Juliet tossed her bundle on her back and hiked up her skirts. The icy water took her breath away and soaked through her boots.
She held out her hand to Mary, the cold numbing her feet. For a mile, they scrambled on slippery rocks. Mary’s teeth chattered, and Juliet worried over her friend’s well-being.
On a steep embankment, Juliet climbed up on rocks, turned around and hauled Mary up beside her. They rubbed the circulation back in their legs. No way could they rest, not here in the open and not with the Indians tracking them. She stumbled onto an animal path and disappeared beneath the hulking branches of hemlock.
They traveled north. At least, Juliet, believed they were heading in that direction, as they ambled into an open meadow looking for the North Star to guide them.
“I’m so cold,” Mary coughed. “Couldn’t we light a little fire?”
“It would be so easy yet we dare not. You saw what happened to Orpha. If they observe the glow from our fire, they will find us.”
Sleet bit at their faces and the girls huddled beneath an outcropping of rock, shivering, their feet wooden from traveling through the creek. Juliet pulled her coat tight around her, stepped away and scanned the horizon. She cocked her head to the side and perceived no sound except the click of sleet on branches. No thud of foot or sway of branch. Even the animals had hunkered in their dens.
Surely the Indians would have discovered them by now? Perhaps content with their prizes from the Hayes’ farm and conceivably settled before warm fires in their lodges. A wind rattled through the bare trees, a portent in a world of ice and darkness.
Mary coughed behind her. The unending cold, the enemy.
Juliet returned to Mary and unsheathed the long knife from her waistband and cut pieces of beef and bread. She insisted they put on dry socks. Not much good that would do since their boots were soaked. Mary slumped on her shoulder and Juliet eased her friend to the ground and lay beside her, her muscles stiff from the cold.
* * *
“Juliet!”
Mary clawed Juliet’s arm as an Indian dragged her across the snow by her long golden hair.
Gripped with terror, Juliet shot from deep sleep to wakefulness, throwing her body across her friend. The warrior’s eyes, veiled pools of sinister black revealed the monster that lurked beneath. Never before had she witnessed a more frightening figure. This was the leader who had hacked Master Hayes to death, raped Orpha, and scalped the cook. Like a bizarre raccoon, his head and face congealed with red-blood paint, and a black mask daubed around his eyes with detailed black lines descending across his cheeks. A black line of lightning brushed across his forehead. Secured to his tuft of hair dangled a lone eagle feather.
She would fight him. Juliet sprang. She scratched, digging her nails into his neck, his ears, anywhere she could reach. She kicked with her booted foot against the savage’s shins.
Her head jerked back. She felt a tearing pain. He had ahold of her long braid. Her hand tightened on the hilt of her knife. On a low, throaty scream she yanked it loose and slashed the Indian’s face. His hand swept up to the gash she made, his blood now dripping on her.
He reared, dropping her suddenly to the ground, and leapt away as if touching her had reduced his strength. He pointed to her hair. Was it fear she now saw in his eyes? Did it have something to do with the color of her hair?
The painted warriors launched into a discussion with each other, gesticulating wildly and espousing deep guttural tones directed at her hair. Unbidden, a flock of crows lifted from their roosts, circling and cawing, adding their voices to a howl of sudden wind. Owls hooted. She couldn’t see the creatures but the savages pricked their ears to the sound, scanning the heavens, their harshly whispered words hanging in the air like little frozen clouds.
“What are they going to do with us?” cried Mary, scooting from beneath her.
“Quiet.” Juliet placed her arm protectively round Mary’s shoulder and stared at the number of scalps looped on their belts—proud trophies. Sick fear coiled in the pit of her stomach. Black hair with a white tip at the crown congealed with blood. Master Hayes.
The leader with the red and black stripes painted on his face, returned his gaze to her and gestured roughly. Juliet held back a scream, rose to her full height and craned her head back looking at this mountain of a man and his crazed, inhuman eyes.Do not show weakness.
From his side, one of his warriors, spoke harshly, “Onontio.”
Onontio.Joshua had warned her of the War Chief, his posture stiff as an arrow, his downturned lips, spoke of cruelty.
Knees shaking, she stood on stiff legs while they argued. A tattooed warrior with many nose rings wanted them dead, she surmised. Onontio pushed him to the ground, glanced at her and grunted.
A warrior with a string of bear claws around his neck and a red jacket fondled and blew upon Mary’s golden locks. He shouted in angry tones to others of the group who dared to come near. Had he claimed ownership of Mary?
“Joggo!” The gorget of silver on his neck and wide bands made of the same material around his upper arms vibrated with his command.
Juliet interpreted “joggo” to follow. She stumbled on her skirts and reached a hand down to pull Mary up. The tattooed warrior on the ground stood up and tied their hands, angry with the menial task. He jerked their leashes, yanking Juliet and Mary forward, following Onontio.
Half of the group preceded them and the remainder tracked behind. The Indians had one idea in mind. Speed. They rushed the two of them forward, ever forward.
Were they being followed? Did they desire to put as many miles as possible between them and Master Hayes’ home? Might a handful of staunch neighbors follow to avenge the massacre? Fueled with the hope, she dragged her feet often to slow their progress.
Onontio ordered a short and stocky Indian with bowed legs and gripping a hickory sapling in his hand to walk behind them. When Juliet lagged for a moment to catch her breath, Bow-Legs lashed the whip around her legs. The Indians farther to the rear picked up grass and weeds broken down by their feet to blot out signs of their passing.
