He leapt to the ground, grabbed the mare’s reins to stop her, lifted Bethie out of the saddle. “Get behind those rocks!”
Bethie’s eyes were wide with terror, but she kept silent, did exactly as he asked.
Quickly, he tied the horses’ reins to a nearby tree and had just enough time to grab his rifle, drop to the ground, and aim when a bull charged toward him out of the trees, a spear protruding from its back.
Nicholas held his fire.
Crazed with fear and pain, the animal bellowed, veered to avoid the frightened horses, then disappeared into the forest behind them.
He heard Bethie’s sigh of relief, whispered to her fiercely. “Stay back there, Bethie. Don’t make a sound, and don’t come out until I tell you to!” Then he stood, took up position behind a gnarled oak near the place where the bull had broken through the underbrush.
And almost immediately he heard it—rapid footfalls, labored breathing. Someone was running toward them.
Every muscle in his body tensed, readied to make the most of a surprise attack. A vision of the slain mother flashed in his mind, her eyes staring sightless at the blue sky.
He would not let them hurt Bethie or little Belle.
Then shouting echoed through the trees. “It got away, you fool. Isn’t one enough to fill your belly?”
The language was Delaware. The voice came from a distance.
“I’m hungry, and this is my kill!” The man stood not more than twenty feet away.
Nicholas held his breath, hoping the bull’s crashing and bellowing had been enough to cover the whinnies of the startled horses and praying the baby would not make a sound.
“Forget it, and come back to the fire. They’ll have cooked and eaten all the meat by the time you catch up to that old animal. Besides, I don’t think you sank your spear very deep.”
“Listen, friend. When I sink my spear, I bury it all the way. Ask my wife.”
Both men laughed.
“Well, you chase it down if you want. Go chew on its old hide. I’m going back to the fire for juicier meat.”
Go back.Go back.Nicholas willed the warrior to heed his friend’s advice and give up the chase. The seconds ticked by, each as long as eternity, each weighing the difference between life and death.Go back.
“I’ll come with you, but I want the liver.” Then the Delaware warrior strode off, heading back through the trees, his voice growing distant as he argued with his friend over who would eat which organs.
Nicholas let out the breath he’d been holding, didn’t move until he was certain both men were far out of earshot. Then he strode silently over to Bethie, who sat behind the rocks, clutching Isabelle to her breast, a rock gripped tightly in her free hand. He knelt before her, pulled her into his arms, whispered. “It’s all right, Bethie. They’ve gone. But we need to hurry. Can you ride farther tonight?”
She nodded, looked at him questioningly. “Are they the same ones—”
“I think so. We need to get out of here.” He helped her to her feet, took her arm.
But she didn’t budge. “W-why didn’t you kill them?”
“If I had, the rest of the Delaware war party would know we’re here now, wouldn’t they? And they would come after us. Trust me, Bethie. We must go!”
They rode until Nicholas was certain Bethie could ride no more, headed for a site he knew ensured them protection from the Delaware. An ancient burial site made up of several mounds and surrounded by a heavy growth of trees, it was a place of loathing for most Indians, who believed dark spirits stalked among the mounds. The war party would not follow them there.
“Come, love.” Nicholas lifted Bethie from her saddle, steadied her until she found her footing. He laid out their bed of furs while she changed the baby. He had no sooner covered her with the bearskin than she was fast asleep.
Quickly, he tended the horses, rubbed them down, gave the mares each an extra ration of grain, picketed them at the edge of the glade where a little spring fed into a tiny stream. It had been a hard day’s work for the animals, and tomorrow would only bring more of the same.
But it wasn’t the horses that worried him. It was the Delaware. Though he had hinted at it, he hadn’t spelled out for Bethie what he feared lay ahead of them or why it was so necessary for them to move swiftly. The war parties were slaughtering every settler they encountered. But they weren’t taking any supplies. That meant only one thing—they were in a hurry. Why?
It was this question that filled Nicholas’s mind each day, kept him awake at night.
Then there was the recklessness with which they seemed to be traveling. They left clear tracks plain enough for a child to follow. And just this evening, two Delaware warriors had shouted to each other in what ought to have been dangerous territory. What had given them such confidence?
