Fear Weaver by David Thompson Read Free Book Online Page B

along with a flood of blood, now dry.
    “Dead five or six sleeps, at least,” Small Otter guessed.
    Black Elk leaned down as low as he could to examine the cow elk. “I have never seen a kill like this. See these bite marks? Where something has chewed meat off the rib bone? What animal bites like that?”
    None of them could say. They rode on, their bows strung and shafts notched. The stillness of the forest was unnatural, the quiet absolute. The dense ranks of trees could hide a multitude of enemies.
    “There are ghosts here, I tell you,” Small Otter whispered.
    A stream gurgled to their right, but they couldn’t see it. Once Black Elk thought he glimpsed a flicker of movement. He didn’t like this place, but he didn’t tell the others. Mad Wolf and Double Walker would tease him as they teased Small Otter about ghosts.
    The smell of smoke grew stronger even as the cliffs seemed to grow higher. When they looked straight up, all they saw were the cliffs and a small patch of blue sky.
    “Let us leave this place,” Small Otter declared.
    Black Elk gave him a sharp glance. As he did, once again he thought he glimpsed movement in theheavy undergrowth. He strained his eyes but saw nothing.
    The trail curved, and a clearing appeared. But it wasn’t the clearing that caused Black Elk to draw rein in amazement. It was what stood on the other side of the clearing.
    Mad Wolf, Double Walker and Small Otter came to a stop to the right and left of him. Their expressions mirrored the same astonishment.
    “This cannot be,” Double Walker whispered.
    “I would ask you to hit me to wake me, but I know I am already awake,” Small Otter said.
    Mad Wolf made a stabbing gesture. “Are the whites everywhere now? It is one of their wooden lodges.”
    Black Elk thought he understood. “This is where Grizzly Killer and the others are coming. They must have friends in that lodge.”
    “We should kill them and wait in ambush,” Mad Wolf advised. “Grizzly Killer will ride up and—” He suddenly stopped, his eyebrows arching toward his hair. “Do you hear what I hear?”
    From the structure came loud, merry singing. Not good singing, either, but the kind that set the ears on edge.
    “It is a woman,” Black Elk said.
    “She has the voice of a frog,” was Mad Wolf’s opinion.
    At a gesture from Black Elk, they dismounted. Each tied his horse to a tree. Then, bows at the ready, they advanced in a skirmish line, spreading out as they went. They were within a stone’s throw when the singing suddenly stopped.
    Black Elk halted and the others followed his example. He had seen such dwellings before. Unlike the buffalo-hide lodges of his people, which had flapsfor entering and leaving, the lodges of the whites had rectangles of wood that swung out and in. He remembered that the entrances were usually in the middle of the front wall, and sure enough, he saw a rectangle of wood in this wall. He also saw a square opening to one side, covered by a red cloth. Even as he set eyes on it, the red cloth parted and a pale face peered out at them. A female face.
    “She has seen us!” Mad Wolf cried.
    Black Elk braced for an outcry, for a shriek of warning that would bring armed white men rushing from the lodge. But the woman didn’t cry out. She didn’t scream. She did the last thing Black Elk expected her to do: she smiled at them. Then the red cloth closed.
    “That was strange,” Small Otter whispered.
    “She showed no fear,” Double Walker said.
    Black Elk sighted down his arrow at the square with the red cloth. He was sure that was where the white men would show themselves. But to his surprise, the flat wood in the center of the front wall opened and out stepped the white woman. She showed all her teeth, and held what appeared to be long needles and part of a blanket.
    Instantly, all four of them trained their bows on her.
    “Why is she smiling?” Small Otter wondered.
    “She is ugly,” Double Walker said. “If she was not