Whispered Promise

by Colleen French

  "You keep calling him a brat."

  "He is a brat. He manipulates you. He speaks rudely to you and you cater to him."

  "He's a little boy."

  "A little boy who plays on the fact that his mother thinks he's a little boy." She walked faster and he ran to catch up. "He's so smart, he's outwitting you, Leah. He knows what the hell he's doing. He's driving a wedge between us. He's jealous of me and—"

  "He's afraid of you!"

  "Because I'm half Shawnee or because I'm his real father?"

  She ducked under a barren tree limb hanging over the path. "Both I would suspect."

  Harrison sank his fist into his palm angrily. "How is it that I'm becoming the villain here? You're the one who carried on this damned farce for nine years instead of coming to me and telling me you were pregnant."

  Leah stopped on the path, swinging around to face him. She pushed her hand into his chest. "You left me!"

  "Your father beat the hell out of me! He told me you were already engaged to Beale. He told me you had never intended to marry me because I was Shawnee."

  "And you listened to him," she spit. "You didn't love me enough to come to me and hear the words from my own mouth. Sonofabitch!" She slapped his chest with her hand. "You left me," she repeated softly.

  Harrison looked away and then back at Leah. "Leah, I love you more than anything on this earth. Just tell me what you want me to do. I can't change the past but I can make our future. I just need to know what you want of me."

  She started down the path again, concerned with where William had gotten to. "There isn't anything you can do. We just have to give William time and hope he can accept you."

  Harrison stood where he was, watching her walk away. "And if he can't?" His voice echoed in the skeletal treetops over head.

  Leah didn't answer. A moment later he was at her side. "And if he can't accept me?" He grabbed her arm, forcing her to look at him. "Leah?"

  "If he can't accept you then we can't be married. You can't come to Tanner's Gift."

  Harrison's black-eyed gaze bore into her. "You're kidding?"

  Leah forced herself to look at him. She could feel her heart tearing in two. "Harrison, this child is my responsibility. I can see by his behavior that I've not taken that seriously enough. It's my responsibility to see that he grows up to be a young man I would like to have at my dining table, a young man who can contribute to this new land we're fighting for."

  "And what of me? Where is your responsibility to me? That boy is my son, too, Leah. Remember?"

  "All I can tell you is that I can't live with the two of you bickering. If I have to sacrifice happiness for William's well being then that's what I have to do." When Harrison didn't reply, she looked up at him. He was staring at her with those same, angry heathen eyes he had looked at her with the first night she had appeared in the Shawnee camp.

  "Harrison . . . " She reached out to touch him, but he walked away.

  "Let's go," he called coldly over his shoulder. "We're wasting time and precious daylight. I want to reach the river by nightfall."

  William ran ahead of his mother and the Indian that was supposed to be his father. He chased the dog, Sam, who seemed to be running fine on his three good legs.

  "Atta boy, Sam," William called. "Sniff out the redskins and we'll string 'em up and torture them before we burn them at the stake." He slipped behind one tree and then the next, searching for the imaginary enemy.

  Sam barked and circled William and then raced down the path.

  "Wait a minute!" William shouted. "You're not supposed to run away!" He clapped his hands, but the sound was muffled by his fur mittens Running Rabbit had sewn for him. "Here boy! Here, Sam!" Somewhere in the distance behind him William thought he heard his mother's voice calling him, but Sam was gone and he knew he had to catch him.

  "Sam! Sam, where are you? Here boy," he called as he ran down the snowy, rutted road. "Come on boy!" He could hear the hound barking excitedly at something or someone.

  William turned the corner in the road and stopped short. The dog was circling four men on horseback, barking wildly.

  "Georgie," the tall man in the lead called to the dog. "How the hell did you get down here?"

  Sam barked louder, running in and out of the horse's feet.

  The man calling William's dog Georgie looked up and spotted William. William took a step back. He knew he should run from the strangers but he wanted his dog back. He crouched and slapped his calf. "Come on, Sam. Come back boy."

  The hound circled the horses and ran back toward William.

  "That your dog, boy?" the man on the horse asked.

  Sam licked William's face. "Is now," he answered cautiously. "Found him hurt."

  The man's forehead showing from beneath his rimmed hat wrinkled. "That right? Found him where?"

  William pointed behind him in the direction of the mountains. "Back that way."

  "At a cabin in the foothills?"

  "Seen no cabin." William scratched behind Sam's ear, but then the dog ran off again, headed straight for the horses.

  "My name's Mark Leamy. What's yours?"

  William rose, slapping his thigh. He tried to whistle to the dog. Sam was circling the horses again and barking. "William, William Beale. I'm from the Tidewater."

  "You out here all alone?"

  William shook his head. The stupid hound wouldn't come. He acted like he knew the man. William was suddenly nervous. He wished his mother and the Indian would come along. The Indian was carrying a loaded Brown Bess and a knife. "No. I got taken by Mohawks, me and my father. But my mother and a half-breed rescued me."

  The man who called himself Mark Leamy looked to the other men and back at William. "A half-breed you say? You know this man?"

  William shook his head. "He's my mother's . . . " He looked up. "Just some Shawnee Indian that was my mother's guide."

  The man's voice grew terse. He swung out of his saddle. "This man got a name?"

  William watched Sam. The dog had dropped down beside Mark Leamy's horse and was now tugging at the leather bandage William had just wrapped his leg with this morning.

  "No, Sam. Bad dog. Don't chew it." William took a step toward the men. "Yea, he's got a name."

  Mark Leamy picked Sam up in his arms. The dog wiggled but he didn't try to break free. "What's his name?" Leamy asked. "The Indian?"

  William watched the man with his dog. "Calls himself Harrison, Harrison DeNay, I think. He says he's half white but I don't know. Looks like a redskin to me."

  "Where is this man?"

  William looked at the man and pointed. "Can I have my dog back?"

  "Sure." Leamy smoothed Sam's head and the dog whined contentedly. "Just tell me where the red futtering bastard is."

  Before William could answer, he heard the sound of Harrison's voice.

  "William? William, slow down! William?"

  William looked back to the man holding his dog. "That's him coming."

  Mark Leamy dropped Sam and the dog gave a yip as he landed on his bad leg.

  William ran toward the dog. "It's all right." He whistled. "It's all right, Sam. Come to me old boy." He patted his thigh. "Come to Wills."

  When Harrison came around the bend in the road, he stopped short. There were four men, three of them on horseback, one on the ground. William stood among them with the dog.

  Harrison's quick assessment was that these men could be dangerous. They were dressed in buckskins and appeared to be trappers. They looked like they'd been riding hard.

  Harrison tightened his grip on his loaded Brown Bess wishing he'd brought a bow and arrow from the Mohawk camp. He could kill all four men with a bow and arrows if he had to. He only had one shot with the flintlock musket.

  He glanced over his shoulder, praying Leah wasn't too close behind him. He looked back to the men. "William, come here," he said cautiously. "Come to me now, son."

  "I don't have to do anything you say because you're not my father," Wi
lliam sneered.

  "Wills—"

  William hugged the tan hound, letting the animal lick his face. "Don't call me that. Only my friends call me Wills and you're not my friend."

  The man on foot wearing a beaver skin cap came around his horse, eyeing Harrison. Harrison could see hostility in his long face. Harrison knew he had to get the boy out of here and fast. He could detect the acrid taste of danger on the tip of his tongue.

  "William, come here now," Harrison repeated through clenched teeth. The little jackass was going to get himself killed.

  The man in the beaver hat came around his horse to stand beside William. "What's your name, injun?"

  Harrison didn't respond. He could hear Leah calling William's name behind them.

  "I told you his name," William said. "Harrison. He thinks he's going back to Tanner's Gift with us, only he's not."

  The man in the beaver hat looked at Harrison with piercing brown eyes. "That true? You the half-breed, Harrison?" As he spoke he casually dropped a hand to William's shoulder.

  Harrison understood the threat. "I am."

  The moment the words were out of his mouth one of the horsemen wheeled his mount around and came barreling toward Harrison.

  Harrison raised his Brown Bess, beading in on the horseman.

  "I wouldn't do that if I was you," hollered the man in the beaver hat. "You've got one shot. We've got four. At least one shot will take the boy, another you."

  Harrison looked up to see him holding tightly to William's arm. The dog had gotten loose and was running in circles barking at the stranger.

  Fearing for his son, Harrison lowered the Brown Bess.

  The horsemen sped past Harrison, at the same moment and Harrison saw him lower his rifle. He struck Harrison in the head with the barrel as he whirled by. Harrison felt the Brown Bess fly out of his hands as his knees hit the snow. His forehead bled, the blood running in his eyes. He blinked against the stinging in his eyes and the cloud of confusion from the blow to his head.

  What the hell was happening? Where the hell were Leah and the boy?

  The horsemen surrounded Harrison as he stumbled to his feet. He could hear the hound barking . . . then a yipe.

  Someone dropped a rope around his waist. Harrison clawed at the hemp but suddenly it jerked tight and knocked him off his feet.

  He could hear William calling to the dog, his voice growing fainter. Thank God the boy was getting away.

  Harrison wiped at the blood in his eyes, trying to focus. His cheek was buried in soft, wet snow. The rope jerked tight again and he felt himself slide through the snow. Some bastard was dragging him behind his horse!

  Harrison pulled his arms and legs in to his body as tightly as he could to protect himself. Still, he banged and bumped over every dimple in the snow. A blur of tree trunks and snow went by.

  "Here! We hang him here," he heard one of the men shout.

  Hang? They're going to hang me? Harrison felt his stomach go weak. Hang me for what? What in sweet Jesus' name was going on?

  The rope around his waist slackened and Harrison felt his body slide sideways off the snowy path. His chest struck a tree and he came to a halt with a grunt of pain, certain that crack was the sound of breaking ribs.

  "He ought to go to trial. We ought to carry him into town," another man protested. "This ain't right, Mark."

  "What ain't right is my brother and sister-in-law bein' dead because of this murderin' red bastard. That's what ain't right."

  Someone tightened the rope and suddenly two men appeared, jerking him upright. Through the veil of pain and blurred vision Harrison saw the man with the beaver hat throwing a rope up over an ash limb high above their heads.

  They were going to do it. They meant to hang him

  "What crime have I committed?" Harrison demanded.

  Someone struck him in the mouth.

  "What crime?" Harrison repeated. "I've done nothing."

  The man in the beaver hat, the one the others called Mark was making a noose. "Done nothing but sit down to breakfast with my brother and his wife only to get up and murder them. Sweet Jesus, you even stole their dog and gave it to the boy."

  "You're mistaken. You're looking for someone else. It couldn't have been me."

  "Get him on a horse. The sooner he's dead, the sooner I'll be able to breathe easier."

  "I said you're wrong. I've been up in the mountains. I have witnesses."

  They dragged him toward one of the horses.

  "Your name Harrison DeNay?" Mark shouted.

  "Yes."

  He came striding toward Harrison, his hatred plain on his face. "Then you're our man. My brother gave me your name himself—right before he died in my arms." He turned away before Harrison could answer. "String 'im up by the neck, boys, and let's go the hell home."

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Leah heard the men's voices before she rounded the bend in the road; some inner voice told her to approach cautiously. She walked off the snowy path and into the woods where the pines would conceal her presence. She could hear William's dog barking wildly and the crash of brush as someone came toward her.

  "Sam! Come boy, come," William shouted.

  "William?" Leah called softly. "William?"

  The dog burst through the sparse underbrush ahead of her. Behind the hound came William running as hard as his legs could carry him.

  Leah caught him by his cloak as he tried to pass her still chasing the dog. "William, what's going on?"

  His lower lip trembled. "I want my dog. They scared him. He might be hurt. They dropped him right on his bad leg."

  "Who? Where's Harrison?"

  He wiped his running nose with his sleeve. "I don't know."

  "You don't know who the men are or you don't know what's happened to Harrison?"

  He looked past her to where Sam was rounding a tree to cut back toward them. "Neither."

  Leah wanted to shake him. "William! Tell me what the hell is going on!"

  He sniffed. "These men on horses came. Sam acted like he knew one of them. The stranger called him Georgie. He picked up Sam and was going to keep him. He wanted to know the Indian's name. I told him." He looked at her guiltily, as if he'd done something wrong. "He was going to take my dog."

  Leah let go of William and went for the pistol she carried in the back waistband of her leggings. Before William could slip away, she grabbed his hand and dragged him behind her.

  "What have they done with him?"

  "I don't know. But they said something about him killing someone in a cabin. I think they think he did it. I ran away when they hit him."

  Leah swore beneath her breath. She could feel her heart pounding as she ran through the stark trees toward the male voices, dragging William alongside her. She could hear Harrison protesting, but she couldn't make out his words.

  The dog came running up behind them, yipping and snapping at Leah's heels. "Shht!" she hissed. "Quiet, dog!"

  "Quiet, Sam," William echoed.

  Staying off the road to prevent being seen, Leah rounded the bend in the road. They entered a small grove of pines they could hide in. When she peered out through the pine branches weighed down heavily with snow, what she saw made her physically ill.

  Four men had Harrison on a horse leading him straight for a noose that swung in the breeze from a stiff limb. All Leah could see of Harrison was his broad back as he sat ramrod straight on the mount and his long black hair falling over his shoulders.

  "Oh, God," Leah breathed. She spun around to William, knowing she might only have seconds to save Harrison's life. "The Brown Bess! Where is it, Wills? Harrison's rifle! Did they take it?"

  The sound of Leah's voice must have frightened the boy. Suddenly he seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. "No, no they knocked it out of his hands. It's still in the snow, I think. They must have forgotten about it in the tussle."

  She crouched, holding his shoulders. She tightened her grip until her knuckles went white. "Show
me where. I have to have the Brown Bess, Wills."

  "Ouch!" William shook his head. "I can get it better than you. They won't see me and even if they do, it won't matter. They already know I'm here. Besides, I'm just an eight-year-old. I can't hurt anyone."

  Before Leah could protest, William shot out of her arms. She reached for him with a cry of fear, but all she caught was the hem of his fur cloak and even that pulled from his hands. "Be careful!" she whispered.

  The dog ran after him.

  Leah watched with paralyzing fear as her son trotted to the edge of the road and then, looking at the men, darted out across the clearing. Beyond him, on the far side of the road, she could now make out the Brown Bess laying in the snow.

  The men had led the horse Harrison was astride to the noose. Harrison was tied at the waist, his arms pinned at his sides. From here she couldn't see his face. She clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. A lock of his crow-wing black hair fluttered in the breeze and she wondered if she would ever feel his hair beneath her fingertips again.

  William reached the Brown Bess, picked it up and then ran back toward Leah, the dog following at his heels.

  "Hey! What the hell is that kid doing?" one of the men shouted, spotting him.

  William dove into the cover of the pine trees. "Still loaded," he told his mother gleefully. "Never fired. Want me to shoot someone?"

  Leah grabbed the rifle from his hands. She knew she now only had seconds to react. She had two shots, one she could make from here, but she'd have to be closer with the pistol to be certain she hit her mark.

  Four men, two shots. Damn her luck. She couldn't out-shoot them. She'd just have to outsmart them.

  She grabbed William's hand and pressed her pistol into his palm. His hand seemed so small to her in comparison to the heavy oak handle. "You stay here, you and the dog, and when you hear the signal you pull the trigger, you understand me, Wills?"

  He wrinkled his nose. "What's the signal?"

  She kissed the top of head and walked away. "I don't know. You'll know it when you hear it." She stopped just before she pushed through the pine branches. "Something happens to me and Harrison, you stay on this path. It will take you straight to the Hudson River. Find someone and tell them who you are. Tell them George DeNay of the Tidewater will pay a great deal for your return. Tell them he's your grandfather."