Jack Slade, page 6
He pointed to a stack of dry twigs and branches. “Pull some of those branches and kindling over, and pile them under the pot, then use the matches to light it. It’ll take a while for the stew to heat, so we might as well get started.”
Then he squatted on a flat rock on the other side of the ring, rifle pointed at Slade, and watched him build the fire with unblinking gaze.
As Slade touched a lighted match to the kindling, he spoke. “Do you mind if I ask a question?”
“As long as it’s not a stupid question.”
Slade grinned. “Stupid or not, I’m puzzled. If you had me in your sights ever since I stepped out of the truck, why am I still alive? You could have killed me at any time, and you wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not worried about you. But the fact is, I’m not a murderer.”
Slade was occupied with rearranging some of the branches under the pot. At Johnny’s comment, he stopped and gazed at him, black brows arched sardonically. “Seriously?”
“Do you know what those four white men did to my sister?”
Slade sat back on the rock and stared seriously at the other. “I could actually give you a pass for those killings. I do know what they did to your sister, and I do know you weren’t able to get justice from the white man’s system. But I can’t give you a pass for murdering that Sioux hunter.”
Running Wolf’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t want to do that. Believe it or not, I haven’t gone crazy up here. He stumbled onto my cave. He was going to alert the others. I had no choice. But don’t think I liked it.”
“Then I come back to the same question: why am I still alive? I also know about your cave.”
Johnny studied him for a long moment, looking into him more than at him. When he spoke, his voice was pensive. “You’re not like the others. If you were, Soaring Eagle wouldn’t have brought you here. The three of us are much alike. We’re warriors. We travel in vision. We have our feet planted in two different worlds, which makes it hard for us to function in this world.”
“Soaring Eagle told me that you possess great power. I felt it the other day when I watched you in vision. But let’s not forget that Soaring Eagle brought me here to put you down. I’m not convinced he thinks we’re all so much alike.”
Sadness deepened the lines etching the other’s face. “It grieves me more than I can say that I’ve disappointed the old man.” His gaze sharpened. “I have a question for you. When I watched you the other day, I could tell that you’d discovered this cave…and knew that I was in it. Why didn’t you tell the others?”
“Because I didn’t want to endanger anyone else’s life. It doesn’t matter how many hunters there are or how well armed. If you shape shift into a wolf, they won’t be able to kill you, and you’d tear through them like a hot knife through butter.” His eyes went flat, and his mouth narrowed to a grim line. “There’s only one man who can stand against you. Only one man who can meet you on your own ground.”
“You.”
“Me.”
“How can you be so stupid? You just eliminated any reason I had to let you live.”
The two men stared into each other’s eyes for a long time. The silence was so intense that the crackling of the flames sounded as loud as pistol shots.
“You said that we’re both warriors,” Slade grunted finally.
“Yeah.”
“Then I challenge you to meet me, in your wolf form, in a battle to the death.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll shift into my totem animal.”
“Which is?”
“Black Jaguar.”
The other sneered. “I’d rip you to shreds!”
“Maybe. Let’s see.”
Instead of answering, Johnny glanced into the pot. The stew was beginning to bubble. “Pick up that spoon with your left hand,” he said, “and stir the stew. I don’t want it sticking to the bottom of the pot.”
Slade picked up a wooden spoon lying on a rock and stirred the stew. The rich aroma made his mouth water, and he realized that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Glancing out the mouth of the cave, he noted that the sun was sinking in the west. Shadows cloaked that part of the mountain.
Running Wolf rose, went to the bags of supplies against the wall, returned with two wooden bowls, and handed them to Slade. “Fill them up. Let’s eat while we decide what to do.”
As Slade handed him a bowl of steaming stew, he said, “Put the rifle down. Relax and eat. I give you my word that I won’t attack you or try to escape until we come to a decision.”
Johnny studied his face, then he nodded and leaned the rifle against the wall of the cavern. He reached into his belt, pulled out Slade’s automatic and handed it to him across the fire, butt first. Slade took it without speaking, slid it into the holster, then dipped a spoon gratefully into the stew and began eating.
When they finished eating, Slade set his bowl aside, looked out of the cave and saw that night had fallen. The crickets in the bushes clustered around the crag’s base chirped so loudly that he would swear an orchestra serenaded them. The red disk of the moon was just lifting above the mountains and cast a crimson haze over the treetops, creating the grisly impression that the waving branches dripped with blood.
He glanced across the fire at Johnny Tall Trees. He was putting his bowl aside, and, in the same movement, he picked up his rifle and swung it around until it pointed at Slade’s chest.
If Slade went for his gun, he’d be blown apart. He stared questioningly at the other.
Johnny shrugged. “I don’t want to fight you today, white man. There’s no question we’ll meet, but not tonight. We have eaten together and called a truce. Let’s leave it at that for now.” He pointed with his chin toward the entrance. “Go. When you reach the bottom of the crag, veer right, and you’ll find a trail that will lead you back to the road where you parked your truck.”
Slade shook his head. “If I leave, you’ll just kill again.”
“You gave me your word, and I believed you. Believe me now when I say that I will not kill again until we meet. Then I will kill you and go my way. If you force me to, I’ll kill you right now.” He pointed again to the cave entrance. “Please go. When the moon is full, we will meet. But I’ll choose the time and the place.”
6
It was ten o’clock when Slade pulled the pickup truck into the carport beside Soaring Eagle’s house. The lights were on in the house, making it easy for him to find his way over the dirt path to the front door. He paused, however, when he saw Joe sitting in an old wooden rocking chair in a shadowed corner of the porch. His grey hair shimmered in the diffused light, creating a halo around his head, and his black eyes gleamed in the darkness like glowing coals.
The boards creaked as Slade stepped over to him and extended his hand. “Here are the keys,” he said. “I stopped at the gas station and filled the tank on my way back.”
Joe took the keys and dropped them into his shirt pocket. “You saw Running Wolf.”
“Yeah.” Slade grunted with disgust. “He got the drop on me, so there wasn’t much I could do. We went to his lair, had dinner, and called a truce. He said we’d meet again at the full moon and decide our differences then.”
“The moon will be full in two days.”
“Yes.”
Joe stood up and stretched, causing his joints to crack. “It’s a beautiful night. Let’s take a walk.”
He stepped down from the porch and started around the house, and Slade followed. A path led into the forest and up the slope of the mountain. The moon was riding high in the sky, but the light barely penetrated the thick branches overhanging the trail. Slade oriented himself on the grey hair of the old man bobbing like a lantern in the shadows ahead. They climbed in silence for about half an hour. Then the trail fell away on the right, and Slade looked out on a narrow winding valley nestled between the steep forested slopes of two mountains. A stream meandered along the bottom, reflecting the moonlight like a silver ribbon.
He stood still, his hands hanging at his sides, and gazed over the scene without focusing on anything in particular, just allowing the deep peace that saturated the valley to penetrate all the way to his bones. He sensed rather than saw or heard a few errant clouds drift across the moon. The scurry of night animals in the undergrowth behind him. A buck with a giant rack and three does dipping their muzzles into the creek below. The night wind moaning softly through the branches of the trees.
“These mountains were sacred to the Sioux in the old days,” Soaring Eagle said quietly. “This valley, and the mountains around it, is a power spot. The old shamans used to come here to renew their power. Young men came here to undergo their vision quest and become warriors.” He raised his arms above his head and spread his hands, as if he were grasping the moonlight. “On nights like this, when I come up here, I can still feel the power. It’s not as strong as in the old days, but it still charges the air.”
“There’s a humming, almost like electricity,” Slade murmured.
“The day of the Sioux is over,” said the old man, dropping his arms. “We cling as best we can to the old ways, but the power is gone—and it isn’t coming back.”
“Don’t feel all alone.” Slade’s wide mouth twisted in a rueful grin. “The whole world is going down. The power for this cycle has run its course. There’s nothing left to do but navigate—and try to survive—the ruins.”
Soaring Eagle looked up at Slade, his eyes glowing in the moonlight. “And like we Sioux, still clinging to a dead tradition, you fight on, even though you know the battle is already lost.”
Slade shrugged his broad shoulders. “I suppose someone has to fight the last battle. But I admit, getting up for that battle becomes more difficult every day.”
The old Indian nodded knowingly. “You walk the Warrior’s Way. It’s the warrior’s task to fight. Even against overwhelming odds. Even when the battle has been lost.” He gazed back over the valley, and sadness shadowed his eyes. “It’s the same with the Sioux. We’ve been crushed. Our traditions destroyed. Our land stolen. Our pride ground into the dust. But we fight on, even as the night rolls over us, because we know no other way.”
“Which reminds me. Johnny Tall Trees mentioned that the three of us are very much alike—we’re all warriors.”
Soaring Eagle sighed wistfully. “Johnny could have been great. He brought through tremendous power. It seems such a waste that he would end like this.”
“One thing I can say in his defense…he’s not maddened by blood lust. He told me that he only killed the Sioux hunter because he stumbled onto his hideout. He didn’t want to kill him, but he felt he had to in order to protect himself.”
The old man stared out over the valley for a long time, sorrow deepening the wrinkles covering his face. “It all comes out the same though, doesn’t it? He still turned himself into a criminal. Which means there is only one way this can end.”
“Actually…” Slade gave a hard chuckle. “...there are two ways this can end. I can kill him, or he can kill me. If he kills me, he’ll leave this part of the mountains and go off somewhere by himself.”
“You use silver bullets. They will work against Johnny in his wolf form. Why are you taking a chance? Why not just shoot him?”
Slade glanced at him in surprise. “I challenged him to a fight to the death—him in his wolf form against me shifted into my totem animal. To use my gun would break our pact. It would be the act of a coward. Such a thing is unthinkable.”
“You have seen him in his wolf form.”
“Yes.”
“It is far bigger and more ferocious than any normal wolf.”
“Yes.”
“You are taking a huge chance.”
“Yes.”
Soaring Eagle chuckled, a sound like the rustling of dry leaves. “Like I said, you are a warrior. You will always be a warrior. And you will die like a warrior.”
Slade pulled the Jaguar in behind Helen Elmwood’s car and cut the engine. A lamp glowed in the front window; otherwise, her house was dark and quiet. He glanced at his watch: one in the morning. He knew it was late, but he wanted to see her. If she refused to answer the door, it would serve him right. He had neglected to get her phone number the previous night, so he hadn’t been able to call ahead. He climbed out and closed the door. Above the continuous droning of the crickets, the night was still. An almost full moon glided serenely across the dark vault; the forest was a black sea of drifting shadows, treetops waving gently in the night wind.
He crossed the yard, stepped onto the front porch, and rapped softly on the door. A moment later, a cautious voice sounded from within.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, Slade.”
The door cracked open, and she peered out, a cross expression on her face. “Do you know how late it is? I waited all evening for you to call. When you didn’t, I decided you weren’t coming.”
Slade spread his hands deprecatingly. “You may remember that I didn’t get your phone number yesterday, so I couldn’t call ahead. I spent most of the day and into the evening in the mountains, and the later evening with Soaring Eagle. I’m sorry for not getting your phone number, and I’m sorry for getting here so late. But it’s the earliest I could get away. I’ll understand if you’d prefer that I leave, but give me your phone number, and I’ll call tomorrow.”
As he spoke, her face softened, and she opened the door. She stood framed in the light, a flannel robe over her nightgown, fluffy slippers on her feet. Scrubbed of all makeup, her bronzed skin glowed in the lamplight. Her shimmering black hair hung down her back in a single braid. She gazed up at him with dark, luminous eyes that caught and reflected the moonlight like huge sapphires. She reached out to him with a small, slim hand.
“Well,” she said softly. “You’re here now, so you might as well come in.”
Slade grinned gratefully, stepped inside, and she closed and locked the door behind him. As she turned around, he swept her up in his arms and planted a long, deep kiss on her full lips. Her supple curves melted against his muscular frame, her slender arms curled around his neck, and she returned his kiss with scorching passion.
She pulled back, her smooth cheeks flushed, her dark eyes flaming. “My bedroom!” she gasped.
Holding her up with one arm, Slade bent and slipped his other arm beneath her knees, lifted her up, carried her into the bedroom, put her down on the floor and flipped on the lamp. As he shrugged out of his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, she kicked off her slippers, unbelted her robe and let it fall to the floor, then lifted her nightgown over her head and tossed it across the back of a chair. Having taken off his shoes and dropped his trousers around his ankles, Slade stopped and stared at her in fascination.
The soft light bathing her face and slender body accentuated refined features over delicate bone structure and caused her smooth skin to shimmer like burnished copper. Mysterious shadows played over firm breasts the size of ripe peaches, gently rounded stomach, slim hips, and long tapering legs. She stood for a moment longer, pleased with the effect she had on him, then she turned, threw back the covers and stretched out on the bed. She gazed at him with dark, flaming eyes that danced and flickered like huge gems. Her full red lips stretched in a sensuous smile.
“Are you going to stand there gaping at me all night, or are you going to come over here and make love to me?”
Slade’s response was a strangled croak as he kicked off his trousers, then dived onto the bed and into her waiting arms.
Stretched out on the rumpled sheets, loose and satisfied, Slade glanced at his watch: 3:00 am. He looked down at Helen, who dozed with her cheek against his shoulder. Her braid had come loose, and her long hair fanned out over her slender shoulders and supple back in a lustrous screen of black silk. A slim thigh rested over his leg. He ran his fingertips along it caressingly, amazed at the firm smoothness of her skin.
She moaned sleepily. “I can’t believe you still want more.”
“I don’t think it’d be possible to ever get enough of you,” Slade chuckled. “But no. I’m satisfied for the time being.”
She peered up at him, her dark eyes luminous in the lamplight. “You said that you spent the day up in the mountains. Does that mean you found the hideout of the killer?”
“Actually, I spent the afternoon and evening with him. We had dinner together in his lair.”
Startled, she raised up on an elbow and stared down at him. “Really? And you didn’t bring him in?”
“That’s easier said than done. The fact is, he got the drop on me. I’m lucky to still be alive.”
Slowly, she lowered down and rested her head against his shoulder. “Why didn’t he kill you?”
“For one thing, he said he’s not a murderer. For another, he believes that we’re a lot alike.”
“Do you think he’s right?”
“Actually, I don’t really blame him for killing the four white men who raped and murdered his sister. He tried to get justice from the system, and it failed him. What else was he supposed to do?”
She glanced up at him. “That means the killer is Johnny Tall Trees. I knew he was able to shape shift, but I thought, like the rest of the reservation, that he just disappeared into the mountains.” She paused, then asked, “You couldn’t see the identity of the killer in Crawford. Do you think it’s Johnny? Did you ask him about it?”
Faced once again with the question of revealing all he knew, Slade realized he’d made things more complicated by not revealing that there were two killers. Maybe this was one of those instances where his caution was misplaced. He decided to be frank. “All right,” he groaned. “I’m going to tell you all I know. But I’m asking you to keep this between you and me.”
She sat up, crossed her slim legs, hugged herself with her arms, and peered at him excitedly. “Tell me! Tell me!”
“There are two killers. Johnny killed the first four men, the murderers of his sister, and he killed the Native hunter. Someone else killed the other men. I believe the other killer used the same technique to throw the police off his trail.”
