Perilous Woods (eBook)

A Novel of the French and Indian War

Sean Moynihan (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2024 | 1. Auflage
428 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-7439-3 (ISBN)

Infos

A story of a teenage boy in 1750s Colonial America who survives a devastating attack by native warriors on his family farm and then becomes embroiled in the violent contest between the British and French Empires to control the North American continent.

Sean Moynihan is the author of two previous novels, 'Here' and 'The Fall.' He lives in Colorado with his wife and two kids and works as a criminal prosecutor.

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Fifteen-year-old Adam Turner awakes to a violent attack by vengeful Western Delaware warriors on his family's quiet homestead on the Pennsylvania frontier. He somehow escapes but knows nothing of the fate of his loved ones. Befriending a former slave named Peter and another local farmer named Thomas who has lost his family in the attacks, Adam finds refuge with other Pennsylvanians in the town of Carlisle and ultimately joins an expedition to exact retribution on the Western Delaware village of Kittaning. He and his two friends then join up with the legendary Rogers' Rangers in the Province of New York theater of operations and take part in the growing maelstrom of the French and Indian War. Learning the trade of special woodland warfare, Adam soon discovers that one member of his family--his older sister, Mary--still lives but is held captive by another native tribe far to the north behind enemy lines. Thus, Adam and his comrades, aided by a courageous Mohawk scout named Gray Hawk, determine to travel into the unknown to rescue his sister and bring her back to the life and world she once knew.

Textauszug

2

Adam peered through the trees and looked up and down the gnarled road that traversed the farmland stretching before him. Seeing no sign of the Indians, he crept out across the road and walked into the adjoining field, where he saw the smoldering Kenneally cabin about fifty yards distant. Running quickly, he approached the front door and saw a figure lying across the threshold: a woman. He carefully walked up to her and looked down: the mother, Ann Kenneally. She had several arrows sticking into her torso, and her scalp had been removed. Her eyes were open, though, as if she were peacefully staring off into the distance.

Looking up from her body, he peered deeper into the home that was half-burned and completely ransacked. Over in the corner of the main living space, he saw what appeared to be a couple of bundles of clothes piled on the floor. Upon closer inspection, however, he realized that they were, in fact, two of the Kenneally children. He squatted down next to them and saw that they were young Tom and his sister Betsy, both slightly under ten years of age. As with their mother, their scalps had been removed, and they were lying in a pool of blood.

He took a deep breath to avoid vomiting, and then stood up and looked around the smoking ruins of the cabin. Seeing no one else, he wondered where the father and older brother were—perhaps taken alive by the raiders, for he had heard that sometimes the woodland tribes would take settlers captive to replace members of the tribe who had been killed in battle or lost to sickness. He knew that the father was still relatively young and robust, a strong and silent man who farmed the land with his young son, Ethan, and thus, they might be an attractive prize for a tribe returning to its village in the woods to the west. But now the two were nowhere to be seen amidst the awful scene of carnage spread out in front of him.

He turned and walked out the front door and crept around to the back of the place. There, one of the mysteries was answered: Ethan lay on his stomach near the well with a hatchet stuck squarely in his back. Adam walked over and saw that the seventeen-year-old was indeed dead, for his skull had been terribly smashed and now blood spilled out onto the ground.

He stood and tried to process all the death that had befallen this family and his own over the past hour. He wondered if he should be the one to bury the bodies, and as he was about to look for a spade or shovel, he heard a sound coming from the small shed near the burned-out barn that lay smoking thirty yards to his left. He stood frozen, frightened that perhaps some Indians had remained on the scene to ambush other passersby, but as he slowly walked backward with the intent to sprint back into the woods, he heard a whispered call coming from the shed: “Come here…come on over here….”

He stepped closer to the door of the little shed, which had strangely escaped burning. “Who’s there?” he said in the most commanding voice that he could summon. “Show yourself.”

“It’s me, Peter,” said the whispered voice. “Peter Drew. I’ve been hiding since they came.”

Peter, Adam thought. Peter Drew. The Black farm hand for the Kenneallys. Adam had seen him working with the family for a while, and when the work was done, it always seemed like Peter could be found sitting quietly under a tree, reading a book.

“Come out,” Adam said. “They’re gone and it’s safe.”

Peter, a muscular man in his thirties who had worked various farms in the county, slowly came out and walked over to Adam. “They killed them all, sir,” he said despondently. “Killed them all.”

“I know,” Adam replied quietly. “I’m Adam Turner, from just down the road, and they killed my pa and grandpa, and my baby sister, too, and I don’t know what they did with my ma and brothers and other sisters—I ran.”

“I am sorry for your loss, sir,” Peter stated consolingly. “Nobody deserves to come to their end like this by those damned savages. I couldn’t do anything—just hid under a blanket in there or I feared I would be strung up, sir.”

“I know, Peter. I’m just glad you’re alive, too. But what about Mister Kenneally? Did he escape, too?”

“No, Mister Turner. He wasn’t even here. He went to Philadelphia with the older daughter to get more supplies last week, and they haven’t returned. I do think maybe it’d be best if he doesn’t ever return, though. He’s going to be suffering for certain with this terrible news. I feel for the man.”

“I see. Well, I was thinking I was going to bury these Kenneally folk when I heard you, so maybe you could assist me now. Then I was going to go back and take care of my own kin.”

“No, sir, don’t be planning on that right now,” Peter said as he gently grabbed Adam’s arm. “Those savages, they just went down the road a ways after they came by here, and I’m figuring that they’re coming back real soon, Mister Turner. This is no time to be dealing with the dead, and I am sorry to say that to you. We’d best be moving on and run from this place through the woods down yonder. The Indians, they’re burning up the valley and they aren’t done in these parts. They’re led by their king—the one they call Shingas. I saw him here, Mister Turner. He sure is a devil incarnate, all colored up in red face like a monster. He’s leading them back soon, I suppose, so we’ll be needing to get some men and some help really quick. You understand what I’m saying, sir?”

Adam hesitated and turned to look back down the long road leading to his family’s home that was by now certainly burned down. He then turned back to Peter. “I do understand you, Peter,” he said, “and I hate to admit it, but I think you are right. But this king you spoke of—Shingas. Who is he?”

“He’s just the worst Delaware sachem in Pennsylvania,” Peter answered quickly. “A bloodthirsty Indian who drinks the blood of babies and cuts the heads of mistresses of the plantations. I saw him once at his village in Kittanning west of the mountains back when they were still trading with the settlers. I was helping with the wagon train that day and I saw him. A very dangerous savage.”

“What did he look like this time, Peter? Red-faced, you said?”

“Indeed. As I said, I’ve seen him before in these parts with his band, asking for trades and such, and on that day back in Kittanning. And then I saw him this morning, leading the killing, sir. It was Shingas who was leading them to murder these people, or I’ll be a dried-up turnip instead of a breathing man.”

“Then I believe it was the band who attacked my home. And the same Indian I wrestled with at our door.”

“Yes, Mister Turner, that would be the one. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Thank you,” Adam said, looking far off in the distance. “I can’t believe that they’re all gone. I…I should have done something.” Adam’s throat caught with emotion, and he walked away a few steps to hide it from Peter.

“They are with God now, Mister Turner,” Peter said comfortingly. “They are sure to be with God.”

“Yes, I do think so,” Adam replied, still looking far down the road to where his family’s homestead once stood. After several seconds, he turned back to his newfound companion. “So where do you suggest we go for help now?”

“We go down into the woods, sir, and make our way over to Carlisle,” Peter said, pointing to the woods from whence Adam had just emerged. “There’ll be men there and they’ll help us come back in safety, I’d figure.”

“Well, then, I guess it’s just you and me now. To Carlisle, and may God forgive us for leaving our families like this.”

“But, sir,” Peter said, looking down at Adam’s bleeding feet, “first you’ll be needing some shoes on those feet, and maybe a coat for the evening. I think there’ll be some left inside that I can get you.”

Peter walked off and entered the remains of the family cabin. After a moment, he reappeared with a pair of shoes and a thigh-length coat in his hands. “Here,” he said, “these were the shoes, socks, and coat of Mister Ethan, and you look about his size. Maybe you should take them. I found them still safe up in the loft.”

“Thank you,” Adam said, taking first the shoes and socks in his hands. “I almost forgot that I’ve been running through the woods barefoot. Let me see if they fit.”

He sat down on the ground and pulled the socks onto his feet, then tried one of the black leather shoes. “Well, they feel all right, I’d say,” he said. “Not perfect, but they’ll do. Thank you, Peter. Now for the coat.”

He reached over and took the coat from Peter and tried it on. “Well,” he said, “a little large, I’d say, but it’ll do for now.”

“Yes, indeed, sir.”

“Thank you for this,” Adam said, shaking Peter’s hand. “I am indebted to you, and also to poor Ethan.”

“You’re most welcome, Mister Turner. A man shouldn’t be wandering through the woods without shoes on his feet or a coat on his...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 25.10.2024
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3509-7439-3 / 9798350974393