High on a Mountain

by Tommie Lyn

  Her aunt looked over her shoulder, listening, trembling. She turned back to Tayeni. “Please, come with me!”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Tayeni’s chin jutted out. She’d made up her mind.

  “At least let me take the children. I’ll make sure they’re safe and—”

  “My children stay with me. Now, go.” Tayeni shooed her toward the door. “Run with the others. I’m staying here.” Tayeni hoped her brave words would impart the courage she needed but didn’t feel.

  “What would your mother say if she were here? What would she say about her sister leaving you at the mercy of—” She paused and glanced out the door. “They’re here! I’m going before it’s too late! Please come with me!”

  A tingle ascended Tayeni’s backbone, spread into the growing fear that clutched at her stomach. When her aunt disappeared, Tayeni almost called out, Wait for me!

  She heard an indistinct, unfamiliar sound, and her mouth grew dry. I’ll be safe. I’ll tell the soldiers that my husband is a white trader and—

  Her eyes widened in alarm, and she brought a fist to her mouth. She couldn’t tell them anything…Gòrdan wasn’t here to translate for her.

  Her breath came faster. Her aunt was right. She should go. She gathered her daughter into her arms and hurried to the door. “Raibeart! Seumas! Where are you?”

  __________

  Private Simon Hooker slogged along, his view of what lay ahead obscured by the back of the soldier he followed.

  “Hooker. Step lively. Don’t drag your feet.” the sergeant said.

  Simon mentally rolled his eyes but gave no outward sign of his irritation. He’d learned not to display any displeasure with conditions or orders. But he wished again that he hadn’t let desperation and hunger drive him into the army. He cursed himself for willingly “taking the King’s Shilling” and enlisting for life. Other men were proud to be part of the army, but Simon hated being a soldier, although he did like having enough to eat.

  A patina applied by distance and time softened his memories of London, gave the straitened circumstances of his youth less importance. Especially when compared to this wilderness. A root caught the toe of his boot, and he stumbled but recovered his footing.

  “Halt.” The sergeant’s voice was muted but carried his authority nonetheless. He ordered his small squad into a single-file column, positioned behind the frontline company of Royal Scots.

  “You will follow Colonel Montgomerie’s orders,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as he eased along the column. “Destroy everything. Burn the houses, cut down the crops, kill the animals. Kill any men you find, but spare the women and children. Now, maintain silence until we reach the village.”

  The Royal Scots moved forward, and the sergeant motioned for his men to follow. Simon’s muscles tightened, and he sucked in a breath. This would be his first action as a soldier, and he had a sudden longing to trade the soft pine straw beneath his feet for the hard stones of a London street.

  “You ain’t killed no one yet, Simon, me boy. But you will today,” whispered Richard Clegg. He looked over his shoulder at Simon and winked.

  Simon glanced at the face of his battle-hardened partner. And he wished he’d been paired with anyone else but this man. There was something in Clegg’s merciless glare, something Simon couldn’t put a name to. Something that made his skin crawl.

  “I done fought these Cherokees before. I seen what they do. And I’ll tell you, just give me one in the sights o’ my Brown Bess, be it man or woman, and they be dead, I don’t care what that high and mighty Colonel Montgomerie said.” Clegg spat. “I ain’t bound to do what no Scot says. We oughten to’ve been placed under his command, anyway.”

  “But you have to follow orders—”

  “And what’ll happen if I don’t? Another flogging?” He snorted derisively. “I done had too many o’ them to count, almost.”

  “Silence,” the sergeant hissed.

  __________

  Tayeni’s breath came hard and fast as she hurried outside. Where were her sons? She heard an ominous crackle coming from the north side of the village and whirled toward it. Orange flickered across the roof of a house, and spots of red and white scattered across the ground before it: the soldiers were here!

  “Raibeart!” she half-yelled, half-sobbed.

  “Here I am, Etsi. Seumas was at the river and—”

  Tayeni shifted the baby to one arm and grabbed two-year-old Seumas’ hand. “Run!”

  She hurried toward the hill to the west of the village, looking once over her shoulder, the wild terror of a hunted animal widening her eyes at the sight of two soldiers in red coats who had almost reached her home. Seumas’ legs were not long enough for him to match his mother’s stride, and she dragged him along.

  Raibeart followed. He paused to grab a stone and throw it at the soldiers. It didn’t reach his target, and he threw another.

  One soldier took aim and fired his musket. Tayeni took a faltering step. She dropped her baby girl and fell on her. The baby’s crying stopped abruptly.

  Seumas stood beside his mother’s body. “Etsi? Etsi!”

  The soldier who had killed Tayeni reloaded his weapon, aimed it at the little boy and ended his cries.

  Raibeart stopped running when he reached his mother’s body. He stared at her, at his brother, unable to move, unable to understand. And a musket ball slammed into his back. The impact knocked him off his feet, and he fell at Tayeni’s side.

  __________

  Smoke rose from each house in Gulahiyi village as the red-orange flames spread through the thatched roofs and plastered river cane walls. Shouts of soldiers and screams of the unfortunate few residents who hadn’t managed to escape in time mingled with the intermittent sound of musket shots and the growing roar of fires that consumed the vacant homes. The soldiers methodically went from house to house, insuring that nothing remained alive, not even the livestock nor dogs.

  Their next task was to destroy the food stuffs. The redcoats tore down the storehouse behind each home and burned the abundance of produce which would have sustained the family for at least two years. They cut down the fruit trees beside the homes, pulled up and trampled growing crops in gardens and fields.

  When Gulahiyi had been razed, the British soldiers moved along to the next village in their destructive sweep through the Lower Towns of the Tsalagi.

  Simon Hooker couldn’t sleep that night. When he closed his eyes, he smelled the smoke of the burning homes. He heard the roar of the flames. And he saw a young mother and her children lying dead.

  __________

  Restlessness crawled through Gòrdan MacAntoisch’s belly. He stopped his horse where the path forked. He pulled off his hat, wiped sweat from his face with his sleeve and settled his hat in place again as his eyes scanned the surrounding woods.

  Sigawi, Gòrdan’s Tsalagi assistant, stopped his portion of the pack train and waited for orders.

  The trader didn’t speak. He lifted a finger and gestured in the direction from which they’d come. Sigawi slid from his mount and melted into the greening undergrowth flanking the path.

  Gòrdan sat his horse. Silent. Unmoving. Waiting. Uneasy. His horse stamped a foot to dislodge a fly, stepped sideways, and the saddle creaked as Gòrdan’s weight shifted with the unexpected movement. His jaw tightened. He was almost certain they were being followed again.

  Sigawi eased from the greenery, and, with one fluid motion, remounted his horse. Gòrdan lifted an eyebrow in question. His assistant shook his head.

  They continued on their homeward journey.

  ONE

  Tsalagi Territory, South Carolina Colony, June 1760

  Eight-year-old Niall MacLachlainn dashed into the creek behind his older brother, Aodh. He slowed as he neared the mountain stream’s deeper pool, and an involuntary shiver that passed down his body accompanied the rising of goose bumps on his arms.

  His mother called to his little sister, and he glanced in
their direction. At that moment, Aodh slapped the water, and cold liquid splashed into Niall’s face. He gasped and squeezed his eyes shut. He opened them to slits, clamped his lower lip between his teeth and swung his right arm in an arc, the edge of his hand skimming the water’s surface. He created a sheet of spray that inundated Aodh, who laughed and ducked beneath the creek’s rippling veneer.

  Niall stared at reflections of green trees and blue sky undulating on the surface of the water. His stomach tightened as he tried to see through them, tried to see the form he knew was swimming toward him. A hand grabbed his ankle from behind and yanked. He fell, arms flailing, water covered his head, and he came face to face with his grinning brother.

  When the boys hunted small game and birds with their blowguns, Niall could best his older brother. His aim was sure, almost uncanny. And his long legs gave him an edge in their footraces. But Aodh always won their water games. And Aodh was the one who always won their father’s approval.

  Niall rolled onto his stomach to regain his footing and push himself out of the water. But a yellow gleam among the pebbles on the creek bottom caught his eye. He’d never seen anything quite like it. Edoda would surely be proud of him for finding something so unusual. Aodh had never found anything like this.

  As his fingers closed over it, he felt his brother’s foot on his back. Aodh used Niall as a stepping stone to propel himself from the deeper pool into the shallows.

  Niall thrust his body upward and shot from the water seconds later, the shiny pebble clutched in his fist.

  __________

  Kutahyah MacLachlainn watched her two oldest sons cavorting in the stream, a contented smile lifting the corners of her mouth. She loved watching their high-spirited antics. They’re going to be good, strong men like their father.

  She untied the ends of the sling that held her baby in place on her back. She leaned over, pulled the cloth around and took him in her arms. She put his feet in the creek and began bathing him.

  He squealed and kicked, splattering his mother with droplets. He reached for the water and arched his back when he found he couldn’t touch it.

  Kutahyah finished washing him and lowered him into the water. She let him splash and play for a few minutes, then set him on the grassy bank.

  “Brìghde, come watch the baby,” Kutahyah called.

  Her six-year-old daughter left her pursuit of minnows and climbed out of the stream.

  “Keep him out of the water,” her mother instructed.

  Kutahyah waded into the deep pool, cupped her hands and dipped water to pour over her head and face, over her arms. She washed away the sweat and dirt from the day’s work in the cornfield. When she finished and left the creek, Niall followed.

  “Etsi.”

  Kutahyah looked into green eyes that were like his father’s.

  “What’s this?” He opened his fist to reveal a small piece of gleaming yellow metal on his palm.

  “Throw that back in the water.” A crease formed on her forehead. “If your father knew you—”

  “Edoda! Edoda!” Aodh shouted. He climbed from the water and ran to meet the tall man who was descending the hill. “Edoda, you should have seen! I almost caught a fish in my bare hands!”

  “That’s good, Uwetsi.”

  Niall ran behind his brother, shouting, “Edoda! Look what I found!”

  When he reached his father, Niall smiled, held out his hand and opened it, expecting words of praise. Ailean frowned when he saw what lay in the boy’s palm.

  “Throw that back where you got it. Don’t ever take any of it from the stream again.”

  Niall’s smile disappeared, and his shoulders sagged. Kutahyah hurt for her son. A wave of anger tightened her lips. She gave Ailean an irritated glance but bit back the words she wanted to say. She turned her attention to her son.

  At every turn, Niall did something to draw his father’s disfavor upon himself. She longed to put her arms around his bony shoulders. She wanted to comfort him like she did when he was small. But he was growing into a young warrior, and it would be unseemly for the mother of a warrior to pamper him. She wouldn’t want to make him soft.

  Niall turned slowly, eyes fixed on his feet, and headed down to the stream.

  “Wait, Agidoi. Let me see.” Brìghde, Niall’s little sister, scampered after him.

  Niall stopped and displayed the nugget.

  “Ooooh! That’s pretty!” Brìghde gave her brother a wistful look. “Can I have it?”

  “No. Edoda said to throw it back in the stream.”

  “Please, please let me have it.”

  Niall glanced over his shoulder at his father. “If I disobey, he’ll be angry and—”

  “Please!” She grasped his wrist, pulled his hand closer and touched the nugget. “I want it.”

  “I don’t want him to be angry with me. I want him to—”

  “Please…”

  Brìghde’s lower lip trembled, and Niall’s heart melted. He could deny her nothing. Even if it meant he might lose the most important thing in his life—his father’s approval—he had to give his little sister what she wanted, had to make her happy.

  He placed the lump of yellow metal into her hand and pressed her fingers closed over it.

  “Here,” he whispered. “But you have to hide it. Don’t let Edoda know I gave it to you.”

  __________

  Kutahyah put the baby in the sling and shifted him onto her back. Ailean swung three-year-old Coinneach into his arms, and the family started up the hill.

  Ailean walked silently beside his wife, and she felt a strain between them.

  “Is anything wrong?” she asked.

  “Aye, something is very wrong. Tenahwosi came to tell us that Gulahiyi was destroyed by soldiers.” He paused, rubbed a hand over his eyes and down his face. “They killed Tayeni MacAntoisch and her children.”

  “No!” Kutahyah shook her head slowly. “That can’t be.” She came to a stop. She turned brimming eyes to her husband and asked in a trembling voice, “And what of my mother? And my brothers?”

  Ailean turned to face her. “They hid in the hills. Most everyone escaped, but a few didn’t leave in time.”

  “Gòrdan.” Her voice rasped. “What of him?”

  “He wasn’t there. He’d gone to Charles Town. But he’ll be back any day now.”

  Kutahyah stared at the ground with unseeing eyes, trying to make sense of what he’d said. Her face remained calm. Tears which threatened to spill were the only visible sign of her inner turmoil.

  Sadness for Tayeni overwhelmed her. It was warriors who fought and sometimes died. Not women and children. A sudden outrage at the senselessness of the deaths threatened to smother her, and she struggled to get a breath.

  “The soldiers destroyed the crops and all the food. Would you get some things from the storehouse for Tenahwosi to take to the village?”

  “Yes.” Good. Something she could do, something that would occupy her hands and her mind—something that would keep her anger and feeling of helplessness from overwhelming her.

  “I’m going to drive some steers to the village,” Ailean said. “While I’m gone, would you and the boys start planting more corn? In that field to the north that’s laying fallow? We’ll need a bigger harvest this year.”

  “Yes. The people will need food.”

  “Aodh!”

  The boy came running to his father’s side. Niall trailed along behind.

  “Aodh, catch Old Brown and put a bridle on him.”

  “Yes, Edoda.” Aodh grinned as he sprinted to the pen where Ailean always kept a horse available.

  “What can I do?” Niall asked.

  “Go help your mother gather food for Tenahwosi.”

  “But can’t I—”

  “Do as you’re told.”

  Niall’s shoulders slumped as he turned to follow his mother to the storehouse.

  “Niall,” Ailean said, “come here for a minute. There’s something I have to exp
lain to you.”

  He waited until Niall stood in front of him, the boy’s eyes directed toward the ground respectfully, as his mother had taught him.

  “Uwetsi, that piece of yellow metal you found is gold.” Ailean ran his hand through his hair, a vertical crease on his forehead deepening. “Gold is a curious thing. It can be good, and you can do good things with it. Like the cows I bought with gold to start the herd.

  “But gold can be bad, too. It can bring trouble on you. It can make people envy you and want to steal from you.” He paused, waiting for a comment from his son. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  The words made no sense, but Niall nodded. He’d learned that the wisest thing was to pretend he understood. At other times, he’d admitted Edoda’s words had confused him, and Edoda had become impatient. So Niall indicated he understood.

  “Unless there’s a very important reason why you need it, never, ever take any gold from the stream.” Ailean took a breath and waited for a response.

  “I won’t,” Niall said.

  “Good.” Ailean gave an approving nod. “Now, go help your mother.”

  Niall ran up the hill to the storehouse, a slight frown drawing his brows together. His father had seemed pleased with his answer. But was his father pleased with him?

  Visit Tommie Lyn on the internet at:

  http://tommielyn.com

  Other books by Tommie Lyn (available on Smashwords or in print versions on Amazon.com and Barnesandnoble.com):

  Historicals:

  Deep in the Valley: A MacLachlainn Saga, Book Two: Niall (sequel to High on a Mountain)