William Johnstone - Eyes of Eagles

Jamie never saw him again.

Kate came to his side and Jamie put his arm around her waist. “All you have to do is say no, Kate. And this will be our home forever.”

She smiled up at him. “I only have one objection, Jamie Ian MacCallister.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. With all the kids we have, you should have bought two wagons!”

* * *

In West Texas, Little Wolf had made friends with a small band of renegade Kiowa and Comanche and they spent the winter making life miserable for the few settlers who lived in that area. Little Wolfs reputation as a fearless warrior grew, and soon more renegades joined his ranks. These were Indians who had been kicked out of their tribe for one reason or the other, usually for stealing or coveting someone else’s wife... or murder. They were the worst of the worst and they liked the idea of killing Jamie and of taking the blond Kate for their own use. But riding into East Texas was not such a great idea, for the people there had no patience for warlike Indians.

However, two half-breed Kiowa renegades did step forward, agreeing to travel into East Texas and scout out the area. Since Spanish was their first language, they felt they would have no trouble with whites. The saddles on their horses would be Mexican — stolen, of course. They would dress as Mexicans, act as Mexicans, and speak Spanish. They would see what they had to see and return as quickly as possible.

* * *

The fever of moving west into uncharted lands soon caught on with everybody in that one little pocket of the Big Thicket. It took some convincing, but Moses and Liza soon agreed to move west, as did Sally and Wells. It would be a big enough wagon train to discourage all but a very large war party of hostiles.

That winter everyone worked on wagons, repairing or replacing harness, making spare wheels, and getting ready for spring. The women, of course, hated to leave their snug cabins, but the growing excitement of the children soon became infectious and all looked forward to spring’s budding.

Little Wolfs scouts had ventured into the area, actually never entering the Big Thicket country but instead gathering their information by hanging around San Augustine and listening to talk and gossip. It did not take them long to learn all about Jamie’s plans to move west. As soon as they learned all there was to know, they were back in the saddle and heading west to report to Little Wolf.

They had learned that Jamie planned to visit the Alamo, then cut north and west from there, heading for the big mountains, hundreds of miles away. Little Wolf smiled his insane curving of lips.

“Perfect,” he said.

And it was perfect for Little Wolf and his band. Texas was not going to tolerate much more from the Indians. The philosophy among the settlers was quickly becoming that the only good Indian was a dead one. The climate was rapidly beginning to get very unhealthy for the red man.

“There is only one way they can go,” it was pointed out to Little Wolf. “When they reach this vast emptiness, we can strike.”

“No,” Little Wolf said. “Once they leave the settlement of San Antonio, they will be on guard. And if they are with Man Who Is Not Afraid, they are fierce fighters all. Even the women. I despise Man Who Is Not Afraid, but he is a warrior without equal. I know,” he added bitterly. “So we must strike before they reach the settlement. We have time to plan carefully. They will not leave until spring warms the land. I think it would make my father rest easier if we took them along the same river where my father’s bones are now scattered. Yes. I think that is where Jamie MacCallister will lie rotting. And I will take his wife like a dog beside his body. Or perhaps allow him to live long enough to watch while I humble her; to hear her shrieking in pain and disgrace while we take our turns with her. Yes. That is a good plan. A very good plan.” Little Wolf laughed insanely. His followers knew that Little Wolf was a tad off-center, but they did not know to what extent.

Little Wolf was as crazy as a lizard. But like many insane people, he was also cunning. Little Wolf did not fear death, as long as he saw Jamie die with him. He did not care if every man who followed him died. He cared only in seeing Jamie MacCallister dead.

Dead. Like his father. Little Wolfs eyes began shining with a mad glow. Those renegades close to him slowly backed away, for Little Wolfs temper was a terrible thing to behold. And he was cruel and quite inventive when it came to torturing prisoners — man, woman, or child.

His followers smiled. The taking of this wagon train should prove to be fun. There would be hours, perhaps days, of the screaming of prisoners under torture. There would be women and girls to rape and sodomize.

Fun for everyone.

Forty-nine

When spring began greening the land and flowers were blooming in the meadows, Jamie and his band of westward-bound pioneers closed the door to their cabins and hitched up the teams. Juan Nunez and his family had decided to go with Jamie and the others: twelve adults, five teenagers, and a whole passel of kids. The Nunez boys would be in charge of taking care of the fine horses Jamie raised, the women would drive the wagons, and the men would act as outriders and scouts and hunters. The older kids would take turns spelling the women at the reins.

“How far you reckon them mountains are, Jamie?” Swede asked.

“About a thousand miles, I’d guess.”

“It’ll be a grand adventure, for sure,” Sarah Montgomery said, looking around her at the fields that should have been plowed and planted by now.

Kate was at the tiny cemetery, placing wild flowers on the graves of Baby Karen and Ophelia. Jamie walked over to stand beside her.

“She’s not here, Kate,” he told her. “She’s with God in Heaven.”

When she did not reply, Jamie said, “I guess it’s harder for the mother than it is for the father.”

Kate smiled up at him, her eyes wet from crying. “You might say that, Jamie.”

He felt totally helpless and awkward at moments like these. His Shawnee warrior training nearly always prevented him from showing much emotion. Severe beatings will etch that training forever in one’s mind.

“All you had to do, Kate, was to say you didn’t want to go,” Jamie said gently.

“Don’t be silly.” She wiped her eyes and laughed. “When that minister said ’til death do us part, I took it seriously! ”

They walked over to the wagons and Jamie helped Kate onto the seat. She picked up the reins and winked at him. “Let’s go to the mountains, Jamie Ian MacCallister. I’ve read about them, heard about them, and now I want to see them.”

Jamie swung into the saddle. “Maybe we’ll run into Grandpa there.”

“We won’t if you don’t get moving, love.”

Jamie laughed and rode to the head of the wagons. He twisted in the saddle and looked back for the last time. He did not know why he felt they must leave and go traipsing off into the wilderness, only that they must.

His eyes touched the eyes of Moses, white-headed now, before his time. A more dear and faithful friend no man could ever hope to find. His youngest son, Jed, was driving a wagon filled with tools and spare parts and wheels and anything else they felt they might need.

Sally was driving a wagon, with Wells sitting his horse alongside her.

Jamie locked eyes with Sarah, and she smiled at him from the wagon seat. He looked at Hannah, and she laughed openly. Jamie knew the Swede would never understand the special bond between him and Hannah; a bond so tight that only death would ever break it.

Maria Nunez was handling the reins of her wagon, Juan sitting his horse beside the wagon. Two very fine people who raised well-mannered kids and who knew only hard work and grinding poverty while working the land.