by RITA GERLACH
“You make it sound so easy, and for you I’m sure it is.”
“An Indian knows these things.”
Nash paused and watched an eagle bank across the sky. “What we need is a miracle.” He kicked a stone over the edge.
“Mr. Boyd looked not so good,” Black Hawk said.
“I’m glad Pierce took him back to the fort. For if his daughter is dead in the forest, and he was to find her…if I found Rebecah…”
“My brother mustn’t think too hard.”
Nash got up and brushed the side of his buckskins. Maldowney drew up beside him.
“Which way now?” he asked.
“West toward that range along the river.”
He searched the westward ridge. Venus stood out above the mountains, and the moon rose above it. Black Hawk opened his arms toward the heavens. Nash took a step back, and looked on with his heart breaking for his wife.
Black Hawk sang in a clear golden voice that echoed across the deep ravines and recesses of the mountains.
Lord of Heaven and of Earth, show us the path!
Ehu! Ehu! Ehu!
Master of Heaven and of Life, give us strength!
Ehu! Ehu! Ehu!
Upward Nash gazed, and what he saw took his breath away. The lone eagle he had seen before flew across the face of a great cloud etched in the last silver light of sunset. Its outstretched wings caught the wind and it flew higher. Swooping down it screeched, and something powerful rushed into his soul. He felt her near, smelled her perfume on the breeze, felt the strands of her hair brush over his cheek. He heard her voice faintly, and even fainter that of a babe’s cry. He had to find them even if it meant laying his life down, hoping Jean LaRoux would fall into his hands.
* * *
They passed through thick forests along an old Indian hunting trail. The trail was narrow and indiscernible, having been forgotten through the ages. All that day they traveled along it. When night fell, they slept in a grove of hemlocks with inches thick pine needles to cushion the hard ground.
By noon the following day, now closer to the headwaters of the Potomac, to the branch of the Savage, Black Hawk discovered a sign. Nash hurried forward when Black Hawk raised his hand. A piece of blue cloth fluttered from a wild rosebush. Nash pulled it off and closed his hand over it.
They proceeded a mile or more, close to the ridge with the river below. They were to cross it, when Nash caught sight of something moving along the other side. He hurried to the edge of the ridge and lay on his belly. The others followed his lead.
“There’s the rogue,” he said in a low voice.
Maldowney pushed back his red shock of hair into his hat. “May the Lord render swift judgment upon his soul if it cannot be saved.”
“Yes, and allow me to be His instrument.”
“Do you see the women?” Maldowney asked.
“No.” Nash set his teeth. “I’ll kill the cursed blackguard.”
Nash pushed his musket butt hard against his shoulder and squeezed the trigger. LaRoux’s hand gripped his arm and he stumbled forward. He rolled part way down the hillside, and then scurried like a frightened rabbit back into the brush.
With no time to lose, Nash ran after him. He wanted to find LaRoux and kill him. A flesh wound was not enough.
He thrashed across the river to the other side and climbed the bank. In the forest, Nash looked through the trees, up the ridge. No sign. Just then, an Indian sprang from behind a tree. Nash dodged the attack and swung his musket.
The Indian, a youth, fell backward. He threw his hands over his head and began to chant, shaking and with his eyes rolling back.
“Black Hawk!” shouted Nash. “Either tell me what this savage means, or…”
“He prays his death song,” Black Hawk answered. “He is crazy in the head.”
“Tell him I won’t kill him.”
Black Hawk spoke to the boy and the boy, ceasing his song, gazed up at him. Nash pulled him to his feet.
“Ask him where the women LaRoux captured are.”
Black Hawk spoke calmly. The boy listened, and the wild emotions that had been driving him settled.
Black Hawk asked him, “What name have your fathers given you.”
“Soaring Eagle.”
“Where is your village?”
“West, upriver.”
“Why were you running, little brother?”
The boy swallowed and his expression turned to grief. “Beyond those trees my father lies dead. He is Grey Wolf, a great warrior. LaRoux led him from the trail of peace, from joining our brothers in war. LaRoux is angry the woman he wanted slipped away with two others. When we returned to the village, we left with LaRoux to find them. Then my father wanted to turn back, and so LaRoux tried to kill him.”
Black Hawk turned to Nash and in English said, “They are alive. And they escaped. We are close to them, my brother.”
CHAPTER 30
Mist rose from the dark hollows of the mountains. Along an Indian hunting path that had been long forgotten and overtaken with moss and dead leaves, the women emerged hungry and tired. Rebecah walked ahead of the others. Her boots were worn through and her clothing torn from branches and thorns. But the steady walking, the fresh water and air, the sustaining roots and blackberries had strengthened her.
Abby, as she was called, thrived at her breast and was a peaceful child. Yet Rebecah knew they needed more to eat, else her milk would cease and her baby die.
Weariness lay in Maddie’s eyes. Now thin as a reed, she labored with each step. Theresa now looked a wild thing, her face gaunt and dirty, her hair hanging in a mass of twists.
They passed along a wooded foothill. Below, between two precipitous mountains lay a glade hidden by great trees of pine, walnut, and oak, where sunlight filtered through the breaks like silver stems.
“What is it?” asked Theresa in a quiet voice.
“I see smoke rising above that line of trees,” said Rebecah. “It’s faint and a distance away, but it means someone is there.”
“We must avoid it,” said Theresa alarmed. “It could be an Indian camp.”
“No, for they set fires in the late evening. It could be Jack.”
Rebecah slowed her steps. Theresa and Maddie stood beside her sighing with relief to see a cabin. She felt this too. But as she looked at the flowers of the field, thinking how much more lovely they were arrayed than any silken-dressed ladies at a ball, the reality touched her that she and her friends were no longer alone.
Arm in arm the women emerged from the woods. A shorthaired dog on the porch perked up its ears, stood, and bayed. Rebecah’s babe cried.
From the cabin door, a woman put her hand above her eyes.
“There’s a woman. Oh, she will help us.”
The woman dropped her hand. She shouted for her man who, upon hearing his wife’s panicked voice, came running around the corner with musket in hand.
Holding Maddie between them, Rebecah and Theresa moved on hoping this secluded couple would not turn them away. Maddie collapsed in their arms. The baby continued to cry, and would not be comforted. The dog ran ahead of its master and barked.
“Please,” Rebecah said with heaving breath. “We were captured by Indians and have escaped. Please, give us shelter until we can go on.”
“Come up to the cabin,” said the woman. “You’ve no reason to fear here. Dear Lord, you’ve an infant with you.”
“My daughter Abigail.”
“Have you milk to give her?”
“I do. Though I believe not for much longer.”
“’Tis easily remedied. We have food aplenty here, and I’ve a child I’m nursing. What a miracle that you and your wee one survived.”
The woman’s husband put up his hand, and the women halted in their steps. Rebecah’s heart sunk. The man’s stature did not trouble her; it was the look in his eyes. He was bearded, and wore the buckskins so prevalent to the backwoodsman. In his appearance, as well as his lady’s, he had not sta
rved, nor had he feasted. His face was lined by a hard life. The gray eyes showed suspicion and caution.
“How do I know you haven’t been followed? If you have, the Indians will be coming down upon us. I cannot risk it.”
He turned away. His wife called him back in an alarming tone. “Are you the man I married? Or are you some cold-hearted creature I do not know?”
Turning his head, he looked at her.
Wide-eyed, Rebecah stood forward. “You mean to turn us away? We are three women in distress, and I with an infant.”
“Only a bounder would dare!” Theresa began, but Rebecah put her hand on Theresa’s shoulder to calm her. The man frowned.
Abigail continued to cry and Rebecah cradled her. “If you will not take us in, at least give us food and water.”
“I would not deny you that,” he said.
“But you would deny us protection.”
“I have to think of my family.”
“That is honorable indeed. Nevertheless, as a man and a Christian, is it not also in your power to help us? For I’m certain we haven’t been followed. We’ve traveled over these mountains for days without seeing another human being. If indeed you fear reprisal, then give us something to carry and we will be on our way, though we are tired and our Maddie is ill.”
The man paused and looked at her with a steady yet contemplating light in his eyes. By it, the certainty he was not a cold man by nature could be seen. He lifted his eyes and looked toward the woods. There was no movement within it, no Indian slipping through the brush.
“I believe you,” he said. “I’ve seen one Indian in these parts, and that was six months back. He was an old fellow either lost or looking for a place to die.”
“Then we are beyond their reach?” Theresa asked.
“Aye, that may be. Come inside. My Liddy will give you something to eat.”
Hours later, after eating a feast of venison stew, the women were hopeful. Next to Liddy was her own babe’s cradle, and she rocked him as she talked with Rebecah.
“It is quiet in this place.” Rebecah laid Abby in a basket the woman had provided, and folded a blanket over her. “I imagine it is a good life, but there is danger living so far from a settlement or town. Why did you come so far?”
“To get away from those who wished to keep us apart,” Liddy said. “It was the only way for us to be happy.”
“Your family did not agree with your choice of a husband?”
“They were against it. We could have gone north, but they would have followed us. My father is an unforgiving man and would have gone to any length to keep me from the man I wanted.”
“I have loved like you.”
Liddy turned her eyes to Rebecah. “Then you know what it’s like to suffer for love’s sake?”
“Indeed I have known it well, yet the joys of love I have known to be greater.”
“I believe there are many women like us in the world.”
“More than we may know.”
“But I think some of them to be cowards, for they forfeit true love for money and a life of comfort.”
“You are brave indeed, Liddy.”
“I was a lady once.” Her son whimpered and she lifted him from the cradle. “My family has lived in Baltimore for more than a hundred years. The house is a large manor, and the plantation is prosperous. My father raises horses, and has not lacked a single day of his life. My mother is kind but cared not for my happiness in love. She cared not for her own, so why should she have wished anything else for me? She sat silent while my father commanded me to marry where I did not love.”
“Why did they reject your choice?”
“My father supports the King. William has revolutionary ideas.”
“Ah, my husband faced the same problem while in England. That is where we met. How did you get away?”
“William came to my window during the dead of night. He pulled me out and we stood together beneath the stars in each other’s arms. How could we be parted? So we escaped and came here…Tell me your story. It must’ve been frightening to have been taken by the savages.”
Rebecah told her all that had happened, from the day of her father’s death to her leaving England to come to the man she loved. She then said, “I fear for my husband.”
CHAPTER 31
Morning sunlight drenched the trees of the forest. A night passed beneath a roof, refreshed by food and drink, and a warm blanket. Theresa cared for the woman who once nursed her back to health. Maddie was resigned to whatever was God’s will.
“I’ll stay or go,” she said. “It don’t matter to me. I’m old and weary and destined for Heaven.”
Standing outside on the porch, Rebecah looked toward the river. She wondered if she should risk a washing. The grime on her body irritated her, and she felt ill from it.
She looked back inside the cabin and told Liddy, “I wish to go down to the water’s edge and bathe.”
“It’s what I do on warm days,” Liddy said. “The water will do you good if you find the right pool. You go on. There are plenty of us here to watch your Abby for a while.”
She followed a narrow path. Birds stirred in the trees. Dragonflies rested upon wet stones, and a single cabbage moth fluttered over the dying flower of a pink lady slipper.
She listened to the breeze and the gurgle of water moving over the rocks. She glanced up, hearing the caw of a kingfisher. He stood upon a branch, blue-gray in the light, a minnow in the claw of his foot. He whipped it up to his beak and swallowed it, and rising from the branch, flew away.
Awed, she drew off her dress and careworn shoes, and stepped into the water. She scrubbed her limbs, bent over letting the water rush through her hair, through her tattered chemise. Tears came up into her eyes and she began to weep. She splashed the water over her face, and stood there trembling. The torments she had been through surfaced and overflowed.
She walked up the bank and sat beneath a willow.
“God,” she whispered, “I will go on believing he is searching for me. Until I reach home, I’ll go on believing. But you must make me strong in my faith, gird me up so I do not stumble.”
Suddenly her skin prickled. Something near. Something dark and dangerous. A shadow fell over her as she lay in the grass. It blocked out the sunlight that touched her eyelids. It forced away the warmth of the sun on her skin. She gasped. Her eyes flew open and she saw a man standing over her, the thrums of his buckskins quivering in the breeze.
Scrambling away, her feet pushing against the earth, her hands reached for something to protect her. Rebecah tried to cry out, but could not.
As she moved back the man followed, taking deliberate steps until the trunk of a tree prevented Rebecah from going on. She twisted to the right and tried to stand, but he held her wrist.
Then he spoke to her. “Did you think I would not search for you? Did you think I would not find you and take you back to where you belong?”
Rebecah struggled against the man who held her wrists. With swift cruelty, he clasped his dirty hand over her mouth before she could cry out. In horror, her eyes fixed upon his dark ones, and filled up.
Even though her heart was pounding, Rebecah worked her mind, and knew her choices were few. Either struggle and risk LaRoux’s knife, or submit and live. If she were to alarm the others, they could fall prey to him. She could not bear to think of her precious infant dead because of her. The Monroes had shown a great deal of kindness. They too had a child. Then there was Maddie and Theresa. No, she would not resist him. She would do whatever he demanded in order to save the lives of the others.
LaRoux ran his eyes over her. “You’ve had your child?”
She nodded.
“Then you know what will happen to it if you cry out.” He removed his hand from her mouth.
“Yes, I know what cruelty you would show, even to a child.”
“You will not speak again, but come with me. They will all die if you do not. It would not be hard to do. There’s but
one man and I watched him go into the woods to hunt.”
He touched her hair, brought a damp curl over her shoulder. Then he brought it to his lips and kissed the silken strands. His touch frightened her, repulsed her.
A strange light shone in LaRoux’s eyes, a light that said he believed himself triumphant, that he had gained what he desired, and soon would conqueror her. Rebecah looked away and stood back. LaRoux put out his hand and motioned for her to come. It was then she noticed the blood on his jacket.
LaRoux laughed. “Ah, you see my wound? It’s but a graze. Do you wish to know how I came by it?”
“Why should I?”
“You will want to know the name of the man who did this.”
“It is unfortunate he missed his mark.”
“You’re sorry he did not kill me?” He drew close and grabbed her by the arm. His mouth curved into a cruel sneer. “I tell you this. I will kill him if we meet again. You will watch him cry like a woman and beg for his life. You will watch Nash die.”
Her heart slammed. Jack!
When he took her by the arm to lead her away, she looked back at the peaceful dwelling on the knoll, and wondered if she would ever see the ones she loved—her child and husband—again.
CHAPTER 32
The three men hurried on without speaking, keeping their eyes keen and their hearing sharp. They had no time to cover the footprints they made, but made every effort to conceal their going, by mounting great rocks and making over them, rushing over leafy turf, and avoiding the slim, protruding branches of the younger trees so not to break them.
Black Hawk discovered a fresh trail. Moccasin tracks and boot tracks were evident. Several yards ahead, Nash looked out across a glade. What he saw made his blood run cold.
From the shadows of the trees emerged warriors. Fringed scalplocks hung from their leather leggings. Feathers in their hair were those belonging to the eagle and hawk. Hatchets at their belts glinted in the sunlight. Quivers strapped on their backs were full of arrows.
Nash moved back with bravery rising in his heart. Through the black war paint that crossed the Indian’s eyes, Nash recognized Angry Bear.