David Robbins - Yellowstone Run

“How about right now?”

“It’s your funeral, cow chip.”

“Enough!” Star snapped, glaring at the War Chief. “These are our friends!”

“They’re your friends,” Iron Wolf replied.

“And as for you, Nathan,” Plato interjected, “I believe you’re way out of tine.” He looked at Blade. “Don’t you agree?”

The giant’s countenance was inscrutable. “Hickok, why don’t you go give Geronimo a hand?”

“Sure, pard,” Hickok answered dutifully, his icy gaze still riveted on the Flathead. He wheeled abruptly and stalked off.

Star uttered a nervous, flighty laugh. “Where are my manners? Did I forget to introduce everyone? Iron Wolf, this is Plato, the man who took me in after my parents were killed and the tribe was taken captive,” she said, indicating the Family Leader. “And this big guy is Blade, the top Warrior.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Plato stated, offering his right hand.

“I’ve heard a great deal about you,” Iron Wolf remarked, shaking hands.

“You helped Star through a very trying time.”

“My wife, Nadine, did most of the helping. She took Star under her wing and gave the princess all the love and sympathy she needed.”

“You’re too modest,” Star mentioned. “Both of you were there when I needed you.”

Plato smiled at her. “And we’ll always be here should you need us.”

Iron Wolf glanced at the giant. “And I’ve heard a lot about you too.

They say you are the deadliest man alive.”

“Not true,” Blade said, and pointed at the retreating back of the Family’s preeminent gunfighter. “There goes the deadliest man alive.”

“Oh, really?” Iron Wolf responded, smirking.

Blade nodded. “Really.”

The War Chief regarded the giant for a moment, then stared at the gunman. “What makes him so deadly?”

“Do you mean other than the fact that there isn’t a person alive who can beat him on the draw? Well, for one thing, he has the perfect Warrior mentality. He has a warrior’s soul. And he has the will.”

“The will?”

“The will to kill. Not all men and women can kill when it’s required.

Hickok, on the other hand, will kill anyone or anything, anytime, if it’s required in the line of duty.”

“How can you say he has the perfect Warrior mentality when he becomes offended so easily?”

“We all have our little quirks,” Blade said flatly.

Iron Wolf seemed to ponder the information for a few seconds.

“Perhaps I should apologize to him.”

“I’ll do it for you,” Blade proposed.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Sure? Why not?”

Plato cleared his throat. “Now that we have that out of the way, why don’t we go to my cabin and discuss the reason for your trip to the Home?”

“I can fill you in while we walk,” Star said, and looped her arm around his.

The four of them headed eastward, crossing the drawbridge and moving toward the concrete blocks.

“Whatever has brought you here must be extremely urgent,” Plato commented after a bit.

Blade, walking behind them, inadvertently tensed when he heard Star’s reply.

“You don’t know the half of it. Members of our tribe have mysteriously disappeared. Hunters have been torn to pieces in the deep woods. And the search parties we’ve sent out have never returned.” She paused. “I think we have a mutant problem.”

“Why do you suspect mutants?” Plato inquired.

“Because of the tracks and other factors,” Star said and sighed. “I suppose I should start at the beginning so you can fully appreciate what we’re up against.” She paused. “It all began about two years ago. As you already know, our tribe is now in control of the area once known as the state of Montana. Most of the whites were evacuated by the government during the war, but the government didn’t bother evacuating the Flatheads. I guess they figured we weren’t worth the effort.”

Blade listened attentively, surreptitiously observing Iron Wolf the whole time, taking his measure of the War Chief.

“The land was left to the Indians,” Star went on. “There are other tribes living in the region, such as the Assiniboine, the Chippewa, the Cree, and the Crow. There are a few Blackfeet left too, although most of them went into Canada at the outset of that war. So the Flatheads are the most numerous, and we’ve become the dominant tribe.”

“Your ancestors would be proud of your accomplishments,” Plato said.

“Well, all this has a point. You see, about two years ago a terrible tragedy befell one of our settlements in western Montana. When the evacuations occurred during World War Three, many of the towns and communities became deserted, abandoned ghost towns. Our people have moved into some of the old towns. One of them, Medicine Springs, was located near the border with Idaho.”

“Was?” Plato said.

“Two years ago there were over a dozen families living in Medicine Springs. They made their living by trapping and hunting. Once a month a trader from Missoula would take his wagon down to Medicine Springs to collect the pelts the trappers had caught and to trade with the families,” Star related, her visage downcast. “One day the trader arrived in Medicine Springs on his usual rounds and found everyone gone. Missing. Without a trace. Every man, woman, and child had just vanished.”

The Leader’s brow knit. “How could everyone simply vanish?”

“We had no idea. Warriors were dispatched to investigate the disappearances. Iron Wolf led the search party.”

Plato looked at the War Chief. “What did you find?”

“Nothing,” the Flathead said, his facial muscles tightening. “We looked and looked for weeks. We found where pots of food had been cooking on the stove, as if the people were interrupted while preparing a meal. We found nearly every pet, every dog and cat and goat, had been killed, torn to pieces. But we found no trace of the residents. Nothing. We scoured the forest for miles in all directions and didn’t even find a footprint.”

“How bizarre,” Plato said.

“It gets weirder,” Star informed him. “Medicine Springs was just the first settlement to be hit. Over the next several months the communities of Jackson and Grant suffered the same fate.”

“And again we found nothing,” Iron Wolf mentioned. “Almost nothing, anyway. A few strange hairs were discovered.”

“Why were the hairs strange?”

“Because no one could identify them. My people are familiar with every type of animal known in our region. After all, we’ve fished, hunted, and trapped the Northwest for centuries. And yet no one knew what kind of hairs were found stuck to a broken window in one of the homes. They resembled grizzly bear hairs, but they weren’t the same,” Iron Wolf said.

“That’s when the rumors started,” Star added.

“What rumors?” Plato questioned.

“A lone hunter claimed to have seen a group of… things. He reported these creatures walked like men, but they looked like bears. Combined with the strange hairs that were found, it was enough for rumors to make the rounds, rumors concerning evil Bear People who were murdering Flatheads in their sleep.”

“Has anyone else seen the Bear People?”

“No. But later, when the community of Lakeview was hit, unusual tracks were found, tracks displaying bearish and human traits,” Star said.

“I saw those tracks myself,” Iron Wolf stated. “They were the most bizarre tracks I’ve ever laid eyes on. We found them along the shore of Lower Red Rock Lake.”

“Hmmmm,” Plato commented, scratching his beard. “Did you ever find footprints made by the missing people?”