5
Before Skenan left to go back over their trail and erase it, he had told her he would climb up to where there was a growth of pine trees above them. He had told her he hoped to find a few good branches amongst those trees to act as a cushion for her bed. Then, leaving both his red sash and his deerskin shirt for her in order to take away the chill, he left.
He soon returned, carrying a few pine branches in his arms. Setting them down, he said, “I must not make a fire here in the cave yet because the scent could bring an enemy to us. These branches and my shirt should help to keep you warm enough until I return.”
“I thank you very much, Mr. Skenan.”
He grinned at her lopsidedly before he inclined his head, saying, “I go now. You sleep.”
She looked long at his smile, unable to take her gaze away from him. He looked young and quite handsome in the dim lighting of the cave. And, though she was inclined to like him, her feelings for him seemed beyond the mere enchantment of him having saved her life this day.
Dear Lord, it did, indeed, seem to her as if she were becoming more than a little enraptured with this man. Glancing away from him, at last, she murmured, “I will try, Mr. Skenan. I will try.”
And, then he was gone.
After he left, she felt very alone and wished she had offered to accompany him on his purpose to erase their trail. It seemed, then, natural when a realization came to her without bells or whistles or any fanfare at all: without Skenan’s presence beside her, helping her this day, she would have been found and returned to the inn, where her life would have been miserable…if she would have even lived.
She was in this young man’s debt, and the sense of obligation to him weighed her down. All at once, her attraction to him seemed to diminish under the debt she knew she now owed him.
She prayed, “Dear Lord, help me to find a way I might bring this man aid. I owe it to him.”
Looking around the cave, she saw it was dark and, also, it was frightening. But, at least when she looked forward toward the opening of the cave, she could see it gave her a good view of the outside world; although, she could see nothing out there, either. She chewed at her lower lip, the action instinctive.
And, as she paused, her worries came easily back to mind. What would she have done if Skenan hadn’t come upon her? What if Mr. Wilson hadn’t sent him to find her and guide her safely to Fort Stanwix?
Unfortunately, she knew exactly what would have happened. She would have been caught, would have been dragged back to the inn, there to await whatever punishment Miss Stockenridge would have deemed necessary. Abagail shivered, but with a good bit of will, she brought her mind back to the present and away from the “what if’s.”
The cave felt cold and wet, and her dress, being quite threadbare, caused her to shiver in the chill of the night air. Taking hold of Skenan’s shirt, she wrapped it around her shoulders, and found, by doing so, she seemed to be instantly better. Perhaps it was because it was his garment which gave her the confidence to simply sit here and wait for him, or perhaps it was his scent upon the clothing which reminded her of him and his rescue of her.
Although he had bid her to sleep, she knew she couldn’t do it. She was frightened, she was worried about him and she feared he might get caught by an enemy. After all, if he were going back over their trail, it meant he was putting himself into danger. What if he didn’t return? What if he were caught and killed? And she, having not even the good sense to have wished him a kindly “Godspeed” as he’d left.
“Dear Lord,” she prayed, “keep Mr. Skenan safe and bring him back here. He is a good man, and I…and I do not know what I would have done without him…or what I will do if he does not return. Please, dear Lord, bring him into the safety of your arms as he embarks upon his intent to erase our trail from the land.”
Keeping Skenan’s shirt around her shoulders, she came to stand up, and then she began to step around the cave. Somewhere in the back of the cave was water, perhaps even another waterfall. She could hear it.
She began pacing toward the sound of the water, when she turned around suddenly and then breathed out a sigh of relief. She could still see the cave’s opening. So black was it within this cavern, she had worried for a moment that she might not be able to see her way back to the opening of the den.
Plus, not being able to see anything at all except blackness, she might have come to some mishap. Quickly, she retraced her steps to the opening of the cave, only to scream when she beheld a man sitting on what looked to be pine branches. And, in the man’s hand was a bow, one he was twirling round and round within the palms of his hands.
Then the man spoke. “Do not fear. It is I, Skenan.”
“Oh my, how you scared me. I did not expect you to be back so soon. I mean, I had thought the work of erasing our trail would take a much longer time to do it.”
“It is not hard to do. And, it does not take long to erase it if one knows how to do it…which I do. Perhaps I should have told you this.”
“Yes, sir. Perhaps you should have.” She paused, then said, “I am glad you are back. I was worried about you.”
“You sound like my mother, and so let me tell you what I say to her when she worries about me: excuse me for causing this to you,” he murmured.
“There is nothing to excuse,” Abagail said. “I was frightened of this cave a little, but I was also fearful of something bad befalling you. I wish now I had gone with you. It would do me no harm to know what a trail looks like, let alone how to erase it from the land.”
“Then,” he said, as he continued to spin the bow over a piece of wood, “if we need to do it again, you shall come with me.”
Suddenly, whatever it was Skenan was doing with his bow produced a spark. She could see it easily within the gloom of the cave. Glancing slightly away from him, she saw some punk, as well as wood, lying in a pile, awaiting only a spark to light a fire.
She said, “I do not even know how to build a fire without flint, and if Fort Stanwix is further away than a few days’ walk, how would I have lived if you hadn’t come to help me?”
“You would watch the birds and eat the berries they eat, though cautiously. Not all berries the birds eat are good for people. But, you would recognize many of the berries, and they would help you keep your strength until you reached the fort.”
“Oh,” she said, watching Skenan as he lit the fire, stoking it now and again until it fairly lit up the darkness of the cave. “Excuse me, but won’t the enemy smell the fire and know we are here?”
“I ensured, before I lit the fire, that there are no enemies in our immediate environment. Although, if you notice, the fire lets off little smoke.”
“True,” she said. “This is true.”
“Tomorrow I might put up another pine branch at the entrance to our cave to hide the light of it and its odor from our enemies.”
“Oh? Then, you expect us to be here longer than the night.”
“I do,” he answered. “We both need to replenish our sleep. This cave will allow us to do this without too much worry. After we have rested, we will be again on our way.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “This is a good plan.”
As they both sat around the cheery fire, a feeling of camaraderie seeped into Abagail’s soul. The quiet ambiance between them made it a little startling when Skenan spoke up, asking, “How is it you have come to be in service to the inn? Has something happened to your husband?”
“I am not married, sir.”
“Not married? Ever?”
“Not ever,” she answered.
“What is wrong with the white men of your acquaintance that you are not yet married?”
She laughed a little at the compliment before replying, “There is nothing wrong with them. It is only that I have grown up without a family, and since I was very little, I have had to make it on my own in this world.”
“On your own?” he asked. “What about your other relations? Your aunts and uncles?”
She sighed before saying, “I fear, my father and mother died when I was a mere child of five, and I had no aunts or uncles to fall back upon. After my parents were gone, any money and goods they had saved went toward paying their debts and I was forced to make my own way in life by living upon the streets of London.”
“What are these streets? And, what is London?” he asked.
“Have you never been to a white man’s town?”
“I have not. The white men come to our towns.”
“Oh. Well, streets are like roads between houses. You know what a road is, do you not?”
“I do.”
“And, London is a town, a very big town. And, in this town, the houses are very close together, almost touching, and there are roads between some of the houses. Those roads we call streets.”
He nodded.
“It was a hard life I lived there, and I was often ill-clothed, hungry and cold. When a chance was given to me to indenture myself to someone in the colonies, the king paying my way across the sea, I was happy to agree to the contract.”
“Indenture yourself? A contract?”
“Aye, sir. To indenture yourself means to place yourself at the service of another, working for the person who owns your contract.”
“What is a contract?”
“It is a written agreement between two or more people, stating what a person is to do and for what sort of compensation.”
“Compensation?” he asked. “Do you mean the white man’s coin?”
“Well, yes,” she replied. “In a way. In my contract, it stated that I was to work for whomever would buy my contract, and I was to work for them for five years. It also stated that, while I am in service, the person holding my contract is to ensure I have clothing to wear, food to eat and a place to stay. In exchange for this, this written agreement also says I am to labor for the person who bought my contract for the period of five years.”
“Well, do not be discouraged. You are young, and you will soon find a man who will claim you as his wife. He will then take care of you.”