“Payin’ a visit, are you?” Solomon Cain asked merrily.
Flying Hawk spun and went to lift his bow, a futile act since all Cain had to do was twitch a forefinger and the Ute would receive a ball in the chest or head. Nate, out of the corner of his eye, saw the warrior spin, and flicked out his hand to stop the bow from rising. Flying Hawk glared at him and tried to tear the bow loose, then froze when Cain spoke sternly in the Ute tongue. Hissing like an enraged viper, the Ute removed his fingers from the bow and held his hands aloft.
“Sensible cuss, ain’t he?” Cain addressed Nate in English. “Now why don’t you do the same with your guns and such or I’ll be obliged to put some lead into your system.”
With the twin barrels of those pistols fixed on his person, there was nothing else Nate could do but ease his weapons to the ground.
“Now stand and step out of temptation’s reach,” Cain ordered, and issued a similar statement in the Ute language.
Side by side, Nate and Flying Hawk backed off.
“I must admit I am surprised,” Cain said, giving each of them a firm scrutiny. “I never expected you two dunderheads to ever find me.” He jumped from the top of the wash and landed lightly on the balls of his feet, his pistols swiveling to cover them as he dropped.
“You stole my horse, you son of a bitch,” Nate growled, more so because he was mad at himself for blundering into Cain’s grasp than anything else.
“And a nice horse it is,” Cain responded blithely. “Didn’t give me a lick of trouble until I came through the ravine. Then it acted up considerably. I guess it wanted to go back to you, but I got it here anyway.”
“Too bad Pegasus didn’t throw you off and bust your head wide open.”
“My, you are in a feisty mood today,” Cain quipped, then transferred his attention to Flying Hawk and spoke in Ute. The warrior, flushing crimson, clenched his fists.
“For a fierce Ute he sure has a soft hide,” Cain said, and laughed. “All I did was tell him how pretty I think his sister is.”
Nate debated whether to try and reach Cain before the man could fire and had to face the truth. He’d be shot down before he took three steps. A distraction was called for. But what? “You may have us,” he mentioned when an idea occurred to him, “but the others will get you. There are ten more Utes about a mile behind us. You won’t stand a prayer.”
“Is that the best you can do?” Cain retorted. “I happened to be up on the rise when I spotted the two of you. And do you know what? I watched and watched and never saw anyone else. How naughty of you to lie like that, King.”
Thwarted, Nate struggled to remain calm, to not let his anger at being captured gain the upper hand. Only by doing so would he be ready to make his move if an opportunity presented itself. For the time being there was no denying they were completely at Cain’s mercy, which meant they might not have long to live. For lack of anything better to do, he elected to try a risky bluff. Putting a grin on his face, he said, “Do you really think the Utes would give themselves away? I thought you knew more about Indians than that.”
A hint of uncertainty crept into Cain’s eyes.
“Go ahead and shoot,” Nate blustered. “They’ll hear the shot and come on the run.”
“You’re lyin’ through your teeth.”
“Am I? Are you absolutely sure?”
No, Cain wasn’t, and his expression conveyed as much. Turning slightly, he shot a glance over his shoulder, then regarded Nate in annoyance. “I ain’t goin’ to buy your story, King. Not even a little bit.” He wagged his pistols. “But I’m not one to play the odds when the stakes are so high. We’ll wait and see if more Utes show. If they don’t, you and I are goin’ to do some chawin’ about what happens to them who lie to me.”
“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black,” Nate taunted.
Solomon Cain motioned with the flintlocks. “I want the two of you to start walkin’ to my cave. Walk slow and keep your arms where I can see ’em. If you don’t, I can guarantee you’ll be sorry.” He looked at Flying Hawk and repeated his instructions in the Ute’s tongue.
If ever two men were the picture of depression, it had to be Nate and the warrior as they hiked along the wash until it ended, and then climbed out and made for Cain’s hideaway. Nate wished he could plant a foot on his own backside for being so careless. He’d acted like a greenhorn and paid the price for his folly. But all was not lost. He’d bought them some time by instilling doubt in Cain about the possible presence of more Utes. Until Cain became convinced the two of them were indeed alone, they were safe unless they gave him cause to shoot.
They had hardly cleared the top of the wash when Smoky Woman spotted them and squealed in delight. Like a doe she bounded toward them and hurled herself into her brother’s arms.
Nate halted when Flying Hawk did. He watched the two warmly embrace and heard them exchange a few urgent words. Smoky Woman then glanced at Cain and spoke some more. Cain replied curtly. At that moment Nate would have given anything to be fluent in the Ute tongue. He knew a few words from the time he hooked up with Two Owls, but nowhere near enough to conduct a conversation. For lack of anything else to do, he studied the woman indirectly responsible for their dilemma.
The beauty of youth animated her finely chiseled features. Her eyes were a soft brown, her complexion as smooth as a baby’s with nary a wrinkle marring her skin. Her full lips were a tantalizing cherry color, while her full bosom swelled with each breath she took. She was a living work of art, and Nate had no difficulty understanding what Cain saw in her and why Cain had abducted her. If nothing else, the bastard had excellent taste in women. She appeared to be quite upset at her brother being held at gunpoint, but all her arguments were apparently wasted on Cain.
Nate stared at the cave as they neared it. The heady odor of simmering venison filled the air, and he saw that Smoky Woman had stew going. Pegasus, spying Nate, tried to come over, only to be stopped short by the rope. Just inside the cave, piled against the wall, were saddles, parfleches, blankets, and other provisions. “Looks like you plan to be here a spell,” he commented.
“Another month or two should do me,” Cain responded.
“What then?”
“I go back to St. Louis and buy the biggest mansion there is. The rest of my born days are goin’ to be lived in the lap of luxury. Fine food. Fancy clothes. Expensive carriages. You name it, I’ll own it.”
“It costs a lot of money to do all that,” Nate observed.
“I’ll have something better than money.”
“Such as?”
Cain cackled, or started to, his laugh abruptly changing to a strangled grunt. He stopped for a second, astonishment plain on his face, then he cackled again, only louder. “Why didn’t I think of this before?” he declared.
“Think of what?” Nate asked as he came to the fire and turned.
“You’ll see soon enough. You and this poor excuse for an Injun,” Cain said.
The undisguised contempt in the man’s tone troubled Nate, and he looked at Smoky Woman. Arm in arm with her brother, she was speaking so softly the words were nearly inaudible.
“I want both of you to get on your knees and put your hands behind your backs,” Cain commanded, then repeated, yet again, the same instruction in the Ute language.
Sighing in reservation, Nate obeyed, but as he swung his hands around he dragged his left hand along the ground and scooped up a small handful of loose dirt. Then he set himself and waited. Once Cain stepped close enough, he was going to hurl the dirt in the polecat’s face and tackle him, come what may.
Flying Hawk refused to kneel. Folding his arms, he stood immobile, his chin jutting proudly, and glared at Cain as if daring Cain to do something.
Cain did. Addressing Smoky Woman in Ute, he took a couple of paces toward her, then abruptly shifted, took a single long bound, and slammed his right flintlock against Flying Hawk’s temple. The warrior crumpled. In a burst of sheer savagery, Cain struck the Ute two more times, and would have gone on doing so had not Smoky Woman leaped to her brother’s defense and seized hold of Cain’s arm.
Nate began to rise, thinking he could pounce before Cain knew what hit him, but the wily Cain spun and extended his free arm, pointing the other pistol straight at Nate’s face. Although Nate was boiling like a teapot about to bubble over, he had no choice but to sink back down.
Cain suddenly shook Smoky Woman off and raised his hand as if to cuff her. He was fury incarnate, yet at the last instant he caught himself and slowly lowered his arm to his side. Then he said something to her, something that caused her to bow her head in apparent guilt. Pivoting, she entered the cave, going to the wall where their supplies were piled.
What hold, Nate wondered, did Solomon Cain have over the young woman? Why did she meekly submit when the life of her own brother was in jeopardy? Intuition told him there was more going on here than met the eye.
When Smoky Woman returned she was carrying a coiled rope and a hunting knife. Walking up to Nate, she unwound a length of rope and cut it off. Then she moved behind him.
This was not what Nate had expected. He’d counted on Cain doing the tying. Throwing the dirt in Smoky Woman’s face would accomplish nothing, and Cain wasn’t quite close enough. Maybe he could remedy that. “Do you always let a woman do all your work for you?” he asked sarcastically.
Cain made a clucking noise. “You must figure I’m a greenhorn, King. I ain’t about to get near enough for you to jump me, so forget any hare-brained notions you have. Just go along with what I want and you might live to see that wife and kid you were tellin’ me about.”
Nate felt his wrists being encircled by loops of rope. “This is so senseless,” he remarked. “All I want is my horse, and all Flying Hawk wants is his sister. If you leave her here and ride off, right now, we’ll let you go in peace.”
“You never stop tryin’, do you?” Cain said. “As for your offer, I know better. Flying Hawk ain’t the forgivin’ kind. Neither, I suspect, are you when it comes to havin’ your horse stolen. If I was to ride off, one or both of you would be on my trail before the dust settled. No, thanks.” Grinning, he wagged both flintlocks. “We’ll keep things the way they are.”
Nate shrugged. “I gave you a chance. It’s up to you whether you live or die.” He gazed at the rise. “I just hope those Utes show up soon.”
The reminder had the desired effect. Cain stiffened and half turned to survey the area.
Smoky Woman finished tying Nate’s wrists, then bound his ankles. Rising, she took two steps toward her brother. Cain snapped at her and jabbed a flintlock at Nate.
This time it was easy to guess what had been said. Nate saw Smoky Woman flush crimson, then she moved back around him and knelt. He could feel her working at the rope, loosening the knots, but only so she could bind him much tighter than before, so tight the rope bit into his skin. Cain, Nate deduced, had been afraid she wouldn’t do a proper job. Perhaps Cain reasoned she might deliberately leave enough slack for them to eventually slip free. Now they wouldn’t be able to. The man, evidently, always thought of everything.
Dejected, Nate watched the woman tie her brother. Flying Hawk groaned when she gently touched him. A tear formed in the corner of her eye, yet she made no move to brush it away until the deed was done. Rising, she took the knife and the remainder of the rope into the cave.
“I’m goin’ to leave you in her capable hands while I go have a look-see for these Utes you keep talkin’ about,” Cain said. “But don’t do anything stupid ’cause I’m pickin’ up your weapons on the way. That includes your fine Hawken. If you move from that spot, I’ll shoot you with your own gun. And believe me when I say I’m a tolerable shot with a rifle.”
Nate believed him. Frontiersmen, by virtue of necessity, had to become adept. Those who couldn’t shoot straight seldom survived run-ins with hostiles and were hard-pressed to fill their bellies. So Cain’s threat was no idle boast, especially since a Hawken was one of the most accurate guns ever made. Some trappers liked to joke that a Hawken was so good it aimed itself.
Cain wedged his pistols under his belt and commented, “Don’t look so glum, King. You’re still alive, which ought to count for something.”
Watching the man hasten off, Nate speculated on Cain’s purpose in holding them as prisoners. There was no rhyme or reason to it that he could see. Cain would have to keep his eyes on them the whole time, knowing full well if one of them broke loose he was a dead man. Not that Nate was complaining. So long as he lived he would continually try to escape.
Shortly Flying Hawk revived with a start and sat up. He looked around, spotted Cain, then rotated on his backside and spoke harshly to his sister, going on at some length. Smoky Woman listened with her chin lowered. Twice she gave one-word replies. When, after a while, Flying Hawk gestured with his bound arms for her to cut him loose, she mumbled a few words, rose and hurried inside, leaving her brother to gape in disbelief.
Nate sadly shook his head. How strange Fate could be! he reflected. What cruel jokes it played! Here he was, held prisoner by a white man he had befriended, in the company of an Indian who hated all whites and had put an arrow into him, while the Indian’s sister, who they had come to rescue and who could free them then and there if she wanted, refused to help. He would have laughed if he wasn’t feeling so miserable.
The Ute, sliding his legs under him, began to rise.
Nate looked and realized Cain had disappeared into the wash. Flying Hawk probably thought it was safe for him to stand. But Cain might reappear at any instant, and if the warrior was on his feet Cain would undoubtedly shoot him. Nate shook his head and started to warn Flying Hawk about Cain’s threat. The next second, though, Smoky Woman practically flew from the cave and pushed her brother down again.
Irate, Flying Hawk barked at her and she responded in kind. Again the warrior attempted to rise. Again she shoved him back.
So engrossed did Nate become in their bickering that he failed to see Cain emerge from the wash. When next he glanced in that direction he was surprised to find Cain a third of the way up the rise. “Hey!” Nate said to get the attention of the Utes. When he had it, he bobbed his head at Cain, certain once Flying Hawk saw Cain with a rifle he would know not to stand up.
The warrior appeared on the verge of throwing a fit. Instead, he verbally lashed his sister, bringing moisture to both of her eyes. Wheeling, she walked off, over to the horses, and stood with her back to her brother.
Nate knew Flying Hawk blamed Smoky Woman for foiling his escape, when in reality she had saved his life.
The last thing they needed was to antagonize her. But he was helpless to change the situation since he had no way of communicating with his hands tied.
So he sat and brooded. He saw Cain reach the top of the rise and hunker down at a vantage point that afforded a bird’s-eye view of the cave and them. The man then had the brazen gall to smile and give a cheery wave.
It was hot there, under the blistering sun, and Nate sweated freely. He looked longingly at the pool and licked his lips. As the minutes dragged by it occurred to him that Cain might stay up there for a long time to be absolutely certain there were no other Utes around. He glanced at Smoky Woman and said, “Pardon me, but could you fetch me a some water to drink?”
She stood like a statue, unhearing, too upset over her clash with her brother to care about anything else.
Nate had to think a bit before he recollected the Ute word for hello. He now tried that, but she still didn’t budge. Again he said it, louder this time, almost shouting.
At last Smoky Woman glanced around to regard him quizzically.
Smiling his friendliest smile, Nate indicated the pool and made a show of swallowing in great gulps. She understood right away. Going into the cave, she returned bearing a large tin cup which she filled and brought over. But not to Nate. First she stopped beside her brother and held the cup close to his mouth.
Flying Hawk deliberately turned his face away.
Her slender shoulders sagging, Smoky Woman stepped to Nate’s side and touched the cool tin to his lips.
Nate drank gratefully, draining the entire cup. Some of the water spilled over the brim, across his chin, and down his neck, providing additional relief. When he was done, he beamed and absently said in English, “Thank you.”
“You welcome,” Smoky Woman replied softly.
Surprise made Nate gape. Then he realized she had been with Cain for four months. It was inevitable she would have picked up some of the language in that time. “You are very kind,” he said quickly as she turned to go. “This all must be very hard on you.”
“Yes,” she said, staring morosely into the empty cup.
Nate didn’t want her to leave. If he could get her talking, if he could befriend her, she might become an ally in his campaign to free himself. And too, he might be able to learn what Cain was up to, which she must know. So when she took a step, he blurted out, “Wait! Please!”
Smoky Woman paused, then faced him.
“I am sorry your brother is so mad at you. He doesn’t know that you were saving his life. But I do. And I admire you for it. If I spoke enough of your tongue I’d tell him, but I know very little.”
“I know little English,” Smoky Woman said, pronouncing the last word “Ainlish.”
“You do right fine,” Nate complemented her. “My tongue isn’t easy to learn.” His racing mind hit on a way to solicit her sympathy. “My wife speaks it fluently, but then she’s got more brains in her little finger than I do in my whole body.”
“You have wife?” Smoky Woman asked as if deeply disturbed by the news.
“A wife and a fine young son,” Nate disclosed. “I love them both with all my heart, and I surely do hope I get to see them again.”
Her sadness intensified. “What your name?”
“Nate King. Or you can call me Grizzly Killer.”
“Why you here?”
“I came to help your brother save you. Flying Hawk must love you as much as I do my wife because he has never stopped hunting for you. He’s never given up hope. The whole time you’ve been with Cain, your brother and his friends have been scouring the countryside.”
She pursed her lips and surreptitiously looked at the warrior. “We close. He good man.”
Here was an opening Nate thought he could exploit. “And Solomon Cain? Is he a good man?”
Smoky Woman’s face darkened ominously. “Not talk about him.”
“I’m sorry. Don’t be upset. I didn’t know you cared for him. Flying Hawk led me to believe Cain took you against your will, and I just naturally figured you wouldn’t like him much.”
“Not talk about Cain!”
Nate was shocked at how upset she was. He’d inadvertently angered her, and the fragile bridge of friendship he was trying to build threatened to collapse around his ears. “Again, I’m truly sorry,” he said quickly, frantically seeking another subject to talk about. The mouthwatering aroma from the stew gave him inspiration. “Please forgive me,” he said, and grinned. “I need to stay in your good graces so you’ll give me some of that stew of yours. It smells delicious.”
She stared into the cup again.
“Your cooking reminds me of my wife’s,” Nate went on. “She can turn a pot of water and meat into the tastiest concoction this side of Heaven. Some women have the knack, I guess. Me, I’m happy if I cook a meal where half the food isn’t burned.”
His humor was wasted on her. Frowning, she lowered the cup and glanced at the cave.
“How far back does that go?” Nate inquired before she could leave.
“Far.”
“It must be a bit dank and dreary in there,” Nate mentioned. “Caves are fit for bats and vermin, not people. I bet it’s nothing at all like living in a lodge, is it?”
“It all right. Keep us dry when rain, warm when night.”
“Well, bears seem to put great store by caves, so I suppose living in one does have its advantages,” Nate commented.
“People live here. Many winters ago.”
“What’s that?” Nate responded, unsure whether he comprehended. “Do you mean other people have lived in this same cave?”
“Yes. They paint walls. Paint buffalo. Paint other things.”
“I’d like to see for myself,” Nate said, genuinely interested. He’d heard rumors of trappers occasionally finding evidence of an unknown people who had lived in the land long, long ago, but he had yet to see any evidence for himself. Adding to the mystery, some Indian tribes claimed their ancestors had encountered strange people back in the dawn of antiquity, back in the earliest days of remembered Indian history, which was passed down from generation to generation by word of mouth. These mysterious ancient ones had resented the inroads of the Indians and been exterminated in ruthless warfare. Or so the tales went. He was going to ask about the cave paintings when he heard the crunch of footsteps and he looked over his shoulder to see a grim Solomon Cain approaching.