The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,77

fire onto the animal’s pelt. It caught like dry grass on a flat plain.

The bear roared and then reared up on its back legs, pawing first at Henry, then at itself as the fire spread. As Henry watched, it fell to the ground; a burning pyre of pain-filled rage. After that, the horror of the night became a series of sensations Henry would take to his grave.

The scent of scorched and burning hair.

The vibration of the ground beneath his feet as the horses stomped nervously at his back.

The warmth of Parson’s blood as he tried, without success, to shove the loops of entrails back into his old friend’s belly. When the guts slid through his fingers for the tenth time in as many seconds, he leaned back on his heels, his voice thick with tears.

“Hell and damnation, Parson. You always were a slippery old cuss. I just didn’t know you was slick clear through.”

But there was no critical comment from Parson to chide Henry for the curse words, or the fact that he’d been unjustly maligned. Only the stench of burning animal hair and flesh, and the sounds of his own sobs tearing up his throat and out into the night.

Remember your promise.

It came to Henry as suddenly as the bear had come upon them. He bowed his head; his shoulders shaking with grief as he gave up trying to reassemble his friend.

“I remember, Elmer. And I swear to that God you was always a’talkin’ to that I will find you a true man of the cloth, or die tryin’.”

They’d been traveling with him for days, running parallel, yet never coming close enough for a rifle shot. They were big, gray shadows on long skinny legs—the yellow-eyed timber wolves with a mouthful of teeth and nothing to show for their trouble but ribs sadly lacking in flesh. It had been a hard year for man and beast out on the prairie. As best Henry could count, the pack ranged in count on a day-to-day basis from ten to thirteen.

It was getting dark and time to make camp again. The plains that seemed so flat in the daylight now started to take on shape and shadows—hiding things in the belly-high grass that could take a man’s breath and life away in nothing flat.

Henry swiveled in his saddle, looking beyond the horse and travois that was pulling Parson’s body. They were no closer. But they had also not given up. He sighed. He hadn’t expected them to.

Parson had been dead for five and a half days now and was riper than persimmons after a hard frost. And while Henry had done his best to put Parson back together, he knew that his best had not been good enough. There was no way he’d ever be able to unwrap Parson and bury him decent in a suit of clothes.

And yet it didn’t seem to matter. In fact, the old trapper would have laughed with glee knowing that Henry had been forced to use their best buffalo robe as a shroud just to keep from stringing what was left of his mortal self all over the mountains and out onto the great Kansas plains.

“Oowee, Parson. You smell like you ate your best friend and done forgot to swallow.”

And then his gut drew, but not from the smell. It was the entire situation that he hated.

A lone howl split the air, and a second followed. He drew his gun, aimed and fired. It did no good. They were out of range and seemed to know it. It pissed him off royally to know that dumb animals were smart enough to outwit him. It didn’t seem quite right—or fair.

“One more night, old friend, and we’ll be at the fort. There’s bound to be a preacher there. He’ll know the words to say that’ll give your heart ease.”

But it was Henry’s heart that was in pain, not Elmer Sutter’s. Pain was, for him, a thing of the past.

“Horseshoe Creek, dead ahead. Yore favorite camp site, remember?”

Henry didn’t think it strange that he was talking to Parson as if he still rode beside him instead of persistently rotting behind. Solitude was something each man had been familiar with, even comfortable with. Henry just hadn’t faced the fact that Parson was gone. That would come when the last shovel of dirt went on top of his grave and he was forced to ride out alone.

There was a deep overhang of rock and earth near the north side of the