They were deep in the woods, following the tracks of the women that ran parallel to the more heavily traveled course about twenty feet away. The travois that carried Ezra made group movement slow, especially in the cluttered woods, and often the group was forced to wait as the poles were lifted over one obstacle or another.
“Ezra, we're putting your ass on a horse. The travois is seriously holding us back, and you'll either ride or die. Lum, I want you and Lucian to tie Ezra to his horse, but keep one hand free so he can carry a jar of the alcohol. Ezra, you can drink and stay drunk as a skunk, as long as you're quiet. Start making noise and we'll gag you. Understand?”
“You're about uncaring sonofa —”
“I asked if you understood? It's a yes or no question. Answer me or we'll gag you now.”
“Yes, I understand.” Ezra replied but thought,
I'll kill your ass once I'm strong again and this is behind us.
The sun was out and it would have been a great day to ride, if they weren't following a woman as dangerous as a grizzly bear with a toothache. A gentle and warm breeze blew from the west, and most of the remaining men were glad to be out of the rain. As they moved, Azra was sitting crooked in his saddle, but he'd said not a word once secured in place. Off and on he took a swig of his drink.
For hours they tracked the women and then Nimrod, who was riding point, stopped.
Byron rode to the point man and asked, “What's the problem?”
“Something doesn't feel right.”
“What in the hell is that suppose to mean?”
“I get a feeling when something is wrong or I'm being watched. I have that feeling now.”
“Well, dismount and lead your horse a few hundred feet and see if the feeling disappears. There may be another trap, but at ground level you'll see any cord or vines stretched across the trail. The trap will be made for a man on horseback, right?”
“Make sense to me, but I don't like it.”
“Move, and do it now,” Byron said and then pulled his pistol, “or I'll shoot your ass where you stand. We're moving way to slowly to satisfy me.”
Nimrod moved forward slowly, scanning the ground in front of him for anything that looked unnatural, but saw nothing.
“See, all your worry was pure foolishness and you have —”
Nimrods right foot suddenly disappeared into the ground, he fell on his ass, and then gave a loud piercing scream. He kept jerking the right side of his body.
His screams continued as Byron carefully stepped in his footprints and made his way to the man. Once standing over him, he saw the man's foot was in a hole and impaled by a sharp stake driven into the ground. A mat made of woven reeds was pushed under Nimrods foot. He counted over fifteen barbed stakes before he quit counting and called out, “Ora, bring Seth, and the two of you come to me. Bring the whiskey, too.”
Once the men were beside the hole, Ora said, “Oldest trap in the book. Dig a hole, fill it with barbed stakes, cover it with a mat and sprinkle dirt on top of it.”
Angry, Byron said, “I
know
all of that, but how in the hell do we get his foot out?” Nimrod was still screaming, and blood covered his foot.
“These stakes might be buried a foot or more, so we're going to have pull his foot from the barb. He's going to lose his mind when we do it too, but it's the only way I know to do the job. Seth, you take his left side and I'll take his right. On the count of three, we pull 'em up and out.”
They both moved into position and Ora said, “One, two, three!”
At the number three, they both pulled Nimrod straight up, and the pain was so bad he passed out. They placed his limp body on the ground and then cut his boot off. Each tribe had a cobbler, but shoe and boot quality depended on the skills of the individual shoemaker. In this case, the boot was poorly made. When Ora removed the boot, blood poured from it as he sat it aside. Looking at the foot, he said, “Right through the center of his foot, so he'll have problems with this the rest of his life, but that won't be very long anyway.”
“Why's that? It's just a wound to his foot.” Byron asked.
Hell, he'll be up and around within a month.
“Look at the barbs in the trap. See the dried brown stains on the top half of each barb?”
“Sure, but so what?”
“It's dried human shit, Bryon, and Nimrod's injury will soon become infected. We have nothing to fight the contagion, so he'll die.”
“Good God.”
“My opinion is you cut his throat while he's unconscious and end it now. If not, it'll take him weeks to die and the pain will be horrible. Only, in the end, he
will
die.” Ora said as he gazed into Byron's eyes.
Byron pulled his knife and with a quick slash of the sharp blade, Nimrod began to die as blood spurted from his severed throat.
“Help me pull him into the brush, and we'll tell everyone he was killed instantly.”
Once he was in the brush, a cherry-red blood trail led right to the dead man. Wiping his bloody hands on his trousers, Byron said, “Let's move again and Seth, you take point.”
“Me?”
“Yep, from now on all of us, including me will rotate on and off point. Pull the job for an hour, then I'll send your replacement.”
“I'll do it, but I don't like it at all.”
“Who gives a shit what you like or don't like? Move, but watch your ass.” Byron said, and then laughed.
“PEOPLE OF THE EAGLE
, we have an illness that will soon sicken many of us, and it is possible that four out of ten of us will die. We have no prevention against this disease and while we can treat it, we cannot cure it. The warriors of the Black Mountain People brought this sickness to us, and all we can do is prepare.”
“How can we prepare?” a voice from the very back asked.
“We need much meat, honey, salt and water.”
“I know where there are some honey trees, so I will take women with me and gather all I can.”, a woman Mongoose knew as Ruth said from near the front.
“Amon will make teams to hunt cattle, so we may drink broth during our illness. Thomas will lead a group of men to the salt lick and bring salt back for us.”
“How much time do we have, and what is this disease we have?” Tork asked from the side of the group.
“By the end of two weeks many will be ill. The illness is small pox.”
A few loud gasps of fear were heard, and then someone asked the about the symptoms and the illness.
“Our shaman will now explain the illness. After he has done so, we must quickly gather what we need, because once sick, we'll not be able to do much.”
Eldon, Chief of Dog Soldiers walked to Mongoose and said, “We have two women from our attacked village with us near your lodge. They have both been informed of the dangers of small pox, but as members of The People, they wanted to join us. One claims she will not get the illness, for one reason or the other, but the other does not know. They'd been kept by the Wolf People for sex slaves. They killed a shaman of the Wolf Clan to escape, and there are men following them.”
“Lead me to them, and then have a dozen warriors send the Wolf warriors to the other side. Not one must escape, because we, especially now, must keep our location a secret.” Then moving to Amon, she whispered, “I have urgent business, so when the shaman is finished, start the people to work preparing for the sickness. We have many people, but little time.”
Amon nodded.
Standing near the lodge of Mongoose were the Dog Soldiers and both women. Theo looked relieved, but Ada was expressionless, like most warriors.
When he neared, Eldon said, “John, gather a dozen Dog Soldiers and kill the Wolf warriors. Not one must be allowed to escape. Any questions?”
“Can we try the new crossbow?”
“Yes, but only take two of them. If you are killed, we'd lose all we have. Now go; they must die today.”
“It will be done as you have requested.”
Mongoose said, “I want both of you women and Eldon of the Dog Soldiers to come with me to my lodge; we must speak.” She then walked to her lodge and held the entrance open until all entered. Entering last, she added, “Please be seated around my small fire.”
Eldon said, “The thin one is Theodosia, but goes by the name of Theo. The other is a warrior and is called Ada. She is the one who killed the Wolf shaman so they could escape.”
Mongoose nodded to each and then asked, “Are you not scared the disease will kill you?”
Ada spoke first, “I was exposed to the sickness once, became very ill with a fever, but did not get the red dots or scars from my exposure. I was told I could not get sick from it again.”
“And you?” Mongoose asked Theo.
“I am of the Eagle People, and if God decides I must die while helping the sick ones, then I will die. I have no choice, because to remain alone would have meant my death too, but my main reason is I'm of this clan. If I die, I will die helping those I love and care for, and that adds meaning to my life. Honor is important.”
“Noble words spoken, but let's hope you can die with as much honor as you speak. The death is a hard one, or so I've been told by the Learned Ones.”
“I hope to help, is all.”
“Now, Eldon, brief me on what you have found during the last few days with these women.”
“John is leading a group back now to ambush the Wolf warriors and, as you know, he's one of the best I have. When we left them, they had just killed one of their own, who'd stepped in a trap. The trap was Ada's idea, and it worked well. By last count, there are but six or so of them uninjured. They keep one man tied to a horse, drunk, who took three of Ada's arrows to slow them down. Other than this, we saw no one moving on the plains or in the woods.”
“The Black Mountain People will soon be as weak as we are, so as a threat, they'll be nothing to worry about for a year or two. A lot depends on how many of each tribe die. Ada, you are to work with Eldon and his men as a Dog Soldier and Theo, you may help Julian, our shaman. Eldon will take you both to lodges where you will sleep. In the days to come, always remember you're Eagle People and we are strong. Now go, as I must meet with others.”
Amon was miles out on the plains searching for a herd of cattle. He'd found plenty of cow patties and tracks, but hungry people could eat neither. It was early morning, with light clouds off to the west, and no wind. Ralph, who'd been riding point, suddenly turned his horse and then rode hard for the main group.
“Over the next hill is a large herd of cattle.” he said, once beside Amon.
“We will all dismount just before we reach the crest and walk our horses to the cattle. Just keep the horses between us and the cattle. Once within easy bow range, we will drop as many as we can, and when they start to run, we follow. Kill as many as you can, because lives will depend on the meat we bring back.”
He glanced at the fifteen warriors who rode with him, heard nothing, so said, “Let's go. If they stampede, get the hell out of their way, or we'll bury you where they grind your bones into the soil.”
They rode to near the crest, dismounted and in a long line, moved over the hill and into the valley below. Amon saw hundreds of the animals, but wasn't interested in counting them. What mattered most was how many they'd manage to kill. A few cows looked toward the horses, but then lowered their heads unconcerned and continued eating.
When close enough, Amon signed, “Make each shot count.” He then pulled his bowstring back and released an arrow. Cows began to drop, but the dying made noises, which spooked the herd and they began to move away at a fast trot.
“Mount!”
The hunters were soon mounted and riding hard on the outside edges of the cattle, shooting arrow after arrow into the big beasts. Finally, they turned quickly to the left to avoid a gully and Amon saw a rider go down, heard a scream that was cut short, and then dust covered the area.
“We have killed enough!” Amon yelled and then added, “Form on me.”
When the hunters neared he saw their youngest hunter, Victor, was missing.
He's the one I saw fall,
he thought, and then shook his head.
It's usually the young and old that die on battlefields or while hunting. Now, I will have to tell his mother. His father has gone before him.