Crows & Cards (25 page)

And so I did, 'cause I was so relieved to have done something right and lived to tell about it. Just then, a stab of lightning turned the woods into daylight, showing me the chief and princess holed up under a tree. Standing right beside them was a third person who was so large and round in shape that it looked sort of like Ho-John.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

I
NEAR JUMPED INTO
H
O-
J
OHN'S ARMS
but held off, not sure if my eyes had been playing tricks on me. That flash of lightning hadn't lasted but two beats before everything flicked back to black. What if I'd only been seeing what I wanted to? Maybe someone else was blocking the trail we'd been headed down. I was busy wishing for a white stallion to hop aboard and thunder away on when a second stab of lightning split open the night, revealing Ho-John right where I'd thought he'd been—half drowned beside the princess and chief.

"But the dogs..." I sputtered, flopping an arm in the direction Chilly had gone. 'Course, by then the second flash had faded and nobody saw my gesture.

"I found them a real raccoon in a tree," Ho-John said from the darkness, "and left them to it." He shuffled forward a step to drop a hand on my shoulder. "Seems you've done yourself proud all over the place."

Hearing that swelled me up, till I had a thought. "But how'd you ever get away from Chilly?"

"Seems the back of his head ran into a tree branch," Ho-John said. "And when he came to, me and the dogs were gone."

I think there might have been a smile to his voice, though I was only guessing—I'd never heard one there before and in the dark I couldn't be sure.

"And now where you going?" I asked.

"Circling back to town. I know where there's a skiff might get me across the river."

"On such a night as this?" I gulped. "On your own?" I couldn't fathom taking a tippy boat over deep waters in the dark with the wind just a-whipping and rain coming down like needles. But I seen that he meant to do it, which didn't leave me but one thing to say, though I wished I could have managed to get it out a little louder and braver sounding than I did. "I could go with you."

"Skiff's only got room for one," Ho-John answered, which sounded like a barefaced lie and for which I was eternally grateful.

"Well, at least let me give you some good luck."

"You got some to spare?"

Pulling Chilly's gold watch out of my vest pocket, I pressed it into Ho-John's thick hand.

"What's this?" he asked, deathly serious.

"A gift from Chilly."

Then came a pause. In the dark I couldn't tell Ho-John's mood, but I got a feel for it when he said defiant-like, "'Bout time he gave me something." Then he started talking faster. "You take care of yourself, Zeb. And mind you stay out of trees. There won't always be a Ho-John around to pretend you're not there."

"I'm beholding to you for that," I answered, choking a little on the words.

"Not anymore you're not."

Then the time for jawing was done. Ho-John started off toward the river, which had to be the riskiest possible direction for him to head, except that's where the skiff must be. I heard his shackles rattling and knew he wasn't going to sneak past anyone too easy, nor outrun anyone either, not unless it was Goose Nedeau. And how handy could they be for swimming if his boat got swamped?

"Wait," I said. "What about those chains?"

"What chains?" he answered, loping away.

I'm guessing that was the power of freedom talking, which left me convinced that he'd find some way to shed his irons, 'specially now that he had Chilly's watch. The last I saw of him was thanks to a lightning bolt. He was dodging and weaving through the woods fast as he could move.

When I turned to ask the chief and princess if they thought he'd make it, I found them moving off in the opposite direction. I had to run to catch up, and soon as I did, I latched on to the pony's tail as if it was a lifeline. My plans may have been sketchy, but I knew without a doubt that they didn't include being left alone in those woods.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

W
E PUSHED ON THROUGH THE WOODS
for most of an hour, which stretched out longer than a lifetime of pins and needles. Every step of the way it felt as though Chilly was going to grab me by the hair any second and drag me back to the inn. But when the storm eventually veered away to the southeast, pulling the rain with it, and we still hadn't been caught, I dared to feel a little tug of hope.

Whenever there was a fork in the trail, the princess picked the way that took us farther and farther from any sign of civilization. It wasn't long before church bells from town sounded tiny as harness bells over a hill. We didn't stray close to any cabins, though once I saw a candlelight shimmering through wetted-up branches and another time I heard voices arguing about who had to sleep in the loft and a third time we hit some wood smoke that smelled so cozy and homelike that I nearly sat down right there.

Finally the trail met up with a meadow. That's where we stopped, right on the lip of the woods.

The first thing the princess did was order me to help her pull a travois out from its hiding place under some cut spruce boughs. Shaped like a V, the travois was built of two lodge poles lashed together with rawhide. Tepee skin had been stretched across the poles to make a carrying shelf. Everything the chief and princess owned in the world appeared to be heaped on that sled, and kind of slapdash too, as though done in a hot-coal hurry.

It took all three of us to hook up the contraption. The point of the V was tied to the pony's back and the other two ends were left to drag on the ground, sort of like a wagon without wheels.

Satisfied that everything was in place, the princess said to me, "We wait."

"For anything in particular?" I asked.

"Birdman."

If she was going to dole out a pinch of this and a dash of that, I decided not to give her the satisfaction of asking for more, though I did at least mumble a thank-you for saving my skin.

"Your
worthless
skin?" she asked.

"That's the one," I agreed, which earned me a chuckle from the princess, along with a nod, as if to say,
You're welcome.
I was encouraged enough to ask something that'd been eating away at me since the inn. "Where'd all them aces come from?"

My question broadened her smile enough for me to see her teeth, which told me I could repeat myself till the cows came home—she wasn't going to answer.

So there we waited for Birdman, whose very name dropped the jitters on me. I couldn't help but picture some fierce Indian warrior painted green or blue with black feathers glued all over creation.

Somewhere in there a breeze swept the last of the clouds away and stars came winking out. A touch of moon drifted along. Not much, just enough to help see anything that was shiny.

Before long a shiny head did come bouncing across the meadow toward us, but it wasn't attached to a green or blue or feathered brave. It was mostly bald and belonged to the Professor, who was riding a fine bay. Soon as I recognized him, I spun about, searching for a tree to climb up or hole to crawl down, 'cause naturally I figured that Chilly had sent him after me. But he doused my fears quick by calling out, "Hold your horses, Zeb. There ain't nothing to combust about."

Not till then did I catch sight of Venus and Aphrodite, clucking and pecking inside wooden cages that were draped over the horse's flanks. Seeing those chickens, I finally pieced together who Birdman was—the Professor, of course.

There was a rolled-up blanket and carpetbag tied behind his saddle, so it appeared he really wasn't hunting for runaways but was on the move just like us. Doing my level best not to act surprised, I said with a voice that had a touch of squeaky door to it, "What brings you—" Clearing my throat, I tried again. "What brings you calling, Professor?"

"The chief."

"You've got doings with each other?" I'm afraid my voice floated upward on me.

"We better have," the Professor said with a chuckle. Growing serious, he added, "Zeb, I'm thinking you'd be smart to steer clear of Goose Nedeau's place for a decade or two."

"I reckon I can manage that," I said. "They done looking for me yet?"

"Not hardly," the Professor said. "Chilly came rampaging back to the inn just as I was taking my leave. Goose's hounds were howling at his heels, and he aimed to put their noses to the ground as soon as he could find someone to handle 'em. So you best keep right on going. From what I heard Chilly shouting, that's what Ho-John's doing."

"Where
you
headed now?" I asked, ripe for suggestions.

"Guess I'm pointed California way. Going to get me some of that gold lying around out there."

"Sounds like a long ride," I pointed out, kind of hoping he'd stay with us in case Chilly showed.

"I was figuring on using a boat."

"How you affording such a thing as that?"

The princess answered that question by dipping into her father's beaver-pelt bundle and digging out Chilly's diamond pin, gold dice, and gold cigar clipper, along with a handful of cash. She pressed all of it into the Professor's hands.

"So it was you behind all them aces?" I cried out, finally understanding how the chief had come by the winningest hand in the history of the West.

"'Fraid so," the Professor confessed. "Me and the chief had it all planned out. Not that the chief wasn't grateful for your help, but when it comes to his medicine bundle, he's not about to take any chances. So I agreed to stack some decks for him. I do believe that Chilly's going to be seeing them aces till his dying day, which is why I'm on the road. Once him and Goose get a chance to put their heads together, they'll figure out my part in it. Adios, Zeb. And mind what I said about Chilly Larpenteur and your neck. He ain't the kind of man with a short memory and he ain't no dummy."

Giving his horse a giddyup, he left, cutting back toward town and a steamer pointed toward New Orleans, then a clipper headed for San Francisco, with maybe a stop or two in South America on the way. I reached out to tug on his pant leg and beg to go along, but I came up short when I spied the Professor's chickens taking aim at my hand with their beaks. Gathering myself, I was about to overcome my fear of birds and try again when something else occurred to me: hadn't I once felt this same kind of tingly excitement over the prospects of hooking up with Chilly Larpenteur? Guessing that taking off with another gambler couldn't be called anywhere near smart, I stepped back, letting the opportunity pass. So maybe I'd learned one lesson. The question was, how many more did I have waiting ahead of me?

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

S
OON AS THE
P
ROFESSOR WAS GONE,
the chief had himself a powwow with his pouch and daughter, who argued back till he got short with her.

"We'll take you home now," she announced, sounding sulky about it.

"Come again?" I said.

"You heard me," she grumbled.

"And just how do you know that's where I want to be going?" I came back, snippy-like 'cause I wasn't about to fess up that home was exactly what I'd been pining for. The only other option I seemed to have was throwing myself on my Great-Uncle Seth's mercy, which remained about as appealing as when I'd first met Chilly. I just couldn't sell myself on it.