The Dead Spend No Gold Page 24

  The Ts’emekwes screamed, no longer the majestic boom of a battle cry, but the tortured sound of a creature in pain. She rose to her feet, batting at the rainbow flames, but out of the air came more bottles of whiskey and other spirits, shattering against her, spewing out their contents, which flashed into even more flame.

  Frank backed away, feeling his own hair singe in the heat. He turned and saw Litonya and Jean on the other side of the room, hurling bottles of alcohol with all their might.

  The Skoocoom rose, stumbling toward the open doors, sprawling and rolling, putting out some of the flames as she escaped. But she was still burning as she leaped over the steps and ran screaming down the dark street. Pale faces peered out dark windows in neighboring buildings, frightened but curious, watching as an impossibly huge, manlike being ran by them in flames.

  And then it was over, and it was as if Frank’s bones melted in his body. He slumped to his knees and pitched forward in exhaustion. He closed his eyes, but didn’t quite pass out.

  He looked about, expecting the saloon to be in flames, but the fires were sputtering fitfully on the green timber. Citizens were showing up with buckets of water, and when he saw that the problem was being handled, he collapsed.

  He felt Virginia’s hands on his forehead and cheeks, and murmured “I’m all right” in response.

  “Stay here,” she whispered into his ear. “I’ll check on the others.”

  Frank nodded. The sense of relief he felt was so strong that he wanted to bask in it for a while. He heard Litonya talking to Jean, urging him to stay awake, and then his father’s voice, and footsteps coming toward him, the same comforting, familiar footsteps he’d remembered from childhood. “Son! Son, are you hurt?” He heard panic in Thomas’s brusque voice.

  “I’m alive,” Frank said, opening his eyes. “A little charred around the edges, but nothing that won’t grow back.”

  His father’s eyes held a look of concern Frank hadn’t seen since he was a young boy. His son, his “soft” son—now his only son—had fought off demons with only the help of a small woman. That’s how Thomas would see it, at least, even if the reality was that Frank had helped her. Litonya and Jean likely wouldn’t even count in his father’s estimation.

  “What was it?” Thomas marveled. “Some kind of bear?”

  “It was the beast’s Mother,” Frank said.

  “Are there more of them?” his father exclaimed.

  Frank shook his head. “No, Father, I don’t think there are many of them at all.”

  * * *

  Less than a day later, all the blame had fallen on Bidwell . He hadn’t built the bar; he’d started out as a bartender, working for an Irishman named Murphy who wanted to create a fine establishment, with a theater and grand music. Murphy had disappeared one day, and Bidwell claimed that he’d won the saloon in a poker game. He’d produced the receipt, and everyone ignored the brown stains on the corner of the note. Bidwell and his companions began buying up the town, for far less than the properties were actually worth. He didn’t overtly threaten anyone, but there were more suspicious disappearances.

  So it was easy for everyone to believe that all the ruckus had been between Bidwell’s men and the party of ranchers, one of whom was the girl from the Donner Party, Virginia Reed.

  People fell silent when she passed.

  Everyone wanted to believe the more prosaic explanation for what happened, though they sensed that there was more to it.

  No one mentioned the flaming giant that had screamed its way out of town.

  “Shouldn’t we tell them the truth?” Frank asked Virginia.

  “Would you have believed me if I had told you the Donner Party was attacked by werewolves?” Virginia responded.

  He fell silent at that.

  As far as the events in the mountains went, the decimation of the search party was attributed to Indian attacks. Perhaps if there had been more than a few survivors, the real story might have emerged. Only Preacher MacLeod told the truth, but people just shook their heads at his wild story, thinking the trauma had driven him crazy. He’d been badly wounded, after all.

  A few days later, they found his clothes in the middle of his room—but he was gone.

  Frank screwed up his courage enough to ask Virginia to accompany him back to the ranch. The least he could do was give her shelter, he pointed out. There was no obligation on her part, he hastened to add.

  “Not yet,” she finally answered. “There is something I must do first.”

  “I’m too forward,” he said, his heart sinking. “If I misunderstood…”

  “Shush, you,” she whispered, putting her finger to his lips. “If your heart is saying what mine is, you haven’t misunderstood anything.”

  “Then why?” he asked, crestfallen.

  “It isn’t over,” she said. “The Ts’emekwes weren’t killed, either of them. When they take their revenge, they will take it on both the innocent and guilty. I can’t allow that. It’s because I’m the Canowiki, I suppose. Something compels me to put an end to it.”

  “Is Feather…Litonya…going with you?”

  Virginia shook her head. “It is up to me to finish this. She is staying with Jean Baptiste until he heals.”

  “Then I’m going with you,” Frank stated.

  “I can’t ask that of you. You saw how dangerous it is.”

  “I would rather be in danger with you than be safe at the ranch without you,” he said. “Besides, these creatures killed my brothers. I have more of a reason to seek revenge than you.”

  She started to object, but he interrupted her. “The only question remaining is, when do we leave?”

  Virginia smiled at his tone of voice. Then her smile wavered and she looked away. “I think my life is going to be difficult, Frank. Not only in the near future, but from now on. You should find a nice girl to marry and settle down.”

  “I want you, settled or not,” he said. And there was not a single doubt in his mind.

  “We leave in the morning,” Virginia said. “Before the others wake.”

  CHAPTER 21

  It was still dark when Virginia and Frank rode out of town the next day. He suspected half the town was peering at them from behind their curtains. They were fully outfitted for once, with plenty of food, as Virginia had insisted. The merchants of Bidwell’s Bar were so grateful that the tyrant was gone that they gave Frank and Virginia nearly anything they asked for.

  Still, most of the townspeople wouldn’t look Virginia in the eye, as if they were afraid of her. Now she was being shunned not only because she was a survivor of the Donner Party, but also because stories were circulating that she was a strange creature herself, perhaps even a witch. It was difficult for Frank to grasp that anyone could believe such things in this day and age.

  Then again, he had just fought werewolves and giants.

  They accept Virginia’s help because they need her, Frank thought. But when she’s done, they’ll go right back to spurning her.

  Virginia didn’t seem to notice. She seemed to always have a far-off look in her eye. It was only when they were alone, talking, that her eyes focused on the here and now…on him. He didn’t always know what to say to her, but he made sure she knew he would always be there.

  He was grateful for those moments alone with her, and understood that she would always be drawn away from him by the inexplicable and the strange, but that he would be her companion and her safe harbor from the world at large. And he was glad to be that, if that was what she needed.

  Late the previous evening, Litonya again volunteered to come, but her reluctance was plain. Jean Baptiste had collapsed after the battle and still hadn’t regained mobility. She was never far from his side.

  “No, Litonya,” Virginia said, taking her friend’s hands in hers. “Please, stay and take care of Jean.”

  “If thou refusest to let me accompany thee, I must tell thee how to find the Ts’emekwes,” Litonya said. She proceeded to describe a high moun
tain valley with a single entrance that couldn’t be seen until one was right on top of it.

  “When thou comest to the pass, thou wilt see a small stream flowing from the northeast corner of the high plateau,” she explained. “It will appear to be nothing more than glacial runoff, but it is the source of the North Fork. There is a spring at the end of the canyon, enclosed on three sides by high cliffs. On the north side of the spring, thou wilt see trees lining the cliffs. Concealed behind that row of trees is the home of the Ts’emekwes.”

  “Draw me a map?” Virginia asked.

  At that moment, Jean Baptiste cried out, and Litonya flinched. “The map will be ready by the time thou leavest,” she said over her shoulder as she hurried to his side.

  The weather cleared, and Thompson Peak loomed over Bidwell’s Bar, a fresh coat of snow atop its rocky summit. There was a nip of chill in the air, but the skies were blue as the sun rose over the mountains. In the light of day, the events of the past weeks seemed impossible, like a dream fading in the morning sun.

  * * *

  It was an enjoyable journey that first day. When Frank and Virginia reached the river, it was placid and easy to cross.

  They talked about small things, making observations about the weather and the countryside around them, as they started up the path into the mountains. It was a pleasant fall day. Frank became conscious of the squeak of the leather saddles, the breathing of the horses, the buzz of the mosquitoes surrounding them.

  Despite the bright sun, it grew colder as they climbed the foothills. It was so peaceful that Frank felt his apprehension starting to fade. When they stopped for the night, Frank was glad just to be with Virginia. They started a fire and then sat close to each other, not quite touching.

  “We should get married,” Frank blurted. The proposal had been on the tip of his tongue for days, but he’d been afraid to say it out loud, afraid of driving her away. But he realized that if he didn’t say something now, he might never have another chance. “My father will give me part of the ranch for our own,” he continued, the words spilling out of his mouth. “He can’t…he won’t object to you.”

  “You know that can’t happen,” Virginia said. “You must take care of your ranch. I must be the Canowiki, wherever that leads.”

  “But…”

  “You can’t go,” Virginia said bluntly. “And I can’t stay.”

  “But what if…” he countered, “what if I stay, so that can you go do what you must? I will be here when you need me. I will not stand in your way.”

  She appeared to be trying to find an answer to that, and it seemed that she was actually considering the offer. Then a strange expression came over her face, and she turned away.

  “What is it?” Frank asked.

  “I just realized that I have once again turned a year older without noticing it,” she said.

  “How old are you?” He’d been wondering. Sometimes she seemed so young, like a little girl, and other times she seemed as mature and wise as a grandmother.

  “I turned sixteen a couple of days ago,” she said. “I’m old enough to make up my own mind about who I want to be with…and how I want to be with him.”

  Frank sat there, trying to interpret her words in a way he could trust, for he was afraid his fear for her safety and his desire for her were combining to twist her message. But then Virginia leaned toward him and took his face in her hands, bringing his lips to hers.

  This was plain speech, no doubt about it. Frank let go of doubt. His kissed her, and a hunger like he’d never felt before overwhelmed him. It was if the world had narrowed into that single moment, as if all creation had been waiting for this, for him and her to come together. They merged, becoming both the whole world and the only two people in it.

  He knew this time together would define their entire future…if they were to be lucky enough to have one. It was a vow, a commitment, a promise to be together forever.

  Afterwards, they slept in each other’s arms under the soft glow of the moon, in a darkness that, for the first time in days, brought peace, not danger.

  * * *

  The trail was clear; the dried tracks left by the original search party were still visible. There were no miners in sight, but they’d be back.

  Frank tried to imagine this winding trail becoming a road, flat and wide enough for wagons, but it was impossible. It was reassuring to know that the alpine vistas would remain forever out of reach of man’s destruction—reassuring until he came across the remnants of mining camps and realized that nothing was out of reach.

  It was a hot day, and it stayed hot no matter how high up they went. The trail passed in and out of shade, the trees blocking the sun like the slats of a giant fence. Frank let his mind drift. When he closed his eyes, he sensed the shadows and light through his eyelids, and it all seemed peaceful and eternal. The breeze in the shade was tantalizingly cool.

  On the second night, they camped at one of the same spots the party had used on the way down the mountain. Frank volunteered for first watch. Virginia fell asleep instantly, and when it was her turn to watch, he decided not to wake her. What he really wanted to do was crawl under the blankets with her, and he knew she would welcome him.

  Instead, he stood guard for the rest of the night, giving her the rest she needed.

  As he watched her sleep, he marveled that this miraculous and one-of-a-kind woman had come into his life. He didn’t deserve her, but he did give himself credit for seeing how impressive she was. Most men would’ve had difficulty accepting her strength and her power, but he recognized that his destiny was to help her on the long and difficult path ahead of her. He was no coward. His life with her would not be simple or safe, but he was glad for it.

  In the morning, they would rise and enter the secret canyon that Litonya had described, and there they would face not one, but two of the giant creatures. Frank had no illusions that he, by himself, could do anything effective against them. But he would do whatever Virginia needed; whatever the Canowiki needed.

  He smiled to himself. His life with Virginia Reed might not be long, but it would be interesting.

  Perhaps if he hadn’t been sitting there shivering all night, he never would have remembered the cache of gunpowder at the mining camp. When Virginia finally awoke in the morning, the sun was well above the horizon. He told her about the nearby explosives.

  She brightened at the suggestion. It wasn’t until then that he grasped that she was equally doubtful of success; perhaps more so, for he had the simple faith that she knew what she was doing. Now he realized that she had no plan.

  “We can blow up the entrance to the cave,” she said. “Trap them inside. Since they are wounded, they may not know what is happening until it’s too late.”

  There was a single rocky trail there, going up the slope at a slight angle. It was a narrow path, with tree roots showing through the soil on both sides. Thick treetops towered above them, allowing little light below. Frank’s eyes were focused on the light above them, at the end of the tunnel of trees. He gradually realized how silent the forest was; even the background noise of birds and insects had died away.

  Virginia was tense, staring resolutely ahead. It was this stiffness that made Frank glance to the side of the path.

  At first, he sensed rather than saw their silent companions. When an Indian finally revealed himself, about midway along the corridor of trees, it was because he wanted to be seen. The Miwok was tall, with a noble countenance. His nose was long and straight, and his eyes glittered in the shadows. Standing next to this tall Indian was Hugh, dressed as a Miwok brave, war paint on his face. He glared at Frank as if he didn’t know him, as if he was just another intruder he wanted to kill.

  Virginia rode by the silent Indians without looking at them, as if they weren’t there. Frank followed her lead, his back itching from the vulnerability of their position. Emerging into the light, he expected an arrow in the back at any moment, but they made it to the other side of the corrido
r.

  It wasn’t until they had climbed several hundred feet above the forest that Frank spoke. “Why did they let us pass?”

  “Because the Ts’emekwes hunt them as well now,” Virginia explained. “This is why Litonya sought me in the first place.”

  “But why now?”

  “The Skoocooms and the Indians lived together in peace until the white man came to dig up the mountainside,” Virginia explained. “The Skoocooms are only responding to the threat, defending their territory. But what the beasts don’t understand is that there are more white men coming, and more after that. Soon, the Indians will be driven off the land or killed. And the wild creatures of the forest—the wolves and the grizzly bears and even the Skoocoom, anything that is a threat—will be hunted until they are gone.”

  It had never occurred to Frank that the predators of the wild could be extinguished. They were an ever-present danger, and always had been. Every year, they lost a few head of cattle to the wolves and cougars, and when you wandered into the forest, it was prudent to make lots of noise so that you didn’t stumble across a mother grizzly and her cub. It was just the way of things.

  Suddenly, Frank had a vision of the West settled the way the rest of America was settled. What a strange thing to contemplate! Miles and miles of roads and fields and fences. Domesticated animals where wild creatures once roamed. Cities and bridges and dams. It was a future that seemed impossibly far off, but now that the vision had come to him, he knew it was inevitable.