The women appeared unconvinced, so Baumhauer continued. "I am told that among the Delaware, honored persons are revered far more than they might be in our society. The elderly are held in great respect, and because there is no written language, tales of mighty deeds are passed at evening fires and on ceremonial occasions. Those regularly mentioned in such tales hold powerful sway over the people who listen. To some, they approach what we might consider holiness."
Mrs. Pratt sniffed her objection to religious comparisons, and Baumhauer hastened to mollify her sensibilities.
"Now, I do not imply that we must feel the same. Such devotion can remain a savage belief, but I am describing a genuine condition, and I can assure you that William holds Rob Shatto in the highest of esteem."
The smith judged his audience and believed them prepared for his suggestion.
"My proposal is that we immediately dispatch a note to Rob demanding his rapid appearance in Carlisle. We can leave the reasons unannounced lest others read the message, but we can couch our note in urgency, and I feel sure that his response will be timely."
There were nods, and Baumhauer could feel their relief. Mrs. Pratt entered her requirements.
"In the meantime, the children must be removed from each other. Temptation could strike as Bright Morning is . . . ah . . . no longer a child and her moral strength may not be as strong as that of a young woman raised in a Christian home." The trio was in agreement.
Baumhauer considered their next step. "It happens that Robert Robinson is in the village. He passed only moments before your arrival, Mrs. Pratt, and he will be the perfect messenger."
Mrs. Pratt was not as certain. "Robert has been seeing Doctor Speck, hasn't he? It is my understanding that he still suffers from his wounds."
"That is correct, Mrs. Pratt, and it may be that Robert Robinson will never fully recover from the musket balls that struck him, but his disabilities are small and more annoyance than injuries. He is much the woodsman he has always been.
"More important is that he rides a good horse, he is Rob Shatto's close friend, and his path home leads not too far from Shatto's mansion, or so I have been told."
There was agreement, and Baumhauer allowed that he would provide the coin to pay Robert for his detour if Mrs. Pratt would compose their message.
— — —
Rob Shatto believed that Robert Robinson was the only real woodsman in the entire Robinson clan. The rest of them struggled at it, but they remained armed farmers, not frontiersmen.
To villagers, like the people in Carlisle, anybody coming from the mountains carrying a long gun and perhaps wearing some skin clothing was a border scout and surely an Indian fighter. Shatto knew better. Few whites were at home in the woods, and far fewer could compete with Indians of any tribe in fighting beyond civilization's borders.
He had seen it too many times. Whites marched out to put down Indians and had their scalps taken. If whites forted up and stayed smart they often survived.
Robert had gotten shot up because his clan had decided to do battle with hostiles. Despite Robert's protests and Quehana's advice, the Robinsons had marched in strength with Robert a reluctant participant. The Shawnee ambushed them, and the Robinsons lost relatives and friends. The whites ran like deer, but some were overtaken and slaughtered. Robert was shot while finishing off a brave who had just killed his brother and was fortunate to have lived.
Rob was always pleased to see Robert Robinson, and they each regularly detoured to visit the other. Rob was inside when Robert rode in, but he called from far out, and Rob was at his door to greet him.
Robert dropped from his horse and studied the dried scalps above Rob's door with a certain envy. He always did, so Rob waited him out.
"You know, Quehana, there's something almost biblical about nailing your enemy's hide over your portal, isn't there?"
"You're getting mixed up with the Israelites wiping sheep's blood over their doors to ward off God's plague—at least I think that was how it went, Robert."
"Close enough. Anyway, I'm here on business. Fritz Baumhauer paid me to dash on over with a letter. Said it was important, and that it had to get to you right away."
Robinson grinned, "I liked that, seein' as I was coming here anyhow."
Robinson dismounted, offering a few minor curses to nullify the pain in his slow healing wounds and breezed on into the home, his voice strong in greeting and banter with Flat and Becky.
Rob slid his knife blade beneath a wax seal and unfolded the single page. The message was short, and although signed by Fritz Baumhauer, Rob recognized Mrs. Pratt's neat script.
The note was cryptic, leaving Rob in the dark, but urgency was clear. He was needed in Carlisle, now.
It had to be Ironhawk. What else was possible? But what could the youth have done? Rob could think of too many things. On the other hand, William Hawk had been performing extremely well, and why didn't Fritz simply say what was the matter?
It was curious, but Rob doubted that Mrs. Pratt and Fritz Baumhauer would conspire to force him into a pointless ride. Why the widowed teacher's involvement? Was she the best writer, or could the trouble involve both of the young white-Delaware?
Rob stomped into his house, announced his intentions to go directly to Carlisle, asked Robert to lay over for two days to keep the place safe, and went for his horse.
When he returned, Flat waited with his blanket roll and a few basic supplies. Robert Robinson said he would stay around if Jack Elan could not, but one or the other would be on hand. Rob kissed Becky, patted her shoulder and was gone at a smart trot.
He examined the height of the sun and was pleased that it was summer when the days were long. He doubted that he could be in Carlisle before dark, but he would not be much longer than that.
The Baumhauers had barely settled for their evening meal when Rob tapped on their door.
Baumhauer was dumbfounded. He had not expected the long hunter for a number of days, and it seemed as if Robert Robinson had barely ridden out of town. Perhaps they had passed or met on the trail.
The blacksmith offered his corner for Rob's rifle and urged the borderer to a seat at their table. Sensing no urgency, Rob was pleased to join the family.
In Delaware, Rob asked, "Is there trouble, Ironhawk?"
William Hawk answered in the same language. "I know of none, Quehana."
He paused in thought. "Although, my teacher, Mrs. Pratt has been cold and has distanced me from my sister for two full days."
Again he paused to consider. "Perhaps the teacher is ill. She has not looked well for both days."
Not until the meal was finished did Fritz Baumhauer address the supposed difficulty. He stepped beyond his porch, and with only Rob, strolled through the dark toward the smithy's banked fires.
The man cleared his throat nervously, and as they reached the forge he tossed bundled grass on the fire to give light. Without statement he handed Rob Ironhawk's letter to James Cummens.
Expecting an explosion of anger and insult, Baumhauer stepped warily away, but Rob read through the letter without comment before handing back the folded page.
"That is good. James Cummens may be of service to your business. He is powerful, as you know, and if he favors Ironhawk you will all profit."
Baumhauer felt his eyes bulge. "Not that part, Rob. The last part."
Confused, Rob said, "Well, I was coming to that, and it is excellent as well. Those two have been with each other almost all of their lives, and they have been through many travails together. They should do well as man and wife either here or among the tribes, if that is their choice."
Baumhauer could hardly speak. "Rob, they are brother and sister." The smith’s agitation was plain, and finally, Rob understood.
Rob managed to choke back his amusement. How could Baumhauer or the widow know the true relationship. He had never spoken, and the young people would scarcely think to mention something they understood so well.
Of course, the good pe
ople were appalled, as he would be if he did not know. As far as he knew, no society tolerated joining by brothers and sisters. No wonder Mrs. Pratt had become ill. Ironhawk was fortunate that she had not stabbed him.
Rob regrouped, and spoke with sincerity.
"I believe this is something that we should speak about in a single gathering. Can you bring together all who are aware of this note, Fritz?"
"Easily, Rob. There are only three of us. And the children themselves, of course."
"I doubt it will be necessary to include them in what I have to say."
Baumhauer was not so sure. "We are relying on you to settle this matter, Rob. You have the most influence with these poor misguided children, and you could succeed where we might fail—which would surely be disastrous for them."
Rob again stifled a grin. It was past time to think of Ironhawk and Bright Morning as children. "Fritz, my concerned friend, I am certain that I can bring the matter to a most satisfactory solution."
Baumhauer felt that Shatto was taking the matter far too lightly.
At Rob's suggestion, they gathered at Thomas Reed's best window table, but despite the setting, the Widow Pratt's pursed lips barely allowed refusal of a small salutary sip of the ordinary's excellent claret. Clearly, Mrs. Pratt was deeply disturbed.
Rob took immediate charge. He mentioned the letter contents and his appreciation of how distressing William Hawk's plans had to be, but, he assured them, there were mitigating influences.
Inwardly, Rob was enjoying himself. His ability to solve their worries was gratifying, and he was thoroughly pleased that Ironhawk and Bright Morning had chosen one another. In Rob's opinion, the marriage boded well for them both. He cleared his throat in proper oratorical form and got to it.
"Fortunately, I am privileged to information that you could not know. I have this information directly from Tree Shadow, William and Bright Morning's lodge father. I will add here that Tree Shadow, now deceased, was an individual of impeccable honor, and as you will discover, of merciful and caring nature.
"The lodges of Tree Shadow were favored resting stops for many bands of travelers from many tribes because Tree Shadow was an honored Delaware elder who shared ideas and welcomed visitors.
"Passing war parties also occasionally rested with Tree Shadow, but pauses by those bands were rare because warriors travel swiftly and secretly.
"In their infancies, William and Bright Morning were given to Tree Shadow because the warriors who had taken them became disinterested in carrying squalling and filthy babies any further. Tree Shadow accepted, for if he had not, the children would likely have been killed or left in the forest to die."
There was shuddering among the ladies, and Fritz Baumhauer's head shake was condemnatory.
Rob shrugged. "We can agree that war is terrible, but it exists, and tragedies are known to us all.
"You may have heard some of what I have described from the children, but it appears that they have not mentioned that they arrived at Tree Shadow's lodge with different war parties, from different tribes, during different summers."
There was a long moment of concentration as the gathering digested Rob's information. Then, Baumhauer's face lighted, and Mrs. Pratt gasped aloud. Rob waited for one of them to speak.
Baumhauer said, "That must mean that they cannot possibly have come from the same family." Mrs. Pratt's lips began to unpurse, and her fingers sought the claret pitcher.
Rob was explicit. "Exactly. The possibility that Shawnee and Seneca, who barely tolerate each other and do not war in the same places and rarely against the same enemies, stole children from the same family in succeeding years is beyond considering.
"It is undeniable that William and Bright Morning are not related. They are not brother and sister in the English sense.
"You will now realize that Ironhawk, William as you prefer, stated in his letter that they were lodge brother and sister. He means that they were raised in the same lodge, and by so saying implies that they are not born of the same parents. Do you see that difference?"
They did, and Rob could feel their relief. He believed it was now time to nail down acceptance of Ironhawk's intentions to join with Bright Morning.
Quehana smiled within because if he knew the Hawk at all, what they thought about it would amount to little, anyway. Ironhawk would, more than likely, do as he wished, and it appeared that Bright Morning was in agreement.
"As William and Bright Morning have known each other throughout their memories and have shared their lives through childhood and now continue sharing during their step into a different world, I can think of nothing better than that they become man and wife.
"They are old enough. Some might believe that Bright Morning is a year late. I believe she is now sixteen years of age, and, as we know, many English, Scot, and German girls in this and other villages marry at fifteen and younger. Sixteen is considered long among most of the cabin people within the mountains.
"Life moves swiftly, and there are no years to waste on this frontier. Ironhawk and Bright Morning have their lives to live and their futures to begin, and so it should be."
Rob rested his case, and there were no objections. Instead, the discussion revolved about keeping the pair appropriately separated until nuptials could be correctly arranged and what would happen thereafter.
Baumhauer suggested that, until the couple raised their own building, he could attach a shed to the side of his house for their occupancy. The gathering thought that a handsome offer as buildings did not simply appear, and time and effort would be involved in the construction.
Rob suggested that William could begin the construction immediately because his personal efforts would make the task more meaningful.
The Widow Pratt agreed on the basis that time could be of the essence in such an affair, and the quicker a couple was properly wed the better.
So, Ironhawk's future was smoothly handled, and Rob left the announcing and forthcoming discussions with the soon-to-be-marrieds to the others. In early dawn he left his hay-softened bed within Baumhauer's stable and rode north toward the mountain.
A short way beyond the village he passed a still sleeping camp. He did not pause, but he could see by their pack animals and the bales and panniers stacked nearby that the men were traders.
Old Zach Sheene lay with his eyes open and watched Quehana pass. The sight of the tall horseman pleased him. Shatto was heading north. He was unlikely to simply turn around and return to the village. That was far better than wondering if the frontiersman might come riding in on them at an inopportune moment.
The time had come to seize The Animal's woman, and when the Sheenes made their move, the last thing they would need would be a tracker like Rob Shatto lurking close by.
Chapter Thirteen
Zach Sheene suspected that even if he had looked closer, Rob Shatto might not have immediately recognized the Sheenes. Thanks to The Animal the Sheenes had risen in the world, and Zach had demanded that he and Chek and Chok change appropriately.
The Sheenes were now clean shaven, except for trimmed mustaches, and as soon as they reached a store or found a tailor they would abandon their hide and linsey-woolsey clothing for more civilized attire. The Sheenes now had cash money.
The Animal had been long away, but when he appeared, he offered a coin bag of serious weight, and his father forgivingly stroked the man-animal's matted fur and questioned how his odious son had come upon such wealth.
The tale was long, but its heart lay in a discovery The Animal had made along the great Mississippi River, far to the west of where the other Sheenes had traveled.
The Animal had watched as a small band of men plied their trade on the single path that led along the river's eastern bank.
Up-river travelers often chose the quicker if more treacherous walk rather than driving a boat against the powerful currents. The men The Animal had discovered ambushed smaller parties of travelers, stole their valuables, and buried the bodies in nearby sw
amps.
When he was sure of how it was done, The Animal crept into the sleeping murderers' camp and killed them in their sleep. They were only three in number, and he crushed their skulls using a rock in each hand and moving swiftly so that none could defend themselves.
The Animal took the gold and silver and hid the guns, knives, plate and other valuables. He submerged the bodies in a swamp and rolled a fallen log on top to hold them under until the gas left the bodies and they would sink forever into the muck.
For a full season The Animal had preyed on passing travelers exactly as had his first victims, but he chose wrongly, and a massive search began to discover who was killing along the trace. Woodsmen led the search parties, and The Animal fled leaving behind all but the heavy bag of coins.
Yet, even the man-beast grew lonely, and The Animal had returned home. He found his people without great searching because he knew the Sheenes' camping places, and when he appeared at their fire, old Zach was not overly surprised and was mostly irritated by his son’s extended absence—until the coin bag was offered.
The Animal conversed in a language that only the Sheenes could really understand. Despite his garbled tongue and confusing explanations, the value of The Animal’s experience, and its adaptability to another place leaped into the minds of the Sheenes with the first telling.
Old Zach’s chortle spoke for them all, because if their wild brother could succeed along the great river, so he should prosper—so they should all prosper—here among the Endless Hills where there were many trails.
To test the scheme, Zach sent The Animal forth. His instructions were simply to go far and to choose a small party that traveled alone.
During his wait for The Animal’s return, Zach planned further. The trick would be to never be seen with The Animal, a custom already practiced. They would need a base that was handy to many trails, but that could also appear to be a legitimate trading post or station. Zach knew just the spot, although there was a major obstacle that would have to be removed.
Ironhawk (Perry County, Pennsylvania Frontier Series Book 6) Page 13