The Scalp Hunters by David Thompson Page A

about the ordeal he had been through when the green-garbed young man with her came over and held out his hand. His natural reaction was to suspect a trick, but the man seemed sincere about helping him. He took hold and let the other pull him to his feet.
    Evelyn was about to introduce Waku and his family when she realized there weren’t any signs for their names. The best she could do was point at each of them and say their names out loud.
    Wakumassee . Tihikanima . Plenty Elk had never heard of names like theirs. He repeated them and was corrected when he mispronounced the older daughter’s. He liked how she smiled at his mistake but not in a mocking manner.
    Evelyn again asked about the scalp hunters. What she learned alarmed her. Turning to Waku, she translated, ending with, “We must leave before they get here. They won’t care that you and your family are friendly. It won’t matter that Miki is so young. All they’ll think of is how much money your hair will bring.”
    Aghast, Waku nodded at his youngest. “They would kill her, too?” To slay another human being was bad enough. To kill a child was vile.
    â€œThey might.” Evelyn would have herself to blame. The scalp hunters had no idea she and Waku’s family were in the area until she went and butted in. Now the black would tell the rest and they would beafter her and the Nansusequas like a pack of crazed wolves after sheep.
    Plenty Elk coughed to get her attention. ‘Question. What you do?’
    â€˜We run,’ Evelyn signed. Fly like the wind was more like it, and the sooner they started, the better.
    â€˜You help me. I help you. I come with you. Together we fight scalp men.’
    Evelyn hesitated. The Lord knew, they could use his help. But could she trust him? The Arapaho weren’t as friendly as the Shoshones. Then again, they weren’t as hostile as the Sioux. ‘We happy you want fight for us.’
    First they dug a shallow grave using broken tree branches and lowered Wolf’s Tooth into the hole. They heaped dirt and branches and leaves on top to discourage scavengers.
    Evelyn was grim as she climbed on the mare. They had gone from hunting buffalo to being the hunted, and it might well be that none of them would live to see the mountains ever again.

Chapter Seven
    Venom was in no hurry. The two Dog Eaters who got away only thought they were safe. He would catch up to them presently and relieve them of their lives and their hair.
    His company strung out behind him, Venom looked for the marks Rubicon made to guide them. At intervals the grass had been ripped out exposing the dirt. Each mark was about a yard long and half a foot wide and tapered in the direction they were to go.
    Venom thought of the blood he had sucked from the scalp earlier and smacked his lips, wishing there had been more. Most folks didn’t realize how delicious blood was. Back when he did it for the first time, when he was dying of thirst on the desert, he’d never imagined how much he would like it or how addicting it could be. He hadn’t been joshing when he said that it was too bad blood wasn’t sold in bottles like whiskey and ale.
    Hooves thudded and he acquired a shadow at his elbow.
    â€œWhat do you want, Logan?” Of all his men, Venom trusted Logan the least. Logan was snake-mean andas shifty as desert sands on a windy day, and Venom suspected he had aspirations.
    â€œHow long do you aim to wander all over this grassland looking for redskins before we head for New Mexico?”
    â€œAs long as I want. Do you have a problem with that?”
    â€œYou’re the boss.”
    â€œThat wasn’t what I asked.”
    â€œDamn, you are a testy bastard.” Logan laughed, but the sound rang hollow. “Have I ever complained?”
    â€œYou’re too smart to gripe to my face.”
    â€œI wouldn’t gripe behind your back, either. If I didn’t like the way you were running