The Stranger: Chapter 2
by Rose Baker
Rebecca was getting supper ready. Israel and Jemima had caught so many fish, she hadn't known what to do with them all. As she was cleaning the fish, she had had a thought. Maybe she should invite Mingo to supper. A sharp twinge of regret had hit her when she remembered that would never happen again. She was so used to having the tall Indian around.
It had been three months since Mingo had died. At times it felt like a year, and at other times, like only yesterday. Dear Mingo, he had always helped out whenever possible -- especially when it came to eating her cooking. She smiled sadly at the thought. Mingo had always had such a good appetite. Rebecca had always suspected that it was not only the food, but the company as well that had drawn him back to their cabin. Even though he had called himself a Cherokee, as time had passed, Mingo had spent more and more of his life with them. It was as if they had become his family as much as, if not more than his tribe.
It went the other way as well. Mingo had become a part of their family. His death had left a huge, gaping hole in their lives. Still, slowly, gradually, life had begun to get back to normal.
Dan and Jericho were leaving on a mission this evening, so she was busy, not only with cooking for the family, but also with filling Dan's pack with supplies. The British were advancing through Kentucky, and Dan had orders to sabotage the bridge near the settlement of Limestone. The bridge was the only river crossing for twenty miles in either direction. The mission only required Dan and Jericho. The powder was to have already been delivered to a prearranged hiding place by a local man. All the two of them had to handle was to set the powder in place, blow up the bridge and get out.
Dan was very determined to carry out this task. Others could have gone, others who did not have a wife and children to think of, but Dan would not hear of it. His resolve against, and hatred for the British had only intensified since Mingo's death. Still, if anyone suggested Mingo's loss as a cause for this newfound fanaticism, Dan would vehemently deny it. But Rebecca knew. She knew his need was deep, and he was willing to take unnecessary risks because of it.
Rebecca heard a noise on the porch and turned toward the door. She dreaded facing Dan. She so wished he wouldn't go, and yet knew that nothing she could say would change his mind. The door opened and her tall husband entered, stooping slightly to clear the lintel. Jericho followed close behind him.
"Becky, we'll be settin' off now. My pack ready?" Dan asked.
She attempted to keep a brave face in front of her husband. "Yes, the pack's ready, Dan. But don't you want to wait for Israel and Jemima, so you can say goodbye?"
Dan wore a resigned expression. He shook his head. Looking at her, he answered, "I already said goodbye to them at the fort. There's no need to wait. We must leave now." The tall frontiersman turned and looked at Jericho. The young man got the hint.
"Goodbye, Mrs. Boone. I promise to look after Dan'l for you," Jericho said with a grin as he quickly exited through the cabin door.
Dan turned to Rebecca. "I'm sorry. You know I have to do this. We won't be any longer than we have to be."
Worried that she would start to cry Rebecca said quickly, "Just take care, Dan."
He bent to kiss her and, after holding her a moment longer, silently picked up his pack and rifle and left the cabin.
The going had proven easy on their journey. The weather had been fine and they enjoyed the freedom of the traveling by canoe. As they came closer to Limestone, they grew more watchful. Dan knew that the British might have scouts out looking for saboteurs, as the bridge was an obvious target.
Only a few miles out from Limestone the valley grew wide and fertile, with gentle sloping hills rising up on either side. There was the occasional cabin, in the distance, but otherwise the area was fairly unpopulated. The river ran a slow, meandering course through the valley. Even though the river was almost back to normal, as a result of the heavy rains, it had to course around several small mud flats. Up-turned trees, still partially submerged, could be seen along its banks. A flock of water birds waded in the shallows. By the time Dan and Jericho stopped, the sun was setting, casting long shadows and a dull golden light across the water's surface.
Dan looked at it, thinking how different the river looked now -- peaceful -- compared to when he had last seen it. He thought of Mingo and hoped his dignified friend's soul was at peace.
Then his keen eyes noticed something caught in the branches of one of the trees. Dan pointed to the branch, and both he and Jericho paddled over to check on what he had seen. Caught in the twisted branches, was a buckskin jacket. It hung high above the water level and was stiff and hard, caked with a layer of dried mud, suggesting it had been there sometime. Dan pried it off the branch and looked at it.
The markings were all too familiar.
"That looks like Mingo's jacket," Jericho said.
Dan nodded in agreement. His eyes searched the area around the branch for hair or bleached bones. In a way he did not want to find his friend -- not after all this time -- but if Mingo's remains were here, he wanted to give them a decent grave.
"We need to have a look 'round." Dan said, squinting his eyes and concentrating.
"Dan'l, we don't have the time."
"Well, Jericho, we certainly won't have the time after the bridge is blown. So I guess we'll have to do it now."
"How 'bout we ask at some of the farms close by? Maybe they found Mingo's body and buried him," Jericho replied, his forehead creasing with concern.
"That's an idea. But, we'll have to be careful, in case some of them are loyalists. Come on, we'll try at that cabin first," Dan said, pointing to one over the nearest riverbank.
"But Dan'l, it's nearly dark. Can't it wait till mornin'? We got to make camp anyway. If we go knockin' on people's doors at this time of night, they're likely to greet us with a rifle."
"Reckon, you're right Jericho," Dan answered as he carefully folded Mingo's jacket and placed it in the canoe. "We'll rest tonight, and then check with a couple of the cabins first thing in the mornin'."
The two men paddled to a secluded section of the riverbank and set up camp. Having no desire to show their position with a fire, they shared a cold supper. Later, wrapped in a blanket to ward off the chill, Dan took first watch. As he settled his tall frame against the trunk of a fallen tree, he stared at the river and solemnly pondered the loss of his closest friend.
Nearby, in one of the cabins, a fire shone brightly in the fireplace. Charlotte was busy darning some socks and listening to her son and daughter plead for another story. William, as she thought of the stranger now, held his hands up in mock surrender.
"Israel and Mary, I will become completely hoarse if I read you yet another story. Besides, I am certain it is way past your bed time."
"Oh please, Cousin William, just one more," pleaded the children in unison.
Admitting defeat, William began to read yet another fairy tale. Totally enthralled, the two children nestled by the fire and listened to his deep voice.
Charlotte leaned back from her work and gazed at the scene. The little group looked so content. Israel and Mary were in their nightclothes. Curled up together, they sat on the hearthrug. There was a quilt wrapped about their shoulders in order to keep them warm. William sat on the low settle by the fire, with a blanket thrown across his long legs, his stockinged feet poking out slightly. He stole a glance at her and smiled, as he continued to read. Israel's eyes were beginning to close, and Mary's head was slowly dropping down.
They would soon be fast asleep.
Charlotte thought about how much their lives had changed since this stranger, who had once unbelievably looked like an Indian, had entered their lives. Nobody could have guessed that this was the bedraggled creature she had dragged from the flooded river. He had quickly recovered his physical strength, but -- luckily for her -- not his memory. There had been no problem convincing everyone, including the stranger himself, that he was Nathan's cousin, William, and belonged with them.
The stranger, as he recovered, had started helping on the farm. He seemed to have little knowledge of the work involved. She thought that odd, but as she had convinced him that he had been a book-keeper in London, his lack of knowledge only served to reinforce her deception. Luckily, the stranger learned quickly. In short time he had repaired the fencing, and brought her small farm back in shape. And most importantly for Charlotte, he had filled the huge pit of loneliness left by Nathan's death. She had become very fond of him, with his gentle manner and dignity. So fond, that the continued deception troubled her. She wanted to tell him the truth, but as each day passed, it became more and more difficult.
If not impossible.
Not long after the first light of day, Dan and Jericho carefully hid their canoe and continued their journey on foot. They packed up their small camp and made their way up the path, heading toward a slightly ramshackle cabin. A multitude of laundry hung, drying on lines strung under the porch roof. The sound of a passel of children screaming and shouting filled the air. Dan and Jericho ducked under the wet clothes and headed for the door. Before they had a chance to knock, a rather stout women appeared in the door.
She held a broom protectively in front of her portly frame. "What can I do for you?" she asked abruptly.
"Ma'am, we were wondering if you wouldn't mind helping us? We're looking for a friend of ours. He may have been washed down the river."
"He most likely drowned," Jericho added.
Dan glanced at him and then continued, "We were wonderin' if you had buried anyone that was found in the river. Would have been 'bout three months back, when the river was in flood."
The woman looked up at him, her face softening. "Well, since you ask, we did see some bodies floating downstream in the last flood." At Dan's intense look she quickly added, "But, the river was going way too fast for us to catch 'em. We had to let them go on by."
"We quite understand," he said. "But if you saw the bodies, you might know.... This particular friend was an Indian."
The stout women had already started shaking her head. "We didn't see no heathen savages. No, these poor men were white and soldiers, God rest their souls. Likes I says, the river was way too fast and dangerous."
Dan looked disappointed. "Sorry to trouble you, Ma'am. We were just checkin' on the off chance."
Dan and Jericho turned to leave. As they stepped off the porch, the woman called after them. "You might want to try our neighbors, the Brownings. They're down the road a ways. Them and theirs might have seen something."
A short distance up the road, in the young settlement of Limestone, the stranger walked into the general store, which also served as the tavern. Whenever he entered for some reason he expected heads -- and people -- to turn and look at him, but they hardly ever did. Oh, the first few times he had come in to town they had, just out of curiosity, but now, no one paid attention.
Still, it felt as if he did not belong.
His thoughts were interrupted by a greeting from the store-keep, Joseph.
"Howdy, William. You and the family keeping well?"
"Yes, thank you, Joseph, we are very well. And yourself?" the stranger replied.
Joseph rolled his eyes. "Apart from them thar nosey Redcoat soldiers what are in town, couldn't be better. Now what will you be wanting?"
At the mention of the Redcoats, the stranger felt a slight quickening of his heartbeat and a sensation of apprehension. As he tried to shake it, a dreadful thought crossed his mind. What if he was wanted for some crime? Perhaps that was why he had really left England. He considered asking Charlotte later, but decided not to. He did not want to alarm her. Still, he wondered.
"William?"
The stranger's head turned toward the store-keep. "I am sorry, Joseph. What did you say? Oh, what was it I wanted?" The stranger handed over a list of the desired goods from Charlotte. The tall dark-haired man waited as Joseph gathered the various items and then went to get his lad to load them into Charlotte's cart. A few of the other settlers nodded their greetings and inquired after her and the children. The stranger decided to sit down and have an ale, and quietly wait. As he did, one of the settlers started chatting with him about some trouble he was having with his cows.
Their discussion was rudely interrupted as a British officer and his two aides noisily entered the store and swaggered up to the counter. One of them slammed his first down hard as he yelled loudly, "Shop!"
Joseph scurried in from the back room. The store-keep was not a tall man. At the sight of the soldiers, he seemed to shrink even more.
"Yes, gents, what can I get for you?" Joseph asked.
The officer in charge demanded, "Rum, and quick about it!"
As Joseph poured the rum, the stranger stared at the backs of the soldiers. He felt he wanted to leave, as quickly as possible, but didn't know why. Then, another terrible thought dawned on him. Perhaps he was a deserter. That thought made him want to flee even more. Still, he knew he had to wait for Charlotte's order to be filled or else it would arouse the soldier's suspicions. William glanced around and saw that the other settlers were slowly, but surely, leaving the tavern. Even his friend with the cows had risen and bid him farewell. Nobody in the small settlement of Limestone wanted to get involved with the British or the war. They just wanted to tend their farms and be left alone to make a living. The war made life so difficult for everyone.
Soon, the stranger was the only one left. Joseph came over to him. "Your order's ready, William. Do you want that on your tab, or do you care to set
tle with me now?" The stranger's eyes flicked to the British soldiers now seated nearby. He rubbed his knees with his fingers, nervously. "Joseph, if you could put it on our account, I would certainly appreciate it. Charlotte asked me to fix the roof, so I really need to go. You know Charlotte...I would not want to be late." The last he added as lightheartedly as he could.
Joseph laughed. He bid him farewell and turned to leave. As he passed their table, the British officer rose to his feet and blocked his way.
"I say, you seem to have an English accent, friend. Where are you from?"
The stranger could tell that the officer was slightly drunk."I am from London," he answered. "Now if you will excuse me, I must be on my way."
"Not so fast." The officer stopped him with a hand on his arm. "You look familiar. What part of London are you from?"
The stranger racked his brain. He tried to think of a place. He blurted out the first name that came to his mind. "Oxford," he said.
"Oxford. That's nowhere near London," one of the other soldiers commented.
The stranger grew apprehensive. "I've spent time in both places. Please, I am expected at home," he said.
"The wife got you under the thumb, my good man?" the officer laughed.
For the others' benefit, the stranger laughed as well. He walked quickly to the door before the soldiers had a chance to change their minds, and exited as quickly as he could.
After the door had closed behind him, he stood outside the tavern for a moment, wondering.
Oxford? Why had he said, 'Oxford?'
As the stranger drove the cart filled with supplies home, he wondered about the incongruous fragments that had begun to come back to him. He could recall some places. He thought they must be somewhere in England. It was a picturesque countryside; emerald-green with narrow lanes and hedgerows. He could recall a vast, bustling city with dirty streets and alleyways. Children begging. And tall houses, imposing buildings, and grand ballrooms.
But he also had other memories. Memories he could not understand considering what Charlotte had told him of his earlier life. He remembered the rough interior of a building made of animal hides and branches. Also copper-skinned women cooking and hunting. The stranger could also remember a beautiful woman, dressed in buckskins and beads, singing to him. He felt he should know her.
Once, he had questioned Charlotte about these memories. She had told him he must have read stories about Indians or seen illustrations in a book. She had even pulled out one of her own books with etchings of these very things.
This had left the stranger even more confused.
He was sure these memories were real.
Dan and Jericho approached a tidy cabin. It was not far from the road that led into Limestone. There were a good many fresh shingles covering the roof. The zigzag fencing had recently been repaired; there were new rails and the odd replaced fence post. Before they reached the cabin, its door was opened by a tall, pretty women with brown hair. She was drying her hands on her apron. From the disappointed expression on her face, she had obviously expected someone else.
Dan spoke up first. "Good mornin', Ma'am. We wondered if you could help us. We are lookin' for a missin' friend."
The woman smiled tentatively. "Surely. But we don't get many strangers around here."
"Then you'd remember this one. This friend of ours is quite distinctive. Was quite distinctive." Dan's voice fell. "Unfortunately, we believe that he is dead. Your neighbor up the road a ways, suggested we try here. A couple of months back, you may have seen some dead bodies floatin' down the river during the flood?"
"Yes, the poor men." the woman answered, her tone sad and quiet.
"We found our friend's buckskin jacket just downstream a fraction from here. So we thought you might have seen him, or that maybe your husband might have buried him." Dan paused and then added, "Our friend was a Cherokee Indian."
The woman's hand went to her throat. "An Indian? Here?" "It's all right, Ma'am. Mingo was our friend. He was a good man. Our family sorely misses him." Dan hesitated. "We wanted to make sure he had a decent burial."
"I'm very sorry. I haven't seen your friend," the woman replied. "Now I have to go. I have chores to do."
Dan looked at her. "Perhaps your husband saw him, but didn't want to alarm you. Is he home? Maybe we could talk to him."
The woman hesitated for just a moment. "William has gone to the fort, to get some supplies," she said. "I'm not sure when he will be home. Probably late. Excuse me, but I really must go."
Dan nodded and bid her farewell. As he and Jericho turned to leave, two children -- a girl of about ten and a boy near seven years of age -- came running up the path.
"Ma! Ma, Israel stole my good hair ribbon!" the girl cried.
"No, I didn't. It just fell out all by itself!" the boy with brown hair answered.
The two children stopped as they noticed the strange men.
Dan bent down so he was on eye-level with them. "Mornin'," he said. "I have a little boy called Israel." Then he turned to the girl. "And what's your name?"
"My name is Mary," she answered. It was obvious from her looks that she was the woman's daughter.
"That's a pretty name, Mary. I have a daughter as well, but her name is Jemima."
Dan stood up then and turned to the women on the cabin porch. She was standing very still, watching them warily. She beckoned to the children. "Come inside now. You're late for your lessons. Quick now, don't dawdle!"
The boy and the girl grumbled their way through the cabin door as the woman turned to them and said firmly, "Goodbye."
Then she closed the cabin door.
The two men walked a little way down the path before saying anything. After a minute or two, Dan glanced sideways at Jericho and said, "She seemed mighty nervous. Think she was hidin' somethin'?"
Jericho shook his head. "No. Dan, you saw her face when you said he word 'Indian'. She's scared of Indians, that all."
Dan shook his head and pursed his lips. Then he said, "I'm not so sure, Jericho. If we have time, I think we should call back when her husband is home. But now we better get to the hiding spot and meet this man, 'Joseph'. He knows where the powder is kept, and he's also keeping an eye out on the Redcoats."
A little while later Dan and Jericho rounded a gentle bend in the road to find a huge, old oak tree towering over the entire area. A slight wind made a soft rustling noise in its leaves. Very little sunlight penetrated the dense, dark green foliage, making this section of road mysterious and secluded. As Dan and Jericho approached they heard someone call out, "Nice day for a stroll. You fella's seen any red fish lately?"
"Yes, but none are biting yet," Dan replied, using the prearranged words. From the shadows of the great tree a small, middle-aged man emerged. His hair was gray and thinning at the crown, which gave him the look of one of those English monks Mingo had told him about. As he approached them, the man wiped his sweating palms on his pants before offering to shake their hands.
"Howdy, I'm Joseph," he said. "And you must be Dan'l Boone."
Dan nodded his head. "Yep, and this is my friend Jericho. Now what can you tell us? Has the powder arrived?"
Joseph nodded and led them around the tree, out of sight of the road. Then he said quietly, "Yes, sir, we got us eight barrels. They're stored in a disused lean-to right near the bridge. It's nearly hidden 'cause it's covered with brambles." Joseph smiled, obviously pleased with his handiwork. "No Redcoat'd find it in a million years."
"That's well and good, but we heard the British are here already," Dan said. "Are they going to be a problem, if we need to transport the powder to the bridge?"
The slight man furrowed his bushy brows and replied, "That is a bit of a problem. Them British are camped on the open ground not far from the bridge. My hidey-hole is on the opposite side of the road and can't be seen from the camp. It will only take a short while to get the powder to the bridge." He grinned at them. "We can do it tonight if you like."
"Tonight's as good a time as any," Dan said inspecting their surroundings. "Though it's goin' to be a full moon. That means we'll need to be careful. Still, if this wind keeps up, that should mask any noise we make." He paused and then met the other man's gaze, "I do have another question."
"Yes?" Joseph asked.
"We was wonderin' if you saw any dead bodies floatin' in the river, 'bout three months back?"
"Now what brought that to your mind?" Joseph asked.
"We knew some men who went missing." Dan replied solemnly.
Joseph nodded. "Well, we certainly did. We fished three men out of the river. Looked like they'd been shot. Buried them near the fort."
"Were any of these men Indian?" Dan asked, glancing at Jericho.
"Indian? Goodness no! No, these folks were white."
As Dan fell silent, Jericho spoke up. "This missin' Indian was a friend of ours. If you hear of anything, you'll let us know?"
Joseph nodded again, and then asked if they wanted to come to the fort with him.
"We might just take a scout 'round first. See what we find. We'll have to make a quick getaway, so it's best to check out our options ahead of time." Jericho glanced at Dan. "How about we meet just after dusk, near the patch of brambles by the bridge you mentioned?"
Joseph turned to go. "The bridge is just over that rise, and it won't take long to get there." He waved goodbye then and hurried away, leaving them alone with their thoughts.
The stranger was driving the cart down the road. It was rough going and the cart noisily creaked and groaned. He smiled, thinking it was a good thing he wasn't bringing home any eggs. They would have been to be scrambled by the time he arrived. He glanced at the sky. The day had turned out to be beautiful; sunny with small, scattered clouds that moved quickly across the blue sky. A stiff breeze ruffled his dark hair.
When he got home he found Charlotte agitated and a bit snappish.
"You're home late," she said, abruptly. "Did you remember to get everything?"
"Yes, I obtained everything on the list. Are you all right Charlotte? You seem out of sorts."
"I'm fine. Just busy, that's all," she replied in a more normal tone.
Even so, as Charlotte seemed distracted, the stranger thought it best he stay away from the cabin for a while. Besides, the encounter with the British soldiers had unnerved him. He found he always felt at peace in the woods and so, he decided to take refuge there. "I thought I might go hunting for rabbits," he said as he reached for his rifle by the door.
Charlotte was obviously worried. Still, she agreed. "Some fresh rabbits would be wonderful. And it is a lovely evening. Take your time, William," Charlotte said as she looked at him and smiled.
The stranger nodded and quickly left, still puzzled by Charlotte's odd mood.
Once within the woods, he welcomed the sanctuary they provided.
No rabbits had the misfortune to cross the stranger's path. For him that was not a problem, he was just as happy to spend the time absorbing the sight and sounds and scents of his surrounds. He had been sitting for some time, soaking up the atmosphere, when he heard a twig snap, followed by the sound of two low voices. He rose and quietly approached a small clearing near the river. Two men walked its edge. One was very tall, the other a few inches shorter. He followed the men for about half an hour until they stopped to set up a temporary camp. As they did, the stranger moved in closer to get a better look.
The stranger frowned. There was something about the very tall man that was vaguely familiar. Something that intrigued him. Was it the distinctive coonskin cap, or the buckskins and the extra long rifle? Or was it, perhaps, the way the tall man moved? Why could he not place it? He looked next at the tall man's companion. He was also familiar, but in a different way. The shorter man was a good deal younger. Perhaps in his early twenties. As he watched them, he found he was drawn to them, but he did not know why. He wanted to move in even closer, but sensed quickly that the taller of the two men knew he was being watched.
The stranger pulled back. He must be patient.
Dan kept his head down while cleaning his rifle. Whoever watched them was keeping his distance. Dan was certain the watcher was alone. Still, with the Redcoats nearby, he didn't want to take a chance of alarming a scout or anyone else to their whereabouts.
"Jericho, got a moment?" Dan asked.
Jericho looked up from the small fire he was building. Dan indicated with a finger to his lips that they should keep their voices down.
"What is it, Dan?" Jericho whispered as he drew close.
"I think we have company. Whoever it is, is a might shy." Dan nodded his head, indicating the area behind the low ridge. "Don't look now, but I reckon we've been shadowed about this last half hour."
"Redcoats?" Jericho asked.
A frown creased Dan's brow. "No. Whoever it is, he's way too quiet for a Redcoat. Could be an Indian scout. It's a worry, if the British have located us this early."
"What're we goin' to do?" Jericho asked.
"Well, I reckon he's by himself. And he can't be two places at once," Dan whispered with a crooked grin.
The stranger watched the two men moving about their small camp. By the look of things the younger one was preparing to go out hunting. He had gathered his rifle, shot bag, and powder horn together.
This created a dilemma. Which one should he watch? The young one was sure to be quicker, stronger, but he did not trust the older one. The stranger didn't know why, but he wanted to keep the taller, older man in sight.
The younger man left the camp and headed his way. The stranger knew he had to change position. Unfortunately, that meant he would also lose sight of the camp. He sensed a trap. It was something in the way the younger one moved. Almost too casually. He felt the men had become aware of his position. Yes, he had to move. A deeply ingrained instinct told him that was the best thing to do. The stranger stole quickly through the undergrowth, heading for a deep depression in the ridge. After a short run to the opposite hill, he would be able to climb a large tree. In its branches he would have a natural vantage point from which to watch again.
Once there he took hold of a sturdy branch, swung up, and settled in a fork next to the trunk. Then he shifted his long legs to get a comfortable, secure position in the tree.
From there, the stranger was able to see his late hiding place.
He breathed a sigh of relief. His instincts had been right.
Both the men were there.
The stranger almost laughed at their confused faces. Obviously, they had expected to find him there. It had been a trap, meant to flush him out. He had beat them at their own game, but he still felt uneasy. For some reason, he felt he should not have run away from them. He didn't know why.
If only he could remember.
The stranger's fingers brushed his short black hair and came to a rest on the scar healing at his temple. He concentrated, desperately trying to recall why tracking these two men, playing the game of cat and mouse, felt so natural and so instinctive.
Charlotte had told him he had lived in London. Why then did he feel at one with the woods?
Why was it all so comforting and so familiar?
Dan and Jericho sat at their small, smokeless fire, sharing a cup of coffee, discussing the elusive stranger they knew was watching them.
"I'm not certain we should continue with the plan for the destruction of the bridge. Especially, if we don't find out who this stranger is," Dan said.
"Then what do you want to do, Dan'l? If we mean to do it, we can't delay it too long." Jericho looked carefully at him. "You know, all we have to do is set the barrels, light the fuse, and get the heck out of there."
Dan nodded. "Still, one thing seems odd to me. This stranger is by himself. His tracks and boot-prints show that he is not a soldier. Given as he is by himself, he will have to leave us to report anything. Still, we'll have to be mighty quick if we move on this, and even quicker to get away." Dan looked thoughtfully at his coffee, as if he hoped the dark, swirling brown liquid might give him guidance somehow.
Jericho stared at him. "Dan'l, I'll do what ever you think is right, but to tell you the truth, this stranger acts more like a ghost. I'd think he was one, if it weren't for the tracks." Jericho shivered. "Sorta makes me jumpy."
"Oh, he's no ghost. He's flesh and blood, I'm sure of that." Dan took a sip. "Let's check with Joseph. I'm sure there are plenty of the Redcoats who drink at his tavern. Joseph may have overhead something." Dan swirled the last of his coffee around his mug. "Then we'll make our mind up." He tossed the remnants of the dark liquid into the leaves of a nearby bush. "Now, let's get going, or else Joseph might start fretting."
The stranger watched carefully as the two men packed up their small camp. Night had fallen and, even though it was a full moon, the sky had grown cloudy, making the countryside particularly dark. Charlotte would be worried about him, but he felt he could not leave the two men. He was certain they were aware of him and so he began to move more cautiously. He kept the distance between them tight so he could still see their movements, but allowed it to grow so he could remain concealed.
The two men followed the rough path along the side of the river, moving toward the British soldiers who were now encamped nearby Limestone. Just as the men came in sight of the long, low wooden bridge, they disappeared into a large, overgrown patch of brambles. The stranger waited, watching, but the men did not reappear. Not knowing exactly what to do, he pondered whether or not he should break his cover to take a closer look. Just as the stranger had decided to move, he saw the store-keep, Joseph, hurrying along the road, headed for the bridge. Joseph came to the spot where the two men were hidden and, after quickly glancing behind, entered the brambles as well.
A few minutes later Joseph and the two men emerged together, carrying what looked to be barrels of gunpowder. Just as the small group drew near the bridge, the moon broke through the cloud cover, illuminating the scene. The men hesitated, as if wondering whether or not they should go on. The tall man signaled, indicating they should. After that, they moved at a faster pace and soon disappeared under the footings of the bridge.
The stranger moved in closer and took up a position under a tree on the low hill near the road. It was an ideal spot. From there he could see not only the bridge, but the road that led back to the settlement. The British camp was barely visible on the opposite hill. As he watched, the men returned to the brambles two more times, collecting more barrels.
Luckily for them, the cloud-cover had increased. The moon was masked, making the night inky black.
At the Browning cabin Charlotte paced back and forth. William had been gone for hours. It was well past sunset. She had even gone out onto the porch to call his name and considered going to look for him.
"Ma?" Israel called her. He and his sister had eaten and had started to clear up the dishes. "Mary and me could go the MacKenzie's cabin, and ask if they've seen Cousin William for you."
"I don't know Israel, that might not be wise. It's dark outside," Charlotte replied.
"But, if we follow the road, we'd be all right. And look, the moon just come out. It's bright as anything, Ma."
"Maybe. If you don't dawdle, and take a lantern." Charlotte bit her lip with concern, unsure of what to do.
Mary was keen to go on this adventure. "Don't worry Ma," she said. "We'll be back in no time."
Charlotte hesitated. "No. Cousin William can take care of himself. Now finish your chores and get ready for bed."
"But, Ma...." they cried in unison.
"You heard me," Charlotte said in her stern motherly tone.
As she watched them walk away with their heads down, she turned back toward the door.
"Take care of yourself, William...." she whispered.
An hour later Israel and Mary dropped to the ground outside their bedroom window.
"Shhh! Ma'll hear!" Mary whispered fiercely.
"She's gonna be mighty sore when she finds out."
Mary smiled. "Not if we bring Cousin William back."
Israel nodded as he opened the shutter on the lantern. Dressed in their warm coats, the children moved off into the woods.
Just out of sight of the cabin, as they came to fork in the trail, Israel turned to Mary and said quietly. "Come on, not that way. I want to have a look at the Redcoat soldiers."
"But Israel, we are going to go to the MacKenzie's to ask about Cousin William, remember? The Redcoats are in the opposite direction." Mary stood her ground as the wind flicked her loose hair in her face.
"So? My friend, Ben, said they have a huge cannon. I want to go and have a look."
"Can't you go tomorrow, when it's not dark?" Mary asked, hoping to reason with her little brother.
"No silly," Israel replied, rolling his eyes. "Ben told me that his father heard the Redcoats was leaving tomorrow. So we have to go now."
"It's dark, stupid! We can't see anything!" Mary was starting to get angry.
"You're scared!" Israel dared.
"I am not!" Just as Mary spoke the clouds shifted, obscuring the moon and making her want to rethink their decision to venture out into the night. Then, they cleared and the light returned. She stared at the moonlit path before them and said quietly, "All right, but we better be quick about it, or else Ma will be furious."
The two children set off running, careful to guard their light. The stiff breeze proved difficult, however, and a gust quickly blew the small flame out. Fortunately, by that time their eyes had grown accustomed to the muted light, and even without their lantern, their progress was surprisingly fast.
The stranger was watching the three men. They seemed to have made their final trip, and he guessed now that they would be laying a fuse. After a few minutes, they all left the protection of the bridge. Joseph shook hands with the two men and then moved up the road, back toward the fort. The other two started to make their way stealthily along the river edge's. As they departed, a sudden noise behind him made the stranger turn and look.
A group of six British soldiers was marching along the road to the bridge. Judging the distance, he estimated the two men had time to escape, if they kept moving quickly.
Just as he turned back to see how far the two men had gotten, he noticed the pair had stopped.
They seemed to be intrigued by something at the river's edge.
Dan and Jericho looked at each other. Dan had found and was holding up a pair of muddy pants made of blue broadcloth, with a distinctive red stripe running down the outside of each leg.
"Are they Mingo's?" Jericho asked, looking at Dan.
Dan had already started carefully examining the surrounding ground.
"Dan, we don't have time." Jericho hissed urgently.
Dan hesitated, a frown creasing his brow. He glanced back toward the bridge. It was about to blow. Dan dropped the broadcloth pants and nodded.
It was time to move on.
The stranger stared at the two men, wondering why they were not moving away from the bridge. Had they laid the powder aside, intending to blow it up later instead of setting the fuse now as he had thought? Moving closer to the area where he had observed them under the bridge, he meant to check it out. At that moment, the moon suddenly broke free of the clouds, illuminating the scene as if it were day. From his vantage point near the bridge, the stranger could see the men. The taller of them was holding up what looked like a pair of pants. A stripe of a different color, perhaps red, ran down their sides. It caught his eye. The stranger frowned, but before he could place what troubled him, he heard the soldiers drawing closer. He rose to check their progress. As he did, there was a loud explosion. Caught off balance, he was knocked sideways by the force.
As the stranger fell, his head hit the side of a tree and he fell unconscious.
Dan and Jericho started to run.
"Wait!" Dan cried, turning back, "that didn't have the right sound. I don't think we got the bridge."
"Well, I'm not waiting to check. Not with those Redcoats nearby," Jericho shouted, indicating the direction of the camp with his thumb.
"Halt!" a loud voice called from close behind them.
Dan and Jericho continued running.
"Halt, I say!" the voice shouted again.
Dan and Jericho followed the rough path, rounding a small rise and then came to a sudden standstill. Three British soldiers blocked their way.
A second later six hammers on six muskets were cocked just behind them.
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