Braddock's Gold

by Jay Heavner

  Lightfoot reflected on his life. His parents had left eastern Virginia, crossed the mountains, and settled in the wilderness on the banks of the Youghiogheny River. He was born in a cabin there. He remembered his white name, John Lightfoot. He could see his mother, the color of her hair, her smile, and how hard she worked at the cabin. He remembered his new little brother, born just before he, John, was taken by the last of the Monongahela Indians. Was he still alive? If so, where was he?

  His mother was always talking about the Bible, love thy neighbor, no stealing, tell the truth, and David, the warrior king. He would have made an excellent Indian this David. She also talked about this Jesus man. His six-year-old mind did not understand much about this Jesus, but Momma surely loved Him. She sang about Him while she worked. Someday he would learn more of this man who influenced his mother. He must be the one the Indians called the Master of Life or the Great Being. He remembered how the Indians had grabbed him as he played in a stream, and taken him to their village over several mountains and a river. Their village, their tribe, only had about forty people left. War raids by the Iroquois and famine from the past droughts had decimated their numbers. Any new blood was welcomed. They gave him the name Monacaloga. He spent seven years there learning to be an Indian. He had nearly forgotten his English until a British trader visited the tribe and provided much needed European goods.

  He was now 13. Again his life would change. Tuscarora warriors aligned with the Iroquois massacred what was left of the Monongahela tribe. They had been killing anyone that was living on what they considered their lands, settlers included. He was only spared from the circling warriors because they were curious of his white skin and wavy auburn hair, and his bravery. An important man of the Tuscarora had stepped in and claimed him to replace a son he had lost to disease. He gave him the name White Thunder. Someday he would kill the brave he watched kill his Monongehela family, a family he had loved. One day he did. After five more years living and learning the ways of the Tuscarora and Iroquois, the day had come. A fur trader arrived with large amounts of rum and other goods. He got many animal skins in exchange. That night while the warriors were drunk, he found a tomahawk and sank it deep into the head of the one that had killed his Indian family. And then he slipped away into the night and disappeared in the near-endless forest. If there had been pursuit, it hadn't gone far. He knew how to cover his tracks Indian style.

  Now he lived between the parallel hills and valleys of Virginia among the few settlers that were there. Why were the two Shawnee men he killed wearing war paint? He needed to know. But for now, he would creep near to the White men and watch over them tonight. Tomorrow would be when he showed himself, and he would do it in a convincing way. He smiled to himself. He knew where and how, and he would make it very interesting, yes, very interesting.

  .

  Chapter 19

  As Lightfoot continues to shadow the three young men, he contemplated his mission. He had left his home near Patterson Creek when asked to watch over the young man, Roger McFarland discretely. He heard rumors of a large British Army massing for an invasion of the area west of where he lived. George Washington and his ragtag troops were defeated at Fort Necessity and sent off like a scalded dog running with his tail between his legs by the French and their Indian allies. Lightfoot had expected as much. The interests of the French and English would soon collide, and the native peoples would be in the middle and used by both sides. The Indians had their own interests too. At this time, they favored the French. They were less of a threat to their land and way of life, but still, the French were a threat.

  French forces had pushed the English traders out of the Ohio River Valley, and also the colonial militia under Washington back to Wills Creek. Most western Indians sided with the French. They felt the English had no stomach for a fight, and scornfully referred to them as "old women." And now in Winchester, Virginia, he saw many Redcoats. He passed some of them as he traveled to town. Their bright uniforms stood out against the forest. They had horses, wagons for supplies, cannons, and many foot soldiers, but many were sick from their march. Mosquitoes, chiggers, and ticks added to their woes. And the rattlesnakes were a big problem. The soldiers seemed very afraid of "ye serpent with ye rattle tail." Many suffered bites by the vipers. Several men had died. Still, there were many, many soldiers. And many more still to join them at Wills Creek. He knew the stream by its Indian name, Cohongaronto. There Caiuctucuc, or old Will as the English knew the friendly Indian, had lived.

  On a hill overlooking the stream where it intersected the Potomac River, the English were building a formidable fort. It would be in the colony of Maryland across the river from the older and smaller blockhouse fortification, Fort Ohio, constructed by the Ohio Company in Virginia. It was and would be one of the main routes Virginia interests would use to reach the western parts of the colony. Virginia land claims went all the way to the Mississippi; some said all the way to the Pacific. Frontiersman Christopher Gist had twice been sent west to the Ohio River Valley to support claims and report on the vast, unknown area. The French also claimed the Ohio and west. There would be trouble Lightfoot knew. Various other tribes of Indians lived there and considered it theirs also.

  Roger lived on a homestead near the blockhouse build on Mister Frank's farm hence the name Franksfort, or Frankfort as shortened. Before that, the area was known as Franksford. The ford through Patterson Creek was near the Frank's family farm. Roger lived with his sister and her husband. Several other homes from neighboring homesteads were built near the blockhouse for protection from Indians if needed, but things had been reasonably peacefully up until recently. Roger spent most of his time in the wood. That is where Lightfoot had surprised him and met him some years ago. Lightfoot would secretly shadow him home for his own safety. He was becoming a man of the woods, but he still had much to learn.

  Groups of soldiers and supplies had been leaving the camp at Winchester almost daily. Roger purchased his needed goods and also departed. The rugged road was beaten down further by the many troops moving west. Lightfoot watched as Roger met the two Redcoats along the road. One appeared to be ill, and the other had been attending to him. The three men now traveled together, and Lightfoot followed. He wondered what the two Redcoats were doing apart from their unit. They did not act like deserters. The ill one probably had not been able to keep up with the army, and the other Brit had remained with him to help. They continued on the beaten road until they reached the Little Cacapon River. There the beaten trail turned north to follow the river. Lightfoot knew the area well. The main body followed an old Indian trail to the Potomac River, where they could ford it at several places. From there, they would travel a trail little more than an animal path roughly paralleling the river to Wills Creek.

  It would be a long and hard journey for the men and supplies. Lightfoot watched the three cross the Little Cacapon and head up the hill on the other side. It was not much of a trail, but it led to the place where Roger lived. And Lightfoot reasoned, Roger was taking the soldiers to Wills Creek by this route. It would be quicker than the other but more dangerous. He'd already killed two Shawnee Indians watching them. He continued to follow, but less discretely. He wanted his young friend to know of his pursuing, but he would only leave the suggestion in Roger's mind of his presence. The soldiers seem to be traveling better, but he could tell they were not enjoying their time in the woods. The chiggers were eating them alive. They scratched almost constantly.

  Very soon, they would be near the healing springs, and they would stop there to refresh themselves. There Lightfoot would surprise them. He could see their faces now, and he laughed within himself.

  He followed the main path until he came to the side trail that led to the springs. It would not be far. Lightfoot crept stealthily up the gentle rise. At the top, he lay on his stomach and looked through low branches and tree leaves. There in the healing springs, a neutral place where various tribes could gather at peace, were three naked and pale white me
n. Their clothes were laid to the side along with their weapons, too far to reach if they ambushed. The men were enjoying the soothing waters and talking among themselves.

  Like a phantom, Lightfoot emerged from the forest and stopped at the edge of the water. He glared at the naked men. The two British soldiers stopped talking and froze with fear, exposed, and vulnerable. Roger looked up at Lightfoot. He said, "Oh, hello, I've been expecting you. Gentlemen, I would like you to meet my brother-in-law, Lightfoot."

  With that, Lightfoot grinned and said, “You are getting better. You may make a woodsman yet.”

  “What are you waiting for?” Roger asked. “Come on in. The water feels great.”

  With that, Lightfoot stripped off his clothing and walked into the water. "And who are your friends?" he asked Roger.

  Roger pointed to the first. “This is John De Fayre, and that’s Caleb Campbell. They are my friends. I’m taking them to the new fort on Wills Creek.”

  The two men looked at Lightfoot suspiciously and with some fear. Lightfoot smiled, “any friend of Roger is a friend of mine. We will see you get there.”

  It was the first of several times the soldiers would see Lightfoot on their journey west to engage the enemy. Each time they would grow more thankful, he was their friend.

  Chapter 20

  The men enjoyed the cold, regenerating waters of the spring. Periodically Lightfoot would leave the waters. He was naked, but this did not bother him. As a child with the Monongahela tribe, he had worn no clothes, except in winter. Many in the tribe also "dressed" like this. The Tuscarora Indians had worn a little more but not much. Only when Lightfoot knew he would be around whites did he wear more than a breechcloth, legging, and moccasins. Now his pants and shoes lay on the bank. He looked carefully around the woods about the spring. He listened closely. All seemed in order, but the old rules seemed to be dying out. They were probably safe at this place the tribes considered sacred. The Great Spirit had given these healing waters to all His people. It was taboo to shed blood here, but things could happen.

  He skinned the dead animal, a raccoon that he'd killed earlier. Lightfoot cut it up and put it over the fire to cook. Roger left the water and got a pot from his sack. He filled it with water, put some tobacco in the liquid, and set the 'pot on some rocks by the fire to heat. They then went back into the cleansing waters. The two soldiers were somewhat embarrassed at the comfort the other two men had in their bare skins but said nothing. Like good soldiers, they realized the two had superior knowledge of conditions here. They would watch. They would study, and they would learn.

  Lightfoot got out of the water. He looked at the men and said, “It is time, come.”

  Roger left the water first, followed by the other two. He looked at the steeping liquid. Carefully he put his finger near the water. It was warm, not too hot. Then he cupped the brown fluid in his hand and rubbed it over his naked body. Lightfoot did the same. The two soldiers looked at each other uneasily. Roger smiled and said, "Do you want to get rid of those bugs that have been eatin' you up?"

  The soldiers nodded yes. Roger said, “This stuff will kill them and keep them off of you.”

  Hearing that, they eagerly rubbed the liquid all over their bodies. They left no part untreated. The two frontiersmen laughed as they did. They knew the discomfort the bugs could do to a man. After they had dried, they dressed. Lightfoot checked on the meat. It was cooked, a little too done, but the men ate hungrily. John asked as he looked at the animal skin lying nearby, "What kind of animal is this?"

  "Raccoon," Lightfoot replied, "but most people 'round here calls it a coon. 'Round here, if it moves or crawls, we eat it."

  John and Caleb expressed mild surprise, but their empty stomachs welcomed the warm meat. After being left behind by the army, they had eaten nothing until Roger had found them and shared his cornmeal and maple sugar with them. Lightfoot walked around the pool to some cattails. He dug some out of the mire and cut some tender shoots. He washed the roots off, stripped the outer layer of both, washed them again, and gave this to the other men. Roger ate these without hesitation. The two soldiers followed his example. The roots and stems were edible and filling. Lightfoot smiled and said to them, "If you can ever find cattails, you’ll never go hungry. The soldiers nodded their approval. They were learning how to survive in this new land.

  Late that afternoon, they passed the Edward's homestead. The Edwards and some neighbors were building a blockhouse on his property. They'd heard the rumors of trouble and were preparing a defense if needed. The four travelers proceeded on westward till nearly dark. The men chose a suitable place to lie down for the night. The weather was dry but seasonally warm. Lightfoot as always was alert to the sounds of the forest. He showed no alarm. The three others picked up his cue and followed his example.

  They traveled all the next day. Early in the morning, Lightfoot stopped and examined a broken twig and some moccasin marks. He looked intensely at the area before muttering, “Black Wolf.”

  This got Roger’s attention. The soldiers looked at each other. Caleb asked, “Who’s Black Wolf?”

  "One evil Shawnee Indian. He's smart and also ruthless," replied Roger. "He's a good one to avoid if you can."

  They saw no more signs of the Indians that day, but they traveled ever vigilant. That night, the men camped by the South Branch River banks. They lit no fire so as not to bring notice to themselves. After an uneasy night, they ate quickly and crossed the river at a ford. They traveled without much talk. By midday, they were on top of Middle Ridge and would be at the home of Roger soon. The men continued without haste down the twisting hollow on the old trail that would get them to Frankfort. They would make it there by supper time if all went well. The four men crossed the shallow stream know as a 'run' numerous times. All were on guard for trouble. Lightfoot, as usual, was listening and looking for anything that would betray the presence of Indians.

  The men moved on now eagerly but quietly. Lightfoot raised his hand, and the party of four stopped. They stood there silently, listening, not moving. Lightfoot was looking intensely at something in the woods. Carefully and slowly, he raised his gun to his shoulder, aimed, and fired. With Lightfoot in the lead, the men ran in the direction he had fired. There was blood on the ground. They followed it cautiously to a thicket. In the underbrush laid a dead deer. All would eat well tonight. Roger cut down a slender sapling. He tied the deer's legs and slipped the wooden pole through the legs. He signaled for the two Redcoats to carry. They put the poles on their shoulders and proceeded on, with Lightfoot in front and Roger guarding the rear. They had food, but the shot had alerted anyone near of their presence.

  Soon they were in flat land, the fertile, bottomland along the stream known as Patterson Creek. A cabin came into view, but they soon found it deserted. The people had left in a hurry, so they continued on. At a distance, the cabins and blockhouse of Frankfort appeared in front of them. Menacing dogs started howling. They could make out people with guns looking in their directions. The dogs came running toward then growling viciously. Lightfoot yelled at them, and their demeanor changed. Soon they were at his feet, wagging their tails and yelping happily. Lightfoot reached down and rubbed the lead dog behind his ears and stroked his furry head. The dog left to sniff the first Red Coat. Lightfoot was now surrounded by dogs begging for attention. He rubbed all of them on their heads, necks, and backs. One by one, they followed the lead dog to sniff the soldiers, and then they turned their attention to the deer. They barked happily. The dogs would eat well tonight. Next, the pack checked out the second soldier and finally ran to Roger, who, like Lightfoot, rubbed their heads and backs with vigor. The whole procession now headed toward the blockhouse and cabins. The people came running to them. All were armed.

  "Lightfoot, Roger," a woman said, "We heard the shot and thought you were Indians." She looked at the dangling deer. "Now I know why we heard the shot."

  Lightfoot smiled. "We will eat good tonight. I know about the Indians. Bl
ack Wolf and some others are passing through. I saw their tracks."

  "Black Wolf," she said. "That can only mean trouble. How did you know it was him?" Lightfoot responded, "The Indian's tracks were made by a man who's left foot is slightly pigeon-toed. That's Black Wolf for sure."

  She drew closer and kissed him. Lightfoot had married Beka about one year after her first husband, Reese, had died from the fever. Reese had cleared the land and built the cabin. Shortly after finishing it, he got sick and died. They buried him on the hill to the east of the little settlement. Beka had leased the cleared land to neighbors. They paid with a share of the crops. After marrying Lightfoot, she had continued this. Lightfoot was a man at home in the forest. He was no farmer.

  In all, there were about eight armed men and women with her. One was a traveler. "Reverend Haskell! So good to see you," Lightfoot said.

  "And you too," the preacher replied. "I see you found some friends." He pointed to the Red Coats.

  “Yes, they got separated from their group, and we’re taking them to Fort Cumberland.”