The Bearwalker's Daughter (29 page)
Read The Bearwalker's Daughter Online
Authors: Beth Trissel
He weighed this. “No. You would not be.”
“Karin loves music and dancing,” Jack said, sounding a little more like himself. “I’d give my right arm to dance the night away with her. As would any man in his right mind. Music casts a spell over her.”
A memory returned like a dream and she looked at Shequenor. “Do you by any chance play the flute?”
He smiled. “You heard me.”
“More than that, I followed.”
He grew somber again. “Let me guide you both now.”
****
Snow glistened like millions of moonstones under a blue sky that seemed to arch infinitely across the heavens. Jack cupped his hand before his eyes as he led Peki until his sight adjusted to the blinding brilliance. The shining whiteness reminded him of Mary and he thought it rather odd that he should see both in the same day.
Unlike her fleeting presence, though, these snowy ridges were a rock-hard reality. Jack’s moccasins sank into frigid mounds reaching up mid- calf on him. If the bands he’d tied around the tops weren’t snug enough snow would slip inside putting his feet in danger of frostbite. Leggings helped keep out the ice as did the fur mantle Shequenor insisted on giving him, saying he preferred his buffalo robe. The black skin draped the warrior and lent him the appearance of a shadow. He was very like one walking silently at Jack’s side.
Karin kept dry perched up on Peki as the horse plodded through the drifts. The red blanket wrapping her bundled form stood out like the wings of a cardinal against the purity of the forest. But no birds called. Maybe they waited like Jack. He didn’t fully grasp Shequenor’s plan, nor did Karin. But neither of them had a better one. So Jack trudged back through the hemlocks toward the trail with trepidation in his heart and his cherished weapons left behind at the lodge. Peki provided some means of escape, if it came to that, but fleeing with any speed was impossible in all this snow. Nor could the horse carry three. Shequenor might simply disappear into the forest. But if Mary, and now he, were mistaken in their vision, then Jack was done for. Visions aside, he must live in the real world.
Shequenor swept his hand at the woods. “No one owns this land,
NiSawsawh
. It was once Shawnee. No longer. Our people dare not venture so far east. Why not make it your own? Dwell in the lodge this winter. There are provisions and you are a skilled hunter. In the spring, build a cabin if you like. Keep the other for a hunting lodge.”
Jack stared. “Assuming I survive the day.”
“Jack—” Karin’s voice shook with barely repressed tears. “I shall plead for you.”
“Certainly. That and whatever Shequenor has in mind will make all the difference. But tell me,
NiSawsawh
, where will you be if I’m still here in an hour to ask that question?”
Shequenor slanted black eyes at Jack. “Do not concern yourself for me. I shall be well.”
“But not here?”
“No. This is white man’s land now.”
“I don’t want to be parted from you,
Notha
,” she sniffed. “I’ve only just found you. Perhaps we should go with you?”
He considered her in unveiled amazement. “To live among the Shawnee?”
Jack was also astonished when she firmed up her chin and gave a nod.
Shequenor reached up to Karin and clasped the smaller hand she offered him. “That life is too hard for you. We are pressed on every side like cornered dogs. Yet I am glad of your words. Remember your kinship with the Shawnee.”
“I will.”
He released her hand and she tucked it back inside the blanket. Shequenor gave Jack’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “You too, Jack McCray. Do not forget us.”
“You never let me.”
Stepping further to the side, Shequenor said, “I may not always be here to remind you.”
The loud report of a musket jerked Jack to his senses. The lead ball whistled past his left ear. If to his right, it might’ve struck Peki. Worse—Karin.
She cried out and the stallion tossed his head. But the shot passed harmlessly between him and Shequenor. Someone had lousy aim or that was a warning.
Instinct from his battle days surged in Jack. He must be mad venturing out here unarmed. Gripping the reins, he scanned the trail. Up ahead, he detected a blur of color and movement—men and horses. One mount squealed in alarm.
Evidently Jack didn’t dive for cover fast enough to suit Shequenor.
“Here,” the warrior grunted. Grabbing Jack’s arm, he pulled him and consequently all three of them behind the wide trunk of an oak.
“Jeb Tate! You trying to get my granddaughter killed?” John McNeal bellowed.
“You said we’re here to get that damn Tory who took her and that’s what I aim to do!”
The crack of bone against bone rang out in the clear air. “Fire that confounded musket again and I swear I’ll shoot you myself.”
That voice belonged to Thomas McNeal.
“We know you’re hiding back there, Jack!” Joseph called. “Come out and fight like a man.”
They hadn’t glimpsed Shequenor in his black robe or they’d be hollering about him too. Jack backed Peki further behind the scaly trunk. “Can’t, little brother!” He tied the stallion to a low branch. “I’m unarmed.”
“I didn’t mean with weapons!”
“I bloody did!”
That last shout was Kyle Brewster.
“So did I!” Jeb shooting off his mouth again.
The crack of knuckles swiftly followed with a satisfying crunch.
“Damn you, Thomas! I ain’t shot him yet!” Jeb bellowed.
Jack chuckled. “Hit him again, Thomas. Punch him senseless. He’s already witless.”
Laughter reverberated from Thomas and Jack knew this McNeal was still at least a partial ally.
“Lay off the fellow,” the older McNeal chided his son. “Tend to our business here.”
Karin slid down from Peki and crouched beside Jack.
“Give us back the lass and we’ll go in peace,” John McNeal bargained.
Now they’d arrived at the crux of the matter. “Never. You’ll have to kill me first,” Jack answered.
“Fine by me!” Jeb shouted, despite his bruising.
“And me!” Brewster seconded him. “Fought at Blue Licks, didn’t you, McCray, where your cousin was shot. What kind of low down son of a bitch does that?”
“It was a damn war! And I didn’t kill Peter! At least not as far as I remember,” Jack continued under his breath.
Shequenor made an impatient sound. “This is foolish talk.”
“Damn right,” Jack muttered. “You should have let me bring my rifle and yours. A whole bloody arsenal.”
Karin lurched beside Jack. “You can’t kill our kin.”
“I had Jeb and Brewster in mind. Then we’ll see. Joseph’s a pain in the ass and your grandfather’s a stubborn old coot,” he couldn’t resist adding, knowing full well he’d never do them any harm. “But I must say I like Thomas.”
“So do I. This is madness.” She scrambled up before Jack could stop her, calling out, “Don’t fire! I wish to remain with my husband!”
“Your what?” John McNeal roared. “Where’s the minister who wed you, gal, hidden in those trees alongside you both?”
Seizing a quick bunch of her skirts, Jack jerked her back toward him. “We didn’t get to Reverend McCue yet, but we’re wed all the same!” she shouted on her way down.
“No you’re bloody not!”
She landed in the snow. “Yes we bloody are!” she hurled, clambering back up in a flurry of white.
“Language, Karin McNeal!”
“It’s McCray!”
“The hell it is! You’re coming with us, miss!”
Back and forth, hurled the volley of words. Whether from pride, genuine dislike of Jack, or fierce possessiveness, that old Scotsman wasn’t about to let Karin go. But he’d greatly underestimated his granddaughter.
She dug in her heels beside Jack. “I’ll die if you take me from him, Grandpa.”
“Nonsense. You’re young and strong.”
“So was Mama at first. You wore her down with grief.”
“How dare you blame me for her death? She had fever,” John argued.
“And a broken spirit.”
“She died in childbirth, lass.”
“As may I if you break my heart.”
“What in blazes!”
“Enough! I say it was you and yours who took Mary’s life, John McNeal!” Shequenor called out loud and clear.
Stunned silence followed his declaration. Then John yelled, “Shequenor, is that you?”
“In the flesh. We shall speak.”
“Just you and me?” John asked, hesitancy in his normally staunch tone.
“No. All three of us will come.”
“Very well. Come out and we’ll hold our fire, but mark my words, this will be an end to it.”
Shequenor’s eyes glittered. “Mark my words. It shall. You took back my beloved wife and soon she was dead. Now you have come for my only daughter. You threaten my adopted brother. It is to me you will answer now, McNeal.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Her father’s bold charge repeated in Karin’s head. She almost wished he’d change himself back into that enormous grizzly and chase them all away. But he’d had a cleansing experience today that amounted to salvation. She’d not rob him of that and cast him back into torment, even if she had to go in his stead.
She shook from near unbearable tension. “Shall I walk with you,
Notha
?”
Shequenor dropped his eyes to her, a mix of tenderness and steel in their depths. He slid his fingers under her chin and smoothed her cheek. “No, dear one. Stay by Jack.”
She didn’t understand what was happening, but nodded and held onto Jack’s arm as he led Peki out of the evergreens and into the open.
“Keep behind me,” Shequenor said to them then glided ahead like a hawk on the currents. His moccasins hardly seemed to touch the ground, but he left tracks.
Karin’s shoes weren’t intended for winter and icy wetness slid inside. Far greater threats loomed ahead of her, but it was odd how she noticed her cold feet. Each green bough and bare branch stood out with clarity against the snow. Even the air smelled sharper.
This keen awareness of detail must be the way one felt as they went to their death. If her well- meaning relations and the belligerent oafs with them weren’t stopped, she might as well mount the steps to the gibbet and hang by her neck until dead.
Shequenor halted in the middle of the trail out in front of Jack and Karin. The others drew nearer, their faces and clothing now recognizable. How strange not to run and embrace her menfolk. Everything was horribly wrong.
“Hold the reins and stay put.” Jack thrust them into her hand and stepped up beside the stern warrior.
“I told her to remain behind with you,” Shequenor chided.
“I appreciate that, but can’t let you fight my battle.”
“I am fighting hers, but as you are the cause,
NiSawsawh
, you may stay.”
Jack tossed his chestnut hair like a mane. “Good of you. How are we to proceed without weapons?”
“Remember, only a coward takes the first shot.”
Karin swallowed hard and watched the small band approach through the snow. Grandpa was out in front with Uncle Thomas and Joseph just behind. Further back were Jeb and Brewster. Each man led a horse.
All stopped along the trail and the two parties faced each other. For a tense moment they exchanged narrow looks. Then her grandfather reddened. “It was you who stole our beloved Mary, Shequenor. Not the other way round. Now you have our Karin. Is there no end to your treachery?”
Shequenor leveled his gaze at the man no one in the settlement dared to challenge. “My devotion for them has no end. What of you? Would you see your granddaughter’s eyes fill with tears of joy or sorrow?”
John McNeal scowled at the unyielding warrior. “I never desired anything but her happiness.”
“You stand in the way now.”
“Why must she choose a traitor to his own kind?”
Shequenor snorted. “Jack is many things, but he is no traitor. Not to his Shawnee brother. Not to you.”
“Thanks, brother.”
Grandpa pointed an accusing finger at Jack. “You sought refuge with this blood-thirsty savage and dragged my Karin off with you. Now, you call him brother?”
“Has he a better one here?” Shequenor asked, gesturing at each of the men.
They shifted from boot to boot. Only Uncle Thomas and Grandpa stood firm.
Shequenor dropped his voice. “You know nothing of my thirst for blood, McNeal. I have devoured men larger than you. But that is no longer my wish.”
“Nor mine,” Jack said. “Can we not be at peace, Mister McNeal?”
He frowned beneath his broad-brimmed hat. “I don’t see how.”
Karin could no longer be silent. “Grandpa, please. I love Jack. If you won’t accept him, can you not leave us be?”