Wilderness double editio.., p.26
Wilderness Double Edition 18, page 26
Trent and Culo chortled, which incensed Duke Alonzo even more. Alonzo began to turn toward the Wallanchian soldiers but froze when the tall young man in the blue uniform finally interjected a comment.
“That will be quite enough.”
The change that came over the duke was remarkable. His anger evaporated like morning dew under a hot sun and his mouth curled in an oily, placating smile. “My humblest apologies, Prince. I meant no offense. It’s just that this ruffian told me—”
The younger man held up a hand for silence. “I know what he said, my dear duke. I am not hard of hearing.” He was every inch the gallant: handsome, broad-shouldered, with clear blue eyes and a finely chiseled complexion, his peaked cap worn at a rakish slant. A holstered pistol was on his left hip, a saber with a bejeweled hilt on his right. Kneeing his big bay up alongside Snowcap, he extended a gloved hand. “I believe this is the custom in your land, is it not? I am Prince Ariel Ferdinand, eldest son of King Ferdinand, ruler of Wallanchia, and heir apparent to the royal throne. At your service, sir.”
Shakespeare took an immediate liking to the youngster, who couldn’t be much older than Miranda. “That’s quite a fancy title you have there, sprout,” he said, shaking. “But you still put your britches on one leg at a time like the rest of us.”
Duke Alonzo sputtered and dropped a hand to his flintlock. “No one talks to the prince in so cavalier a fashion. You will show him the courtesy that is his rightful due.”
“Viktor, please,” Prince Ferdinand said. “The man meant no offense. As I have repeatedly tried to make plain, in this country I do not merit special treatment. In America all men are commoners.”
Duke Alonzo scrunched up his mouth as if about to spit. “Nobility isn’t a garment we shed when we step beyond Wallanchia’s borders. We are noble by birth, noble by right, and should be accorded the treatment we deserve in any land we visit.”
Prince Ferdinand tilted his head to regard the afternoon sun.
“I would converse with Mr. McNair awhile. Have the men dismount and stand down.”
“We will lose valuable time, your highness,” Duke Alonzo protested. “According to our scouts, we’re close to our quarry. I urge you to reconsider.”
“You’re the one who insists I exercise my royal prerogatives,” Prince Ferdinand said, dismounting. “So consider it an order, not a request. We will move out again in fifteen minutes.” He faced Shakespeare. “That is, if you do not mind.”
Smiling, Shakespeare slid to the ground. “It beats getting saddle sores, youngster.” The remark earned another barbed glance from the duke, which he ignored. “What is it you’d like to jaw about?”
Prince Ferdinand removed his hat and mopped a sleeve across his forehead. He had lustrous curly hair neatly clipped around the ears. “Trent and Culo tell me you are one of the oldest mountain men alive. You must possess a wealth of information about these mountains.”
Duke Alonzo had swung his sorrel toward the column and was bawling orders in his native tongue. In unison, the twenty-three soldiers swung their legs from their horses and alighted, standing stiffly at attention until the duke bawled another command. Six hustled forward to ring the prince, arms at the ready, while the rest were permitted to relax.
Shakespeare wagged a hand at the guards. “Do they watch over you when you’re taking a bath, too?”
The young prince clapped a thigh and laughed. “They would, I expect, were I to indulge them. But certain functions should be private.” He indicated a flat boulder. “Have a seat. I’m eager to pick your brain.”
“What makes you so certain I have one?” Shakespeare didn’t much care for how Trent and Culo were hovering within earshot, but he didn’t make an issue of it.
“Living here as long as you have, you must have heard of the young woman we seek and the giant who attends her.”
A logical assumption, but a wrong one. “I don’t associate with emigrants much,” Shakespeare said. “For the past ten years or so I’ve pretty much kept to myself. Except to visit a few close friends and spend time with my wife’s people, I rarely get out.”
“Trent mentioned your wife is a Flathead.”
“He’s a regular blabbermouth,” Shakespeare said, only half in jest. “She’s visiting her tribe at the moment. I’m up here after elk. We need to stock up on meat before the cold weather sets in.”
“So you haven’t seen the girl or the giant?” Prince Ferdinand said.
Shakespeare hated having to lie, but it was for the best. “Can’t say as I have, no.” He encompassed the regal peaks to the west with a sweep of his arm. “This is mighty big country. Ever hear of a needle in the haystack? Those two people you’re after could be anywhere between here and the Great Salt Lake. You might as well head on back to civilization.”
“Three people, in point of fact,” Prince Ferdinand said, staring at the ground. “The identity of the giant is a mystery, but the young woman might be Countess Miranda Prospero. Her father, Count Stephen Prospero, fled our homeland in disgrace after being caught pilfering funds intended for the king.” The prince looked up and wistfully mentioned, “Miranda was my favorite playmate when I was barely old enough to walk. I missed her sorely when they left.”
Shakespeare saw something flicker deep in the depths of the younger man’s eyes. “Is that why you came along on this hunting expedition? In the hope of seeing her again?”
“The thought did occur to me,” Ferdinand admitted. “That, and my father required it of me.”
“And you say her pa stole some money?” Shakespeare wasn’t all that fond of the uppity count, but he couldn’t accept that Prospero was a crook.
“He diverted tax money to fill his own coffers,” Prince Ferdinand clarified. “Or so a charge was levied, and so the evidence confirmed.” As he said it, he cast a hard look at Duke Viktor Alonzo.
Playing a hunch, Shakespeare inquired, “Was it the duke, there, who made the claim?”
“Duke Alonzo was Count Prospero’s superior at the time, yes,” Prince Ferdinand said. “Alonzo became suspicious when the tax revenues from Prospero’s province were lower than they should be for three years running. He uncovered incriminating records that implicated the count. Word was sent to the king, who ordered Prospero taken into custody while an investigation was conducted. But somehow Prospero received word that troops were coming for him, and he fled to your country with his three year-old daughter.”
“Who would be eighteen along about now, I take it,” Shakespeare remarked.
“She is five years younger than I am,” Prince Ferdinand said. “I have often wondered what happened to her. Whether she was devoured by wild beasts or fell prey to hostile Indians or suffered some other horrible end.” He kicked at the dirt with a polished boot. “Her father should never have forced her to accompany him. He recklessly placed her in extreme danger. I can forgive the embezzling of funds, but never that.”
“What will happen to them if you find them?”
“Count Prospero is to be escorted back to Wallanchia to stand formal trial. His daughter will become my father’s ward and reside at court with us.”
Shakespeare remembered what Count Prospero had told him. “You’re not going to shoot them on the spot?”
“Heavens, no,” Prince Ferdinand said, replacing his cap. “What do you take us for? In Wallanchia the rule of law prevails. We are a monarchy, but an enlightened monarchy. No man can be brought to trial without due cause, and all sentences are subject to appeal to the king, who may overturn any he feels isn’t just.”
“That’s convenient,” Shakespeare said.
Ferdinand straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. “I will ask you one last time, Mr. McNair. Have you seen Miranda Prospero or her giant companion?”
“Not in the last ten minutes, no,” Shakespeare said, grinning, and stepped toward the mare. “If I do, I’ll be sure to tell them you’re looking for them.” He saw the prince nod at the duke, who in turn snapped his fingers at the six soldiers. Suddenly he found himself staring down the muzzles of six rifles. “What the hell is this?” he demanded, halting.
Trent and Culo were guffawing at his expense.
Prince Ferdinand said tiredly, “I am sorry to detain you, Mr. McNair, but you have not been entirely honest with us. Tell him, Viktor.”
“Gladly, your highness.” Duke Alonzo strutted up, his thumbs hooked in his black leather belt. “You lied to us, American. Not two nights ago, the giant paid your cabin a visit. Not two mornings ago, you and your wife rode out after him.”
Shakespeare didn’t need to ask how they knew.
Trent was smirking to beat all hollow. “You see, old man, there’s a few things we didn’t tell you. For instance, last year, the morning after that gal paid our wagon train a visit, Culo went on with the greenhorns while I tracked the pretty miss and her big pard until I lost their sign about ten miles north of here. I got me a real good gander at that giant feller’s tracks. And you know what?” When Shakespeare didn’t take the bait, he went on. “His tracks were just like a whole mess of tracks we found near your cabin.”
Not to be outdone, Culo bragged, “We tracked your missus and you up into the woods east of here, and saw where you had a lick of trouble. One of your horses ran off. And that giant, he carted off your woman.”
“Your wife’s dun made it to your cabin, by the way,” Trent said. “Lathered to a frazzle.”
Duke Alonzo poked Shakespeare in the chest. “Your lies have availed you naught, American. You are hiding something, and we want to know what it is.”
“Please, Mr. McNair,” Prince Ferdinand said. “I dislike resorting to force, but you leave me no choice.”
“Is this what you meant by an enlightened monarchy?” Shakespeare baited him, and was roundly slapped by the duke. He balled his fists to retaliate, but transformed into stone when six rifle hammers clicked.
“Suit yourself,” Duke Alonzo said, relieving Shakespeare of the Hawken and both pistols. “You are coming with us whether you want to or not.”
“And any bloodshed that results will be on your shoulders,” Prince Ferdinand added.
Nine
Blue Water Woman and Miranda Prospero were seated on the lip of the pool in the cavern. Miranda was staring at her reflection and idly swirling the tip of a slender finger in the water. Neither had said much since they returned from the ledge. Blue Water Woman figured her new-found friend was too worried about what would happen should the Wallanchian soldiers find her and her father to be in a talkative mood. For her part, Blue Water Woman was concerned for Carcajou. Shakespeare had a glib tongue and could talk rings around most people, but his plan to persuade the Wallanchians to call off the hunt, or, failing that, to divert them to a different area, was a tall order.
“I’m sorry about our meal,” Miranda softly remarked. “We’ll have to postpone it until this whole business is over.”
“I can wait,” Blue Water Woman said, but the young woman did not seem to hear.
“We couldn’t even if we wanted to,” Miranda went on. “Kaliban never brought us the meat we needed. And now he’s keeping watch.”
Thinking to ease the young woman’s spirits, Blue Water Woman changed the subject. “You like him a lot, don’t you?”
Miranda stopped swirling the water, and brightened. “Kaliban? I know some would say he is hideous, but to me he has a heart as gentle as a lamb’s. We could never have survived without him. He’s been with us since the year we arrived.”
“That long?”
“He found us the day after a mountain lion jumped us. My father was saddling up one morning when it sprang on our pack horse. One blow of its paw and it broke her neck. Then it crouched and snarled at us.” Miranda shuddered at the childhood recollection. “My father couldn’t get to his guns, so he grabbed me and jumped on his horse and we took off out of there as if the forest were on fire. We went about a mile, when his horse stepped into a rut and went down. We were both thrown hard. I was unhurt, but the horse rolled over my father, crushing both his legs.”
Blue Water Woman thought of the skeleton and the saddle, and the gem she had dropped when the low limb knocked her off Snowcap. “It must have been a terrible experience for someone your age.”
Miranda nodded. “I was so scared. So very scared. I couldn’t move my father. We had no weapons. The horse couldn’t get back up and just lay there whinnying. We were there a whole day. Then the mountain lion showed up.”
“The same one that killed your packhorse?”
“I think so. I saw it slinking toward us early in the evening, its tail twitching, and I screamed for my father to do something, but he was weak from loss of blood and fever and couldn’t lift a finger.” Miranda shuddered again. “I thought I was done for. I honestly and truly did. The cat couldn’t have been more than ten feet away when something flew out of the brush and pounced on it. Kaliban had been passing by and heard my screams. He lifted the mountain lion over his head as if it weighed no more than a blade of grass, then cracked the cat’s spine over his knee.”
“Were you afraid of him?”
“Not then, not ever.” Miranda grinned. “Back then he didn’t wear a bear hide, only buckskins. Yet I was so grateful for what he did, I ran up and hugged him. I think it shocked him.” She giggled girlishly. “I was the first human being who wasn’t scared of him. Thank God I was only three. If I had been older, I might have done like everyone else.”
“He is very loyal to you,” Blue Water Woman mentioned.
“Just like a brother, yes,” Miranda said.
Blue Water Woman suspected there might be more to it than that, but she refrained from saying so. “Was it he who brought you and your father here?”
“Yes. Kaliban carried my father and me, both, and tended my father until he was well enough to sit up and feed himself. It was father who later suggested Kaliban wear a hooded robe.” Miranda lowered her voice as if confiding a secret. “My father never could get used to Kaliban’s face.” She sighed. “My poor, sweet Kaliban.”
“Your father did a fine thing teaching him sign talk,” Blue Water Woman commented.
“More out of necessity than anything else,” Miranda said. “Father had been frustrated because we couldn’t communicate with him. Out of desperation he tried sign language. Once we realized how smart Kaliban truly is, we taught him to understand English and Wallanchian and some French.” Her gaze roamed over the cavern. “It helped while away the hours. All those long months and years.”
Blue Water Woman had been wondering about something. “Why is it you use English more than you use your own tongue?”
“Again, that was father’s doing. He’s quite the linguist, so I could speak English quite well by the time I was six. He had me use it all the time.” Miranda mimicked her father’s tone and inflection. “You are in America now, daughter, and you must talk as Americans do. One day you must go out among them, mingle with them, be one of them, and I want you to be ready.” Miranda pursed her lips. “Fifteen years, and we’re still here,” she concluded regretfully.
“When this is over, why not bring your father and Kaliban to our cabin for a visit?” Blue Water Woman proposed. “We would love to have you as our guests for a while.” She included the count since she doubted Miranda would come without him.
Miranda’s teeth flashed white. “Oh, I would love that! We never go anywhere, never visit anyone.” She leaned forward. “Now and then I like to sneak off and spy on neighboring Indian villages. Kaliban always guides me. He has a real knack for finding them.” She paused. “I’ll lie off in the bushes and watch the people for hours. Especially the women and the girls. I miss the companionship of my own kind.” She gave Blue Water Woman’s wrist a squeeze. “I can’t tell you how much it has meant to me to make your acquaintance.”
“It’s settled, then. As soon as the soldiers leave.”
“The soldiers,” Miranda said, and dropped to a whisper. “Did you see the one in blue? Wasn’t he handsome? Something about him made me feel I might know him, but how can that be? I was much too young when we fled Wallanchia to remember anyone. The only reason the incident with the mountain lion sticks in my memory, I suspect, is that I was so afraid.”
“The man in blue is handsome,” Blue Water Woman allowed. Miranda scooted closer and glanced toward the living area. “Can we talk, woman to woman?”
“Certainly.”
“I find myself thinking of men a lot of late. When I visit wagon trains on the Oregon Trail, I catch myself admiring the better-looking ones. Especially those who are about my own age.” Miranda blushed as she spoke. “I am becoming a shameless hussy.”
Blue Water Woman laughed. “No, you are just like every other woman. There comes a time in our lives when against our better judgment we are drawn to men like a she-bear is drawn to honey.”
“But my father says proper ladies don’t do such things. He says ladies don’t give rein to their baser passions.”
“What does he know? He is a man.” Blue Water Woman patted the younger woman’s hand. “Trust me. One female to another. The feelings you have, every woman has. The hunger you feel, every woman feels. It is as normal and natural as breathing, and it doesn’t make you any less a lady.”
Relief and anxiety waged conflict on Miranda’s features. “I would like to believe you. But in the back of my mind is a tiny voice—”
“Your father’s voice.”
“—telling me I must be prim and proper and never make the mistake so many other women make.” Miranda morosely folded her arms across her bosom. “It tears me up inside sometimes. There are moments when I just want to scream.”
“When that happens, take a few deep breaths and count to ten. Or do what I always did and go for long, quiet walks.”
Miranda smiled. “You are very wise. Did you give the same advice to your daughter?”
An old ache filled Blue Water Woman. “I don’t have one. I always wanted a big family with eight or nine children, but it was not meant to be. Sometimes life denies us that which we desire most.”
