Whispered Promise

by Colleen French

  William went down on his knees in the snow, wrapping his arms around the dog. "Oh, Sam. I knew you didn't run away! I knew it! Good, dog!"

  The hound licked William's face and the boy laughed rolling in the powdery snow. "Good, boy. Good three-legged dog!"

  "Wills, we have to get moving. I need to speak to Jeff Harris and see if he's willing to take us down river."

  William jumped up and ran. The dog dropped on his belly down on the ground near the broken ice and whined. The boy stopped and turned around. "Sam—" Then he looked at Harrison with amazement in his eyes. "She really has been here, hasn't she? Sam knows my mother's been here."

  Harrison watched the hound. He'd heard of such things before, but was still surprised. After all, the dog had been with them only a few days. How attached could he have gotten to Leah when it was the boy who cared for him? Just the same, it reinforced his guess that this was where Kolheek and Leah had gotten in a canoe, headed south.

  William went back to the dog and patted his head. "What a good boy. Thank you for showing us where they were, but you have to come with me Sam, else I've got to leave you behind." With a final pat on the dog's head, William walked away, falling into step beside his father.

  The hound whined.

  "You've got to come," William called over his shoulder. He patted his thigh. "Come on, Sam. Come on!"

  A minute later the dog went sailing by them, barking. William laughed, clapping his hands as he ran to catch up, headed in the direction of the tavern.

  Harrison walked faster. The morning hours were slipping away quickly. In no time it would be dark again. He had to catch Kolheek in the next twenty-four hours while his trail was still fresh. If too much time passed, or a snowstorm blew in, it might well be impossible to catch Kolheek. He was a clever man. And he was the man who had taught Harrison to track like a Shawnee . . .

  "I appreciate you taking us down river on your boat, Harrison told Jeff Harris from the port side of the flat bottomed vessel. It was a small boat, easily manned by two, propelled by oars on each side. Harrison pulled on the long oar, matching his stroke to Jeff's on the starboard side.

  Jeff gave a nod, the tail of his coonskin cap rising and falling. He wasn't a man of many words, but he was a good man. He had agreed to set out immediately in search of Leah, despite Harrison's warning of the dangers.

  Harrison's original idea was that perhaps he and the boy could take a canoe and go down the river themselves, but Jeff would hear nothing of it.

  Bo appeared from the low cabin built in the center of the river boat, a mug of steaming hot herb tea in each hand. She gave the first to Jeff and then crossed to Harrison. Her gait was steady despite the movement of the deck under her.

  "Sound asleep, the boy is. Him and the dog," she told Harrison proudly. Jeff released his oar, letting the current carry the boat. Harrison did the same.

  "You're a good woman, Bo. I don't know what we would have done without you."

  "Gotten down the river somehow, I'd suspect."

  "You didn't need to come. You should have stayed home where you were safe."

  "Safe, hah! What makes you think I ain't safe? I got that man of mine to protect me. He might look sweet as jam, but you put him in a tight spot and he can turn on ye in a second. You know I once saw him wrestle a bear to the ground with his bare hands, slit its throat, and carry it home for supper on his back." She winked at her husband and then turned back to Harrison. "Besides, bein' safe all the time makes you weak. Nothin' like an injun fight or a run with a redcoat to get your heart pumpin' proper."

  "I thought you said you weren't taking sides in this fight."

  Bo shrugged. "I ain't, but that don't mean I don't have my own personal feelin's on the matter."

  Jeff grinned, shaking his head at his wife's declarations as he went back to rowing.

  Harrison took another mouthful of the tea that warmed him to the tips of his moccasins and handed the cup back to Bo. He flexed his fingers inside his leather gloves and picked up his oar.

  They had been lucky enough to catch a swift current in the middle of the river. The disadvantage was that they were out in the open for every soldier, trapper, and renegade Indian on the cliffs of the Hudson to see them. Jeff and Harrison had discussed the matter and both had agreed that they would have to take their chances at being fired on, or even attacked by some river rats. If they were going to have to catch a birchbark canoe, speed of the flat bottomed boat was of the essence.

  The hours dragged on as they made their way down the Hudson. They rowed until Harrison's shoulders ached. They rowed until he thought his arms would fall off. Finally his upper body went numb, and still they rowed.

  Near noon they passed an English held fort built out over the water, its British flag blowing boldly. Red-coated soldiers could be seen in the watch towers. Some fool even took a shot at them, but the boat was a safe distance away. The lead ball fell aimlessly in the river.

  Late in the afternoon as the sky began to darken Harrison stood on the bow with William and the dog staring out over the murky winter water. He was beginning to get worried. He was hoping they would have caught up with Kolheek by now, or at least spotted him. With Kolheek paddling a canoe, near the shore as he knew Kolheek would, they should have been able to catch up rowing the flat bottom boat with the strong current in the middle of the river. It should have worked.

  . . . Unless of course Kolheek had gone ashore. . . . Unless it had all been coincidence, the signs in the snow, the dog's reaction on the bank of the river back near the tavern, and he hadn't gone down the river at all. . . . Unless Kolheek had killed Leah hours ago and thrown her overboard leaving her body to wash down the Hudson . . .

  Harrison dropped his hand onto William's shoulder. The boy had made no attempts to be friendly, but at least he was no longer openly hostile. He seemed to have taken to heart their agreement about being partners. He honestly seemed to care enough about his mother to put his selfishness aside for at least a short time. When he was acting like this, Harrison almost liked him. "Still no sign of them," Harrison said with a tired sigh. "I have to get back to rowing."

  Sam whined.

  "You need to keep him quiet," Harrison warned. "We're going to row through the night. We don't need to give ourselves away. You never know who could be on a river at night."

  William crouched beside the dog. "Hush, boy, else we'll throw you overboard and you'll have to swim for shore or be eaten by sharks."

  Harrison had to chuckle. "There aren't any sharks in the Hudson. It's fresh water. Sharks are in oceans and bays, son."

  Sam jumped up, wiggling his stubby tail and barking.

  William grabbed him by his rawhide collar. "Hush, dog!"

  Sam broke away and raced back and forth across the narrow deck, barking wildly.

  "What the hell?" Harrison squinted in the dying winter light. There was something about the dog's bark that caught his attention. The dog saw something he didn't see . . .

  Harrison gripped William's shoulder. "Jeff said he had an old spy glass from his shipping days. Run and get it," he said softly, staring out at the water." He gave the boy a gentle shove. "Hurry, Wills."

  William ran to fetch the spy glass and Harrison squatted on the boat's plank deck and grabbed Sam's collar. "Good dog," he soothed, petting the short, tan coat. "Shhh, enough barking. You've gotten my attention, now show me where they are, boy. I know you see them, but where?"

  Sam whined and licked Harrison's palm, raw and blistered from the rowing.

  "Where Sam? Where is my Redbird? I can't live without her, Sam. I can't do it. You have to help me out here, boy."

  The hound looked up with round brown eyes and then trotted to the far side of the deck and stared out at the water.

  Harrison frowned. All day long he had been watching the side of the river where Kolheek had entered it. It hadn't occurred to him that he would cross the open water in the canoe. "Son of a bitch," Harrison muttered.

  Willia
m came running up, the spyglass in its leather case in his hand. "Here it is! Do you see them? Do you see them out there?"

  "Shhh. Voices carry on the water," Harrison said softly. He pulled the spyglass from the case and raised it to his eye. Slowly he scanned the horizon to the left. Darkness was falling on them quickly.

  Nothing.

  He saw nothing but the line of naked trees on the far bank and the ripple of water. He made a second pass, moving more slowly this time. The river was wide here. The sun was setting in the western sky, its last orange rays struggling to shine though the bare trees.

  Then he saw it . . . just a twist of light at first. He steadied the spyglass. There it was again, nestled in the dark trees—a ray of golden light, a blur of red, then the outline of the white and black canoe.

  Harrison's breath caught in his chest and for a moment he could neither inhale nor exhale. It was Leah's hair that had caught the sunlight! The red was the cloak she was wearing, the one she had left the barn in last night. He couldn't see her face. Her body was still.

  Harrison shifted the eyeglass slightly. There was Kolheek on his knees, paddling. The canoe glided through the water so effortlessly that it seemed as if the man and vessel were part of the river. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

  Harrison lowered the spyglass. What was he thinking? Kolheek was the enemy. Whatever love he had once felt for the Shawnee was gone, lost in the violence of Kolheek's crimes. All that mattered now was getting her back safely and making sure that Kolheek never murdered again.

  Harrison took William by the shoulder and guided him toward the cabin. "I want you to take the dog and go inside. You stay inside, you understand me?"

  William looked up at his father. "But . . . but you said we were partners," he stammered. "I came to rescue my mother. I can shoot. Let me shoot the red bastard!"

  "Wills—"

  "You can't tell me what to do," William snapped angrily, jerking from Harrison's grasp. "Only my mother can tell me what to do and she isn't here!"

  Harrison didn't have time for the boy's foul temper. Too much was at stake. He grabbed William by the scruff of his cloak. "Do as I say, else I'll tie and gag you," he hissed.

  William glared at his father. "You wouldn't dare . . ."

  Harrison's eyes narrowed dangerously. He released the boy's cloak. "Try me, Wills . . ."

  The boy stood defiantly for a moment, then spun around, kicking a mooring line across the deck as he went.

  Harrison gave a sigh, crossing to Jeff and Bo. "I've spotted them," he said quietly.

  Bolene's eyes went wide. "Where for sweet Jesus' sake?"

  Harrison pointed. "I don't think they've spotted us yet."

  "It's going to be near impossible to surprise 'em," Jeff said, a wooden toothpick moving up and down between his lips as he spoke. "With this barge and the open water . . . "

  "We've got his ass. Where can he go?" Harrison challenged. "We cut east and we chase him down. With both of us rowing we can get close enough for me to shoot him out of the canoe and pull Leah out as clean and unharmed as new grass."

  Bo stared out over the water in Leah's direction. "That you can," she said softly. "Providin' he lets her live that long . . ."

  Leah dozed, slumped against the side of the canoe. The sound of the rushing water was strangely soothing. She was no longer cold, she hadn't been physically cold in hours. Kolheek had pulled into the shore at noon. He'd left her gagged and tied in the bottom of the wet birchbark canoe. An hour later he had returned with a woman's blue tick, shapeless gown and an old wool blanket . . . with blood on them still fresh and warm.

  Kolheek had made her stand there in front of him and strip off the wet nightgown. Leah had cursed him beneath the dirty gag. The smell of the woman's blood on the dress made her head swim and her stomach lurch. She had thought she was going to be sick. But Kolheek had pulled the knife from his belt and lifted the blade to her neck. The terms were simple. She would do as he said or die.

  For the briefest second Leah had considered just letting him kill her. If this man touched her, if he raped her, she wasn't sure she could live with herself. Not after what she'd shared with Harrison these last few weeks.

  But then she thought of William. He had survived against the odds. He had been strong enough to make the choice to live when Edmund had chosen death. Leah knew she owed it William to fight for her life. She owed it to Harrison . . .

  Leah woke slowly to the sound of Kolheek's paddle slicing through the water and the hum of his voice. He was singing some Indian song beneath his breath.

  Leah pretended she was still asleep. She knew he was staring at her with those heathen eyes as black and soulless as the eyes of Satan. He had rambled on for hours of how they would go west to live as man and wife, calling her Rain-Of-Spring. He told her he would teach her how to be a good Shawnee wife. He told her he wanted many sons to carry on his bloodline.

  The bloody blanket was heavy on Leah's lap. The thought of it made her skin crawl. When she'd asked Kolheek where the clothing had come from, he'd cuffed her, splitting her lip. Then he'd tried to wipe the blood away with a gentle touch. The man was insane. One minute he was so violent she feared he would kill her in his fit of rage. The next minute he was concerned for her comfort, speaking to her in a soft, soothing way.

  Listening to Kolheek, watching how he behaved made Leah think that once a upon a time he must have been a good man. Somehow there were still streaks of light on his dark soul. Harrison had said they had once been the best of friends. Kolheek had befriended Harrison when he'd come to the Shawnee village. Kolheek had taught Harrison what it was to be Shawnee. Where had that man gone, the one Harrison had cared for so deeply? And who was this madman who would have his revenge at any cost?

  Leah was jerked suddenly from her reverie by Kolheek's broad hand. She cried out with fear as he dragged her over the delicate birch bark bottom, the canoe rocking violently.

  "What is it?" she cried, her eyes flying open.

  He pushed her down, pinning her between his knees. He was paddling faster, the canoe tacking wildly as he fought to steady it.

  Then Leah saw it, a boat appearing out of the dim light, a ghostly hulk moving toward them. Harrison! She knew the figure on the bow, cradling a Brown Bess had to be Harrison.

  A bubble of joy rose in her throat. "Harrison!" she screamed. "I'm here!"

  "Silence!" Kolheek struck her with the end of the paddle and Leah fell back against his chest, dazed. A trickle of blood ran down her temple as she struggled to get control of herself. This was it. She had to remain calm and not do anything rash. Harrison was coming for her. Leah just had to keep Kolheek from killing her until Harrison could get here.

  "Let her go!" Harrison called across the water.

  "Mah-ta!" Kolheek shouted angrily. "Pull back or I will kill her. I killed the one I loved once, I can do it again, Harrison, you know this man can."

  There was silence for a moment. The boat was cutting through the water toward them.

  "Tell him you choose me!" Kolheek ordered, pushing Leah roughly. "Tell him the sleeping mat has turned. You choose me!" He dropped a hand possessively on her shoulder, murmuring in her ear. "Tell him . . ."

  Leah's instinct was to protest. Just the thought of acknowledging Kolheek made her want to vomit, but knew she had to let reason control her. Kolheek was crazy. He was crazy enough to kill her here in his arms.

  "What . . . what he says is true," Leah managed shakily. "Do . . . do you hear me? I choose this man above you, Harrison."

  Kolheek cackled. The boat was catching up to the canoe quickly, but Kolheek seemed to have lost his control and was paddling sporadically. His fingers brushed the nape of her neck.

  She looked up at him and he relaxed the hold he had on her with his knees. "I will make you happy, Rain. This man swears it."

  Leah forced the best smile she could muster. If she could get him into her confidence, maybe she could get away. "I know you'll try."


  He gripped the paddle and began to steer the canoe again.

  "But . . ." Leah said cautiously, considering the best way to get the boat close enough for Harrison to save her. "My son, can't we take my son with us?"

  He shook his head. "No."

  Leah looked up into his black, lifeless eyes. "But it would make me happy to have my son. Just let them get close enough to throw him into the canoe." She rested her hand on his thigh, praying that in his mixed up mind, she was convincing enough.

  He looked down at her. "It would make you care for me, to take the boy?"

  How pathetic he is, Leah thought. He wants to be loved so desperately. "Yes," she lied smoothly. "The Harrison would not have him. To allow the boy to come would make you a brave warrior in this woman's eyes."

  He broke into a grin and thrust out the flat side of the paddle to slow the canoe down. "The boy," he shouted toward the flat bottomed boat. "We take the boy, but any tricks," he released the paddle and pulled out his knife, "and I will send her to the Maker."

  "Leah!" Harrison called.

  She could see him clearly now. The boat was only twenty to thirty feet away from the canoe. Leah could see Bo and a man, her husband she assumed, at the oars. William was nowhere to be seen, but the dog, Sam, was running across the deck of the boat, barking. Leah knew that if the dog was there, William couldn't be far behind. "I want my son," Leah called, speaking carefully. "Do as he says, Harrison. I've made my choice. I take Kolheek."

  Their gazes met for the briefest moment.

  Please, Leah prayed, understand. This is our chance, love. This is our only chance.

  "Mama!" William called, appearing from behind the cabin built on the center of the deck of the flat-bottomed boat. "Mama!"

  The boat slowed.

  "It's too shallow so close to the shore," Harrison called. "You'll have to paddle into deeper water, Kolheek."

  "Mah-ta!" He shouted. "Throw the boy in and let him swim."

  "'No, " Leah nearly screamed. "No," she repeated softer. "It's too cold. He'll freeze to death."

  Kolheek stared at her. "A trick and you will die, my Rain-Of-Spring. Once you said I would not dare kill you, but I did."