Grayfox (16 page)

I ran to the girl and knelt down.

She was slumped over sideways, her back leaning against the wall of rock—she was either sleeping or had fainted from the heat or lack of food and drink.

If only I had some water! One look at her parched, cracked, bleeding lips, and I knew she probably hadn't had anything to drink in two days. At least she wasn't gagged, like Demming said.

With that same look I was immediately taken with this young Indian maiden. The exhaustion of her whole body, the dust in her hair, the smears of dirt and the scratches on her arms and face couldn't hide that she could be nothing less than a chief's daughter. I guessed her to be eighteen or nineteen, though her sunken cheeks and closed eyes made it difficult to tell.

I softly spoke a few words to her, but they didn't succeed in waking her. I was getting nervous—I don't know if it was because of Demming or because this was Chief Winnemucca's daughter.

She reminded me somehow of my sister Emily. I guess she looked about the same age and was pretty like Emily, though with darker skin.

I didn't think of it at the time, but later I realized that all three of the things Hawk had spoken about when we had been talking about courage were right then going on inside me.

We talked about what a man
does
and about being brave, which I don't know if I was or not, but I was sure facing danger right then—and his name was Jack Demming!

We'd talked, too, about using your
head
and being a thinking kind of person. I reckon I was doing that, too, trying to remember everything Hawk had taught me and trying to figure where Demming had taken Laughing Waters and how to outsmart him and get her away.

And we'd talked about
feelings
and how that was a part of themselves that most men aren't too well acquainted with. I don't know if that was true about me, but one thing for sure was that I felt things stirring around in my heart right about now that were different than what I felt when I was around Hawk. Maybe they were feelings of compassion or an instinct of protection like I'd feel toward my sisters if they were in danger. Whatever those feelings were, they made me all the more determined to get this girl out of here safely!

I was timid about touching her, but I had to try to get her conscious again.

I touched her cheek softly. A tingle went through my hand. Her skin wasn't soft, but it had a different quality than a man's skin. I touched her again, this time patting at her cheek a couple times.

Still there was no sign of life.

Did I dare
slap
her to try to wake her up?

I laid my hands on her shoulders and jostled her, then shook harder. Finally I did slap her cheek, though gently, then again.

A faint groan sounded. At least she was still alive!

I shook her shoulders again, staring straight at her closed eyelids. Slowly they opened a slit, just as she groaned again. Her head turned toward me.

The moment she saw me her eyes opened wide.

It was a look I will never forget—an awful, terrible expression. The first instant she saw my face, her eyes filled with
fear
. In that instant, maybe more than any other moment of my life, something inside me decided what kind of man I wanted to be—and it wasn't a man like the fella named Jake that Hawk had told me about, or Demming or this girl's half-Paiute tribesman. I couldn't think of anything worse than for another person to be
afraid
of me.

“Please,” I said, “you have nothing to fear.”

She kept staring at me, as if she was paralyzed. My hands were still on her shoulders. I took them away and leaned away from her.

“Are you Laughing Waters?”

Still she did not move.

“Do you understand me?”

Slowly her head nodded.

“Are you Laughing Waters?”

Again she nodded.

“Don't be afraid,” I said. “I have come to take you back to your father.”

A look of confusion now replaced the fear.

“The . . . the other man?” she said in a parched voice, but in English.

“We must get away from here before he returns. Can you walk?”

“My feet . . . hands . . . he tied me.”

Now I noticed the ropes around her wrists and ankles. I don't know why I didn't see them earlier.

“You have water? . . . so thirsty. . . .”

“No, I'm afraid—”

A feeling of panic shot through me. I heard Demming's horse approaching up the hill!

If he found me here, we'd both be done for.

“He's coming back,” I whispered to Laughing Waters. “But don't be afraid. I'll get you away from him somehow.”

“No . . . don't leave,” she pleaded.

“I have to. Otherwise neither one of us'll have a chance.”

I thought for a moment.

“Try to get him to leave again. Ask him for water, tell him you heard somebody coming, tell him you heard a call from one of your people up in the hills behind us. Just try to get him to leave again. I won't be far away.”

I stood and left her.

But the moment I started between the two big rocks, I heard Demming coming up the path.

Too late! I couldn't escape now.

I turned and ran back into the ravine, paused a moment where Laughing Waters was watching with fear in her eyes, then kept on further into the little ravine. It was not straight, so I hurried around a bend, and at the end, surrounded by high cliffs, I found a little crevice back under one of the faces of rock.

I crept into the darkness, praying that no hungry snakes were too close by.

Then I crouched down and waited.

I recognized Jack Demming's voice instantly.

At first he thought Laughing Waters was asleep, but the moment he realized she was awake he began growling mean things at her and laughing cruelly. Then I heard a slapping sound followed by a hoarse scream, and I knew he had hit her.

It was all I could do to stay where I was. My natural instinct was to rush out and attack him, but I knew how stupid that would be. Demming was twice as big as me. Even Hawk had nearly had more than he could handle till I'd gotten hold of the rifle when they were fighting. Besides, he had a gun and hated me now as much as he hated any Indian. He wouldn't think twice about killing me.

I waited, hoping Laughing Waters would be able to get the bounty hunter to leave again.

It took a long time, probably an hour, but I heard their voices every once in a while, and eventually I heard Demming's heavy footsteps walking back out between the rocks of the narrow opening. The next second I was rushing back out to Laughing Waters' side.

“Are you all right?” I asked, kneeling down.

“Yes, but hurry. He will be back.”

I tried to untie the cords around her hands and feet, but they were too tight and since I'd left the quiver up with the pony, I had nothing sharp.

Finally I picked her up, one arm under her knees, the other under her shoulders, and carried her to the opening between the rocks. Then I set her down.

“Let me see if the coast is clear,” I said.

I snuck through cautiously and peered out. Demming was nowhere in sight.

I hurried back.

“The opening is too narrow for me to carry you,” I said. “You'll have to hop through. I'll help you.”

Halfway holding her arms and hands, I helped her jostle and jump her way through the narrow opening. As soon as it was wide enough, I scooped her up in my arms again and hurried up the hill toward the waiting pony.

There was no time to lose, no time to stop to try to get the ropes loosened.

“Hang onto me,” I said.

With my right hand I reached to take hold of the pony's rope, while she clung tight around my neck and shoulder. Then as best I could I made my way further up the hill, trying to put as much distance as I could between us and Demming's little hideout. We had to move quickly, because if he came back too soon, he was sure to hear the pony's hooves on the rocky ground.

Carrying Laughing Waters as well as the bow and arrows and pulling the pony behind me, I struggled along for four or five minutes before I had to set my burdens down and rest. We had covered a fair distance, I thought, and had wound through several twisting little draws and washes, enough so I thought we would be safe for a few minutes at least.

I set Laughing Waters down as gently as I could, then plopped down beside her.

“Whew!” I sighed.

“You have courage, young man—you risk your life for a Paiute,” she said solemnly, “against one of your own kind.”

“Demming's not
my
kind,” I said. “I've run into him once before, and believe me, there's no love lost between the two of us.”

“And yet you are brave to rescue me. Many white men think an Indian girl is not worth the trouble.”

I looked over into her face. I hadn't even stopped to think what I was doing until that moment. Suddenly I realized she was right. Once I'd escaped from the Paiute camp, I didn't
have
to rescue her. I could have left the Indians and Demming to fend for themselves. But the moment I looked at her and saw the look of gratefulness that had replaced the fear when she had first seen me, I knew beyond any doubt that she
was
worth whatever it took to see her safely back with her father.

I would even go up against Demming face-to-face for her sake. Why, I couldn't have said, and I didn't stop to analyze it right then. I just knew I would. I knew that here was a girl I would do anything for.

“Well, maybe I'm not like the rest,” I said. “But now let's get those bindings off you.” I got out one of the arrows and within two or three minutes, being as careful of her wrists and ankles as possible, I had her free from Demming's leather thongs.

“How did you get him to leave?” I asked Laughing Waters.

“I do like you say, tell him I hear a signal from my people. At first he laugh at me. But I keep looking around, moving my head like I hear noise. Finally he gets nervous and goes to look.”

“Good for you!” I said. “Lucky for us he went down the hill, or we'd have run right into him.”

“What is your name, brave white man?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah—sorry. I'm Zack Hollister.”

“Why did you come, Zack Hollister . . . how did you find me?”

“I'm a friend of Hawk Trumbull's,” I said. “Your father brought us to your camp and told us Demming had you. Hawk was supposed to find you, but . . . well, I guess I got to you first.”

“Hawk is a good man. My father respects him. . . . Oh, I'm so thirsty!” added Laughing Waters with a weary groan.

Recovered from the climb, I now stood up to look around and try to figure out what we should do next. I had to find some water. Laughing Waters was about done in from thirst, and I was mighty parched too!

Then we had to get back to the valley floor without Demming spotting us. And we had to cover the wide distance across it without him seeing us, which, from the vantage point of this ridge of mountains overlooking it, would be difficult.

We had climbed steeply up the hill, zigzagging back and forth along whatever path seemed easiest at the time. But it still seemed that our only clear avenue of escape back to the valley floor led straight back the way we had come, down the draw past Demming's hiding place.

I either had to find some other route down out of the mountains, or else some way to lure Demming a good distance from where he had been keeping Laughing Waters.

I left Laughing Waters and the pony and climbed up the steep face of the cliff on a jagged series of indentations. In a short time I was high up and could see clearly in all directions. Down below us, to my left, I saw the hidden ravine where Laughing Waters had been. Further on down the hill, there was Demming!

He was looking all around and making his way back up the hill. There wasn't a moment to lose!

I scanned about the mountainous terrain in every direction. Then suddenly a plan came into my head. It was probably foolhardy. But against a man like Jack Demming I knew that a face-to-face confrontation would never work.

We would never get out of this alive unless we outsmarted him. That's what I hoped to do.

As quietly as possible, I scurried back down the rocks and rejoined Laughing Waters, then carefully explained to her what we had to do.

There had been seven arrows in the quiver I'd grabbed, and they were the only weapon I had. Against Demming's gun they didn't seem like much, but they would have to do.

I'd have to use them carefully, hopefully to trick the kidnapper instead of shooting him.

I slung the bow up around my back, took the quiver in my hand, made sure Laughing Waters knew what she was to do, and then crept once more up the rocks above us, this time in a course parallel to the direction of the whole ridge—mostly southward but a little to the east. It was midmorning by now, maybe even getting on toward noon. I headed toward the sun. It was already pretty high in the sky. But by going south, even at midday, I still kept it in front of me. I hoped it would be in Demming's eyes too—enough to keep him from seeing me.

I was trying to work my way in a large circle, both down through the hills toward the south and at the same time closer to Demming. My plan was to lure him away from where he had kept Laughing Waters. If I could get him far enough away on foot, then she could take the pony back the way we had come, past the hiding place, until the mountains began to level off, and then get on the pony and ride back down into the valley. From where we were, the only place safe for the pony's footing was past Demming's position.

I climbed and walked and crawled my way for probably twenty or thirty minutes, then stopped and refigured my position. Demming had returned by now, had found Laughing Waters missing, and even as far away as I was I could hear his swearing plain enough. He was looking frantically around, then finally began to make his way up the hill, just the way we'd gone, toward the east.

I couldn't wait any longer. I didn't dare let him go far enough to pick up our trail. I'd hoped to get a little further away, but this would have to do.

I stood up on a high rock from where I could see him. Then I pulled an arrow from the quiver, slung it into the bow, drew the string back to my ear, took aim, and let it fly.

I waited just long enough to make sure Demming saw which direction the arrow came from, then ducked down out of sight. From this distance I didn't expect to
hit
him, only to attract his attention.

It worked!

He jumped when the arrow struck a rock about ten feet from him, then glanced in my direction. Then he crouched down, still looking toward me. But he saw nothing, because by that time I was out of sight.

I had to keep his attention diverted from where he'd been heading up the hill toward Laughing Waters!

I took off over the rocks as fast as I could, keeping out of sight but making plenty of noise, picking up a few big rocks as I went and tossing them down the hill just to make
sure
he heard me.

I ran for a couple of minutes, then stopped, crouched down, and peered out.

Good! Demming was coming after me.

I glanced around at the sun. If I stood on that big boulder about twenty yards away, I should be in a direct line between it and Demming. I let another arrow fly, this time aiming high over Demming's head to make sure he would see it sailing past him and know the direction it had come from.

Then I scurried to the boulder, climbed to the top, took off my hat, and stood up on top, holding the bow in the air.

“We have girl, white man!” I shouted, making my voice sound as Indian-like as I could. I only hoped the sun behind me blinded his eyes enough to keep him from recognizing that I was white too.

The curses which exploded from Demming's mouth were too awful to think about. The next instant a gunshot rang out, and a slug slammed into the boulder three or four feet from me, sending up dust and splinters of rock.

I jumped down out of sight. That was too close!

“No follow, white man,” I called out again in the same voice, “no get girl.” But my words were braver than my actions. I was already hurrying to get further away and stay out of sight!

More cursing and two more shots were the only answer to my words. From the sound of Demming's voice, I figured he thought I
was an Indian, all right—though he wouldn't have been that fond of me, either.

I picked and ran and climbed my way through and around and over the rugged, mountainous, rocky ground, working my way south, away from Demming's hiding place, but gradually westward, too, down the slope of the hillside toward the valley. Demming continued to chase me, firing a shot now and then, but not really gaining on me. As I moved steadily down the hill, gradually the sun quit being right behind me, and before long I knew that if Demming caught a good look at me without the sun in his eyes he'd recognize me.

I had to get close enough to the valley to make a run for it without getting shot. I also had to get Demming far enough away so that Laughing Waters could get the pony down past the hiding place and make a break for it without getting shot herself.

I picked up a few stones, threw them in Demming's direction, then kept going, mostly staying out of sight, but slowing down a little and letting him see me just often enough to make him think he was catching me. I was getting further and further down the mountainside.

Then behind me I heard the sound of a horse.

I climbed a rock and looked back.

Laughing Waters had led the pony down the way we had come, and was now riding past Demming's hiding place.

I was afraid he would turn and start firing at her!

I jumped up on the highest rock nearby, slung another arrow and let it fly, then called out.

“Demming!” I yelled, this time in my normal voice.

I saw him stop and look up.

“That you, Hollister?”

“Yeah, it's me,” I answered. “And I got the best of you this time!”

“Come on down here, Hollister. Give me the girl, and I'll make it worth your while.”

“Just like you were gonna make it worth my pa's while? No deal, Demming!”

“The loot's mine, and the girl's mine!” shouted Demming furiously. “Turn her over, Hollister, or I'll leave you out here to rot with the scorpions and rattlers!”

“You're the one who's gonna be left in the desert, Demming!” I yelled back. “You're not getting the girl or me or my pa!”

“I got a gun, Hollister. If that little Indian bow's all you got, I'll find you eventually.”

Even as he was saying the words, Demming turned and saw Laughing Waters galloping down the last incline of the hills toward the valley floor. Suddenly he realized the trick I'd played on him to lure him so far from his own mount.

I jumped down out of sight again just in time to hear a rapid round of shots echo out and ricochet around the rocks above me.

“I'll kill you, Hollister!” I heard as the echoes died away.

It was time for me to get out of here!

I ran straight down the hill, through a couple short narrow draws, and around several twisting ravines until finally a straight pathway opened in front of me that led straight down to the expanse of plain. I didn't know the range of Demming's pistol, but I had to keep myself out of sight just in case.

I got to the opening to the valley and stopped, then eased myself out from behind a rock and looked back.

Demming was still following me, but it was slow work. He was still up among the rugged rocks and boulders where I had been, and once I started downhill I'd widened the distance between us considerably.

In the distance, along the valley floor, I saw a dust cloud moving toward me. Now I heard the sound of galloping hooves.

It was Laughing Waters! She was making straight for me!

I ran out from the cover of the rocks to meet her!

Several shots rang out behind me. I knew Demming realized now how badly he'd been duped by following me. If I knew Demming, his anger had reached a white fury by now! But he was too far away for his shots to be close, as long as we kept moving.

Laughing Waters galloped up, slowing the pony only enough for me to jump up on its back behind her.

She reached down with her left arm. I grabbed hold, then gave a leap and landed on the pony's back. I stretched my arms around her waist and hung on while she urged the pony on with hoarse Paiute commands I didn't understand.

Off we galloped, keeping close to the cover of the mountains, her long black hair streaming back into my face, with the faint sounds of Demming's voice ringing in my ears from behind.

“I'll kill you, Hollister . . . I'll kill you.”

Several more shots followed, but they were already fading into the distance behind us.