Seed of Evil

Chapter Two

The mountain man was being followed.

Nate King woke at dawn, as was his habit. He kindled the embers of his fire and put the coffeepot on. He could go without food in the morning, but he refused to go without coffee. His wife liked to tease that he wouldn’t need to make as many long rides to Bent’s Fort if his will wasn’t mush.

Nate had two addictions in life, coffee and books. He was an avid reader, everything from James Fenimore Cooper to Mary Shelley to Plato. As he waited for the coffee to perk, he opened the beaded parfleche his wife had made for him and took out his copy of Thomas Paine’s The Rights of Man. He was about to open it to where he had left off when his bay raised its head, stared off to the west, and whinnied.

Nate looked up. He was well out on the prairie, amid rolling swells of grass pockmarked by wallows and split by gullies. The rising sun cast a golden glow that caused the morning dew to sparkle. He saw neither man nor animal. The bay was still staring, though, so he shoved the book back into the parfleche, picked up his Hawken, and strode a few yards from the fire.

The prairie spread to the horizon. He had the illusion he and his horse were the only living things in all that vastness. But that’s all it was, an illusion. The prairie teemed with life, and not all of it was friendly. There were grizzlies and wolves and cougars. There were hostiles who would like nothing better than to count coup on a white. Sometimes there were white men who preyed on other white men for no other reason than the coins in their poke.

Nate had lived in the wilderness a good many years. He’d lasted as long as he had because he never let down his guard. So it was that when he sat back down and resumed sipping his coffee, he kept an eye on his back trail and caught the glint of the sun on metal. He didn’t let on that he had seen. He finished his coffee, saddled his bay, and got under way.

Buckskins clung to Nate’s big frame. His broad chest was crisscrossed by a possibles bag, an ammo pouch, and a powder horn. Around his waist was a brace of flintlocks, a bowie knife, and a tomahawk. A walking armory, some would call him.

Nate held the bay to a walk, acting as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Now and again he casually looked over his shoulder. Twice more he saw the gleam. It was closer each time.

Nate came to a hillock and went around. As soon as he was on the other side, he drew rein and dismounted. Bent low, he climbed to the top. Just below the crest, he flattened so he wouldn’t be silhouetted against the bright sky. He crawled until he could see over.

There were four of them, plus a packhorse. Warriors armed with bows and lances, riding in single file, smack on his back trail.

Nate tucked the Hawken’s stock to his shoulder. He put his thumb to the hammer and fixed a bead on the first warrior. The man’s hair hung long and loose and hid part of his face.

As they neared the hillock, Nate saw that they were Crows. Usually, the Crows were friendly. He waited until they were right below him, then stood with the Hawken leveled. In their tongue he said, “Ka-hay. Sho’o daa’ chi.”

The first warrior drew rein and glanced up. “Grizzly Killer!” he exclaimed in English.

“Chases Rabbits,” Nate said in some surprise. It had been more than a year since he last saw the young warrior, and Chases Rabbits had done a lot of growing.

Slapping his legs against his pinto, Chases Rabbits trotted up the slope. He vaulted down, clasped Nate’s arms, and cheerfully declared, “Me great happy at see you again.”

“I’m glad to see you, too,” Nate said, although the news he had to impart might break the younger man’s heart.

“How be Evelyn?”

“She’s fine,” Nate said. He hesitated, then decided to get it over with. “She has a beau now.”

“She have ribbon in hair?” Chases Rabbit said. “It pretty one?”

“Not that kind of bow. She’s seeing someone.”

“Evelyn have good eyes,” Chases Rabbits declared. “She see like hawk.”

Nate reminded himself that he must speak simply and plainly. “Let me put it another way. My daughter is being courted.”

“Eh? She tied up? Why you do that?”

“What?” Nate laughed. “No, not cord. Not rope. She is being courted as in she is smitten with a young man and he is smitten with her.”

Chases Rabbits appeared even more puzzled. He wriggled his fingers and said, “She wear fur on hands in summer?”

Now it was Nate who was confused. He held out his own hands, and it hit him. “No. Not mittens. Smitten. It means she’s in love.”

“Me too!”

Nate had expected the young Crow to be greatly upset. A while back Chases Rabbits had wooed Evelyn. Nothing had ever come of it, though. Evelyn liked him as a friend and nothing more.

“You’re not still in love with her?”

“Her who?”

“My daughter,” Nate said in mild exasperation. “Who have we been talking about?”

“Oh. No. Me in love with Raven On The Ground.” Chases Rabbits beamed. “She beautiful. She nice. She sweet. She all goodness.”

“Well now,” Nate said, pleasantly surprised.

“Well what?”

Nate sighed. He had almost forgotten how Chases Rabbits used to make him want to pull out his hair. “I’m glad that you have someone of your own.”

“She not mine yet. First me must show me brave warrior.” Chases Rabbits gave a start as if an idea had occurred to him. “You help me, Grizzly Killer? You my good friend.”

“Help you how?”

“Help me kill heap plenty Blackfeet.”