Death's Horse Throws A Shoe

Part 6

Jeb rode hard, heading straight for the hills. The territory was Indian land and he would have to be careful. It would not do to escape the hangman's noose only to end up scalped by a brave who did not appreciate his presence. Once he reached the trees, he would slow down and move with extreme caution. Jeb could almost feel the posse behind him and they would be out for blood. He tried to feel bad about humiliating them, but just could not bring himself to do it. He was sure he had not killed Fenner. They were sure that he had. That made them dangerous.

Jeb took a glance behind him. If he had not been in such a hurry, he would have enjoyed the view. The land stretched on forever-grasslands and hills, rocks, trees and clear blue sky. It was the kind of place someone might want to stay, maybe make a home and settle down. Jeb wondered what it would be like to have that need. He had been on the move from town to town since he was a kid and had seen most of the West. He enjoyed the roaming, feeling that to stay in one place would be to become stagnant. How many people could say they had seen as much as him? Very few with any authority. There was still so much that he had not seen and he had every intention of trying to see it all.

His reverie was broken by a plume of dust to his right followed by the crack of a rifle. They had found him. He gave his horse a kick and got her into a run. The terrain allowed his mount to move side to side making him a hard target to hit at that range. Jeb was thankful for that as more dirt was kicked up next to him. He heard the report of more than one rifle. They will be on him in no time if he could not make the trees. He looked back and could now see his pursuers. They had caught up quicker than he had expected. Jeb was not new to being chased and thought he had covered his tracks well enough to delay just about any posse. They must have one hell of a tracker to get to him so fast.

He kicked hard again and goaded his horse even faster, leaning close to the beast's neck. The wind caused its mane to slap at Jeb's face. The trees were so close and the bullets were getting more numerous and closer to him. Jeb did not relish the idea of charging through Indian land with a posse on his tail. They might just decide to kill them all.

Jeb had made the tree line and plunged into the forest and the light of the sun dimmed. He took a breath, but charged on, bullets blowing large chunks of bark and wood from the trees next to him. He was at the base of the hills and the ground elevated sharply. His horse worked hard, sweating and snorting with the effort when Jeb was struck in the back. Intense pain erupted in his back. He had been hit and the bullet burned like fire inside. It was all that he could do to stay in the saddle. His horse whinnied in fear, as if sensing his rider was in trouble and picked up her already fast pace, moving deeper into the forest. Jeb hung on with all his might. His strength ebbed and his vision tunneled dangerously. Sticky blood filled his shirt and he could smell its coppery odor. The pain intensified with each step of his horse and blacked out.

*****

Jeb floated in and out of consciousness. He desperately tried to wake up, but every time his eyes would get partially open, light would force them to close and sleep would take him again. Each time he passed out, his dreams would become more vivid and more bizarre. He was naked and walking through a forest in the snow, but he did not feel the slightest bit cold. He would walk a ways then see a massive grizzly bear moving through the trees. His eyes would open and then slam shut again. The scene would return and the bear would be closer.

This continued for what seemed like ages, until he was close enough to smell the grizzly. Its sheer sized dwarfed Jeb as it towered over him, standing on its hind legs. It roared and its hot breath created a cloud of mist in the air. Jeb was not afraid. He knew that he should be, but something made him calm-even serene. He was at peace. The bear's breath seemed to fill the forest until the trees were obscured. The bear dropped to all fours and moved toward Jeb until they were face to muzzle. Jeb stared the big grizzly in the eyes. They were strangely human in appearance. It exhaled into Jeb's face and Jeb breathed it in. It had none of the unpleasantness that he was expecting. It had no odor at all and as soon as it was in his lungs, warmth spread across his body.

Wake up, Jebediah Malik. The disembodied voice echoed and the scene began to fade. Wake up. The trees disappeared slowly, but the bear remained clear-even brightening. Jeb stared into its eyes. Wake up. All went black until only the eyes remained. He remained locked on the gaze and then realized that he was looking into the face of an elderly Indian man, his sun browned skin was leathery and wrinkled. The Indian leaned back and laughed heartily making the wrinkles even more pronounced. Jeb waited until his eyes had fully adjusted to the dim light before taking in his surroundings. He was in a small tepee. Furs and dried herbs lined the hide walls. He was naked and covered in skins and laying next to a crackling fire. The smoke was fragrant and sweet. Jeb tried to sit up, but a wrinkled hand pushed him back down onto the pad. The Indian spoke, but Jeb could not understand the words.

"He wants you to lay still. You are still very weak," someone said as a figured entered the tent. "We were able to remove the bullet, but you lost a lot of blood. It will take a while for you to regain your strength. I'm afraid that you will have to stay for a while." The young Indian smiled. It had been a long time since he saw such sincerity in a smile.

"Where am I?" Jeb croaked.

"Do not speak, Jebediah Malik." The boy tipped some water into Jeb's parched mouth. "There will be time for questions and answers once you have rested."

It was only then that Jeb realized that the boy was merely translating everything that the old man was saying. He marveled at how good the boy's English was. The young Indian must have had plenty of contact with white men to have honed the language so well. The ancient man laughed again and lit a long stemmed pipe with a burning stick from the fire. He puffed out clouds of blue smoke and chuckled again. Jeb lay back and was fast asleep in no time.