He turned in a circle, trying to figure out which direction she'd gone. It was barely mid-morning. If she had waited until dawn, which he assumed she would have, she couldn't have gotten far.
He walked the perimeter of the camp. It was easy to find her moccasin prints, even with new fallen snow. She'd gone west.
Why west?
Because she thought that was the direction of the fort, of course. "For the love of God, Leah," he muttered. "Why can't you trust me?" Tossing his rations bag over his shoulder, he followed her footprints westward.
It took Harrison less than an hour to catch up with her. The snow was deep, the forest dense, and the terrain rocky. Several times he found places in the snow where she'd floundered and fallen in a deep drift. When he caught a glimpse of her cloak in the trees, he called to her. "Leah!"
Instead of turning back, she walked faster.
Harrison walked faster. "Leah!"
She broke into a run. "God's teeth Leah! What do you think you're doing?"
"Leave me alone!" she shouted over her shoulder, crashing through the brush.
Harrison broke into a trot. He was trying to control his anger but it was damned senseless to waste the entire morning chasing her west when they needed to be heading north. North was where the boy was. North was where this Two Halves lived and they would have to hurry if they were going to make it before the first heavy snowfall.
"Leah!"
"Son of a bitch," she hollered.
"Leah!" He was catching up to her fast. "Leah, will you wait for God's sake! What's wrong with you?"
"Dead, aren't they? That's what you were coming back to tell me?" She tripped and went down on one knee but before he could catch a handful of her cloak, she bounded off, changing direction.
Harrison ran after her. "Leah, this is foolish."
"You think I'll just give up on him? Well, I won't! Not even for you, Harrison! I won't do it!"
"Leah!" He lunged to grab her shoulder. When he touched her, she spun around hurling herself against him. Harrison was so taken by surprise that he lost his footing on a patch of ice and slipped. Both of them went tumbling into the snow.
Harrison lost his temper with the first mouthful of cold, wet snow. "Leah!" He grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her onto her back and pinning her to the ground. She was fighting him just as hard as she could. To Harrison's surprise she was a damned sight stronger than he'd expected. It was all he could do to hold her down without hurting her.
She was covered with snow. Wet clumps clung to her hair that had come loose from its tie, and the fur of her rabbit cap. White frosty flakes even clung to her lashes. A bright circle of red burned on each cheek.
"Have you taken leave of your senses, woman?"
"Let go of me!" She gave one last effort to get up and then lay back in the snow, glaring at him. "Just let me go! You never cared about my son anyway. You just wanted me! Well, I don't need you. I don't need anyone. I'll find him on my own!"
She was almost hysterical. She wasn't making any sense. Then Harrison realized what this was all about. She was afraid. She was afraid he wasn't coming back for her. She was afraid her son was dead. She was afraid of being alone in the forest, not knowing for sure what to do or where to go.
"It's all right," he soothed, softening his voice. "I told you I'd come back for you and I did. I told you two days. I haven't been gone two days, Leah."
She started to struggle again.
"Leah, I know I left you once, but you forget, I was young too. I won't do it again. I swear to God I won't. I've learned my lesson. I know what you mean to me. No matter what happens I'll find a way for us to be together."
"Let me up! Let me go!"
"Leah, I told you I would see this through with you. We're partners you and I. We're going to do this together."
"Just let me up! I'll go to the fort! I'll find my son on my own. I'll find—"
"Leah, I may have found him."
"I—" She blinked. "What? You found him? Where . . . where is he? Where's my son?"
Harrison loosened his grip on her, releasing her hands, but he still straddled her, holding her down. "He's not here. Not at the fort. He was sold."
"Sold?" She brought her hand, covered by a snowy mitten to her face. "Sold? Oh, God." She looked up at him. "When? How long ago?"
He got off her and offered his hand, pulling her to a seated position. He knelt in the snow in front of her. "I don't know. But not long ago."
"Oh, Harrison, he's dead isn't he? He really is dead."
"No. No!" Harrison caught her wrists. "Listen to me, Leah. Look at me, and listen to me."
Slowly she lifted her gaze until it met his. The fear and pain in her clear blue eyes were so strong that Harrison's heart physically ached for her. It was not until this moment he realized just how strong this love for a child could be. Leah's love for her son William was so great that Harrison felt a twinge of jealousy. No matter how much she loved him, a part of her heart would always be this boy's.
"Leah," he said slowly. "If he survived long enough to make it to the fort, he's got to still be alive. They would have killed him right off if they hadn't wanted him."
"Sold? Why?"
"For a slave probably."
Leah bit down on her lower lip. He hands were shaking, but he could tell she had better grip on her emotions now. "Do . . . do you know where they took him?"
"Yes."
Leah reached out and grabbed Harrison, flinging her arms fiercely around him. "I'm sorry. I acted like a fool, an ungrateful, distrustful fool. Thank you." She hugged him. "Thank you."
For a moment, he just held her. He smoothed her cold wet hair, he kissed her cheek. But then he took her by the shoulders and drew her back so that he could look at her face. "Leah, we have to go now. The village he's probably at is further north. In case you haven't noticed, it's getting colder by the day. A big storm blows through here and we won't make it till spring."
Leah stood, using his shoulders for leverage. "No," she said determinedly. "He'll not spend the winter away from home. We'll find him."
"Then let's go." Harrison got to his feet and began beating the snow off her clothing. "We've still got most of the day's light. Let's see how far we can go if we push ourselves."
She pulled off her hat and beat it on her knee. "I'm ready." She pulled the fur cap over her head giving him a big smile. "I'm ready, partner."
Harrison turned, getting his bearings and pointed north. Leah fell into step behind him. They'd walked a good five minutes before she spoke.
"Harrison?"
He heard her sigh. "Leah?" But he knew what she was going to say, even before she opened her mouth.
"What of Edmund?"
"I didn't ask . . ."
William knelt at the stream and beat the ice with the bark bucket he carried. As he bashed a hole through the ice, he muttered beneath his breath. "Stinkin' redskins," he hissed. "Make me work like a negra slave!" He struck the ice again and again in anger. "Doesn't he know who I am? I'm Edmund William Beale. Master Beale, that's who I am. Master of Tanner's Gift."
The bucket finally broke through the ice and water bubbled up through the small hole. With the edge of the bucket, William made a larger hole as the Mohawk, Asare, had taught him.
"Well, I'm gonna show him, that Asare." William stuck out his lip. "I'm gonna run away. I'm gonna find my mama in New Jersey and I'm gonna bring the whole army back to kill the redskins!"
His bucket full, he got to his feet and tramped back through the snowy forest to the longhouses in the distance. "Going to kill you all," William whispered beneath his breath as he walked through the doorway into the communal longhouse where Asare and his wife and several other families lived.
Asare, who sat near the fire carving a stick of wood, spotted William and smiled. "You brought water," he said in his native tongue. "Good boy. Water, good boy," he repeated in English.
William dropped the bucket at the older man's feet, a frow
n on his face. "Hauling water, that's women work. Slave work. I'm no negra to be ordered about."
"In the language," Asare said gently. "You won't learn our tongue if you don't use it."
"I don't need to learn your language because I'm not staying. I told you, I'm going home to my mama."
Asare shook his head, trying to remain patient. The boy was extremely bright. He already understood much of the Mohawk tongue; Asare knew he did. When he wanted something, he could make himself be understood quite easily. The child was just being stubborn. "And I told you that if you leave here now, you will die in the snow."
William pushed at the corner of the hide mat Asare sat cross-legged on. "I don't care what you say," William answered, sulking. "I hate it here. I hate you and I want to go home."
Asare sighed. Despite the child's reluctance to become a part of Asare's family, Asare had grown fond of the boy. True he was spoiled by the white man's ways, but he was bright, and resourceful and Asare was lonely. Even a sulking boy was someone to talk to, someone to fish and hunt with. Besides, with time he would forget his white ways and become a member of the Seven Nations.
"Look, look what I make for you," Asare said, changing the subject. He held up the partially carved stick. "When it's complete, it will make a fine bow for a young hunter like yourself, Aeana."
William looked down at the carved handle of the bow Asare had crafted. It was a beautiful thing and William longed to reach out and touch the smooth design, but he didn't. "I don't need any stupid bow," he said and turned and walked away.
Asare glanced down at the bow that lay in his lap. It had taken him long days to carve the intricate designs. He ran a finger along the carving. "Time," he said softly to himself trying not to feel hurt. "The child just needs time."
Side by side Leah and Harrison trudged through the snow, west of the Hudson and north into the Catskill Mountains. Between the snow which grew deeper with each day, and the steep incline of the terrain, traveling was slow and arduous. A hundred times Leah thought she was too tired to go on, but then she thought of William.
William had marched through the snow, perhaps through the same mountain pass. If William had the courage to do it, then Leah did.
Two days from Fort DePounce Leah and Harrison came upon a cabin burned to the ground. Only the stone fireplace and chimney and a few blackened skeletal supports still stood. The small barn had been burned as well. Fences were knocked down. A half-butchered cow lay near a sapling apple tree staked by someone's loving hands.
A few feet from the front door Leah and Harrison found the dead body of a middle-aged woman. She lay face down on the snowy ground, her hands sprawled out, her clothing bunched around her waist. Her bare skin was so white it was blue.
A lump rose in Leah's throat and her eyes clouded with tears as Harrison squatted to examine the body. He pulled off his leather mitt, dropping it into the snow.
Tentatively, Leah reached out to push the woman's wool petticoat down to cover her bare buttocks and legs. "Who could have done this? Indians?" Leah whispered.
"Iroquois I would guess, being this far north."
"The man who took William?" The thought of William witnessing such carnage made her dizzy with fear for him.
"Perhaps." Harrison studied the dead woman for evidence of wounds. He touched her with a gentle respect that made Leah proud.
She squatted beside him, for once unashamed of her tears. She watched as Harrison lifted the folds of the dead woman's cloak to see several holes bludgeoned in her back. "Dear God in heaven, the poor woman."
"War club."
"I can't imagine such a brutal death."
Harrison got up. As he rose, he wiped his hand on his legging, as if he could wipe away the woman's pain he had felt when he touched her body. "She hasn't been here long. A day or two, no longer than a week."
"Why would someone do this?" Leah demanded angrily.
He shook his head, walking into the structure of the burned out cabin, kicking at the blackened rubble with one moccasin. "Hatred. Pure and simple hatred. Red men against the white, white against the red."
"But how could this woman have harmed anyone?" She gave a laugh that tightened in her throat until it was almost a sob. "She was just a farmer."
"Whoever it was took some things. I see no weapons." He picked up a lid that looked like it went on a teapot. When he shined it on the hem of his fur cloak, it came out silver. "But they were traveling, else they would have taken possessions of more value."
"You mean savages did this—they murdered—for the fun of it?"
"Not all red men are evil," Harrison said quietly. "Just as all white men are not inherently good."
Leah hugged herself for comfort as much as warmth. "Harrison, I meant no disrespect for your people."
He let the silver teapot lid fall from his hand. "I know you didn't." He stepped over the door sill and back into the snow. "The woman couldn't have been here alone. My guess is there's a male body, too. You go this way, I'll go that and we'll see what we can find." He stopped. "Unless you'd rather not."
She lifted a hand: "It's all right. I don't mind."
Leah and Harrison separated and walked all over the cleared yard searching for another body. Leah found several dead chickens, their necks wrung, and a small spotted dog lying in red snow with its belly slit end to end and its entrails hanging out. The sight of the pup might have made her wretch had she had anything in her stomach but a few dried berries.
Leah leaned against a tree for support, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She had half expected to find her son lying face down in the snow here on this lonely mountainside. She looked up to see Harrison coming toward her.
"Found him," he said, his voice tight.
"Where?"
"The barn. I'm assuming it's the husband. I didn't find much more than a blackened skeleton."
Leah closed her eyes, whispering a prayer. When she opened them, Harrison was headed back toward the cabin.
"Where are you going?" She stood where she was, calling after him.
"We can't bury the bodies. We could never dig into the frozen soil, but at least we can cover them to protect them from the wolves. I'll get the woman."
"I'll be there in a minute to help you," Leah offered.
He shook his head. "No. You rest. I'd rather do it myself."
Harrison walked across the snowy yard with long, determined strides. Clutched in his left hand he carried a small beaded medicine bag that he'd found in the barn. It was the bag he had once given to Kolheek . . .
Chapter Nineteen
The moment Asare saw his old friend Sky Light, he knew something was wrong. It was late afternoon and Asare had taken Aeana down to the stream to show him how to ice fish. The ice wasn't thick enough to walk out on as they would do in another moon, but they had still been able to catch two trout near the bank. For the first time Asare had heard the boy laugh and his laughter had made Asare's heart sing.
"Why do you come to me, old man?" Asare asked gruffly in Iroquois.
Sky Light looked at the white boy and then back at his friend. "I would speak to you alone, old man."
Asare pushed his coil of fishing line into Aeana's hand and showed him once more how to jiggle it.
"I know, I know," William said excitedly in Mohawk.
Asare got up slowly, pressing his hand to his back. With the coming of Father Winter his old bones seemed to become as brittle as skim ice. He tossed the boy's fur mittens onto his lap. "And put on your mitts before your hands freeze and fall off. A boy with no hands is no good to me. I would use a boy with no hands for fish bait."
William laughed at Asare's joke and reached for his mittens.
Asare smiled as he walked slowly toward the leafless locust tree Sky Light stood beneath waiting for him. It was hard for Asare to sit and watch the way of life he knew slowly disintegrate because of the white man and his influences. But having Aeana in his lodge made him think that perhaps the red and white
could live peaceably together. Just perhaps . . .
Looking at his friend, Asare held up one gloved hand. "Do not tell me bad news today, old man, because I'm in too good a mood to hear your doom and gloom."
"Well, hear it you will, old man. Someone has come for the white boy."
Asare looked up at Sky Light's face. He saw black hair streaked with gray poking from beneath his rabbit fur cap. He saw a lined, weathered face. He saw in Sky Light a reflection of himself and he wondered where the years had gone. It seemed as if only yesterday he and his friend had run naked through the village as toddlers chasing a pet raccoon. It seemed as if only yesterday he had married the young maid, Running Rabbit. Only yesterday he had been a proud father; only yesterday he had buried his last son, a victim of the warring between the red and white.
Asare looked down at his snow-covered moccasins. He felt tears stinging behind his eyelids and he was ashamed of how soft he had grown. "Whoever has come does not look for this boy. Aeana is not the boy they want."
"A boy of eight summers called Wil-liam. William Beale."
Asare changed tactics. "He's mine. I bought him from Two Halves."
"He is white and you are a fool. You are not his father, friend of mine."
"He would not have lived if it had not been for me. Two Halves would have thrown him over the cliffs or left him to die on the path when he was taken with fever. I held him in my arms like a new-born. I made broth and poured it into him. I carried him on my back when he was too weak to walk. His life is mine!"
"You knew he was the enemy's child."
"I do not have to give him back!" Asare shouted angrily.
"No, you do not. But are you willing to fight for him?" Sky Light inquired pointedly. "Are you willing to risk the lives of the men in this village for the sake of a skinny white child?"
"Any Mohawk in this village would fight at my side. I need only say the word!"
"Ae. Out of respect. But I repeat myself. Is this white child worth fighting for?"
Asare looked at the young boy he called his own. His Aeana was staring down at the hole in the ice as if he could will a fish to bite. The older man smiled to himself. He didn't care what color the child's skin was. He didn't hold the same prejudices his people held. He loved the boy called William.
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