She wore a blue satin gown with lace around her forearms and neckline. She adjusted a thick shawl over her shoulders as she came toward him and settled into the chair next to him. The Brown Cow was no place for a woman of her class. And all men were watching them. As much as the colonel tried to keep the rumors from swelling, eventually the truth outed and Pyke figured that everyone in Jenkins Town knew their tortured history.
“Lieutenant Pyke,” she said. “It is so good to see you. How have you been?”
“Miss Bennett.” He was aware of the air around him, of his arm against the table. “I was just about to leave. Could I escort you home?”
“This is the first evening my father has permitted me to roam the town since …” She looked down as if embarrassed. “ … since you saved me, Hugh. I figured you were in here and was wondering if we could enjoy each other’s company?”
She put her gloved hands on the table.
“Your father would not approve. I wouldn’t either.” He couldn’t stay here. But all the same, he didn’t want to leave. He had so many questions for her. If she could just explain why …
He forced the useless thoughts from his mind. He knew it was foolish to open himself to her again. She was more unpredictable than an Indian and more dangerous than the whole French army to him.
“Have you read my letters?” She kept her eyes on him. He felt rooted to the spot.
“Damaris …” He hadn’t opened a single one, afraid of reentering her world. He searched for the right words, but to find the right words he needed to understand his feelings. He didn’t.
“Hugh, I spoke to my father about you. I reminded him of what you did. Sometimes he forgets that because my actions spoil the memory of everything during that time. He forgets that you stopped Azariah.”
“The Susquehannock stopped Azariah.”
“With you leading them. You and your friend.”
She smiled warmly and he felt a tightness in his chest.
She said, “My father is a stubborn man, but he could see the force of my argument, Hugh. He knows what you did. I think he can be convinced you are due for a promotion.”
Pyke said nothing.
“Hugh.” Damaris lowered her eyes and her voice grew heavy. “I know you won’t believe me but I was … not myself. I was going through a very difficult time in my life and I fell under Azariah’s spell. I know now he was not a good man. I know now you did what was necessary. And I know now part of why you did it was for me. You’re a good man, Hugh, an honorable man. You’ve been too good to me, better than I deserve. Some nights I have terrible dreams that you were killed in your duel defending my honor.”
Pyke still said nothing.
“You loved me once, Hugh. I was wondering if you could find it in your heart to love me again. I’m sorry about what transpired, all the things that went so horribly wrong. I’ve thought about it these many months, endlessly, night after night. Could you ever forgive me?”
Pyke stood. She was a viper disguised as a beautiful woman. Of course she wanted to marry him now, as her reputation had driven any other prospects to the four corners of the Earth. And he was certain the colonel and she had plotted this whole conversation. It was no coincidence this was the first night she’d been permitted to roam free, hours after Pyke had tried to discuss his career with her father and hours before he began another dangerous mission. If he agreed to the engagement and then was killed, the colonel could dispel the rumors swirling around his daughter—see, the man she was accused of wronging asked for her hand! Then her prospects, at least some of them, would return.
Pyke said, “I forgive you. But I won’t marry you to obtain a promotion.”
He left her in The Brown Cow and ignored the stares of everyone as he left.
***
The next morning, Sergeant Davies was waiting for him outside. Davies was a pot-bellied man who hadn’t seen a razor in months. Across the sea, his slovenliness wouldn’t be tolerated. But they were not across the sea.
“Sir, good to see you.”
Pyke smiled. “Did you go to bed last night, Davies?”
“I attempted to go to bed twice, sir. But neither woman was obliging.” Davies laughed.
They started down York Road. The sun was just now melting the frost and a fine dew covered everything.
“The colonel has shared the nature of our mission with you?”
Davies belched. “Savages are raping and killing people in Millers Town.”
“Aren’t one for details, are you, Davies?”
He tapped the side of his head. “Got it all up here, sir. Officers usually only want to hear the summary, not the details.”
Pyke laughed at the truth of that statement. As they approached the armory, Pyke spotted the quartermaster, a wizened old colonial, and Fletcher, one of the men he’d met at Millers Town. Fletcher, a thin man of about twenty-five with his brown hair pulled into a tail at his shoulders, waved at him like they were old friends. The quartermaster chewed his tobacco and hawked a big gob into the street.
Pyke lowered his voice. “Sergeant, there is more to this story that I will share with you. But not in front of Fletcher.”
Davies said, “Quite right, sir. Quite right.”
They reached the armory and Fletcher greeted him with a smile and handshake.
“Lieutenant Pyke, good to see you.” Fletcher spoke in that slight, strange colonial accent Davies had.
“Likewise, Mr. Fletcher. How is your wife? I have not forgotten her, or her delicious cider.”
At the mention of alcohol, Davies groaned.
Fletcher smiled. “You remember she was up the duff? She gave birth to a healthy baby girl. Ain’t nothing wrong with that girl’s lungs I can swear.”
Pyke shook the man’s hand again. “Congratulations to you and your family.”
Fletcher thanked him but his face darkened. “That is really the only good news to share, Lieutenant. Millers Town is at a crossroads what with the raids. We were just getting on our feet but then the savages came. Stolen crops and cattle and anything left outside. This week one of ours was left for dead. It’s a miracle from God that Carter survived.”
Pyke had a vague recollection of Carter. He clearly remembered Millers Town. They had not been eating high on the hog, but they also weren’t impoverished. He’d seen many worse frontier towns.
“I’m sorry to hear of your troubles,” Pyke said. “Sergeant Davies and I will work to resolve this quickly.”
“We’re in your debt, sir.”
Fletcher excused himself to saddle his horse. Davies and Pyke went inside the armory, which also served as a grainery, with the quartermaster, a man named Strange. The old man was seventy years old if he was a day.
Strange walked with a noticeable limp. One leg looked longer than the other. “Two days’ supplies. Approved by the colonel. I’ve got the boy to get the materials for you.” He pointed along the wall at the sacks of food and artillery.
Pyke smiled. “Thank you. But we’ll need five sacks of grain, five muskets, and two more horses.”
“The colonel only approved two days of supplies.” Strange went to his desk. It took him ten seconds to walk as many feet. He produced a slip of paper with the colonel’s unmistakable handwriting on it.
“That is correct.” Pyke smiled at the old man. “But we’ll be joining several others on the road for this mission. We need two days of supplies for all of them.”
The quartermaster reread the orders from the colonel, even though he’d just read them off to Pyke. “Doesn’t say anything about these other men on here.”
Pyke nodded. “The colonel is very busy so his orders are short and to the point.”
Strange mumbled something about the unintelligibility of the colonel’s orders. Pyke bit his tongue. Davies was openly staring at him. Pyke didn’t meet his eyes.
Strange scratched at his balding head. He was weighing his options. Pyke had been careful not to ask for anything absurd.
Pyke and Davies loaded the supplies onto the extra horses and thanked Strange. They met Fletcher on York Road minutes later. All were quiet as Pyke and Davies led the horses. When York Road degenerated into the narrow Indian trail, Fletcher spoke.
“Has the colonel seen fit to send us extra supplies?” He nodded at the horses and the additional things Pyke had requested from Strange.
Pyke smiled. “These are for the Susquehannock.”
Both men stared openly at him.
“Sir?” Davies said.
“You’re taking them gifts?” Fletcher said.
Pyke didn’t care for the insolent tone in Fletcher’s voice but he kept his voice light. “I know the Susquehannock well. I don’t doubt you were attacked but I believe you are mistaken they are responsible. I will get the truth out of them. If I’m wrong and they’re responsible, then these goods will serve as payment for whatever their injury, be it real or perceived.”
Davies wanted to say something but Pyke shot him a quick look to be quiet.
Fletcher was at a loss for words.
“Do you foresee a problem with that, Mr. Fletcher?” Pyke said as innocently as possible.
Fletcher paused like he was thinking about it. Pyke got the sense he was holding back something, or didn’t know what to say.
“No, it’s worth the try. I’m no soldier, just a poor miller. So if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather straight home to my wife and daughter. The Susquehannock are bloodthirsty savages. They see me traipsing into their village and they’ll look like God’s revenge on murder and come for my scalp.”
“Fair points. Sergeant Davies and I will meet you in Millers Town.”
Fletcher seemed relieved. They rode the Indian trail another five miles before Fletcher took his leave and turned north. Davies and Pyke stopped to rest their horses and take a drink. The sun was high overhead and its warmth felt good coming through the barren branches.
Davies pulled out his wine skin.
Pyke said, “Didn’t think you were fit to drink today, Sergeant.”
“A drink to repair. Besides, don’t trust the water.” Davies tipped the skin at him. “Sir?”
“I have my own, thank you.” Pyke sipped the cider he’d gotten from The Brown Cow last night. It was watery and had a sharp, bitter bite to it. Molly Fletcher’s was much better.
Pyke took the opportunity to recount his experiences with Millers Town, especially his killing of the scalpers. Though Davies couldn’t read, he made up for this shortcoming with an excellent memory, and Pyke knew he would retain all the details and nuances of the story.
Davies’s pot-belly, scraggly appearance and unseemly gait proved perfect camouflage. He would always be underestimated and he was cunning enough to use it to his advantage. Pyke enjoyed his company very much, despite Davies’s poor habit of ignoring the finer points of soldiering.
“So you’re taking us to the savage’s village?” Davies said.
Pyke nodded. “They are our allies.”
Davies shuddered, and Pyke knew why. As a young boy, Davies’s camp had been raided by one of the tribes. Davies had seen his mother cut down with a tomahawk. He was a good soldier but utterly terrified of Indians. He believed they possessed superhuman strength and practiced witchcraft. Davies’s fear was probably why the colonel had assigned him to this mission. No doubt Davies had angered the colonel at some point because Davies was lax and the colonel had a short temper.
“We camp there tonight?” Davies gave Pyke a sidelong look.
“Sergeant, you have nothing to fear.”
“I’d rather see the stars from Millers Town tonight.”
Pyke smiled. “Sometimes, Sergeant, you must speak the language of the bear. Especially if you don’t want it to eat you.”
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Nathanael Green and Evan Ronan grew up reading thrilling adventure stories and wanted to write their own. So they did.
Nathanael Green is an author, freelance copywriter, and lecturer of college students, among other unmentionable things, living in upstate New York. He holds a master of fine arts degree in creative writing and has seen his articles, short fiction, and essays appear in national and international journals and magazines.
Despite the writer stereotype, Nate does like hearing from other readers and writers. Please feel free to contact him through his website, nathanaelgreen.com, via email at [email protected], or subscribe to his newsletter.
Evan Ronan's stories don't always fit neatly into one genre. He reads widely and tries to write as widely. His paranormal thriller series, The Unearthed, features his favorite protagonist, Eddie McCloskey, a man who's constantly underestimated and always finds a way to beat long odds through hustle, brains, and hard work.
Evan also writes in the YA, sci-fi, fantasy, and mystery genres. He lives with his family in New Jersey, in the same town Eddie McCloskey grew up in.
For more information on Evan, visit his website www.ronaniswriting.blogspot.com or his Facebook page. Join his Mailing List to stay current with his latest releases.
ALSO BY EVAN RONAN
THE UNEARTHED SERIES
The Unearthed
The Lost
The Accused and the Damned
The Hysteria
The Traveler
The Dream Machine (in the works)
The Missing (in the works)
SHORT STORIES
Morale Was Down
Effective Immediately
Not Safe For Work (in the works)
In The Blood
In The Blood #2
In The Blood #3
Harm
Frontier Justice
OTHER NOVELS COMING SOON
Undo (YA / sci-fi)
OtherWorld (middle grade fantasy)
The Eighth Man (sci-fi noir)
LANGUAGE OF THE BEAR. Copyright 2015 by Nathanael Green and Evan Ronan. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, place and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.
Edition: April, 2015
Language of the Bear Page 36