"The Lord don't like blasphemin'. It says so right in the Bible. He'll forgive a heap of things but not that. You'd best get on your knees and beg him to forgive you or-" Emala blinked. "What did you say?"

"Our son is fine."

"He is?" Emala turned to Chickory, new tears shimmering in her eyes. "Is that true? The poison isn't makin' you turn all blue and choke on your tongue?"

"The bites sting some, is all," Chickory answered. "But I'm breathin' fine."

"Land sakes." Emala grasped Samuel's arm and nearly jerked him off balance. "Do you know what this is?"

"We were lucky," Samuel said.

Emala vigorously shook her head. "None are so blind as those that won't see. Luck had nothin' to do with it." She reverently put her hand on Chickory's calf and said in awe, "This was a miracle."

"What?" Samuel said.

"You heard me. A miracle. Just like in the Bible when Jesus healed the sick and Moses parted the Red Sea." Emala ran her fingers over the bites as if caressing them. "Our very own miracle right here in our family. That I should live to see somethin' so wondrous."

"The snakes only bit him, is all," Samuel explained.

"Of course they bit him. I can see the holes."

"No. I mean they bit him, but they didn't get their poison into him," Samuel said. "Haven't you been payin' attention? That's why he's not dyin'."

"He's not dyin' because the Lord heard my prayer." Emala raised her arms on high. "We must give thanks. When we go to church we-" She stopped and her eyes widened. "Glory be. I just realized. We don't have a church to go to."

"Ministers don't come to the Rockies," Samuel said. "I doubt there will be a church hereabouts for a hundred years or better."

"We can't have that," Emala said. "We need a house of worship. I bet if we had one, the Kings and the McNairs would come and maybe those Nansusequas if we asked them real nice, even if they are heathens."

"But we don't have one, so why bring it up?"

"We don't have one now, but we will." Emala beamed and nodded. "We're going to build one."

"What?" Samuel said.

"What?" Randa echoed.

"You heard me," Emala declared.

Chickory groaned and put his hand on his leg as if the pain had made him do it.

"Listen to yourself, woman," Samuel scoffed. "You can't just build your own church."

"It wouldn't be just for me," Emala said. "It'd be for everyone. Since there's not a lot of us, it wouldn't need to be big. We could even add a room to our cabin and have it be the church."

"Are you sure you weren't the one snakebit?"

Emala bristled like a kicked porcupine. "Samuel Worth, you don't fool me. You don't want to have to go to church every Sunday. You were a shirker back on the plantation and you are a shirker still."

"You better ask Mr. King what he thinks."

"I don't need to ask Mr. King. I have my answer right here." Emala patted Chickory's leg. "The Lord himself has given us a sign."

"The snake bite?"

"The miracle. It's the Lord's way of showing us we're all under his care and we shouldn't forget him just because we're in the middle of nowhere without a church."

Samuel stared.

"Why are you lookin' at me like that? I'm right and you know it. King Valley needs a house of worship. Maybe we can have a bell hauled in and every Sunday morning Chickory can ring it to call everyone together." Emala couldn't wait. "It'll be marvelous. We'll have pews and a pulpit and we'll even get our hands on hymn books."

"What about a minister?" Samuel brought up. "Where do you expect to find one out here in the middle of nowhere, as you called it."

"That's easy," Emala said. "One of us will have to take charge of the services, and there's only one person in this whole valley who's qualified."

"Mr. McNair?" Randa said.

"No, silly." Emala laughed with delight. "Me."

Chickory gripped his leg and groaned louder.

Evelyn King stared death in its reptilian face. The rattlesnake had reared to strike. She'd heard tell that rattlers didn't open their mouths until the moment they struck, but this one did, baring its lethal fangs. A drop of venom fell from each one. She went to fling up her arm when there was a flash of light and the viper's head plopped to the ground. There was another flash and another and pieces of the snake joined the head. A buckskin-clad figure blotted out the sun and a hand gently touched her cheek.

"I'm here, little sister," Zach said.

Evelyn gripped his hand and held it to her cheek and closed her eyes and held back tears.

"There are more coming."

Evelyn let go and Zach stepped over her and put himself between her and the snakes. In one hand was his gore-spattered tomahawk, in the other his gore-spattered Bowie. Both weapons became blurs. She lost count of how many he killed, marveling the whole while at how quick he was, and how unerring his aim.

Evelyn knew that her brother was widely feared by whites and red men alike, and seeing him now, as he hacked and split and cut every rattlesnake that came near her, it wasn't hard to see why. She would never say it to his face, but Zach was a natural-born killer. For long minutes he proved her right. Then, at last, he straightened and wearily turned.

"That was the last of them."

Evelyn burst into tears. Tears of relief and joy combined. She cried quietly until she was drained and couldn't shed another drop. Sniffling, she dabbed at her nose with her sleeve. "I must look a sight."

Zach chuckled. "You're sort of cute with snot all over your face."

Despite herself, Evelyn laughed.

Zach set down the tomahawk and Bowie and pushed at the saddle. "When I get this high enough, do you think you can pull your leg out?"

"I'll try," Evelyn said. "But I can't feel anything. For all I know, it's broken."

"Let's try." Zach squatted and slid his arms as far under the sorrel as he could and grit his teeth and strained. His face grew red and his shoulders and neck bulged.

Evelyn braced herself on her elbows. The pressure eased slightly and she pulled. Her leg slid an inch or so, and no farther. She tried harder and finally shook her head and said, "It's not working."

"d.a.m.n." Zach eased off and draped his forearms over his knees. "I need help."

At that juncture hooves pounded and a big bay came to a halt and a giant form vaulted down.

"Pa!" Evelyn squealed.

Nate King was a study in concern. He looked from his daughter to his son and back again. "Are both of you all right?" He stared at Evelyn. "You?"

"We're fine, Pa. I can't get loose, though."

"You will now." Nate squatted and said to Zach, "When I lift, you pull her out."

"You don't want me to help you?"

"No need, Son."

Evelyn had long known her father was immensely strong, but even she was amazed when he slid his hands under the horse as Zach had done and his shoulders and neck swelled and the weight came off her. Zach took hold under her arms and eased her out from under and when she was clear he said, "She's out, Pa. You did it."

Nate examined her leg. "It doesn't appear to be broken. Can you move it any?"

"Give me a minute." Evelyn was tingling from her hips to her toes. From the flow of blood being restored, she reckoned. It almost tickled. She wriggled her toes. "The feeling is coming back."

Zach glanced at the forest. "Where did all those snakes come from? I never imagined there were so many."

"A den somewhere," Nate said. "We may never know exactly where. The rain brought them out, I suspect."

"Will they go back to it or find another?"

"I don't know." Nate indicated his bay. "I want you to ride to Waku's and then to Shakespeare's and tell them to come as fast as they can to your cabin. Your mother is there with Lou. We're going to have another snake hunt and kill as many as we can before they find cover."

Zach nodded and collected his tomahawk and Bowie. A lithe swing, and he was up and away.

"Why not let them be?" Evelyn asked. "They never did anything like this before. It was the rain that brought them out. You said so yourself."

"You can say that after what you've just been through?"

"It wasn't their fault, Pa. They were just doing what snakes do."

"They were being true to their nature, yes," Nate said. "So is a hungry griz when it charges you, but you would have me shoot the griz, I bet."

"That's different."

"The more rattlers there are, the higher the chance that someday you'll go out to the chicken coop or around to the corral and almost step on one and get bit." Nate shook his head. "I won't have that. I won't let the threat exist. Do you understand?"

"I suppose." Evelyn let herself sink down onto her back. Her ordeal had exhausted her. Suddenly arms were under her, lifting her off the ground. In surprise she blurted, "What are you doing?"

"Taking you to Zach's so your mother and Lou can tend you." Nate strode west, his Hawken in his left hand.

"You don't need to carry me," Evelyn protested. "Give me a few minutes and I'll be able to walk."

"You're soaked clean through and your clothes are a mess and you have snake blood all over you," Nate said. "You need a hot bath and a cup of your mother's healing tea." He looked down at her and grinned. "Besides, Dega will be here soon. Do you really want him to see you looking like this?"

Evelyn hadn't thought of that. "Walk faster," she said. It felt good being in her father's strong arms. He hadn't picked her up in years, not since she went from being a girl to a young woman. She placed her cheek on his chest and looped her arms around his neck. "Thanks, Pa."

"For what?"

"For you and Ma always being there for me."

"Zach, too. Don't forget your brother."

Evelyn saw him again in her mind's eye, the Grim Reaper of rattlers, laying waste right and left to save her from harm. "I love him, too. Don't ever tell him that, though." She gazed out over the lake, bright now in the reborn sun. "You know something? I'm happy here."

"I hope so. It's your home."

"It is, isn't it?" Evelyn snuggled against him. She was feeling sleepy. "Remember when I'd had enough of life in the wild and wanted to go off and live in a city?"

"I remember it well."

"I've changed my mind. Here is as good as anywhere. I think I'll stay for as long as you'll have me."

"That would be forever," Nate said, and pecked her on the forehead.

Evelyn closed her eyes. She was close to drifting off. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you. You and Ma, both. I guess now is as good a time as any."

"About Dega?" Nate said.

Evelyn jerked her head up. "You know about him and me?"

"We've known for some time."

"And you don't mind? You didn't say anything. You didn't try to stop me from seeing him."

"Why would we? Your mother wasn't much older than you when I courted her."

Evelyn smiled and kissed him on the cheek and hugged him. "Thanks, Pa. Thanks for caring so much and being so understanding and all."

"It's what fathers do," Nate King said.

Author's Note.

Several of the entries in Nate King's journal are regarded by some as tall tales. His account of the "hairy creatures," for instance, related in an earlier book, and again, his experiences with the NunumBi.

The author brings this up because there are a few who think that Nate's account of the "snake invasion," as a herpetologist called it, is another of those tall tales.