Randa ran to the door. Opening it, she looked out and exclaimed, "Oh my G.o.d! He's right! They're everywhere."

"Close the door," Samuel commanded. He squatted beside his wife, leaned over his son, and drew his knife.

"What are you fixin' to do?" Emala asked in wide-eyed horror.

"Suck the poison out like they do with cottonmouths." Samuel cut an X above the bite marks on Chickory's calf and pressed his mouth to the incision. Blood welled, and he sucked a mouthful and spat it out.

"What if you get poison in you?" Emala asked. "I've heard tell of that happenin'."

"Has to be done," Samuel said, and sucked another mouthful.

Emala clasped her hands to her bosom and raised her eyes to the roof. "Hear me, Lord. Spare my son. I pray you'll spare my husband, too. Save them from that awful venom. Don't take them away from me now, when we are startin' our new home."

"Hush, will you?" Samuel said, and sucked a third mouthful.

Appalled by his lack of courtesy, Emala said, "Don't be interrupin' me when I'm talkin' to the Lord. Do you want him mad at us?"

Randa came over and placed her hand on her brother's arm. "How do you feel?"

"How do you think I feel?" Chickory retorted. "I've just been bit by two rattlers. I'm dyin'."

Louisa King stayed calm. Turning her head, she called out, "Zach, I need you."

Zach put down the book and walked to the doorway. He thought maybe she wanted to go riding and needed him to saddle her horse. She could do it herself except he insisted on doing it for her. He was smiling to show he wasn't bothered by their little tiff. "What do you-" he began, and stopped, his breath catching in his throat at the sight he beheld: snakes, snakes and more snakes. From what he could see, most were rattlers. Several were near Lou's feet. Instantly he drew his tomahawk and his Bowie.

"Don't move. I'm coming for you."

Lou didn't argue. A large rattler was circling her as if it couldn't decide whether she was something it should bite. She recalled that not all bites were fatal, but even so, all that venom in her body wouldn't be good for the baby in her womb. "G.o.d, no," she said.

Zach counted six snakes near enough to her that they might strike if she moved. Clearing the threshold in a bound, he was among them. He arced the tomahawk at a thick neck. He sheared the Bowie at another. Spinning, he cleaved a viper just as it was coiling, slashed a fourth as the snake turned toward him. The largest and the nearest to her raised its ugly head and he severed the head from the body with a sideways swipe. The last turned to flee and he chopped it into three pieces with three swift cuts. Then he had Lou in his arms and was flying into the cabin and kicking the door shut behind them.

Lou clung to him. She had been terrified that he would be bitten. He was quick, so very, very quick, but there had been so many rattlers, she'd worried that even his speed might not have been enough. "Thank you," she breathed into his neck.

"I have some uses," Zach said.

"Never said you didn't." Lou kissed him. "You can put me down. I'm all right."

Zach placed her in a chair and went to the window. "There must be hundreds. Thousands, even."

Lou was thinking of something else. "Do you remember we heard a horse go by a while ago?"

Zach nodded.

"And then there was that shot. Do you think..." Lou didn't finish. The implication was obvious.

Zach turned. He mentally kicked himself for not going out and seeing who had ridden by; he had been lying in bed with Lou. "I doubt it was any of the Worths. They had no reason to be out and about so soon after the storm."

"Your mother or your father?"

"Ma or Pa would have stopped." Zach had a troubling thought. "Whoever it was, they were headed east toward Waku's lodge."

They looked at each other and both of them said at the same time, "Evelyn."

Zach was still holding his tomahawk and Bowie. He went to the door and paused with a finger on the latch. "Stay inside, you hear me? I won't brook an argument. If you won't do it for me or you won't do it for yourself, do it for the baby."

Lou nodded. "Don't worry." She stood and came over. "I wish you didn't have to."

"She's my sister."

"You're going without your rifle?" Lou nodded at the Hawken in the corner.

Zach hefted his edged weapons. "These are better. I can kill more, faster." He worked the latch.

"Be careful, darn you," Lou said anxiously, and kissed him hard on the mouth. "Our baby needs a pa."

"I don't aim to die." Zach smiled and slipped out and shut the door behind him.

Lou leaned her forehead against it and closed her eyes in dread. The thing was, there was no guarantee he wouldn't.

Nate jerked his Hawken to his shoulder and fired. The heavy ball hit smack in the center of the rattlesnake's head and the head exploded. The path to the lake was momentarily clear. He reloaded as he rode. He goaded the bay into the water, reined parallel with the sh.o.r.e, and brought it to a gallop. Winona was right behind him.

Nate was astounded at the number of snakes he saw and relieved that they didn't come near the lake. Rattlers could swim, but it was his understanding they only did so when pressed or after prey. Most of the time they fought shy of water. A lot of the snakes, he noticed, were crawling toward the forest to get out of the wet and the chill.

Moments like this, Nate almost regretted living in the wilderness. There was always something, always some new threat to deal with. He yearned for a spell of peace and quiet, a long spell where none of his family or his friends were in peril.

That was the crucial difference between the wilderness and civilization. People who lived in cities and towns and on farms back East could go their entire lives without anything to fear save old age. Oh, a wagon might roll over or a horse go down or they might come down with a disease, but for the most part their lives were peaceful.

The wilderness was anything but peaceful. It was a savage realm of fang and claw where the only true peace was the peace of the grave. Yet G.o.d help him, Nate loved it. Not the savagery, but the freedom that came from living without laws and rules. The only restraints were those he imposed on himself.

It was freedom in its purest sense, and more precious to him than the security of civilized society.

A long time ago, when the children were small, Nate had asked Winona if she would rather live east of the Mississippi where there were fewer dangers. She had stopped sewing and looked at him with that special look of hers and said that danger had always been part of her existence. She couldn't let fear of it rule her. Life was for living, not hiding.

"Husband! Look!"

Nate came out of his reverie. They were on the north side of the lake. Ahead was his son's cabin. Lou was at the window, waving her arms.

"We should stop!" Winona called.

Reluctantly, Nate slowed. He would only take a minute and be on his way. Whoever had fired that shot might need help. Any delay could prove fatal.

Chapter Seventeen.

Snakes were all over her.

Evelyn held herself still and clenched her fists and bit her lower lip so hard she drew a drop of blood, all in an effort to keep from screaming and flailing. Serpents were on her arms, her chest, her head. She never knew when one might sense she was a threat and attack.

The sorrel stopped breathing. A last gasp, its tongue lolled from its mouth, and it was gone.

Evelyn would have wept if she wasn't so afraid. Here she had always thought of herself as somewhat brave. She'd faced buffalo and bears and an alligator once and survived people trying to kill her, and none of that filled her with the fear and loathing this did. Having snake after snake crawl over her, having their bodies brush her clothes and rub her skin-she could barely stand it.

Their number became fewer and fewer until at long last she had none on her. She hoped that was the end of them, that they had all gone into the woods, but she was mistaken.

Out of the pool came five more, some of the biggest yet, crawling slowly but inexorably toward her and the poor sorrel.

"Please, no," Evelyn pleaded, and squeezed her eyes tight shut. Maybe if she didn't watch them it wouldn't affect her as much. She heard them, though, heard the sc.r.a.pe of scales on cloth and a hiss. One crawled onto her arm. Her natural reaction was to jerk her arm away, but she commanded herself not to move. The snake wriggled onto her chest, and stopped.

Evelyn almost sobbed. She waited for it to move on and when it didn't, she cracked her eyelids. The thing was huge, as thick around as her pa's arm. Its head was a few inches from her face and it was flicking its tongue as if testing the air. Keep going, she mentally begged. Please keep going.

The rattler didn't move. It looked around and then lay back down with its lower jaw on her shoulder.

Dear G.o.d, Evelyn thought. It was resting on her. It must like how warm her body was after the cold of the water. She suppressed an impulse to shudder. She mustn't so much as twitch. But how long could she stay still? Evelyn asked herself. Her nerves were raw. She was frayed to where she might lose control. Please, she prayed, make it go away.

The rattler started to coil. She tensed, expecting it to attack, but no, it coiled in on itself and lay on her chest with its head on top of its coils. It wasn't going anywhere. It might stay on her for the rest of the day, for all she knew.

Evelyn couldn't take it. She just couldn't. She knew that if she screamed or she moved it would make the snake mad, but her need to get it off overwhelmed her reason. Torn from her innermost being, ripped from her against her will, a keening shriek burst from her lips. Simultaneously, she swatted at the snake with all her might and sent it tumbling onto the ground. For a span of heartbeats she felt sheer elation. It was off her! She was safe!

A hiss shattered the illusion.

Evelyn twisted her head.

The rattler had coiled and its tail was buzzing like a hundred angry hornets. Its baleful eyes fixed on her and it poised to strike.

Zach King stood at the rear corner of his cabin, his Bowie in his left hand, his tomahawk in his right. Before him were puddles and pools teeming with snakes. Many of the reptiles were making for the trees. If he waited a while, the sh.o.r.e would be clear, but he couldn't shake a persistent feeling that his sister was in trouble. He must get to her quickly.

Taking a deep breath, Zach bounded forward. He vaulted a viper, skirted another. A thick one reared in his path and he separated its head from its body. To the right was a clear s.p.a.ce. A few steps, and he jumped over several rattlers entwined together. He tried not to think of how many there were. He tried not to dwell on the consequences of being bitten. He thought only of Evelyn, and of not letting anything stop him from reaching her.

The next stretch was clear of water and almost clear of rattlers. He ran faster. Well to the east a mound caught his eye, a mound where none had been before. He couldn't quite make out what it was and he couldn't keep staring at it with snakes to watch out for.

A lot of small pools and puddles appeared, pools and puddles writhing with serpents.

Zach stopped. It would be easier to go around. He turned toward the lake and glanced at the strange mound again-and his pulse quickened. He had realized what it was; a horse, on its side. And when he squinted he could make out a part of a saddle.

"Evelyn," Zach said, and flew toward it. He didn't care that there were rattlesnakes in his path. He didn't see his sister and that meant she must be down, too, and nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to stop him from reaching her. He slashed a rattler, sidestepped, cut another, took several long bounds and cleared a moving rug of scaly death. He landed, swung, rent a reptilian head, spun, chopped another in half and was in motion even as the blow landed.

He didn't dare stop, didn't dare relax, didn't dare relent. He must stay on the move so he was harder to bite. Speed and reflexes, they were the key. He mustn't think. He mustn't worry about Evelyn. He hacked. He cut. Always in motion, always slicing. There were so many snakes. So very many. For every serpent he slew there were ten more.

A big one with green markings lashed at his foot. He jumped and struck as he alighted, his tomahawk splitting its skull as neatly as a butcher knife split red meat. Then he was on the move again, running, jumping, dodging, evading. He was closer to the horse, but he couldn't look at it. Not yet. Not until he was there.

More rattlers bared his way. Those heading for the forest paid no attention to him unless he came near them and then most hissed and a few coiled, but they didn't attack. He cleared a knot of ten or more and in front of him were a pair of thick ones, one on his right and the other on his left, big and coiled and their tails buzzing chorus. Both struck at his legs and Zach leaped straight up as high as he could leap. The two snakes flashed under his moccasins. He came down on top of them, slamming his right foot on the neck of the one and his left foot onto the head of the other. Instantly he speared the Bowie in and drove the tomahawk down. Then he was off and running, jumping, spinning.

I'm coming, Evelyn, he thought. I'm coming for you.

Chickory Worth couldn't understand it. He had been biten twice. The bites hurt like the d.i.c.kens. But he was still breathing. Even more amazing, except for where he'd been bitten, he didn't feel anything. He wasn't numb or tingly or itchy or in much pain.

Emala had her hands clasped to her bosom and was rocking on her knees and praying at the top of her lungs. Tears trickled down her cheeks. "Hear me, Lord. I beg you. Spare him. He's my only boy. Don't let him die by no serpents. Serpents are Satan's brood and the Bible says that those who have faith are proof against their poison."

"Please, Ma," Chickory said.

Emala raised her hands over her head. "I pray my faith is true. I pray you will heal him. I pray for your blessin' in this as I pray for your blessin' in all there is. Please, Lord, help us."

Samuel had stopped sucking and was sitting with his hands propped behind him. Spittle glistened on his lower lip and chin. "I don't know as I got it all out, but I tried my best, Son."

"I know you did, Pa."

Randa hunkered and examined Chickory's leg. "There's no swellin' yet. I think I heard they swell sometimes."

"How do you feel?" Samuel asked.

"Except for where they bit, I feel fine. I don't feel nothin'."

"Nothin'?"

"Not a thing, Pa. It could be you got all the poison out. It could be you saved my life."

"Or it could be there wasn't any poison to begin with," Samuel said. "I didn't taste any. But then, I ain't exactly sure what snake poison tastes like."

"I was bit," Chickory said.

"Sure you were. But Nate King told me that rattlers don't always..." Samuel stopped. "What was the word he used? Oh. Yes. Rattlers don't always inject their poison. Sometimes they just bite and that's all."

"Please hear me, G.o.d!" Emala wailed. "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. Unto thee, oh Lord, do I lift up my soul. I will praise thee, oh Lord, with all my heart. Have mercy upon me, oh Lord. Have mercy upon my son."

"Emala," Samuel said.

"Hearken unto the voice of my cry, my King and my G.o.d, for unto thee will I pray. My voice shalt thou hear in the mornin', oh Lord."

"Emala?"

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table-"

Samuel gripped her arm. "Stop your caterwaulin' and listen to me, woman."

Emala opened her eyes and recoiled as if he had slapped her. "Did you just call my prayin' caterwaulin'?"

"He's all right."

"Here I am, tryin' the best I know how to persuade the Lord to help us, and you go and blaspheme." Emala shrugged off his hand. "You're beginnin' to worry me, Samuel Worth. You truly are. Don't you give a fig about your eternal soul?"

"Chickory is all right."