Daughters of Northern Shores

by Joanne Bischof

  Groping a hand into the pocket of his shirt, Haakon yanked out a fistful of cartridges and reloaded. When gunfire rattled the corner of the cabin, he ducked farther away. Wood and chinking splintered. Dust flew and smoke drenched the air, making it harder and harder to breathe and see.

  Within the veil of smoke, Thor rose, set his shotgun on the top stones of the well, and fired one of the largest rounds a man could shoot. The force kicked his shoulder back and tore through the clearing as two more shots cracked from the woods from where Orville and Jorgan were hunkered down. Haakon braved a look around the corner to see that another man had fallen. That was two down—one of whom looked dead.

  He hated this.

  Making it a wretched relief when the remaining Sorrels ran westward toward the far stretch of woods. Haakon aimed again, this time firing in a way meant to wound. He and his comrades weren’t here to kill. They were here to ensure arrests. Where was the sheriff? Using the light of the moon all he could, Haakon fired again. Then, with the men leaving range and nearing the safety of the trees where the rest of their menfolk had to be, he slung his gun over his shoulder. More shots cracked from where Orville and Jorgan hid.

  Haakon took the opportunity to dash for the well, which was shielded from range on the backside of the cabin. Water. Now. And lots of it. Thor had the same idea as he dipped a bucket and crammed it into Haakon’s grasp. Doing all he could not to spill the contents, Haakon kept low and ran for the back door of his cabin. It was locked so he kicked at it. The door wouldn’t budge. Haakon fired twice at the knob before Thor loosed a deep cry.

  Haakon moved clear. With one hand, Thor took aim on the doorknob and unloaded another lead slug. Haakon rushed forward, kicked the pulverized section, and the whole side broke away. Smoke wafted out. He didn’t know how quickly his home was being destroyed, but the glow of the fire showed that the lower stairs weren’t burning yet. Haakon raced forward, splashed water onto the upper steps, and turned to swap buckets with Thor. Flames clawed at the loft, the smoke burning his eyes and stinging his throat. He tossed water higher up, then ran out with his brother to refill pails.

  Their second trip inside got the flames out on the stairs, enough for Haakon to race up and check the damage while Thor went back to the well, his run hitching to a limp when he reached it. As Haakon ran upward with a bucket, he feared for the main house but decided Al and Peter would keep watch over it.

  Coughing on smoke, Haakon neared the top landing and saw that the loft was only half burned. The other half was damp, protected by Jed, whose pistol sent a bullet ripping through Haakon’s shoulder before he’d even reached the top. Haakon fell back, crashing down to his knee a few stairs from sight. Pain jarred him from end to end, but he stayed low on the wet steps, swung his rifle forward, and fired up into the smoke. Another bullet struck the wall behind him. He should have expected nothing less than such a tactic from the general. No one else was this amount of crazy.

  When his rifle clicked empty, Haakon gripped it with his left hand. Blood oozed down his arm, wetting his fingers as he gripped the barrel. With his right hand he reached for the revolver at his back. There were six rounds in the handgun, so he crept up the stairs and, keeping low, reached the top. Smoke gusted every which way, ripping the air from his lungs. He should go down. Let the fire do its work. Jed wouldn’t last much longer. But it would also mean the destruction of the cabin.

  Gritting his teeth, Haakon crushed the front of his shirt against his mouth, heaved in the best breath he could, and rose high enough to fire into the burning haze, bracing himself for an opposing bullet to his flesh. Jed was gone from sight, so Haakon rammed back the trigger, aiming at every smoke filled corner, and when the revolver clicked empty, he charged back down the stairs and rushed outside. He had no idea if Jed was down, so Haakon pressed on as he holstered the revolver. Where was Thor?

  His brother wouldn’t hear the gunfire. Did Thor know to get out of range?

  He needed to warn him. Haakon heaved for air, then grimaced as the pain in his shoulder burned like the hot lead that had torn through it. A hissing smacked the ground beside him as a shot was fired from behind. Haakon scrambled forward and, flinging a look over his shoulder, saw Jed stumble from the house. The man had a handkerchief tied around his mouth and the pistol in his hand. The latter of which was trained on Haakon as he fired again. With no cover, Haakon staggered into the dark, praying it would suffice even as his gaze tore around for sight of Thor.

  Another shot fired. Haakon couldn’t load his rifle or revolver like this. Not without time and cover. Where was the well? So thick was the smoke now, and the dark, that it was a hellish haze he was trapped in, and Jed was still firing blind.

  With a burn in his throat that wasn’t owing to smoke, Haakon crawled forward until he felt the underbrush of the woods. Having made it to cover, he scrambled over a fallen log and dropped behind it. Every movement was agony as he pulled fresh ammunition from his pocket using fingers sticky with blood. He hadn’t an endless supply of bullets, so it was only two that he chambered into his rifle. Slinking against the log, Haakon clutched the barrel to his chest to catch his breath. Smoke still gusted from the cabin, but there was enough air here in the woods to breathe by.

  Despair and darkness threatened to drown him, but something else rose up beyond it.

  A sun and a shield. That’s what the promise offered. He was unworthy, far and away, but it was extended all the same. A light in the darkness that was more than he could ever deserve. Haakon reached up with a trembling hand and gripped the pouch that dangled around his neck. The leather was soft to the touch, no crackle of leaves or clank of coins, but the little sack held as much value as it could ever carry.

  He closed his eyes, chilled from shock, and fought for consciousness. His back pressed against the coarse bark of the fallen log. He didn’t know where Thor was. Or any of the others. Were they safe? Had any of them gone down? Where was Harlan all this while? A breeze gusted past, pushing smoke in the opposite direction. Tilting his head back, Haakon heaved in the cleaner air. There were no stars overhead, only the tops of trees, all laden with drifting sparks as his cabin burned.

  Pain wrenched at his shoulder, and his vision blurred.

  What he wouldn’t give to be on a ship now. What he wouldn’t give for that kind of speed. That amount of wind in his sails. Lord knew they could use that much water.

  Haakon sucked in another breath and at the sounds of fresh gunfire lifted his head. What was happening? Shots crashed through the night one after another, popping from both directions. Amid it all, one of Thor’s slugs fired, which announced as loud as anything could have that he was alive. Haakon nearly collapsed with relief. His chest heaved as he thought of his brothers and friends still out there. They weren’t giving up, and he had no right to either. He still had two bullets in his possession. Time to make the most of them.

  Shifting around, he moved onto his stomach and searched the hazy clearing for sight of men from any side. Jed was nowhere in view. Now and again a spark flashed in the dark as a musket fired from where some of Jed’s men lay hidden. From the back of the cabin, Thor rushed out into the moonlight with two empty buckets in one hand and his shotgun in the other.

  What was he doing?

  “It’s not worth it,” Haakon called, but with focus riveted elsewhere, Thor couldn’t see him. “Thor!” He knew better than to shout at his brother, but a different kind of instinct was taking over. One to protect him.

  Though it would blow his cover, Haakon stumbled to his feet and waved his good arm overhead. Thor spotted him and to Haakon’s relief took stock of who it was without taking aim. Ducking low again, Haakon lumbered toward him, pointing to the center of his rifle as he did. He flashed two fingers for the amount of rounds he had left. Thor dug in the pocket of his shirt and pulled out three .44 Rimfires. He handed them over.

  “What about you?”

  Blinking quickly, Thor shook his head in that way he did when he could
n’t understand. His face was filthy and sweat slid down his forehead. Thor wiped a sleeve over his eyes and blinked at Haakon again in desperation.

  Haakon rammed a finger to his brother’s chest and pointed to the bullets again.

  Thor tapped the barrel of his shotgun that was still strapped over his shoulder. L-O-A-D-E-D. Then he knocked the Colt holstered at his hip that used these same .44s as Haakon’s rifle. Thor fingerspelled that his revolver was also loaded, and with that assurance, Haakon snatched the ammunition from Thor’s sooty palm and crammed them into his rifle.

  All was quiet again. He wanted to shout for Jorgan and Peter to know that they were all right. Al and Orville too. But there was only one way to find out. Haakon thumbed back toward where the others should be, and Thor nodded.

  Crouched low, they picked their way in that direction, taking care to stay close to the wood line and out of the shadows that the moon made. While not a strong glow, it was enough to detect the shape of a moving body. Smoke singed the air thicker now, which had Haakon glance back to the cabin, expecting it to collapse, but flames no longer glowed. Instead, smoke seeped from the building as it did when its fuel was well soaked. Thor’s doing.

  Hope and gratitude pulsed inside him even as Haakon trained his eyes on the meadow and surrounding areas for any sign of movement. When they reached the portion of woods where they’d all parted ways, he cut deeper into the trees, taking just yards before he sank down. Thor did the same. Gripping his shoulder, Haakon pulled them nearer to one another so Thor would see him mouth the words in the near blackness.

  “You go in search of Jorgan and Orville,” he whispered. “I’ll look for Al and Peter.”

  Thor nodded once, gripped the side of Haakon’s head, and gave a firm squeeze. Haakon stumbled away, holding onto every shred of hope that he’d see that calm, courageous face again.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  JUNE 2, 1895

  WHITETOP MOUNTAIN, VIRGINIA

  WHEN A TINY HEAD OF SILKEN HAIR WRIGGLED against her own, Aven looked over to see Tusie stirring amid the bundle of blankets they shared in the night. Tusie was unswaddled now, but well warmed in her linen nightdress and this snug cabin. While much of the floor was covered in blankets and slumbering people, the Kennedys had welcomed them with open arms and a cheery spirit. With Mr. Kennedy bunked down in an outbuilding to make room for all the women and children he housed, Aven unbuttoned the top of her nightgown and pulled Tusie close to nurse with no fear of immodesty.

  The early hour of morning was lifting the darkness to a soft, gray light as she nestled a light blanket around them, creating a cove of warmth. With six hours of travel and a bustling night of settling in behind them, Aven closed her eyes and nearly drifted off again.

  In the quiet of her heart, she thought of Thor and the dangers he and the other men were facing. Were they well? Had they confronted the Sorrels? Aven whispered a prayer that had become one of many in the night.

  At the sound of stirring coals, she looked over to see Mrs. Kennedy adding fresh wood to low embers. The young bride smiled at Aven as if having known she and the baby were awake.

  “Don’t let me disturb you.” Scarcely nineteen, Mrs. Kennedy’s voice was gentle as she pushed a brown braid back over her shoulder. “I’ve just come to put the kettle on. I’ll have hot tea and coffee ready before long.”

  Aven felt a swell of emotions rise up. Though so simple an offering, the gesture was anything but. This woman and her husband had welcomed them in with scant warning, and yet their hospitality showed no end. Mrs. Kennedy even gave up her bed in the small bedroom to Cora, Ida, and Georgie. Tess slumbered on the floor beside it, and out here in the main room, Fay and the boys were asleep amid mounds of blankets and quilts. Dear Sibby had slumbered on a padded window seat while Mrs. Kennedy had dozed in a rocking chair.

  After slipping an arm beneath the baby to support her weight, Aven cradled Tusie close and sat up some. “We cannot thank you enough for your kindness, Mrs. Kennedy.”

  “It’s our pleasure. But please, call me Wren.” Smiling, the young woman’s manner was as gentle as her woodland namesake. She angled an iron pot closer to the flames and reached aside for a wooden spoon. “Fret not, for in truth Haakon sent along funds to secure extra provisions, and his message lent me yesterday to borrow extra bedding from neighbors.” She winked. “Since his return from sea, my husband has spoken much of your brother-in-law and their adventures together. It’s a joy to meet his family.”

  Aven smiled. She could only imagine how colorful life had been alongside Haakon amid the distant shores and tides of foreign places. “The pleasure is ours.” She regretted knowing little of this man, Tate Kennedy. Aven hadn’t inquired of Haakon’s years at sea or considered where he’d been. Lord willing, there was still time to discover such.

  On the wagon ride to the train station, Sibby had informed them that with the sheriff’s help, the men planned to confront the Sorrels once and for all. At wondering how the men would find the Sorrels in the first place, Sibby confessed that Haakon had devised a carefully thought-out plan to lure them to the farm. While Aven didn’t know what that would entail, she prayed that the men would take care. For her husband to be among them made the prayers all the more fraught with longing. As much as Aven desired freedom and a future for her daughter, to think of it being at the loss of their life with Tusie’s father was a grief she couldn’t begin to bear.

  Haakon hadn’t meant to slumber, but having hunkered down beneath a rotting log to try and staunch the flow of blood from his shoulder, he’d closed his eyes just briefly as pain pulled him in and out of consciousness. He’d risen to a dark sky yet, so hadn’t been gone to the world for long. He struggled to his feet, and though his stomach clenched for food, he continued his search for Al and Peter. Were Jorgan and Orville still safe on the ridge? Had Thor found the others yet? Haakon strode through the tail end of night, each quarter hour graver than the one before as his search proved empty.

  All was so quiet and still that he wondered if others were asleep. He didn’t want to imagine any other purpose for the silence.

  Perhaps all the men in these woods knew there wasn’t much sense in firing at one another in the dark. Daylight would not only make aiming more efficient but twice as deadly. As much as Haakon longed for the sun, he wished it away all the same.

  He kept to the trees, and soon dawn woke on the horizon, hazed by indigo clouds and lingering smoke. Still there came no sign of them. Haakon scanned the woods around him for any signals of life. If his men had scattered, they could be anywhere. Gun at the ready, he traipsed through underbrush and with each step prayed he’d come upon his men in one piece.

  Suddenly two shots fired. Not from the woods on either side of the meadow, but from the cidery toward the house, judging by the spray of dirt just shy of the front porch. Haakon didn’t know who was firing at whom, but if one of his men needed help, he’d be there.

  Ducking low, he trekked back toward the farmyard. The dark and his searching had blown him well off course, and now that light was lifting, he realized just how much ground he’d finally made up. One of the windows of the great house was smashed in and another raised halfway. At the edge of the trees, Haakon crouched and searched the open yard where Bjørn’s wooden blocks still lay scattered beside Sigurd’s forgotten wooden sword.

  It was a good hundred feet from here to the house. Haakon glanced around. How many of Peter’s kin were still out there? At least several, and whoever had broken into the house might have had company. It was foolhardy to go in by himself, but if the Klansmen were on a mission to torch another building, he couldn’t stay here and watch. Haakon was deciding how best to approach the structure when the front door opened with a clatter.

  Al stumbled out. His hands were raised and a man strutted behind him, pressing the tip of a pistol to the back of his head.

  “It’s empty!” Al hollered, and the moment he did, the man beat the pistol across his skull.

 
Al fell and struggled to stumble away. The other man pulled a knife and rushed after him. Still crouched low, Haakon raised his rifle and centered the bead sight on its target. His finger flew to the trigger, but a split second before he pulled it, a handgun blasted from somewhere else, and the man dropped, groaning. A second round fired, and the Sorrel stilled.

  Al ducked as he ran for the woods. Wanting to be seen, Haakon stood, and Al raced that way. Cora’s son sank behind a tree, soaked in sweat and heaving for air. It glistened on his skin, and blood matted his coarse hair to the side of his scalp.

  Haakon knelt and yanked out a handkerchief. “What happened?”

  Al pressed it to the side of his head. “I was searchin’ the house when they outnumbered me.”

  Haakon scanned the cidery where those two shots had come from. “What of Peter?”

  “I think that was him who just fired.”

  “Have you seen Jorgan and Orville?”

  “No.”

  “The others?”

  “Nothing.”

  Haakon shifted a leg forward, trying not to collapse with pain and exhaustion. Panic was keeping him upright just now. It was starting to terrify him that no one had seen Jorgan. “How many are left inside?”

  “I think there’s only one of ’em now. Two are down in the meadow, and I think Orville might have gotten another from where he’s hunkered down.”

  “Who’s in the house?”

  “Peter’s pa. They’ve used up all their ammo. There wasn’t even a bullet in that pistol. The fella was just usin’ me as a decoy to get back to cover. He sounded like he wanted to split. That’s the only reason I made it back out. That other fella got a hold of me and told me to start walkin’.”

  Haakon blew out a heavy breath. For Al to have risked his life like that . . .