The path to Nell’s house lead away from the forest before rising to the top of the hill. The town was quiet, as if nothing was wrong, just another peaceful evening in the New World.
A scream came from the woods.
Jenny!
“Run Drew, run! He’ll kill you!”
Jenny emerged from the woods.
Alone.
A small field separated them.
Unable to stand unassisted, she propped herself against a tree with one hand.
Drew ran toward her.
“No!” she screamed. “Run, run!”
Something lashed at her from behind. With a whimper, Jenny crumpled to the ground.
Eliot Venner stepped out of the shadows.
He wore only a breechcloth. Streaks of white paint covered his chest and arms and legs. He grabbed Jenny by the hair and yanked her to her feet, laughing his hyena laugh. He dragged Jenny into the woods.
Drew shouted as he ran. “Eliot!”
He charged toward the woods, looking past trees and bushes, for any movement that would indicate their direction.
There!
Eliot was dragging Jenny, his hand across her mouth.
Drew could hear her muffled cry.
Keep fighting, Jenny. I’m coming for you.
Three strides from the forest perimeter, a vine pulled taut in front of him, snagging Drew’s foot, sending him flying. His musket flew even farther.
Indians streamed out of the forest.
Five of them.
Ten.
Surrounding him.
Thhhuuuump! Thhhuuuump!
Hitting him with clubs.
Thhuuuump! Thhhuuump! Thhhuuump!
A crushing blow hit the back of Drew’s head. He hovered between conscious thought and unconsciousness. A part of him was aware that his face was in the dirt, everything else was unclear.
The blows stopped.
There were rustling sounds around him.
Then sounds.
Voices.
Words he couldn’t understand. Men’s voices.
Then…
“No!”
More rustling.
“First, the woman in the house on the hill.”
Everything went black.
He tasted dirt—pieces of leaves and dirt in a dry mouth. The back of his head felt like it was split open, his forehead throbbed.
He saw the forest lying sideways.
He was still in the forest.
How long?
All around him it was dark and damp.
Gunshots?
Were those gunshots he heard?
Jenny!
No, Nell! The woman in the house!
Drew struggled to his hands and knees. His head hung low like deadweight on the end of a rope. He forced himself to blink back the pain, the nausea that tried to knock him to the ground again.
He worked himself up the side of a tree. Made it to his feet.
His mind screamed at him to move.
Nell … in danger.
“Promised I would take care of her,” he muttered. “Gave my word.”
Musket.
He looked around him on the ground.
It was gone.
Drew pushed himself from the tree, half-stumbling, half-running.
He crossed the grassy field toward the scattered English wigwams. Thin wisps of smoke curled upward from the chimneys into a clear sky. Some of the wigwams were dark as he passed them, the people inside asleep. They hadn’t heard the shots. Other colonists stood in front of their wigwams, doors open, men holding their wives close to them, all of them staring in the direction of Nell’s house.
They could hear the sounds but couldn’t see anything.
Drew startled them as he stumbled past.
They wanted to know what was happening.
He didn’t answer.
He reached the road. It began its incline toward the hill and Nell’s house.
Faster.
He must move faster.
His lungs burned. His head pounded. He pushed harder, driven by one thought: Save Nell.
I gave my word.
Nell’s house came into view.
It was dark. The shutters were closed. Tiny slits of light in the cracks of the shutters were the only indication of life.
Drew stopped. It looked peaceful enough.
He started forward again. A slow run.
His eyes darted back and forth, looking for danger, sudden movement.
As he ascended the slope leading to the house, the bay came into view on the right. It lay tranquil, highlighted by white sparkles of moonlight. The house was still a good distance in front of him. To his left, a large field separated the house from the edge of the forest.
Nothing moved.
As he got closer, he noticed dark areas on the field.
A little closer. Forms, human forms.
Men lying face down.
Dead men.
One. Two. Three of them.
Three dead Indians.
A wild inhuman cry split the air.
From the black interior of the forest a charging horse emerged, followed by dozens of running Indians.
Eliot!
His wild red hair flew backward in the wind as he rode at Drew.
“Run, Drew! Run!”
David Cooper shouted at Drew from the doorway of Nell’s house, musket in one hand, his free hand waving, motioning for Drew to run for the house.
Eliot’s eyes, surrounded by an unholy sea of white, bulged with madness; a hideous look of laughter twisted his face. His scream sounded like a wounded animal.
Drew ran for the open door, urging his legs into motion, his head pounding with each footfall.
It was too far. Eliot was coming too fast. He’d never make it.
Drew’s heart and lungs were on fire as if they would burn through his chest.
The Indians were right behind Eliot. All running at him, weapons raised. Yelling, murderous eyes fixed on him.
They were coming too fast. He wouldn’t make it.
The shutters on the house flew open.
Blam! Blam!
Muskets spit fire and smoke from the windows of the house.
Dirt kicked up in front of Eliot’s horse.
One Indian fell to the ground and rolled.
Blam! Blam! Blam!
Eliot’s horse crumpled beneath him, sending him sprawling over its head.
Another Indian fell.
Ffffffthump!
An arrow flew in front of Drew, striking a tuft of grass near his feet. He stumbled. A second arrow whizzed past his head.
Drew ducked and ran up the steep incline to the porch.
Ffffffthump!
He charged past the burly cobbler and into the house.
The door slammed behind him. Shutters followed.
He’d made it!
Nell flew into his arms.
“Oh Drew, you’re safe! Thank God!”
He fought for breath. Nell was choking him, nearly suffocating him with her hugs.
There were smiles all around. The cobbler. Marshall Ramsden. Even James was grinning.
“Thought they had you, son,” the cobbler said.
The celebration didn’t last long.
Marshall peeked through the crack in the shutters.
“They’re heading back for the woods,” he said.
While Nell doctored Drew’s head, they told him about the first attack.
Eliot and the Indians crept across the field and were surprised to find an armed welcoming party. Drew told them about the ambush, using Jenny as bait.
“Has anyone seen her?” Drew asked.
They hadn’t.
“Why is Eliot doing this?” Marshall asked.
“Eliot’s orders are to hurt the people I love,” he said.
“Orders?” the cobbler asked.
“Bishop Laud. He hasn’t forgiven me for choosing Nell and Jenny over him.”
The pio
us cobbler cursed the prelate.
The voice came from outside.
“Drew Morgan!”
“It’s Eliot!” Marshall cried, looking through the crack between the shutters. “He’s got Jenny!”
Drew ran to the window.
Marshall cracked the shutter open wider so Drew could see.
Eliot stood at the edge of the forest. He held Jenny in front of him, a knife at her throat.
“I’ll kill her!” Eliot shouted. “I’ll kill her unless you come out!”
Drew closed the shutter.
“What are you going to do?” the cobbler asked him.
“I have to go out there.”
“No!” Nell cried. “No, Drew, please. I don’t want to lose you too.”
“She’s right,” said the cobbler. “If you go out there, he’ll kill both you and Jenny.”
“I’ve got to try,” Drew said. “I promised her father I’d protect her. I’ve got to try!”
Drew looked at Nell. She didn’t have to say anything for him to know what she was thinking; he’d studied that face too many times—sometimes secretly, sometimes not so secretly — the resolute look in her steely brown eyes, the way her lips pressed together in a firm line, these things told him she agreed with his decision. He pulled her to him and held her close. It had taken so long for them to get together. He didn’t want it to end now.
He broke the embrace and headed for the door.
“At least take a weapon!” Marshall cried.
Drew shook his head.
“They won’t let me get close to her if I’m carrying a weapon.”
“Here. Take this.”
James thrust a flintlock pistol at him.
Drew refused it.
“You can hide it back here,” the cobbler said, grabbing the gun. He turned Drew around and stuck it in Drew’s waistband at the small of his back.
The wood and metal pistol was bulky and pulled his waistband tight, making it uncomfortable for Drew to walk. He had no idea how he was going to reach for the gun, especially if he needed it in a hurry.
“David had five stones when he went out to meet Goliath,” the cobbler said. “You’ve got only one ball. Make it a good one.”
“David only needed one stone,” Drew said.
He opened the door and stepped out.
The last thing he saw was Nell on her knees, weeping and praying.
He closed the door behind him.
“We’re praying for you, Drew!”
The voice startled him. He whirled around. There, lining the edge of the road and facing the forest was a band of colonists, all of them armed.
“We heard the gunfire,” Winthrop shouted.
Beside the governor were the Reverends Higginson and Williams.
The eyes of the colonists were fixed on him as he walked toward the field. As he walked, he surveyed the situation.
Eliot stood in front of the trees, shielding himself with Jenny, a knife at her throat. Behind him an undetermined number of Indians hid behind trees and bushes.
Drew walked to the middle of the field and stopped. His heart almost failed when he got a closer look at Jenny. Her face and arms were black with dirt and dried blood. Her dress was ripped, her beautiful brown hair matted with dirt and leaves and twigs. Eliot was using her long hair to hold her up, his left hand wrapped around it like a sailor would wrap his hand around a rope. His right hand held a knife against her throat. There were already several red lines across her neck where she’d been cut.
Jenny’s eyes were wide with fear as she stared out the corners at her captor, her husband.
Drew could see some of the Indians better now. He recognized one of them. Uncas.
“Keep coming!” Eliot shouted at Drew.
“No!” Jenny screamed. “Go back!”
Eliot yanked her hair savagely.
“Shut up!”
Instinctively, Drew started toward Jenny. Several Indians readied their bows.
Drew stopped.
“Let her go, Eliot!”
“Come here or I’ll kill her!”
Eliot’s eyes bulged wider, his cheeks puffed with each breath, sweat dripped from his chin.
“You don’t want her! You want me,” Drew shouted.
Uncas said something. Drew couldn’t make it out. But Eliot did. He whipped his head toward the Indian, causing the knife to cut into Jenny’s neck.
“This is my hunt!” he shouted.
Jenny whimpered and her legs gave way. Eliot jerked her upright, demanding that she stand. Somehow she found enough strength to obey him.
Drew felt helpless. He had to do something to resolve this now.
“Eliot! This is between you and me!” he screamed. “But you’ll have to come out here to get me!”
“You think I’m stupid?”
“Yes, I do. Dimwitted and cowardly. That’s how Bishop Laud described you. Why else do you think he always preferred me to you?”
“Shut up!”
“I couldn’t believe how easy it was to replace you as Laud’s top boy. You’ve been living in my shadow ever since. Always wanting what I have. Do you know how pathetic that is?”
“All right, blue boy,” Eliot hissed. “Have it your way.”
Eliot opened his bulging white eyes as wide as possible and added a toothy, wicked grin. He looked like an animal possessed by demons.
With halting steps, he shoved Jenny toward Drew in the middle of the field until he was just a few feet shy of his former pupil.
“Drew, I’m sorry,” Jenny whimpered.
Eliot mimicked her.
“Yes, Drew, we’re so sorry. Soooooo sorry!”
“It’s over, Eliot! Let her go!”
“Over?” Eliot cried. “The fun is just beginning!”
He snapped Jenny’s head back. Her sharp cry was followed by a whimpering sound which Eliot obviously enjoyed.
He did it to goad Drew. And it was working.
Drew fought to keep his emotions in check. If he let Eliot play him, both he and Jenny would die. He pointed to the armed colonists.
“They know who you are now,” he said. “You can no longer deceive them.”
“I got what I came for,” Eliot spat. “And she’s right here.”
He pulled the knife against Jenny’s throat. A fresh red line appeared. A drop of blood trickled down the blade and for a moment Eliot was mesmerized by it.
“You’ve had plenty of chances to kill her and didn’t!” Drew shouted.
Eliot glared at him.
“You didn’t kill her because you want me,” Drew said. “You know you’ll never be satisfied until you kill me.”
Eliot grinned. It was a hideous grin.
“True,” he said. “But I can’t just let her go! Promised Uncas he could have her. Seems only right, doesn’t it? I gave you Rosemary. I give him Jenny.” His grin grew larger. “I was right about Rosemary, wasn’t I?”
Drew began circling to his right, looking for a way to get between Eliot and Jenny.
“It’s either Jenny or me, Eliot! You can’t have both. If you want me, you’re going to have to let her go.”
Eliot stepped to the side, countering Drew’s movement. He jerked the blade. Another trickle of red appeared.
Drew stopped.
To his left was the house and the colonists. To the right, the forest and Indians. If he could get Eliot to release Jenny, maybe the colonists could cover her while she ran to the house.
Drew laughed.
“You have really made a mess of things this time, Eliot, haven’t you? This isn’t just one of your usual blunders, this is a monumental failure.”
He shifted a little more to his right.
“Think of it,” he said. “Think of all the time you spent setting this up. All the time you’ve had to control yourself, forcing yourself to act like a decent person. All those wasted months on the ship trying to convince people to trust you. And what do you have to show for it? One little girl. A
nd if you kill her, the colonists will cut you down before you take two steps toward me.”
Eliot began making animal noises.
“I can just see Bishop Laud shaking his head when he hears how Eliot Venner messed up yet again and got himself killed, the dimwitted boy from the streets of London who fashioned himself a crafty undercover operative, outsmarted again by the pampered rich son of a nobleman!”
Drew laughed again.
“You’re as inept as that fat bishop who plucked you off the streets,” he cried. “Laud thinks he killed Justin!”
Drew shook his head.
“Justin escaped. Actually, Justin in here in the colony. In that house!”
Eliot glanced behind Drew at the house.
“Poor inept bishop and his stupid operative! Like a bad marksman you missed your mark. You killed the wrong person! Christopher Matthews wasn’t Justin! Nell Matthews is Justin!”
Eliot let out an unearthly scream and shoved Jenny into Drew.
Her momentum knocked Drew hard to the ground, the gun in his waistband gouging him in the back, Jenny’s full weight landing on him and pinning him down, Eliot lunging at them both with the knife, his eyes wild, his teeth barred, his mouth wide in an animal yell, his face wet with sweat.
Mustering all his strength, Drew rolled Jenny to one side just as the blade plunged into the ground beside his head, the guttural scream of a hunter who hates missing his mark ringing in his ears, his frenzied attacker pulling the knife out of the earth for a second attempt, Drew swinging back with his elbow, managing to land a blow on Eliot’s temple, stunning him momentarily, knocking him aside enough to position his body between Eliot and Jenny.
Get her to the house.
To Nell.
To safety.
Drew scrambled to his feet at the same time as Eliot. Jenny was still on the ground, groggy, moving slowly. Eliot grinned his yellow-toothed grin, slashing his knife back and forth, holding it high so that Drew could get a good look at the razor sharp blade, the blade that would be the instrument of his death, of his mutilation, the same blade Eliot had used to cut Sassacus and all those animals that were nailed to the walls in his cabin.
Empty-handed, Drew reached behind him to help Jenny to her feet, never taking his eyes off Eliot, expecting him to strike at the slightest sign of imbalance. Jenny reached up to him, felt for his hand, grabbed it as best she could, but she was weak, so weak, drained of strength, and will, and hope. With Drew clutching one hand, she used the other to climb up his leg, pulling on his pants leg, then his waistband.
The Puritans (American Family Portrait #1) Page 46