Into the Unknown

Chapter Five

True to Ceran St. Vrain’s prediction, Augustus Trevor was not pleased. “I refuse to let you go. It is too dangerous.”

“In case you have forgotten,” I responded, “I hired you, not the other way around. I make the decisions. You must abide by them.”

“But this is Zachary King we are talking about. He is a killer many times over. The worst ever, some folks say.”

“Exaggerations, Mr. Trevor. Wild exaggerations.”

Trevor shook his head. “I wish you would give it more thought. You will be completely on your own. I have never been to King Valley, and I don’t know anyone who has. They say it is so well hidden, finding it is impossible.”

“Zach King knows how to get there,” I said dryly.

“Make light of it all you want. But I beg you to reconsider. I will worry myself sick until you get back.”

“You are a good man, Augustus.”

The scout sighed. “I could just shoot you.”

He did not understand why I laughed so hard.

The next morning broke clear and crisp. I hurriedly dressed and went out to the square to await Zach King. Few others were out and about. One of the Bent brothers was opening shutters. He waved to me, and I waved back, then drifted toward the stable. I had no purpose other than killing time.

The stable doors were open. But then, they always were. There was no need to close and bar them when the stable was surrounded by high adobe walls, a sentry was always posted at the gate, and more men manned the ramparts.

I was almost to the shadowy entrance when several shapes materialized in its depths. Out came the three people I least desired to run into.

Jess Hook was carrying a half-empty whiskey bottle. He took a long swig and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Passing the bottle to his brother, he spotted me. His face split into a vicious grin, and he came toward me, walking unsteadily. “Well, well, well. Look at what we have here. It’s the fancy gent who thinks he’s better’n everyone.”

“I don’t want trouble, Mr. Hook,” I said. His brother and the other one, Cutter, stared at me with ill-concealed resentment. That they disliked me so intensely without real cause mystified me.

“Well, you have got trouble,” Jess Hook said.

The smart thing for me to do was to walk away, but I was still smarting over their treatment of me the day before. “So much as raise a hand to me, and I will see to it that your actions are brought to the attention of the post’s owners.”

“I don’t like to be threatened,” Jess said. He did not have his rifle, but a pair of flintlocks were wedged under his belt.

“What you like or don’t like is of no consequence,” I retorted. “If it had not been for Zach King, there is no telling what you would have done to me yesterday.”

Cutter scowled and started toward me, his hands on his knives. “How about if I show you?” But as he went to pass Jess Hook, the latter gripped his arm.

“No.”

“Let go. I don’t like him. I don’t like him one little bit.”

“Not here,” Jess Hook said, with a bob of his chin at the broad square. “We get the Bent boys or St. Vrain mad at us and they’ll toss us out and won’t ever let us back in.”

Cutter’s scowl faded but not the flinty glint in his dark eyes. “For now, then. But only for now.”

I’d had about enough of their attitude. “Listen to yourselves. Grown men, and you go around blustering and posturing like ten-year-olds. No more, I say. You will leave me alone, here and elsewhere.”

“Was that a threat, Big Words?” Jordy Hook said.

“I have eight men in my party,” I informed them, “including Augustus Trevor, who I am sure you must have heard of, living on the frontier as you do. The next time you presume on my good graces, I will let Mr. Trevor and the rest deal with you.”

“We know Trevor,” Jess Hook said. “He’s a tough one, but he’s not us.”

“What does that mean?” I demanded. My anger swelled when all they did was look at one another and smirk. “Are you saying that you are not afraid to tangle with Trevor? Then how about Zach King?”

“King?” Jess Hook repeated.

“He made you back down yesterday,” I gloated. “And soon I expect to leave with him for the valley where he and his family live. I will be in his company for weeks.” My intent was to show them that if they persisted in imposing on my good nature, they might have to answer to the most widely feared man on the frontier.

“He is taking you to King Valley?” Jess Hook asked in considerable surprise. “No one knows where it is except the Kings and that old goat Shakespeare McNair.”

“So I have been told,” I said.

“Folks say there’s a reason the Kings keep it a secret,” Jess went on. “They say the Kings found gold, and they’re afraid that if words gets out, their valley will be overrun.”

This was news to me. “I wouldn’t know anything about any gold. My only interest is the wildlife.”

“What is it you call yourself again?”

“A naturalist.”

“And you expect us to believe you’re more interested in critters than being rich?” Jess Hook laughed. “Mister, one of us is pulling the other’s leg, and it ain’t me.”

“Believe what you will, but leave me be.” I pivoted on my heel and strode off. I was simmering inside. I tried to tell myself that I shouldn’t let three crude louts upset me so much. I was halfway to the trading post when I was hailed, and I promptly forgot about the unsavory trio in the excitement of seeing the man who had cowed them. I hurried to meet him. “Good morning. I have been waiting for you. I hope you haven’t changed your mind.”

Zach King placed the stock of his rifle on the ground and leaned on it. “I was up most of the night thanks to you. But when I give my word, I keep it.”

“You lost sleep over taking me to your valley?”

“I wish my pa was here. It is his decision to make, not mine.”

I was perplexed. “You are a grown man. Surely you can make up your own mind.”

“It’s not that,” Zach said. “I told you. We like our privacy. If word of how to find our valley ever got out, we would have hunters and trappers and you-name-it paying us a visit every time we turned around.”

“And gold seekers,” I mentioned. “Rumor has it your family made a rich strike.”

“I’ve heard that nonsense,” Zach said. “It started when Shakespeare paid for some supplies with a nugget he found years ago. Tongues commenced to wag, and pretty soon that nugget turned into a vein of pure gold somewhere in our valley. We tell people it’s not true, but they think we’re lying.” He let out a long sigh. “When folks get silly notions like that into their heads, nothing you can say will change their minds.”

“What was it you said to Cutter yesterday? Oh, yes, now I remember,” I said. “‘Stupid is as stupid does.’”

“Exactly.” Zach smiled.

“To get back to the issue at hand,” I said. “Don’t keep me in suspense. When do we head out?”

With obvious reluctance, Zach said, “First you must agree to the conditions.”

“I already said you can blindfold me. What else is there?”

“You will do as I say at all times. No arguments. Ever. When it comes time to blindfold you, if I catch you trying to peek from under it, we go our separate ways. Once we reach the valley, you are not to leave it for any reason until you are done doing whatever it is you do. Then me or one of the others will escort you out. Blindfolded, of course.”

“Of course,” I said. “Your requests seem reasonable enough.”

“They are not requests,” Zach warned. “If, at any time, I suspect you are up to no good, I will take whatever steps are called for.” He studied me. “I hope to God you are sincere. If this is a trick, if later you bring others to our valley, I will kill you.”

“Just like that?” I bantered, and snapped my fingers.

“Just like that,” Zach King said.

Something in his tone persuaded me I should take him seriously. “It’s no trick. I promise. So how soon do we leave?”

“I have some supplies to buy,” Zach replied. “We will head out about two this afternoon.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“Just so you understand,” Zach said, and pointed to the west. “You have never been in the mountains. You have no idea what it’s like. I will do my best, but I can’t promise that you will make it back alive.”

“Honestly,” I said with a grin. “It won’t work. You can’t scare me into changing my mind.”

“You don’t get it,” Zach responded. “You think I am making much ado about nothing, as Shakespeare McNair would say. But the plain truth is that in the wild it is do or die. Nature does not play favorites. A mistake can cost you your life.”

“You have managed well enough,” I said. “You and your entire family. Including a younger sister, I hear.” I chuckled. “If she manages, so can I.”

“My sister and I were raised in the wilderness. We know all the animals and their ways. We know the plants and the trees. We can read the land, the weather and the stars. We never get lost. Can you say the same?”

“The sun rises in the east and sets in the west,” I glibly responded. “How hard can it be?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Again Zach sighed. “You will find out for yourself soon enough. Be sure to bring a rifle and two pistols and a water skin if you have one.”

“I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

The next several hours went by in a rush. Before I knew it, it was noon, and I sat down to eat with Trevor and Jeffers and the rest. The scout sought to talk me out of going, but I was immune to his entreaties. Finally I held up my hand.

“Enough. I appreciate your concern. I truly do. But I have made up my mind. You are to wait here until I return. I will pay you the same as I would if we were on the trail.”

“If you insist,” the scout said. “But mark my words. You will regret your decision.”

“Zach King was right,” I teased. “Much ado about nothing.”

At ten minutes until two, I was at the gate on my horse, a rifle in one hand and the lead rope to the pack horse in the other. I had not seen Zach since morning and half feared he had changed his mind and slipped away without my noticing. Then he approached leading his mount and pack animal.

Ceran St. Vrain was at his side.

I suppose I was beaming like an idiot because they looked at each other and Zach King shook his head.

“I came to see you off,” St. Vrain said. “Unless I can prevail on you to change your mind.”

“You, too?” I accused.

“Augustus Trevor came to see me,” St. Vrain revealed. “He begged me to use whatever small influence I might have to convince you that you are making a mistake.”

“The nerve,” I said. It seemed to me that everyone thought I was a total imcompetent.

“You are determined to go through with this, aren’t you?”

“Need you ask?”

“You are a grown man,” St. Vrain said. “But there is a saying out here that you should give some thought to.” He paused. “You can talk sense to a smart man but not to a fool.”

“That was harsh,” I said.

“Mr. Parker, I flatter myself that I know the frontier better than most. I can not stress the perils enough. So far you have had it remarkably easy. Oh, yes, I heard about the stampede, but in general your prairie crossing was free of mishaps, thanks in large measure to Augustus Trevor.” St. Vrain indicated the gate. “Once you go through there, you take your life in your hands. Zach, here, will do his best to keep you alive, but there is only so much he can do, and I would hate for—”

I held up my hand. “Enough.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No more,” I declared. “As you pointed out, I am a grown man. It is my decision to make, and I have made it. Nothing you or anyone else can say will change my mind.”

“Very well then,” St. Vrain said stiffly.

“Hear me out,” I went on. “I am a naturalist. My passion is life in all its variety. I collect specimens. I paint animals and flowers and trees. The Rockies are a treasure trove for those in my profession. Only two other naturalists that I know of have been there before me. The opportunities are boundless. If I were to back out, I might as well shovel manure for a living.”

“I will not argue with such eloquence,” St. Vrain said. “May you find all that you are looking for, and may the Almighty in His omniscience spare you from your folly.”

I thanked him, we shook hands, and he gave the order to have the gate opened. Zach King had been strangely silent during our exchange, and I said to him, “What? No comments to add?”

“Since you asked, there is another expression we have in these parts.” Zach looked at me. “Every coon digs his own grave.”

On that note I followed him out of the trading post and off into the dark heart of the unknown.