Starfish_ A Novel - James Crowley [11]
“Who asked you anything?” Big Bull said, throwing a second salted ham hock at Corn Poe. It hit him in the head and fell to the snow. But Corn Poe eagerly picked it up and began to gnaw at it much like his father and the circle of dogs at their feet.
“‘Us Blackfeet,’ he says, you little half-breeded idjit,” Big Bull added.
Lionel just looked at the bone.
“Hell, you two will freeze or starve before them soldier boys get ya, I’ll bet,” Corn Poe said with the bone clutched in his teeth.
Lionel thought about the Frozen Man. He thought about his own feet and his cold, aching toes.
“None of that is of no worry to you,” Beatrice said with a gentle nudge to Ulysses’s flank. The horse turned toward the side of the house, and Beatrice dug in her heels to continue their journey north.
“Well, you’re headin’ in the right direction. Just edge away from the sun till just passed midday and you’ll hit the Milk. But you best be advised not to bring no troubles onto your grandfather, if he is truly kin to ya.”
Beatrice didn’t look back.
“And when you’re caught and strung up, you didn’t hear none of that from me!” Big Bull laughed.
Lionel looked back to the cabin and the Boss Ribs. The whole family was now outside, standing in front of the house staring at them.
“Remember that you didn’t hear none from me….” Big Bull’s voice trailed off as the two rounded the back of the house. “And if them soldiers ask, I’ve got a family to worry about, so I’ll be sure to tell ’em you were headin’ to the Milk!”
Big Bull’s laugh continued to echo from the house as they rode on and out of the Boss Ribs’ little valley.
Chapter Seven
A FOLLOWER • KNIFE FIGHT • INTRODUCTIONS
BEATRICE AND Lionel rode north for most of the afternoon, edging toward the west and the afternoon sun. Beatrice didn’t say much, so they rode in silence, pondering what Big Bull had said about bringing trouble down onto their grandfather. Lionel knew that they hadn’t eaten in over a day and a half now, and that Big Bull was right; another night or two out in the cold and they would more than likely end up like the Frozen Man.
Lionel noticed that Beatrice looked behind them more frequently than she had before.
“What is it, Beatrice?” Lionel asked, following her gaze to the deserted horizon.
“I think somebody is following us.” Beatrice pulled Ulysses around, and they made a wide circle back in the direction they had just come. They rode to a low depression in the rolling hills and were soon wading through the four feet of snow that the wind had swept into this little wash. Beatrice pulled up on the horse and slipped silently from his back.
“You stay here. If you hear anything, don’t wait for me. You ride hard and don’t stop till you hit the river. You understand?”
“Don’t wait? where are you going, Beatrice?” But Beatrice was gone.
Lionel sat with his hands on the warmth of Ulysses’s flanks. He felt like crying, but thought that Beatrice hadn’t cried, and she was just as hungry, just as cold, and she sure hadn’t cried when the man with the patch cracked her head on the ice or when the priest ripped her ear.
Lionel circled Ulysses around to face the mountains that loomed in the distance. They were so big they seemed to stand right before them, but Lionel knew better. If that was where they were going, they were in for a long ride.
Suddenly Ulysses’s ears shot back. He flared his nostrils.
“What is it? You hear something?” Then Lionel heard it too. It sounded like someone or something was moving in the snow at the top of the gully.
“Beatrice? Beatrice, is that you?” Lionel was shivering.
He turned the horse and saw someone running straight at him. The movement startled Ulysses, who jumped sideways and out from underneath Lionel. Lionel landed in the snow. This time when he looked up to the top of the gully he could see Beatrice. She was closing in on the runner.
“Help! Help!” the runner screamed, but there was no one to come to his aid. Beatrice tackled the runner, and the two rolled to the bottom