Yellowstone Run

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A rosy tinge enveloped the eastern horizon and radiated upward and outward, heralding the arrival of a new day, the signal for the sparrows and starlings and other birds in Yellowstone to greet the dawn in their own inimitable manner, by chirping and singing in a boisterous avian chorus.

Blade sat on the east side of the fire, staring at the low flames and the burning embers, and inhaled deeply. Morning at last! He’d been unable to catch a wink of sleep alt night. How could he doze off when the creatures might return? How could he take even a short nap when Hickok and Geronimo were in danger of losing their lives, if they hadn’t already? Not to mention Priscilla and Eagle Feather. The thought of the Mormon woman prompted him to glance to his right.

Achilles hadn’t slept either. He’d spent all night walking around the rim of the hill. Around and around and around. Now he was moving along the north edge, his visage downcast, dragging his heels.

“Are you ready?” Blade asked.

“Finally,” Achilles responded, halting and stretching. “Yes I’m ready I can’t wait to catch the things that took Priscilla.”

“And the others,” Blade noted dryly.

“Of course. I want to rescue them too.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” Blade said. He stood and surveyed the countryside. To the south, a quarter of a mile distant, were four large animals. Buffaloes, he assumed, until he look a closer look and distinguished the distinctive outlines and flowing tails of a godsend.

“Horses!”

“Where?” Achilles inquired, hurrying over.

Blade pointed. “Go get them while I check for tracks.”

“On my way,” Achilles replied, running off.

The giant stood watching the novice jog down the slope, then turned and stepped to the north rim. He slowly proceeded westward around the outer circumference, intently examining the ground for prints.

Unfortunately, grass covered almost every square inch of earth, minimizing the possibility of discovering an impression. He deduced that the things had departed either to the north, west, or south because he and Achilles had been to the east and hadn’t spied the creatures leaving with their burdens. Of course, the things could have slipped past unseen.

Blade paused. Another factor to consider was the direction of travel the mutations had been taking before the attack last night. The creatures had been bearing in a south-southeasterly direction, and they might still be on the same course.

Might.

Then again, they might not.

Perturbed, he reached a point due west of the smoldering fire and noticed a saucerlike depression of dirt at the base of the hilt. What could have happened to the grass? He wondered, and ran toward the depression.

He vaguely recalled reading that buffaloes often formed dusty wallows in which they rolled and rubbed repeatedly. This must be one.

The depression was ten feet in width, and the earth had been churned into clods by the constant tramping of heavy hoofs.

Blade halted next to the wallow, noting the scores of hoof-prints in the dirt and around the border. He knelt and scrutinized the earth for different prints. If the creatures had fled in this direction, they might not have noticed the wallow in the dark. Or they might not have viewed the leaving of tracks as anything to become worried about. In any event, if he could find just one clear print he’d know which way they went.

He found five.

They were all along the north side of the wallow, crossing from east to west, blending into the buffalo prints so well he didn’t notice them at first.

Five prominent toes were the giveaway, and he moved around the border and squatted to examine the footprints.

How grotesque.

Blade had done a fair amount of hunting and tracking in his lifetime, and never had he beheld the like. They appeared to be a cross between a human print and a bear track, which fit the description supplied by Star and Iron Wolf.

The Bear People.

The bastards.

He stood and walked back up the slope, debating his next move and trying to rationalize the intent of the creatures. Why were the things now heading westward after traveling southward for so many miles? Were they trying to throw off any pursuit? Did the things intend to double back later? What was his best option? Go west? Or go south?

Blade came to the crest and stopped. Tracking the mutations promised to be a difficult and arduous task. It would entail scouring every foot of exposed earth en route on the off chance one of the creatures had goofed and left a print. Such a procedure would be wearisome and time-consuming, and time was a commodity they were short on.

But what choice did they have?

He moved to the fire and stared idly at the last of the flames, chiding himself for his performance. He should never have divided his forces! If only that woman hadn’t screamed…

The woman!

Milly Odum!

Blade gazed to the southeast. He’d forgotten all about her in the heat of events, What if she was lying down there, injured? Or what if she had escaped the creatures and was now hiding in the general area? Should he ride to the scavenger camp before heading out after his friends, Eagle Feather, and Priscilla?

What was he thinking?

The plain where the buffaloes had been slain must be three or four miles distant. Precious time would be consumed in the ride there and back. He had to be practical. The odds that Odum had escaped the mutations was virtually nil. The creatures had undoubtedly captured her, as well. So venturing to the camp would serve no useful purpose.

Still, what if he was wrong?

Blade shook his head, his lips tightening. He had to be firm. He had to weigh which course of action would achieve the greatest good. Giving chase to the mutations must be his paramount priority. If it later developed that he’d been in error, then he could indulge in self-recrimination. Personal failings were best reflected in the mirror of one’s own soul in private. The faint sound of drumming hoofs reached his ears.

He hastened to the south rim and saw Achilles galloping toward the hill astride a brown stallion, the red cloak streaming in the wind, leading another horse, a black gelding, by the reins. Eager to get underway, he jogged to meet the younger man halfway.

“The other two ran off,” Achilles announced as he drew nearer. “I assumed you didn’t want me to waste time trying to catch them.”

“You were right,” Blade stated.

“With the horses we should overtake the mutations quickly,” Achilles declared optimistically.

“Unless they can run as fast as a horse,” Blade noted, and slowed to a walk.”

Achilles reined up and scowled. “I never thought of that. Some mutants are quite fleet of foot.”

“Let’s hope these are part turtle,” Blade quipped. He the stallion and took the reins from Achilles.

“Surely we can catch them by nightfall.”

“We’ll do our best,” Blade said, and swung onto the black horse. He glanced at the hill, remembering the Flathead’s Winchester, and decided against retrieving the rifle. There wasn’t time. “Let’s go,” he directed, and rode to the west.

“Did you find their tracks?” Achilles inquired hopefully.

Blade nodded. “If you’re up to it, I don’t intend to stop except for nature breaks. No food, no rest until our fellow Warriors and Eagle Feather are safe and sound.”

“And Priscilla. Don’t forget about her.”

“Did I neglect to mention her name?” Blade said, suppressing a grin.

“Sorry about that. Now let’s ride.” He led the way to the wallow, then swung westward. They crossed the field and entered a strip of woods, their eyes riveted to the ground, constantly seeking footprints. Beyond the woods lay a narrow plain, which they traversed in short order. The land began to slope gradually upward, and they found themselves ascending hills thick with pines and fallen timbers. The hills blended into a mountain range.

Three times they found tracks. Once in the comparatively softer soil in a small gully west of the woods. The second set of prints was discovered on the narrow plain. And the last impressions were imbedded in the moist earth next to a trickle of a creek bisecting the hills.

Early on, one fact became readily apparent. The mutations were moving at a swift rate, indicated by the manner in which their footprints were imbedded in the dirt. Because of their weight and their speed, they tended to splatter the mud and earth outward when their feet came down hard.

Blade tried to save time by deducing the probable route taken by the creatures. Most men and animals usually took the path of least resistance; they would go around a mountain instead of over it, or they would skirt dense brush instead of plunging through a thicket. Not so with the Bear People. Blade perceived that the creatures intentionally preferred the most difficult course. Undoubtedly to discourage pursuit, the mutations went directly over hills and mountains and passed through thickets with apparent ease. Either they were incredibly clever or they were amazingly resilient.

Or both.

An hour went by. Then two. Three. By the fourth hour Blade’s simmering impatience threatened to shatter his normally superb self-control. He realized catching the things wouldn’t be easy, and his anxiety over Hickok and Geronimo mounted. He felt sympathy for Eagle Feather and Priscilla too. But the gunman and the Blackfoot had been his dearest friends since childhood. The three of them had been almost inseparable since the age of four. He knew himself well enough to know that if anything ever happened to them, he’d go crazy with grief. And there wouldn’t be a single damn member of the Bear People left alive when he was through.

Well, there wouldn’t be, anyway.

By late afternoon they were approaching a narrow pass through the mountains. The shadows were lengthening and the air becoming quite chill.

“We won’t find them today,” Achilles commented morosely.

“You never know,” Blade responded, his tone totally lacking conviction.

“If I ask you a question, will you promise me not to laugh?”

Surprised by the query, Blade looked at the novice. “What’s your question?”

“Why is it that all I can think of today is Priscilla? I mean, I hardly know the woman. We talked for a few hours. That’s all. And yet I can’t seem to get her out of my mind. I keep hearing the silken music of her voice and the cheery sparkle of her laugh. And when I close my eyes, I see every chiseled contour of her radiant beauty. Why?”

“You missed your calling,” Blade said, the corners of his mouth curling upward.

“What?”

“You should be a poet.”

“I’m serious, Blade.”

“And so am I,” the giant replied, and sighed. “Do you want the truth?”

“I would, expect nothing less from you.”

“You’re in love.”

Achilles snorted. “I hardly know the woman,” he reiterated skeptically.

“Tell that to your hormones.”

The man in the red cloak digested the news for half a minute. “Do you feel the same way about Jenny?”

Blade smiled happily. “Yeah. Which astounds me sometimes.”

“Why?”

“After all these years, even after having a son, I still love her as much as I did when we were first married,” Blade said. He chuckled. “Correction. I love her even more. When a relationship is based in love and nurtured by wisdom, the affection is bound to grow.”

“You sound like Plato.”

“Who do you think told it to me?”

“I wonder if she feels the same way about me,” Achilles remarked.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you mere. With a woman there’s no telling.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Men and women are two distinct varieties of the same species. We’re flip sides of the same coin. Although we can love one another and become as close as it’s possible for human beings to be, complete comprehension between a man and a woman is impossible. We’re essentially different from women, Achilles, and anyone who tells you otherwise doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Achilles stared at the giant. “Are those Plato’s words?”

“They’re mine,” Blade said. “Don’t get me wrong. I love Jenny with all my heart and soul, and I flatter myself that I know her better than anyone else does. But I still can’t predict her every thought and word, and I doubt I’ll ever be able to do so. That’s part of the mystique of romance.”

“What about those who claim that men and women are basically the same except for their sex organs?”

“They’re morons. In every part of our being, in our personalities, our minds, and our bodies, we’re different from women. Live with one for a while and you’ll see what I mean.

“I hope I do, one day.”

Blade stared ahead at the pass, a defile averaging ten yards in width and 20 feet in height, its walls composed of smooth, solid rock. He leaned forward and peered at the soil, seeking tracks. He entered the pass first, engrossed in scrutinizing the dirt, wondering if the Bear People would continue to the west on the opposite side of the mountain range. He was grateful the creatures were in such a hurry. Otherwise, he’d have to worry about the possibility of an ambush.

As it turned out, be should have worried anyway.

Blade realized his error the next moment when he heard a feral snarl from overhead and glanced up in lime to see a bestial form hurtling toward him.