Devil Moon

Chapter Fourteen

The rosy blush of dawn painted the eastern sky when Dega climbed on the sorrel. He was stiff and hungry, and he dearly wanted to stay. But Evelyn was still insisting he go, so he looked down at her and said, “You be much careful, Evelyn King.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Evelyn replied. “I’ve lived in the wilds all my life. I can take care of myself.”

Dega lifted the reins, then hesitated. “I not like this.”

Evelyn stepped to the rear of his horse. “Off you go, whether you like it or not.” She gave the animal a hard smack, then grinned and waved. “Hurry back, you hear!”

“I will!” Dega promised. He wished the little girl would appear so he didn’t have to go, but she didn’t. He used his heels and brought the sorrel to a trot. The faster he reached King Valley, the better for his peace of mind.

Evelyn watched him ride off with a sinking feeling in her heart. She really didn’t want him to leave, but it had to be done. They needed her ma and her pa. Especially her ma. Her mother was good with children. If anyone could persuade that little girl to come in out of the wilds, it was Winona.

Shadowed woodland at the end of the valley swallowed Dega and his mount. Evelyn sighed and went to the fire and hunkered. She had put coffee on. Her pa was powerful fond of it and he had passed that fondness on to her. Now she couldn’t start her day without a cup or two.

Her father had tried to instill his love of reading in her, too. He read every evening and often took one of his cherished books to bed with him. She would read when she had nothing better to do. Her brother hardly ever read at all. She’d asked Zach once why he hated to read so much and he said that it made his head hurt. Something about the print on the page didn’t agree with him.

The coffee was hot enough. Evelyn filled her tin cup and held it in both hands. She sipped and smacked her lips. She was glad the sun was rising. Ever since she was little, she’d been a smidgen scared of the dark. Her mother said that was natural, but she’d noticed that her brother wasn’t scared of it. Her brother wasn’t scared of anything.

Evelyn wondered why she was thinking of Zach so much. Maybe it was because of all that talk with Dega about having children, and Zach and his wife were going to have a baby. She opened the picnic basket and helped herself to a piece of pemmican.

The woods were quiet. Almost too quiet. Evelyn probed every shadow for sign of the little Tukaduka. She figured the child must have a hiding place, somewhere she was safe. It could be anywhere.

A golden crown lit creation. The sky rapidly brightened and the valley stirred to life.

Evelyn stayed where she was. She would let the girl come to her rather than go searching. She remembered how hungry the girl had been, and with that in mind she filled a pot with water and added bits of pemmican and carrots and wild onions and let it simmer so that its scent filled the clearing and the breeze would carry the aroma a good long way.

The morning passed as slow as a turtle. Evelyn drank three cups of coffee and couldn’t drink any more. The smell of the stew made her mouth water, but she refused to eat.

Now that she was alone, every unusual sound and sight rubbed at her nerves. The rustle of brush, the slightest movement of the vegetation, the distant crash of a limb falling. She kept her Hawken in her lap and a hand on one of her pistols. The truth be known, she didn’t like toting the flintlocks everywhere. They were heavy, and after a long walk they were like anchors around her waist. But her pa had instilled in her that one gun was never enough, that one shot didn’t always kill.

Evelyn looked down at the Hawken in her lap. Her father had had it custom-made for her by the Hawken brothers in St. Louis. It was shorter and lighter than most Hawkens, but it was powerful enough to drop a buffalo provided she hit the buff in the vitals.

The thing was, Evelyn didn’t like to kill. Her brother used to poke fun at her because she wouldn’t even shoot rabbits for the supper pot. He had teased her about being too tenderhearted, or as he put it, “weak in the head.” Which always made her bristle.

Evelyn never could understand why there was so much killing in the world. Why creatures had to kill other creatures. Why people killed other people. Why people had to kill animals to eat. Her father and mother said that was just the way things were, but that wasn’t enough of an answer. She hated to spill blood, human or otherwise. When she was young, that was a large part of the reason she had entertained the notion that she would leave the wilderness one day and live east of the Mississippi, where people could go their whole lives without killing anything except maybe a few flies and mosquitoes.

Evelyn stirred the stew. She raised the wooden spoon to her lips and sipped. Not bad, she thought. The wild onions gave it a potent flavor. She put the spoon in the pot and shifted to relieve a cramp in her leg, and tingled with excitement.

The bait had worked.

Over by an oak stood the little girl. In the daylight she looked worse. Her hair was a tangled mess of dirt with bits of grass and leaves in the tangle. Her dress was a shambles. She was as thin as a broomstick and there were dark shadows under her eyes.

Evelyn almost blurted, My God! Instead she smiled and said quietly in English, “Look who it is.” The girl cocked her head and gave her a quizzical look. “Sorry,” Evelyn said in Shoshone. “I am happy to see you again. Would you like to sit at my fire?”

The girl didn’t move.

“I will not hurt you.”

The girl took a couple of wary steps but came no farther.

“You sure are skittish,” Evelyn said in English, and once again switched to her mother’s tongue. “I am Blue Flower, remember? What is your name? I would very much like to know.”

A slight sound escaped the girl’s throat.

“I am sorry. I did not hear. Will you say your name again?”

The girl mumbled.

“I still do not understand. You must speak louder.”

“Rainbow,” the girl said. “Bright Rainbow.”

Evelyn chuckled. She had broken through. “That is a pretty name. I like rainbows. Do you like rainbows?”

“Yes.”

Evelyn stirred the soup, took a long sip, and smacked her lips. “Are you hungry?”

Bright Rainbow stared longingly at the pot. She rubbed her belly and said, “Very hungry.”

Evelyn patted the ground. “Then come eat. I have plenty. And after you have eaten we can talk.”

“Where is the man?” Bright Rainbow asked.

“I sent my friend away so he would not scare you. There is just you and me.” Evelyn gave the ground a few more pats. “You should eat while the stew is hot.”

Slowly, fearfully, Bright Rainbow approached. She took small steps and was poised to flee at the slightest hint of deception.

Evelyn sat perfectly still and smiled. She was tempted to lunge and grab hold once the girl was close enough, but she stifled the urge. To put her more at ease, she rambled, “Would you like to be my new friend? I would like to be yours. I did not have any sisters growing up and I always wanted one. Girls are easier to talk to than boys. My brother used to say I talk too much and would walk off when I bored him and…”

Bright Rainbow stopped and trembled and said in a tiny voice, “I had brothers.”

Evelyn remembered the remains in the lodge.

“Two of them.”

“I hope they were nicer to you than my brother was to me.”

“They were nice, yes,” Bright Rainbow said. “Fox Tail and Elk Running. It killed them. Both of them.”

“What did?” Evelyn asked, although she knew full well.

“The Devil Cat.”

“The what?”

“My people call it that. I thought my mother made it up. But it was real, as real as you and me.”

“Doyadukubichi,” Evelyn said, which was Shoshone for “mountain lion” or “cougar.”

“Kai.”

“No?”

“It is not a cat. It is a devil.”

By then the girl was near enough for Evelyn to touch. “Have a seat and I will feed you.”

Bright Rainbow folded her legs and delicately perched on her knees, her hands in her lap. She could not take her eyes off the bubbling stew.

“You have not eaten a meal in a while.” Evelyn stated the obvious.

“No.”

Evelyn heard the girl’s stomach growl. She ladled stew into a tin cup and held it out. “I have plenty so eat as much as you want.”

Bright Rainbow stared at the cup as if she had never seen one before. She tentatively went to wrap her hand around it.

“Be careful,” Evelyn cautioned. “It is hot. Use the handle.” She demonstrated how to hold it.

“A great thing,” Bright Rainbow said. She tried a taste and her face lit with pleasure. “You are a good cook, Blue Flower.”

“My mother is ten times as good. Her cakes make your mouth water and her bread is always delicious.”

“My mother…” Bright Rainbow began, and her face clouded. She stopped and bit her lower lip and said, “I miss her. I cry and cry, I miss her so much.”

Against her better judgment Evelyn asked, “What about your father? Did the Devil Cat get him, too?”

“He pushed me in a hole and…” Again Bright Rainbow stopped. Tears welled, and she bowed her head and spoke in a rush. “I saw him die. I saw him turn and stab at the cat with his spear and his knives and I think he cut it, too, but the cat was too big and too strong and it jumped on his chest and pinned him and tore at him with its teeth and its claws and he…” She stopped and shuddered.

Impulsivly, Evelyn threw her arm around the girl’s frail shoulders and pulled her close. “Enough,” she said. “Do not relive his death.”

Bright Rainbow closed her eyes, set down the tin cup, and groaned. She uttered a loud sob and her whole body shook, and suddenly she was weeping in Evelyn’s arms, her face pressed against Evelyn’s dress. She cried and cried and cried and cried some more, and Evelyn held her and stroked her hair and patted her back and said over and over, “There, there.” Bright Rainbow wept herself dry and finally stopped and sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve.

“I am sorry.”

“For what?”

“I made you wet.” Continuing to sniffle, Bright Rainbow pulled away and tucked her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her thin legs.

“It is nothing.”

“I heard him scream.”

“You do not need to tell me,” Evelyn said.

“I saw the Devil Cat tear at him. I saw his blood. He tried not to cry out. He grit his teeth and the veins in his neck stood out and then he threw back his head and he screamed and screamed.”

“Please stop.”

Bright Rainbow quaked. “He looked at me and I saw how scared he was. Then he smiled.”

“Oh God,” Evelyn said in English.

“He smiled and he looked at me as he used to when he held me in his arms and told me that he loved me.” Bright Rainbow pressed her face to her knees. “The cat bit his throat and that was the end.” She wept some more, quietly, her hands clenched so hard, her knuckles were white.

Evelyn was patient with her. She hadn’t lost her parents or her brother, but she had lost friends and others she cared for and keenly remembered her sorrow. She could imagine what the girl was going through.

On all sides of them the valley buzzed and chirped and chattered with life and vitality.

After a long interval Bright Rainbow sniffled and raised her head. Her cheeks glistened but her eyes were dry. “I am sorry.”

“Stop saying that.” Evelyn stroked her matted hair. “Finish your soup and then we’ll talk some more.”

Bright Rainbow ran her sleeve across her face, leaving a smear. She resumed eating, cradling the cup in both hands. She had eaten about half when she turned to Evelyn and said, “As soon as I am done we must leave.”

“You are in no condition to ride,” Evelyn said. She planned to clean the girl up and get more food into her and wait for her folks.

“We must,” Bright Rainbow insisted.

“Finish your stew.”

Bright Rainbow gripped Evelyn’s arm. “You are not listening to me. Heed my words.” She paused. “If we do not leave, we will die.”