by Ron Ripley
“What happened?” the Reverend asked.
“Patience said she saw a dog,” Oliver explained.
Several groans rose up from the gathered men, and Reverend Ezekiel shook his head.
“Just the one?” Daniel asked.
“Yes,” Oliver explained.
“One is all it takes,” Adam Hawkins said. “We all know the Micmacs have brought the beasts on raids before. It should be no surprise that they might do so again.”
There were mutters of agreement.
“Will we not have time to go to our homes?” Harold Roan asked.
“I would not advise it,” Oliver said. “We have no knowledge as to when they might attack. Any who left the garrison would have to fend for themselves, should the attack fall while they were out.”
The thought was chilling, and silence greeted Oliver's statement.
“I have no doubt,” Oliver continued, “that the attack will begin soon. We must prepare ourselves. We can do no more, and no less.”
“Agreed,” the Reverend said. “Get the shot and the powder ready. We will keep watch through the night, and we will eat well to keep up our strength. We shall pray as well, for our spirits must be as firm as our flesh.”
Oliver nodded his agreement and turned away from the others. He walked to the door, made certain it was latched, and then traveled through the crowd to the rear door. This one, though thick, was smaller than the main entrance. Its hinges were weaker.
And Oliver felt uneasy as he looked at it.
Part of him desired to bar it, but he knew they needed it, should the Indians break through the front.
He shivered at the idea of it.
Oliver was no stranger to war, having fought as a young man to return the crown of England to Charles II. He was no friend to war either. He had seen butchery and waded through the wreckage men made of one another's flesh.
Oliver would do what was needed to protect his family, and his life.
Even though the idea of it churned his stomach.
Clutching his gun in his hand, Oliver returned to the front of the house, sat down against the wall, and waited for night to fall.
Bonus Scene Chapter 4: Waiting in Anticipation
Patience had fallen asleep without any concerns or worries. When she awoke, it was to the sound of snoring and her mother's arm wrapped around her. Mary slept on the other side of Patience, and someone laughed in their sleep.
With care, Patience freed herself of her mother's protective embrace and sat up.
No one else on the second floor was awake.
Mothers embraced their youngest children and the room stank of sweat, fear, and human waste. No one could leave the garrison for fear of an attack, which meant the chamber pots would fill far too quickly. Their contents would be thrown outside in a ditch when the situation presented itself, or dumped unceremoniously through the murder holes.
Once Broken Nose and his men attacked, far worse substances would exit the garrison via those holes. Boiling water and hot ash would be used against the Micmacs who reached the house’s walls.
Patience found herself wondering how the battle might progress. How soon would Broken Nose and his men breach the walls? For she had no doubt that they would, and that she would fulfill her glorious potential.
Broken Nose had spoken to her about what he had seen. Her serving at his side, powerful and strong. No longer would she have to listen to her family. Or the Reverend. Or anyone except Broken Nose, and that would not be a burden for she knew her place was beside him.
Patience had dreamed of him after their first meeting, months before. In that dream, she had felt a sense of power, a sense of control she had never known in her father’s house, or in the House of God. A few days later she had seen Broken Nose again, at the edge of the pasture.
The medicine man had been alone, and when he saw her, he had asked if she had dreamt of power. When she admitted that she had, Broken Nose informed her he had dreamt of the same.
Together, he had told her, they would defeat death itself.
And Patience had seen enough of death. At birth, she had been a twin, but on her seventh birthday, her sister, Elizabeth had died. A single blow from their father’s hand had killed her, leaving Patience without her beloved sister.
No one in town had spoken to her father about his actions. Her mother did not confront him about Elizabeth’s death. Their siblings had remained silent.
Patience hated them all for it.
Patience stood up and stretched before she took a careful step over her mother. Patience's bare foot found a clear place on the floor, and from there she took another step. Picking her way through the sleeping forms, Patience reached one of the windows. Standing up on her tiptoes, she peered out through the cross-shaped firing slot to stare at the recently cleared field.
Her eyes sought out the darkest places, lingering at each one for a moment before moving along.
Soon she spotted the first brave. Then the second, and the third. Others followed suit as they crept out of the trees and moved with caution across the open field. Several took up positions behind downed trunks. The barrels of guns were rested upon the wood. A few continued to advance, armed with tomahawks and war clubs.
Patience knew they would seek to break through the door, and she listened. She strained to hear anything, and then a shout caused her to jump in surprise.
The warning came from the first floor and a heartbeat later it was followed by the crash of guns being fired. None of the shots found a target and while the defenders reloaded, a pair of Micmacs broke into a sprint.
In a heartbeat, they were out of sight, but Patience could hear them hammering at the door. Wood splintered, and another shot rang out. This was followed by a scream of rage, and both of the attackers fell back, one of them bleeding profusely in the moonlight.
“Patience!” her mother gasped, and Patience wrenched her eyes away from the battle. "Away from the window, Child!"
Patience hid her irritation and returned to her mother’s side. All of the others on the second floor had awoken, pressing closer to the room’s center.
Soon, Patience consoled herself as she sat down in her mother’s broad lap. I will see the fighting soon.
Beyond the walls and out of sight, the battle continued.
Bonus Scene Chapter 5: Trapped in the House
Oliver was exhausted.
The Micmacs had attacked an hour before dawn, carrying on the fight until mid-day before they slipped back into the trees. A lively debate had sprung up among the men about seeking help. Especially since the size of the raiding force was much larger than any of them, including Oliver, had anticipated.
Oliver believed they could hold out against the Micmacs, but many of the others didn’t have the same faith in their abilities. Yet Oliver also knew that the Indians lacked the discipline for a prolonged attack.
Daniel had agreed with him, but the Hawkins brothers had been vocal in their disagreement. Sixty-two Indians had been counted, which meant that it was more than one tribe taking part in the attack.
There was the chance that the Micmacs might not withdraw after a few days of heated battle.
“I’ll make for the garrison at Reach,” Adam Hawkins said.
The anxious mutters which had filled the room ceased and Oliver turned to face the younger man.
“It is a poor decision,” Reverend Ezekiel said.
“It is a decision,” Adam stated. “I know the woods well from here to Reach. I would risk it. We’ll not hold out for long. Not against so many.”
Daniel snorted and turned away.
“Who will go with you?” Oliver asked.
“No one,” Adam answered. “I know the danger, Oliver. My chances of contacting the garrison will increase if I travel alone.”
“You’re sentencing yourself to death,” Ezekiel said, shaking his head.
“My life is not my own, Reverend,” Adam retorted. “Of all people, you should know this.”<
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There were several gasps of surprise and the Reverend’s face went flush. Ezekiel, his lips pressed together, turned and walked away.
Adam handed his gun to his brother, Luke.
“You won’t bring it?” Harold Roan asked in surprise.
Adam looked at him and shook his head. “A tomahawk and knife will be all I need for weapons. Two days’ worth of food as well.”
“When will you leave?” Luke asked.
“Dusk,” Adam answered. “When they attack.”
Oliver gave the young man a hard look.
“Hawkins,” Oliver said, “that’s a death sentence.”
“Then so be it,” Adam replied, and walked away with his brother.
“It is his choice,” Daniel said after a moment of silence and as the group separated. Some men would sleep, others would keep watch.
Oliver and Daniel stepped over to the North wall and sat down. Above them Oliver could hear the women trying to keep the children calm, to help them focus on things other than the Micmacs in the forest.
“We need his gun,” Oliver grumbled. “And his strength should they break in.”
“All will fight if such an event occurs,” Daniel said. “We are doing what we can, Oliver.”
Oliver nodded. “I know. I am afraid it may not be enough.”
“We may suffer casualties,” Daniel added. “Yet we cannot worry about what we cannot control. God, in His wisdom, will choose for us, as He always has.”
Oliver sighed. “It is not a comforting thought, my friend.”
“No,” Daniel agreed. “It rarely is.”
The two men became silent, and Oliver rested his head against the wall. He closed his eyes and listened to the bustle of the garrison house. The smell of a bone broth soup filled his nose, and a small smile played across his lips as his stomach groaned with anticipation.
Oliver said a quick prayer of thanks for the safety provided by the garrison and a plea that all of them would survive the attack.
Oliver yawned, crossed his arms over his chest, and held his gun tightly. The comforting sounds of the garrison served as a lullaby, and soon Oliver had fallen asleep, forgetting, if ever so briefly, that death lurked in the forest.
Bonus Scene Chapter 6: Hiding in the Woodpile
Adam Hawkins was a small man, wiry and strong. His brother opened the back door enough for Adam to squeeze out, crawling like a snake through the summer grass. Adam crept forward, inch by inch. The sun beat down on him, but he ignored it. He made his way towards a small pile of branches which would offer little protection, and thus, he hoped, would be ignored by the Micmacs.
The sun had moved towards noon by the time Adam reached the branches, and he settled in against it. Ants and small insects crawled across his skin, moving down into his clothes to nip at his flesh. Adam narrowed his eyes, focusing on the woods rather than the creatures biting him.
He dozed off, waking up as a cool breeze caressed his cheek. Adam searched the far tree line and saw dark men in the shadows.
The Micmacs had gathered, preparing for the attack.
Adam was nearly thirty feet away from the rear door. A Micmac could cut him down with a thrown tomahawk, a shot from a musket, or if they were close enough, a knife.
And that was if he was lucky. If God didn’t smile down upon him, then Adam knew the Indians would take him back to camp. Once there, they would entertain themselves by causing him pain, and, if the stories were true, they would dine on his flesh.
Adam forced his mind to focus on the task at hand and watched the Micmacs sneak out of the tree line. Their movements were the stuff of nightmares. The men, silent as they moved, as if the earth itself swallowed up their sounds. Most of the Indians were halfway across the cleared field before someone in the garrison recognized the danger.
Musket fire erupted from the building's windows, and the Indians raced past Adam. Once their feet had thundered by, Adam leaped up and sprinted towards the forest.
Something struck his right arm, spinning Adam around and sending him to the ground. Blood leaked from the wound and Adam recognized that he had been shot. He got up, staggered into the tree line and looked back at the battle.
The Micmacs were battering against the house, a pair of them trying to wrench the shutter off of a window. Yet there were none running towards Adam, which meant it was not one of the Indians who had shot him.
Idiots, Adam thought, directing his anger toward the garrison and his neighbors. He dug a ragged piece of cloth out of his pack and tied it around the wound, stemming the flow of blood as much as possible. With that done, Adam stepped deeper into the forest. He didn’t need to stay along any game trails. Adam knew the land better than anyone and Reach was much closer than it had been earlier in the morning.
Gritting his teeth, Adam ignored the pain in his arm and the disturbing noises of the fight behind him.
Bonus Scene Chapter 7: Four Days
Food had grown scarce. Tempers had begun to flare.
Daniel Pratt had been killed, as had Harold Roan. Others were wounded and the garrison stank of human waste. Haggard men kept watch at the windows, staring into the night and waiting for the next attack by Broken Nose’s men.
Patience was thrilled with all of it, though she was distressed with the tenacity of her neighbors and her kin.
She needed to help Broken Nose if she were to be with him and free of her family.
Free from their weakness.
She moved away from the chamber pot and stepped around and over the sleepers. The stairs were on the East wall, and no one was near them.
“Patience,” Jonathan hissed.
She snapped her head around to look at him.
Her younger brother rubbed sleep from his eyes and asked in a whisper, “Where are you going?”
“Downstairs,” Patience whispered back. “I must speak with Reverend Ezekiel.”
Jonathan cringed at the mention of Ezekiel's name, as she knew he would. Her younger brother was afraid of the stern man, and the mere mention of Ezekiel's name would keep Jonathan where he should be.
Without another word, Jonathan lay back down beside their mother, and Patience continued on her way to the stairs. She resisted the urge to see if anyone watched her, and then descended to the main floor.
She hadn’t set foot there since the Micmacs had started their attack. The first floor had been the sole domain of the men and older boys, taking turns at the windows and doors. Defending the garrison.
And upsetting both hers, and Broken Nose’s plans.
Patience crept to the back door, hesitating and staring at Luke Hawkins. The young man was in the small alcove, weapon resting against his side. Around the rest of the room men slept, a few were awake and at their posts. Their faces remained fixed on the world beyond the garrison’s walls.
She licked her lips nervously, not quite certain how to open the door without disturbing Luke.
As she pulled on a lock of hair, she heard a soft, faint sound. For a moment she strained her ears, and then she smiled.
Luke Hawkins was snoring.
Creeping forward on silent feet, Patience slipped by him, found the cold metal of the door’s latch, and pulled it back.
Bonus Scene Chapter 8: Betrayal
A high pitched scream shattered Oliver’s meager sleep. He staggered to his feet with all of the abhorrent grace of a drunk, and in the flickering light of the central fire, saw that the Micmacs had entered the garrison.
Indians spilled into the room, falling with blood-curdling cries onto the men folk. Others thundered up the stairs, and in seconds the terrified shrieks of women and children joined the cacophony.
Oliver picked up his gun, turning it in his hands to use it as a club. Within seconds, it was knocked from his hands, and he was beaten on the head by a huge Indian.
It took only a moment for Oliver to understand what was going to happen.
He struggled, biting at hands and legs. His attempts to escape were
mere exercises in futility, and soon his arms were bound behind his back with strips of cloth. He was dragged outside where his world imploded upon him.
The medicine man, Broken Nose – a member of the False Face Society – stood beside a fire that several men were coaxing into life. Shadows danced on the harsh edges of the medicine man's grotesque mask.
Yet it wasn’t the presence of Broken Nose that caused Oliver’s mind to go numb.
It was Patience.
Oliver’s youngest daughter.
She sat in Broken Nose’s arms, watching over the chaos with a look of pure satisfaction. When her eyes found Oliver, she smiled and nodded.
Before Oliver could respond, someone struck him in the back of the head and darkness overwhelmed him.
Bonus Scene Chapter 9: The Return to Williamstown
Adam Hawkins’s journey to Reach and the militia had been a test of both stamina and courage. What would have cost him two days' worth of travel before the attack, cost him four. He was ambushed once by a pair of Micmacs, and he had slain them both, their scalps drying on his belt when he obtained the safety of the militia.
The return trip was much quicker as he was at the head of thirty men and astride a large horse.
Yet the Micmacs had done what both Adam and his brother had feared.
They had breached the walls of Reverend Ezekiel's home, and the result had been horrific.
Each member of Williamstown, regardless of age or gender, had been slain. Their bodies were stacked like cordwood along the eastern wall of the house.
All of them except Patience, Oliver’s daughter.
She, like everyone else, was dead. Her body was seated by the remains of a large bonfire, a blanket wrapped around her.
The Reach Militia came to a stop twenty feet away from the corpses. Adam dismounted and walked forward to the girl’s small body. Her eyes stared past him, unseeing.
