Through the Fire (The Native American Warrior Series)

by Beth Trissel

  She clutched at him. “Shoka!”

  He wrapped her in his arms. “I have you and will not let you fall.”

  She relaxed her frantic grasp. Secure in his embrace, she pushed back her blowing hair and gazed down at the wooden palisade rising from the green clearing. “Like a ship on a grassy sea. It’s not as big as Loudoun.”

  “You see from a distance. Yet you are right.”

  Even so, Warden was impressive. A sturdy blockhouse stood at each of its four corners, and he glimpsed other log buildings within its walls. He guessed them to be a magazine for storing ammunition, a commissary for provisions, and the officers’ quarters. If supplies were ample, the settlers inside the fort could hold out for some time. But this was not the case. Rebecca had spoken of as few as eighteen men garrisoned there and the war party numbered close to seventy.

  “It’s a strong defense, yet poorly manned,” he said.

  “I doubt Captain Bancroft will readily surrender, though. It’s a well-timbered structure,” she pointed out.

  “Does not wood burn?”

  She closed her eyes and drew every muscle tight. “Indeed it does. I can still hear the flames, feel the heat and smell the smoke. What a nightmare.”

  He kissed her cheek, chilled in the breeze. “Tell me.”

  “Our country manor burned to the ground when I was twelve years old. We barely escaped with our lives. I dragged Kate down the winding stairs and we crawled from the house. The servants carried Papa out. He’d drunk too much whiskey as usual.”

  Shoka tightened his embrace. “Where did you live?”

  “Our grand home in London still remained. It wasn’t enough for Papa, though. Nothing ever was.”

  He hated that she still judged a deep part of herself by how that vile man had treated her. Even more, he hated what lay before them. “You are enough for me. You are everything. Come what may, remain behind tomorrow.”

  “But if Captain Bancroft refuses Capitaine Renault’s parley, he or Uncle Henry may listen to me. I must try.”

  “Rebecca, I beg you not to go.”

  She lifted her eyes to his with an expression of somber wonder. “I never thought to hear you beg.”

  “Not for my own life. For yours, I surrender all pride.”

  “How I long to escape this path and be with you. Take me far from here, now, and I will agree to your request.”

  He would give almost anything to do that. But his friends were relying on him, his people in need. “I cannot.”

  Her mouth trembled. “Nor can I do as you ask.”

  Violent upheaval rocked him at her refusal. She didn’t understand what she was undertaking or the desperation mounting in him. “You will make me crazy.”

  “I can’t help it. You’re no coward. Why ask me to behave as one?”

  “There is no dishonor in remaining behind. I would rather see you hidden in safety than risking such danger.”

  “Are you so certain I will be?” she asked.

  “I do not possess the sight to see the future. But I fear you will enter the fort.”

  “I won’t.”

  He was silent. The wind whistling in his ears and the distant shrill of birds filled the hush between them.

  She dropped her eyes to the narrow valley below and he followed her gaze. The mellow light spilled over Warden and the stream behind the palisade glinted through the trees. Scattered sheep, no more than gray dots, grazed in the clearing and the woods fanned out on all sides beyond the meadow.

  “So peaceful,” she murmured

  “Tomorrow it may not seem so.”

  “If I do find myself in there, somehow I’ll find my way back to you.”

  Grim coils snaked foreboding through his heart. “It is not so simple.”

  “Trust me.”

  “I must. Or leave you in the trees. Come.”

  “Where?” she asked.

  “We must join Black Knife’s party in the woods beyond Warden to ready the fort for attack.”

  She cringed at his words. “How do you prepare?”

  “This is not for your ears.”

  “Shoka, please. I must know what to expect.”

  “Tonight we will ring the base of the fort with brush.”

  She swallowed hard. “And light it afire?”

  “Not yet. The darkness also gives cover to the men inside, to put out the fire.”

  “What then?”

  He was loathe to tell her. “Near the brush we will place pine knots that lead back to the stream bank. In the morning warriors will wait there, hidden from sight. They will light the first knot.”

  “Only one?”

  “Fire flashes from one knot to the next until the flame reaches the brush. Capitaine Renault told Black Knife to use fire arrows, to burn more holes in the walls. When there is much fire and confusion within, we will fell the door with a sturdy log.”

  She shrank from him just as he’d feared she would. “Very effective strategy. And terrible.”

  “The French know much of building forts.”

  Revulsion welled in her eyes. “And consequently how to destroy them. Is there nothing you can do to stop this horror?”

  “You know Black Knife’s terms. Unconditional surrender.”

  “I should hate you for your part.”

  He wrapped her in his arms. “Do not,” he pleaded. “This war goes far beyond me. Beyond any of us. France battles England, England battles France, each aided by different tribes.”

  She buried her face in his shirt, muffling her voice. “What is it all for?”

  “To determine who will possess this vast land, its wealth and furs. Yet Shawnee and tribes allied with us fight only for our portion. We have no wish for the whole of this land.”

  “It’s beyond me to understand all you say. I only know that Kate and I have family in that fort.”

  “I will do all I can to aid them,” he vowed.

  “So will I.”

  ****

  A tranquil palette of gold and mauve rimmed the tops of the oak and chestnut trees and touched the warriors gathered in the woods to the north of the wooden palisade. Some of the timber had been felled, leaving spaces for the assembly. An expectant hum buzzed through the men like the low drone of an agitated beehive. Warden wasn’t visible from where they’d grouped, but Rebecca had no doubt the braves knew exactly where it stood.

  No one in the fort was yet aware of their furtive presence. No campfires had been lit, only cold food eaten for supper, and the men kept their voices to a murmur. Any unwary soul venturing from Warden this night would swiftly regret his carelessness.

  Her stomach churned. More than anything else she wanted Shoka by her side. Heedless of onlookers, she threw her arms around his neck. “Stay with me.”

  “I cannot.”

  “What of your shoulder?”

  “Would you make an old man of me? Today you prevent me from hunting. Now you wish me to remain behind like one crippled with age.”

  “But you are wounded.”

  “I will keep watch.”

  “Why not another?”

  He succumbed to her persistence and gathered her against him. “Because when you are not with me, making me forget all else, I see and hear what many do not.”

  “True,” Renault agreed from behind her. “I need Shoka’s eyes and ears, and his skill with a musket if we are seen.”

  “That’s not heartening.”

  “I did not mean to increase your alarm. He will come and go like a spirit of the trees.”

  Rebecca tried another tactic. “What if Kate wakes to find you gone and warriors all around her? She trusts him.”

  Renault stepped around them and cast a tender eye at Kate lying fast asleep beneath a maple. Only one cheek and a few reddish-brown curls peeked out from under the blanket. “The poor girl is utterly spent. I’m hopeful she will not rouse until my return, but if she does, you will be here.”

  Rebecca slid her hand from Shoka’s neck and claspe
d the sleeve of Renault’s navy field coat. “Scant comfort I shall be. Please, Capitaine, I am also afraid.”

  He seemed to realize it was an admission not easily made and squeezed her hand. “Of the warriors?”

  “Some, still. Though mostly of tomorrow.”

  “I regret your suffering, dear lady. These men will do you no harm.”

  “But I feel as if the world is closing in on me.”

  “Events are not always as we fear, Madame.”

  “No. Sometimes they are worse.”

  “You will be well,” Shoka soothed. “Go sleep by your sister.”

  “I can’t. Not until you return. Likely not even then.”

  “What if we leave Meshewa with the warriors remaining behind?” Renault suggested. “You like him.”

  “Too well,” Shoka said gruffly.

  Renault arched an eyebrow. “You object to your young cousin? He would be of comfort to her.”

  “She has had enough comfort from this one.”

  A faint smile curved Renault’s lips. “What of Lieutenant Remy, then? I am confident I can persuade him to stay.”

  “You have a sharp wit, Capitaine,” Shoka muttered. “My sides shake with laughter.”

  “What would you have me do? Black Knife grows impatient and Wabete will storm over here in a moment to pry her from you. We cannot leave the poor lady in this state.”

  Shoka gave a short nod. “Call Meshewa.”

  Renault waved the young brave over, making a valiant effort to check his humor.

  Meshewa looked from the Frenchman’s twitching lips to a tight-jawed Shoka and back to Renault in confusion. “You wish me, Capitaine?”

  “Oui. Stay with Madame Elliot.”

  Frowning at his cousin, Shoka put Rebecca from him with gentle but firm hands. “I will return,” he said, and strode off with Renault.

  Gray twilight swallowed his tall figure along with those of the others and the men vanished into the trees.

  Meshewa stared after them. “Shoka is angry with me.”

  “He cares far too much for you to remain so.”

  “Yet he knows I care for you.”

  “He knows you cannot help how you feel,” she reasoned.

  “Sometimes I think to die from wanting you.”

  “No. I am not such a prize.”

  He turned to her with undisguised longing in his blackened eyes. “You are all that is fair. I will never find another.”

  “If I had two of me, I would give one to you.”

  A smile lightened the sadness in his bruised face. “Impossible.”

  “Many things are not possible. Yet we wish.” She linked her arm through his. “Though there is but one of me, we can still be friends and sit together. If you are willing to risk Shoka’s wrath, I should be grateful for your company.”

  “You think I will refuse you?”

  “No. But first, take me to where my cousin is kept. I haven’t spoken with Logan yet.”

  “Becca, Wabete does not wish this, nor Shoka. Wait until we go from here.”

  “What harm can come of it?”

  “Have you hidden a knife in your petticoats to free him?”

  “Do you really think I could steal Shoka’s blade without him noticing? Just let me see Logan for a few minutes.”

  He sighed. “Speak fast.”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder in gratitude then tiptoed with him past her sleeping sister. The men sitting in small clusters among the fragrant cedars and sweet gums paid them little notice as they passed. Not far into the trees they came upon three more seated warriors keeping an eye on the captives.

  She spied two white men bound to either side of a broad maple. “Could I speak with Logan alone?”

  “Make haste. Remember, I am watching you,” Meshewa warned, and gestured her on. He remained with the guards.

  The lieutenant slumped against the tree, head nodding on his chest. He didn’t even glance up at her approach, but the younger captive turned his head like a watchful dog.

  Even in the ebbing light, she saw the resemblance Logan bore to Kate. Chestnut hair with a slight curl fell to his shoulders. Widening brown eyes lifted to hers, intriguingly flecked with gold, like her mother’s. His nose also reminded Rebecca of her mother’s, well formed with aquiline lines; it complimented his strong chin, not too angular like some in the family. Smooth-skinned and handsome, he’d escaped the ravages of smallpox and youth.

  A sprinkling of brown whiskers dusted his chin and he was larger than she’d expected, almost a young man. If he were standing, she guessed he’d be above average in height, though not as tall as Shoka. The cord looped around his chest pinned both arms to his sides and he couldn’t move.

  What different expectations she’d had of this first meeting with her kin. She wished she had the blade Meshewa feared she did and could free him.

  “Cousin Rebecca?” he asked.

  She knelt beside him on the leafy earth. “Yes.”

  “You’re every bit as bonnie as Tom said you’d be. I guess you know him as Lieutenant McClure.”

  “Yes. Thank you.” She reached for the hand Logan couldn’t lift more than a few inches and held his fingers, cooler than hers from lack of circulation. “Are you two good friends?”

  “I’ve known Tom since I was a lad. Our families are from the same neck of the woods. His younger sister, Kira, lives with my aunt and uncle now that their folks are gone.”

  Rebecca envisioned the close bonds that must exist between these hardy Scot’s settlers, so vital to survival in these harsh ridges. “Are your relations and the girl at Warden?”

  “Shouldn’t be. They have a stout stone house to fort up in.”

  “Thank God for that. I’m glad you and Lieutenant McClure have each other.”

  “Aye. It’d be a sight more unbearable tied up here without him.”

  “Ah, Logan. I never imagined we would meet as captives.”

  “I never imagined we would meet at all.”

  “You couldn’t know Kate and I were trying to reach you.”

  “What a time to choose for a journey, the middle of a bloody war.”

  “I know.” She fingered the buckskin cord wrapped around his middle. “I hate seeing you kept in this state.”

  “It could be far worse.”

  “Not for you. Shoka promised me.”

  Logan seemed puzzled. “Why should he do this?”

  “Because you are my kin, and I’ve precious few left.”

  “What is that to him?”

  “Shoka and Wabete are brothers. One will honor the other’s request.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said.

  “Shoka cares for me.”

  “I see. Your beauty serves you well.” Logan nodded at Meshewa, just visible watching them through the twilit trees. “Tom spoke of this brave’s fondness for you.”

  She flushed to her toes at what else Lieutenant McClure might have said considering the last time he saw her. Entirely too much of her. “Meshewa also, but Shoka––” She halted, reluctant to confide the truth and trigger the inevitable fury, wanting to savor a moment with Logan first.

  “Shoka cares more?” he persisted.

  There was no acceptable way to tell him other than to just plunge ahead. “He has made me his wife.”

  Logan lurched in his bonds. “Good God. Anything’s better than torture, but his wife? If only I could aid you.”

  She braced herself. “No need. I return his affection.”

  His eyes shot open in disbelief, then narrowed. “How can you care for a bloodthirsty, thieving Indian?”

  His outraged response rose well above a whisper.

  The three warriors keeping watch looked in their direction. Meshewa’s attention was already fixed on them. “For pity’s sake, Logan. Keep your voice down. Do you want everyone coming over here?”

  He whispered fiercely. “I can scarcely believe my ears. My cousin enamored with a damn savage.”

 
; “Shoka’s no savage. He speaks fluent English and reads.”

  “I don’t care if he talks like a damn lawyer. He is what he is, Rebecca.”

  She leaned in closer to him. “All the better, for your sake. His regard for me is the reason you were spared, though perhaps Wabete would have chosen to adopt you anyway.”

  “Adopt?”

  “Didn’t they tell you?” she whispered.

  “No. I’m relieved to hear it but would far rather be free.”

  “Of course you would. I haven’t the power to free you.”

  “Couldn’t you charm my captor as well and make him do your bidding?” he sniped.

  She sat back on her heels. “My charms are lost on him.”

  “Pity. Tell me, dear cousin, do you know what’s happening while I sit here trussed up like a plucked chicken?”

  “Yes. They are ill tidings. Warriors are at the fort, readying for an attack in the morning.”

  “Hell. There’s not a blessed thing I can do about it.”

  “No. But there may be something I can do.”

  “Have you any influence with the chief or that French bastard they’ve brought in?”

  “Hardly likely,” Lieutenant McClure interjected from the other side of the tree. “She cursed Black Knife and attacked Capitaine Renault. Caused quite a stir in camp.”

  Logan thumped his head against the trunk. “Good Lord.”

  She peered around at the shaded contours of the lieutenant’s face. “I suppose I’ve shocked you, as well.”

  “Always, Mrs. Elliot. Still, life is never dull with you about.” Never mind that he was lashed to a tree in the middle of an enemy encampment—he sounded amused.

  “I don’t know what to make of it all,” Logan muttered. “What kind of woman are you?”

  “One who will do whatever I must to aid my family.”

  “I believe she would. She saved my life,” Lieutenant McClure said.

  “What of her unholy regard for this savage?”

  “Despite that. And in all fairness, Shoka is unusual.”

  Logan eyed Rebecca grudgingly in what little was left of the light. “He didn’t kill me. I’ll give him that. And he kept his scar-faced brother at bay. Very well, Rebecca. I see I’m forced to trust you. What is your proposal?”