Into the Unknown

Chapter Eighteen

Life is a fickle mistress. She dispenses happiness and sadness with no regard for those under her sway. I had come to the Rockies for the sole purpose of expanding the horizons of human knowledge, yet my lofty goal counted for nothing when weighed in the balance by the scales of death. I was on the verge of being sent beyond the veil.

“No!” Cutter bellowed. “Don’t you dare!”

Jess Hook did not lower his rifle, but he did look at Cutter and say in annoyance, “I have as much right as you. They killed my brother.”

“She did!” Cutter said, pointing at Blue Water Woman’s unconscious form. “Do what you want with her, but I do fancy pants here.”

“Stop calling me that,” I said.

Cutter’s shirt was bloody, and scarlet drops were dripping over his belt and down his leg. “I mean it. Look at what he did to me. He’s mine, and that’s that.”

Jess Hook straightened. “All right. The squaw is mine and he’s yours. But we should take a look at you first. You’re bleeding bad.”

“I hardly feel it,” Cutter said. “We’ll look when I’m done with him and not before.”

And just like that, he sprang.

I was not prepared. My head was still fuzzy and I was staring at Blue Water Woman, not at him. As it was, I evaded his knife only because I instinctively threw myself backward, and in doing so, tripped over my own feet. His blade cleaved air inches from my throat.

I landed on my back and scrambled away from him using my elbows and heels. Cutter came after me, slicing at my legs. I rolled to the right and pushed to my knees.

Cold steel arced toward my chest. I countered, and my knife rang on his. It jarred my arm to the bone.

Cutter was incensed. He redoubled his efforts, thrusting and slashing. I reacted without thinking and managed to block or avoid his blows. Suddenly he drew back, breathing heavily, which enabled me to get to my feet.

“Let me shoot him!” Jess Hook offered.

“No!” Cutter had his other hand pressed to his gut. The dark stain had spread and the top of his pants were now crimson.

“We’ll tie him and you can kill him after I stitch you up!” Jess hollered.

“No,” Cutter said again, and came at me in a fury.

How I stayed alive I will never know. His blade glittered and streaked. I dodged and ducked and danced to one side or the other. Self-preservation is a powerful instinct, and I attribute the fact that I was unscathed when he stopped and stepped back to a force beyond myself.

We were now a good thirty feet from Jess Hook, who yelled, “Damn it, Cutter! You’re killing yourself!”

Cutter did not look well. He was pasty, his face sprinkled with beads of sweat. He swayed slightly as he stood there glaring at me. His lips were drawn back from his teeth so that he seemed more akin to a rabid beast than a rational human being.

What makes people do what he was doing? Why, in the face of all reason, do we ignore what is best for us and do that which will only heap hardship on our heads? Is it pride that makes us think we are immune to the folly of our actions? Or is it that we think we are invincible when we are not? Whatever the cause, I was grateful Cutter was no different from any other mortal; he was too stubborn for his own good.

“Did you hear me?” Jess Hook shouted.

“Quit pestering me!”

“Fine. You’re on your own.”

Hefting his knife, Cutter crouched. “It’s you or me. I won’t stop until one of us is done for.”

“You should listen to him and let him bandage you.” I was stalling.

Cutter cocked his head. “I hate you.”

Why he said that, at that moment, was a mystery to me. But it was not all he had to say.

“I hate you more than I have ever hated anyone or anything. You are all that is wrong with this world. You are why I am as I am.”

That made no sense whatsoever. I figured the loss of blood had brought on delirium. “We are each of us accountable for our own actions,” I responded.

“There you go again, using big words. I hate that, too.”

Now I ask you, where was the logic in that? Why hate a person’s vocabulary? “What you need is a cup of tea. My grandmother always claimed that calms the nerves.”

For some reason that drove Cutter berserk. Roaring like a mad bear, he charged me, his knife weaving a tapestry of death.

I did the only thing I could.

I turned and ran.

A string of swear words blistered my ears as I weaved through the aspens with all the speed I could muster. I risked a look over my shoulder to see if Cutter was after me.

He was.

I had never seen anyone so furious. His face was so red, it was virtually purple. Rage contorted his features. His eyes were filled with red lines, and his nostrils were distended. His chest rose and fell in great gasps.

I am not fleet of foot. Under ordinary circumstances, Cutter would have caught me with no difficulty. But he was severely wounded, and his wound slowed him. I, on the other hand, was spurred by my fear. I ran for all I was worth. Reaching deep down inside of me, I called on reserves of stamina I did not know I had.

“Come back!” Jess Hook bellowed. “You are in no shape for a foot race, you damned fool!”

My adversary paid no heed. He wanted me dead, and he would stop at nothing until he achieved that end.

As if to confirm it, Cutter screeched, “I am going to kill you! Kill you, kill you, kill you!”

Jess Hook did not come after us. Maybe he thought Cutter would be mad if he did, although how Cutter could get any madder was beyond me. I ran and ran, Cutter never more than a few steps behind me. One slip of my foot and he would be on me, stabbing and slicing.

I kept glancing back to be sure he was not gaining. Along about the tenth or eleventh time, I rounded an aspen, and there, directly in front of me, was another. I tried to veer to the right but the tree was too close. I slammed into it and the impact knocked me off my feet.

The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back, dazed and in agony, and Cutter was standing over me, sucking air, half his shirt bright scarlet, his knife poised to finish me off. He grinned in triumph. “I have never wanted to kill anyone so much in my entire life.”

I had dropped my knife when I hit the tree. Unarmed and unable to rise, I was as good as done for.

Cutter tensed for the fatal thrust. Suddenly blood trickled from a corner of his mouth, and then from the other corner. A strange look came over him. “No!” he exclaimed, and staggered back a step. “Not like this!” He steadied himself and again raised the knife, only to have a river of red gush over his lower lip.

I was stupefied. Belatedly, it occurred to me that this was a result of my stabbing him. He should have listened to Jess Hook.

I pushed against the ground and sat up. My hand came down on a familiar object, and a second later I held the knife Blue Water Woman had given me. But I did not use it. There was no need.

Cutter’s arms had drooped and his chin had dipped to his chest. He groaned, then attempted to speak. But all that came out was a frothy gurgle. His legs buckled and he slowly sank to his knees.

I just as slowly stood. “Do you see what comes of being evil?”

Cutter opened and closed his mouth a few times but all that came out was more blood. A fit of coughing doubled him over. When it ended, he spat and looked up at me. “I can’t tell you how much I hate you.”

“Do you want those to be your last words?” I asked.

They were. Life fled from Cutter’s eyes. Like pudding poured into a bowl, he oozed to the earth, quivered and was still.

I mopped my forehead with my sleeve. My relief, though, was short-lived. I abruptly remembered Blue Water Woman was at Jess Hook’s mercy.

She needed me.

My legs were leaden, but I willed them to move. Each second was an eternity of anxiety. When, at last, I came in sight of Jess Hook’s horse, my worry knew no bounds; he was not on it. I sped past more aspens and saw him, on his knees beside Blue Water Woman. She had not revived, and he was slapping her to bring her around.

“Wake up, squaw! I want you to feel it when I do you!”

When it comes to stealth I am a blind cow. But by stepping on the balls of my feet and watching for twigs, I crept within fifteen feet of him without him being aware. He slapped Blue Water Woman twice more, and suddenly she was staring up at him as calmly as you please.

“You have hit me enough.”

Jess Hook laughed. “Hell, I am just getting started. For what you did to Jordy you will die a tiny piece at a time.”

I slunk forward, hoping I could get close enough to use the knife. But would I? The decision was taken from my hands when Jess Hook stood, stepped back from Blue Water Woman, and leveled his rifle at her knee.

“We will start with your legs and work up. Feel free to scream all you want. No one will hear.”

I cleared my throat. “I would rather you didn’t do that.”

Jess spun, his legs spread wide, ready to shoot. Astonishment rendered him mute but only for a few seconds. “You!” he blurted. “Where is Cutter?”

“Dead,” I said.

“Not in a million years, mister. Where is he really?”

“Wherever scum like him go to when they give up the ghost.” I was trying to provoke him, and I succeeded. He took a step toward me, his finger curling around the trigger.

“If you are not blowing smoke, then I get to make worm food of both of you.” Jess tucked his rifle to his shoulder. “You I’ll do quick. Smack between the eyes.”

Once again I stared death in the face.

Then it happened.

I saw the whole thing.

Blue Water Woman’s arm appeared between Jess Hook’s legs. Her hand rose to his belt and wrapped around a pistol. He felt her yank it free, and gave a start. Before he could think to grab it, she pressed the muzzle to his groin, the barrel angled up, and fired.

Stars sparkled in the firmament later that night. In the distance a wolf howled. The night was pleasantly cool this high up.

I took a sip of steaming hot coffee. “You are leaving it up to me? Whether we go back down or stay so I can paint and sketch?”

“Whichever you like,” Blue Water Woman said. “After what we have been through, I imagine you can use some rest.”

“It shows how little you know me,” I teased. “Bring on the paint and the canvas.”

“You are strange, Robert Parker,” Blue Water Woman said.

“Strange as in special?”

“No. Strange as in male. All men are. But we women put up with you.”

Her smile made me warm all over.