Black Eagle

by Karen Kay

  “Indeed, I was. How would we have managed this journey without you? You, who have rescued me twice, and in so many days.”

  His response was an odd one, for he said only, “It is my duty.”

  Duty? That hurt. Was that all she was to him? A duty to be discharged as quickly as possible?

  She felt even worse when she realized her reaction was hypocritical. Yet she couldn’t deny that she was crushed.

  She didn’t put her thoughts to words, however. She would never speak them, for to do so would be to wear her feelings on her sleeve.

  Instead, she determined that since she was honest enough to realize she craved his embrace, she would savor every moment with him, for this would be all they would ever have with one another. Indeed, it was true, for they would both make it be so. With her hand grasped neatly within his, she pulled on him, bringing him closer to her. Placing her arms around his neck, she laid her head upon his chest. “I accept your reasons for not marrying me, Sir Eagle. Indeed, they please me.”

  “I am aware of that, and yet—”

  “There is no ‘and yet’. Perhaps we found each other merely to give solace, one to the other, before duty calls us elsewhere.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Please accept my apology for attempting to leave you behind. I fear to think what would have become of me if I’d been successful in keeping you from leading us.”

  “No apology is necessary from you, but one is due from me, for I upset you needlessly that day.”

  She glanced up into his eyes. “Sir Eagle, you do realize that once we reach New Hampshire, we might never see one another again.”

  He sighed. “I do. But first, let us reach this place without further mishap. It is possible that once we are there—”

  “No,” she interrupted. “I fear if you believe I might have a change of heart, then you do not understand how strong is my resolve to never admit a man into my life.”

  His look was odd, if only because he smiled at her in a knowing, carefree way. “Perhaps if this be your true desire, you had best cease to issue me such challenges.”

  “Why, I never…” She stopped, because she suddenly grasped exactly what he meant, and gazing up at him, she laughed.

  Chapter Twelve

  After a week on the trail, Black Eagle was more than aware that their days were becoming strewn with too many mishaps. At present, they had stopped and set up camp for the night. Thompson was with the horses. The women were by the stream, rinsing their dishes after the evening meal.

  Black Eagle was sitting atop a log, with knife and stick in hand. He was whittling, apparently focused on the forming shape. The truth, however, was that his thoughts were far away. When he had agreed to safely lead the women through the woods, he hadn’t realized how hard this might be.

  There were too many accidents. What was the cause of them? At first Black Eagle had wondered if the women were naturally clumsy. Or perhaps the fault was the weather, since they’d had almost a solid week of rain. But lately he was beginning to speculate that something more sinister might be at work.

  That these misfortunes had resulted in only minor injury was hardly the point. That they were happening and that they could have caused real injury was the actual worry.

  One of the mishaps had been related to a fire that the wind had carried into the midst of the women. The result had been that Sarah’s dress had caught fire. What had made the incident extreme was that it had happened at a time when they hadn’t camped close enough to water to put the fire out easily.

  Luckily, there had been an unending supply of dirt at hand. Black Eagle, Marisa and Thompson had rolled Sarah round and round in the dirt, and though Sarah had required a bath later, it was a small price to pay. At least she had come away with her life, and outside of the shock and a few scratches, there had been little damage.

  Then there was the morning three days ago when Black Eagle had awakened much earlier than the others. He had been away from their camp, hunting. Screams from the women had made his heart stand still, and he had rushed back to camp dreading what he would find.

  It had been worse than even he could have imagined. A rattlesnake had taken up residence within the women’s midst. It had been coiled and ready to strike.

  To add to the horror, Thompson had been carelessly aiming at the snake, and had he fired, the shot would have maimed Ahweyoh, who was in his line of fire.

  Only the utmost presence of mind had enabled Black Eagle to throw a knife fast enough to prevent Thompson from firing that shot. An arrow then sent directly into the head of the snake had ensured that no danger had come to Ahweyoh, who had been closest to it.

  That this had happened on top of another accident the day previous when one of the horses had kicked at Sarah, barely missing her head, was stranger yet, since something had fallen onto the horse from above. A close inspection afterward had found a fallen tree branch. He had also discovered curiously that Thompson had climbed that tree at some time during their stay.

  Was it a coincidence?

  Or perhaps a wiser question was, were these incidents intended or not?

  The problem was, though he was highly suspicious, Black Eagle could prove nothing. Nonetheless, he was finding himself awakening each day, worrying what new misadventure might lie in wait for the women. An even further concern was that he might not always be near to ensure their continued safety.

  Noting lazily that Ahweyoh had finished her chore and was stepping toward him, as soon as she came into range, he voiced, “There have been many accidents on the trail.”

  “Yes.” She sauntered closer to him.

  Not looking up from his work, he said, “Is it your and Miss Sarah’s custom to have so many ills befall you?”

  “No, I admit it is not.” She sat beside him and placed her legs out in front of her, appearing to be stretching her calf and thigh muscles. “’Tis strange. Have you been considering some theory as to what is happening to cause this?”

  He shrugged. “A little. But I have nothing to report except to tell you that you were in Thompson’s line of fire the day when you awoke to find a snake as a bedfellow. Had Thompson fired, you might have been killed.”

  “Do you think Thompson was being careless?”

  “It is either that or he aimed to do you harm.”

  “Surely not. Is that truly what you think?”

  Black Eagle didn’t answer the question, nor did he defend himself or his theory. “I’ve also discovered that Thompson had climbed one of the trees that hovered over the horse that day when it kicked out at Miss Sarah. I believe a branch had fallen on the horse, which caused its reaction.”

  Marisa met this news with silence. After a time, she said, “Do you suspect Thompson is trying to do us harm?”

  “I do not know. But it is true that either he means you harm or these accidents are the subject of misfortune.”

  Again, Marisa was silent.

  He proffered, “You can decide for yourself which it is. I’m merely speaking to you to inform you of what I have found.”

  “But if it were intended, why would he do it?”

  Again, Black Eagle shrugged. “Have you insulted the man?”

  “No.”

  “Have you done his family any harm?”

  “Of course not. In truth, I don’t believe he has a family.”

  “Then perhaps it is nothing more than bad luck,” said Black Eagle. “I have no proof of wrongdoing, and it is well that if a man is going to accuse another, he should be certain of his facts.”

  “I see. What do you suggest we do?”

  “Stay alert. Check over your supplies daily, prepare yourself for anything and be surprised at nothing.”

  She nodded. “How many more days do you think we have on this trail before we find ourselves in Abenaki country?”

  �
�Not many, perhaps two or three.”

  “And will we change the manner in which we travel once we are in Abenaki territory?”

  “Nyoh, yes, since it will be dangerous to travel during the day. We will sleep when the sun is up and travel by moonlight. The Abenaki hate the English almost as much as they do the Mohawk. So, nyoh, we will change much about the way in which we travel.”

  “Will that cause these accidents to become even more…life threatening?”

  He paused, then said, “It is so.”

  She rocked back on the log where they sat and swallowed hard. “A gunshot, a scream, any loud noise could prove disastrous?”

  “It is so.”

  She sat up and placed her hand over his thigh. “Tell me what else to do.”

  He glanced at her hand, then casually, looking up at her, he smiled wickedly. “I know of many things I would tell you to do.”

  She giggled a little. “Behave, Sir Eagle. I am being serious.”

  “So am I.”

  She laughed. “Truly, what should I do?”

  “I little know since I cannot predict these accidents. All I can advise is to stay alert, and once we reach Abenaki country, to remain quiet, no matter what happens.”

  “I fear it will be difficult.” She rubbed her hand over his thigh muscle. “However, I am glad you’re here. Thank you.”

  He nodded and ceased his whittling long enough to squeeze her hand. They sat, looking deeply into one another’s eyes, before he set back to work with knife and stick. Marisa rose and swung around, and in doing so came face-to-face with Thompson, who was looking at her as though she had not only taken leave of her senses, but as if she were a breed apart.

  He said not a word to her, however. Quietly, he turned and walked away.

  Marisa swung back toward Black Eagle. “Thompson was standing behind us. Do you think he heard us?”

  “He might have done so. Therefore, beware. Trust nothing, and keep your eyes open.”

  “Yes. I will.”

  “Thank you, Sir Eagle.” Marisa stepped up to her horse, where Black Eagle was checking the gear on her mount. He nodded toward her, petted the animal and offered Marisa a hand up.

  Marisa accepted his assistance, and as she found her seating, she smiled down at him. How he had changed in regard to English custom. When they had first started their trek, he’d not lent her any assistance on either mounting or dismounting from her horse. Now he didn’t miss an opportunity to help her. However, whether this was due to an inclination toward English manners or from a desire to touch her was in question.

  Of course, she had changed in little ways too. No major changes, but over and over her thoughts turned to Black Eagle’s observations about king, country and servitude, and her step-uncle, John Rathburn. Ungraciously, perhaps, John Rathburn was becoming the loser in her musings. Was it wrong to believe that some people were beneath you? That some men and women were born to toil for another? That being cunning and accumulating wealth was more important than life?

  Or were all people born with innate freedoms? Details so intrinsic to an individual that they, like thoughts, could not be detached from one or even voluntarily given away?

  Marisa didn’t know. Once she had thought she had known. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  But Black Eagle was speaking to her, and she gave him her undivided attention. “Was it you who saddled your pony this morning?”

  “No. Why?”

  He frowned. “No reason. But it was already done when I came to do it. It appears to be done well. Perhaps Thompson completed the task.”

  Marisa gave Black Eagle a knowing look. “Thompson? When has Richard Thompson done anything on this trip without being asked first? More likely it was Sarah.”

  “Nyoh, I’m sure you are right, but perhaps I should ask her, if only to settle my mind.”

  “Mohawk!” Thompson bellowed, and Marisa couldn’t help wondering why the man couldn’t seem to address Black Eagle by his rightful name. “I need help over here, Injun. Damn nag won’t stand still.”

  Black Eagle slanted her a look and said, “Stay alert,” under his breath, and went to do as bid.

  “Sarah, look there! Did you see it?”

  Sarah drew her horse to the side of the path. “No, what was it?”

  Both women, who were sitting sidesaddle, leaned forward to stare into the forest glen. Marisa said, “I believe it was a bear.”

  Sarah shivered and straightened. “If so, then ’tis the first we have seen on this trip. And here I was, hoping we would not come across any at all. What kind of bear?”

  “I little know.” Marisa straightened up in her seating. “I hardly had a glimpse of it. ’Twas standing over there…” she pointed, “…in the dell. But when it saw me looking at it, it turned and sauntered away.”

  “Good. Let us hope you frightened it.”

  “Yes,” she said, though personally she thought that unlikely.

  It was still early morning. Gone was the rain that had plagued them last week, and in its place was the most glorious sunshine a person could hope for, the kind that made a person glad to be alive. It was as if Nature were making amends for what might have been her anger this past week.

  On this day, the fragrance of pure oxygen was in the air, and sunlight bounced off droplets of moisture that still clung to the leaves and the bark of the trees. The ground was muddy and slick, but the clouds overhead were fluffy and light, and the land looked as if it had been washed anew. Black Eagle had once again taken the lead, and was at present so far ahead that Marisa could no longer see him.

  For a moment, she panicked. If something else should befall them, was he close enough to avert a disaster? But then, common sense prevailed, and she assured herself that her worries, and his, were unfounded. Her step-uncle had hired Thompson personally, and while he might be many things, her guardian was not a killer, nor would he hire a killer. Although there was that Pennsylvania town…

  That they were traveling during the day seemed to indicate they were still within safety. For this, she was glad. Riding through enemy territory was likely to be more of a trial than she had ever anticipated. It was odd how, in Albany, the reality of the trail had seemed so much easier.

  Albany. Thus far, with the track before them and the beauty of the landscape to take her attention, the journey was serving to put Albany and the problems there behind her. Indeed, it appeared that the more distance that intervened between herself and the town, the less Marisa thought of her step-uncle’s displeasure with her. Perhaps when she returned to Albany, John Rathburn, too, would have had the space and the time to shake off his animosity.

  At least Marisa hoped so.

  Looking forward again, she found she could still not see Black Eagle, and she discovered that she missed watching his figure. On that thought, she sighed. What was to be done about him? About her loving him?

  Nothing, she answered her own question forthwith. Nothing was to be done about the two of them, and on this fact, she would remain firm.

  Suddenly she slipped backward in her sidesaddle seating. “Oh! Sarah!”

  “Marisa! What is it?”

  Marisa’s saddle gave, and as she slipped farther backward, she reached out for Sarah when it appeared she could not keep her seat. She screamed. As though from far away, she heard Sarah echo her scream, watched as Sarah rode toward her, as Sarah reached out to her. But it was too late.

  Her mount shimmied, neighing, and then it reared. Marisa held tightly to the reins, using all her strength to haul herself up. Sarah, meanwhile, had come up beside her and was reaching out to grab the reins.

  Sarah was trying to help, attempting to settle the animal down. However, her actions only served to pull the reins out of Marisa’s hands.

  Thrown off balance, Marisa grasped for her mount’s neck, but she missed and in a spli
t second realized there was no preventing it. She was going to fall. No sooner had the thought manifested itself than she plummeted off the animal, in a direction that would land her between the two horses. Reaction made her scream once, then again as she hit the ground with a loud thump, her left hip and elbow taking the majority of the impact.

  Her position put her squarely between her own and Sarah’s horse, a very dangerous place, and it took no genius to realize that all that stood between life and a trampling was Sarah’s ability to calm both horses.

  Sarah might be, and was, the most wonderful person of Marisa’s acquaintance, but with horror, Marisa realized her friend was not an expert horsewoman. She simply lacked the experience.

  “Whoa! Whoa! Stay down!”

  As though in slow motion, Marisa heard Sarah’s voice, knowing her attempts to keep the animals calm weren’t working. There was panic in Sarah’s intonation, and the animals sensed it. Marisa’s horse reared yet again, barely missing Marisa as its hoofs hit the solid ground. The action also tugged the reins out of Sarah’s hands.

  What was bad had suddenly turned worse. Marisa’s horse was now fully out of control. Bringing her arms up instinctively to protect herself, Marisa hugged the ground, expecting the worst to happen at any moment. But the worst never came.

  “Whoa! Whoa! Down, boy! Down, boy!”

  Black Eagle. It was strange how split-second thinking had her wondering if Black Eagle and his namesake shared more than a title in common. How had Black Eagle sprinted back to them so quickly? He had been so far in the lead it seemed impossible he should be here now.

  Though she expected to be trampled at any moment, Marisa looked up to witness that Black Eagle had gained control of her mount’s reins, that he had jumped onto her horse’s back and that he was exerting every ounce of his strength to settle the animal.

  It was impossible. Yet it worked. Though his strength was surely tested, Black Eagle’s voice remained calm, soothing. Under Black Eagle’s guidance, the animal settled down, and what had started as a near tragedy turned melodramatic. Almost at once, and contrarily, as though nothing untoward had ever happened, her horse quieted and commenced munching on the grass at its feet.