Twin Willows: A Novel (17 page)

At least they would have the advantage of surprise, Otter thought. No one in the Station seemed to know what awaited outside their gates. A rooster crowed, and smoke from cooking fires rose lazily in the still air. Otter looked closely at the palisades, but saw no telltale rifle barrels. He put his hand on the hilt of his scalping knife, which he had honed to a sharp edge, and licked his lips in anticipation. Soon, perhaps, it would be put to good use.

The lookout’s cry jolted Anna awake from an odd but pleasant dream in which she and Stuart had been making love. Still holding her close, he whispered that he would take her to see her mother’s village.

“Indians!”

“Where?” Anna heard someone ask.

“Everywhere—we’re surrounded.”

Now wide awake, Anna opened her eyes and saw it was not yet fully light. She dressed with haste. Her father was nowhere to be seen, but Rebecca sat at the table, fully clothed and calmly eating breakfast.

“Ian’s gone to see what the fuss is about. Take some of this johnnycake—it might be a while before you have another chance to eat.”

Although Rebecca spoke matter-of-factly, the tightness in her voice suggested that she felt some concern over what lay ahead.

Anna wasn’t hungry, but she crumbled some of last night’s bread into a trencher of clabbered milk. “What will happen now?” she asked.

That depends on the savages. If they want a fight, we’ll give them one.” Rebecca pointed to several long-barreled rifles propped against the wall by the hearth. “The first one’s mine, but you can take your pick of the others. All are primed and ready to fire.”

A knock sounded on the cabin door, and Rebecca opened it to John Atkinson. “Everyone’s to come outside now for muster,” he said. “Don’t bring the rifles yet,” he added as Rebecca and Anna both moved toward them.

“What does this mean?” Anna asked, but Rebecca merely shook her head.

A few moments later, most of the Station’s inhabitants formed a loose circle around Ian McKnight as he explained their situation.

“There’s a great many Indians out there—more than usually come a-raiding. We think it might be the party we were warned about last night, come here in place of Hoy’s Station. I reckon they don’t know we’ve seen them.”

“If we go out now, they’d surely catch us in an ambuscade, then try to overrun the Station while the gates are still open,” James Craig said.

Anna shuddered to think how close to death her father and the other men had come.

“We’ve food and ammunition enough to withstand a siege, but as ye know, the spring lies outside the gates, and we cannot last long without water.”

He paused for a moment, and James Craig spoke in the sudden silence. “I agree that we must have water, but how can we fetch it, with the savages watching our every move? ’Twould be suicide—”

“I think not,” Ian said. “Every morning since there’s been a Station here, the women have gone out for water. They can do so now, just as usual. The Indians won’t risk firing at them—’twould only give them away.”

Charles Beasley, who had been back only two days after escaping from Shawnee captivity, nodded in agreement. “Aye, the colonel speaks the truth. Some Shawnee ways I know all too well. No warrior would disgrace himself by firin’ at women.”

Some men agreed, while others murmured against the proposed plan.

“Seems like y’ oughter ask us women what we think about it, seein’ how it’s us that’d be doin’ the goin’ out there,” the Widow Stucker said.

All were silent for a moment. When several women began to speak at once, Ian McKnight held up his hand.

“Quiet! Ye might as well invite their chief in for a powwow,” he admonished.

Rebecca McKnight took a step toward her husband. “Very well, sir. The more water we have, the better the chances we can hold out. I’m goin’ after a bucket now. Any woman or girl willin’ to join me, do the same and meet back here. We’ll all go out together.”

My father married a brave woman
, Anna thought with admiration. Whatever Rebecca’s faults might be, cowardice was not among them.

Silently the women scattered to their own cabins, to return in a few minutes with a variety of buckets—one-handled piggins, upright-handled noggins, and a few sturdy copper-bound oaken buckets with rope handles.

“I reckon we’re ready,” the Widow Stucker declared.

Anna’s heart pounded as her father gave the men a series of rapid orders.

“We must have several of ye posted at the palisades and firing stations. Take care not to show yourselves, and hold your fire unless the Indians shoot first.”

When the men had taken their places, Ian nodded to the Widow Stucker and Rebecca, stationed in the front of the party. In silence the women moved toward the Station’s front entrance, their usual route to the spring. David Herndon lifted the heavy bolt and let the gates swing open just enough to allow them to pass through in single file.

Anna had gone down the hill to the spring many times, but never had the trip seemed quite so long as it did on this morning. She feared that the Indians must surely hear the collective pounding of their hearts. At the head of the little column, the Widow Stucker seemed engaged in ordinary conversation with Rebecca, but few of the others had enough presence of mind to do much more than moan softly to themselves as they made their way down the hill.

The spring was too narrow for more than three or four to bend over it at a time, and in their haste to fill their buckets and be gone, some of the women jostled one another as they reached it.

“Mind your manners,” the Widow Stucker said sharply. Finding herself near the end of the column, Anna watched the others and waited her turn. She knew that the widow was right; undue haste on their part would surely arouse the Indians’ suspicions and perhaps even draw their fire. At first Anna had to resist the urge to run, but as she finally reached the spring with her two oaken buckets, her legs weakened beneath her so much that she could scarcely walk. She knelt to fill her buckets, and when she stood, their heavy weight surprised her.

Well, at least I won’t be tempted to run back up the hill
, Anna through wryly.

She looked back toward the Station walls, which the Widow Stucker and Rebecca had almost reached. A few more yards, and the gate would swing open to them. Some of the women behind them started to run, and Anna saw Rebecca turn to them, frowning.

Surely the Indians will be suspicious of the way we’re acting
, Anna thought. At any moment she expected to hear the report of their rifles, or worse, to feel the painful thrust of an arrow in her back. She knew that most Indians had smoothbore rifles furnished by the British. According to her father and other men Anna had heard on the subject, these were far inferior to the Pennsylvania rifles, whose spiral bores fired a bullet longer and truer. However, the Indians had also retained their skill with the bow and arrow, and many preferred to use the old weapons for stealth and quiet. Sometimes the arrows were tipped with poison . . .

Anna swallowed hard and looked toward the Station, which now seemed impossibly far away.

From his vantage point, Otter detected a movement. As he looked toward its source, the station’s front gate opened. With every muscle tensed and ready for action, he waited to see what would happen next.

Perhaps the Shemanese know we are here and will be foolish enough to come out to fight us
. That notion was short-lived, however, as he watched the two women with water buckets emerge from the Station and start down the hill to the spring.

Otter relaxed and let his breath puff out his cheeks. No doubt, bringing water was women’s work everywhere. It would be natural for the
Shemanese
women to fetch water every morning, as did the Shawnee. As he watched, other women followed, and still more, all carrying buckets.

Otter had not seen many
Shemanese
women, and he studied them as closely as he could from his hiding place. They seemed to be of all ages, from grandmothers to mere girls who looked too weak to carry their heavy buckets back up the hill. All wore long dresses, and some kind of cloth covered their heads. He found the color of their skin repulsive, like the undersides of dead fish. The light color of some of their eyes made him uneasy.

Then another water carrier came from the gate, and Otter rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Had his sight somehow tricked his mind? But he looked again, and what he saw had not changed.

“This one is not
Shemanese
,” he told himself. Although the girl’s clothes were like the others’, her appearance definitely was not. Her skin was far darker than theirs, and her features seemed more sharply defined.

Perhaps it was the grace of her carriage that convinced Otter that this water carrier was no stranger to him. The way she held her head, and every other thing about her was as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Willow
. He said the name softly to himself, then repeated it. Willow-
neewa
, the one he would call wife. But how did she come to be in this
Shemanese
station, wearing their clothes and fetching their water?

The
Shemanese
must have stolen her and brought her here. Black Snake should never have let Bear’s Daughter take her from his protection
.

Otter watched the girl’s progress all the way down the hill. His anger flared when he saw several of the women push her aside. When she reached the spring, Otter noted with approval that while the others bent awkwardly to fill their buckets, she was the only one who knelt, in the Indian way.

With hungry eyes, Otter watched the girl rise, being pushed several times in the process.
The Shemanese women must surely be jealous of her beauty
, he told himself. He rehearsed how he would spring from the tree to rescue her as all the other warriors looked on with envy and amazement, while the
Shemanese
women screamed in terror.

“Ah!” He all but smacked his lips in anticipation of Willow’s gratitude when she realized that he was rescuing her and taking her back to her home. And if the old woman still lived, Bear’s Daughter would be grateful, too. No doubt the story would be told around a hundred campfires, wherever and for as long as the Shawnee honored their own.

Yes
, Otter thought with satisfaction.
When I bring Willow back to Waccachalla, there will be no doubt that she belongs in my lodge. Even Black Snake himself will be proud of this thing I do
.

With that thought firmly in his mind, Otter jumped down from the tree and moved quickly toward the spring.

Intent only on going back up the hill, Anna did not notice the dark figure that darted from the trees and ran toward her until he stood beside her. By then, it was too late. Her two buckets fell from her hands, the water sloshing onto the ground and over her feet.

A confusion of images simultaneously assailed Anna’s senses. She smelled a strange, musky odor she recognized as bear grease, saw the flash of a red band around a painted face, and heard unintelligible words being rapidly spoken in a guttural tongue. She felt herself being picked up and lifted high by strong arms, briefly carried like a sack of meal slung over her captor’s bare shoulder, and finally being thrown onto the back of a waiting horse.

Anna’s captor was obviously pleased with himself. Keeping up a rapid stream of gibberish, he swung up behind her, spurred his horse, and headed away from Bryan’s Station at a brisk gallop.

Desperately Anna tried to look back, but already the Station was out of sight. And even if anyone there had seen what had happened, they didn’t appear to be doing anything about it.

Of course no one can come after me now
, Anna realized dully.
That could only lead to bloodshed
.

She briefly entertained the idea of trying to jump from the horse. She was tightly wedged between her captor and the elevated front of the saddle, however, and on either side the Indian’s muscular arms formed a solid barrier as he held the reins. Since Anna knew that to fall from a galloping horse would most likely injure her badly, she held on with all her might.

Behind her, Anna’s captor laughed, a sound that somehow chilled her even more than a growled threat would have. “
Willow-neewa!
” he cried in her ear. “
Willow-neewa!
”

Did he really speak her name, or did she imagine it?
Impossible
, Anna thought.
This savage doesn’t know me. Surely he has nothing to do with me or my mother’s people
.

Yet a strange prickling at the base of her scalp made Anna wonder if she could be so certain of that.

Always be careful what ye ask for, Anna Willow
—
ye might get it
. The words her father had spoken to her many years before echoed in her mind like distant thunder before a storm.

I meant it when I said I wanted to see where my mother’s people lived. But this isn’t how I wanted to get there
.

Anna’s world now contained only the continuing near-chant of her captor’s voice and the labored breathing of his horse. Every hoofbeat took her ever farther north, away from all that she knew, and all that she held dear.

B
RYAN’S
S
TATION

When Rebecca re-entered the Bryan’s Station gates carrying her water buckets, Ian embraced her, relief written on his face. But just as he turned back in expectation of his daughter’s safe return, a lookout high on the palisade cried out.

“An Injun just grabbed one of the women!”

The last of the water carriers surged inside the gate, which immediately closed behind them.

“I didn’t see no Injuns,” the Widow Stucker muttered.

“No wonder, since we were all just lookin’ to get back to the Station,” Rebecca said.

The women glanced around uneasily, soon discovering the truth of what Ian had immediately feared. Of them all, only Anna Willow McKnight had not returned from the spring.

Quickly Ian scaled the ladder and joined the lookout on his narrow ledge. Although no one was in sight, Ian’s scalp prickled, aware that the deceptive calm could soon be broken. “What did you see?” he demanded.

The young lookout shook his head. “It all happened so quick, I don’t rightly know, sir. One minute the women was all comin’ back, with not an Injun in sight—an’ the next thing I knew, one dropped out of a tree close to the spring and had ahold of someone afore she had any chance to get away.”

“Where did he take her?” Ian asked.

“Into the woods, I reckon. He sure didn’t waste no time haulin’ her out o’ sight.”

“Stay here, and if you see anything else, let me know right away.”

“Yes, sir. You think the Injuns might go away, now they’ve got them a hostage?”

A hostage
. Was that why they had taken Anna Willow? Did they hope to get a ransom for her, or—? Ian passed a shaking hand over his brow, not willing to carry the thought further.

“Anna’s not here,” Rebecca said when Ian returned to her side.

“I know. I must go after her.”

Overhearing, James Craig joined them. “Colonel, I know you’re worried about your girl, but if you so much as set one foot outside these walls, you’ll be a dead man.”

“James is right,” Rebecca said. “Don’t do anything foolish—that won’t help Anna or anyone else.”

“We need you here at the Station,” James added.

The words were no sooner said than two lookouts cried out at almost the same time. “Injuns!” said one, and “They’re comin’!” yelled the other.

At once Ian McKnight, worried father, had to become Colonel McKnight, in charge of protecting the lives of those in the Station. “All right, everyone, you know what is to be done. Women and children, go to your cabins. Men, look to your weapons!”

After seizing the girl he thought was Willow, Otter had ridden as hard as he dared toward the O-hio-se-pe. Only when he had crossed it would he and Willow be safe. His initial elation at stealing his intended wife from her
Shemanese
captors had settled into keen anticipation as he continued to picture the stir when he brought his prize back to Waccachalla.

Anna rode before him, her first numbed shock replaced by a sober consideration of what might happen next. Undoubtedly, she had already been missed, and her father would come after her as soon as he could. Unless, of course, the Station had since come under Indian attack. In that case, no one would be able to come for her for some time. In the meantime, she would have to rely on her own wits.

The horse gradually slowed from a full gallop to a canter, then to a walk. Finally it halted in a deep, gloomy place, which no ray of sun penetrated. Water murmured nearby, and Anna’s heart contracted as she realized that they must be near the Ohio River.

Her captor slid from the horse and let go of the reins as he reached his arms out to help her down. In the split second before she could weigh any possible consequences, Anna leaned forward and grabbed the reins. She slapped them hard against the horse’s withers and dug her heels into its flanks. With a surprised snort, the animal reared back, then stretched out its neck and began to run.

Ducking tree limbs and branches, Anna managed to work her way backward to sit in the saddle, but she still felt far from secure as the horse raced forward. Unable to reach the stirrups, Anna pressed her legs tightly against the horse’s sides. The animal’s labored breathing and the steady tattoo of its hoofbeats muffled the shouts of her captor, which soon faded away.

I have escaped
, Anna thought, with a mixture of relief and fright. She had no idea where she was, but at least she was free from her the man who had seized her.

She had little time for celebration, however. The horse half reared, took a few skittish steps to one side, then came to an abrupt halt as the trail descended into a clearing and stopped suddenly at the river. No side paths branched into the dense underbrush, and since she could ride no farther, Anna decided to abandon the horse. She slid off and turned the animal to face the direction from which she had come. Using a fallen tree branch, Anna hit the horse’s rump. The horse reared and neighed its displeasure, then ran from her.

Perhaps when the Indian sees his horse, he’ll presume I was thrown, and look for me on the trail
. By that time, she planned to be well out of sight.

Anna plunged into the underbrush and started to work her way back south. She intended to stay parallel to the trail, but far enough from it so that the Indian would never find her.

Or at least, so she hoped.

Otter did not enjoy being tricked. He had been unhappy when he brought that prime deer to Willow’s lodge, only to find her gone; but he’d believed that when he rescued the girl from the
Shemanese
, she would gladly accept his offer of marriage. Now, however, this girl Willow had caused Otter to be truly angry.

What evil spirit is in her, that she mocks me and steals my horse when I saved her from the Shemanese who made her their slave?

Absorbed in his anger, Otter walked on. He hadn’t gotten far before he heard hoofbeats coming in his direction. His first thought was that Willow had meant only to tease him, to play a joke, and now she returned on his horse. Otter put on a stern face, ready to let her know that stealing a warrior’s horse was not a jesting matter. When she came into his lodge, she could not behave as a silly maiden; the mother of his sons could not do such things.

The hoofbeats abruptly stopped.
The girl might have been thrown off
, Otter thought. He ran ahead until he came to the horse, foraging contentedly beside the trail. Willow was nowhere in sight.

Otter took the horse’s reins and mounted. As he rode slowly back toward the river, his eyes searched the ground around the trail. When the path ended, he swung from the horse and looped the reins around a sapling. In the dappled half light of the clearing, Otter found the unmistakable evidence of her footprints. For some reason, Willow had entered the underbrush and headed south again.

He sighed in exasperation and annoyance. Why would she do such a thing? Surely the girl couldn’t want to return to the
Shemanese
. Perhaps she had fallen from the horse and addled her senses. He had heard of such a thing happening, even to warriors.

But no matter why Willow had run from him, Otter would soon find her. With almost every step, she had brushed against a small tree or bush, thus perfectly blazing her trail. It was only a matter of time—and not much time at that—before Otter would claim her.

The siege of Bryan’s Station lasted throughout the rest of that day and night and all the next day. Rebecca kept busy supplying the men with bullets and tending to the wounded. Ian was everywhere, seeing that the women and children were as safe as possible, while taking his turn at the firing stations. In the night, the invading Indians sent flaming arrows onto the cabin roofs, starting many fires that burned some structures to the ground. When Ian climbed to the roof of one cabin in an attempt to beat out the flaming shingles, an arrow grazed his side. Ignoring the pain, he succeeded in saving the cabin before he sought out Rebecca to dress the wound. And through it all, his heart felt the constant dull ache of fear and dread that he did not know what had become of his daughter.

Although they were far outnumbered by the Indians, the settlers had superior weapons and were well protected by the Station walls. Guided by the skill and experience of Colonel Ian McKnight, the settlers were able to inflict heavy losses on their attackers, who finally gave up and fled.

Only a few hours later, Colonel Daniel Boone’s small force from Boonesborough reached Bryan’s Station. They were soon joined by Colonel John Todd, who headed a hundred and seventy men from Harrodsburg, Booneville, Danville, Lexington, and Stanford.

As soon as Ian McKnight heard they were there, he insisted on meeting with the leaders, despite his painful wound.

Daniel Boone looked imposing in his long brown hunting shirt and black hat, but his voice was characteristically and surprisingly soft. “I see that Simon Girty’s up to his old tricks. What happened here, Colonel McKnight?”

Briefly Ian described the siege. “Before it started, a warrior kidnapped my daughter outside the Station. We lost two men killed and several others were hurt. The Indians slaughtered all the sheep and nearly a hundred head of cattle. I suspect they’re probably riding for the Licking River now, but since they made off with most of the horses, we can’t even pursue them.”

John Todd and Daniel Boone exchanged glances, then Todd nodded. “We’ll ride hard. Maybe we can still catch them.”

Daniel Boone extended his hand to Ian. “You did good work here, Colonel. I’m sorry about your daughter.”

Rebecca had stood by while Ian talked to the two men. When they left, she laid her hand on his arm. “There’s naught you can do to help them, and it’s past time you took some rest.”

“I’m all right,” Ian protested, but he allowed Rebecca to link her arm in his and lead him to their cabin,

“Lie down and be quiet for a spell.”

Reluctantly Ian lay down, but sat up again immediately, a motion that caused him to wince and hold his hurt side. “How can I rest, when I ought to be going after Anna Willow?”

“But Ian, be sensible—you’ve been wounded. You’re not strong enough to do this.”

Ian shook off his wife’s protests. “There’s no help for it—I maun find Anna Willow. Captain Craig, will ye join me?”

A wide smile lighted James Craig’s craggy face. “Yes, sir! Ever since the Crutcher boys found those horses, I’ve been hopin’ for a chance to get in this fight.”

A quarter of an hour later Ian McKnight and James Craig rode out of Bryan’s Station. Any of the other men would have gladly gone with them, but Ian decided to leave the other horse at the Station in case it was needed.

“We’ll make for the Licking River. It may be that the men with Colonel Todd and Colonel Boone have already caught up with Girty’s band.”

“And whupped ’em too, I hope,” James Craig said.

Yet the closer the men came to the place where the Indians would have forded the Licking River, the more uneasy each became.

“Something’s not right here,” Ian muttered.

They saw no one, nor did they hear any sounds of a battle. At the Blue Licks they halted their horses and gazed at the terrain beyond, a maze of ravines and underbrush that made an ideal place for an ambush. More than once, Indians had taken white settlers captive in this very spot, and only a few had escaped to tell about it.

After a long moment, John glanced questioningly at Ian. “I suppose we’d better take a look and see what we can find. ”

Almost as soon as he spoke, several militiamen staggered from the narrow defile. A few were obviously wounded, and they all seemed dazed. That they had been in a battle was abundantly and awfully clear.

Ian and James Craig dismounted when they saw an old acquaintance who lived in Boonesborough. “What happened here?” Ian asked.

The man’s mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. “I reckon you can tell that pretty plain. Colonel Todd and Colonel Boone didn’t want us to go after the savages, and we didn’t, ’til Major McGary started off alone, hollerin’ that he wasn’t a-feared to go. Of course, ever’one followed him, not wantin’ to be counted as cowards.”

“The Indians made an ambuscade?” Ian asked.

“Aye. Trapped us back there in the narrows, with no place to hide. ’Tis a wonder that any of us lived to tell of it.”

“What about the Indians? Where are they now?” James Craig asked.

McTavish laughed without humor. “Well, now, I didn’t follow ’em, but I’d guess they’re either already acrost the river or well on their way to Ohio by now.”

“Did ye notice a captive girl with them?” Ian asked.

“No. The way they was actin’, I’d say they didn’t aim to take no prisoners.”

He and Ian walked into the ravine with their rifles at the ready. They soon lowered them, however, as it became all too apparent that those who had caused the slaughter had already taken their scalps and left.

James Craig touched his hand to Ian’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Colonel. I reckon we got here too late.”

Ian McKnight’s jaw set in a stubborn line. “For this battle, maybe, but I’m not yet finished with Simon Girty’s rabble. If it takes going to every village on the other side of the Ohio, I’ll find Anna Willow.”