Chapter 24 #3
Ethan fell to silence, pulling her through the undergrowth, the rough bushes scratching and tearing at her dress. It was as well she’d thought to change back into her riding boots, though she would miss those pretty moccasins, so lovingly crafted and given with kindness.
It was easy enough to be silent. The way ahead was rough. Still, her mind raced with the memory of a dark night like this, smoke, fire and a terrible cruelty.
Questions erupted, growing like spiked plants from that awful memory resurrected by the burning of the Indian village.
Struggling over the uneven ground, bushes and brambles snatching at her skirts, her feet being sucked into the rank earth consumed all her energy. Her breathing was laboured.
The shouts of men and women, the higher-pitched cries of children, followed them. The smoke came too. The lodges crackled as they burned. The trees stretched fiery fronds to the night sky as they too burned.
Stumbling as she ran, Ethan held her up, supporting her with his firm grip and strong arm.
‘Keep going.’
There was urgency in his voice. She let herself be dragged away, her feet sinking into the soft earth of the forest.
‘What about the people?’ she managed to ask, her voice straining above the noise and the fear that seemed to tighten every thread of her being.
They rested for a second time a mile or so on.
Lochranza’s head was aching. ‘I want to tell you again what I saw when I was a child. I want to proclaim that I remember and—’
Ethan pressed a finger against her lips. ‘Not now,’ he whispered. ‘Wait until we’re out of danger.’
Dawn was rising up ahead, but they were still in darkness.
Lochranza could not see his expression and the knowledge in his eyes.
And that was the way he wished things to be.
He could not admit that he knew more of her history than she did, even to knowing the identity of the person ultimately responsible for Molly’s murder.
She closed her eyes to block out the sounds of slaughter coming from the Indian village. Her own memory was more pervasive, flaunting itself after being so firmly buried for so long.
She asked if anything would have saved the village.
‘No. You heard what Grey Coat said. The people themselves decided that if it happened, it was meant to happen, and they would deal with their destiny when it came. It came sooner than any of us thought it would. But they will survive. They’ll scatter and regroup as they’ve always done.
Perhaps one day the Indian Nations might unite and rise once more, but for now there’s nothing we can do but leave the carnage behind. ’
Us too, she thought and felt a sickness inside. ‘I take it Lieutenant Wellow is dead.’
‘Yes. Now come on.’
Ethan asked her if she still had the pistol. She replied that she did.
‘Keep it safe.’
She tucked it into her cleavage, the only place she could think of where it wouldn’t fall out without her noticing.
A rustling came from behind them as though a sudden wind had got up and was blowing the leaves from the trees, yet there was no wind.
Ethan’s eyes widened as they searched the shadows and black alcoves beneath the trees. Lochranza’s heart thudded against her ribcage. Dark figures loped low and quickly. Bushes rustled, disturbed by many rushing legs. Shadow people, enemies! And then they were not. They rushed on like the wind.
‘Grey Coat’s people,’ murmured Ethan.
She breathed more easily whilst reflecting that the Shawnee fleeing the fire were admirable.
Even though she was still reeling from regaining her memory of Jamaica, she determined that she would do everything in her power to tell the world about the dream of a conquered people whose land had been stolen from under their feet.
They deserved their own lands and own status apart from the white man’s rule.
After all, it was their land in the first place!
Continually slogging uphill was exhausting. Lochranza felt her legs cramp in one muscle and then in another.
‘How much—?’
She didn’t finish her sentence but cried out in pain as her legs gave way and she fell forward onto her knees.
Ethan’s arm encircled her waist. ‘You can’t rest here.’ He jerked her up to her feet. Her muscles stayed rigid, her head flopping with exhaustion onto his shoulder.
Once the rustling of bushes and the padding of feet passed on by, there was silence. It lasted for a while before a nightjar disturbed it and an owl flew overhead on silent wings.
‘A little further.’
She leaned heavily on his firm physique, her own strength drained. Together they made the top of the rise and were soon descending through more bushes, tall trees and damp earth.
Stones and loose earth slid beneath their feet. Going downhill was almost as tiring as going up.
After what seemed hours, she felt herself slipping from his grasp, tumbling onto the coolness of loamy earth.
‘I think we’ll be safe here,’ she heard him say.
Her head spinning, she tried to open her eyes. Through her fluttering eyelashes, she saw nothing but darkness. Her legs folded gratefully beneath her and she felt herself being lowered to the ground, her head resting on something soft and cool.
She slept a dreamless sleep without smoke, fire or the smell of boiled flesh. There was only blackness.