Ironhawk (Perry County, Pennsylvania Frontier Series Book 6)

by Roy F. Chandler

  Hawk had been the deal maker for the past year, and the peddler had faced the youth's abilities on two other occasions. Dickering with a mere stripling was exasperating, but if you wished to sell to Fritz Baumhauer, you had to first convince young Hawk.

  William Hawk was more than a little mysterious. Although his speech was now almost normal, only a year past Hawk had spoken with an accent the peddler could not place. The told story was that Hawk had been taken by savages and held for some time, but details were hard to come by. The peddler had asked around because trading in metal was his livelihood, and in Baumhauer's case he was usually able to reverse his ordinary buy and sell dealings which could result in a tidy profit.

  For all of his trading years the peddler had purchased finished iron goods and brought them to the border settlements to sell. The appearance of young Hawk had added a twist because Hawk and Baumhauer manufactured their own finished items in styles not encountered elsewhere and therefore desirable to the eastern markets.

  Now, the peddler sold and traded his finished eastern goods on his way west, and in doing so acquired rough iron useful to Baumhauer, which he traded to Hawk for their finished pieces, which he then resold on his way east. The circular trading could be rewarding, but the success of the return trip depended on dealing advantageously with William Hawk.

  When the peddler's torrent of words eased, Hawk said, "Well, we expect the iron business to be slow this summer, and we cannot afford a large inventory." His counter offer wilted the hopes of the peddler, but Hawk's dealings always did. The youth had no mercy! The peddler wished mightily that he could hire young Hawk to work for him.

  Ironhawk had himself chosen the name William, and Fritz Baumhauer declared it a name honored through history. Such a renaming had been necessary, he had been told, because men were often called by their first names, and to be called "Iron" would not do at all.

  Those first moon turnings, called months in English, had been difficult beyond imagining. Things hard to learn began with the art of eating at a table with utensils, but there were greater trials that were only rarely discussed.

  He suffered the shortening of his hair, and he fought with dogged determination to learn to speak the English tongue, but sitting in chairs, even on the seat of the out-house, had come hard to one who had routinely rested cross-legged or elbow-supported on floors covered with warm furs.

  Other than small children, whites never sat on their floors, and that lesson was hammered into both Ironhawk and Bright Morning as a first and never to be forgotten requirement.

  The iron making was another chapter entirely. He truly had been directed by the Great Spirit because from even his first awkward attempts, the feel of the heat-softened iron flowed up his arm and into his mind as if he were one with the glowing metal.

  Fritz Baumhauer reveled in his student’s adaptability. He poured his wisdom into the youth’s ear, struggling through the lack of common language and tempting progress with clever tricks of iron mongering that sometimes brought boyish yelps of appreciation from William Hawk.

  Baumhauer often marveled at the completeness of the Indian name Ironhawk. He found himself studying the brand on the youth’s chest and was wryly amused that he bore a similar Shatto branding on his posterior. Rob Shatto brandished a remarkable technique, for as he had redirected the life of Fritz Baumhauer, so had he placed the youthful Ironhawk on a proper trail.

  William Hawk absorbed knowledge as if he were a sea sponge. He was sent to Mrs. Pratt, where he sat beside his younger sister for the widow’s no-nonsense teaching. For most youths, those would have been miserable periods of regimentation which would lead to flights of reckless or confrontational behavior, but William Hawk brought home his slate and his book, and he studied nightly.

  Hawk, Baumhauer supposed was turning out to be the kind of son, neighbor, or employee that most dreamed about, but that William Hawk would have a trading bent that squeezed the ultimate profit from every dealing could never have been anticipated. Within a year, Baumhauer gratefully turned over his buying and most of his selling to William.

  Thomas Reed also became enamored of the quick-to-learn Hawk, and Baumhauer suspected that the ordinary and general store’s wily proprietor was the source of Hawk's skill at milking a trade.

  In the first weeks there had been instances with local youths bullying the unlearned William Hawk, but those attempts were short-lived. On one occasion, Hawk had thrown dirt into the eyes of a larger and aggressive youth, then dragged him about by his scalp until the bully howled his defeat, but the most memorable incident was remarked throughout the village.

  Hawk had brought to the smithy a tomahawk hammered for him by Rob Shatto. The youth had hidden it in the forest until he could safely possess the weapon. The tomahawk was of interest to Baumhauer for he seldom saw examples of Shatto's work, and the care taken with the tomahawk as well as its distinctive design appealed to the smith's senses. The weapon usually lay unremarked atop a large framing log that supported an open side of the smithy.

  On the day of the incident a trio of older youths chose to hang about near the smithy while exercising their clumsy wit at William Hawk's expense. Baumhauer finally had enough and turned to roust them, but he was an instant too late.

  Hawk snatched his weapon and leaped to face the three. With a screech that tortured ears and dissolved courage he hurled the tomahawk which buried itself in the oak beside which the youths lurked. Hawk followed his weapon, wielding a glowing metal strap that he whirled as if to club the bullies senseless. His maniacal screech again ripped at hearing, and the trio ran as if their lives depended on it. Baumhauer had to wonder if perhaps they were right. Hawk's ferocity was frightening for anyone to see.

  The incident met with general approval, for the town, too, was regularly annoyed by the crop of disrespectful juveniles.

  There was still an occasional war whoop from hiding that Hawk ignored, but never again did village youths challenge Ironhawk.

  Thomas Reed, the storekeeper, had to remind himself that Hawk was not an Indian; he was of white birth, and who could know the levels of intellect or education that his parents had possessed? Surely, Reed reasoned, Hawk's parents had been of high station, for the mind of William sucked in ideas like water poured on dry sand.

  Hawk read well long before his speech settled down. Instead of belaboring vowels, consonant sounds, and rules of grammar that dulled most students into boredom, the widow Pratt decided that these children were too old and chose to drill both William and Bright Morning with cards that bore useful words.

  The technique was pure memorization and simple eye recognition, but the system provided rapid progress, and within weeks, both students knew enough words to construct and recognize simpler sentences. With immediate success came enthusiasm and increased interest.

  A Pratt technique that intrigued both Fritz Baumhauer and Thomas Reed was the creating of personal books for each student.

  The widow said, "William, this will be your book. Your first page will read,

  I am William Hawk and I live in Carlisle.

  She wrote the words in her flowing script, and required her student to repeat them a few times. William was then sent to read his book to everyone he knew.

  Hawk read by placing his finger beneath each word and speaking that word with his best clarity. The second day the widow tested the student by pointing to each word at random and making certain that he recognized and could say the word. When he could, Hawk was rewarded by the inclusion of another page of the magical reading.

  This time, the youth was allowed to choose some of his own wording. Hawk's second page read,

  I lived with the Delaware for many years, but now I live with Mister Fritz Baumhauer.

  The boy again went forth to read his book, and he was required to read the entire book, not just the daily addition.

  The widow Pratt claimed that except for special subjects, everyone used only a few hundred words, and that if those words were mastered,
a student would read with skills adequate to enable him to work out new words and to add them to his or her vocabulary.

  A special challenge and one of particular reward to William and Bright Morning was a requirement to write notes to each other. They competed by including new words discovered in their simple primers or asked about. Bright Morning usually stumped her brother because she regularly turned to the always willing Mrs. Pratt for new discoveries.

  Thomas Reed observed Hawk's progress with astonishment. He recognized that the youth possessed an alert and willing mind, but still . . . might not all students profit from similar teaching? He proposed that other children be taught by recognizing words and only later exposed to the laborious and mind dulling letter-sound drills, but his fellow townsmen rose in wrath claiming that the best ways were already known. Recognizing entrenched opinion, Reed backed away.

  Rob Shatto appeared on occasion. Hawk would look up, and Quehana would be there. Those occasions were like gems among stones for the youth, and often Rob allowed their speech to turn to the Delaware tongue. Then the talk would flow as smoothly as water, and Ironhawk would again feel the tug of the wilderness and rejoice that someday he would return to the mountains.

  William Hawk knew of Rob Shatto's arrangement with Fritz Baumhauer. The blacksmith had insisted that the boy be included not only in body but in mind. There were to be no secrets. Yet within the first year, Baumhauer knew that his bargain to train the youth was becoming unexpectedly profitable, and that when William Hawk left his employment, his place could not easily be refilled.

  Hawk was innovative. He discovered new patterns to old things. He personalized a twisty end for iron kitchen tools that was soon recognizable as a Baumhauer piece and therefore well-made and desirable. Later, the smith discovered Hawk's Ironhawk brand burned into the wooden handles of some implements. Baumhauer did not interfere. Hawk used his head, and the business profited from his innovations.

  Thomas Reed discovered unsuspected abilities when the youth chose to wait on general store customers. His still prominent accent somehow appealed to the lady shoppers, and his white-toothed smile was obliging and appropriately humble. The customers liked young Hawk—poor boy that suffered so grievously among those savage captors.

  In Hawk's second year, Reed too began to use his trading and dealing skills. William Hawk could consummate a tight and profitable compromise that left both sides satisfied. That ability, Reed recognized, was the great secret of shop keeping.

  Bible reading arrived as a normal route to better reading and proper study of what was important in the world. Bright Morning forged ahead in biblical studies, for Ironhawk found himself in conflict with much of what was written. He had, after all, heard the voice of The Warrior, and what had that revelation of still living spirits of honored uncles to do with the white tales of ancient battles and people with strange sounding names?

  The Bible was nightly fare in the Baumhauer household, and William Hawk read and listened, but he found much to question and little to enjoy. On one of Quehana's few visits he asked about his conflicts.

  Rob said, "The good thing to remember is that a man is free to choose. Most that you will encounter believe the Bible is The Great Spirit's personal word. Some insist on it until they get annoying.

  "Others ignore God, the Manitou, The Great Spirit or whatever name you prefer to use and just plug ahead with their living."

  Shatto paused to find words for seldom expressed feelings. "If it is my own way that you are asking about, I'd say that I believe the Bible is right about most things, but I'd also throw in that there are probably other ways and other beliefs that are as helpful. Might be that the Bible isn't all that God or The Great Spirit put out to help us understand.

  "My recommendation on this subject is that you keep learning, and somewhere down the line you will decide how your stick floats. Even then, I'd suggest you keep an open mind because a man's ideas change, and maybe they grow. So, new thinking and believing will be likely as you get older."

  Chapter Twelve

  Of course, William Hawk had learned much about James Cummens. Quehana explained Blue Moccasin's white side and his importance in trade. Once aware, Hawk learned more.

  That Blue Moccasin was an influential businessman in Philadelphia, purported to be the greatest of white cities, appeared regularly in Hawk's mind.

  As his own business insights developed, it was natural that the youthful trader would wonder if he might not avail their smithy of Blue Moccasin's immense markets. If they could . . . At times, Hawk's imaginings rushed ahead with visions of ironsmiths lined at forges with horse drawn carts streaming their finished wares to Cummens’s vast warehouses.

  His letter to James Cummens irrevocably altered Ironhawk's life in directions he could not have anticipated.

  The young trader worked diligently at his letter, and under Mrs. Pratt's exacting eye he redrafted his composition as it progressed.

  The trouble began with the widow's suggestion that he add a personal note following his business explanations and proposals.

  Ironhawk wrote:

  "Within the year I plan to raise my own lodge near the village edge where there is good water, and the trees grow large. This will be my home until I return to the land between the mountains."

  Mrs. Pratt was pleased to learn that William was making plans for a secure future, but was unsure about the returning to the wilderness part.

  Then devastation appeared. Hawk wrote:

  "I cannot live longer within the house of Fritz Baumhauer because I will marry my lodge sister, Bright Morning, in both the white and Delaware manners. We hope that our children will be many, and as Quehana predicted in the sweat lodge, we will live with a foot in both Delaware and English camps."

  Mrs. Pratt shooed the surprised Hawk from her home and took to her bed with the vapors.

  Within moments, however, the widow forced her recovery because it was clear that immediate action had to be taken. She berated herself for not noticing that the closeness between her charge and her brother was more than should be expected. Now the continual hand holding, walking out together, and whispering in the infernal Indian tongue had greater significance. She should have realized, but who could have expected such behavior?

  The horrified Mrs. Pratt had never heard of such travesty even among the savages. To marry one’s sister was beyond comprehension, and the need to act overcame even the fainting weakness practiced by proper ladies during periods of emotional stress.

  She chose first to confer with her charge, Bright Morning.

  The widow asked, "Has William spoken to you as a man does to a woman?"

  Bright Morning’s answer was as open as usual. "Only in small ways, Mrs. Pratt."

  Then she completed the widow’s emotional devastation with her dimpled smile and shy addition. "But I believe that he is going to ask for my hand. He speaks often of raising our lodge, and he speaks of children, and he has not mentioned another woman.

  "I have always hoped that he would choose me, for Ironhawk is all that I could desire."

  Fanning herself at an exhausting rate, Mrs. Pratt excused Bright Morning and again retired to her bed for recovery. She had often considered bestowing her own last name upon Bright Morning, for one was needed, but now? She could think no further.

  At least it was not too late. Apparently, nothing untoward had occurred, but she should act without further wait. Who could tell what savage ritual might lie beyond civilized imaginings? The widow girded herself, chose a sturdy walking stick, and marched to the home of Fritz Baumhauer.

  The honorable and devout Christian Fritz Baumhauer shouted, "What?"

  The widow Pratt was slightly mollified by the impassioned response. She was further pleased when Mother Baumhauer covered her ears and fled the room in obvious horror. The widow waited patiently for the woman's certain return because the passing of such inflammatory information was not to be missed, and Mister Baumhauer's nearly incoherent ramblings support
ed her own apprehensions.

  Baumhauer could not believe it. He had detected no perversions in the youth he considered almost a son. He had taken the boy to his very bosom, and as a family they had studied the Bible's holy word together, and . . . Baumhauer's reasoning faltered a trifle there because the Bible did mention incestuous coverings, and who could know what primitive Indian moralities remained deeply bedded in the mind of William Hawk?

  What were they to do? The question rang among them, but a truly best answer eluded the concerned trio. If William had been his son— which would have meant that Bright Morning would be his daughter . . . Baumhauer's thoughts again considered at how fine that could be, and he had to jerk himself back to the subject—well, he would take his ox whip to the boy and end for all time such perverse considerations.

  The smith immediately recalled that he had once before intended to lash a human and had suffered permanent scarring for such barbaric foolishness.

  That awareness brought their solution clearly and positively to his mind, and Baumhauer's sudden smile of relief raised the furrowed brows of both ladies.

  "Ladies, the answer to our problem lies in Rob Shatto. Shatto brought the boy and the girl to us, and he holds a moral power over them that none of us will ever equal."

  Baumhauer wished that he could explain his certainty of Rob’s ability to influence the grown children but feared his words would not be enough. He tried anyway.

  "Among the Indians, Rob Shatto is held in ultimate respect. To invoke his name, Quehana, is similar to calling upon our burgess or perhaps one of the Penns.

  "Quehana, it seems, has been a fierce killer of enemies and has been specially honored by the most respected warriors and elders among our Indian tribes.

  "There is more, of course, and the blacksmith blushed in memory. "We all know of Shatto’s branding of my own person and my immediate abandonment of barbarous ways. I mention that shameful incident because as Quehana, Shatto also branded the chest of William Hawk, which incident, William explains, has directed his life ever since."