The Dead Spend No Gold Read online

  “This land will be ours, if we hold to our purpose,” the man said.

  Perhaps if Kovac and I had left then, we could have considered ourselves innocent of wrongdoing. But Harris then said, “No one cares. We don’t talk about it, and we don’t leave any witnesses.”

  There was a threat in that statement, and we nodded and tried to smile as we went along with the troop. The next morning, we came across a small encampment of Indians, perhaps two families, mostly women and children. This time, the men dismounted, and, carrying knives and tree limbs for truncheons, they stealthily surrounded the camp and began their deadly work, silently, ruthlessly. There was barely an outcry before it was suppressed by throats cut and heads bashed in.

  Neither Kovac nor I contributed to the slaughter, but we were there, and we did nothing to stop it.

  We slipped away in the night, leaving many of our supplies behind. But the guilt and horror followed us, and we found we could not look other men in the eyes, so we struck out on our own. Perhaps what has happened to us is God’s retribution. With that, I cannot argue.

  You who find this journal, I beg you: it may sound strange, but please show mercy to Grendel and the child, for they are not evil. They are but a part of nature that we see only in the vagueness of myth. Consider, if you will, who are the real beasts: men, or these creatures who only want to be left alone.

  There are few of their kind left. They have been driven deep into the mountains, where even they have difficulty finding food and shelter.

  But they have souls, this I can see. They are not monsters.

  * * *

  As soon as the stranger left with her money, Virginia felt the bottom drop out of her belly. As the minutes passed and he failed to return with their supplies, she could think of nothing hopeful.

  I’ve just been swindled, she thought, like an innocent girl at her first country fair. Worse, the carny had taken her money without a fight.

  “Let us leave,” Feather said, after an hour passed. “He will not return.”

  “No,” Virginia said.

  “Forget the money,” Feather urged. “We can reach the village in only a day or two. As long as we have water, we will be fine; we might even find game along the way. Let us move on. We do not need the money.”

  Virginia didn’t care about the money, but she would not be taken advantage of. One thing she had learned during that terrible winter in the mountains was that “You stand up for yourself,” she said aloud, “or you will forever be the quarry. The evil creatures of this world can smell weakness. They are attracted to it. You can’t let them win.”

  She scrunched her hat down on her head and buttoned her coat. “How do I look?”

  Feather’s eyes widened in alarm. “Like a young girl in men’s clothing!”

  “Can’t be helped,” Virginia replied. “Wait here. I’m getting those supplies, one way or another.”

  Feather grabbed at her, but Virginia was already crossing the street. She marched up the steps to the saloon, staring straight ahead, ignoring the men lounging outside, whose eyes followed her progress. None of them spoke to her.

  The smoke in the bar stung her eyes, and the smell reminded her of misery, of a tiny cabin at Truckee Lake where her family had nearly died of starvation, shivering and filthy.

  A bar ran along one side of the long, narrow room, and it appeared to be constructed of a giant ponderosa planed to a flat surface, worn smooth by the arms of many men leaning on it. On the opposite wall was a huge fireplace, taking up half the expanse of the room. Most of the space between the bar and the fireplace was empty.

  A giant wagon wheel hung from the ceiling, and candles burned along its rim. Men and women cavorted in the middle of the room, dancing to the sound of a piano near the back of the saloon. The back third of the place was filled with tables and chairs where poker players lounged, eyeing each other and measuring the depth of their pockets against the cards held tight to their chests.

  Virginia suddenly felt very small and vulnerable. She felt like a rabbit who had wandered into a coyote den. But everyone was so engrossed with their own revelries that no one noticed her. Steeling herself, she moved to one side of the doorway and scanned the crowd.

  The burly man who had taken her money was in the middle of the loudest group, surrounding a roulette wheel. A collective groan went up, and Virginia saw the man’s shoulders slump. There were hoots and jeers, and someone shouted, “Try again, Pete! You’re bound to get lucky one of these times!”

  Virginia marched up behind the man called Pete. By then, some of the saloon patrons had noticed her, and the room was starting to go quiet. She tapped the man on the back and he turned around, looking guilty, as if he was expecting her.

  “If you aren’t going to buy me supplies,” she said, “I want my money back.”

  “What money?” Pete asked.

  “You promised to buy me two days’ supply of food,” Virginia said. “I want the food or the money, I don’t care which.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man answered. He said it with such sincerity, she almost could have believed him. “If I stole your money, why didn’t you raise the alarm? Why didn’t you call out?”

  “You didn’t steal the money,” Virginia began. She stopped, realizing she had made a mistake as the men watching started to murmur. She tried to recover. “You were supposed to buy food for me with it.”

  Pete smirked. “Why would I do that?”

  Another man pushed his way through the crowd to stand next to them. He was shorter than most men, but solidly built and very broad in the shoulders and chest. It wasn’t that he was fat, Virginia sensed, but that he was solid. He gave of a sense of menace, of…Virginia shook her head. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought there was something wrong with him. The whole town felt wrong, especially the men in this bar.

  “He’s got you there, Miss,” the burly man said. “Old Pete here isn’t known for doing favors.” The man had a big, friendly smile on his face. Virginia immediately distrusted him.

  “He is gambling with my money,” she said.

  The short man laughed. “Well, I think she’s got you there, Pete. If I remember rightly, earlier tonight, you were so broke you were begging. Seems to me I kicked you out a couple of hours ago for stealing drinks.”

  “She’s lying, Mr. Bidwell,” Pete said. “Hanson brought my share of the claim by. It’s my money, I swear.”

  Bidwell sighed. “Hanson ain’t anywhere around. Just give her the money back, Pete. We’ll let it slide.”

  “I can’t,” Pete said. “I just lost it at your damned crook…” He caught himself before he made the accusation. “…at your roulette wheel,” he finished meekly.

  Bidwell looked down at the saloon floor and shook his head sadly. He turned to Virginia with a regretful expression. “It would seem the money is no longer yours, Miss.”

  Virginia was uncertain what to do. Challenging a thief was one thing, but challenging the man who apparently owned this town was another. She sensed that she wasn’t going to get very far pressing her case. What was left? Retribution? Punishment?

  The sense of danger was growing with every second, a sense that came from the Canowiki part of her that she was just beginning to understand and listen to. It wasn’t worth it. She turned to go.

  “He ought to work off his debt,” called a voice from the crowd. A young man stepped forward. He wasn’t looking at Pete or Bidwell, but at Virginia.

  Her heart both lifted and fell simultaneously. This was someone she had never expected to see again: Jean Baptiste Trudeau, who had been the first boy to ever kiss her, only a little more than year before.

  No longer was he the handsome, dark-haired boy with olive skin she remembered. He was scarred, his hair was ragged and dull, and his eyes had a wounded look. But he still managed to give her a sad smile. He marched up to Pete, who towered over him. “You need to pay her back, Mister,” he said firmly.

  Pete s
eemed almost relieved by this turn of events. He’d been looking trapped; first by a girl he couldn’t seem to bully successfully, and then by the boss of the town, whom he didn’t dare stand up to. Now he eyed this younger, smaller man and puffed himself up. “You questioning my honesty, boy?”

  “I wouldn’t bother,” Jean replied acidly. “Everyone already knows what your honesty is worth.”

  The room went quiet at that. A space opened up around the two men, who squared off.

  Virginia stepped between them, facing the younger man. “You don’t have to do this, Jean. It won’t accomplish anything. He doesn’t have the money.”

  “I won’t let you down again,” he said, looking away.

  She fell silent for a moment, then said in a soft voice, “You never let me down, Jean. None of it was your fault.”

  “If you two are going to chat, then go over to bar and order a drink,” Bidwell said. “Fight or don’t fight; make up your mind, because until this fight is done, no one’s doing any drinking, and that’s costing me money.”

  “Please, Jean,” Virginia said. “Let it go.”

  He turned to her with a stubborn set to his jaw.

  There were footsteps behind her, and Virginia ducked out of the way. But Jean Baptiste saw the attack too late and went flying backward, landing on his back. The bigger man kept coming, kicking out and stomping down with his boots, but Jean managed to roll out of the way.

  He got to his feet and started weaving and bobbing to keep the blows from landing. He finally caught an opening and hit the bigger man square in the face.

  Pete only grunted and continued his advance until Jean was backed up against the bar. Bidwell pushed him away, into the middle of the floor, where Pete neatly caught the smaller man in a bear hug and started squeezing, lifting him into the air. Pinioned, Jean could move neither fists nor feet. He reared back with his head, smacking Pete in the face. Again, the big man only grunted, though blood started to pour out of his nose.

  Trapped, Jean Baptiste began to Turn. His arms started to elongate; his fingers started forming into claws. His face, which had been covered with stubble, suddenly looked as if it had a full beard. Virginia glanced around, alarmed, but no one else seemed to have noticed it…except one man. Behind the bar, Bidwell looked surprised, then frowned.

  “Don’t, Jean!” she yelled. “Not here!”

  He heard her and stopped, and a look of shame came over his face. He stopped struggling, but Pete didn’t stop squeezing. Jean’s head began to droop, and then, as he fell into unconsciousness, it lolled from side to side.

  “Stop, Pete!” Virginia shouted. “You’ve won. You’re killing him!”

  Pete showed no sign of having heard her. She came at him from the side, making calculations, somewhere among her frenzied thoughts, about where the man was off balance. She simultaneously pushed him while tripping him, her leg curled behind his knee. The big man fell backward. He let go of Jean with a cry, and the younger man crumpled to the floor.

  Pete landed flat on his back. As he lay there, dazed and trying to catch his breath, Virginia ran to Jean’s side. He was starting to come around. She lifted him to his feet. To the onlookers, it must have looked as if Jean had recovered and could stand. They didn’t see that she was lifting him, nor would they have expected the slim girl to be able to do that. But she caught the surprise on Bidwell’s face. She met his shrewdly calculating gaze.

  “What the…?” Pete said, from the floor. “What hell happened? Who tripped me?”

  The crowd was laughing, though they appeared equally confused. They’d seen the young girl dart forward and seem to touch the big man lightly just as he was falling backward.

  “No one, you big lunk,” someone shouted out. “You fell on your own.”

  “That’s impossible,” Pete muttered, sitting up.

  Virginia didn’t wait to hear more. She carried Jean out of the saloon, his feet making motions as if he was walking, though he was barely able to stand. Virginia knew that a woman her size shouldn’t be able to lift such a weight, but the urgency gave her unexpected strength. But even that wasn’t enough to explain it.

  This is the strength of a Canowiki, she thought.

  Even so, Virginia felt the dead weight wearing her down. She made it as far as the sidewalk and collapsed, Jean landing on top of her. She heard running steps and then Feather was there, helping her disentangle herself from Jean’s loose limbs.

  “What happened?” Feather asked.

  “I lost the money,” Virginia said. “I’m sorry.”

  Feather didn’t seem concerned. She was staring at the boy. “Who is he?”

  “An old friend,” Virginia said. “He was in the Donner Party.”

  Feather stepped back involuntarily, then blushed as she realized how that must have looked. “Did he…did he…?”

  “He’s a Skinwalker,” Virginia said.

  This time Feather took two steps back and looked ready to run away. “A Skinwalker? How…Why are you helping him?”

  “He was Turned,” Virginia explained. “But he never joined them. He helped me and my family survive. Afterwards, he just disappeared.”

  “You have to kill him,” Feather said, conviction lending steel to her voice.

  “No, Feather,” Virginia said. “I only survived because some of the newly Turned resisted hunting humans. Mr. Stanton, Jean Baptiste…and others. They retained their humanity…their souls.” Her mind shut down at the third name on her list of saviors, as it always did. She wanted to remember Bayliss as human, not wolf.

  “They may resist for a time,” Feather said. “But eventually they all give in to their new nature. He has Turned and hunted, of this I have no doubt. He might think he wants to help thee, but he will lapse someday, perhaps when thou least expecteth it.”

  “I can’t just leave him here,” Virginia said, looking down at the still-unconscious boy. He was breathing steadily, but his eyes were closed.

  “Either thou leavest him or I continue on my own,” Feather warned.

  “You wanted my help,” Virginia said.

  “I will not lead a Skinwalker to my tribe,” Feather replied.

  They stared at each other stubbornly, neither of them backing down.

  “Go,” a soft voice said.

  Virginia looked down. Jean’s eyes were open.

  “She’s right. I have hunted humans. I can’t always control myself. Go, Virginia.”

  “I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” Virginia said.

  “Perhaps not, but I can’t vouch for what I might do to your companion, or anyone in your company.” Virginia heard the defeated truth in his voice.

  “What about that man…Pete? Won’t he come after you?”

  “Fights happen all the time,” Jean Baptiste said. He sat up and groaned, his hands going to his chest. “Feels like he squeezed my ribs right into my heart.” He put one hand on the railing and pulled himself to his feet. “Don’t worry about me. No one holds a grudge around here. If I buy the man a drink, he’ll be my best friend. Next night, when I don’t buy him a drink, he’ll want to kill me again.”

  “He’s right,” a new voice agreed. They all turned toward the saloon’s double doors. Standing just outside, a bag in one hand, was the owner and namesake of the saloon. Virginia wondered how long he’d been listening.

  “I value a brave soul, Miss,” Bidwell said. “While I have no doubt Pete took your money, you have no proof, only your word against his.”

  “I heard it as well,” Feather said. “He promised us he would buy us supplies.”

  Bidwell glanced at her without changing expression, as if dismissing both her and her testimony. “As I said, Miss Reed, it’s only your word against his. While justice may not be done here tonight, I can at least help you in your journey. I’ve given you the night’s leftovers, which we usually feed to the dogs. Should be enough food there to get you where you need to go.”

  How does he know where we’re going? Virginia wond
ered. More importantly, how does he know my name?

  She took the sack. “Thank you,” she murmured. She didn’t like the man, but even so, she couldn’t be ungrateful. The bag smelled of roast beef, and she badly wanted to tear it open and eat it on the spot.

  “These are wild places, Miss,” Bidwell said, “and wild times. Dangerous for unaccompanied young women to be wandering around.”

  Beside her, Jean Baptiste stiffened, as if he was ready to fight again over the implied threat.

  “Yet…I somehow think you can take care of yourself, Miss Reed,” the bar owner continued. It seemed to her that his eyes glowed red for the space of a heartbeat.

  And then she knew.

  “You best move along, Miss,” Bidwell said, “before my patrons start heading back to their claims at dawn. You don’t want to be caught on the road.”

  Without another word, he went back into the saloon.

  “Let us depart,” Feather urged.

  Virginia turned to Jean Baptiste. She was shocked anew by his haggard appearance. It looked as if he’d aged a decade in the past year. He smiled at her sadly. “Go, Virginia. Your memory keeps me alive, but I’m not worthy of your company.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked. He had saved her life in those mountains, fighting his own kind. And she still remembered the carefree boy who had been so full of stories. They were two of a kind in those days, both of them exaggerating every little incident to feel important.

  Neither of us have need of embellishment now, Virginia thought. Our lives are so fantastic that we dare not tell people the full truth.

  “I’m sure that you’re safer without me,” he said with a smile, and for a moment he looked like the old Jean Baptiste. He stifled a laugh. “And I might be safer without you.”

  At that moment, three men came stumbling out of the saloon, laughing and hanging onto each other. They fell silent upon seeing Feather and Virginia. Their eyes lingered on the girls, as if hungry for the sight of a female. Then one of them tipped his hat and nudged the others. They straightened up and tipped their hats as well, and descended the steps with as much drunken dignity as they could muster. They were joshing with each other before they were out of view, and Virginia heard some crude commentary that alarmed her and made her blush.