Savage Destiny (The Hearts of Liberty Series, Book 1) (40 page)

Although doubting the excuse for Hunter's early morning jaunt into the forest, Elliott nevertheless told the truth. "No, we thought we heard something a minute ago, but it came from the other direction."

As Elliott turned to point, Blind Snake stepped onto the trail, a musket raised to his shoulder. Hunter dived into the underbrush carrying Alanna along with him, but before Elliott could reach cover, the Abenaki fired, and he was struck in the chest. He staggered backwards and fell, just inches from where Hunter had been standing.

"Elliott!" Alanna screamed. She fought to break free of Hunter's grasp to go to her cousin, but he held her fast.

"No! Wait!" he ordered in a frantic whisper. "I'll get him." Hunter had his own musket slung over his shoulder; speedily loading it, he stood and fired into the trees where Blind Snake had been hiding. Before the smoke cleared, he bent down to grasp Elliott under the arms and pulled him off the trail. Unharmed, Blind Snake fired a second shot that tore through the leaves just inches above Alanna's head.

"Keep down!" Hunter shouted, but the words had no sooner left his mouth than a shot coming at them from another direction ripped through the fringe on his sleeve. "We'll have to find cover," he warned, and seeing that the forest fell away in a rocky slope not ten feet away, he pointed toward it. "I'll fire at them again, you run for the rocks and stay there, understand? Elliott and I will follow."

Elliott's eyes were open, and praying he might not be as badly injured as she feared, Alanna nodded. The instant Hunter fired, she flung herself toward the rocks, half-running, half-swimming through the air. Reaching the slope, she fell to her knees as she scrambled down behind it, ripping her skirt, but managing to reach safety otherwise unharmed. Hunter then fired again, and quickly dropped to take a firm hold on Elliott. Moving in a low crouch, he sprinted toward the slope with his injured friend in his arms. A musket ball ricocheted off the rocks, spraying them both with sharp fragments, but they also made it down the far side of the slope without suffering further injury.

From here, Hunter could defend them, at least temporarily, but now knowing Blind Snake wasn't alone, he wasn't confident of his chances to keep his enemies at bay for long. Their situation desperate, he fumbled with Elliott's stock in an attempt to loosen the young man's collar, and Alanna leaned over to unfasten it in the back. She then pulled it away, and unbuttoned Elliott's blood soaked shirt to reveal where the musket ball had entered his chest just above his heart.

Hunter pushed her aside. "I can't have you fainting again."

Alanna couldn't deny that she was affected by the sight of her dear cousin's blood, but she was determined to find the courage not to fail him. "No, I'll be all right," she swore, and moved to take Elliott's hand. She gave his fingers an encouraging squeeze, but his response was feeble. Hunter folded the discarded stock, and placed it over the gaping hole in the young man's chest. When Alanna's gaze met his, the Indian shook his head, but she refused to believe Elliott was mortally wounded.

"Hang on," she begged. "We'll get help to take you back to the trading post, where a doctor can treat your wound properly."

With blood rapidly filling his lungs, Elliott had great difficulty drawing a breath. "I have always loved you," he whispered.

He had lost his hat when he had been hit, and Alanna smoothed back his hair, before leaning over to place a kiss on his forehead. "I love you, too," she vowed. "Stay with me, Elliott, please try and stay with me." But even as she spoke, she watched the light in his blue eyes grow dim and knew he was already gone. His hand was limp, but she brought it to her lips to kiss him goodbye.

Without giving her more than that one second to mourn, Hunter grabbed her arm. "I'm sorry, but if we stay here, we'll be killed, too. Let's go."

"Go? But we can't leave him!"

"He's dead!"

"But if we leave him, they'll—" Alanna could not bring herself to describe how Elliott's body would surely be mutilated.

Hunter could see her anguish, and doubted anything he said would have any meaning. To stall for time, he reloaded and fired just to keep Blind Snake on his guard. Faced with the choice of carrying her or carrying Elliott's body in the hope they would live to bury him, he made the only decision that would be acceptable to her.

"I can carry Elliott," he offered, "but that means you'll have to look out for yourself. Are you strong enough to do it?"

"I shall have to be."

"If the choice becomes one of leaving you, or Elliott's body, I'll leave him."

"Yes, I understand." She hurried to button Elliott's coat to not only cover his gruesome wound, but to make him easier to carry.

Endlessly resourceful, Hunter took three of his arrows from his quiver and wrapped the tips in dried grass he pulled from between the rocks. He then lit them with the flint he carried in the pouch at his belt. He had to scramble up on the rocks and risk being shot, as he sent them in the direction he believed Blind Snake was hiding, but again escaped being hit. He did not expect to start any real blaze in a forest lush with the new growth of spring, but all they needed was a few minutes' confusion on his enemies' part to provide them with a chance to flee.

Again sliding down the slope, he handed Alanna his musket and bow, took a firm hold on Elliott, and slung him over his shoulder. His friend's body was no heavier than that of the last stag he had carried home, but it was not a burden he wished to take far. He was positive he had been Blind Snake's real target, but this was no time to carry an additional burden of guilt, and he forced such sad thoughts from his mind.

"They'll try and block our way back to the trading post, so I'm going north rather than east. I won't get us lost, but you must stay right with me. If we're fired on again, get down and take cover. If I'm hit, don't look back. Go south until you reach the Mohawk, and follow the river back to the trading post."

Elliott's head and arms were dangling down Hunter's back, but Alanna was certain she could focus her gaze on the Indian's legs rather than her poor cousin's body. "I understand. One of us has to survive to see that the men responsible for killing Elliott are punished!"

"The man's name is Blind Snake. Did you get a good look at him?"

Alanna nodded. His was a face she would never forget. He had been laughing when he had fired the shot that killed Elliott.

Hunter didn't waste another second before starting off at the fastest speed he could make. Had Elliott not already been dead, he would soon have expired from his wound, for Hunter made no effort to carry him gently. They were only minutes ahead of men he knew would not only mutilate Elliott's corpse as Alanna feared, but do far worse things to them while they were still alive.

Chapter 18

Moving at a slow, even jog, Hunter stayed well away from the trail and cut his own path through the forest. Trying her best to keep up with him, Alanna held her side when it began to ache, and did not even consider begging Hunter to stop so she could rest. She did not understand how the Indian could maintain his steady pace mile after mile, when Elliott's body had to be growing increasingly heavier. Either he was incredibly strong, or through some Indian trick he was able to ignore the weight of his burden. Whatever enabled him to maintain his constant, measured step, she admired him enormously for it.

Fearing Blind Snake might be following close behind, she sent a furtive glance over her shoulder every few minutes. Smoke had come billowing up from the fires Hunter's flaming arrows had sparked, and she prayed that mischief had bought them the necessary time to escape. No more shots had been fired at them, and while she wanted desperately to believe that was a good sign, she knew Blind Snake might only be waiting for them to slow down and present an easier target. He was Indian, too, after all, and unencumbered by the weight of a dead body, wouldn't
he
be able to follow them no matter how far they went, or cleverly they attempted to fool him?

When Hunter finally slowed to a stop on the banks of a small creek, Alanna clung to a spruce sapling and struggled to catch her breath. "Are we safe here?" she was finally able to ask.

She looked exhausted, but Hunter knew they had not even begun to test their endurance. "No, but we're leaving a trail even a child could follow. We must walk in the water to hide our tracks. Take a drink, but only a small one. From here, we'll go a mile or so upstream, and then look for a place to bury Elliott. We can disguise the fresh grave with leaves and branches, so it won't be disturbed."

"My aunt and uncle will want Elliott's body brought home."

"Then it is a shame they are not here to carry him." That bitter retort had leapt from Hunter's lips without forethought and he instantly regretted his sarcasm. "Later, when we are safe, I'll come back on horseback, or with others who can help me carry him to the trading post. For now, we'll just have to bury him as best we can."

Hostile one minute, thoughtful the next, Alanna didn't know what to make of Hunter, but she was too tired to object to his plan, and when he stepped into the middle of the creek, she followed. The water was icy cold. She had worn riding boots for travel rather than kid slippers, and she was now grateful she had made such a practical choice. The moss-covered stones at the bottom of the stream were slippery and slowed their pace, but she still came dangerously close to falling several times before they left the water.

Hunter chose a spot where they could step out onto a rocky bank to avoid leaving footprints along the muddy shore, and she followed carefully picking her way to make the most of his efforts to hide their trail. He took them perhaps a hundred yards into the forest, before he lowered Elliott's body to the ground. Unable to look at her dead cousin, Alanna turned away quickly, and then felt horribly disloyal.

Hunter noted her shudder, but hid his own. He broke off a leafy branch from a sugar maple and pointed back the way they had come. "I'm going to use this like a broom to scatter the leaves and hide our tracks. Sit down and rest, while I'm gone."

"You promise to come back?"

Despite her obvious terror, Hunter did not understand how she could doubt him. "Had I wanted to abandon you, I would have done it when Elliott was killed. I'd not have carried his body all this way just to please you." Thinking her daft, he left shaking his head, and sprinted back over the ground they had just covered.

Hardly reassured, Alanna sat down and leaned back against the maple. Weary, she bent her knees to provide a resting place for her cheek. She missed Elliott terribly, and she did not know how she was going to return home without him. How would she ever find the words to tell her aunt and uncle that they had lost another child? She and Elliott had allowed his parents to believe they were following their wishes and coming to New York in an effort to persuade Hunter to raise his son, when that had not been their true purpose at all. Begun with a lie, their trip had ended in tragedy, and she could not help but feel she was to blame.

When he returned, Hunter offered no words to bolster her courage before searching briefly for a suitable branch to use for a digging stick. He sharpened one end into a point, used it to loosen the soil, and then scooped out the dirt with his hands. It was hard work, but he wanted to create a hole of sufficient depth to discourage not only Blind Snake, but predators as well from disturbing the body.

"Is there something I can do to help?"

Hunter shot her a disapproving frown. "Just stay out of my way."

Feeling very small and helpless, Alanna huddled down into herself. She was lost in the forest with an obstreperous Indian she trusted only slightly more than Blind Snake, and she was horribly uncomfortable with him. She knew she ought to be thinking of what to say when they buried Elliott, but no matter how poetic a tribute she might devise, he had been so dear to her, the moment would be heartbreaking, and she would not be able to speak. Lost in her own misery, she waited for Hunter to tell her what to do.

Remaining alert to danger, Hunter paused periodically to listen to the soft rustling sound of the gentle breeze passing through the canopy of leaves overhead. The shrill cries of birds defending their nests created a constant din, accented by the noisy chatter of squirrels. Their arrival had briefly disrupted the natural harmony of the forest, but it had soon resumed at full volume. Hearing no other break in its rhythm, Hunter continued to dig until he had excavated the hole to a depth of nearly four feet. He then climbed out and shook the loose dirt from his buckskins.