David Robbins - Yellowstone Run

Hickok nodded at three horses 40 feet away. “They’ll likely wander off if we don’t catch them now.”

“It can’t be helped. Eagle Feather and Priscilla are more important.”

“We’re on our way,” Geronimo said, and sprinted off.

The gunman hesitated.

“Is something wrong?” Blade asked.

“Yeah.”

“What?”

“I don’t rightly know,” Hickok declared, and frowned. He gazed at the plain below. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel like that time we were in the Twin Cities and all those blamed Wacks were watchin’ us, only we didn’t know it at first.”

Blade had learned to trust the gunfighter’s instincts. He scanned their surroundings but saw nothing out of the ordinary. “If there is something out there, I doubt we’ll have to worry until after the sun goes down.”

Hickok glanced at the sun, which was descending toward the western horizon, and nodded. “I reckon so.” He headed for the summit. “I’d best tell Geronimo to make that a big fire.”

An hour after sunset the air became cool thanks to a stiff breeze from the west, a breeze that fanned the flickering red and orange flames and sent fiery sparks wafting into the atmosphere.

Blade sat on the south side of the fire, his arms looped around is legs, his chin resting on his knees, and pondered their predicament. The fire and the roast venison had done wonders for Priscilla and Eagle Feather and aided their recovery after the grueling cauterization. Blade had done the honors himself, using a red-hot firebrand on both of them, inserting the thin, glowing stick into their bullet holes as far as it would go, first from the front and then from the rear. Priscilla had tried her best, but the agony had caused her to cry out and swoon. Eagle Feather, to his credit, had refused to scream the first time, although he had broken into a sweat and trembled as if suffering from a grave illness. But when the first attempt had failed to staunch the loss of blood, Blade had reheated the firebrand and tried once more, inserting the stick even farther, and the Flathead had succumbed to the torment and passed out. The second cauterization had been successful.

The Warrior stared at the two of them, lying to the north of the blazing wood Geronimo had gathered earlier, and nodded. They should both live.

He’d allowed them to rest for half an hour after the operation, until the venison had been cooked, then aroused them to partake of the succulent meat. Now they were both conversing with Achilles, who seemed to have attached himself to the Mormon woman. From the way Priscilla kept touching his arm and leaning close to him, she reciprocated fully. Blade grinned at the sight. He’d have to take Achilles aside after they returned to the Home and talk to the “true gentleman” about conducting a romance while on duty.

Novices!

Blade leaned back and looked at Hickok, who sat on his right, then rotated his head until he spied Geronimo, who was on guard duty and walking the perimeter.

The full moon had risen 40 minutes ago.

“Tomorrow we’ll see if we can catch any of the horses and begin sweeping the area for sign of the Bear People,” Blade said conversationally.

“The who?” Priscilla asked.

“Mutations. They abducted Eagle Feather’s wife and two sons. The reason we’re in Yellowstone is to find them and eliminate them,” Blade explained.

“What do they look like?”

“No one knows for sure.”

“I caught a glimpse of them,” the Flathead disclosed. “I only know they are big and hairy and very, very clever.”

“I wonder if they were involved in the disappearance of two of Harmon’s men,” Priscilla remarked.

Blade peered at her through the flames. “Two of his men vanished?”

“Yep. About a week ago. We never found a trace of them, but we did discover one of their horses. It had been partially eaten.”

“Were any strange tracks found at the scene?” Blade asked.

“Not that I know of.”

Could there be a connection? Blade wondered. The Bear People might have been responsible for the disappearance of the pair of scavengers, but a wild beast could just as well have done the job. He speculated on whether he had miscalculated. Maybe the creatures had already passed through the Lamar Valley and were now somewhere in central or southern Wyoming. If he’d—

“Blade! Hickok!” Geronimo suddenly shouted.

The giant leaped to his feet , grabbing the Commando as he stood. “Stay put,” he directed the others, then nodded at the gunman and together they ran to their friend.

Geronimo was standing on the southeast side of the summit, the FNC cradled loosely, staring at something in the distance.

“What is it, pard?” Hickok asked.

“Did you hear something?” Blade added.

“I see something,” Geronimo informed them. “A fire, to be precise.” He lifted his right hand and pointed.

Blade spied the campfire before Geronimo’s arm was extended. A solitary beacon of light in a virtual sea of shadowy landscape, the roaring blaze appeared to be three times the size of their own. He estimated the fire to be situated in the general vicinity of the slain buffalo. “It must be the other woman, Milly Odum,” he commented.

“What the blazes is she tryin’ to do?” Hickok questioned. “Set the countryside on fire?”

“She’s probably scared being all by herself,” Geronimo guessed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she keeps mat fire going all night.”

“How about if I mosey on down there and try and persuade her to join us?” Hickok proposed. “She shouldn’t be all by her lonesome in a wilderness like this.”

“You’d have to cover over three miles,” Blade noted.

“So? I’m not afraid of the dark,” Hickok responded. “Besides, with the full moon and all, it’s not that bad.”

Blade debated for a moment. “No, we’ll all go in the morning. Priscilla told me that Odum will take off if we try to get near her, and we don’t want her roaming around at night.”

“Suit yourself,” Hickok said with a shrug.

“One of us will relieve you in a few hours,” Blade said to Geronimo. He turned and took a few strides, then froze when his ears registered the far off sound.

A scream.

A primal, wavering, almost eerie scream, the unmistakable cry of a terrified woman, faint yet compelling in its intensity.

“Dear Spirit!” Geronimo exclaimed. . “I knew it,” Hickok declared. “One of us should get down there, pronto.”

Blade stepped to the crest and stared at the campfire. He thought he saw indistinct forms pass in front of the flames, but he couldn’t be certain.

“I’ll go.”

“Why you?” Hickok asked.

“Because rightfully it’s my job. I’m the representative of the entire Federation in my capacity as the head of the Force,” Blade said, feeling a twinge of guilt. If that woman had been a Family member, he would have gone after her. “I should have tried to contact her earlier. You were right.”

“I was?” Hickok replied, and grinned. “Boy, am I on a roll.”

“By the time you get down there, she’ll probably be dead,” Geronimo mentioned.

“I have to find out for myself,” Blade stated.

“Take one of us with you, pard,” Hickok said.

“Yeah,” Geronimo said. “What if it’s the Bear People?”

Blade swung toward their fire. “Achilles! Front and center on the double!”

“You’re takin’ the greenhorn?” Hickok declared in surprise.

“Why not one of us?” Geronimo questioned.

“He needs the experience. You don’t. It’s that simple,” Blade explained.

He spotted the aspiring Warrior racing their way. “I’ll expect the two of you to keep watch over Priscilla and Eagle Feather. If you see or hear anything out of the ordinary, get off a few shots and we’ll come running.”