Chapter Seven: Dynamite, 'rabid' hordes and wild injuns
April 1887
One week. Roughly one week had passed since Frankie had last seen another living person. She had purposely stayed away from towns since leaving that strange quiet man beside that fire and she found herself wondering now and then how he was getting along. Though it wasn't no concern of hers and she certainly wasn't worried enough to go back after him.
Her main concern was finding her uncle. She had arrived at his cabin two days before but the man hadn't been there. Instead she had found a note saying he'd gone to town to get supplies and was leaving the note just in case she returned during his absence. His horse and cart had been gone as well.
Frankie had felt a sinking ball of dread enter her at the knowledge that her uncle was alone out there with those monsters. Those 'rabid'. But if Frankie had survived them then so would her uncle. He was after all the one who had taught her how to fend for herself.
So Frankie had waited at the cabin for a solid day before deciding that she was no good at resting. She knew the route her uncle always took to the town which was nearly a full days ride away and she would just follow it and either run into him on the way or find him in town.... She just prayed she found him in the same shape as she had left him in.
Frankie smiled as she saw the outskirts of town coming into sight and checked to ensure all three of her revolvers were loaded. She already knew the rifle on her back was loaded and was fitted with a bayonet just in case she wanted to get personal.
It wasn't that Frankie enjoyed killing the 'rabid'.... Okay so it was. She had seen them do terrible things and was eager to rid the earth of them. She just thought, or hoped, that if she killed enough of them eventually there would be no more.
She rode her horse down the deserted streets of town and felt her heart sinking lower and lower with every step. She didn't see anybody. Not anyone that was living anyway. She saw several 'rabid' fighting over the half eaten remains of a corpse beside the bank and another small group simply wandering .
Frankie knew that as soon as they realized she was here they would come for her and she didn't really feel like fighting so many at once. That could get a person killed. She had nearly gotten killed going after the giant horde that had been attacking the quiet man but something had made her help him anyway..... She still wondered what his story was. She had seen the crib in his home and yet she hadn't seen a baby.
Her horses hooves sounded as loud as hammer falls in the silence and Frankie dreaded the moment the 'rabid' would sense her. She was trying to avoid them the best she could but it was hard when they just wandered aimlessly. Suddenly the silence was shattered when gun shots sounded.
The 'rabid' heard the noise and their heads turned quickly toward the sound before they went off in that direction with hurried, jerking steps. Frankie was surprised. She hadn't realized they were drawn by noise. That was a piece of information she knew she needed to tuck away.
Frankie followed after the 'rabid', staying a safe distance away and the gun shots grew louder. Then she saw the group of men on top of the gun shop roof. There was a ladder leading to the top and the men were shooting at a massive horde of the 'rabid' that had gathered around the building. Good for the men the rabid couldn't climb ladders.... Their disease made them too uncoordinated and, well, twitchy.
Her eyes narrowed and then her heart soared when she recognized her Uncle Gibbs. But how the hell was she supposed to get through the horde to him?
"Well I'll be damned!" she heard him yell above the moaning of the 'rabid'. "That's my damn niece! There's my Frankie. Hold on, kiddo, and I'll clear a path."
Frankie quickly had her horse backing up when her uncle tossed a hissing stick of dynamite down into the 'rabid' horde and the explosion rocked the midday air. Body parts filled the air and Frankie didn't even give the dust time to settle before galloping quickly toward the ladder, firing bullets of her own as her uncle and his friends provided cover fire.
She leapt off the horse's saddle and onto the ladder, sacrificing what meager belongings were in her saddlebags. She'd run out of food and water and all that was in them was a thin hole filled blanket and a shirt that was just slightly less dirty than the one she had on and her cooking ware that she'd used while camping.
All of her ammunition was in her pockets and in the pouch attached to her belt and that's all she was really worried about keeping with her.
She started up the ladder, and then growled when she felt a tug on her leg and looked down to see a 'rabid' clutching at her pants leg. She tried to shake the young child off of her, but the little bastard had a death grip on her leg and her gnashing teeth were getting closer and closer to latching onto the unprotected flesh above Frankie's boot.
Keeping her grip on the ladder with one hand, Frankie pulled her revolver and fired off a shot into the little girls face. What had once probably been a sweet, angelic cherub face, became a splattered mess of blood and flesh and the girl's grip fell away from her. Frankie swallowed her bile, shooting 'rabid' children was never something she enjoyed and she holstered her gun to continue up the ladder.
Before she had regained a good grip on the ladder another 'rabid' grabbed her leg. His hand slipped off but it was enough to cause Frankie to slip and she knew she was going to fall. So this is how she was going to die.....
At least she wouldn't have to worry about becoming a 'rabid'. A horde this big getting hold of her would mean there wouldn't be enough of her body left to turn 'rabid'.
Her hand slipped loose and she closed her eyes but before she fell into the horde she felt a big hand grip her forearm and with one fluid motion she was lifted into the air and then dropped onto the roof of the gun shop.
"Damnation girl, are you okay?" her Uncle Gibbs demanded as he ran to her. Frankie nodded as she got to her feet and dusted off her backside.
"Yeah..." she mumbled without looking at the older man. Her eyes were glued to the tall, copper skinned, half naked, incredibly well muscled injun who had rescued her. His hair was cut short in the more 'white man' style but his face was clearly that of an indian, or at least more than half indian. He had high cheekbones, firm full lips and a long straight nose. His upper body was covered in lean rolling muscles and he had leather bands tied around his upper arms, emphasizing their thickness. Frankie found her eyes traveling south and wondering what he looked like out of those buckskin pants.
Frankie was not an innocent woman and had had several men but something told her that this injun could show her things that those other men couldn't have even imagined.
"What are you doing here girl? I left you that note at the cabin, why didn't you wait for me to come home?"
Frankie tore her eyes away from the hard bodied man with eyes as black as coals and scoffed at her uncle. "You know damned well I ain't never been any good at waiting." Frankie looked at the stockpile of weapons covering the roof and the impressive pile of spent shell casings. "How long have you all been up here?"
"Since yesterday morning." Uncle Gibbs admitted with a snort. "The damn critters won't let us down."
"That's because you keep shooting at them and they're drawn to the blood and the noise."
"How do you know that?" A man probably in his fifties the same as her uncle asked as he stepped forward and ran his hand over his thick black mustache.
"Because I saw it start." Frankie replied with a shiver as those memories flooded back. Had it really only been a little over a month since the terrible day when folks had started eating each other. It felt as if it had been a lifetime. "It was an elixir, a medicine that promised to keep you from ever gettin' sick again if you took it."
"Sure doesn't look like it worked out...." Uncle Gibb's stated drly as he looked over the edge of the roof at the horde of 'rabid' who were now beginning to drift away, going back to wandering and searching for new prey as they realized they weren't going to get a feast out of those on the roof quite yet. "I had no idea any of this was goin' on! Imagine my surprise when I ride into town to see my favorite lady of the night.... She was happy to see me, 'course that was just because she was hoping to munch my damned face off."
"Who are your friends?" Frankie asked, though her eyes didn't go to the mustached man instead they went straight back to that half naked picture of perfection. He was staring at her as well she noticed, his dark eyes making trails up and down her body almost like a lover's caress. Frankie knew right then and there that he and she would have to find some place to be alone and she hoped that it would be soon!
"We ain't exactly friends. We just ended up on the same roof with the same problem." Uncle Gibbs replied, looking down at the smaller group of 'rabid' still moaning and clawing at the stone walls of the gun shop.
"My name's Matthew, miss." The mustached man said as he stepped forward and held out his hand. Frankie raised her brow but then shrugged and shook his offered hand.
"Nice to meet you, Matthew." She turned her gaze back to the indian and stuck her hands into the pockets of her stained and torn trousers, rocking back on her heels. "And who might you be?"
The indian studied her a moment longer and then his tongue shot across his lower lip before his mouth curved into a lazy smile that had Frankie feeling much hotter than she had been moments before. "The name's Phillip."
Frankie nearly laughed out loud. "Phillip?" she demanded with amusement. The man frowned as he nodded. "Awful civilized name don't you think?" Frankie asked. Tact and manners had never been her strongest points.
Her Uncle Gibb's chuckled as Matthew looked at her with shock. Frankie was amused at the lack of temper in the indian's eyes. Instead that lazy smile broadened and he nodded.
"I have always thought so. Unfortunately my adoptive parents were quite civilized people."
"Darn." Frankie stated with a click of her tongue. "And here I was hopin' you were some wild injun who could show me a wild time. Now I find out you're just a Phillip."
"Leave the man alone." Uncle Gibb's warned as he stepped forward and came between Frankie and this Phillip. "I ain't seen you in a long time, girlie. What about your mama and your pa?"
Frankie shrugged. "Last I saw they were busy trying to eat each other." She replied. She wasn't any more saddened by that than she was by all the innocent people that had been turned 'rabid'. Frankie had not had any real fondness for her parents. They had abandoned her after all. She was just glad that she still had her Uncle Gibb's. If she had lost him.... Frankie shook her head. She hadn't lost him and that was all that mattered.
"I'm damned glad you made it here safe, Frankie." Uncle Gibb's sighed as he stepped forward and wrapped her in a tight, bone-crushing hug which Frankie returned. He pulled away with a sniff and busied himself by reloading the revolver he'd been shooting earlier. "Though I guess it shouldn't surprise me seein' as how you've always been tougher than jerked beef."
Frankie smiled. "You taught me well." She replied. Her stomach growled and she remembered then that she hadn't eaten since the morning before. "You got any food up here?"
The words had barely left her mouth and a sack of biscuits was being shoved under nose. She grunted and glared up at Phillip. "Thanks." She muttered, taking the sack away and digging out three biscuits before tossing the bag back at him.
"You have room for all those?" Phillip asked with a raise of his sculpted brow. Frankie snorted, used to hearing such things. Folks assumed that just because she was on the skinny side it meant she didn't each much. Which wasn't true. Frankie out ate most men that she knew.
"Don't you worry about me none, injun." She replied as she moved to the side of the roof and sat down, leaning her back against the two foot stone ledge. All in all her uncle and these men had picked a good roof. Flat with a ledge around it and plenty big enough for everyone to have plenty of firing space.
She began to munch on her biscuits and she saw her uncle and Matthew wander to the other side of the roof, fully engaged in a conversation about which gun was better for killing 'rabid', a Smith and Wesson or a Colt. As far as Frankie was concerned the brand of the gun didn't' much matter just as long as it went boom when you needed it to and left the 'rabid' lying dead.
Frankie was fully aware of the indian as he came to sit beside her, crossing his legs much like she had expected an indian would. He handed her a canteen.
"To wash those down. They are a bit dry." He stated simply. Frankie shrugged. She wasn't sure why he was feeding and watering her but she sure wasn't going to argue. She took the canteen and swallowed a big swig. He hadn't been wrong when he'd said the biscuits were dry but her stomach was still damn glad to have them.
"So, Frankie, huh?" he asked and Frankie wiped her mouth with her tattered duster coat sleeve and nodded before taking another bite of biscuit.
"That's right." She replied around the mouthful. Damn but this man was attractive. Ever lean muscle of his body was perfectly sculpted and of course she could see them all and watch them flex and twist with every movement he made.
"Awful manly name don't you think?"
"It's better than Phillip." Frankie responded with a snort. "You sure don't look like a Phillip."
"It is just a name."
"You need a better one."
"A better name?"
"That's what I said." Frankie replied, wondering if maybe he was hard of hearing. Though he appeared to be as amused by the conversation as she was and she figured he was just playing along to have a reason to talk to her. He scratched at his arm with those big calloused hands and she watched his forearms flex. Yep, she was certainly going to have to get this man alone at some point.
"And what would you have in mind? Injun?" There was a bit of sharpness to his tone when he said that last word and Frankie shook her head.
"Now when I call you an injun I don't mean nothin' bad by it. Far as I'm concerned you injuns got every right to want to put an arrow into every one of us pale faces backs. We sailed right on in and threw y'all out on your asses."
"I was born on a reservation. My parents told me tales of what life had once been and I wanted it so I ran away. I was found by a family when I was half starved to death. They raised me and called me Phillip. I hated the name and I hated them. They are gone but the name stuck around."
"What were you called before that?" Frankie asked, not caring to go into any more detail about his life. She wanted to bed him alright but that didn't mean she needed to know his life story before she did so.
"Little River."
Frankie let out a loud snort of laughter, spewing biscuit crumbs all over Phillip's shoulder. He raised his brow and brushed them away and Frankie wiped her mouth. "Are you serious?"
"Yes." The indian replied with a nod.
"Well that certainly ain't no better than Phillip."
"Can you do better at naming me than both my families?"
"Sure can." Frankie replied without thinking and that lazy smile spread across the indian's face again.
"Let's hear it then."
Frankie studied him as he turned his gaze to the horizon. She pictured him then, his bronze skin shining in the sun as he rode atop a big paint stallion. Letting out a war cry as he loosed arrows from his bow into the hordes of 'rabid'.
"Comanche."
"I am not a Comanche...." He began and Frankie smiled.
"You are now."
"Why because you say so?"
"Exactly."
He nodded and shrugged. "I suppose it is better than Phillip."
"It's either Comanche or Little River. You are far too wild looking to be a Phillip."
"I can assure you I do not just look wild, Frankie."
Frankie found her body heating deliciously under his gaze and she looked at him from the corner of her eye, aware that her uncle was watching them from across the roof.
"You'll have to prove that to me sometime, Comanche."
"I agree." He replied, his voice dropping lower as he shoved himself to his feet. Frankie looked up, finding her eyes locking on the front of his buckskin pants. "Soon." He added and Frankie was left sitting there, shifting and attempting to ease the heated arousal currently burning between her legs as Comanche walked to other side of the roof and joined her uncle and Matthew in their conversation.
Leave it to Uncle Gibbs to make life even more exciting than it had already been. She'd only been here a matter of minutes and already there had been dynamite, 'rabid' hordes and wild injuns. Frankie smiled. Suddenly the hordes of flesh eating rabid didn't seem so bad. She had a feeling Comanche would provide a nice distraction.