Lord of the Wilderness

by Elizabeth St. Michel

  If the rumors were true, with War Chiefs Onontio and Thayendanegea on the move, the entire area might flow red with blood. The enormity of reality piled on top of her like a million invisible blankets, suffocating her under the weight.

  Concern grew in Blackberry Valley. But Allerton, the buffoon, remained unmoved. Juliet prayed his foolishness wouldn’t be their demise. She shuddered as hideous images flared through her mind.

  Grace smiled when they entered the Powers’ home, and then took their wraps. “They are in the dining room having breakfast, but you will have to wait until they are done. The Powers’ do not like their meals disturbed.”

  Boots dripping snow, Juliet marched into the dining room with Caroline on her heels.

  The men stood. Charity sneered. Comfort harrumphed. Cornelia and Chastity tittered between one another.

  Bethany narrowed her eyes on Grace and said, “How many times have I told you not to disturb us during meals. There will be repercussions.”

  “It isn’t Grace’s fault,” said Juliet. “I chose to interrupt.”

  Charles Powers jerked his tight waistcoat over his girth and with stentorian imperiousness, intoned, “What do we owe the honor, Miss Farrow and Mrs. Bell?”

  “We’ve come to complain concerning the lack of protection there is for Blackberry Valley,” said Juliet, impatient with the forced smiles and sneering glances sent her way.

  The men took their seats again.

  Colonel Ichabod Allerton held up his glass in a toast. The wine was deep red and the glow from the candles reflected off the glass. “To the continued safety of Blackberry Valley.”

  “Hear! Hear!” murmured an echo of followers and they drank the toast with obvious pleasure.

  Allerton set the glass down on the polished oak table and delicately brushed at his lips with the knuckle of his index finger. “I’m available to hear complaints from the local citizenry, especially one so lovely as you, Miss Farrow.”

  A vein pulsed in Juliet’s neck. Her spine went ramrod straight. You patronizing fool. “Not good enough, especially with you camped in luxury. Don’t you feel any responsibility to those who are vulnerable and under your protection?”

  Allerton expelled a long drawn-out sigh. “I know when I first came here, the backwoodsman had some concerns, but I have rectified the situation. I hope you see I was right in my assessment of the state of affairs. And I’ll point out there has been no attack by War Chiefs Onontio and Thayendanegea, and there will be none. The Indians are obviously cowed by the military strength we have here.”

  “I agree,” said Lieutenant Johnson nodded like a woodpecker ready to strike. Of course, the lieutenant’s concurrence with his superior meant nothing. If Allerton told him the sun would spin and pitch into the earth, Lieutenant Johnson would concur.

  Charles Powers leaned indolently in his chair. “Female hysterics will create an unnecessary disturbance, Miss Farrow, promoting worry and a waste of time.”

  Bethany patted her lips with her napkin. “Charles is right, Juliet. You mustn’t yield to excitement. It is so unladylike.”

  Juliet pinned her glare over every one of them. “There is every justification for Blackberry Valley residents to be fearful. Look what has happened around us this year—destruction at Fort Benkins and Summermute, Cobleskill, Wyoming, Andrustown, Schoharie, the German Flats.”

  Charles tapped his finger on the table. “Blackberry Valley might have fallen as well, but with our pleas for troops granted, and the winter period upon us, we are no longer at risk.”

  “The danger has not passed,” hissed Juliet.

  Charles pulled at his beard and shook his head. “Well now, I wouldn’t say that. Perhaps the danger’s not passed, but it should be concluded for this year, don’t you agree, Colonel Allerton?” He eyeballed the fort commander.

  “Of course, of course! I assure you, gentlemen and—ladies, Blackberry Valley can breathe freely. The season is much too advanced for any sort of attack to be launched against us. This is especially true since Onontio’s and Thayendanegea’s bases of operations at Tionnontigo and Onaguaga have been destroyed. As for the next spring—” he shrugged. “That’s another matter.”

  Colonel Allerton chuckled and added, “Maybe Onontio and Thayendanegea will die of pneumonia during the winter, now that we’ve burned his wigwam.”

  “I am not so heartened,” said Juliet. “You have done nothing to improve the safety of Blackberry Valley. There are little or no improvements to the fort. You have not added more troops. We are at the mercy of Onontio and Thayendanegea if they attack.”

  Charles picked up his knife, cut off a piece of steak and swirled it through his egg yolk. “Everyone knows Indians do not attack in the winter. They are hunting to get through the starving period.”

  Lieutenant Johnson chuckled. “The Indians don’t like the cold any more than we do. They’d much rather be sitting around warm fires in their longhouses, snuggled beneath their blankets.

  “Agreed.” Allerton raised his glass again. “I’ll drink to that!”

  “Hear, hear!” said the others, all laughing and they drank, too.

  Juliet balled her fists in her skirts. “I have witnessed what horrors Onontio is capable of. Your indolence, arrogance and recklessness will be our deaths.”

  Colonel Allerton narrowed his eyes on Juliet. “Rest your pretty head. The savages are the greatest of fools. To initiate a major onslaught in the winter is beyond their stupidity.”

  His comment again was met with uproarious laughter.

  How they made her feel like an old woman she had seen roaming the streets of Leicestershire, screaming that the rats in her hair told her Judgement Day was upon them. How she itched to tear the rich paintings off the wall, to take the candelabra off the table and bludgeon sense in every one of their skulls. “The greatest fools are often times cleverer than the men who laugh at them. While you continue your journey of hubris, remember to dig your graves.”

  * * *

  As paralyzing and upsetting as it was to think of another Indian attack, Juliet vowed to be ready. Never again would she be unprepared. She had walked through fire and wasn’t the scared naïve girl anymore. She was stronger, organizing and planning an escape with the logistical deliberation of a general. With Thomas, time was set aside to practice shooting. Guns were cleaned and ammunition readied. Mink oil was smeared on everyone’s boots to make them waterproof. Dried food, extra socks, scarves, a tinder box, candles, a knife, bundles of clothes and quilts were hauled up to the cave with countless trips. Backpacks were sewn with strong straps to carry the loads on their backs for last-minute items.

  She worried about Caroline. Heavy with child, could she make the difficult climb to the cave if the need arose? With so many young children to care for, the odds were against them, but Juliet refused to give in to defeat. On guard, she looked out the windows constantly, drilling the children in the eventuality of an attack. She laughed. Oh, yes, they’d leave at the first wind of attack and escape Onontio.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Menacing gray clouds scudded across the sky, spitting stinging snow crystals on Joshua’s face. Over the past two months, fears involving New York and Pennsylvania’s frontiers were growing. From the Indian villages of the upper Susquehanna in the southwest—especially the large village of Oquaga to the upper Mohawk Valley—and of paramount concern lay the principal Indian trail running directly through Blackberry Valley. The few Mohawks remaining at Canajoharie under Chief Steyawa were keeping strictly to themselves and had promised neutrality, but the Indians of the villages southward had not. The news from Fort Niagara alarmed him the most. General Butler and his Rangers along with numerous Senecas, had made their way to the Genesee River, traveling down the Chemung River to Tioga and up the Susquehanna inching closer to Blackberry Valley. Something fearful yielded in every footfall, the hills boiling with greed and violence.

  Joshua had traveled to Fort Clinton to meet up with Colonel Putnam and had
been ordered to scout north, and then west, careful to stay away from British troops, now that it was confirmed he was a spy. During the two months, he’d written Juliet, regretting his delays and every second he was away from her. He needed news of the east and the south and moved down the valley onto the farm of trusted Patriot and courier, Jacob Smith.

  “Scalping parties have been sent out,” said Jacob. “Thayendanegea and Onontio are boasting how Butler and Snapes will unite forces to be in the march to Fort Stephen and Blackberry Valley. John Butler’s father is mustering more Rangers by the beat of the drum.”

  Joshua’s muscles went rigid. Why did he waste time in the west? “What else?”

  “In Cobleskill, a small party of Iroquois drew the local defenders into a trap, set by a much larger party of Iroquois and Loyalists headed by Thayendanegea. Militia members took cover in a house and Thayendanegea burned it. Twenty-two settlers were killed, eight wounded. The seven captives that were taken had to run the gauntlet, and then were forced to build their own funeral pyre. The savages celebrated as they burned those poor men at the stake. They killed the militia and destroyed the village.”

  “Damn!” Joshua spat out.

  The courier shook his head. “The massacre at Wyoming was worse. Colonel Butler and his Senecas raided the valley across the border into Pennsylvania. They took five prisoners, burned a thousand homes, taking two hundred and twenty-seven scalps.

  “Fort Peterson fell badly. The commander escaped on horseback with his wife. Only sixty Patriot militia made it out alive. The rest were tortured, slain and scalped. The countryside has been laid to waste, homes burned, settlers burned in their beds, children abducted. Now the War Chief Thayendanegea has congregated larger numbers of his Mohawks along the Susquehanna near Windsor to attack frontier settlements in retaliation to the Continental Army attacking and destroying Onaguaga and Tionnontigo.”

  “What are their numbers?” Joshua asked.

  “Like the leaves. There are nearly two hundred and fifty Tory Rangers, three hundred and fifty Hanau chasseurs.”

  Joshua gazed off over the mountain. Hanau chasseurs were German light infantry troops trained for rapid maneuvering. “What else?”

  “They have forty experienced artillerists equipped with a pair of six-pounder cannon, two three-pounders and four cohorns. With the thousand Indians assembled under the principled command of Thayendanegea of the Mohawks, Cornplanter, Onontio of the Onondagas and Gucinge of the Senecas, you have a combined force of approximately two thousand men under St. Leagear.

  Joshua had met Brigadier General Robert St. Leagear in London, a King’s man, not an expert strategist nor a daring or imaginative commander, more a pompous ass. Yet he was probably smart enough to listen to Butler and his experiences battling in the wilderness.

  A stripe of fear rattled up his spine. Fort Stephens was closest to the march and ill-prepared for the coming onslaught. What lay next in the path of the British legion was the vulnerable treasure trove of Blackberry Valley. How could he be in two places at once? If he ever needed Two Eagles by his side, it was now. But wishing wasn’t going to make it happen.

  “Captain Milburn Snapes has brought troops from the north adding to the numbers. It will be a slaughter.”

  Damn! Joshua had spent long hours trailing Snapes to discover the man was on his doorstep! Juliet was at risk. He raked his fingers through his hair. Every contingency unforeseen.

  “I’m packing up my family and heading out,” said Jacob. “There’s an extra horse in the barn.”

  Joshua rode through the woods, hightailing it down an old Indian trail, making it to Fort Stephens. Covered with mud and exhausted from his hard ride, he slid off his horse, and approached Colonel Elijah Cummings, taking stock of ammunition and rifle supplies.

  Joshua saluted. “Bad news. You are about to have several British visitors and their companions camp on your doorstep.”

  Cummings blew out his cheeks. “Thank you, Joshua. We have made fortifications in the past months expecting a visit of this nature and have received as of yesterday, a good supply of gunpowder by Colonel Mellen’s detachment, but our supply of lead remains low. We have fourteen pieces of artillery in the fort, although small and without the range or effectiveness of the artillery your intelligence indicates the enemy is bringing with them. Ours will not be able to reach them in their positions, but if the enemy tries to carry us by storm, they will receive great benefit of our cannon.”

  “With numerous miles and hours before dawn, I must travel the distance to warn the people of Blackberry Valley.” Joshua cinched the saddle tighter on his stallion and mounted.

  Colonel Cummings pivoted, his clear blue eyes, glacial now, focused on his men, and shouted out orders. “Man the parapets. Shoot only when a sure target is in sight. Nine shots per riflemen each day. Recover any enemy lead that is shot into this place and melt it down into new balls for us. By the grace of God, we are going to defend this place.”

  “Colonel Cummings, if you can send any men to Blackberry Valley—”

  The gates closed behind Joshua and a rousing cheer followed him down the road from men on the parapet. He spurred his horse, doubting that Cummings would have any men available to send to the valley. Two miles to the west, he jerked back on the reins. The horse reared, then settled on all fours. Joshua stood up on the stirrups, alerted to the spirited notes of bugles and fifes, and the stirring, cadenced rattling of marching drums, joined by the piercing squeal of bagpipes, and the unnerving cries of Indians. Joshua pushed his mount higher up the mountain, leaning low over the saddle to avoid tree limbs, finally breaking through thick undergrowth at the top.

  Below St. Leagear’s army marched toward Fort Stephens in precise ranks and files, the regulars clad in scarlet, Johnson’s Royals in green and the Germans in blue, with the early sunlight glittering off the swords and blackened gun barrels, and all the while, moving from cover to cover on each flank were war-painted Indians with tomahawks, knives, war clubs and muskets. Like maggots in rotten meat, the countryside crawled with men. Hope was all he possessed—yet that was an act of desperate defiance against monstrous odds.

  With probing gaze, Joshua swept a hand across his forehead to get rid of sweat and estimated the numbers. Only five hundred warriors, half as much from what the messenger had indicated. A stripe of fear ran up his back. Where were the rest? Damn! They had divided their offense.

  Blackberry Valley.

  His blood ran cold. He had to get to her.

  He had promised to protect Juliet.

  Waneek’s words haunted him. “What is duty compared to a woman’s love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms? Duty is what the Earth Mother Spirit has fashioned us for love. That is our greater glory.”

  Joshua hoped he wasn’t too late.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Elias’ stirrings roused her to awareness. Juliet pushed beneath the covers, wallowing in the delicious disinclination to move out of a womblike comfort. Thomas touched her shoulder. He’d done the night watch.

  Shots. A whole barrage of shots. She bolted from the bed. At the window, she stood paralyzed. Warriors charged from the marsh toward the Powers’ home their skins shining like flashing copper, their faces painted with grotesque streaks. Indians and red-coated British soldiers swarmed from every direction.

  A half-dozen of colonial soldiers on the Powers’ porch fell at the first firing and the others ran around in chaos like ants kicked from an anthill. Colonel Ichabod Allerton, still in his slippers and shirtsleeves ran from the home, pistol in his hand, his tunic flapping and heading north toward the fort. Lieutenant Johnson followed.

  Reigning tall in their midst stood Onontio. He pursued them across the field. A warrior threw a spear that penetrated the lieutenant’s back and he tumbled to the ground. Indians were upon him, knives plunged into his body and one held his scalp held high above his head.

  Cannons fired from the fort but were useless. The embrasur
es Joshua had suggested weren’t made. Several yards from the fort, Allerton turned to fire a shot. His final act of stupidity. If he hadn’t broken stride he would have made it. Onontio threw his tomahawk. End over end it twirled and into the colonel’s forehead. Due to the unfinished parapets, soldiers in the fort were unable to fire their guns due to the risk of exposing themselves. Onontio ran up to Allerton, jerked the tomahawk out of the colonel’s head and scalped him. Onontio tracked back to the town.

  Thomas pulled on her arm. Run! Move your feet now!

  Across the hall Juliet flew and shook Caroline awake, and then prodded the servant girl, Betsy to get dressed. Quilts were thrown back and bare feet thudded the floor. Jerked awake, the older children sobered with the cries in the valley and stared out the window.

  “Do not look,” Juliet whispered.

  Unaware of the ongoing massacre, the smaller children sleepily protested as they were urged into their boots and warm coats.

  Juliet stashed bread and a ham in a burlap bag, upending the Nine Men’s Morris game, lying unfinished from the night before. Suzanne cried out, cheated from her certain victory and started picking up the pieces.

  “No time for that Suzanne, put on your coat. Remember the drills we practiced?” ordered Juliet. She hooked the food bag and blankets on Thomas’ back.

  She checked out the window. Shots were fired from Powers’ upstairs parlor window, and afterwards stopped. Bethany, Charles and the four girls were pushed out of their home by warriors and British soldiers. The family knelt, forming a circle, their hands pressed in supplication to their deliverer. The girls were ripped from their mother and tied to a tree. Charles was tomahawked first, then Bethany. Juliet put her hands over her ears to shut out the girls’ screaming. Their parents and three domestics were hacked and stabbed, and scalped.