Betsy held a child on each hip when she strode into the stream, a yelp of surprise at the cold. They moved over slippery rocks and, twice, Juliet leaned in to give support to Caroline and Betsy before they were swept away in the current. Elias sobbed and burrowed his face into the hollow of her neck. She ducked her chin on top of the little boy’s soft, blond curls and he peeked at her, his little mouth puckering, his big eyes watery with tears.
“Don’t worry. Aunt Juliet is going to find a safe place.”
For a half of a mile, they traveled downstream. Juliet pointed for Caroline to climb up on the rocks to the left and handed James and Elias off to Caroline. Joshua had trained her to walk on the rocks which would show no sign of their passing.
Juliet crossed to the opposite bank, creating numerous tracks to confuse the attackers in case they trailed them, and then retraced her steps. She held her breath, again wading through the freezing waters and returned to the group waiting for her.
“Keep going forward.” With a stick Juliet brushed leaves across their footsteps. Like frightened, uncertain sheep they shuffled through the forest. An awful stitch in her side turned to a burning numbness. Around enormous rocks covered with massive tree roots, they advanced. Nothing seemed familiar with the newly fallen snow. What if she couldn’t find the cave?
Georgie growled. A nighthawk brushed over their heads, the wind from its flapping wings fanning their hair. It swooped again, startling with its nearness, then plunged down the hill before settling on the iron-clad branches of a stark oak.
“Rarely does a nighthawk feed in the day,” whispered Caroline, panting short breaths.
Her contractions were coming more readily, and Juliet needed to get her to the cave before it was too late.
Animals assist us and act as potent spirit guides.
Two Eagles’ words were tattooed on Juliet’s brain and his imaginative story of animal helpers, aiding his escape from his foes. Maybe his story wasn’t whimsy. She scanned the terrain, scrutinized where the nighthawk settled. Waiting? Waiting for her? A sensation tingled over her skin in a wash of fevered heat.
Juliet tingled with awareness.“Follow me.” She made an abrupt turn down the mountain. Under fallen trees, they crawled, slipping and sliding on wet leaves down the steep slope and through tangled underbrush. She kept an eye on the unwavering nighthawk. An indescribable link resonated between them. The bird shifted. She lowered her gaze to a grapevine tent.
The cave.
She lifted a veil of vine and ushered Caroline, Betsy and the children inside. She glanced up to the looming oak to mouth a thank you to the animal spirit. The nighthawk had vanished.
Allowing their eyes to adjust to the dim light, they moved far into the recesses protected from the sleet and icy wind. Shivering, the children wailed, wishing to be home by the warmth of the hearth. Juliet took turns relieving the harried Caroline of her frightened brood, glad to have stocked the cave. Thomas found a dry spot, unrolled the blankets and put the exhausted children to sleep. Georgie curled up protectively beside them.
Juliet assisted Caroline, helping her to a blanket and covering her with the furs they had stored. The contractions came quicker and quicker. Juliet calmed Caroline, giving her a bite stick to suppress her cries.
“I’ve done this a hundred times, Caroline,” Juliet assured her and despite the horror in the valley, a baby fought its way into the world.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Three days and three nights passed. “I’m going back to see if they’ve gone.”
“What if they haven’t departed? You could lead the Indians back to us,” Caroline said, nursing her infant at her breast.
“There has been silence. I believe they have left. Your husband and Joshua might have returned and we must let them know we are alive. I’ll use another route to keep you and the children safe.”
“I’m coming too,” said Thomas.
Juliet let loose her hold on Mary and tousled Thomas’ blond hair and nodded.
With a rifle in her arms, Juliet moved deeper into the woods, moving through the bracken and entered the creek going north until she was opposite the town, and then moved eastward to where the woods gave way to a little marsh. Keeping concealed at all times, she climbed Blackberry Mountain where Joshua and she had made love on the last nights of summer. At the spot cloaked with moss, she touched her heart and felt Joshua near.
She slid down a ravine, briars and sticks poking into her. She rested, and idly observed a remaining leaf drop gently to the earth in a hushed whisper immune to the chaos. The ground lay a ghostly white beneath the straight shaggy hickory trunks, covered with nuts, freed from their shells that the squirrels hadn’t taken. With Thomas beside her, they climbed the other side. She understood his vested interest was Grace and couldn’t bear to tell him the servant girl’s body was one of the charred remains.
The sun was at its zenith, yet remained hidden behind a heavy mantle of leaden clouds. The day remained blustery cold, when she came to the crest of the town. She tugged her shawl around her to ward off the endless dismal sleet. What was left of Blackberry Valley lay in smoldering ruins. Almost every building was gone except the stockade walls of the fort.
Was the town safe? Had the British soldiers and warriors departed? Gunfire from the fort was infrequent and sporadic. Had anyone made it to the outlying fort or communities for help or were they destroyed as well?
Juliet inched closer, keeping hidden in the bushes just in case any Indians or redcoats remained. She thought she saw Crims and his beloved horse had been thrown on burning timbers that still smoked. Their scorched bodies drew up in the characteristically pugilistic attitude of death by fire. Juliet put her fist in her mouth to stop a sob, saying a prayer for the grizzled old widower who was now with his wife.
Colonel Allerton’s body had been dragged away from the fort, stripped of his clothes, scalped and dismembered.
At the Powers’ home, she counted seven bodies. Two domestics and Charles and Bethany lay near what had been their front porch. Under a tree, their daughters, Charity, Chastity, Comfort and Cornelia had been brutally scalped and mutilated and no doubt raped.
Dozens of bodies lay scattered. Many must have been taken prisoner unless they made it to the fort or escaped. She prayed for the latter and that help would arrive to free them of their bondage.
