Crows & Cards (24 page)

"Well, get 'em moving," Chilly shouted. "We ain't got all night."

So Ho-John handed off the lantern and waded into the brush, where he lifted the lead hound up in his arms gentle as a lamb and carried him back to the road. Setting the dog down, he gave him a slap on the rump. The hound took off baying, with the rest of the pack close on his heels. Ho-John rambled after them, remarkable fast for a man shackled by irons. Chilly brought up the rear, swaying the lantern from side to side, searching for sign while cursing a blue streak and trying to keep up.

I stayed way up that oak, trying to remember how to breathe. Once I got my lungs working, I tried backing down from my perch, 'cause it wouldn't be long before Chilly figured out they'd missed my track and come doubling back. Trouble was, I couldn't bring myself to let go of the tree trunk. The idea of climbing down churned me worse than going up had; the only thing I could sell myself on was jumping off all at once. 'Course, I might break a leg or arm, but that couldn't be any worse than staying put till Chilly doubled back, could it? I was still arguing with myself about that one when a whole new row broke out at the inn as a crowd pushed and shoved its way through the front door. There wasn't enough light to see much by, but I could hear Goose carrying on.

"Now hold on, now!" Goose shouted. "Not so fast now! Who elected you sheriff?"

The men answering him were facing away from me, so their voices didn't carry at all. Whatever they were shouting back sounded plenty hotted up though.

"And I say," Goose answered, "that this old redskin stays here till Chilly gets back."

That was when the grabbing and cussing started. There was yelling too, plenty of that, along with a bottle or two that got broke. Then came a gunshot. That got hold of everyone's ears real good and put the squabbling to rest.

Then one voice started laying down the law to all of them about something or other. I couldn't make out the words exactly, but you could tell by the tone that whoever was talking sounded like a judge or turnkey or constable or someone official.

"Ain't no good going to come of this," Goose warned, kind of whiny and defeated-like.

The man barking orders turned my way, and now I could hear him perfectly clear. "If it takes Chilly Larpenteur down a peg or two, that recommends it to me. You and Chilly keep this inn and give this blind old man the rest. That sounds fair enough, considering how you tried to cheat him."

It was the Professor talking, and there was a whole lot of agreeing from the crowd. Hardly anyone was bothering to tag along with Goose's view. Actually, I think he might have been entirely alone in the matter. I guess they were all plenty tired of Chilly's winning every time, especially now that they'd learned about the telegraph.

"You two better get going," the Professor advised.

A couple of people stepped away from the crowd, untied a pony from out front, and started down the road toward me. Goose tried to stop 'em till the Professor sicced a couple of men after him. Before long I saw it was the princess and the chief who were headed my way.

The oak where I was holed up had a large limb stretching out a mile or two above the road. Dropping down to my hands and knees, I summoned every wisp of courage I could manage and crawled along it, nearly losing my grip and plummeting to a pulpy death a half-dozen times at least. But I managed to hang on long enough to
pssst
as the pony passed beneath me.

They came to a stop, the princess searching around for me.

"Way up here," I whispered.

Looking upward, the princess said, "Excuse us, but we're running for our lives."

"What do you think I'm doing?" I groused, kind of tart-like.

"You can't run very far sitting in a tree," she pointed out.

But the chief cut us both off. "
Tsa ki ha!
"

Following that, the chief and princess gnawed at each other a short minute before the princess took a deep breath and said, "My father wants to know if you're done with his pouch."

"Not exactly."

"What else do you need it for?"

"To help me get out of here."

When the princess passed that on, the chief gave a quick answer back.

"Swing down and ride with him," the princess ordered. "So you won't leave a trail for the dogs."

"But you're headed right for Chilly," I said.

"Not for long," she told me.

I thought it over a tiny bit and didn't see as I had much choice in the matter.

"All right," I grumbled. "I'm coming down."

The princess walked the pony forward a step or two. Dying ten times over, I dangled myself off the branch till my toes could touch the horse's rump—maybe that limb wasn't so high up as I'd thought, though it was plenty high for my tastes. Laying one hand on the chief's shoulder for balance, I dropped down, feeling as though I was falling off the evening star.

And that's how I got away: on the back of a broken-down old Indian pony, hanging on to the shoulders of Chief Standing Tenbears while fighting off sneezes due to horsehair and war bonnet feathers that kept tickling my nose. Soon as I handed the chief his pouch, he started chanting a song that sounded happy as a basket full of larks.

CHAPTER THIRTY

W
E STUCK TO THE ROAD AROUND A CURVE
and up and down a dip, but then took to the woods on an old deer path. Narrow and grown over as that trail was, I never would have noticed it, not even come daylight, but the princess picked it out easy as one-two-three.

Not too long after that a clingy drizzle started falling. It fit my mood like a black glove, 'cause I couldn't quite shake the notion that Chilly would sooner or later track me down. And when I got tired of trying not to fuss about what'd happen then, I switched over to feeling glum about Ho-John and how I'd sunk his chances. Once Chilly sat down and figured out how those pantry floorboards had got loosened, he'd be shouting for Ho-John's head. Oh, I tried to tell myself it had been an accident, that I hadn't meant to drag anyone else down with me, but that didn't smooth the waters any. All round, it was a pretty gloomy ride, especially after the princess got it in her head to start acting all chipper. What improved her mood so was the drizzle.

"It'll knock down our scent," she said.

Well, I knew that. I was about to tell her so too when the wind gusted, carrying the baying of Goose's hounds. My haunches went tight as springs above that pony, but soon as the wind died off, their barking faded away and I breathed easy (in between struggling not to sneeze). Then the wind came snaking back, this time from a different direction and carrying Chilly's shouts: "Ho-John? Ho-John!"

He sounded close enough to grab my ankle, though I couldn't spy him anywhere near 'bouts. By and by, the princess spotted the tiniest twinkle way off through the woods, and we figured that for his lantern.

"Ho-John!" Chilly was yelling. "Don't you go running on me!"

Then the wind shifted directions again, covering up Chilly's voice with the creaking of tree limbs and the rustling of leaves and even the ringing of church bells clear from town, but hearing him that brief bit made the chief order the princess to hold up. He adjusted his warbonnet that way he did when listening to what the crow was saying. After a little, the chief whispered a question to the pouch, which he'd dropped atop his head the instant I'd handed it off to him. Still hanging on to the chief's shoulders, I heard the pouch reply in Indian. It didn't sound none too happy. Back and forth the chief and crow went till the wind swung around, blowing Chilly's threats our way again.

"You ain't going nowhere, Ho-John," Chilly yelled. "Not with those dogs giving away your every move."

I asked the princess in a low voice what the chief and that crow were going on about, hoping they were figuring out some way to give Ho-John a hand, but that wasn't the case at all.

"They're talking over which way to go," she said.

"But Ho-John's in trouble," I pointed out.

"And we aren't?"

"I think maybe I need to go help him."

"What could you do?" the princess scoffed.

The way she made my rescuing Ho-John sound laughable gave me the pluck to say, "Maybe I can distract Chilly."

"By getting yourself get caught?"

"I hope not, but if that's what it takes..." The words trailed off on me, as happens when you're not exactly sure how brave you're prepared to be.

"Well, don't let us slow you down," she said, though maybe with a touch of admiration. The only reason I say that is because she begrudgingly added, "We'll wait up the trail for a while."

"Fair 'nough," I told her.

Sliding off the back of the pony felt like going down in deep water for the third time. The woods were already mucky dark and the drizzle had soaked me to the skin, so I might as well have been sinking into the river. I'm sorry to have to say it, but I hung on to that pony's bristly tail till the princess walked him out of my grasp. Within seconds they'd disappeared down the trail, the chief and crow whispering all the way. That made it just me and the trees, the nearest one being a hickory with branches that seemed to be clawing at me, but even that wasn't enough prodding to move me toward that tiny light way off in the woods. Both my feet liked it right where they were, even when I tried reasoning with them. Pleading didn't work either. I was just about to try ordering them forward when Chilly shouted, "Wait up now, Ho-John. If you got any idea what's good for..."

But then the gust died off and I couldn't make out the tail end of his threat. When the wind came back next, it'd swung around behind me, and I figured there was a chance it'd carry my voice to Chilly without my having to convince my feet to budge an inch. That was all the encouragement I needed to bawl out in a hurry, "Chilly! This way! I got Ho-John! Right here! Can you hear me? If you can..."

My voice was hoarse by the time the wind shifted away, but at least my plan appeared to be working, 'cause that lantern light started growing a touch bigger and Chilly was answering me. "That you, boy? Just stay right where you are. I'm coming. Don't you move a foot."

Then the wind sashayed back my way, which meant it was my turn again to cut loose. "Over here!"

Back and forth we went as the wind played its tricks, blowing this way and that and occasionally dying to a whisper. Chilly and his lantern drew closer and closer, while the night kept on swallowing more and more black till it felt about to smother my soul—if Chilly didn't find it first. The only thing that kept me going was the thought that Ho-John might be getting away, so at least some good would come of my suffering an end too terrible for words.

"Consarn it, boy! Where'd you get to?"

Mixed up with all his bullyragging was the occasional wind-carried sound of the hounds far and gone away, which gave Chilly pause and made him yell for me all the louder, his temper just shaking and blasting, 'cause even with a lantern he couldn't follow the deer trail we'd been on and kept bumbling into thickets that tore at his sleeves and pants. Nearer he prowled, till he wasn't but twenty or thirty yards distant. His raging face and tangled hair were flashing in and out of the light as he swung the lantern to and fro.

"Boy!" he bellowed. Then lower, to himself, he added, "When I get my hands on you..."

Still as a moth, I pressed against the trunk of that nearby hickory and tried to shut my eyes, though—wouldn't you know—this time they wouldn't close for nothing. What's more, my lower jaw set to trembling, my hands hung limp and useless at my sides, and something tinier than a cricket was chirping in my throat. I could feel a faint coming on fast, but before it hit, the wind whipped around one more time, bringing with it the hell-bent yipping of hounds. It sounded as though the chase was over and they'd treed someone.

That stopped Chilly cold. He spun around twice right where he stood, not knowing what to think about the change in the dogs' barking. Into the wind he shouted, "Boy!" And then, "Ho-John!"

I squeezed against that tree trunk for all I was worth. Chilly had slogged so close by then that I hadn't dared a peep for several minutes. And then, maybe because Chilly's gold watch was still ticking in my vest pocket, my luck held and the wind kept right on carrying the yelping of the hounds to Chilly.

"If I ever..." Chilly threatened. "Boy!" Holding the lantern high, he inched all the way around again, peering into the gloom as he called, "You know what needs doing. Come on in now." He kept turning. "Won't nothing bad happen to you." Then under his breath, "Excepting when I get my hands on you."

And all the while the hounds went wilder and crazier till Chilly couldn't stand listening to them no more and shouted, "Urgggg!" Giving up on me, he started punching his way back out of the thicket I'd lured him into. He was heading back toward the dogs.

The wind held steady for another couple of minutes—going on centuries—pulling Chilly away from me. And off to the west and south, a thunderstorm reared its head, sparking the clouds up good and whipping the wind even harder. I hung on to the hickory, waiting, waiting, and when Chilly was a good hundred yards gone, I bolted for the chief and princess. By the time I caught up to them, the drizzle had turned to sheets of rain and there wasn't nothing but falling water to be heard. It was such a lovely sound and the downpour had soaked me so completely that I figured it was safe to cry. Nobody'd notice.