The Free Trader of Warren Deep (Free Trader Series Book 1) (4 page)

10 – Not Going

He tied the horses to a post behind the school, a single-story building with numerous rooms on both sides of one main hallway. He stalked down the hall until he saw Ava. She was in her classroom. He waved her to come out, but she shook her head and kept lecturing. The motion made the students turn and look at him. He smiled and waved at them.

As his father had taught him, there were two types of people: customers and potential customers. The children were the latter. One never knew when they’d be working their own deals. Wasn’t it always better to deal with a trader with the winning smile?

The students made ooh and ahh sounds. They knew their teacher was not yet paired, so they were always looking out for her to find that special someone.

Since she had lost control of her class, she told them to practice writing on their boards while she attended to the distraction.

“What are you doing here?” She was not amused.

“What happened? What’s with the security office?” Braden asked in a heavy whisper.

She sighed. “Some men came. One of them became the senior advisor to the mayor. Next thing we know, the mayor’s gone and these men are in charge.” She looked down and shook her head. “Why do you ask?”

“They tried to steal my stuff. The security officer, of all people. They put me in manacles. I’m sorry to say that a couple men died when G refused to let them into the wagon. I need to leave, and I can’t come back.” Braden lifted her chin so she would look at him. “Come with me!” He blurted out. He didn’t know why he asked that. That wasn’t what he planned when he came here.

“I can’t. The children need me.” She hesitated, then in a lower voice. “This is my home. I can’t live on the road, or worse, on the run.” She blinked quickly to keep the tears away. Braden knew the tears weren’t for him. They were for herself. She wanted out, but Braden wasn’t going to be the one to take her away.

He bowed down and kissed her hand. “My lady. May the sunshine bring you joy.” He turned and strode out without looking back. He needed to go.

11 – Good Hunt, Bad Hunt

South to Whitehorse they went. G-War grumbled incessantly as his perch on the pack horse was hardly comfortable and his trip was not restful.

To the east, the rugged Bittner Mountains created the perception of an impenetrable wall. In the blink of an eye, Braden had gone from being a trader to being a nomad. With the loss of his wagon, he lost the means to support himself. Although he had three vials of saffrimander and a healthy pouch of gold and silver, he was hardly poor. But that wasn’t enough to retire in comfort.

Once on the road south, Braden decided that he didn’t want anyone to see him. If other travelers brought word of a man and a ‘cat traveling south on horses, the officials might come after him. He urged his horse Max into the brush. The other horse’s lead was tied to Braden’s saddle. Pack followed mindlessly.

He headed east, driving hard through the scattered trees and brush to get far away from anyone who might see. He pressed forward, long into the fading light, only stopping well after dusk.

G-War jumped down from his perch on their blanketed goods, sat, and started at Braden.

“What?”

‘Hungry,’
the ‘cat replied.

“I know. I am, too.” Braden tried to play it cool, looking back at the ‘cat with a sideways glance.

‘There’s a deer. That way.’
G-War nodded his head to show the direction. He then jumped to a low tree branch, spread eagled, allowing his legs to dangle. He rested his head and looked at Braden through half-closed eyes.

Braden quickly hobbled the horses so they could graze without running off. He took his faithful Rico Bow and a few arrows and headed in the direction of the deer.

He expected the deer was not far. The ‘cat knew what Braden would tolerate.

What Braden didn’t know was how the ‘cat knew where the wildlife was. He’d asked, but G-War couldn’t or didn’t want to explain it. The ‘cat accepted what was, without question. Braden didn’t push it. He appreciated the fact that his hunting consisted less of searching and more killing.

It was almost dark, which could make the shot difficult. Braden hurried as much as he dared. He was hungry, too, his mouth watering at the thought of roasted venison.

He crouched as he stepped carefully along a game trail, seeking to make no noise. He looked for any movement to show where the deer may be. His arrow was nocked. All he needed was to aim, pull, and release.

As he had hoped, the deer was using the same trail. He stopped silently, slowly raising his Rico Bow. The deer gave him a thirty degree shot from the front. He aimed carefully and let it fly. The arrow buried itself to the feathers and the young buck jumped straight into the air, then bound into the brush. Braden heard the crashing as it continued its headlong flight.

‘Damn!’
He thought. He had counted on a clean kill. He hated to see an animal suffer. He also greatly disliked chasing after a wounded animal, especially in the dark.

He tried to run after the deer, but something held his foot. He almost fell down and reached down to free himself, while not losing sight of where the buck had disappeared. His fingers fell upon a vine wrapped tightly around his ankle. He pulled on it. It pulled back.

This time aloud, “Damn!” A mutant tree. He threw his bow to the side and pulled his long knife. Two hand spans of new steel, sharpened on both sides slashed downward through the vine. A second vine snaked toward him, then a third. He slashed them away. He ducked his head to the side and retreated away from the tree. Crawlers generally couldn’t take on a human with a knife, their vines weren’t fast enough. If you fell asleep against one or had no way of cutting yourself free, you would have a tough time.

He picked up his Rico Bow and walked backwards away from the Crawler. They were solitary creatures, so he didn’t worry about running into another one. Not this close anyway.

He turned back along the game trail, getting his bearings, then jogged after the deer. He followed the trail of broken brush, until the blood trail on the ground grew in size. As the deer ran, the arrow caused more and more damage.

There! Twisted in among the brush as it tried to leap one final obstacle, but failed. Braden’s shot had barely missed the heart, but by running, the deer drove the arrow home. The buck was probably dead before he made his final leap.

Even though Braden made quick work of cleaning the buck, it was nearly pitch black by the time he shouldered the carcass to make his way back to his camp. He went slowly, hunched close to the ground to find his way to the game trail.

Even though the buck had only gone about 50 strides, it took Braden a great deal of time to make it back to the trail. He spent most of his time waiting and looking. Finally, the moon cast enough light that he could see. At that moment, he was only one stride away. Once on the trail, he looked for the Crawler, but couldn’t find which tree it was. Speed was defense. The buck had gotten heavy. Field dressed, it weighed far less than he did, but there was a limit to how long he was going to carry it.

With an adrenaline surge, he leapt forward and jogged along the trail, watching the side where the Crawler had come from. Then, he broke through into an opening where two hobbled horses were startled at his appearance, the smell of blood adding to their fear.

He dropped the carcass, and went to the horses, making cooing sounds to calm them. He rubbed each along their necks. He needed the horses, and he needed them to trust him. That was something he still had to earn. He had no sugar crystals for them, but was determined to trade for some next chance he got.

He turned back to find G-War fangs deep into a haunch.

“Really? Ass!” Braden was surprised only for a second. The ‘cat never failed to take care of itself. “Leave some for me you furry little ingrate.” Braden busied himself making a fire. He was even hungrier now.

12 – Smoked Venison

The morning came, bringing fog and dew. It smelled as only a forest can after a spring rain. They had all slept well after a filling meal of venison and some berries from bushes alongside their impromptu camp. The horses had grazed well, too. He found them curled up among the bushes enjoying the sleep of the dead tired.

Braden was a little sore. He had ridden horses before, but never for long. Yesterday’s ride took its toll on his legs and rump. He figured that more sitting would be painful. Maybe he would walk, leading the horses for part of the daylight.

G-War started this turn of the sun with more venison. He grumbled a bit as it wasn’t fresh, but at least it hadn’t spoiled. The ‘cat could eat something long dead and foul beyond what a human could tolerate, but he didn’t like it. That was for survival feeding only.

Braden restoked the fire and put more venison on. He used his knife to cut a number of branches, slightly thicker than his thumb. Then he cut pine branches, heavily laden with needles.  As the fire cooked his breakfast, he fashioned a four-sided pyramid where he tied the branches, creating a number of racks.

Braden removed his nicely cooked venison and chewed contentedly. He waited for the fire to die down, leaving a bed of coals. He put his rack contraption over the coals, not where it would catch fire, but where it could hold the venison for smoking.

He stripped the carcass into long thin strips of meat. He took all the choice cuts, not worrying about cleaning off the bones completely. He placed the strips on the rack until it was full, then piled the pine branches around the outside of the pyramid. He scrounged in the brush until he found choice plants to include with a cherry tree branch. He chopped these up and put them onto the coals to make smoke.

He let the smoke build, feeding more leaves onto the coals at small intervals. One G-War nap later, he pulled down the pine branches, releasing all the smoke into a big puffy cloud. He tucked the hot and smoky strips of meat into a big carry bag. The smoked meat was now cured and would last for weeks if need be. It was important to always have a stock of food and water. For now, water wouldn’t be a problem as numerous creeks ran from the Bittner Mountains. He only had two flasks. They needed a way to carry more water. Much more.

Braden adjusted the loads, putting some of the weight behind him. He spread the load and widened their blanket roll on Pack, giving G-War a better place to ride. Braden knew the ‘cat would still complain, but having a full stomach would ease his discomfort.

“G! You ready to go?” Braden asked. The ‘cat looked at him from his seat at the base of a tree.

‘I am considering killing it while it sleeps.’
The ‘cat closed the mindlink and padded over to Pack, who shied away as the small predator approached. With two quick bounds and a leap, G-War was on the horse’s back. Pack pranced and settled down as it accepted the ‘cat and his place on its back.

“Ass.” Braden adjusted himself in his saddle, trying to find a position that was less painful. It was going to be a long turn.

13 – A Cold-water Surprise

They stopped early in the daylight. Braden’s seat could not take the saddle any longer. He walked for a while, but that provided little relief. They found a stream where the horses, the ‘cat, and Braden lined up and drank their fill. They followed the stream toward the mountains until they came upon a small lake, little more than a pond.

The rule in Warren Deep was the bigger the lake, the bigger the things that could eat you. Braden stayed close to where the lake emptied into the stream. The approaches there were shallow and the water moved quickly.

He undid his long braid and shook his head to let his hair flow. He got to his knees at the edge of the water, where he wet his hair and his head. With sand from the small beach, he rubbed his body, one arm at a time, then each leg. He rinsed each as he finished. He let the water flow over and through his hair. Then cautiously, he waded into the water, a little at a time until he was waist deep. He ducked down quickly until he was completely underwater. The cool water was refreshing.

He stood up and made to back out of the water, but in front of him, two eyes floated out of the water and watched him.
A cold-water croc
, he thought. These weren’t as big as their warm water cousins, but they could still kill you. Braden was in a bad position. The croc had the upper hand. Why hadn’t G-War seen this creature? He was surprised. He knew the ‘cat couldn’t sense fish, but he should have known about the croc.

Braden stood rock still. He moved painstakingly slowly, trying not to disturb the water. The croc was capable of great bursts of speed, but mostly in a straight line. Braden did not have any weapons with him as he was naked. His clothes and knife lay on the beach.

As he watched, smaller crocs appeared behind the big croc. Braden stopped counting at ten. These were just a few hand spans long, nose to tip of their tails. The croc had a brood. Was she protecting them or waiting for them to make the kill? Braden hoped the latter as he could probably outrun the offspring.

He was mid-thigh when the big croc surged forward forcing a wave of water in front of it. Braden backed two steps, but fell down as the water prevented him from running as fast as his mind was telling him to go. He pushed hard to the side as the croc opened its jaws for a bite. The croc snapped down hard, grazing Braden’s leg. The small crocs swam toward him with all the energy their little bodies could muster.

A golden streak flashed by, landing on the big croc’s snout, raking the beast’s eyes in an instant before attempting to leap off. The ‘cat was thrown toward the shore, landing upright in shallow water.

Braden rolled once more until he faced the shore, then high-stepped out of the water. He made an arc toward his clothes, snatching the knife as he ran past. A few of the small crocs on the shore raced after him. He slid to a stop and made a broad swing, parallel to the ground, hammering a couple of the little creatures. They fell aside, broken bodies unmoving. The others came on. Another broad stroke and two more went down.

Braden backed up slowly, hoping the others would come forward. Half of them did. He slashed them to death from a rocky perch that the small crocs couldn’t climb. He jumped down and dispatched the rest of them with reckless abandon.

The large croc continued to thrash about at the water’s edge, infuriated at losing its eyes. He’d heard they were good eating, but had never had the opportunity to try one. Now was his chance. He crept to the side of the croc as it churned up the water and the sand of the shore. With two hands on his knife, he timed his swing as a downward chop on the exposed throat of the croc. Although this was the vulnerable underbelly, it was still far tougher than Braden imagined. He thought he had delivered a killing stroke, but the croc was only made angrier. It was hurt and dangerous.

Braden jumped out of the way as it leapt in his direction. He hopped a couple more times as the croc backed into the water. It struggled to swim, and then it submerged and disappeared from view. Bloody bubbles appeared above what was probably the deepest part of the small lake. Braden didn’t think a dead croc would float, and there was no way he was swimming in there to retrieve it.

He still wouldn’t have the opportunity to try some croc.

Braden put his clothes on, angry at himself for going that deep into the water. He knew better, but it felt too good.

Once he put the knife through his belt, he looked up. In front of him was one very wet Hillcat. G-War’s eyes were slits as he glared at the human. “Whoa. You’ve looked better G.”

Braden took the shirt off that he had just put on and rubbed the ‘cat to help dry him, until G-War scratched his hand, letting him know that there was nothing he could do to redeem himself.

‘Why did it go into the water?’
The ‘cat’s question burst into his mind.

“To clean off the dirt of the road! It’s been how long since we’ve been able to clean up? Believe it or not, humans like to be as clean as any ‘cat.” He nodded emphatically to drive his point home. “By the way, why didn’t you let me know it was there?”

‘There was no problem as long as it didn’t go into the water.’
The ‘cat wasn’t forthcoming with information unless it was clearly needed. Like his help last night with the deer, which showed that self-serving information was the most readily shared. And that was the end of what passed for a reasonable conversation between Braden and the ‘cat.