Little Warrior: Boy Patriot of Georgia (Patriot Kids of the American Revolution Series Book 2)

by Geoff Baggett

  “Yes, Father. I know what is expected of me.”

  “You’ll need to hunt and work and do all of the things that I would do if I were here.”

  “Yes, Father. I know.” He paused and stared at the ground dejectedly. “But I sure wish that I was going with you.”

  “I know you do, son. But you’re needed here.”

  “I know … to haul water and take care of the family.”

  Robert shook his head. “Not just that. I’ve already informed Colonel Sevier that you are staying behind. He fully expects you to perform your share of service in the militia. You will have to serve guard duty and go on patrols, just like all of the other men in the settlements.”

  Lewis’s eyes lit up. “Really, Father? Is that true?”

  “Absolutely, son. They need good, responsible fighting men. I assured the colonel that you would be a valuable contributor to the defense of the settlements.”

  Lewis stuck out his hand. “Thank you, sir. I’ll do my duty.”

  Robert pushed his hand away good-naturedly and grabbed his son, pulling him close for a hug. The other boys piled on for a group hug. Milly watched the entire event unfold with tears of joy mixed with sorrow.

  Robert tore himself away from the boys and gave his full attention to Milly.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “You’d better. I’ll be expecting you back here as soon as the job is done. Give Cornwallis a little piece of lead from me.” She jumped into his arms and wrapped her own arms around his neck. As he held her close she whispered into his ear, “I’ll be waiting for you to come back to me.”

  Robert hugged her even closer.

  On the other side of the clearing Frank knelt before his children. Anna toddled about on the ground, completely unaware of the events unfolding before her eyes. Simeon, now almost three years old, understood that something important was happening. The tears in his father’s eyes disturbed him.

  The little boy cupped his hand beneath Frank’s chin. “Why you cry, Papa?”

  Frank wiped his nose and smiled at his boy. “I have to go away for a while, Simeon. I am going to miss you and your mama and sister.”

  “Why you go?” he asked innocently.

  “I must go and make things better so we can go back home.”

  “Back to Georgia!” The youngster announced. He had no idea what Georgia was, but he heard the people around him talk about it all of the time.

  “Yes, Simeon. Back to our cabin in Georgia.”

  “You come back soon?” the little boy asked, a tear forming in his eye.

  “As soon as I can, son.”

  Frank wrapped the little boy in his arms and hugged him close. He looked up into the gorgeous, dark eyes of his bride. They were puffy and stained with tears. Frank stood and wrapped his arms around her.

  “Please take care of yourself, husband,” she pleaded. “I almost lost you once already. I cannot bear thinking of my life without you.”

  “I will come back to you, my Cherokee beauty.” He smiled broadly.

  “We will be waiting for you when you return,” she promised. “All four of us.”

  Frank’s head jerked backwards in confusion. “All four of us?”

  Nanye-Hi patted her belly. “There will be another coming in the late spring. Another arrow for your quiver.” She grinned.

  Frank roared an emotional cry, causing dozens of people nearby to turn their heads and stare in confusion. Some looked with haughty, judgmental eyes at the black man and his Indian wife with their half-breed children. But Frank and Nanye-Hi did not care. He picked up his wife in his strong arms and hugged her tight.

  “I love you, Nanye-Hi.”

  “And I love you, my husband.”

  Minutes later the men were mounted and heading toward British-controlled South Carolina.

  ***

  Lewis Hammock had a new friend. The young man’s name was Patrick Hix. The boys were about the same age and had become almost instant pals. After several weeks together they were practically inseparable.

  Patrick had lived in the mountains since he was a small boy, and he took great joy in teaching Lewis all of the strategies and tricks of successful mountain life and hunting. The militia officers saw how well the boys complemented one another, so they began scheduling them together on guard duty and patrols.

  It was early December. The boys were riding toward the south on an extended patrol in search of possible Indian encroachment. A rumor had reached the village the day prior about a raid upon a remote trading post down in that direction, at the edge of the Cherokee lands. Colonel Sevier had dispatched four patrols to fan out and look for any sign of Cherokee.

  The boys had been riding for a little over an hour and were following a game trail just below the crest of a wide ridge when Patrick raised his fist and called a sudden stop. He lifted his finger to his lips and then pointed down toward the ground beside the trail.

  Patrick jumped silently from his horse and Lewis followed suit. The boys tip-toed to the edge of the trail and knelt down. Patrick pointed at a tiny broken limb.

  “There’s sign here of fresh riders,” he whispered. “This here limb’s been broke.”

  He pointed also to the mixture of tracks in front of their horses.

  “I’ve been noticin’ pony tracks amongst the deer, elk, and bear. Ponies is on top. That means Injuns done passed since the last rain. More’n likely yestiddy afternoon or early this mornin’. We need to keep our eyes and ears open.”

  Lewis nodded his understanding. “We’re a long way from the settlements.”

  “A fer piece, sure ‘nough,” agreed Patrick. “Prob’ly too fer to be safe. I’ve been a mite stupid. We need to start makin’ our way back. Let’s keep it slow, easy, and quiet. Colonel Sevier needs to know about this.”

  The boys mounted their horses and quickly turned them around on the trail and pointed them back toward home. They had gone less than a quarter of a mile when Patrick signaled for another stop.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Lewis.

  Patrick sniffed the air. “Did you smell that?”

  “All I smell is that dead coon we saw a while back. It’s still burned into my nose,” Lewis quipped.

  Patrick shook his head. He obviously thought that it was no time for jokes.

  “No, I caught me a whiff of somethin’ differ’nt. Sumpin’ smoky. Like a man scent. It was just a tiny whiff, but I know I smelt it. Let’s get movin’. Somethin’ don’t feel right.”

  The boys gently kicked their horses, urging them to resume their journey northward along the trail. Patrick rode in the front, with Lewis only ten feet behind. Patrick picked up his pace noticeably, so Lewis did the same. They soon approached a narrow draw between two huge tree-covered rocks. Eons of water flow had made the cut on the mountainside, forming a perfect funnel through rock for the game trail. It was just wide enough for a horse to pass through.

  Lewis never saw what alerted Patrick, but suddenly the boy leaned forward over the neck of his horse and screamed, “Ambush!” His high-pitched voice shattered the serene silence of the forest. He kicked vigorously at the sides of his horse, prodding the animal into a run, and heading straight toward the cut in the rock.

  The next sound that punctured the tranquility of the Carolina woods was the crack of a rifle. The first shot was followed by several more. Lead slammed into the rock that surrounded the boys. Lewis felt the sting of the dust and rock fragments against the skin of his face and hands. He heard the dull thud of metal impacting meat and saw Patrick’s horse gave a brief lurch, but the animal kept moving forward.

  The boys were in the narrow, crowded draw between the boulders when the arrows began to rain down upon them. Lewis glanced up and saw several Indians at the top of the western side of the draw. Most of their arrows bounced harmlessly off of the stone walls that surrounded them. But some found their mark. He saw an arrow protruding from the rump of Patrick’s horse.

  Up ahead
of him Patrick screamed in pain. Lewis could not see how badly he was hurt. Lewis winced at a searing pain in his arm just above the left wrist. Then he realized that he couldn’t even move his arm! He looked down in horror to see that an arrow had penetrated the flesh of his forearm and imbedded into the pommel of his saddle. His horse whinnied almost to the point of screaming. He had never heard such a sound out of a horse before. Surely an arrow or bullet had struck his horse, as well!

  Then Lewis felt a scorching fire in his back. His injury was mid-way down and near his left side. He reached back awkwardly with his left hand and felt the shaft of an arrow protruding from his hunting frock. Something beyond fear gripped him. It was the sudden realization that he might very well die on that mountainside … that he might never see his mother or his family again.

  At long last they emerged from the narrow rock canyon onto the open trail beyond.

  “We’re almost clear!” wailed Patrick, his voice betraying the pain in his body. “We have to get around that bend and behind the hill! Forty more yards!”

  They were now well outside of the range of the bows, but the rifle fire quickly resumed. Lead slammed into trees, ricocheted off of rocks, and threw clouds of leaves and mud into the air.

  Lewis screamed, “God, Almighty, how many of them are there?”

  “I don’t know. It don’t matter. We have to keep moving!”

  Just before rounding that final bend a bullet screamed past Lewis’s ear. It must have been only inches away. He felt the vibration of the air that it displaced as it flew past him. The bullet struck Patrick with a loud and distinct ‘whack.’ He lurched forward across the pommel of his saddle and hung awkwardly across his horse’s neck. Without Patrick’s urging, the horse slowed down to almost a complete stop.

  There was neither the time nor the opportunity to stop and asses his friends injuries. The projectiles continued to fly over the hilltop. The Indians were less that a hundred yards behind them and certain to pursue. Lewis burst past Patrick on the trail, grabbed the fallen reins of his friend’s horse, and pulled the animal along the trail in the direction of the settlements.

  ***

  Lewis awakened with a throbbing headache. He wasn’t sure where he was or how he got there. He blinked his eyes in an effort to focus his vision. Then he heard the familiar voices of his family. He was back at his temporary home in the Watauga Valley. He was alive … and safe.

  Robbie’s voice called across the room, “Mama, he’s awake! Lewis is awake!”

  A crowd of brothers and sisters descended upon him. Robbie, Josh, and John just stood and smiled. Elizabeth, Nancy, Lucy, little Daniel Chandler, Simeon, and Anna all attempted to crawl onto the bed with Lewis and shower him with hugs and kisses.

  “All right, you little ones, off you go!” scolded Milly. “Lewis doesn’t need you crawling all over him like maggots on a carcass. Now shoo! Go and play.”

  The children scurried outside into the cool December morning. Only Robbie remained inside with his mother. Lewis heard movement by the fireplace and caught a quick glance of Nanye-Hi as she was tending to a cooking pot.

  “What happened, Mama?”

  “What happened? Land sakes, boy! You were shot to pieces by Indian arrows, that’s what happened! Don’t you remember?”

  “I remember the ambush and getting hit by a couple of arrows. I remember riding toward home and guiding Patrick’s horse after he got hit.” He paused and his eyes registered a flood of memories coming back to him. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his side drew him back down onto the bed. “Where is Patrick? How is he doing?”

  Milly took him by the hand and looked gently into his eyes. “Son, Patrick is dead.”

  Lewis felt the tears welling up in his eyes. Ashamed, he dropped back down onto the bed and threw his unwounded arm up over his face. He did not want his mother to see his emotions on display.

  Milly patted him on the leg. “Now, now, son. It’s all right to be upset about your friend. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Patrick was a fine friend to you, and you ought to mourn his passing.”

  Lewis attempted to wipe the tears from his eyes. “When did he die?”

  “Lewis, he was dead long before you even arrived here. And from what we could tell you had been unconscious for a while, yourself. The horses simply followed the trail back home.”

  “How’s my horse?”

  “Just fine. She had a pretty big cut on the hip. Mr. Andrews said it was from an arrow. But it was superficial. It’s been cleaned and cared for. She’ll be fine and ready to ride again in no time. Patrick’s horse was a mess, though. That poor gelding had been hit twice by rifle fire and had an arrow in its rump and still managed to make it home. But it was beyond hope. They had to put the poor animal down.”

  “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Two days,” chimed in Robbie. “Mama said you had a little bit of fever the first night, but you’ve just been sleeping for the most part.”

  “Am I hurt bad? I feel a little sore, but I don’t feel all that bad.”

  “The arrow in your forearm went right between the two bones,” explained Robbie. “The head stuck in your saddle. They think that’s what helped keep you balanced on your horse the whole way back. They had to break the arrow just to get you down.”

  Lewis looked at the tight bandage around his left arm. He felt tenderness in his side in the front as well as in the back. He looked under his shirt and saw a spot of blood on the bandage that was wrapped around his waist.

  “What is this blood from in the front? I remember feeling the arrow sticking out of the back on that side, but it’s sore in the front, as well.”

  Milly responded, “Well, son, that arrow was tough to get out. It was imbedded in that muscle in your side, not deep enough to get into you guts or organs. But those horrible arrows have such nasty barbs on them. They couldn’t back the arrow out, so they hat to push it on through and out the front. Once the head was broken off, they pulled the shaft out.”

  Lewis’s eyes grew wide in disbelief.

  Milly grinned and tousled his hair. “I know it sounds horrible, but these mountain men know what they’re doing. All in all it was a pretty superficial wound. You lost a little blood, but you’ll be just fine. Like Robbie said, you had a touch of fever that first night, but you’re a strong lad. Your body has healed nicely. You’ll be up and about in a couple more days.” She nodded toward Robert, Jr. “Your brother has been doing a fine job of taking care of things while you’ve been down. I’m blessed to have raised such fine young men.”

  Lewis noticed a bruise and bloody scratches on Robert’s right temple.

  “What happened to you, Robbie?”

  “I had a little accident the day you got hurt. Had me a run-in with a tree limb while I was hunting nuts with Nanye-Hi. I’m fine. She patched me up while everybody else was taking care of you.”

  Nanye-Hi walked over to where Lewis lay. She observed, “You must be hungry. Would you like some soup?”

  “Oh, yes. Very much!”

  She smiled broadly. “I will get you some.”

  Nanye-Hi was diverted from her soup preparation by a loud banging on the cabin door. She was closest to the door, so she opened it. A stout, burly mountain resident was standing outside. He was fully armed with blades and flintlocks.

  “Is Mrs. Hammock in?” he asked harshly.

  “I’m right here.” Milly crossed the room to greet their guest.

  “Ma’am. I’m Andrew Joslin. The colonel has asked me to pass the word along … you folks need to stay in close to the settlement until further notice. No one is to leave the area without say-so from the colonel.”

  “Why, Mr. Joslin? What is wrong?”

  “The Cherokees are upon us. They’re threatenin’ the valley.”

  “Oh, my Lord! What has happened?”

  “A patrol found old Abner Faris less than a quarter mile to the west. He was shot and scalped. The critters have done worked him over, too.�
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  The Hammock children all gazed fearfully at their mother.

  “The colonel’s affeared that an attack is comin’, so you folks mind his orders and stay in your home.” He looked angrily at Nanye-Hi. “Especially your Injun girl. It ain’t safe for her to be out and about. We don’t want no one gettin’ shot by accident, iff’n you know what I mean.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  LEWIS THE LEGEND

  Lewis and Robbie had been gone for most of the morning. Milly was beginning to get worried. The cabin door flew open just as her motherly instincts were guiding her mind toward all manner of tragedies that might have befallen her sons. The sudden blast of winter wind brought a chorus of griping from inside the warm cabin. Lewis and Robbie walked in quickly from the cold and began kicking the snow off of their shoes and leggings.

  Milly and Nanye-Hi descended upon the boys and began to peel the layers of protective buckskin and wool off of their frozen bodies.

  “Did you see any sign?” asked Milly.

  Lewis frowned and shook his head. “No, Mother. Not a thing. All I saw were the footprints of men who have been out hunting like us. But no sign of deer. Nothing at all. The critters are smart, I guess. They’re all probably laid up in a dry, sheltered crag in these mountains. Or maybe they’ve been hunted out. I don’t know. We might not see any sign until some of this snow melts off.”

  She spoke reassuringly, “Well, at least you tried. Some fresh meat would have been nice, but we’ll be all right.”

  “There’s just nothing out there, Mother. No rabbits, no turkeys. We didn’t even see a squirrel,” muttered Robbie in disbelief.

  “Well, like Lewis said, things will get better when the snow lets up a bit. It can’t stay this cold forever. Meanwhile, let’s get those shoes off and get some hot food in you right now. We have a hot stew and corn cakes. Nanye-Hi will add a squirt of rum to your tea to help warm you up.”

  A few minutes later the boys were seated in front of the fire and wrapped in warm wool blankets, enjoying a hot bowl of salty, tasty stew made from smoked pork and brown beans. The hot food and fire did much to chase the cold from their bones.