For the rest of the evening the Lost Causes rode through the winter chill, wandering along the path that Achilles cut through the snow. They made their way through a labyrinth of thick firs, always tending toward the north. With each passing hour the massive summit in the distance seemed to grow, swallowing the horizon inch by inch.
Quinn craned his head back to regard the peak. “How can anything be that tall?”
Duck said, “Night’s approaching. We’ll need to set camp soon.”
Just then Achilles unleashed a series of excited yips and danced back and forth in the tall snow. He took off running around a short bend in the trail.
“What was that all about?” Quinn asked.
“I hope it means we’re close,” Strong Heart said.
The young riders trotted after the barking hound. As they rounded a foothill, the heavy clusters of fir opened into a clearing, a sweeping meadow filled with rows of tiny green saplings. Snow dusted the pyramid tops of the infant trees. On the far end of the clearing, an icy river burbled down the twisting canyon, infiltrating one corner of the field.
Duck gazed across the white-and-green meadow. “What a lonesome place.”
“Lonesome, sure, but something is odd with these evergreens.” Quinn pointed to the saplings. “The rows are straight. Somebody made them that way.”
“They were planted not long ago,” Strong Heart said.
“I bet the trapper planted them,” Duck responded. “But why place a bunch of trees in the middle of nowhere?”
Studying the saplings, Keech didn’t like the way the mountain breeze ruffled them, making the trees writhe the way a critter might squirm if held down by strong hands. “Something doesn’t seem right. Those baby trees have a strange way about them.”
A volley of emphatic barks interrupted him as Achilles weaved through the saplings, occasionally peering back to beckon them on. The dog dodged every limb as though he didn’t want to graze them.
“This may sound strange, but I don’t think we should touch those trees,” Keech said.
As their horses stepped into the meadow, the thunderous crack of a rifle rattled the countryside. The lead ball pinged off a sandstone boulder. The animals jolted back, and the young riders ducked low.
Keech dared a quick look around. “I can’t see where the shooter’s hiding.”
They waited stock-still at the edge of the clearing. Quinn grumbled, “Maybe it was just a hunter off his mark.” He prodded Lightnin’ forward.
A second rumble of gunfire filled the meadow, and Quinn shuffled back.
Duck pulled out her spyglass and studied the field. She locked the glass on a particular point, frowned, then handed the contraption to Keech. “Take a look.”
Through the foggy lens, he spotted the trapper McCarty. Or rather, the Enforcer O’Brien. She was poised on a pine tree stump, reloading an old Kentucky long rifle, Achilles by her side. Her batwing chaps flapped against her thighs, and the wind blew heavily against the black hat she wore.
“It’s her,” Keech said. He handed the spyglass back to Duck. “She’s about two hundred yards out. She could hit us if she wanted.”
Quinn frowned. “She means to scare us off.”
“If this woman was an Enforcer, then she’ll be protective of her secrets,” Strong Heart said.
True. If O’Brien was guarding her knowledge, she might be willing to blast them off their saddles before they could make it through the meadow.
Duck said, “We’re gonna have to chance it. This woman is vital to our mission. We have to persuade her.”
“I’ll go,” Strong Heart said. “I don’t believe she will harm us.” Without waiting for the others, she spoke an Osage command to her pony, and Flower Hunter stepped into the meadow. After a mere three paces, another deafening gunshot split the air—but neither the Protector nor her pony flinched. They trotted into the rows of wriggling baby evergreens and weaved an eastern path toward the woman. At one point Strong Heart’s face wrinkled with distress, as if she smelled something foul.
“What’s wrong?” asked Duck.
“Keech was right. Something is strange here. The air inside the meadow feels wrong, sour and thick. Follow me carefully.”
A terrible smell assaulted Keech’s nostrils as the group trailed Strong Heart. A bitter fragrance hung over the meadow as if the evergreen saplings were emanating poisonous fumes, curdling the mountain air.
“I don’t like this place,” murmured Duck.
“Just keep riding.” Keech shifted his attention to the saplings. They seemed to move of their own volition. They were not windblown, but writhing, as if reaching for his legs.
He surveyed the meadow more closely, and another sense of déjà vu surfaced on the heels of this terrible dread, just as had happened at the cave.
Step by step they crossed the sapling field, till a fourth rifle shot boomed—a wide shot, intentionally off target.
The Enforcer bellowed at them: “Go away!”
“No!” Strong Heart shouted.
The voice called again: “I’ll kill ya! Don’t think I won’t!”
“Well, stop your threatening, and get on with it!” yelled Quinn.
O’Brien set to reloading her rifle.
Keech considered using a phrase from Doyle’s journal to stop O’Brien from shooting at them. The Ranger’s writing had spoken of a special means to render armed opponents harmless. The Black Verse indicates a way to disarm without bloodshed, Doyle had written. Use the phrase: M’gah-ge-hye’thn, translated to mean, “Stop your attack.”
Visualizing the dark words, Keech opened his mouth to turn them loose.
Before he could speak, O’Brien fired again. A lead ball skimmed the cantle of Keech’s saddle, a mere inch from his rear end. Hector stumbled back a step, and with a squeal, the stallion reared up on his hind legs.
Unprepared for the sudden lurch, Keech tugged at the reins, forcing Hector to careen sideways. The horse’s movement pitched Keech right off the saddle. He tumbled onto one of the squirming evergreen saplings. The impact was painful, but worse was the pernicious fumes boiling up from the ground. The sick stench infiltrated his nose.
A tornado of emotions—hatred, fear, regret, and most of all fury—engulfed Keech. All the emotions that Pa Abner had taught him never to allow inside his heart now choked him. Desperate fury surged through his mind. Without understanding why, he wanted to destroy everything in his path, leaving nothing untouched. His entire world drowned in a sea of rage.