Yellowstone Run

CHAPTER NINE

Blade dove to the right, unslinging the Commando as he did, releasing the T-shirt and vest, forgetting all about his shoulder. He landed on his elbows and knees and scanned the terrain ahead, seeking the sniper.

Hickok had already flattened. He twisted and pointed up at the top of the hill.

Training the Commando on the crown. Blade debated whether to charge up the slope. Whoever had fired that shot could easily have killed him. So the shot must have been meant as a warning. But who’d fired it?

And why?

“You down there!” a man’s voice called out. “You’re not welcome here! Leave at once or the next time I won’t miss!”

Hickok made a gesture, signifying he was ready to circle around the hill and sneak up on the man from the rear.

Blade shook his head. “Who are you? Why did you shoot? We mean you no harm.”

“My name is unimportant,” the man replied. “All you need know is that I’m a Flathead and I make my living by hunting and trapping, which means I can hit what I aim at. Now leave!”

The Warrior rose to his knees. “If you’re a Flathead, then you must know who I am,” he yelled.

“I’ve never laid eyes on you before, white man.”

“Have you heard of Blade?”

“The Warrior and the man who leads the Force? Are you claiming to be him?”

Blade rose to his full height. “I am.”

“How do I know you speak the truth? Whites are notorious liars.”

“If you’ve heard of me, then you probably know my description. Take a good look.”

Silence descended.

Blade waited patiently for the Flathead to make the next move. He looked back at Achilles and Geronimo, both of whom were watching the hill anxiously. When he faced forward again, a man stood in plain view at the top of the hill.

“Your appearance matches the description I have heard of the Warrior named Blade, but how do I know you’re truly him? How can I trust you?”

The giant smiled. “I’m not in the habit of lying to an ally of the Family. And Star would be quite upset if I blew away one of her people.”

“Did Star send you?” the man asked, taking several strides down the slope. He wore buckskins and carried a Winchester.

“Yes,” Blade revealed. “She flew to the Home and requested our assistance. We’re searching for the creatures responsible for abducting the wife and sons of a tribesman of yours called Eagle Feather.”

The Flathead suddenly broke into a run and sprinted down the hill at a reckless speed. He hardly glanced at Hickok when he passed the gunman, and drew to an abrupt halt a few yards from the giant. “I’m Eagle Feather!” he declared breathlessly.

Blade studied the Flathead, liking what he saw. The man’s rugged features and frank brown eyes conveyed an impression of innate honesty and strength, tempered by the transparent anxiety he unconsciously radiated. “I thought you had returned to Flathead territory,” Blade mentioned. He scooped up the vest and T-shirt.

“I did. I went to Gardiner and reported what had happened, and a messenger was immediately dispatched to inform Star. Then I returned to Yellowstone to hunt for my family,” Eagle Feather related, sorrow deepening the lines in his face. “I haven’t had any luck.”

“Have you located the creatures?”

“No,” Eagle Feather said. He glanced around as the giant’s companions converged on him. “I apologize for firing at you. I assumed you were part of a scavenger party I’ve seen roaming this area.”

“We’ve seen them too,” Blade related, and gestured at his friends as he introduced them. “This is Hickok, Geronimo, and Achilles. They’re also from the Home.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Eagle Feather told them. “Thank you for coming to help. If you only knew how much my wife and sons mean to me…” he said, and stopped, choking on the words.

Geronimo stepped forward and placed his hand on the Flathead’s shoulder. “We won’t rest until we’ve found them.”

“Thank you.” Eagle Feather said softly, then cleared his throat. “To which tribe do you belong?”

“I’m a Warrior. I live at the Home,” Geronimo divulged. “My ancestors were Blackfeet.”

Eagle Feather motioned toward the hill. “Please, join me. I’ve made camp at the top. A few hours ago I shot a buck, and I was in the process of butchering it when I heard shots and spotted you.”

“I could go for some venison,” Hickok said. “You’re on. Eagle Tail.”

“That’s Eagle Feather.”

“Whatever,” Hickok said, and headed for the slope.

“Pay no attention to him,” Geronimo advised the Flathead. “He suffered an unfortunate accident as a baby.”

“He did?”

“Yes. Actually, he’s a medical marvel. He’s one of the few people ever born without a brain.”

“I heard that!” Hickok stated.

Eagle Feather glanced quizzically at Blade. “Are they friends?”

“The best.” the giant confirmed. “They’re like brothers. Think of them as matching bookends. Frick and Frack.”

They walked westward, Achilles bringing up the rear.

“Are all four of you Warriors?” Eagle Feather inquired.

“Geronimo, Hickok, and I are,” Blade replied. “Achilles will be soon, I hope.”

“I’ve heard many stories about the Warriors. My tribe would still be languishing in bondage if you Warriors had not defeated Samuel the Second.”

“We had a little help,” Blade said.

“Speaking of help, why didn’t other Flatheads return here with you?”

Geronimo questioned. “Why did you come back alone?”

“They sent the word out to every man living within forty miles of Gardiner,” Eagle Feather answered. “I was too impatient, too filled with worry, to wait for them to organize their rescue mission. So I left directions and came on ahead. I expect them to show up any day now.”

“And there will be a military unit dispatched by the Civilized Zone arriving in a few days,” Blade disclosed.

“Between all of us, we’ll find your wife and sons,” Geronimo added.

“I pray we will,” Eagle Feather said. “Every day that goes by increases the odds they won’t be found alive.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Geronimo said. “Have faith.”

“I have faith in the Spirit-in-All-Things, but the Spirit doesn’t guide the footsteps of the Bear People. The Spirit can’t gain entry to a closed mind.”

“Haven’t you seen any sign of the creatures?” Blade probed.

“A few tracks, and that’s all. Whatever they are, they seem to move across the countryside like ghosts.”

“They’re flesh and blood, which means they can bleed.”

Geronimo said. “Once we catch up with them, we’ll do the world a favor and eliminate them.”

“It won’t be easy,” Eagle Feather stated. “Some of my people believe the Bear People are demons.”

“Nonsense. They’re mutations, plain and simple,” Geronimo countered.

“I know. But the knowledge doesn’t make my heart any lighter.”

They ascended the slope in single file.

Blade felt enormous sympathy for the Flathead. He could readily imagine the emotional turmoil Eagle Feather must be going through. If the same thing had happened to Jenny and Gabe, he’d be frantic, out of his mind with apprehension. He resolved to do everything humanly possible to rescue Eagle Feather’s wife and sons.

“Tonight the Bear People will be abroad,” the Flathead mentioned.

Blade glanced over his left shoulder. “How do you know?”

“There will be a full moon.”

“I don’t get the connection.”

“Didn’t Star tell you? Several of our communities were attacked by these fiends.”

“She told us.”

“Did she inform you that it’s believed two of the attacks took place on nights when the moon was full?”

“No, she neglected to tell us that news,” Blade said. “So did Iron Wolf.”

“Iron Wolf? I know him. Did he visit your Home?”

Blade nodded grimly. “He came with us to Yellowstone.”

“Then where is—?” Eagle Feather began, and frowned. “What happened?”

“He was gored by a buffalo.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. He was highly respected,” Eagle Feather remarked. “Perhaps, since the moon wasn’t a factor in other attacks, Star and Iron Wolf didn’t regard the moon as part of a pattern.”

“And you do?”

The Flathead shrugged. “When a man is desperate, he’ll grasp at any straw.”

Blade said nothing. He finished climbing to the top, where Hickok stood waiting, and surveyed their surroundings. A mule deer carcass had been deposited in the center of the level summit, and a stack of limbs to be used as firewood lay nearby. Visibility extended for miles in every direction. He could see the meandering course of the Lamar River to the northwest and the Absaroka Range to the east. “This is perfect,” he commented.

“That’s what I thought,” Eagle Feather said.

Blade gazed to the southeast. He could distinguish vague figures moving about on the plain across the river. Harmon and his band were still working on the slain buffalo. He reasoned that the band would probably camp there for the night.

“Are they the scavengers?” Eagle Feather queried.

“Yep.” Blade placed his vest and the T-shirt on the ground.

“I watched them go after the buffalo, and then the dust became so thick I couldn’t tell what was happening.”

“Do they know you’re in this vicinity?”

“No. I’ve avoided them like the plague. I figured they’d kill me if they knew I was here.”

“Wise decision.”

“We should’ve blown those turkeys away when we had the chance,” Hickok spoke up.

“We still may get the chance, “Geronimo observed, and looked at the buck. “Why don’t you and I start on that deer?”

“Fine by me,” the gunman said.

“Be my guest,” Eagle Feather stated, and drew his hunting knife. “Here. Use this.”

“Thanks,” Geronimo responded, and took hold of the hilt. “We’ll have supper in no time.”

“What can I do?” Achilles asked eagerly.

“Get a fire going,” Blade ordered.

“Won’t those scavengers see the smoke?”

“If they come to investigate, we’ll sic Hickok on them,” Blade proposed.

“I hope they do,” the gunman said. “I’m rarin’ for some real action.”

Geronimo looked at him. “Real action? What do you call the buffalo stampede and the grizzly?”

“Appetizers.”

Eagle Feather stared intently at Hickok. “Forgive me if I’m out of line, but I couldn’t help but notice that you seem to like to kill.”

“Killin’ is part of the job. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less.”

“Do you view being a Warrior as a mere job?”

“What would you call it?” Hickok rejoined, and continued before the Flathead could speak. “Being a Warrior is no different or better than being a Tiller or a Weaver. Oh, we have a little more responsibility because we’re safeguarding lives, not crops, but when you get down to the nitty-gritty.

Warriors kill for a livin’. We spend hours and hours practicing with our weapons just so we can wipe out the bad guys when the time comes to slap leather. We’re trained killers.” He glanced at Achilles. “If you start glorifying this job, you’ll lose your perspective.”

“My initial impression of you was clearly wrong,” Eagle Feather said respectfully. “You might well be a killer, but you also possess much wisdom. The Family must regard you very highly, as my own people revere anyone who is a deep thinker and a seeker of truth.”

For a few seconds Hickok appeared to be trying to catch flies in his mouth. He straightened, blinked, and glanced imperiously at Geronimo.

“Deep thinker, huh?”

Geronimo closed his eyes and bowed his head. “I’m doomed. I’ll never hear the end of this.”

“Did I say something wrong?” Eagle Feather asked.

Hickok chuckled. “Nope. As a matter of fact, I can see now why the Flatheads control Montana and the Blackfeet don’t.”

“But the Blackfeet left Montana,” Eagle Feather noted.

“That’s just their excuse,” Hickok stated. He walked toward the buck, casting a haughty gaze at Geronimo. “Coming, mental midget?”

Geronimo looked at the Flathead. “Thanks heaps. What did I ever do to you?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I might as well find the nearest cliff and jump off,” Geronimo muttered, turning away. “He’ll be unbearable for at least six months.”

“Let’s go, peasant,” Hickok called out.

“Make that a year,” Geronimo amended, moving away as if stepping to the guillotine.

Eagle Feather faced the giant. “What did I do?”

“Nothing much, except give Hickok enough ammunition to last him a long time,” Blade responded.

Perplexed, Eagle Feather glanced at the man in the red cloak. “Do you understand what is going on?”

Achilles sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Would you explain it to me?”

“Were you ever five years old?”

“Of course. Everyone was.”

Achilles pointed at Hickok and Geronimo. “So are they.”

“Oh.”

Smiling, Achilles pivoted and went to stretch, staring toward the river.

He checked his movement and grasped the Bullpup in both hands.

“Company is coming!” he announced.

Rapidly nearing the hill at a gallop was a white horse bearing a rider, a raven-tressed woman who unexpectedly shouted at the top of her lungs, “Help me! Or they’ll kill me!”

Accenting her plea, four men appeared several hundred yards away, riding hard to overtake her.