Blood Hunt (A Davy Crockett Western. Book 3) by David Robbins

Author:David Robbins
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: davy crockett, the old west, judd cole, westerns ebook, westerns horses cattle cowboys american indians native americans, historical wild west, us frontier explorers
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Chapter Eight

Davy Crockett did not waste a second. Springing to Rebecca’s side, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the west slope. They went over the side without slowing.

Flavius did not need to be told to follow suit. Back-pedaling to cover them, he spied vague movement off through the trees. Another few moments and the Atsinas would spot him. Flattening on his side, he rolled backward a good ten feet. He did not intend to roll past the crest, but gravity claimed him. Like an out-of-control barrel, he shot down the slope, gaining speed swiftly.

Davy and Rebecca were scrambling downward on the fly. A low squawk from Flavius alerted Davy to the two-legged avalanche about to slam into them. Throwing an arm around her, he jumped out of the way.

His momentum building, Flavius tried to arrest his descent by gouging his elbows into the ground. All that did was spike pain clear up to his shoulders. In desperation, he jammed his rifle stock into the grass.

It worked. Sort of. The stock wedged against a bush or a mound or something. Flavius was not quite sure. But suddenly he was levered into the air, the rifle acting as a fulcrum. He managed to hold on to it as he tumbled end over end and crashed to a bruising stop against a small pine that cracked under the impact.

Dazed and hurting, Flavius sat up. His main worry was for his rifle and a pistol he had taken from a dead settler. As he examined them, Davy and the woman reached him.

“Did you bust anything?”

“I don’t think so. My brainpan was rattled, but I’ll live,” Flavius said.

Rebecca glanced at the top of the hill. “Listen!” she whispered. “They must be close by.”

The guttural tones of the Atsinas rang out crystal clear. Davy hauled Flavius to his feet and shoved him toward a row of trees fifteen feet below. “Hurry!” he urged.

Not that any urging was needed. Flavius and Rebecca were right on his heels as Davy rushed between a pair of closely spaced saplings and dropped onto his stomach. No sooner had they imitated him than several swarthy figures were silhouetted on the crest. One was much bigger than the others.

He-Bear, Davy guessed. The Big Belly leader took a few more steps, and Davy could see him clearly. He-Bear was scanning the slope. The big Atsina scowled, and when one of the warriors made a comment, He-Bear’s reply was curt and harsh.

At a gesture from their chief, two Atsinas started down.

Rebecca grasped Davy’s arm. “They’ve seen us!”

“No,” Davy whispered. “They’re just checking. Maybe they heard something when Flavius hit that tree.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Flavius apologized, and grumbled, “Stupid place to put a tree, anyhow.”

Davy set to loading his rifle. He had to be careful not to give himself away. The warriors were roving south of the tracks they had made, and had not yet seen the broken pine. As he capped the powder horn after pouring the proper amount down the barrel, he saw the leanest of the two meander northward.

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