Ironhawk (Perry County, Pennsylvania Frontier Series Book 6)

by Roy F. Chandler

  Rob joined them. "There will be no one for you, Ironhawk."

  "For that I am pleased, Quehana. Have you a plan?"

  "Only part of a plan, young nephew, but remain patient for I will know soon."

  Bright Morning shivered and spoke softly. "That man who is uglier than a long-dead animal stares at me."

  Rob followed her gaze and saw Zach Sheene quickly look away. "He is a trader. Do either of you know him?" Neither did.

  Rob added, "I'll keep an eye on him and his sons, but I can't see as he can bother you any."

  Within the hour the display ended, and the fence again separated the captives from society.

  Rob took Thomas Reed aside.

  "The way I see it, the best thing for Ironhawk and his sister would be some kind of apprenticeships to good people here in Carlisle. I could keep a distant eye on them, but I know that you will say that there are no such positions available, and I know that you would be right."

  Reed nodded agreement, so Rob went on.

  "That being the case, I am prepared to pay for someone to take those children on, to teach them English and to generally turn them back into white people."

  His father-in-law was astonished. "Where on earth can you get that kind of money, Rob? I wonder often how you prosper while everyone else over the mountain struggles simply to stay alive, but to support children that are not your own . . . That is an expense that will surely place you in poverty."

  Rob's voice was grim. "I can pay, Thomas. The problem, as I see it, is to find the right tutors and teachers."

  Still bemused, Reed muttered, "I can recommend a few, but the cost will not be small Rob."

  Rob said, "When I named Ironhawk, I proclaimed that he would live in both white and Indian worlds, and that he would learn English and how to shape iron, but I did not foresee anything like this." He mused, "Perhaps the Great Spirit did speak through my thoughts."

  Reed did not appreciate Great Spirit talk, and he cleared his throat in embarrassment.

  "As you mention iron working, I do have a suggestion that will startle you, but I make it with sincerity and with more than a little surprise that it could be so."

  Rob nodded his interest, and Reed proceeded.

  "Of course you recall when men of this community tied you by your braids and prepared to beat you unmercifully."

  Rob's voice was a snarl. "I remember, and if Becky had not thrown me a knife I might have died right there."

  Reed doubted it could have gone that far, but he went on. "The blacksmith you branded on his . . . posterior with a heated horseshoe is named Fritz Baumhauer. He is still among us."

  "I know. I see him now and then. The other two never returned, did they?"

  "No, they were last seen lashing their wagon out of town. No one has heard of them since that time—what has it been, a dozen years or so?"

  "Not long enough. If they return I will horse whip them."

  Reed chuckled nervously. "I can see that you are going to make this difficult, Rob.

  "Since the day that you avenged yourself on Fritz he has been a different man. Baumhauer was a drunkard and a troublemaker, but you apparently shocked him to the core because he has never touched liquor again. He has become a pillar of our Lutheran church. He is married to a lovely woman, and his business has prospered.

  "Fritz Baumhauer, Rob, is the man you should seek out to teach your friend Ironhawk how to become a white citizen."

  Rob approached speechless, but he rallied. "I doubt this Baumhauer would be interested in anything I proposed."

  "Quite the opposite, Rob. Fritz has long wished to apologize, to ask forgiveness, to—if possible—become your friend. The fact is, Fritz Baumhauer is one of your greatest admirers, and he never fails to ask me about you and Becky."

  "Why hasn't he spoken up then? There've been enough opportunities over the years."

  Reed’s chuckle was rueful. "You have become an intimidating figure, Rob, and Fritz has reason to believe that you would not welcome such advances. You did mark him for life, and he feels that you glare at him at each encounter."

  "He’s been right."

  "Then you will not consider him?"

  "I didn’t mean that at all. If he is willing to let the past be, I reckon I can try." Rob laughed lightly. "My scalp healed itself from their hauling on it, but his butt will wear a horseshoe mark forever, so I guess if he can forget it, I can.

  "You really think he is the right man? Is his English good? Most Germans stick pretty tight to their own language."

  "He is the only man, and he is second generation in the colonies. His father insisted that the family master English, and Baumhauer's is as clear as yours or mine."

  "Then I'll see him. What about Bright Morning?"

  "That would be the Widow Pratt. Mrs. Pratt has lived alone for many years. She has been a school teacher among us, but her age has cut back her teaching. She can use some help, and no one could teach your Bright Morning more about being a proper English lady."

  Rob's head shook. "I'm not so certain that Bright Morning or any other of the released girls will take that strongly to lady-like ways, but if the widow Pratt is the one, so be it."

  "How will you pay, Rob? No one is likely to take on extra children simply from good will. The times are too difficult for that."

  "I will pay in gold. I will send some across the mountain, and if you are willing, you can keep payments up to date."

  "Of course, I am willing." Reed hesitated before again speaking, but Rob guessed he knew what was coming.

  "Rob, you are my son-in-law, but you are still mysterious to me. How can you have all of the money you obviously possess when the rest of us subsist mostly on barter and firm handshakes? If you can tell me without believing I am prying, I would dearly love to know."

  Rob had no intentions of revealing the source of his hoard, but he could safely expose a lesser origin.

  "Well, as you know, the Indians have traded with whites for two hundred years or so. They have picked up gold and silver through their trading, and of course, through war. Indians like gold as decorations almost as well as they have liked my iron arrow points. So, I try to get coins in exchange." His grin became rueful. "That only works some of the time, and I get a lot of pelts and even pemmican."

  Reed accepted the story, but Rob knew that he had told only the shallowest of truths. Shatto gold and silver came from a far more reliable source; one that Rob intended never to explain.

  General Braddock's great army had crumpled and fled in utter route before the French and Indian attack, and as a paid scout, Rob Shatto had drifted away with them.

  Choosing his targets and keeping to the woods, Rob stung the advancing enemy as often as he could, but he only accidentally stumbled upon Gunner Sweet and Lieutenant Wheelwright attempting to bury a cannon. A hasty explanation disclosed that the paymaster had secreted Braddock's entire payroll within the cannon's bore, so Shatto pitched in.

  Hostiles found them and Wheelwright died. Sweet was wounded, but Rob killed the attackers. Seasons later, Sweet, now renamed Miller, and Rob returned for the payroll. Braddock's gold was believed lost or captured by the French. Only Will Miller and Rob Shatto knew its hiding place in an oak chest beneath a huge root on Castle Knob that overlooked Rob's homestead.

  The Rob Shattos had more gold than their lifetimes would ever require. Thomas Reed would never know the story, nor would others lest some word trickle to ears that would believe such treasure should be returned to army coffers.

  Rob's meeting with Fritz Baumhauer was more pleasant than either could have expected. The passing of years had mellowed Baumhauer, and it appeared to Rob that the middle-aged blacksmith was indeed the right man for Ironhawk's education.

  They had quickly adopted first names, and Rob could sense the smith's vast relief at having put a bad experience to rest.

  Rob said, "The tricks will be to teach the boy English, help him learn civilized ways, and also teach him your iron skills."


  Rob spent some time explaining the skills in which he was interested. "I want Ironhawk to learn the working of iron. He is to be your apprentice, but your reward will be in gold not in the volume of his work.

  "I want the boy to gain the feel of iron working so that he might make special things. Perhaps he will turn to arrowpoints and ax heads as I have, but he might also be a maker of trivets or candle holders or ladles. I want him to know more than horse and mule shoe making."

  Baumhauer understood and accepted, and Rob marched to do battle with the forces that controlled Ironhawk's destiny. He doubted that he would encounter much resistance from officialdom, but he had sent Thomas Reed ahead to smooth away any bumps in the procedures.

  Except for the Right Reverend Doneghy, colonial authorities were highly appreciative of Rob Shatto's interest. It was clear that two of their charges would be settled into good hands. The Widow Pratt had taught many of their children, and to Rob's increasing pleasure, Fritz Baumhauer was considered an expert smith and a solid and respectable citizen. Things were looking up.

  Rob chose to council with Ironhawk and Bright Morning, seated together, separated from the other returnees.

  The children sat shoulder to shoulder with Rob in opposition, but there was hope in their eyes, and his words and gestures were studied with intense concentration.

  "Quehana has labored in the interests of Ironhawk and his lodge sister, Bright Morning. Whites are not always easy to deal with, but on this day, many happy things have been decided.

  "Ironhawk," Rob turned to the youth. "It will please you to know that you will remain in this village to learn the working of iron as your voice from the clouds told me it would be. It will further please you to hear that Bright Morning will remain also in this village where she will be taught the ways of white women."

  Rob allowed his voice to become solemn and heavy with meaning. "Quehana does not claim that these tasks will be easy, for they will not be, but paths are not often smooth even in the best of times.

  "Here all will be strange, but before the cold giant returns you will know much of what is needed. By the next warm moons it will seem that you will know all that is worth discovering.

  "I urge you to allow all that is told to enter into your memories. Be aware that in a full turning of the earth you, Ironhawk, will be considered a man, and you will be able to go as you wish. If you choose to return to your brother’s lodge, you can do so. You may wish to raise your own lodge and invite Bright Morning to join you."

  In his intensity, Rob had leaned toward his audience. He straightened and resumed the formality of serious council.

  "It may also be that you will discover good things among the whites and will wish to live as I do with a foot in each world." He detected interest in Ironhawk’s eyes and spoke further.

  "Because that may be so, Quehana requests that you learn all that is to be known about the white people's language. Learn to speak it so well that no one will know that it is speech recently discovered. For the next turning of the earth mother leave our Delaware language behind. Speak it no more until the leaves are again large. When you whisper alone choose English, which is the name of the white language.’

  Ironhawk's repetition of his word was decent, and Rob required Bright Morning to also say "English" until she almost had it.

  "So you will learn the English words, and by speaking only that language you will soon think in it without returning to Delaware meanings. That, my brother and sister, will be important for the rest of your lives."

  Then Rob whispered the most important detail to them, and Ironhawk's heart sang because he knew the words were true.

  "The most powerful of white secrets is the skill of writing and reading of writing. Is that not true, Ironhawk?"

  The Hawk knew it was so, and Rob went on.

  "The whites who will teach you know the secrets of reading. Learn from them so that when I come again you can show Quehana that you have gained knowledge.

  "Believe this Delaware uncle when he says that if you can read the English of the whites you will be wiser than the mightiest of Delaware chiefs, and you will stand far ahead of most whites who cannot speak the tongue of the noble Delaware. Great will be your knowledge and better will you prosper in cabin or lodge."

  It was not Rob's task to deliver his charges to either home or workplace, but he drew Ironhawk aside for further talk before he departed.

  "I will come to your place at the iron making without announcement, Ironhawk. My lodge lies beyond the mountain, and my visits here are few. When I come I will seek you out, and you may speak of your progress.

  "I leave you with a single final warning that you must take to your heart. Your trials in this place will be many, but you must bear them as you bore the agony of your branding.

  "Some who are not yet men may wish to test you. Fight them if you must, but do not kill anyone. Do not maim them or mark them for life. Theirs are not Delaware ways, and you must live within the laws of this place. Recover your tomahawk when you can, and hold it close to your heart, but do not use it in combat.

  "Do you understand, Ironhawk? Because in this there can be no mistake. In this you must heed my words as if I were Tree Shadow your father now among the honored ones."

  Ironhawk swore he understood, and Rob believed he did. If the boy could contain the insults that were sure to be heaped upon him was still a question, but Rob had done all that he could.

  Riding homeward toward the mountain the Shattos and the Elans talked mostly about the children Rob had placed.

  Jack said, "The thing we keep forgetting is that these are not Indian children. This is a white boy and girl. They will not get the rawhiding Indians would."

  "They will get more than enough, Jack. At least Ironhawk will. Boys can be brutal with one another's feelings, and Ironhawk has been raised in the lodge where slights are often answered with sharp edges."

  "Once he gets his hair cut and is dressed in cloth no one will tell the difference."

  "They will know, and his talk will embarrass him for a long time."

  "Well, he'll have his sister to help him keep calm."

  Rob laughed aloud, and the three turned to discover what was so amusing.

  Rob said, "Do you recall that before the hopeful parents were allowed to view the prisoners, I predicted that neither Ironhawk nor Bright Morning would be identified?"

  Martha Elan said, "I remember, Rob. Just how did you know that?"

  "Well, a fact you all don’t know is that the Hawk and Bright Morning are not brother and sister. True, they were raised together, but they were delivered to the lodge of Tree Shadow by different war parties from different tribes on different raids.

  "Anyone asking about them was seeing a brother and sister, not separate children taken in different places."

  Becky was shocked. "Rob, you should have spoken up."

  Rob was unswayed. "Not me, Becky. I don’t like anything about the returning of adopted captives like those two are. Separating them would only add misery to their lives, and if the people in charge knew they weren’t brother and sister they would be sent to far distant places quicker than you could wink."

  Rob added a clincher. "Haven't you noticed how they hold hands and sit almost touching each other? That isn't just brother and sister acting. They may not have discovered it yet, but they will mean more to each other than being blood related.

  "Keep in mind that they know that they aren't blood relatives, but you'll notice that neither have mentioned it.

  "Now why do you think that is?"

  Rob answered his own question. "Those two are just now becoming adults. They want to stay together, and I will bet all of the powder in my horn that about this time next year I will be in Carlisle explaining to everybody why it is all right for Ironhawk and Bright Morning to join together in whatever ceremony of marriage they choose."

  — — —

  The Sheenes also rode from Carlisle village. They chose the great
Allegheny Trail that would avoid the Blue Mountain and Shatto's holdings within Sherman's Valley.

  Zach Sheene was reasonably satisfied with the placing of Bright Morning in the village at Carlisle. Sooner or later he would snatch her, and the colonial authorities could howl and search as they wished, for Sheene’s scheme was seamless in its certainty.

  Zach would have Indians from the Ohio do the snatching. He would take delivery somewhere far from this place, and none would be the wiser. Perhaps he would have The Animal kill the Indians to end all possibilities of tracing the deed to him.

  Once Bright Morning was The Animal's, the Sheenes would prosper. Zach knew his son, although he shuddered at the relationship. The Animal's needs would keep him controllable, and old Zach knew just how to feed those hungers.

  Chapter Eleven

  1767

  William Hawk allowed a noncommittal "Mmmm," which the enthusiastic peddler accepted as a positive sign. Hawk used the sound often, as it could mean whatever a listener chose it to mean.

  It was a cool day with mountainous white clouds drifting, and William only half listened as the supplicant hawked his wares with fervored desperation.

  William would liked to have stripped to a loincloth and taken to the woods for a long run toward the welcoming rise of Kittatinny Mountain, but such opportunities were only rarely indulged. His business was iron, and the deal being offered should demand his attention.

  The peddler had reached the end of his westward trek with half a wagon load of roughed-out horse shoes still unsold. And the fact was, William Hawk had him.

  Beyond Carlisle the road worsened and the villages became increasingly poverty ridden, single-stored sleeping places along the great western trail. The peddler's iron would be traded here or carried far back east to the larger towns where iron shoes were already in abundance—which could mean barely breaking even. The miscalculation was likely to cost the peddler dearly, and as spokesman for the Fritz Baumhauer smithy, young William Hawk would decide yea or nay.