pawnee held him fast and grinned a vicious grin. The pain worsened. Smoke was rising from Nate’s moccasins and his pants. He was about to burst into flame.
Exerting all his strength, Nate wrenched and flung the Pawnee from him. The warrior was up in a heartbeat. His knife held low, the man came in low and quick, slashing at Nate’s groin. A twist and a step and Nate sank the bowie to the hilt between two ribs.
The Pawnee’s back arched and his mouth gaped wide, but no sounds came out. He gulped breath, or tried to, and died.
Nate yanked the bowie out as the warrior fell. A shout warned him others were converging. Spinning, he got out of there. His feet hurt from the flames and each stride made him grimace. But he didn’t slow. He ran until he was near where he thought Maklin should be, but the horses and the Texan weren’t there. For a panicked instant Nate thought Maklin had run out on him. He should have known better.
Hooves drummed and a strong hand gripped Nate by the arm and swung him onto the bay. Side by side they rode for their lives while behind them the Pawnees rent the air with yowls of frustration.
“Thanks,” Nate said.
“We’re not safe yet.”
A glance at their camp showed Nate several had mounted and were giving chase.
Nate reined down the mountain. The Texan’s pistol boomed and the Pawnees howled in rage.
The ride was a nightmare. Obstacles loomed so abruptly that avoiding them took all the skill Nate possessed. His fear was for the bay more than himself. A mistake on his part could bring the animal to ruinous harm.
They rode and they rode and gradually the sounds of pursuit faded. They were nearly to the bottom of the mountain when Nate brought the bay to a stop and shifted in the saddle to listen.
“I think we shook them,” Maklin said.
“I hope so.”
“How many did you rub out?”
Nate had to think. “I shot two and stabbed another. I expect all three are dead.”
“And I shot a fourth, so there are only seven left. Maybe Kuruk will give up and go home.”
“Anyone who hates as much as he does won’t quit easy.” Nate clucked the weary bay on.
Maklin came up next to him. “What do you think those things were we saw earlier?”
“I have no idea,” Nate admitted. But he was determined to find out. “I reckon a visit to those caves is in order.”
“When you do, I’m tagging along.”
Nothing else was said until they neared the Valley of Skulls. The weary bay was about tuckered out and Nate was looking forward to letting it rest.
Suddenly a voice split the night.
“Halt! Who is that?”
Nate drew rein in surprise. “Haskell, is that you? It’s King and Maklin. We’re coming in.”
The freighter lieutenant and another man had their rifles in hand. “It’s good to see you safe. We heard shooting far off, so the captain decided to have us take turns standing guard until morning.”
Nate related, briefly, the clash with the Pawnees.
“We’ll keep our eyes skinned. If those devils show their red hides, we’ll blister them with lead.”
The valley lay still and peaceful under the stars. Most of the freighters had turned in, but Jeremiah Blunt was still up and Nate had to recite his fight again between sips of piping-hot coffee.
“We’ll inform Lexington in the morning,” Blunt declared. “His people are at risk.”
“Not that it will do any good,” Maklin said bitterly. “Not one of those yacks will lift a finger to defend themselves.”
“The Pawnees don’t know that,” Blunt mentioned.
Nate hadn’t thought of that. Since most whites carried guns, Kuruk would assume the Shakers were armed and might not attack. “It could be what saves them,” he said, and was raising his tin cup for another swallow when he went rigid.
The ground was shaking. Not hard, not violently, but enough that Nate felt uneasy. The horses set to whinnying and the oxen to lowing. A nearby cauldron bubbled loudly and a prolonged hiss filled the air. In less than a minute the shaking stopped.
“I don’t like it when it does that,” Jeremiah Blunt said. “I am not a student of geology, but I know when ground is unstable. The Shakers would be well advised to set up their new colony elsewhere.”
Nate agreed, but he mentioned that trying to convince Arthur Lexington would be a waste of breath.
“The man is too fond of himself. He believes he is right and everyone else is wrong.”
“People like him rub me wrong,” Maklin said.
At last Nate was able to turn in. He lay on his back with his saddle for a pillow. Every muscle seemed sore. He was so tired he figured he would drift off quickly, but his mind refused to shut down. It was three in the morning when sleep claimed him.
The clink of a coffeepot woke him. Dawn was about to break and Blunt and several others were already up. Blunt planned to start unloading the wagons as soon as the sun rose in order to get it done in one day.
Nate offered to lend a hand, but the captain said it wasn’t necessary, that his men had strong backs and worked well together.
Along about ten, with the freighters unloading and the Shaker men busy building and the Shaker women doing their daily chores, Nate decided to explore the rest of the valley. He drifted past the cabins, then past hot springs too numerous to count. Some constantly bubbled and boiled while others bubbled now and again. When they did, they hissed like serpents.
Nate noticed a foul odor that was stronger near the cauldrons and vents.
The skulls and bones fascinated him. There were so many. Their size staggered the imagination. One leg bone was bigger than he was. A skull had teeth longer than his fingers. Whatever these creatures were, they had been huge.
Slopes sparse with vegetation led up to the cliffs. Nate counted over forty on the north side of the valley alone. An ancient footpath wound up to them.
Nate stood in the entrance to the lowest and peered into its depths. The reek was strong here, too, although why that should be puzzled him. He started in, but had only gone a dozen steps when it became so dark he couldn’t see his hand at arm’s length. He deemed it best to back out and was about to do so when he heard the unmistakable tread of a foot.
Someone, or some thing, was in there with him.
Nate raised the Hawken. The Indians claimed that the race that once lived in the valley had long since died out, but maybe the Indians were mistaken.
“King? Are you in here?”
Lowering his rifle, Nate answered, “I’m coming out, Maklin.” He felt like a fool. Even more so when he nearly bumped into the Texan. “What are you doing here?”
“I told you I wanted to tag along. Blunt saw you hike off and let me know.”
“He would make a fine wife.”
The Texan grinned. “Don’t let him hear you say that. I’ve seen him lift an anvil over his head.” He stared into the dark tunnel. “So what did you find in there? Anything?”
“No.”
The trail continued upward, a groove in the rock worn by untold thousands of feet untold thousands of years ago.
“Any sign of those things we saw last night?”
“Not yet.”
