Venom

Chapter Sixteen

Evelyn King pulsed with fear. She tried to stand, but her left leg was pinned. The horse lay unmoving and silent save for the rasp of its labored breathing. “Please, no,” Evelyn said. She pushed against the sorrel. She pushed harder. She might as well push a mountain.

The rattler kept coming. It was crawling straight for her, its tongue constantly flicking.

Evelyn stabbed her hand for her other flintlock. Terror seized her as she realized it was gone. She glanced about her, but it was nowhere to be seen. Maybe it was under the horse, she thought. She groped for her knife in its sheath on her left hip, but she couldn’t pull the blade free. It was wedged tight by her weight and she couldn’t rise high enough to work it free. She gave a last frantic tug, and the snake reached her.

Evelyn turned to stone. She expected it to coil and bite. Instead, it crawled up onto her shoulder. She shuddered at the contact and immediately willed herself to stop in case it provoked the snake into striking. The rattler went crawling on past as if she were a rock or a log.

“God,” Evelyn breathed, and grinned. She had been lucky, awful lucky. She pushed at the saddle and at the sorrel with the same result as before. Tiring, she sank onto her back and stared at the sky. She needed help. She couldn’t extricate herself alone. Rising onto her elbows, she went to shout—and new fear gushed through her like spears of ice.

More snakes were emerging from the pool and making for the woods. Six, seven, eight of them, six rattlers and a bull snake and another that might be a ribbon snake. They crawled with purpose, their heads slightly raised, forked tongues darting.

Evelyn choked off a cry as the foremost viper crawled over the sorrel’s neck and onto her chest. It was so close to her face, she could have stuck out her own tongue and licked it. Rigid with fright, she didn’t breathe. She saw the vertical slits in its eyes, she saw every scale. The feel of it brushing across her body was almost more than she could bear. No sooner was it off her when another smaller rattler took its place. This one, too, went over her without a sideways look. A third rattler slithered over the sorrel and onto her. It was thicker than the others, the skin pattern not the same. The head came even with her chin—and the rattler stopped and swung its head toward her.

Evelyn resisted an impulse to scream and throw it off. She started to swallow and caught herself. The snake’s tongue was an inch from her throat. She prayed it would keep going but it just lay there, staring. Its mouth opened and she braced for the pain of its fangs, but all it did was hiss and continue on. She closed her eyes tight and fought back tears. When she opened them, the snake was off her.

Evelyn didn’t know how much of this she could stand. The other snakes had gone wide of her, but there were bound to be more. She pushed at the sorrel with all the strength in her, but it wasn’t enough. Exhausted, she sank onto her back and closed her eyes again. She couldn’t imagine where all the snakes had come from. She didn’t really care. She wanted away from there, to be with Dega, to have him hold her in his arms. She liked being in his arms more than she had ever liked anything. It felt so good, so comforting. She wondered if she would ever see him again. The thought of not seeing him brought an ache to her chest, a hurt so powerful it was as if her heart were being crushed.

Something was on her arm.

Evelyn opened her eyes and wished she hadn’t. A veritable legion of snakes were streaming out of the pool and nearby puddles and moving in a body toward the drier sanctuary of the forest floor, so many of them that in places they formed a living carpet of moving scales. She barely had time to brace herself when four of them crawled onto her, moving across her chest, the nearest brushing her chin as it went by.

Tears filled Evelyn’s eyes, but she refused to cry. Not with more snakes wriggling onto her. She couldn’t look. Again she shut her eyes and felt a serpentine form glide over her neck. Another went over the top of her head. All it would take was for her to sneeze and she was as good as bitten.

Evelyn thought of her father and mother. In the past she had always counted on them to get her out of tight scrapes. Not this time. They were too far away. Even if they heard the shot, they might figure it was someone shooting game and not realize she was in trouble.

“I want to live,” Evelyn said softly, and meant every syllable. She nearly gave a start when a snake brushed her throat.

A rattler crawled onto her face.

It was the hardest thing Evelyn ever had to do; to lie there and not twitch a muscle as the rattler slithered across her mouth and cheek and forehead. The scrape of every scale was magnified tenfold. She was scared down to her marrow but dared not react.

Suddenly the snake was off her, but it was only a temporary reprieve. More were crawling toward her. A lot more.

God, Evelyn thought. She couldn’t take much more of this. It would drive her insane.

Chickory Worth’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. They weren’t just any old snakes crawling around his feet. They were rattlesnakes. Chickory yelped and kicked and jumped backward. A couple of bounds and he would be inside. But as he sprang a sharp pain shot up his leg and when he landed he felt another snake under him and looked down just as it sank its fangs into his right foot. Chickory screeched, as much in terror as from the hurt, and threw himself at the doorway. He stumbled through, slammed the door behind him, and sprawled onto his hands and knees.

“What in the world?” Emala exclaimed, sitting up.

“Snakes!” Chickory gasped. “Rattlers! I’ve been bitten!” He sat and extended his legs.

Emala was speechless with shock for a few moments. Letting out a shriek of dismay, she smacked Samuel’s shoulder, bawling, “Get up! Get up! Our boy’s done been snakebit!” Despite her bulk she was the first to reach Chickory and kneel beside him. “Where?” she bleated. “Where were you bit?”

Chickory pointed. The bite marks were plain to see; two red dots on his right foot and two more on his left calf. “Twice,” he said. “They’re all over out there.”

Randa ran to the door. Opening it, she looked out and exclaimed, “Oh my God! He’s right! They’re everywhere.”

“Close the door,” Samuel commanded. He squatted beside his wife, leaned over his son, and drew his knife.

“What are you fixin’ to do?” Emala asked in wide-eyed horror.

“Suck the poison out like they do with cottonmouths.” Samuel cut an X above the bite marks on Chickory’s calf and pressed his mouth to the incision. Blood welled, and he sucked a mouthful and spat it out.

“What if you get poison in you?” Emala asked. “I’ve heard tell of that happenin’.”

“Has to be done,” Samuel said, and sucked another mouthful.

Emala clasped her hands to her bosom and raised her eyes to the roof. “Hear me, Lord. Spare my son. I pray you’ll spare my husband, too. Save them from that awful venom. Don’t take them away from me now, when we are startin’ our new home.”

“Hush, will you?” Samuel said, and sucked a third mouthful.

Appalled by his lack of courtesy, Emala said, “Don’t be interrupin’ me when I’m talkin’ to the Lord. Do you want him mad at us?”

Randa came over and placed her hand on her brother’s arm. “How do you feel?”

“How do you think I feel?” Chickory retorted. “I’ve just been bit by two rattlers. I’m dyin’.”

Louisa King stayed calm. Turning her head, she called out, “Zach, I need you.”

Zach put down the book and walked to the doorway. He thought maybe she wanted to go riding and needed him to saddle her horse. She could do it herself except he insisted on doing it for her. He was smiling to show he wasn’t bothered by their little tiff. “What do you—” he began, and stopped, his breath catching in his throat at the sight he beheld: snakes, snakes and more snakes. From what he could see, most were rattlers. Several were near Lou’s feet. Instantly he drew his tomahawk and his Bowie.

“Don’t move. I’m coming for you.”

Lou didn’t argue. A large rattler was circling her as if it couldn’t decide whether she was something it should bite. She recalled that not all bites were fatal, but even so, all that venom in her body wouldn’t be good for the baby in her womb. “God, no,” she said.

Zach counted six snakes near enough to her that they might strike if she moved. Clearing the threshold in a bound, he was among them. He arced the tomahawk at a thick neck. He sheared the Bowie at another. Spinning, he cleaved a viper just as it was coiling, slashed a fourth as the snake turned toward him. The largest and the nearest to her raised its ugly head and he severed the head from the body with a sideways swipe. The last turned to flee and he chopped it into three pieces with three swift cuts. Then he had Lou in his arms and was flying into the cabin and kicking the door shut behind them.

Lou clung to him. She had been terrified that he would be bitten. He was quick, so very, very quick, but there had been so many rattlers, she’d worried that even his speed might not have been enough. “Thank you,” she breathed into his neck.

“I have some uses,” Zach said.

“Never said you didn’t.” Lou kissed him. “You can put me down. I’m all right.”

Zach placed her in a chair and went to the window. “There must be hundreds. Thousands, even.”

Lou was thinking of something else. “Do you remember we heard a horse go by a while ago?”

Zach nodded.

“And then there was that shot. Do you think…” Lou didn’t finish. The implication was obvious.

Zach turned. He mentally kicked himself for not going out and seeing who had ridden by; he had been lying in bed with Lou. “I doubt it was any of the Worths. They had no reason to be out and about so soon after the storm.”

“Your mother or your father?”

“Ma or Pa would have stopped.” Zach had a troubling thought. “Whoever it was, they were headed east toward Waku’s lodge.”

They looked at each other and both of them said at the same time, “Evelyn.”

Zach was still holding his tomahawk and Bowie. He went to the door and paused with a finger on the latch. “Stay inside, you hear me? I won’t brook an argument. If you won’t do it for me or you won’t do it for yourself, do it for the baby.”

Lou nodded. “Don’t worry.” She stood and came over. “I wish you didn’t have to.”

“She’s my sister.”

“You’re going without your rifle?” Lou nodded at the Hawken in the corner.

Zach hefted his edged weapons. “These are better. I can kill more, faster.” He worked the latch.

“Be careful, darn you,” Lou said anxiously, and kissed him hard on the mouth. “Our baby needs a pa.”

“I don’t aim to die.” Zach smiled and slipped out and shut the door behind him.

Lou leaned her forehead against it and closed her eyes in dread. The thing was, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t.

Nate jerked his Hawken to his shoulder and fired. The heavy ball hit smack in the center of the rattlesnake’s head and the head exploded. The path to the lake was momentarily clear. He reloaded as he rode. He goaded the bay into the water, reined parallel with the shore, and brought it to a gallop. Winona was right behind him.

Nate was astounded at the number of snakes he saw and relieved that they didn’t come near the lake. Rattlers could swim, but it was his understanding they only did so when pressed or after prey. Most of the time they fought shy of water. A lot of the snakes, he noticed, were crawling toward the forest to get out of the wet and the chill.

Moments like this, Nate almost regretted living in the wilderness. There was always something, always some new threat to deal with. He yearned for a spell of peace and quiet, a long spell where none of his family or his friends were in peril.

That was the crucial difference between the wilderness and civilization. People who lived in cities and towns and on farms back East could go their entire lives without anything to fear save old age. Oh, a wagon might roll over or a horse go down or they might come down with a disease, but for the most part their lives were peaceful.

The wilderness was anything but peaceful. It was a savage realm of fang and claw where the only true peace was the peace of the grave. Yet God help him, Nate loved it. Not the savagery, but the freedom that came from living without laws and rules. The only restraints were those he imposed on himself.

It was freedom in its purest sense, and more precious to him than the security of civilized society.

A long time ago, when the children were small, Nate had asked Winona if she would rather live east of the Mississippi where there were fewer dangers. She had stopped sewing and looked at him with that special look of hers and said that danger had always been part of her existence. She couldn’t let fear of it rule her. Life was for living, not hiding.

“Husband! Look!”

Nate came out of his reverie. They were on the north side of the lake. Ahead was his son’s cabin. Lou was at the window, waving her arms.

“We should stop!” Winona called.

Reluctantly, Nate slowed. He would only take a minute and be on his way. Whoever had fired that shot might need help. Any delay could prove fatal.