A thick wall of smoke roiled up beyond the trees lining the creek, eliminating all doubt. The Indians had set the buildings ablaze. Lily hadn’t heard Edith screaming, but then with all the other noise and confusion…
Ian sat with Donald, holding the young man close as choking sobs wracked his body. For all he knew, his mother had either been hauled out by the Indians for some unspeakable manner of horrendous torture, or she was being burned alive inside, and he could do nothing to save her. None of them could.
Tears streamed down Matt’s and Luke’s faces as they witnessed their friend’s grief. Their muskets stretched idle across their laps. Everyone up here knew.
Lily no longer tried to contain her own tears. These people were her dearest friends in the world, and like everyone else, she felt devastated and helpless.
“Ian.” Cal tapped the old man’s shoulder and spoke quietly. “I’m startin’ to see smoke comin’ from your place.”
“Figures.” Ian had never looked so old as when he eyed Cal over the top of Donald’s drooping head.
“Mine’ll be next.” Richard gave a bitter laugh. “To think I made Ruthie stay here—for this.”
Just then, a flaming arrow buried itself into a roof post.
As Richard stretched up to dislodge the thing and toss it off, a bullet grazed his cheek. He swiped at the blood with the back of his hand then took hold of his musket again.
Donald rubbed his red eyes and jerked free of Ian’s grasp. Picking up his weapon, he slid the barrel across the railing. Mourning for his mother would have to wait.
John had expected to reach Beaver Cove earlier this morning. But a mile outside of Harris’s Fort Bob’s horse went lame, necessitating a return to the fort for a fresh mount. The weak sun would reach its zenith within the hour, but the day had yet to warm, and mist still dripped from the trees.
Anticipating a blazing hearth and a hot meal, he pulled off his tricorn and dumped the trapped water. The densely wooded trail had started to look familiar a few minutes back. He recognized the old lightning-struck oak and a small stream they’d crossed that fed into Beaver Creek. They’d reach Cal’s place soon.
“You guys smell that?” Toby straightened in his saddle. “Smoke.”
“We’re getting close to home.” Bob nudged his mount to a faster pace.
The Patterson clearing still lay some distance ahead when John’s nerves bristled. The acrid smell floating toward them was too strong to be from a fireplace. Sounds of crackling and snapping grew louder by the second. Breaking out into the open, the evidence hit them full force. Every structure had been afire for some time. Roofs had already collapsed, and the slower-burning log walls smoldered black. The sight made him want to retch.
Gawking in shock, the others pulled out their weapons. But as they rode cautiously in, they could tell the Indians were long gone. Savages never lingered to revel in their destruction, just torched things and left as quickly as they’d come.
Toby reined alongside John. “Thank God, Cal and his family are at your place.”
Bob spoke up, his tone raw with hatred. “There’s more smoke to the south. They must’a got my place, too.” He jammed his heels into his horse’s flanks. “Come on.”
With two miles separating the Patterson place from his own farmstead, John knew that even riding the animals hard, they wouldn’t get to the blockhouse for twenty minutes, maybe thirty.
All too soon, they saw smoke coming from across the creek at Toby Dunlap’s farm. John wondered why Richard and Cal let their property burn without running the savages off as they’d done before.
The group scarcely even slowed when they passed the smoldering, charred ruins of Bob Randall’s place. From the meadow, the clear sky revealed a dense cloud filling the horizon to the south. Breathing came harder, and even the horses had to be urged onward. Had the Indians burned out the entire cove? The blockhouse?
It took all of John’s better instincts not to charge full speed into the melee. He kneed his mount to the front and caught the reins of Bob’s horse, pulling them to a stop, then turned to the others. “This has to be a larger war party. Let’s not just ride in there like a bunch of idiots without a plan of attack.”
A gunshot sounded from the south.
From the direction of the blockhouse.
Two more flaming arrows slammed into the roof.
Lily knew the men couldn’t reach them without getting shot. But if the roof burned, it would collapse and crash down into the interior. They’d all be burned alive. Like Edith.
“Water!” Cal shouted. “Get buckets of water up here quick!”
Ignoring her aching arm, Lily scrambled to the ladder even as flames licked greedily at the top, spreading fast. “Water! We need water. Now!”
Another shot echoed through the woods.
The gunfire gave John a boost of hope. If someone was shooting, the blockhouse must still be standing. “Men, let’s come up on the Indians from behind. Spread out. Make them think there are a lot more of us than there are. When we spot the devils, shoot your muskets, yell, and move before firing your pistols.”
Jackson snorted. “An’ chase the horses toward ’em to make more noise. Them savages’ll think they’re surrounded. They don’t like fightin’ if they don’t got the upper hand.”
Rage sharpened John’s fear as he edged into position. If Lily had taken the boys away when he’d asked, he wouldn’t be in such knots. He could wring her pretty neck for this.
Father God, You know I don’t mean that. Keep them safe. Keep them all safe.
A feather bobbed up above the brush, moving stealthily. John moved from behind a tree to get a clear shot.
Jackson, further down, fired his weapon and gave a wild shout.
The Indian John had spotted sprang up.
John fired and hit his mark, and the painted savage crashed into some brambles.
Toby, at the rear, yelled and whipped the horses forward.
John hollered and moved as the enemy shot in his direction. Spotting the musket flash, he ripped his pistol from his belt and fired, then gave a wild yell and rolled away. He needed fifteen seconds to reload his musket and another five for his pistol.
A bullet crashed into a tree close to where he’d been seconds ago.
While he reloaded, a chilling scream followed another shot. Jackson had the best war cry.
The lad’s fire was returned from two separate sources.
A musket report sounded from John’s other side. Most likely Bob. Everyone knew not to shoot at once and give the enemy time to reload and charge them.
Weapon loaded, John crawled forward, passing the Indian he’d shot, sprawled facedown across a stickery bush.
A few yards ahead, another brave broke out of the undergrowth and ran off.
John fired. Missed.
The warrior never stopped. As three others popped up and sprinted after him, John berated himself for not having loaded his pistol, too.
Someone else shot at the fleeing savages and missed, but at least the marauders were on the run.
John gave a victory yell then crawled behind a tree and reloaded both weapons. He could still hear distant shots coming from the far side of the blockhouse clearing.
Crouching low, he hurried toward the building, gasping in shock when he saw flames licking up from the roof of the watchtower.
Toby came alongside. “God protect them!” he shouted and started forward.
John grabbed his pal’s leg and yanked him back. “We have to stop the redskins on the other side first.”
“Look!” Toby pointed. “I saw water bein’ throwed on that fire. Our people are still up there.”
A shot fired from the blockhouse.
An Indian fell into the clearing.
“Come on. We gotta scare those devils off.” Skirting the cleared section, John led the way through the woods. Halfway around, he spotted a torch, the source of the flaming arrows. He fired.
It crashed to the ground, along with the warrior.
Another of John’s comrades fired and hollered. John yelled with the others.
In a flurry of feathers and painted bodies, a dozen braves exposed themselves and raced to the west after the others. They were leaving at last!
John emptied his pistol at them then charged out of the trees toward the blockhouse, yelling and waving his musket overhead.
The structure’s charred, sagging roof creaked and splintered then came crashing down. Were the boys up there? And Lily?
He had to get there before the fire reached below. Let everyone know it was safe. “Come out! Come out!”
He heard Bob and Jackson shouting as they emerged into the clearing.
If only someone inside would hear them. Open the door.
Reaching the building, John banged on the door with the butt of his pistol. “Open up! It’s safe! We’re here!”
Screaming and crying erupted inside, and he heard the bar being raised. Please let my family be there!
Another section of the roof crashed down in flames.
The heavy door scraped inward. Frantic, John gave it a mighty shove, and people rushed out, crying and laughing.
Luke grabbed hold of him. Then Matt. He hauled them close. His boys were unharmed. Thank You, God. Thank You. Thank You.
But— John’s heart pounded double-time. “Where’s Lily? Is she all right?”
Matt lifted his head from John’s shoulder. “Inside.”
Why hadn’t she come out? Didn’t she know the roof was about to…? Shoving his sons aside, John charged inside, where smoke was already drifting down through the cracks and filling the interior.
Then he saw her, kneeling with Cal beside a prone body.
Ian! The old man was conscious, but blood was staining the wad of cloth Lily pressed to his shoulder. Intent on her task, she had yet to look up.
“We had to drag him down the ladder,” Cal explained.
John glanced up the length of the steps, where flames licked through a splintered board across the ladder hole. Reaching down, he took hold of Ian’s arm. “Help me, Cal. We’ve got to get him out of here.”
Lily’s head jerked around. Her gaze met John’s and held. She continued to press on Ian’s wound while the men dragged him outside a safe distance away from the blockhouse. That’s when John noticed the bandage on her arm. She’d been hurt, too.
As he and Cal gently laid Ian down, Maggie and Agnes dropped to their knees beside the old man, taking over from Lily.
“Isna’ bad,” the Scot assured his wife and daughter-in-law, but the strain on his face belied his brave words.
Neighbors crowded close, talking and crying and laughing at once.
“Can’t abide gawkin’,” Ian said, wincing with pain. “Get the supplies outta the blockhouse b’fore they burn up.”
As John took a step back, Jackson caught Lily—his Lily—away. The young man whisked her off the ground and hugged her to him.
Lily’s wild gaze flew to John.
He didn’t know if she was shocked by Jackson’s aggression or was embarrassed that he’d seen her and Jackson together in such a familiar way. Fists clenching, he started toward them.
“Where’s Edith?” Emerging from the blockhouse with a sack of grain over his shoulder, Bob searched frantically around. “Where’s my wife?”
Edith! Lily pushed away from Jackson. “Let me down. Please. I need to go to Bob.”
“He already knows about Robby.” Frowning, Jackson lowered her to the ground.
“But not about Edith.” She scanned the crowd for him.
Several neighbors had crowded around Ian. Ruth was tending the slash across Richard’s cheek. Donald and Bob’s other children stood frozen in place, wide-eyed as they stared at their father. Bob’s gaze searched the area.
Lily hurried to John and took hold of his knotted fist. “Please, John. Bob’s going to need you now.”
His hand relaxed, and he wove his fingers through hers as she led him to his friend.
“Where’s Edith?” Bob asked again.
Lily placed a hand on his shoulder and prayed for the right words. “I’m…so sorry, Bob. Edith locked herself in the carpentry shop with Robby’s casket and wouldn’t come out for anyone. We need to go and see….” Unable to finish, she bit her lip.
“What?” Bob wrenched away from John and latched on to Lily, his fingers digging into her arms. She flinched in pain. “You left her to the Indians?”
“The war party came on us all at once. We had to run for our lives. It wasn’t until we were in the blockhouse being shot at that we realized she wasn’t with us. Believe me, there are no words to describe how terribly helpless we all felt. I’m sorry. So very sorry.”
John unfurled his friend’s fingers from Lily’s arms and took him in a firm hold. “Let’s go across and find out what happened to her. The Indians might have dragged her away with them.”
“Aye.” Reason began to take hold. “Aye.” The man dashed madly toward the bridge with John right behind him.
Although she dreaded what they were certain to find, Lily picked up her skirts and followed, uncaring that her arm burned and ached. She was more concerned about Bob and what he would have to face. She barely noticed that Donald, Matt, and Luke caught up with her.
On the other side of the creek, Lily saw that the springhouse and smokehouse, tucked in the trees near the creek, were untouched. Likely the Indians were saving them until they had time to empty the food stores. Climbing the rise, she passed the hog pen and noticed only one hog lay dead. The other three grown ones and their spring babies were still alive. The stable and corncrib, however, were nothing but charred jumbles. And just beyond…
Lily stopped in her tracks.
The carpentry shop still stood! Nearby, the roof of the cabin had burned and crashed in, and the interior still smoldered. But the shop appeared to be untouched!
Bob reached the structure and pounded on the door. “Edith! Edith! Are you in there?” He swung his musket up, butt first, and used it to bang harder.
Miracle of miracles, the door swung open. And there stood Edith, haggard and weary, her hair unbound and tangled.
Her husband gaped at her for a second, then pulled her into an embrace, kissing her and murmuring over and over in her ear. “I’ll never leave you again. Never. I promise.”
Lily stared at the couple in wonder, so overwhelmed by God’s mercy, she broke into sobs.
John immediately enfolded her trembling body within his warm, strong arms.
She clung to him, weeping, until at last she was able to regain control of herself. As Matt and Luke moved in to hug her, too, her heart ached with joy.
When her shuddering breaths eased into more natural breathing, John held her away and searched deep into her eyes. “Now, tell me. Why on earth didn’t you take the boys and leave here when I asked you to?”
Lily moistened her lips and swiped at her tears, then lowered her lashes. What could she say?