Chapter 24 #2
It was hard to tell exactly, but at least one man went down and another whirled clutching his arm. The third one peered into the blackness surrounding them, instantly aware that the shots had not come from within the village.
He waved an arm at his compatriots and shouted something indiscernible, one shout of many among the screams, warlike whoops and general mayhem of sound and movement.
The Indians were fighting back, but they had their families to hand. It would not be easy.
Ethan dragged Lochranza to her feet and pushed her towards the forest. ‘Run,’ he ordered. ‘Run as you’ve never run before!’
He stood up between her and where she’d lain protected from the stampeding horses, flame spitting from the barrel of his pistol.
Lochranza did as he’d ordered, her dress ripping on thorns and sage as she made the edge of the clearing where forest replaced the neat fields of beans and corn.
Ethan and the lieutenant were silhouetted against the fires burning in the village, both firing again and again as they retreated to where she was hiding.
Muskets cracked from the shoulders of the motley crew. She did not need to see them to know they were cruel men who killed for gain, never glory.
Again and again, Ethan and Wellow reloaded and fired, ducking low and weaving from side to side at the same time as taking aim. The strategy was the best they could do, their intention to head for the dark beyond the ring of fire the village had become.
Lochranza took aim from her hiding place, peering into the smoke and flames, smelling cooking smells amongst that of burning bark, furs and flesh.
Smoke billowed everywhere, blanketing the scene she’d been so avidly watching.
Something was happening to her. The world was turning hazy.
‘Ethan?’
He came stumbling out of the mist, urging her to run, not to stop, even if it meant leaving him behind.
She noticed that Wellow was not with him. There seemed little point in asking where he was. If he was still alive he would be here, or Ethan would mention he was coming right along, that he wouldn’t be long, that all three of them would escape into the night.
Grim-faced, he dragged her with him.
The terrain led upwards, away from the valley, the burning lodges and the fields of harvest-ready crops which were also burning, the corn like torches in dependable rows.
It seemed they climbed for hours, the terrain getting hillier, the forest denser, the blackness ever deeper.
Legs trembling, she fell forward, her palms grazing the trunk of a tree.
‘Drink this.’
He forced the water into her mouth. She drank deeply. Her legs ached and her mind was at that odd stage between sleep and full wakefulness, a kind of limbo she didn’t quite recognise. A place where reality and memories collide.
‘I think we’ve lost them. We can rest awhile.’
Guessing her legs were trembling, he propped her up against a tree. Wisps of hair clung damply to her face. Her breath came in quick, sharp gasps and her eyelids felt heavy, but she refused to close them. She couldn’t give in. She had to gather her thoughts, to know where she was and…
Here! She was here but not here.
Beyond Ethan’s head, smoke rose thick and black. Flames leapt against a background of black pine trees rising like spears against the dark night sky.
The night would have been clean and crisp but was acrid thanks to the fire.
Lochranza had the sudden impression that she and the tree were one. She needed its strength to lean against. It needed her to… She couldn’t work it out. She was here, seeing but not seeing, hearing but not listening, there but not there.
A familiar voice in her ear. ‘Lochranza! Do you hear me? We have to go! Quickly!’
His voice was full of warning yet sounded from far away and long ago. The smoke, the flames, the smell of burning filled her eyes, clouded her mind but also sharpened it, bringing something long forgotten into vivid life.
Pine trees crackled. Sparks swarmed upwards like flowing bees leaving a fiery nest.
Her eyes were wide – staring!
Ethan was shaking her. ‘Lochranza! What is it? What are you seeing?’
Lochranza didn’t move. Her eyes reflected the flames. Her lips were parted.
‘Molly,’ she whispered. ‘Mama Molly. I saw what they did to her. I remember.’
The name, not spoken for years, was familiar yet somehow frightening.
She didn’t see Ethan’s frown. She wasn’t seeing him or her surroundings. She was somewhere else. Somewhere long ago.
‘They killed Molly,’ she whispered, her eyes still fixed on the inferno that was swiftly engulfing the Shawnee village. Everything was coming back to her.
‘Who’s Molly?’
Lochranza blinked. Suddenly, it was all there, like a play at the theatre, with characters and movement and loud voices.
It all came tumbling out. Ethan listened but said nothing. She was glad. There was too much to say and she had to say it. What had happened. What she remembered.
The horrors of the past were playing out before her eyes.
Everything was clear, so clear that she couldn’t help but wonder how she could have forgotten such scenes.
And how could she have forgotten the old black woman who had been like a mother to her.
She recalled a cool hand soothing her hot brow when she’d been ill.
A soft voice that had sung her to sleep.
It was against that ample shoulder that she’d cried on awaking from a nightmare. Yet here, playing out before her eyes was a real nightmare. Bad men had set the house on fire. Bad men had killed Molly.
‘Molly was my nurse. She looked after me and they killed her.’
Her words sounded extraordinarily simple and very honest; as though she’d known all along about Molly.
As though her old life had never been forgotten.
But it had, thanks to a terrible night when lightning had lit the sky and thunder rumbled and another bunch of ruffians, no better than these, had set fire to her childhood home.
It was the smoke, the heat, the smell of burning flesh she also remembered – just as she could smell it now.
‘Who killed her?’
‘I don’t know. I have to find out who did it, Ethan. I have to know!’
His voice was gentle. ‘Take my cloak and come away. We have to go.’
He didn’t enlighten her as to what he knew about the woman’s murder. There was no time. He did know who had caused the nurse to be murdered, but he would keep it a secret, at least for now.
Under the force of his urging, the strength of his hands, she allowed herself to be led away. Still, the smoke drew her attention, glancing over her shoulder.
‘Those poor people. Poor Molly. I must tell you…’
‘Come on.’
‘I have to tell you.’
‘You already have.’
‘It was in Jamaica…’
What with the smoke and the need to get away, his breathing was heavy. Talking to her would help keep hysteria at bay – not that he thought she would break down, but it was best to be sure.
‘So you lived with your uncle’s family?’ He knew the truth but asked the question anyway.
‘No. No. I don’t remember them. I only remember Molly. And that night… when the men came… when.’
‘You lived with her?’
‘We had a little house. It was just the two of us.’