Friend Seeker (Perry County, Pennsylvania Frontier Series)

by Roy F. Chandler

  — — —

  Chapter 20

  Only silence and the darkening depth of the gully met his view. The far bank lay empty of life and only the arched body of the Piscataway warrior betrayed the recent violence.

  Despite the trembling of arm and leg and the sting of sweat-clouded eyes, Friend Seeker forced himself to prepare for Hawk Claw. He scrambled to the side of the trail where he had previously selected the best shooting place. He examined his bowstring with care and chose his straightest arrow. The arrow's point remained securely bound to the shaft and the fletched turkey feathers ran true and unbroken. Coming to full draw he tested his arm and his aim. Satisfied, he sank to his haunches, letting his muscles relax and his breathing steady.

  Hawk Claw would be close, but his approach would be more careful than the runner's had been. The Claw would be worried by the runner's silence, but sooner or later he would have to show himself, If he delayed too long he would lose to encroaching darkness and Friend Seeker would be away free. The dilemma was Hawk Claw's and Friend Seeker had only to wait.

  In relaxation, reaction set in. Nervous sweat broke anew and his muscles jumped in involuntary recognition of savage tension held too long. His breathing eased slowly as his mind reviewed the stress of waiting and the vicious strike of his knife into the Piscataway's belly. The Seeker's hard muscled body twitched in vicarious agony and nausea rose and receded in rolling waves.

  It had been a close thing. A more experienced warrior would have been more cautious, for whether his quarry chose to cross or turn aside, only careless haste could have defeated the pursuer.

  It was well that Hawk Claw had not been the one who lingered with the squaw, for he might have acted more wisely. Still, the Claw could not have run as the tall warrior had. The man's speed had been truly unmatchable. Now he lay as dead as the logs beneath him and never again would he challenge an enemy's running. The realization was sobering and the Seeker vowed to thank the Great Spirit many times for his deliverance.

  Still no sound reached him and Friend Seeker nervously reviewed his study of the gully. Could Hawk Claw know of a secret trail through which he now squirmed to attack the ambusher from behind? He didn't believe it! His scouting had been thorough. The closest trail was the traveling path tight against the river, and that or any route his enemy attempted would delay him until dark was upon them. Yet he could not help looking and cautiously examined the far bank as far as he could see it. Even his slight movement disturbed a bird perched on a limb above and it darted away with a quick whir of wings.

  From across the gully a dry chuckle broke the stillness and the Seeker's jaws knotted involuntarily.

  "Hawk Claw is not a boy, oh stranger who waits with ready arrow." The voice was deep and filled with genuine amusement. The sound had come from near the base of a small pine, but a moment later the chuckle again reached the Seeker from a different place. Had the Claw moved to avoid arrows launched blindly at his voice? Or did more than one lurk in the cover of heavy brush. The Seeker mentally flogged himself for the movement that had betrayed his presence. It was an act of inexperience and he would not repeat it.

  The voice of Hawk Claw came again, "Your plan is good, oh enemy. Here you hope to delay us until those slower are safely away, but I wonder if you would dare rise and shoot my companions as they cross if the bow of Hawk Claw guarded them?" Again the dry chuckle and this time Friend Seeker was sure it belonged to the Claw.

  Still he remained unmoving, willing to let the darkness come closer, but the Claw's words raised new doubts, for he had not considered the possibility of a daring warrior risking the crossing while others stood ready to shoot. He doubted their ability to prevent his own shot, but the thought added worry and he judged the sun's descent with increased care.

  "Unfortunately, I am alone, oh enemy, so your body need not tremble. The night is close and you will be soon away, but I would know my enemy's name that the story can be properly told.

  "Say it now that Hawk Claw can know whom he has met."

  It was foolish to speak, but the urge was great. The Seeker prepared his Piscataway with care and chose the new spot to which he would crawl.

  "I am called Friend Seeker, oh Hawk Claw, and I am truly your enemy." The Seeker rolled away, although no arrow tore the bushes. The words had felt good and he waited their effect on Hawk Claw.

  For a long moment there was silence as Hawk Claw considered. When he again spoke, his voice lacked anger and interest filled his words.

  "The name Friend Seeker is strange to Hawk Claw, but the voice is young and speaks with the twists of a Delaware." The Claw was again silent as though weighing his words.

  "Has the Delaware the heart to face Hawk Claw with the safety of this draw between us?"

  The Seeker almost laughed aloud but the Claw continued, "Of course Friend Seeker cannot know that Hawk Claw is truly alone, but Hawk Claw cannot be certain that Friend Seeker is also without companions. Who, we could wonder, has a warrior's heart or who suffers a squaw's fears?" Leaves moved and Hawk Claw's head and shoulders appeared above a fallen log.

  Friend Seeker studied the Piscataway with care. The Claw's act was not as dangerous as it appeared for at the slightest movement or sound he could be behind protection, but his action was still brave and the Seeker respected it.

  "Come, Friend Seeker, show yourself that we can speak as warriors should. From the face of an enemy one can learn many things." The eyes of Hawk Claw seemed to focus directly on the Seeker's hiding place.

  Hawk Claw was maneuvering him and in that there was danger. He recalled Three Feathers' warning that strange bonds grew between those who fought each other and he could feel them budding even now. He wondered if Hawk Claw felt the same or did he lay a trap for his enemy. Most likely he prepared a trap, but the Seeker resolved to meet the Claw's outward courage.

  He rose a little, until his upper body was exposed to Hawk Claw's view, but he allowed thick trees to hide him from the sight of others who could be hidden along the bank.

  For a long moment the Claw's hard gaze scoured his features and Friend Seeker could feel its power and intensity. Then his wry chuckle softened the coldness of his eye and he stepped over his log and completely into view. Hawk Claw stood exposed, hands on his hips, his bow left behind, the proud arrogance of his stance daring the Seeker to match him.

  Clad only in loincloth, his powerful body streaked with the sweat of his run, Hawk Claw's presence struck the Seeker an almost physical blow. Three Feathers had spoken often of the old times when warriors had stood brave in their honor and challenged their enemy's heart, holding their pride and courage above an enemy's blows. Then, it was said, killing had been less than the showing of courage. Bravery had been the measure of honor and warriors might choose to die before showing the white feather of fear that would shame their people.

  Was this rarest of things what Hawk Claw now showed him? The Seeker trembled at the possibility of it and feared that it might not be. To experience such an act would be a memory for a lifetime, but if Hawk Claw merely lured him into another's arrow he could die a fool amid the laughter of his enemies. Of course, there was the reactions taught by Snake's Tongue that should turn him for a flying arrow, but . . .

  Even as his mind rebelled, his body acted, and Friend Seeker stepped forward, bow at his side, into Hawk Claw's full view. He drew himself proudly erect, driving his own gaze fearlessly into that of the Piscataway's. His nerves and muscles braced for an arrow's slashing flight, but it did not come.

  Slowly a flush of emotion rose within him. A confidence mightier than anything known before infused his spirit and he experienced a certainty that he was specially chosen and that nothing could quell the well-spring of power that flowed from within his soul.

  Now he understood the words of Three Feathers and now he knew the heart of Hawk Claw, the Piscataway. It was honor that made the fierceness of the warrior's way tolerable and it was honor that stood equal with duty to his people and himself. W
ith honor, a man strode among the great and he knew that having once tasted its splendor, to be without honor would be the same as death. The voice of Hawk Claw returned him to earth.

  "You are young to stand so proudly, Delaware." Hawk Claw's eyes studied him as though burning the Seeker's image forever into his mind, but his voice held no contempt.

  Still half expecting an arrow, the Seeker chose not to answer, and the Claw looked away to peer over the gully edge at the body of the runner sprawled face up on the broken logs. For a long instant he gazed upon his late companion before turning away with a grunt of disgust. For another moment he examined the path by the great oak while Friend Seeker waited in watchful silence.

  Again Hawk Claw muttered in disgust. "You waited like the panther and struck when the fool rushed by. Often he was warned that his mind must go before his quickness. He did not listen!"

  He turned again to Friend Seeker. "You claim to be the enemy of Hawk Claw, oh Delaware. How can this be? We have not met before."

  "We have met, Hawk Claw. A summer before, you hurled my body into a briar thicket, and I escaped you in the cane field."

  Hawk Claw's grunt was truly astonished. "You have grown, oh Delaware, and now I understand your name. Alone, you have sought your friend and alone you have found him." The claw exhaled audibly—in open admiration, the Seeker believed.

  "You have done well, Friend Seeker, but you have also been lucky. Until now you have fought only hunters and outwitted the foolish. Now you are known and Piscataway warriors may take your trail. Now it will be different."

  Friend Seeker carefully, choose Piscataway words and forced strength into his voice.

  "My task among the Piscataway is finished, oh Hawk Claw. My friend is beyond your reach and will soon be among his people. Friend Seeker also leaves the land of the Piscataway and does not choose to war with them. If warriors follow too closely, Friend Seeker will fight, but the fighting will not be of his making."

  The Claw nodded short understanding. "But you have killed my companion and stolen captives . . ." Friend Seeker interrupted.

  "As your companion killed my friend and captured another."

  "You have warred on Piscataway land!"

  "As you warred on Delaware land!"

  "My companions will soon be with me."

  "My companions have gone, and I will soon follow."

  "I could circle and find your trail."

  "And I could circle and again find your village."

  For a long breath Hawk Claw glowered. Then his features cleared and his lips quirked with appreciation.

  "You are a man, young Delaware!"

  "As you are a warrior, Hawk Claw!"

  Their nods of understanding were mutual.

  When Hawk Claw spoke again his words were almost ceremonial and he stood tall with his feet close and his powerful chest full and arched. His hands echoed his words, and Friend Seeker took their meaning to his heart and stored them forever in his mind.

  "Friend Seeker has spoken well. His words are straight and his eye is true.

  "The heart of Friend Seeker, the Delaware, is bright with honor and it is the wish of Hawk Claw to respect such honor.

  "In time, Hawk Claw could find the trail of Friend Seeker or he could travel to the banks of the distant Juniata and wait there for Friend Seeker." The Seeker's belly tightened at the thought. "But Hawk Claw cherishes honor and courage above all things, and he chooses another trail."

  Hawk Claw paused and Friend Seeker held his breath in anticipation. The Claw raised his strongest arm high with his palm open to his face and spoke intensely.

  "Among the Piscataway people, one vow speaks strongest of all.

  "For the true honor of Friend Seeker, the Delaware, Hawk Claw of the Piscataway gives his honor. These words once given can never be returned.

  "From where the sun now stands, Hawk Claw will fight Friend Seeker no more."

  For a long instant Hawk Claw remained immobile. Then he turned his palm outward in silent departure and was gone into the forest.

  Stunned, Friend Seeker sought the protection of his own forest. His fingers tingled and his breath grew short as the oath of Hawk Claw gained meaning. A true warrior had so honored him that he had chosen to turn from the warpath and fight no more.

  Silently the Seeker pursed his lips in amazed gratification. Only the old ones spoke of such mighty vows, and only Three Feathers truly remembered them. Could such acts be common among the Piscataway? Friend Seeker doubted it, as he had watched long and detected no binding traditions such as the Iroquois might still boast.

  In his heart, he knew Hawk Claw was special—one of the few who cherished the ways of the grandfathers and sought only the highest of challenges. That he, Friend Seeker, had chosen such a warrior as his enemy weakened knees. To have such a warrior extend him honor, granted Friend Seeker dignity and respect beyond his wildest imaginings. He wondered if the men of his village would believe when he told his story. Three Feathers would believe and accept a part of the honor as his own. If they met again, Oak Neck would believe, for he too knew the right ways. The others? Few would even understand, he supposed.

  Hawk Claw was gone. Friend Seeker knew it as surely as he recognized his own wish to be away. The Claw would fight and he would kill, but he would not lie. Friend Seeker hoped that Hawk Claw knew that his vow was understood and that honor was also known and cherished by the Delaware. It came to him that the Claw did know, for it was the honor of Friend Seeker's task that Hawk Claw respected.

  With goose bumps crawling along his skin, the Seeker took the trail away from the gully. He imagined Hawk Claw standing before his council fire speaking of Friend Seeker and his own mighty vow. Hawk Claw would describe how the Seeker had come twice to the village and how Friend Seeker had guarded while the weaker had escaped. He wished he could sit with Hawk Claw and tell of Late Star's escape by canoe. He could imagine the Piscataway tugging his hair lock in disgust at himself and admiration for Friend Seeker's plan.

  What would the other poor warriors think of Hawk Claw's vow and of their friend's death? The Seeker stopped in mid-stride. He forced his thoughts back through the desperate moments and found it best to step aside while he reconsidered all that had happened.

  Crossing the savannah only the runner and Hawk Claw had appeared. Why had that been? Had the other two warriors continued past the village and traveled beyond hearing when the squaws began their clamor? He doubted that. Reaching a village would be occasion for a rest and the meeting of friends or enjoyment of a meal. It was also late in the day and surely all would have stayed the night.

  When the squaws raised alarm, the runner had been closest and had taken the trail alone. That was clear enough. In the village, Hawk Claw and the others would have been warned together.

  Now he had it! Hawk Claw would have instructed the younger warriors to fill their pouches and probably his own. They would prepare for a chase of many suns. They would follow when ready, moving at a more moderate pace and catching the others when they slowed to work out the trail or pause for the night. By now Hawk Claw would have met the other two on the trail.

  Friend Seeker found himself retracing his steps back toward the gully, his pace increasing as his thoughts hardened.

  What would the Claw's words to the young warriors have been? He would have told of his vow. He would have spoken of the runner's death in the gully and warned of Friend Seeker's presence. Would he have ordered the two away? Friend Seeker doubted it. The Claw possessed no special authority. He would warn and he might suggest. What would the warriors do? Friend Seeker nocked an arrow and increased his stride.

  Before he came to the gully he heard them crossing. Their noise was appalling but he supposed his own had been as bad. There was no way to silently rush through the broken trees.

  The sun was gone, and approaching the gully's lip he could not clearly see the other side. Below, two dimly seen figures writhed amid the tumble. The warriors had ignored the advice of Haw
k Claw.

  If the Seeker warned them they would find cover and follow at first light. If he killed one, would the other give up the chase, or might he seek some distant vengeance?

  Perhaps he should silently withdraw and rely on his speed and the night as he had originally planned, but he wondered if a Delaware should continually run away. He also wondered if the warriors might not attempt to avenge their companion even to the banks of the Buffalo. If these two died would others take their places? The answers could not be known but he had been often warned that war was not a game, and if it had seemed so when facing Hawk Claw, that had been a rare exception.

  Grimly he studied the progress of the warriors. They were nearly across but were still hard to see in the failing light. If he warned them they would find cover in the dark and he might be silhouetted against the sky as he sought their hiding places.

  Patient as death he waited. Feather-silent, he drew his great war bow and as the Piscataway began the final climb he stepped to the edge and released his arrow.

  The hiss of death lay in the shaft's short flight and with its sound Piscataway eyes rolled upward, seeking its source and knowing the bitterness of terrible error.

  Past the leading warrior, the arrow zipped to chug solidly into the body of the second warrior. At close range the war arrow drove deep and halted the stricken Piscataway in his tracks.

  The unhit warrior reacted with lightning reflexes. His war cry split the night's silence and he hurled his useless bow In the Seeker's direction. He climbed like an enraged panther flowing up the steep bank in a mighty rush, clawing an iron tomahawk from his waist as he came.