Venom

Chapter Fifteen

Emala Worth felt as snug as a bedbug in a blanket. Although she abhorred bed bugs, just like she did most every other bug. To her way of thinking bugs made no sense. They bit people and crawled on people and got into food. She couldn’t for the life of her understand how they fit into the Almighty’s scheme of things, but since he had made them, they must have a purpose.

Surprised at her near-blasphemous thought, Emala rolled onto her side to stare at the window.

The rain had finally stopped, the storm finally ended. For a while there, when the elements were fiercely battering their cabin, Emala had been half afraid it would buckle from the ferocity of the storm. But the walls and ceiling held, and with the door shut and a blanket over the window, not much rain got in. It had puddled some under the window, but that was all.

Everyone was resting. Samuel was on the blanket beside her. Randa was on another over by the wall and Chickory was stretched out near the door. Emala looked at each of her children and her heart was filled to overflowing with her love for them. They were everything to her.

Her new home counted for a lot, too. Emala loved the cabin. It was much more spacious than their shack on the plantation. A lot sturdier, too. She couldn’t wait for Samuel to build some furniture; a table and chairs for the family to sit and eat, and a rocking chair for her, and a bed. Three beds, actually, since Randa and Chickory were too old to sleep together.

A good wide bed for Samuel and her. She tingled at the prospect. Next to singing and eating, one of the things she liked most was nighttime. Nothing beat that wonderful feeling of being snuggled, warm and cozy.

Emala closed her eyes. She wanted to rest a bit more. But everyone would be there soon to eat and have fun and she had to get up and see that the dirt floor was smooth and tidy.

That was another thing. They needed a wood floor. She would speak to Samuel about it just as soon as he stopped snoring. She marveled that he had slept through the storm. That man could sleep through anything.

Over by the door, Chickory Worth was feeling restless. He’d wanted to stand at the window and watch the rain and the lightning, but his ma made him lie down and try to get some sleep like they were doing. He heard his mother moving, and then a sound pierced the stillness. He sat up. “Did you hear that?”

“The thunder far off?” Emala said.

“No. It was a shot.” Chickory stood. “I’m sure it was a shot.”

“Maybe Mr. King or Mr. McNair shot somethin’ to eat,” Emala said. “I hope it was one of them elks. I am growin’ powerful fond of elk meat.”

Chickory stepped to the window and moved the blanket. The sky was clearing, the gray giving way to blue. The air smelled fresh, and was on the chill side. He shivered slightly.

Water covered much of the ground up to several inches deep and appeared to be deeper off toward the gully. Chickory reckoned it would all soon drain away. As he stared, the water rippled as if moved by the wind but he couldn’t feel a breeze. “I want to go out and look around, Ma.”

“Whatever for? You’ll track mud into our new house.”

“I’ll wipe my feet before I come in.”

Emala sighed. The boy always had an answer. “You don’t go far, you hear? The Kings and everybody will be here soon and I want you inside when they come.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Chickory said. He went to the door and opened it and took several steps, the water rising around his bare feet and his ankles. Something rubbed over his toes and he looked down.

The water was filled with snakes.

Louisa lay in bed with her hands on her belly. Zach had insisted she rest before the social and gave her what she liked to call his manly stare. He always got this intense look about him whenever he wanted her to do something for her own good. If she objected, he would argue and today she didn’t want to argue.

The patter of the rain on their roof had ceased and the howl of the wind had faded. Silence reigned, save for the ticking of their clock on the mantle above the fireplace. She liked to listen to the soft, regular tick-tick-tick. It was so soothing it often put her to sleep.

Lou eased onto her back. Zach wasn’t beside her; he had been when she’d lain down. She swung her legs over the side and went out into the main room and there he was, at their table, his legs over it, reading. It startled her. Zach rarely read. He wasn’t like his pa. He’d never taken to books although he could read as well as anyone when he put his mind to it.

“There you are. What are you reading?”

“How are you feeling?” Zach asked without looking up.

“Fine. If I have a problem, I will tell you. What are you reading?”

“A book.” Zach turned a page.

“My, is that what they call those?” Lou said in mild exasperation. “Where did you get it and what is it about?”

“My pa gave it to me.” Zach held the front of it toward her, keeping his place with his finger. “He said we’d find it useful.”

Lou looked but there was no title on the cover. “I still don’t know what it’s about.”

Zach turned it so she could read the title page.

Lou expected it to be one of the James Fenimore Cooper books Nate liked so much but it was The American Almanac and Repository of Useful Knowledge. “My word. Why are you reading a thing like that?”

“There’s a part in here that has to do with babies. About how to be a good father and mother.”

Lou wanted to hug him. He could be such a trial; hardheaded, stubborn, temperamental. Then he’d go and do something sweet, like this. “What does it say?”

“It says here that a newborn should sleep next to the mother for the first eight weeks. It says that the baby sleeps better and puts on more weight than if it sleeps in a crib.” Zach looked at her. “I’ll rig a cot here in the living room for the other.”

“What other?” Lou asked, confused.

“Well, you won’t want to do it in bed with the baby right there, so we can sneak out when it’s sleeping and use the cot.”

“It?” Lou said, and then realized what he was referring to. “My God. The baby’s not even born yet. It won’t be born for pretty near eight months. And you’re thinking of that?”

“One of us has to plan ahead.”

Lou went from wanting to hug him to wanting to slug him. “Why you…you…” She couldn’t think of a word fitting enough. “…you male, you.”

Zach lowered his legs and sat up. “What are you getting so hot about? Here I am trying to make things easier for us. I offered to build a cot, didn’t I?”

“Easier for you,” Lou said. In a huff she marched to the front door. “I need some air.”

Zach didn’t help matters by sighing and saying, “Women sure are prickly when they’re pregnant.”

Lou balled her fists. If there was anything in this world more aggravating than men, she had yet to meet it. She flung the door wide. Here and there were scattered puddles, but for the most part the ground around their cabin was clear. It sat on a slight elevation, no more than a few inches above the rest of the shore, but that was enough. Rainwater invariably drained toward the lake.

Without paying much attention, Lou stalked out and went a few yards and stopped to take deep breaths.

Something hissed near her leg.

Lou glanced down and couldn’t credit her eyes.

Rattlesnakes were on all sides of her.

Winona King was wrapping a pie in a cloth to keep it warm. Her husband was fond of pies. Early in their marriage she had learned of his fondness and practiced until she could bake them exactly as he liked them. Her own people didn’t have anything like them, and she had to admit, they were delicious. She carefully placed the pie in the basket and was closing the lid when she snapped her head up and said, “A shot.”

Nate had heard it, too. He was at the table, honing his Bowie. He put the whetstone down and went out, leaving the door open for her to follow, as he knew she would.

“Which direction, do you think?” Winona asked. His ears were much better than hers.

Nate pointed to the northeast at a point along the shore. “Somewhere over yonder.”

“From Zach’s?”

“No. Farther along.” Nate rose onto the tips of his toes, but other than his son’s cabin the opposite shore was a vague line of rock and earth, and beyond, the green of the trees.

“Rifle or pistol?”

“Pistol.”

“Did Evelyn take her rifle?”

“She forgot again. I noticed too late, after she was gone.”

“But she had her pistols?”

“I know what you’re thinking.” Nate went inside, snatched his Hawken from where he had propped it, and came back out. “I’ll have a look.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No need,” Nate said. “I won’t be long. You can finish getting ready.”

“But if it’s Evelyn…”

“If she was in real trouble, we’d hear more shots or shouts or screams,” Nate said. His secret dread was that one day one of his family would be harmed. It didn’t help that had hardly a month went by that some danger or other didn’t rear its unwanted head.

Winona was torn between going and staying. She gazed across the lake, its surface serene now that the thunderhead had moved on. She looked to the northwest, at the Worths’ far-off cabin, and then to the north at her son’s, and at the stretch of shore that curled away from their own toward the others—and her breath caught in her throat. “Husband?”

Nate was almost to the corner. He stopped and turned. It took a few seconds for what he was seeing to sink in. Water covered much of the ground, inches of it, to within five or six yards of their front door. At first it appeared as if the water was moving, but it wasn’t the water, it was something in the water. He took a few steps and the shapes acquired form. “It can’t be,” he blurted.

“You see them, then?”

Nate nodded. Snakes. Rattlesnakes. Hundreds of the things, swimming, crawling, moving aimlessly about as if they had no sense of where they should go. “God in heaven.”

Winona was aghast. She had never seen so many at one time. The whole shore was covered. Washed from somewhere by the rain, she suspected. “You were right about the hunt,” she said. “There must have been a den close by. If only we had found it.”

Small consolation for Nate. He was thinking of the shot they heard. One shot, and nothing else. “Stay here. Close the door and keep it closed.” He ran around the cabin to the corral. A large rattler was coiled almost at his feet. Drawing his Bowie, he hefted it, cocked his arm, and threw. The razor tip sliced into the serpent’s blunt head between its alien eyes and cleaved the skull nearly in half. The body whipped wildly back and forth.

Winona came running up. She had gone in for her own rifle and rushed back out. Bending, she yanked the Bowie loose and held the hilt toward him. “We must get to her right away.”

“Me,” Nate said. “Not we.”

“She is my daughter, too.” Winona turned to the gate.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Give me one good reason.”

Nate recited several. “It’s dangerous enough for one person. We can’t afford to lose two horses. And if McNair or Waku and his family show up, someone should be here to warn them about the snakes.”

“I am going,” Winona insisted.

“I can’t watch out for you and me, both.”

“Who asked you to? I can take care of myself, as you well know.”

“What about Shakespeare and the Nansusequas?”

“They are not stupid. They will see the snakes and avoid them just as we will.”

Nate knew better, but he asked, “There’s nothing I can say or do, is there, to change your mind?”

“Not a thing. Nothing will keep me from my daughter. Not the Great Mystery. Not the snakes. Not you, husband, as much as I love you.” Winona gestured. “We are wasting precious time. Our daughter might need us.”

“Saddles?” Nate said.

“More wasted time. We can ride bareback.”

Nate slid bridles on his bay and her mare. He led the pair out and climbed on the bay. Winona swung onto her mare and together they went around the cabin and promptly drew rein.

“How will we get past all those snakes?” Winona wondered.

Nate had been thinking about that. The rattlers were virtually everywhere except for a narrow strip along the lake—and in the lake itself. “Stay behind me.” He reined toward the water and rode at a slow walk. Between the cabin and the lake the snakes weren’t as thick, but there were enough to make him nervous. The thud of the bay’s heavy hooves sent most of them gliding away. A few hissed but didn’t stand their ground.

“Look out!” Winona cried.

One of the snakes had coiled and raised its head to strike.