by Gen Bailey
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Historical Note
Remarks from Benjamin Franklin Regarding the American Indian
On the Edge
“Hold on!” Black Eagle shouted. “I’m going to sweep you both to shore!”
She slipped.
“I can’t!” hollered Sarah, crying, bringing up her other hand to obtain a better grip. “I can’t keep hold. It’s too slippery!”
“Nyoh, you can! You must!”
“I’m trying to, but—”
“She’s slipping away from me!” It was Marisa.
“I’ve got you!” Black Eagle yelled at her. “Keep hold! Keep hold!”
But Sarah’s hands were too wet, as were Marisa’s. Though Sarah tried with all her might, her grip was loosening. Meanwhile, Black Eagle was pitching them toward shore with all his might, but Sarah’s strength was failing. She was crying.
However, Marisa wouldn’t let go. “Sarah! Keep hold!”
It was not to be. With a deafening scream, Sarah’s grip broke and she fell, her screams echoing over the rushing water, drowning out for the moment the sounds of the pounding weight of the falls.
The last thought she had as she swooped down into the water was that she had failed in her duty—she would not be there to chaperone Marisa and Black Eagle. Indeed, her fate now lay elsewhere.
Praise for Black Eagle
“Engaging … Fans of Cassie Edwards will enjoy.”
—Genre Go Round
Berkley Sensation Books by Gen Bailey
SENECA SURRENDER
BLACK EAGLE
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
eISBN : 978-1-101-18637-4
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / April 2010
Copyright © 2010 by Karen Kay Elstner-Bailey
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For Michael Badnarik,
author of the book Good to Be King
and stepfather of the Constitution;
Mellanie K. DeLisle,
for her help and assistance;
and for my husband, Paul Bailey,
who holds my heart.
Acknowledgments
A special thanks goes out to the following who are Gen Bailey’s Warriorettes. You have not only my appreciation, but my utmost respect.
Frances Miller
Cathie Morton
Janet Hughes
Diana Tidlund
Jane Squires
Sheila Lawson
Sharon Crumper
Katherine M. Kakegamic
Dena Walton
Beth Reimer
Terry Stuart
Emma L. Metz
Kristy Centeno
Catherine Abernathy
Denell Wieczorek
Melissa Keith
Amy Lytle
Raeann Williams
Arlene Jones
Marilyn Wigglesworth
Jenny Cooper
Kimberly Roulean
Katherine Edgar
Debra Guyette
Lori Barnes
June Phyllis Baker
Rebekah Elrod
Heather Bennet
Diane Dicke
Tami Bates
Melinda Elmore
Jennifer Johnson
Deanna Fullbright
Sonja Dimitrovski
Dianne Westbrook
Malana Whited
Linda Barnes
Monica M. Carter
Kathy Lynn Reed
Jean Paquin
Robin Priddy
Debbie Mercer
Tressa Thorp
Donna Bratton
Deidre Durance
Carla Corless
Lillian Gilliers
Vickie Batten
Kristen Waxler
Sarah Wendt
Heather Wentz
Paula Willhoite
Pepper Cash
Michele Rose Sonnenberg
Debbie Cosentino
Tamara Miranda
Charlotte Everhart
Author’s Note
I would like to acknowledge the following sources of reference:
The book White Savage by Fintan O’Toole. It was in this book where I first learned the story of how the white race came to America, and learned more of the Condolence Ceremony.
And the book The Code of Handsome Lake, the Seneca Prophet by Arthur C. Parker, 1913.
Both of these books reference the story of how the white race came to America.
Also, the book Roots of the Iroquois by Tehanetorens. It was in this book where I learned the early history of the Iroquois.
It is a time of unrest. Both the English and the French are battling for control of the North American continent. Both seek the support of the united and strong Iroquois Confederation. Deprivations are extant on both sides of the quarrel, the French and Indians of Canada against the English, the Mohawk and Seneca of the Americas.
As always, in any time of dissension, there are those who seek to profi t from the ruin of others.
The Territory of the Iroquois Indians
Lake George area in what is now upstate New York State
By the Lake-That-Turns-to-Rapids
Saskekowa Moon, September 1755
There were eight enemy warriors paddling their two canoes on the lake. One canoe held four of the Ottawa warriors. The other carried two Frenchmen and two more of the Ottawa. At the sight, Sarah’s stomach twisted. They were all heavily armed with guns, tomahawks, hatchets and knives, some carrying two muskets. Sarah’s guide, on the other hand, possessed only one musket, a hatchet, a tomahawk and perhaps several knives. And he was only one against eight.
Sarah bit her lip and placed her arm around Marisa, a younger woman who was under Sarah’s charge. Although Marisa was now full-grown, Sarah, at twenty and nine, was the elder by ten years. Plus, Sarah was Marisa’s confidant and companion, as well as her maid. She was also Marisa’s tutor, and most probably her best friend. So it had been for most of Marisa’s life, and fourteen years of Sarah’s.
“They have seen it,” whispered Black Eagle.
“What? ” muttered Marisa.
“The silver dish. They will come here. And when they discover it, they will find us. Go to the horses now, mount them and ride away from here. Go now! Go fast! Ride to Albany. That will be safest.”
“And leave you? ” It was Marisa speaking.
Sarah watched as Black Eagle looked long and hard at Marisa, his glance emanating a love so deep, it caused Sarah to sigh. In truth, for a moment she wondered if she might ever be on the receiving end of such attention from a man, one who was so deeply in love with you that he was willing to give his life to protect you.
Sarah shook her head and gazed away. She might never know. Indeed, if circumstances continued in the same vein as they had begun this day, this might very well be her last day upon this earth.
At last Black Eagle yanked his gaze away from Marisa and said, “Yes, you are to leave me, and at once. I will hold the enemy off for as long as I can.”
As he spoke, he turned his attention to his weapons, whereupon he proceeded to load his musket with powder and lead. “Go! Now!” He waved them away.
Sarah watched as Marisa hesitated. But then, as though compelled, she inched toward Black Eagle and laid her hand on his arm. She said, “I cannot leave you.”
Sarah would have spoken up in denial, for it was her duty to protect her charge. But she was spared the opportunity.
“You must,” responded Black Eagle gently. “If you stay, you might be killed accidentally. Now go! Both of you, go!”
Sarah was already backing away. Grabbing a handful of the material of Marisa’s dress, she urged the woman to crawl backward along with her. But Marisa broke free of Sarah’s hold and again scooted up close to Black Eagle. Placing her fingers over Black Eagle’s hand, she massaged it gently before she said, “I want you to know that I love you.”
He was quiet, but for a moment only. At last he replied simply, “I know. Now go!”
Unfortunately for Marisa, there was little more to be said. As Sarah watched the two lovers exchange a look, she backed away, and this time Marisa followed.
The horses were already saddled. Both women were good riders, and though Sarah offered a hand to help Marisa into her seat, Marisa waved her away. Sarah wasted no time, and ran to the other mount, but had no more than placed her foot into the stirrup when Thompson appeared out of the woods, running toward them. He was a big man, unclean; plus, in Sarah’s opinion, despite the fact that he was supposed to be their real guide, he was a bully. Lucklessly for them, he had his sights set on Marisa and was shooting toward her like a well-aimed bullet.
“Yaw!” he shouted as he ran. “Where do ye think ye are a-goin’? ”
Neither Sarah nor Marisa had a chance to utter a word. In an instant, Thompson had laid siege upon the two women, attacking Marisa first, pulling her off her seat. Instinctively a scream formed in Sarah’s throat, but more than aware of the enemy about them, she contained it. Whisking her foot out of the stirrup, she came down, landing on both feet. Immediately, she pulled two pistols from their cases on her mount, pushing the guns into the pockets of her dress, and rushed toward Marisa. Thompson held Marisa in his grip, but by sheer willpower alone, Sarah snatched her out of their tormentor’s clutches.
But Thompson was a persistent bully, and bringing up his flintlock, he took aim at Marisa. However, luck was on their side; his gun wasn’t primed.
Both Sarah and Marisa ran for cover. Extracting one of the weapons from her pocket, Sarah handed it to Marisa, keeping the other gun for herself.
Fortunately, Thompson’s shot never materialized. Perhaps the brute was well aware of the threesome’s precarious situation. Mayhap he was cognizant that the three of them—Black Eagle and the two women—might never escape.
Whatever the reason, instead of loading the weapon and taking aim, Thompson merely grinned toward the spot where the women had disappeared. Then, clutching hold of both of the horses, Thompson fled back into the woods. But not before he said, “I leave ye to yer fate.”
“Pray,” Marisa mumbled softly, “Black Eagle was right. It was Thompson who was causing our troubles.”
“Aye,” agreed Sarah, “so it was.”
“Well,” said Marisa, “there’s little we can do now. Let us return to the shore and help Black Eagle as best we can.”
“Yes,” whispered Sarah. But exactly what help they could be to him remained to be seen. They needed Black Eagle’s protection much more than he required theirs. Still, both women bent down to hands and knees, and pushing their skirts out of the way, they scooted back toward Black Eagle.
They found Black Eagle in the same spot where they had left him, and Sarah was quick to note that one of the canoes, the one carrying the two Frenchmen, was continuing on forward on the lake. However, the enemy’s other canoe—the one carrying the four Ottawa warriors—had turned to shore. Sarah glanced at Black Eagle. This was it. It was only she, Marisa and he against a well-armed enemy. What was Black Eagle thinking? she wondered. Was he preparing himself mentally and physically for what was to come?
But what if the confrontation never came? After all, it was possible that the enemy might examine the silver cup that lay next to the shore, the one that had obviously caught their attention, and do no more than be happy with the treasure.
But even as she thought it, Sarah knew it would not be so. The obviously seasoned warriors were Indian; they would take witness of the tracks both she and Marisa had made when they had been washing up after their noonday meal. Indeed, with all the impressions that she and Marisa had left on the shoreline, their prints would lead the Ottawa warriors to them, and neither she, Black Eagle nor Marisa would be spared.
Meanwhile, Black Eagle was alert to the enemy.
“Sir Eagle!” It was Marisa speaking.
Briefly, Black Eagle swung around to look at her. Obviously he had not been expecting this turn of events. He looked incredulous. “Why are you not gone? ” he asked in a whisper. “I told you to leave.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but we cannot do so,” Marisa muttered, her voice quiet. “I fear that Mr. Thompson overpowered us before we had even attained our seats on the horses.”
“Where is Thompson now?”
“He rode away, taking the horses with him. But before he left, Sarah was able to secure these.” She held up her pistol. Sarah did the same.
“Do you know how to use those weapons?” he asked her.
Sarah and Marisa nodded in unison.
Af
ter a moment, Black Eagle ordered beneath his breath, “Both of you, move back behind me. Stay down. Fire only if you get a good shot, otherwise, do no more than watch. If I go down, do not fight the enemy. Yield to them. It is doubtful that they will kill you. Do you understand? Do nothing.”
Sarah nodded. Marisa did the same, and following Black Eagle’s orders, they each one backed away.
Panic was mounting within her, but oddly, now that the moment of confrontation had arrived, Sarah felt a strange calm come over her. She positioned herself for a good shot, checked her powder and took aim.
Meanwhile, the canoe slid silently to shore. Sarah watched as the warriors disembarked in the water, keeping themselves low. Slowly, quietly, they brought their canoe farther inland, anchoring it on the rocks lining the shore.
Stepping onto the ground, one of the warriors bent down, examining the tracks over the rocks. Another warrior crept forward toward the bushes, where Black Eagle, Sarah and Marisa were hiding. The two other warriors were sneaking toward the item that had gained their attention: the silver dish. Black Eagle waited with what appeared to be great patience, until the warrior who was stealing toward the bushes was almost upon him. Then crying out, he jumped up, the savage attack and the element of surprise in his favor. The ploy worked, but only for a fraction of a second. Still it was enough: Black Eagle thrust his tomahawk into the warrior’s neck.
However, with the first war cry, the three other Ottawa warriors went instantly into action. Black Eagle was ready for them. With musket in his left hand, he fired a shot toward one of them. An almost instant scream followed, and another warrior hit the ground.
Without pause, Black Eagle shot forward toward the other two warriors. They were prepared, muskets ready.