The Comanche Vampire (31 page)

“Honey,”
he said and she stirred.
 
“What is it?”
Ned trailed his fingers over her body, from the softness of her shoulders down
to her lean, long legs.
 
Damn, he loved
her.
 
“I thought we’d go out among the
buffalo today,” he said. “Like a hunt but I’m not going to take a kill. I’ll
show you the way it was done, back then, when I was
Pea’hocso
.”

Her
eyes lit with interest and he knew he had her.
 
She’d go with him.
 
Anticipation
rippled through Ned with the sweetness of springtime.
 
“I’d like that,” she said. “But is it
dangerous?”

It
was but he shook his head. “It’s not so much.
 
As long as we don’t spook the herd or get a bull mad, we’ll be
fine.
 
I’d like you to see it before.”

Anne’s
expression shifted. “Before what?”

Before you walk out of my life…
but he didn’t say the words
aloud. “I don’t know, before we get another snow or you get busy with classes
or something.”

She
rolled over and smiled. “Okay, so when are we going?”

Outside,
rare January sunshine lit the barren winter landscape despite the cold
temperatures.
 
“Today,” Ned told her. “Let’s
get up.
 
The earlier we go, the better.”

After
sharing a pot of coffee, toast and sausage, they set out, Anne in jeans, one of
Ned’s long-sleeved flannel shirts, and a coat with a hood.
 
Ned wore what Anne liked to call his
“Comanche outfit”: deerskin leggings, breechclout, feather in his hair and a
bright blanket over his otherwise bare torso. She glanced at him and grinned.
“I like it, but won’t you freeze?”

Ned
shook his head. “I never did before.”
 
Anne quirked her lips into a bow with apparent disdain or disbelief and
sighed. “How often do you hunt buffalo?”

He
hesitated, deciding how to answer.
 
Once,
hunting buffalo meant the difference between feast and famine.
 
Later, Ned did it because he could and to
take the meat or hides.
 
He’d never
killed for sport alone and wouldn’t.
 
Walking out among the herd had risks but he took them for the
experience, the nostalgia and the way doing so made him feel whole if only for
a short span.
 
“Once or twice a year,
lately,” he told her.
 
“I’ve never taken
anyone else until now.”

Her
smile emerged. “Then I’m glad you asked me,” she said. “Let’s go.
 
Are we riding the horses?”

“No,”
he said. She’d studied enough Comanche history she should know better than
that. “The ponies will spook the herd.
 
We’ll drive to the edge of the Wildlife Refuge and park, then walk the
rest of the way.”

Early
on Sunday, there was little traffic and when they reached the edge of the
refuge, Ned parked the truck not far off the road.
 
He cinched on one of his knives, a wicked,
sharp blade and turned to Anne.
 
“Would
you want to carry the shotgun?” he asked.
 
He knew she could shoot although she seldom did.
 

She
nodded. “I will if you’d like me to, but why?”

Ned
shrugged. “It’ll be handy if anything gets out of hand.
 
I doubt we’ll need it but I’d feel better if
you’ll tote it along.”

Anne
nodded so he removed the gun from behind the seat and handed it to her.
 
“It’s got one shell chambered,” he warned.
“But you’d have to cock it before you can fire it.”

“Okay.”

Ned
studied her.
 
He longed to kiss her but
his mind was on the hunt, on stalking the animals, so he didn’t.
 
If he’d truly wanted to do it the old way, he
wouldn’t have brought Anne along but he wanted to share the experience and make
a memory to savor, something to succor him as much as possible if his life
returned to emptiness. “Let’s go,” he told her.

They
set out in tandem, but Ned motioned her to follow once they advanced the first
twenty feet into the grasslands.
 
Despite
the chill, he enjoyed the wind rippling the tall grass and the sense of
purpose.
 
Although he didn’t see a single
buffalo, Ned inhaled hard.
 
He caught
their scent on the light breeze and he knew he’d be able to find them.
 
He wouldn’t be tracking by smell alone.
 
His inner senses resonated and he could see
the animals, the herd grazing as one with his mind, not with his eyes.
 
“They’re a little northwest of here,” he told
Anne. “C’mon.”

She
raised her hand to shield her eyes against the wind. “How far?”

“Half
a mile, maybe more.”

Clouds
scudded in from the west, thick and heavy.
 
As they advanced, patterns of light and dark played over the open land
but within minutes, the sun vanished behind their bulk.
  
Temperatures began to drop and Ned, despite
his hardened warrior’s skin, shivered a little.
 
By the time they reached the herd light sleet fell and made the ground
slippery underfoot.
 
Ned slowed his step
and indicated with silent gestures Anne should do the same.
 
She took the hint and halted behind him.
 
Her soft gasp of wonder matched the way he
felt every time he saw
tasiwoo
grazing free in their native
habitat.
 
He’d existed long enough to
have watched the animals become almost extinct and to see them return to the
prairies again.

“Oh,
Ned,” she breathed. “They’re spectacular up close. What now?”

He
couldn’t help but grin. “We get as close as we can but be careful.
 
If we spook them, they’ll scatter and
run.
 
And if I tell you to get back, do
it.
 
You could get trampled or gored,
which would be worse.
 
Both can be
fatal.”

Anne’s
response surprised him.
 
He’d expected a
frown but she smiled with eyes bright with eager anticipation.
 
She wore an expression he knew all too well,
a devil-may-care, reckless look.
 
Ned
remembered it from the faces of warriors heading into battle or hunters moving
in for the kill.
 
He’d often known the
same intoxication, drunk on danger.
 
“But
it’s exciting, too.”

She’d
never seen someone you called friend or brother bleeding out into the grass or
watched them die in agony.
 
Ned had, but
he excused her.
 
Anne’s era lacked the
violence, the sudden death, or the trauma his had possessed.
 
Accidents, death, gore all happened but not
with the same frequency. “Not really,” he said. “It’s the hunt, not the chance
of death. We can go a little closer if you’re quiet.”

They
crept in tandem toward the massive animals, their brown coats heavy for
winter.
 
Their rank animal scent filled
his nose, so familiar, it evoked memories.
 
Ned watched the animals…the huge bull, less than ten feet away.
 
Cows grazed and he spotted several yearling
calves, recognizable by their smaller size and lighter coats.
 
A few fall calves wandered among the buffalo
too.
 
He advanced with slow steps, Anne
at his side and stopped.
 
Any closer
would be folly.

“Look
at the smaller ones,” Anne cried. “Aren’t they cute?”

Ned
put one finger to his lips. “Hush.”

“The
adults are so huge,” she said. “Wow.
 
They stand head high on me, I think.
 
Look at those tails.”
 
She pointed
but he’d already seen the way their tails twitched as they grazed or
walked.
 
At the sound of her voice, some
of the animals shifted with agitation.
 

Farther
out, a few buffalo began moving.
 
Ned
knew the herd would follow within moments. “Step back,” he told her in a low
but non-nonsense voice. “And be quiet or they may stampede.”

She
dropped her voice down but kept talking. “Are they as soft as the robes?”

“Anne,”
he said in warning.
 
If she didn’t stop,
he’d have to carry her back the way they’d come. At any moment, the herd could
bolt and they could turn toward them.
 
He’d rather not dodge running buffalo.
 
“Let’s back up a little.”

As
he spoke, one of the yearlings wandered in their direction.
 
A smaller one trailed after it and bawled
loud.
 
Anne smiled and stepped forward
instead of retreating. “Oh, isn’t it sweet?” she gushed. “I’ve never been so
close to buffalo before.
 
I’ve seen them,
of course, but not like this, out among them.
 
Can I touch it?”

“Hell,
no, you can’t.” Ned reached to grab her before Anne moved any closer, but she
moved out of reach, hand outstretched toward the young buffalo.
 
The wind shifted and Ned watched the yearling
catch their scent.
 
It bolted back toward
the herd, now on the move, but the younger calf didn’t know any better.
 
Instead, it stood still with apparent
confusion and bawled again.
 

Anne
bolted toward it and petted the top of its head.
 
She giggled. “It
is
soft, Ned.”

He
heard the cow coming, the hooves pounding hard over the half frozen earth and
turned toward it.
 
It ran toward Anne,
nostrils steaming and lowered its head.
 

Anne
screamed and the calf ran, but the cow would attack her within moments.
 
Ned leapt forward and shoved her out of the
way.
 
His super-human strength served him
better than he’d expected.
 
Anne landed
five or six feet away and sat up.
 
She
wasn’t laughing now.
 
Her face turned
into a mask of horror and she screamed.
 
“Ned, Ned, it’s coming.
 
Hurry! Get
out of the way.”

If
he’d had time, he might’ve made it, but as he heard Anne’s outcry Ned stared
into the deep, dark eyes of the enraged mother buffalo.
 
Beneath his feet the ground trembled and
although he turned, made an effort to avoid the creature, the buffalo tossed
her mighty head and gored him with one horn.
 
Burning pain seared through his gut and blood gushed from the tear.
 
The cow tossed him several feet then moved in
for another slash.
 
Until he heard the
shotgun blast, Ned had forgotten Anne carried it and at the sound the buffalo
turned away from him.

Ned
hurt too much to watch it go toward the calf.
 
He sprawled on the earth.
 
The
copper-tinged scent of blood reeked and when he managed to lift his hand into
his line of vision, he saw scarlet.
 
His
vision dimmed but he heard Anne’s frantic shrieks as she dropped down beside
him.

“Oh,
my God,” she cried. “Ned, oh, God, I need to get you to the hospital.
 
You’re bleeding so much.
 
Hang on, please.”

He
made an effort to sit up but it came too soon and he failed.
 
Ned groaned. If he’d been mortal, he would’ve
died already.
 
“I’ll be okay,” he
grunted, the words hard to form and spit out. “Give me a few minutes.”

Anne
wept as Ned raised his head high enough to see the damage.
 
Crimson blood oozed from his torn belly and
his intestines were visible.
 
From this
angle they reminded him of tan worms or thick-bodied snakes, a thought that might’ve
been amusing if he didn’t hurt so much.
 
Ned had almost forgotten how harsh pain could be but what surprised him
more was the amount of blood he leaked.
 
He hadn’t thought he had this much volume and despite his momentary weak
dizziness, he knew he’d need blood as soon as he healed.

She
moved his braid out of the puddle of blood. “Lie still,” she told him through
her sobs. “I’ll see if I can get a signal and call 911. Maybe they can send a
life flight helicopter.
 
You’ll die if
you don’t get help soon and it’s my fault.”

“Honey,
I’ll be fine,” he said through gritted teeth although the pain had begun to
recede.
 
“I’m immortal.
 
I can’t die and I won’t.
 
If you’ll calm down and wait, you’ll see.
 
I’m starting to heal already.”

“Sweetheart,
you’re talking out of your head and no wonder.
 
You’re badly injured. Let me try to call.”
 

She
pulled out her phone from a pocket and before she could dial, Ned summoned up
enough strength to pluck it from her hand.
 
Anne stared at him, tears pouring down her cheeks. “Don’t call,” he
said. “If you get someone out here, I’ll never be able to explain and they’ll
think you were crazy.
 
I feel better
already.”