Slocum and the Spirit Bear (9781101618790) (10 page)

Slocum recognized the edge in the Indian's voice. It was a cold sharpness to his tone that told him more than the words themselves. “This Spirit Bear has come after you, hasn't it? Hurt someone you know?” When Hevo stared at him, Slocum pressed on. “You know an awful lot about this man, but you talk like he's not one of your own. There's more hate than fear in your voice, but both of those things are in there. Sounds to me like you owe a whole lot of loss to Spirit Bear.”

“I do.”

There was plenty more to that story, but Slocum knew that if Hevo wanted to tell it, he would have. He could also tell by the firm set of the Indian's jaw and the fire in his eyes that there was no way he could force the man to say anything he didn't want to say. “So I guess that only leaves one more thing.”

“Just one?” Hevo scoffed.

“Why did you let yourself be brought this far? Did you see what you wanted to see?”

“I have seen your wagons for days and I knew Spirit Bear would come for you. I also thought all of the men protecting those wagons would be like the loud ones who brought me here. Men like those do not listen to quiet words and they do not believe anything a Cheyenne or Pawnee would say. If not for the women and children within those wagons, I would have left those loud men to whatever deaths Spirit Bear might inflict upon them. But those children did not ask to be brought here. Those women are not the loud ones with the guns.”

“Well,” Slocum said while shifting his eyes toward the wagon where Vera McCauley watched him like a hawk, “that's true for most of those women.”

“If I let the loud men capture me and ask their questions, they might believe what I told them.”

“And you still made it all the way back here?”

Hevo shrugged. “They did not ask any questions.”

Ed broke away from the wagon train, riding the horse he'd brought along for scouting duty. He carried a shotgun, which he kept nestled in the crook of one arm until he got close enough to point it at Hevo without putting Slocum in harm's way. “What's this man doing here, John?” he asked.

“Didn't Josiah tell you?”

“He spouted off plenty, but I wanted to hear it from you.”

Hevo's grim frown shifted into a partial smirk that was just big enough for Slocum to catch a hint of it. Either the Indian was acknowledging the fact that he'd been correct to write Josiah and Tom off as idiots or he was relishing the indecision written across the white men's faces.

“This man here says he saw the same thing we did,” Slocum announced. “That howling lunatic with the friends covered in leaves.”

Ed shifted in his saddle. “He . . . saw it, too? The more I think about it, the more I wonder if I wasn't just out of my head for a spell. Maybe I got knocked with a rock or was imagining things.”

“This is part of Spirit Bear's strength,” Hevo said. “He makes you doubt your eyes and ears while his Dirt Swimmers tear at you from all sides. And when he decides the time is right, he separates your head from your neck.”

“Spirit Bear?” Ed asked.

“Yeah,” Slocum said. “Something even the tribes are scared of. I say we listen to what this man has to say.”

“Fine, but he can't come with us like that. Josiah says he bound his hands before and you cut him loose.”

“That's right, and I'll—”

“Here,” Hevo said while extending his arms and holding his wrists together. “The loud ones will insist on it anyway.”

“Yes,” Ed replied. “They sure will.”

10

Even though Ed wanted to bring the wagons to a halt so he could hear what the Indian had to say, Slocum thought it best that they keep rolling. Part of his reasoning was that the hotter heads among the group would cool down a bit once they saw that Hevo didn't pose an immediate threat, and if he did, he could be contained well enough. Another part of Slocum's decision was to just keep pushing onward and get out of Spirit Bear's hunting grounds that much sooner. After all, when a man found himself in a burning house, the best course of action was to put the fire behind him as quickly as he could.

To ease everyone's mind, Hevo's arms and legs were trussed up tight and he was placed in the back of Josiah's wagon at the back of the train. Slocum brought up the rear, watching the wagon diligently so that if Hevo somehow wriggled loose, he would be seen dropping onto open ground without getting close to any of the families. He was less worried about Hevo than about Josiah trying to do away with the Indian. If the gunshot Slocum had fired as a joke hadn't reached Josiah's ears, there was no telling what he would have done to the prisoner. For that matter, since Hevo seemed to have allowed himself to be captured, there was no telling what would have happened if Josiah had tried to push what he'd thought was the upper hand.

So the wagons moved on. Hardly a word was spoken apart from what needed to be said. The children were kept out of sight. The women were given shotguns to defend themselves. The men kept their rifles where they could get to them at a moment's notice. It was as if they'd wandered into a war zone. If Slocum didn't feel his own nerves jangling inside him, he might be amused at how much dust could get kicked up by one unarmed man who was tied up like a prize calf and wedged in between a pair of cabinets inside a covered wagon.

With everyone so focused on their tasks, the wagons made good time that day. They covered plenty of ground and didn't even consider making camp until almost every trace of sunlight had faded from the sky. A fire was built and Franco emerged from his wagon to put a meal together. Slocum so rarely saw the cook that he sometimes forgot Franco was there. Seeing the man with the plump belly carrying out pots and sacks of peeled vegetables did everyone some good. Spirits were lifted even more as the scent of Franco's beef stew started drifting through the air.

Once everyone looked to be situated in what they were doing, Slocum approached Josiah's wagon. He was stopped by the rifle in the owner's hands.

“I'll have you know somethin', Slocum,” Josiah snarled from behind his Winchester. “Anyone gets hurt on account of bringing that redskin along with us, their blood is on your hands.”

“What are you planning on doing with that rifle, Josiah?”

“I'll put that Injun down like a damn dog if I have to. Same thing I'll do to you if that's what it takes.”

Slocum locked eyes with him. “Stand aside.”

Muttering under his breath, Josiah moved along to join the women gathered around the campfire. Slocum held off before taking another step, since it seemed there were others who wanted to have a word with him.

Tom and Ed circled around the other side of the wagons, where light from the fire could barely reach them. They brandished their weapons and wore severe expressions upon their faces. “What are you doing there, John?” Tom asked.

Slocum looked down at the shotgun in Tom's hands and said, “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Stepping past the fat man, Ed held his pistol so that it was pointed at the ground. “If you mean to speak with that Indian, you shouldn't do it alone.”

“Agreed,” Slocum said. “But I don't intend on my conversation turning into an execution.”

“We're not killers,” Ed replied with a distasteful scowl. “We're just defending ourselves. If that man doesn't mean to do us any harm, I'll set him free myself. I know you've only ridden with us a short while, but isn't that long enough to not be so suspicious of our intentions?”

“I didn't think I had to worry about your intentions so much as Josiah's.”

“He's just doing what's best for us as well,” Ed explained.

“It's mighty easy to talk that way now. We've tied up a man in there and brought him this far. Some might call that kidnapping.”

Ed's expression shifted when he heard that. Not only was he nervous about the man being held in Josiah's wagon, but the weight of the entire day's events hit him like a load of bricks. It took Tom an extra couple of seconds, but he made the same realization before long.

“Jesus,” Ed sighed. “After all that happened, I guess I just wasn't thinking straight.”

“I wasn't either,” Slocum admitted. “Otherwise I would have stepped in a lot earlier.”

“But what if that redskin does mean us harm?” Tom asked.

“I propose we decide that for ourselves right now and either help him get back to where he needs to be or hand him over to the law in the closest town.”

“John's right,” Ed said. “Let's get him out of that wagon and talk to him man to man.”

Slocum pulled back the cover to Josiah's wagon and found nothing but a pile of ropes where Hevo should have been. He drew his Colt and climbed inside, ready for an attack from any direction. Due to the furniture, crates, and supplies stacked inside the wagon, there was barely enough room for one prisoner to sit in plain sight. Hiding wasn't much of an option.

The ropes were sticky with a wet substance. When Slocum got outside, where he had light from the full moon as well as the nearby fire, he could see the substance was dark in color and already drying. It smelled of copper, making him certain it was blood.

“John!” Ed shouted. “Get out here!”

Slocum climbed down from the wagon and drew his pistol. Ed and Tom were nearby with their weapons held at the ready. Josiah sidestepped away from the fire, his rifle already placed to his shoulder and pointed at a lone man who approached from the opposite side of the trail. “You see?” Josiah shouted. “I told you that damn redskin was dangerous!”

“He's also got his hands raised and if he'd meant to attack us,” Slocum said, “he could have done it easily by now.”

A rush of panic worked through the others near the fire. Slocum knew there was precious little time before someone would pull their trigger and make things turn even uglier. “Mind if we have a word with you?” he asked.

Hevo shook his head.

“Are you armed?”

Hevo stopped, lowered himself to his knees, and placed both hands on top of his head. The other three armed men rushed forward, but Slocum made certain to get to the Indian first. Once there, he placed his hands on top of Hevo's to hold them in place while the others surrounded him. His simple clothes fit tightly on him, making it easy to see he carried nothing. Even so, Ed searched him quickly and confirmed he was unarmed.

“I say we kill him anyway,” Josiah said. “He's just gonna keep dogging our trail. The son of a bitch probably told them bushwhackers where to find us already!”

“They would just have to look for the wagons or our fires,” Slocum said. “Besides, he could only have been free for a few minutes. I was riding behind the wagons all day long. The only time he could have slipped away was when we were making camp. You need more proof than that, check the ropes in your wagon. The blood hasn't even had a chance to dry yet.”

Josiah shoved past everyone and climbed into the wagon like he was on a mission. Judging by the look on his face when he emerged with the ropes, that mission hadn't gone well. “The blood's still wet,” he admitted, “but that don't prove nothin'.”

“The fact that he's here now and conducting himself in a peaceful manner proves something to me,” Ed said. “At the very least, it proves he deserves to be heard.”

Looking at Hevo as though the other man were crawling with lice, Josiah said, “What the hell could a damn Injun have to say that's worth hearin'?”

“I know something about the demon that attacked you,” Hevo said. His words were simple and straightforward, but they froze the others in their spots as surely as if the howling thing had lifted its luminescent head directly in front of them.

Vera McCauley and her son both looked over to them. Even though the boy seemed less frightened than his mother, it wasn't much of a stretch for Slocum to assume others around the fire could overhear the men's conversation. He placed a hand upon Hevo's shoulder and directed him toward a fallen log several yards from the campsite. “Why don't we take this somewhere with a bit more privacy?” Slocum said.

Tom and Ed took a seat upon one log, and when Hevo made it clear he would remain standing, Josiah pointed a shotgun at him and told him to sit.

“No need for that kind of thing,” Ed said. “He knows he's outgunned.” Looking to Hevo, he asked, “You hungry?”

Hevo looked at him but did not respond one way or the other.

Ed holstered his Smith & Wesson. “How about we fetch you some supper anyway? You already been through enough. Forcing you to go without while the rest of us eat Franco's stew would just be cruel. Tom, how about you fix up a plate for our friend here?”

“Friend?” Tom snapped.

“Did he harm you in any way?”

“No, but—”

“As far as you know, did he do anything other than follow you for a while when you were out riding before?” Ed asked.

Tom's eyes lowered as if he was feeling too guilty to look any of them in the face. “No.”

“Then he's a friend . . . for now.”

Reluctantly, Tom got back to his feet and went over to where Franco had set up his collection of pots and tin serving plates.

Everyone else but Josiah sat on one of the logs. The grizzled rifleman stood behind Hevo with his shotgun pointed squarely at the Indian's back. When Hevo twisted around to get a look at his self-appointed guard, Slocum explained, “This is just a precaution, you understand. Until we all get to know each other a little better.”

Hevo nodded, turned back around, and placed his hands upon his bent knees. “I understand.”

“So,” Ed said in a manner that was meant to sound calm, but came across as forced and nervous, “why did you come back after you got away?”

“Spirit Bear hunts you,” Hevo said. “He hunts me. He hunts us all.”

“Why?” Slocum asked. “Just because we're crossing the land he staked out for himself?”

Hevo shook his head. “Spirit Bear knows no territorial boundaries. He is a murderous demon with coyote blood running through his veins.”

“What the hell's that supposed to mean?” Josiah grunted.

“The trickster,” Slocum said. Locking eyes with Hevo, he explained, “Indian chiefs tell stories about a trickster spirit. It shows itself as a coyote. Isn't that right?”

“Everyone in my tribe knows about Coyote,” Hevo said. “And yes. He is the trickster.”

“So that means this Spirit Bear is after something other than protecting his land?”

Hevo nodded.

Nudging Hevo with the barrel of the shotgun, Josiah said, “Mind telling us what that might be?”

“I do not know why he kills,” Hevo replied. “He speaks of hate for the white man, but he also has made war with other tribes as well. Spirit Bear has plagued other hunting grounds before this one. He and his Dirt Swimmers rise up in a desert or in the mountains or in a prairie and spill the blood of good people. He does not care about the color of their skin, which tribe they are born to, or even if they are merely crossing from one spot to another. He plagued the Sioux and even visited his death upon the Cherokee Nation. He burned the houses of white men's families and attacked their trading caravans, spilling their wagons onto the ground, only to leave food and weapons scattered among the bodies and dirt.”

“He's got to be after something,” Slocum said.

Even in the scant bit of light that made it over to them from the fire, it was plain to see Ed's face had lost a good amount of its color. “Maybe he is a demon,” he said. “I saw that thing with my own eyes. You did, too, John. No man looks like that. And them others that came up from the ground. They're called Dirt Swimmers?”

“Yes,” Hevo said.

“They can't be human either.”

This was the moment that Tom returned to the conversation. His eyes were wide and he seemed about ready to drop the plate of stew he'd brought over from the fire. “Not human?” he gasped. “You mean it really is a spirit?”

“No,” Slocum growled. “Now sit down and lower your voice, for Christ's sake!”

Back at the fire, Theresa took it upon herself to stand up and start gathering the children so they could tell stories or sing a song. Her attempts to distract them from what the men were saying seemed to be successful, but Vera bowed her head and covered her face with her hands.

“What we're talking about is a man,” Slocum said loudly enough for the entire camp to hear. “He may not be the sort of man we've come across before, but he's still a man. When you add in those others that were with him, you just get a gang of men. I've dealt with plenty of them.”

Slocum sat down and put his back to the fire. When any of the other men spoke after that, they didn't have to be told to keep their voice down so as not to disturb the children playing and singing nearby.

“What about what we saw, John?” Ed asked. “The way that thing glowed. The sounds it made. That wasn't nothing like any man I've ever seen.”

“Have you ever been drugged?” Slocum asked.

The question caught Ed as well as Tom and Josiah off their guard. After a few quick blinks, Ed asked, “You mean like have I ever had medicine?”

“No. I mean something like opium.”

“Or peyote,” Hevo added.

This time, the men regarded both Hevo and Slocum with the same kind of cautious confusion.

“I had me some peyote once,” Josiah said.