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  And his body twitched.

  Half his head blown off, his brains rolling out and the damn body still twitched.

  Maura cocked the hammer again, lowered the colt to Daniel’s brains and pulled the trigger.

  And then he finally went still.

  Maura turned around and slowly walked back to the wagon. Seth had disobeyed her. He was seated on the platform, holding the shotgun, trying to look like a man.

  “What did I tell you, Seth?” Maura said when she reached the wagon.

  “There was shooting,” Seth said.

  Maura stepped upon the mounting block and hoisted herself onto the seat next to Seth. “Do not disobey me again,” she said.

  “You killed him,” Seth said.

  “I had to,” Maura said. “Just like Mr. Philip.”

  Maura released the hand break to free the front wheel.

  “I couldn’t see his face,” Seth said. “Do you know who he was?”

  Maura set the Colt on the seat between them and picked up the reins. “No,” she said and gave the horses a gently tug. “And don’t ask me again.”

  Chapter 5

  Charlie Red Foot and Max Sands led the party of Marshals out of Billings on a due east course. Tracking was a process of elimination really. Follow all tracks on the course you’ve chosen until some turn off left or right, keep following those on your course until you’ve narrowed it down to the set or sets you’re after.

  In this case, two horses and a weighted down mule were sets not too difficult to follow at all.

  It took until early afternoon before Red Foot and Sands were sure they found the right set of tracks. They dismounted to inspect the ground carefully.

  “Is it them?” Lane said from atop his horse. “Is it Craig and his deputy?”

  “Yes,” Red Foot said. “It’s them.”

  Lane pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. “Let’s noon for a bit,” he said. “Rest the horses and our backs. Then we’ll ride until dark.”

  Poule and Scripture made a fire, Lane and Teal tended to the horses, Red Foot and Sands rode ahead to scout the trail.

  By the time Red Foot and Sands returned, six cans of beans and one pot of coffee were boiling in the fire and twelve biscuits were warming in the fry pan.

  “You white eyes sure know how to eat,” Red Foot said as he scooped up a can of beans.

  “I don’t have time to hunt a Buffalo for you, but when we return to town I’ll buy you a steak,” Lane said.

  “Tracks continue on toward the Crow Nation,” Sands said.

  “Can we reach it by noon tomorrow?” Lane said.

  “We can,” Red Foot said. “If the white eyes don’t sleep in.”

  “Aw, Charlie, cut out the white eyes bullshit,” Lane cracked. “You live in a nice house outside the fort with a pretty Irish gal and your two blonde haired sons.”

  “And she pecks him like a hen, too,” Sands added. “He’s one broken buck.”

  “The Army outpost is how far from the Crow Nation?” Lane said.

  “Six, maybe seven miles west,” Red Foot said.

  “Maybe they stopped there for a bit or a patrol spotted them?” Lane said. “We’ll stop there first, maybe grab some extra supplies.”

  After lunch, they rode at a steady pace so as not to wear out the horses. Red Foot and Sands stayed twenty yards in front. After about three hours of riding, Red Foot suddenly veered off to his left and rode hard.

  Sands quickly followed.

  “What do you suppose that’s about?” Lane said.

  Red Foot stopped his horse and dismounted just as Sands caught up to him.

  “We best go see,” Lane said.

  Lane and his three deputies rode out to Red Foot and Sands where Red Foot was slowly approaching two saddled horses. The horses were eating sweet grass and cautiously watching the scout approach.

  Lane immediately scanned the horizon for signs of the horse’s riders, but spotted nothing. “I’m not liking this,” Lane said.

  From atop his horse, Scripture said, “No footprints anywhere.”

  “C’mon,” Lane said.

  Lane and his deputies rode to Sands. Red Foot was slowly approaching the closest horse. Skittish, it snorted and back stepped a bit.

  “Easy, boy,” Red Foot said, softly. “I just want to have a look at you is all.”

  Slowly, Red Foot approached the horse, took the reins and patted its neck. “That’s it, boy,” he said. “Nice and easy, let me have a look under the saddle.”

  Red Foot loosened the saddle and gently lifted it to read the owner’s mark burned into the leather. He lowered the saddle, turned and looked at Lane. “US Marshal Craig,” he said.

  “Damn,” Lane said. “Can you tell where they came from?”

  “West,” Red Foot said.

  “Tow them in,” Lane said. “We’ll take them with us.”

  Red Foot and Sands rode a half mile ahead of Lane and the deputies. With two horses in tow, it was pointless to try and keep pace with the two scouts.

  A few hours later, Sands came riding in fast. “Marshal, you’re going to want to see this,” Sands said and galloped on ahead.

  Lane took off behind Sands, followed by Scripture and Poule. With the two horses in tow, Teal brought up the rear.

  Lane yanked his horse to a stop beside Red Foot and quickly dismounted.

  “Charlie, what the fuck happened here?” Lane said.

  “You tell me,” Red Foot said.

  Sands and the others arrived and dismounted.

  Six or seven dead bodies in various stages of decomposition were littered on the ground. Three of the bodies were Indians. Two were wearing the uniform of a US Calvary Soldier. All were shot multiple times, but Lane didn’t think their wounds killed them. They had the look of sick men, of men being rotted from the inside out by some terrible infliction.

  Something else got to these men first, he thought. What, he had no idea.

  “You ever see anything like this?” Lane said to Red Foot.

  “No,” Red Foot said. “And there’s something else.”

  Red Foot walked around the side of a tree to where Craig and his deputy had camped.

  “Do you mean to tell me this is where Craig and his deputy camped?” Lane said.

  “No sign of Craig, but the deputy wasn’t so lucky,” Red Foot said and pointed to a bare naked rib cage.

  Lane looked at the rib cage. Beside it was the ripped remains of a red shirt and pinned to the pocket was a Deputy US Marshal’s Badge.

  “Coyotes, wolves, Puma, what?” Lane said.

  “Only tracks are human,” Red Foot said.

  “Here’s what’s left of an arm,” Sands said.

  “And a leg,” Scripture said.

  “Are you telling me that this deputy was eaten by something other than a wild animal?” Lane said. “Is that what you’re telling me, Charlie?”

  “I’m telling you there are no animal tracks except for the horses,” Red Foot said. “The tracks and prints on the ground tell me there was one hell of a fight here. That’s what I’m telling you.”

  “Grab your pack shovels,” Lane said. “We have some burying to do.”

  It took several hours to dig a grave deep and wide enough to hold all the bodies, plus the skeletal remains of the deputy and then cover it up. They left the gravesite unmarked.

  “Close to dark,” Lane said. “Let’s find a place to make camp.”

  “There’s a creek with good water not a half mile from here,” Red Foot said.

  “That will do,” Lane said.

  Chapter 6

  Maura stopped to make camp with ninety minutes of daylight left. She wanted to be able to make a fire to cook before dark so the fire wouldn’t be seen. She parked the wagon under two large, overhanging trees to keep the light of tonight’s full moon off it. She fed and watered the horses, hobbled them with leather strips, but kept them hitched just in case.

  In a large, cast iron fry pan,
she cooked bacon and beans and in a smaller pan, she warmed four biscuits she baked earlier in the morning. As soon as they ate and rinsed the plates and pans, she doused the fire with the used water.

  For dessert, Maura opened a large can of peaches in syrup, allowed Seth to drink the syrup as a treat, then they shared eight peach halves.

  “It will be dark in a few minutes, Seth,” Maura said when the last peach half was eaten. “Make room in the wagon for your bedroll and go to sleep.”

  “Room for two you mean?” Seth said.

  “I’ll sleep in the buckboard,” Maura said.

  “Why? There’s room.”

  “You’re too old now to be sleeping with your mother, Seth,” Maura said. “In a few years you’ll be a man. A man does not sleep with his ma-ma.”

  “Okay, Ma,” Seth said. “But if you get cold or lonely, you hop in.”

  While Seth made room for his bedroll in the wagon, Maura checked the Colt revolver and shotgun to make sure they were fully loaded. She set a case of ammunition for each weapon on the buckboard.

  As night set in, she sat on the buckboard with the revolver by her right hand and the shotgun between her legs. She had a blanket that she wrapped around her shoulders.

  “Seth, did you say your prayers?” Maura said.

  “Yes, Ma,” Seth said from the wagon.

  “Then go to sleep.”

  Several hours later, Maura felt her eyes start to close a bit so she stood in the buckboard and stretched her back. The cooler night air felt good on her face, but her body was shutting down from exhaustion.

  She sat and looked up at the giant snowball of a moon, so bright it cast shadows of the surrounding trees. Protected by the massive branches and leaves of the two trees she parked the wagon under, the wagon cast no shadow. She knew it would be invisible to anyone stalking about at night.

  They were safe for the moment. She could sleep for a while, but how does a woman sleep when only half a day ago she shot and killed a man and then had to do the same to her own husband of fourteen years.

  Maura closed her eyes and started to drift off when she saw Daniel’s face, half eaten, snarling with blood red teeth, his one arm reaching for her as if to…to bite her.

  She had no choice.

  She had to protect Seth, their only son.

  Then Daniel went away as her head slumped and there was only blackness.

  For a little while.

  She didn’t know if she heard it or dreamt it, but a soft noise caused her head to jerk and her eyes to snap open.

  The full moon.

  So bright.

  Shadows everywhere, blending together so as to appear as one.

  Maura’s right hand touched the Colt revolver and as quietly as possible, she cocked the hammer. Slowly, she brought the heavy revolver up to her lap.

  Eyes and ears straining to see and hear Maura kept as still and silent as possible as she scanned the surrounding area.

  Silence.

  There wasn’t enough of a breeze to stir a leaf.

  She set the pistol back onto the seat of the buckboard and just then, a twig snapped in the distance.

  The sound came from her left. She snatched the Colt and aimed it in the general direction of the noise.

  Many seconds ticked off in Maura’s mind as she held the heavy revolver in her hand. Her wrist started to shake and she used the left hand to support the right. She slowed her breathing so as to not make any sounds.

  SNAP.

  There it was again, something or someone stepping on a twig.

  And it wasn’t that far away.

  Thirty feet at most.

  A shadow moved behind a tree to Maura’s left. Elongated, the shadow crept forward. Another twig snapped.

  Maura prepared herself to shoot and kill whoever came out from behind the tree, man or beast. That’s why she hobbled the horses, but left them hitched and made Seth sleep in the wagon. In case she needed to flee at a moment’s notice, she wanted to be ready.

  The shadow moved again.

  Maura aimed the Colt revolver carefully at the shadow, ready to send to hell whoever or whatever stepped around the tree.

  She took a breath and held it the way Daniel taught her.

  Her finger gently tightened on the trigger to squeeze it rather than jerk it the way Daniel taught her.

  A head appeared low to the ground, followed by a thick, brown body and four legs. The creature was a deer, a doe, and from the size of her stomach just about ready to give birth.

  Maura sighed with relief as she de-cocked the Colt and set it on the seat beside her. The doe came out, looked at her for a moment and then scampered away to the safety of thicker trees.

  A sudden thirst hit her and Maura picked up the canteen on the buckboard and drank until the thirst was quenched.

  Then she closed her eyes and fell asleep sitting up and didn’t stir again until the first sunlight warmed her face and she opened her eyes to a bright, blue sky.

  Chapter 7

  In daylight, as the group ate a quick breakfast of cold biscuits, jerked meat and hot coffee, Red Foot and Sands rode out to try and pick up a trail for Marshal Craig. He left his campsite on foot, but to where?

  “A man doesn’t run off on foot when he has a perfectly good horse at his side unless he has a damn good reason,” Lane reasoned as he rolled a smoke to go with his coffee.

  “They were outnumbered eight to two,” Scripture suggested. “A middle of the night surprise attack could make any man run.”

  “I don’t disagree with that ordinarily,” Lane said as he lit his cigarette with a wood match. “But, the eight men were unarmed and some of them were Indians. Soldiers and Indians without weapons attack armed Marshals during the night why? Would you risk raiding a camp unarmed when the two men you’re attacking are armed with rifles, shotguns and pistols? And the deputy, how do you explain his condition when we found him. Something ate him to the bone, but there’s no animal tracks.”

  Scripture, Poule and Teal stared at Lane.

  Red Foot and Sands rode into camp and dismounted.

  “Picked up his tracks headed east to the hills about a quarter mile from here,” Red Foot said. “He was in one hell of a hurry that’s for sure.”

  Red Foot and Sands filled cups with hot coffee and took seats on the ground.

  “But no sign of him?” Lane said.

  “No,” Sands said.

  “We have a decision to make,” Lane said. “Ride into Crow Nation or look for Craig and hope we find him alive?”

  “I say we split up,” Sands said. “I’ll follow his trail. He’s on foot. How far could he have gotten?”

  “Teal, you go with him,” Lane said. “Max, mark your trail so we can follow. We should reach Crow Nation in four hours. We’ll get what information we can, then backtrack and pick up your trail.”

  “What about the Army?” Poule said.

  “We’ll swing by the outpost on the way out of the Nation,” Lane said. “Somebody has got to have seen Craig, or that gang of cutthroats we buried back there.”

  Sand finished his coffee and stood up. He looked at Deputy Teal. “If you’re ready, let’s ride,” he said.

  “Break camp, saddle up,” Lane said. He turned to Teal. “You keep your eyes open.”

  “Want me to scout ahead?” Red Foot said.

  “Yes,” Lane said.

  In one swift move, Red Foot was atop his horse.

  “And that goes for you, too,” Lane said.

  “My eyes are always open,” Red Foot said and rode away in a cloud of dust.

  Chapter 8.

  Charlie Red Foot dismounted and stood at the base of gentle rolling hills that marked the beginning of the Crow Nation. He pulled out his tobacco pouch and rolled a cigarette, all the while his eyes scanning the hills and treetops for any sign of warriors or movement.

  Beside him, the horse snorted a bit as if nervous or anxious. Red Foot patted his neck to ease his building insecurity.
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br />   “I know,” Red Foot said, softly. “I don’t like it, either.”

  The horse restlessly moved his front legs. Red Foot opened a saddle bag for some sugar cubes. He held the cubs to the horse and he licked them from his fingers.

  “Easy, boy,” Red Foot said. “Easy.”

  The sugar quieted the horse’s nerves a bit and Red Foot scanned the hills while he smoked. Lane and his deputies were maybe two miles behind him. He could backtrack and meet them, or wait for them to arrive and continue scanning the hills.

  He chose to wait and scan.

  When the cigarette was done, he dropped it to the ground and stepped on it with a heavy boot, then removed the binoculars from the saddle bag. They were Army issue binoculars and powerful. He zoomed in on the hills and treetops and saw nothing.

  Lane and the deputies came in from the left and Red Foot turned to meet them.

  “I don’t like it,” Red Foot said. “Not a sentry anywhere. On a hill, in a tree, nowhere. The Crow are very protective of their land. There should be twenty or more men on lookout and patrol, but there ain’t.”

  “Maybe you just can’t see them?” Lane said.

  “The Crow want you to see them,” Red Foot said. “At least at the boundary line. It tells you to keep out. If you pass uninvited, the Crow you don’t see are the ones that will get you.”

  “How far to their living grounds?” Lane said.

  “Two, maybe two and a half miles,” Red Foot said. “Due north through that pass.”

  “Let’s go,” Lane said. “Charlie, lead the way.”

  They rode a mile into Crow Nation without seeing a scout on horse or in the hills or a sign of any living thing.

  “I have the feeling we’re being watched,” Lane said to Red Foot.

  “Yup,” Red Foot said.

  “You see anything?” Lane said.

  “Nope.”

  Red Foot led them through a small passage between two hills, then up and over an embankment that led to the pass where the three thousand Crow lived year round. They stopped on the embankment that stood a hundred feet above the lush valley below where a thousand Teepee’s should have been, but weren’t.

  Lane looked at Red Foot. “Charlie?”