Authors: Janet Cooper
As Wolf mounted his stallion, his grandfather said, "
Kitanito wet
go with you."
"And with you," Wolf replied
. As he rode, Sarah's image penetrated his mind. If anything happened to her, she would never know that he loved her. The idea was unthinkable. He spurred his stallion on.
* * * *
The sun barely topped the trees as
Sarah stopped a short distance from the inn and tied her horse to a thick branch of a fir-tree. Beyond the grove of closely knit pines stood the tavern and from the this side, she could scarcely see the inn. Still, she moved carefully through the underbrush, using the fattest trees for protection and cover. Every now and then, her skirt caught on a briar stem. She silently cursed her colonial garb, wishing for a pair of jeans.
She heard men's voices shouting and swearing before she reached the clearing that surrounded the tavern
. Using the massive trunk of a beech tree as a blind, she surveyed the area; off to her left, in a clearing and at least five feet from the wall of the barn, stood Daniel. They had tied him to a fence post and stripped his shirt off his back. Even from this distance, Sarah saw stripes of red marring his flesh. His head hung loosely. A cry of distress gripped her, but she swallowed the sound for in the center of the pasture four soldiers sat gulping ale and munching loaves of bread. The curses and oaths they jokingly bantered between mouthfuls would have made even a 21st Century woman's face flame. Now, she scarcely heard them. She searched for her father, but failed to see him. Nor could she find Mistress Westcoat. Her stomach tightened in fear for their safety.
She gathered her skirt and ran quietly to the rear wall of the inn, keeping pace with the pounding in her heart
. After waiting for a moment to be sure no one had seen her, she put her hands on the sill and pulled herself up. Hastily, she glanced in the window, but saw only the empty tavern room.
Now what?
she thought, as concern for her father and Mistress Westcoat grew.
Steeling her nerves,
Sarah eased around the side of the tavern, keeping as close to the gray cedar siding as possible. When she reached the corner, she peeked around then immediately drew back.
The fat, red-headed corporal sat on the railing; his bottom spread across the top of the wide board and even hung over several inches
. Stone cold fear raked its icy claws across her skin. Her thoughts turned to Wolf, and she remembered how he had shot an arrow into one of those large bulging cheeks. The idea of throwing her knife into one of his beefy buttocks tempted her, but what would she do afterwards?
Daring another glance, she searched the area directly in front of the tavern
. Beneath the large oak tree sat Benjamin and Mistress Westcoat tied together, back to back. Neither appeared hurt, but, with only a few moments to study them, Sarah could only hope and pray. Over their heads and off to the left, a rope with a noose hung swinging in the light breeze. She shivered at the sight. As she stepped back, trying to decide what do to, hands grabbed her from behind.
"Well, well," said a gruff, English voice
.
Sarah
twisted and squirmed, struggling to break free. She kicked. Thud. Her foot connected with a hard shin.
"Damn you, slut!"
The man wrenched her arms, and pain coursed through her elbows and shoulders.
"I'll break 'em," he warned when she tried to yank away
.
She had no doubt that he would and, for the moment, ceased fighting
.
"Walk!"
He prodded her forward. As they rounded the corner, he called, "Look who I found."
The corporal's head turned slowly
. An evil grin spread across his ugly face. "Well, well now, we can have some real fun."
A perverted leer lit his gaze and made
Sarah's mouth go dry with terror. Why had she not listened to White Owl? Why had she left Long Meadow?
The corporal heaved himself to a stand with difficulty
. "I wasn't looking forward to fudderin' that old dried out piece of meat …" He indicated Mistress Westcoat with a jerk of his head. "But I've been lookin' forward to slippin' into your warm, silky puddin' for weeks."
He edged closer with each filthy word
. With surprising gentleness, he rubbed the pads of his fleshy fingertips across Sarah's cheek, yet his touch froze her insides.
"Can we have her when you're done?" the soldier who held her asked
.
"By the time I finish with her, she'll be stretched enough for a wagon to slide inside," he chuckled grimly
.
Sarah
's knees weakened.
"If you still want her then, she's yours
." The corporal grabbed a hank of hair and yanked Tears came to her eyes.
"That was your first lesson in pleasurin'," he roared with amusement, and his men joined in
.
"Don't touch her!" Benjamin called
.
Sarah
looked at him. "Father, don't worry. I will be fine." Although a blatant lie, she refused to allow the corporal to see how afraid she was.
He caught her chin with his meaty fist and lowered his lips to hers
. His wet, slimy tongue thrust into her mouth. Sarah resisted the urge to vomit and instead bit his tongue …hard.
"Agh!" He jerked away
then slapped her cheek with enough force to make her ears ring.
Sarah
's head snapped. The pain shot through her and she groaned. Her legs buckled and she would have fallen, but his hand still firmly gripped her hair.
Big Bottom spit blood from his mouth then raised his hand again
. Before he could connect with Sarah's face, an arrow sliced a strip of flesh from the meaty side of his palm. His scream pierced the air, and he released his hold on her then stared at the flayed skin.
Sarah
twisted away. She started to run, but the corporal grabbed the back of her bodice with his uninjured hand and yanked her in front of him.
"Davis, point your musket at her
. If another arrow lands, kill her." The corporal chuckled unpleasantly. "Fire anytime," He called out to his unseen attacker."…if you dare."
His men guffawed
.
Wolf swore silently
. He could have killed Big Bottom, but Sarah's body had shielded the corporal's vital parts. With the private training his Brown Bess on Sarah, wounding Big Bottom would accomplish nothing.
The four other soldiers had grabbed their muskets and stood in the center of the field
. They formed an irregular square. Each man searched the area around them. Wolf used the giant tulip poplar as protection so none could see him.
How l
ong could he hold them at bay? And how long would it take for Jeremiah and his men to arrive?
"Looks like a stand-off," Wolf called
.
"I don't know," Big Bottom said
. "Stern, Case, move closer to the Quaker and the old woman. Focus your muskets on them." As Wolf prepared to lose an arrow at the soldiers, the corporal added, "If you shoot, we'll kill them all, starting with the pretty one."
Wolf might get a few shots and kill some of the British, but
Sarah would die. He pulled down his bow, furious at his inability to change the odds.
"Underwood, come bind up my hand," called the fat man
. "Lang, cover the lad."
Frustration filled Wolf as he watched the soldiers take their new positions
. Perhaps he could taunt the Corporal into making a foolish move.
"How's your ass, Big Bottom?" Wolf called sarcastically
. "Of course, with a target as large as yours, even an amateur would have difficulty missing." Wolf chuckled mockingly.
The British corporal's face matched his red hair
. "When we capture you, Indian, instead of just hanging, you'll be drawn and quartered in payment for that arrow."
With more confidence than the situation deserved, Wolf said, "I'm free, and your men are easy targets
. Still looks like a stand-off to me."
"Stand-off?
You damn fool. Surrender, or they all die." The corporal grinned evilly.
Sarah
looked in Wolf's direction. Her facial expression showed no emotion, but she stood straight and tall. Her defiant stance made Wolf proud of her. Somehow, he would save her. Once she was free, he would confess his love. He must succeed.
"Before you can murder all your captives, I can kill a few of your men
, beginning with you, Big Bottom. So, why should I come in?" Wolf jeered.
"We got the women, the old man and the lad
. You got nothing but a quiver of arrows and no targets." Although his words were true, they sounded less than confident.
"If you free them, I'll yield," Wolf said, striving to find a way to rescue the captives
.
"Four for one
." The corporal snickered. "Never!"
"Let the women go
. I'll throw down my weapons and surrender."
"No, Wolf," shouted
Sarah. Fear showed in her words and face.
"Sounds like the Quaker lass cares for you
." Big Bottom's arm encircled Sarah's neck. "Did you make her your squaw, Indian?"
Wolf's anger raged, but he tightened the reins on his emotions
. He needed cool logic, not hot fury. He cleared his mind and thought. If he could kill a few of the soldiers, he would improve his negotiation position, yet he saw no way to do that without placing Sarah's life in jeopardy.
"Tell you what," the corporal said
. "You walk out, and we'll let the little Quaker lady go."
"Let her go first
."
The fat man shook his head
. "And let the odds improve in your favor? Ha!"
"Release her and let her put a few paces between you and your men
. Then I'll surrender." Only silence followed. Wolf's palm sweated as he waited.
Sarah
kept her eyes trained in Wolf's direction.
Finally, Big Bottom said, "Deal
. But remember, we'll kill the others if you don't come in unarmed."
"I believe you
." Wolf had no option. He must save Sarah's life, because without her he would be a half-filled vessel. Reluctantly, he dropped his bow and quiver of arrows then he hid his knife behind his back. Slowly, he stepped out from behind the tree and started forward at a snail's pace. He must give Jeremiah and his men as much time as possible to arrive.
"Damn Indian," the corporal said as he pushed
Sarah away. He whispered to his man, but she strained her ears to hear. "When her 'hero' approaches, grab her, and we'll have all of them." The soldier laughed cruelly.
Sarah
picked up her skirt and dashed toward the tavern. As she ran, she glanced at Wolf and yelled, "Don't trust the corporal."
He nodded, but kept his eyes focused on the British
.
She must reach her father's Pennsylvania hunting rifle that hung over the mantel
. She prayed Benjamin kept it primed. If not, she would lose precious seconds loading it, if she remembered how and had enough time. If she could not do that, she would try and bluff the British.
"Let's hang the Indian first," shouted the corporal
.
These words froze the blood in her veins, but added speed to her legs
. The door to the tavern stood open. She charged in prepared to pull the Pennsylvania hunting rifle off the wall. Before she could grasp it, she heard footsteps charging up the outside wooden steps. Sarah slid her hand in her pocket, pulled out her knife and flipped open the large blade. Whirling around, she faced the British soldier. "Don't come any closer, or I'll kill you."
Startled, he hesitated
then glanced at her hand. "With that puny weapon? Ha!" He started forward.
Sarah
knew if he got his hands on her, she would never stop him nor wound him. If she failed, Wolf and all her family would die. She had no choice. The knife flew from her hand and imbedded itself in the man's neck.
Blood rushed from his throat
. He grabbed for the handle, but before he could touch it, he toppled to the floor.
Nausea threatened to overwhelm her
. Whether he was dead or not, she had no time to check. She drew her gaze away from the horrible sight, whipped around, and yanked the rifle off the mantle.
With difficulty, she cradled the wooden stock under her arm and pointed the long metal barrel forward
. Sarah had heard the leader's command to hang Wolf. She would not have time to check to see if the rifle was loaded. Carefully avoiding the body, she ran to the doorway, stepped out and aimed her weapon at the big man in charge.
"Stop!
Don't move." Her appearance obviously startled him for he stared at her in disbelief.