August 23, 1777
From the large room of the southeast bastion, which was positioned at the very edge of Fort Stanwix, Abagail stared out over the countryside, avoiding looking directly at the trenches the English had dug only a few weeks ago. Those trenches were now abandoned; the English had fled. But the reminder of how closely the Redcoats had come to capturing the fort was still troubling.
Would the English return?
Abagail tried to relax as she set her gaze upon the landscape surrounding the fort. Although the war had parched the countryside directly outside her window, there was still delightful color and beauty in the autumn trees that grew up tall on the hills bordering the river. Even the crisp scent of the autumn leaves was beginning to wash away the awful stench and reminder of the struggle which appeared to be now over...for the present.
Indeed, the fall colors were pleasing. But, yet not.
In truth, since the night when she and Skenan had found refuge within the fort, she had seen very little of the man. Yes, she had taken note of him from a distance, had watched him as he had helped in the fight against the invaders. But, shortly thereafter, he had disappeared, and Abagail began to fear he had left her without even taking the time to say goodbye.
Where had he gone? Would she ever see him again?
She knew Skenan still lived; she could feel it in her bones. She had also made discreet inquires to ensure he was well and alive, even asking the colonel, himself, about Skenan.
But, no one seemed to know what had happened to him.
She now wished she hadn’t agreed to make her quarters in the home of Jeanette Miller, the wife of Patriot John Miller. To be sure, she loved Jeanette Miller, but on the very day she’d made her home with the Millers, Skenan had disappeared.
However, both she and Jeanette kept themselves busy, not only with household chores, but helping also to care for the injured soldiers. Indeed, she and Jeanette took turns so the soldiers would have constant care. Luckily, the work helped to keep Abagail’s mind away from Skenan. But, during those times when she wasn’t on duty and her mind was no longer clouded with duty and chores, she could think only of Skenan.
Where was he? Why had he left without even saying goodbye?
He had become her friend, her confidante, her hero. And, though she dared not admit it, even to herself, she was afraid she had fallen in love with him.
After all, how could she not love him? Left to herself, she would have never survived the journey through the war-torn country of the Oneida to deliver the message to Colonel Gansevoort. There was no doubt within her mind: without Skenan, she would not have survived.
And, being with him upon the trail, she had become witness to his charm, his wit, his kindness toward her and his knowledge of survival upon this land. The truth was, though she wished to not admit it, she could not imagine her life without him.
Oh, where was he? How could he have left without telling her? Did he not know she would ache to see him again, to be with him, to talk to him, if only to ensure he would not easily forget her?
For all she knew, he might have been captured by the enemy. And, if he were captured, what would his fate be?
But, what could she think of except to worry about him? He was definitely not in the fort. She had asked about him from everyone who would listen to her, including both soldiers and Indians. But, no one in the fort could give her any information about him.
Had he returned to his family’s home? No one knew. And, again, Abagail was left wondering why, if he had returned to his village, he hadn’t told her.
It was silent in the fort now in comparison to the constant and awful noise of the cannons and the guns. In truth, the silence within the fort now seemed almost deafening by comparison.
But, it was much more than the fort’s silence that had changed. For one, the Indians siding with the British had left the Redcoat army, hurrying back to their homes. And, Abagail personally believed the change was due, in part, because of Skenan’s observation and words to Colonel Gansevoort that the Loyalist Indians were away from their homes during an important time of the year…a time when they were needed at home.
She recalled now how Colonel Gansevoort, upon hearing the news of the ambush at Oriskany as well as Skenan’s remarks regarding the Indians aiding the enemy, had acted to send out a troop of men to relieve the survivors of Oriskany. Having been put in charge of the relief, during a lull in the battle, Lt. Colonel Willett had attacked and looted the enemy camps, and, in doing so, had changed the course of the entire battle.
The Mohawk, the Seneca, the Onondaga and the Cayuga had brought many of their possessions with them. Also, at the urging of their leader, Joseph Brant, many of those Indian men had allowed their wives to follow them into the camp during the siege, they being convinced no harm would come to them.
However, these Indians, now realizing their women and their possessions were under attack, had left the Redcoats’ siege of the fort. Indeed, within the fort there were stories told by the Oneida Indians, causing rumors to quickly emerge, that many of the Indians fighting for the British had become so disenchanted with the British and with St. Leger’s treatment of them, and their women in particular, they were now gone, most vowing never to return.
And so, it had come to be. The Indian warriors who had thrown their lot in with the British had left Brigadier General St. Leger’s siege. But, perhaps worse for the British, the tribes themselves had become disenchanted with St. Leger, who cared, it seemed, nothing for their families’ peril and losses.
And so, the fort, once so noisy with the sounds of war, was now quiet.
Suddenly, Abagail heard someone behind her, a man clearing his throat, and she turned around swiftly to see it was Mr. Wilson standing behind her. She smiled at him but said nothing, although disappointment swept over her. She had hoped to find it would be Skenan standing there.
Then, fear washed over her. Had Mr. Wilson come here to escort her back to the inn? Would she now be required to leave here without being able to see and speak to Skenan?
She waited as Mr. Wilson took off his tricorne hat and took a farther step into the large room afforded them at the southeast bastion, and he said, “’Tis a pleasure now, to be seein’ thee, Miss Abagail. I’ll be gettin’ meself back to the inn now—this very day—seein’ as how the British ceased their siege upon the fort. I thank thee for bringin’ the necklace here as I urged thee to do and fer placin’ it into the hands of the colonel now, since ‘twas a coded message for him, alone. But, gal, I be proud of thee. Despite it all, ye did it.”
Abagail smiled and cleared her throat before she replied, and, at last, she said, “Yes, I did, but I would have never arrived here in one piece without the help of Skenan. And, now I must thank you for sending him after me.”
“’Twas nothin’. Listen to me now, girl, ‘cause I have news fer thee. I want thee to know I have fired Miss Stockenridge. She was workin’ fer the other side, don’t ye know? And, she knew ‘twas an important message in the necklace. I be the one who placed the jewelry into yer apron, now, not thinkin’ the woman would suspect ye had it. So, ‘twas my action that caused ye some harm.”
“And, was it you, too, who put the necklace again into my apron, along with the coin before I left the inn?”
“That be God’s own truth, girl.”
Abagail managed a slight smile. Then she said, “I had thought you were the one who had placed it into my apron pocket. I am sorry, now, to know Miss Stockenridge was working for the other side, and I thank you for telling me. But, I can now understand why she was so cruel to me, thinkin’ I was a Patriot.” Abagail paused and swallowed hard, afraid to ask the question she must. But, at last, she inquired, “And now, Mr. Wilson, I suppose you are here to take me back to the inn?”
Mr. Wilson slapped his three-pointed hat against his thigh and glanced away from her before he said, “There be a problem with ye comin’ back to the inn, miss.”
“A problem?”
“Your friend, there, Mr. Skenandoah, has been talkin’ to me now.”
“Skenan is here in the fort?”
“He be recently returned here from a duty, I believe, miss.”
“Oh? What duty?”
“I be not rightly knowin, miss.”
“Where is he?” she asked. “I have not seen him since we arrived here.”
“Yes, well, miss, I don’t rightly know where the young man be at this moment. I be here ’cause…well, I be tryin’ to apologize to thee, miss.”
“Apologize?”
Mr. Wilson said not a word. Instead, he looked away from her. But, at last he gazed back at her, and he said, “Miss Abagail, I rightly figure I owe you your freedom. If not fer you and the young scout, Skenan, deliverin’ the message in the locket to Gansevoort, this fort might have fallen into enemy hands. And so, Miss Abagail, I have come here ta have thee see what I have here.” He held some parchment in his hand. “In me hand here I have the contract that binds thee to a service of five years, now. Though Miss Stockenridge said she paid for thy own contract, ‘twas my money she spent, not her own. And so, I be the one ‘hat can set thee free. Now, I wish thee to see what I hold here is yer own contract, and I wish thee to witness yer mark upon it so ye know it is yer own contract with the king I be destroying.”
“Destroy? You…you wish to destroy it?”
“Aye, that I do, miss. That fella, Skenan, he be right about indentured servitude bein’ a light form of slavery, now. Fer what I put thee through and fer what ye accomplished in aidin’ the fort, ye should be free. So, come here now and look at this contract. I want thee to see it be yer own mark upon it.”