Beyond the Green

29

Tyler watched with panic and blazing fury as Gaines swept Molly away, riding away the victor. Bitterness was a bad taste in his mouth. When he saw the riders stop and turn, he knew what was coming. He heard Molly's scream as the rifle report echoed against the buildings. Wooden splinters spattered his face, the post next to his head taking the bullet. Perkins shot had been close.

In an instant Tyler recognized the opportunity. Letting his body sag, spasms of pain rippled along his back as he played 'possum. Hanging completely still, Molly's shriek of despair echoed in his ears as the riders whipped their horses to a gallop. They struck out to the west, heading for the high peaks of the mountains.

Once they were out of sight, Tyler tried to pull himself to his feet, but the torn muscles in his back would no longer support him. Sagging weakly, his skin twitched violently in agony. He could feel the slow trickle of blood down his back and the occasional sting of flies as they gathered. Through the pain his thoughts were coming clear, jagged pieces of memory falling into place. He remembered what Molly had told him about the day Thorne died;

'I didn't get far before he grabbed me, and I was thrown over the saddle.'

"You have to stay with it, Tyler," he spoke aloud to keep himself alert. A new hatred was building within him. "Kajika will be back soon, you have to stay with it until then."

He repeated this aloud several times a minute, forcing his mind to stay awake. Against his will however, his eyelids got heavier and harder to keep open. Then they closed and he hung limp, motionless.

A smarting pain across his back brought Tyler out of the deep blackness swirling around him. He automatically went for his gun but a gentle hand pushed him back down, a familiar voice soothing him. Warmth eased the burning fire across his torn flesh. A babe whimpered in the background, but muffled, like crying while chewing on a fist.

Forcing his eyes open, everything was indistinct and blurry. The scent was familiar. Fresh sagebrush, cedar, and the unmistakable smell of buffalo oil. He was with the Shoshone. Moving in front of him was a known figure and as the face swam into focus Tyler felt his stomach twist.

Dyani was carefully spreading the melted oil onto the open lacerations that crisscrossed his back, sprinkling a potent herbal mixture as she went. The baby was strapped to her back, now cooing contentedly. Without a sound she avoided looking at him, but tension as visible in her eyes, and stiff posture. Grunting, Tyler shifted uncomfortably on the pallet of furs he lay on. When he tried to lift off his stomach, Dyani again gently pushed him back.

"Lie still." Her voice was soft, but he could hear the tremors. "You must let me finish."

"Where is your father? Where are your brothers?" Tyler replied in the Shoshoni tongue, keeping his voice low.

"They wait outside. Kajika brought you to us, you were like one dead."

"How long ago? How long have I been here?" Tightly controlled panic was beginning to unwind.

"Four days."

With a sudden burst of strength, Tyler shoved to his knees then to his feet. Everything spun as he swayed, staggering a few steps. It caused the wounds across his back to flare with hot pain, but he was past caring. Dyani was up, her hands on his shoulders trying to stop him, but he brushed her aside. Grasping the tepee flap, Tyler stumbled into the dark of twilight. The village was bustling with life, braves gathered around a large fire in the center of the circle of tepees, women and children moving freely here and there.

"Kajika, brother!" His shout brought a sudden hush as every head turned.

A man rose from the circle of braves coming toward him, but it was not Kajika. Almost immediately Tyler recognized Eyota, chieftain of the Newe tribe of the Shoshone nation. Dyani's father. He approached, holding out his hands, and Tyler reached out to meet him in the traditional tribal greeting.