Savage Destiny (The Hearts of Liberty Series, Book 1) (22 page)

* * *

True to his promise, Randolph O'Neil came looking for Alanna as soon as the dancing began. The furniture had been removed from the parlor to create a small ballroom, and he led her out into the middle of the floor. The musicians had begun with a lilting minuet, and all around them couples traced graceful figures. Self-conscious as always, Alanna tried to remember to smile as she danced, so she would appear to be enjoying herself as much as her partner, but Randolph wasn't fooled.

When the first tune melted into the second, he kept hold of her hand. Along with a sumptuous meal, the Barclays were serving a rum punch flavored with pineapple and lemons, and he suggested they have a cup, then lured her outside where they could escape the crowd for a few minutes. "While I'm not as old a man as your uncle, I'm going to feel very foolish asking his permission to call on you. If you'd rather not see me, I'd appreciate your saying so now, as it will save me an embarrassing ordeal."

Amused by his plea, Alanna's smile was now genuine. "I've never had any callers, Mr. O'Neil, and I've no idea how to entertain you. Perhaps you would be saving us both an embarrassing ordeal, if you did not speak to my uncle."

Randolph laughed with her. "You see, you do know how to entertain callers. I can't believe that you haven't had any though. Of course, until recently, I seldom saw you except at church. I imagine other men lacked the same opportunity to impress you."

Uncertain what to say, Alanna frowned slightly. Where should she begin? she wondered. Should she describe how her family had been murdered, and explain how love and loss were so closely intertwined in her mind, she couldn't separate them? Surely that wasn't the kind of charming tale a young woman told to regale her suitors.

Alanna's expression revealed the answer she didn't seem to be able to put into words, and Randolph regretfully provided his own reply. "You'd rather I didn't call on you, wouldn't you?"

Alanna was close to tears. "It's not that I don't like you, Mr. O'Neil. It's just that I doubt I'll ever wish to marry and have children. There's really no need for me to entertain callers then, is there?"

"How old are you, Alanna?"

"Seventeen."

"That's rather young to choose a spinster's life, don't you think?"

"It's not really a matter of choice, Mr. O'Neil," Alanna argued halfheartedly.

"You're a lovely young woman," he leaned forward to whisper. "All you need is a little more time to grow up. I'll try and be patient. Shall we go back inside?"

Alanna knew her decision had nothing to do with age, but let the matter drop. "I think I'll stay out here awhile, thank you." He took her empty cup with him, and she turned toward the garden but she hadn't taken more than three steps before Graham Tyler appeared at her side. He was as splendidly attired as Ian and greeted her with a delighted grin.

"I've been hoping for a chance to speak with you alone. There wasn't time at the church, of course, with all the confusion to get everyone into carriages for the trip here. Now that I've finally found you, I hope that you might have a few minutes for me. If you'd rather dance, I'd be pleased to be your partner. I'll be happy to do whatever you'd like."

"Do you think that you could stroll through the garden without talking incessantly?" Alanna regretted that comment as soon as she had spoken it. "I'm sorry, that was very rude of me, but, Graham,
must
you be so talkative?"

Rather than being as badly embarrassed as Alanna had feared, Graham started to laugh. "I'm so horribly nervous when I'm with you, I don't have any idea what I'm saying. If you'd rather I just be quiet, it would be a great relief to me as well."

"Some men are too quiet, and that's upsetting, too." Alanna looked around hurriedly to make certain Stuart Harnett wasn't anywhere near. "Perhaps we could just stroll for a while, and wait until something interesting occurs to us. Then the conversation would be far easier for us both."

Unwilling to spoil what he considered a rare stroke of good fortune, Graham offered his arm, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

Chapter 10

Toward the end of May, Washington's men crossed the main range of the Alleghenies and camped in the shadow of the next barrier, Laurel Hill. The ground here at Great Meadows was level, covered in thick grass and bushes nourished by the waters of a small brook. The one hundred fifty men, who had labored so hard to cut a wide swath through the forest, were in sore need of reinforcements, but Colonel Fry had yet to arrive with the rest of the regiment. As for Captain Trent's frontiersmen, they had been so badly discouraged after the surrender of their fort to the French, they had wanted no more to do with the militia, and had resumed their solitary lives in the woods.

While the majority of the men remained at Great Meadows, Hunter and Elliott were with George Washington exploring the Youghiogheny, a branch of the Monongahela, when a messenger arrived from Monacatootha, the chief who had accompanied the young lieutenant colonel to Fort Le Boeuf the previous fall. Having been humiliated by the French when he had voiced the Indians' demands that they leave the Ohio Valley, he was a staunch ally of the British. Washington had every reason to trust him.

"Monacatootha says the French have left their fort in search of Englishmen to fight. They may be no more than twenty miles distant," Washington warned.

A decision was quickly made to return to Great Meadows and, as the others started back down the river, Elliott drew Hunter aside. "You were hired as a scout, not a soldier. If you wish to leave, as Trent's men did, no one will call you a coward."

Hunter could not look at either Elliott or Byron without being reminded of Melissa. Neither was as blond as his sister, but their eyes were just as vivid a blue. He did not believe she would be favorably impressed if he were to leave her brothers to face the French alone, but he chose not to mention his desire to please her in his reply.

"I won't leave before my job is done, and you still need me to track the French."

"Well, yes, that's true, but—"

Hunter rested his hand lightly on Elliott's shoulder. "I don't carry a musket, but that doesn't mean I don't know how to fire one."

Elliott studied the Indian's sly smile, and readily guessed its meaning. "You're probably the best shot in camp, aren't you?"

"Do you want to arrange a contest?"

Elliott had to laugh. "No, not yet, but I'm glad you'll stay with us. I think you'll bring us luck."

"You are going to need it."

"Yes, I know. Now come on, let's hurry. We don't want to be left behind."

Hunter was not concerned about falling behind and becoming lost, but he could see Elliott was, and hurried him along rather than tease him about it.

Great Meadows was surrounded by wooded hills and on one side furrowed by a gully. As soon as his scouting party returned to camp, Washington set part of his men to work deepening the gully to form an entrenchment, while the others cleared the open field of shrubs to prepare for battle. Rather than help with that effort, Hunter went out to search the woods for the advancing enemy. At dusk he returned to the meadow where most of the men were too excited to eat, but he helped himself to the rice and salt pork the cooks had prepared, and went to sleep early.

The next morning he again scoured the woods for some sign of French soldiers, but returned to camp without having gathered any valuable intelligence. He knew they were coming, but apparently they were moving much slower than anyone had anticipated, or perhaps they were circling wide to approach them from an unexpected direction. Whatever their plan, Hunter did not like it anymore than he relished the thought of battling them on a wide plain, where the only cover was a shallow ditch.

The next morning, Christopher Gist paid them a visit. He had served as a guide on Washington's fall expedition, and now lived at a settlement on the far side of Laurel Hill. He had traveled a dozen miles to bring important news.

"There must have been fifty Frenchmen at my house yesterday. They would have stolen everything had the Indians who care for the place not been there. You've enough men here to defeat them easily."

Volunteers were plentiful, and with Gist's directions, seventy-five men went out to search for the French, but they had no better luck than Hunter had in finding them and, discouraged, returned to camp before nightfall. Soon after, another messenger arrived from Monacatootha, who had found suspicious tracks and believed he had discovered where the French were hiding. Taking forty men, Washington led this search party himself. It was now dark and raining, but the men followed in a weary procession that lasted until dawn.

Blessed with greater stamina than most men, Hunter traveled fast and stayed near the head of the line, but occasionally he would drop back to make certain Elliott was still with them. The rain had turned the narrow path into a slippery quagmire that tugged at the soles of the men's boots one minute, and then turned slick as a wet mirror the next. In the darkness, men who stumbled and lagged behind soon found themselves lost in the dense forest, and unable to call out for help for fear of alerting the French, they had to huddle alone until dawn. When Washington at last arrived at the place where Monacatootha was camped with a dozen of his warriors, seven of his soldiers had been lost.

Eager to fight the French, two of Monacatootha's warriors led the way; again traveling in single file, the men of the Virginia Regiment and their Indian allies followed the suspicious tracks to a rocky ravine. Finding a small force of French soldiers encamped there, Washington gave the order to fire. While one Canadian managed to escape, within a few minutes ten of the Frenchmen were killed, including the ensign, Coulon de Jumonville, who was slain by Monacatootha. The fury of the fighting was enough to prompt the surviving twenty-two men to surrender.

Splattered with the blood of their slain comrades, and terrified, the captured men hurriedly explained that they had been sent by the Sieur de Contrecoeur, the commandant of Fort Duquesne, the newly constructed fortress named for the Governor of New France, which now stood on the site originally occupied by Ensign Ward. They swore they had been on a peaceful mission, to deliver a summons warning the English to withdraw from lands belonging to the King of France, or be forced to go.

"How do you expect us to believe you meant to deliver such a summons, when we found you hiding in a ravine?" Washington asked through his interpreter. "Clearly you are spies, not messengers."

"No, that's not true!" one of Frenchmen protested. "We left Fort Duquesne five days ago with orders to deliver the summons to the first Englishman we met. We observed your camp, and as ordered, sent two men with word for Contrecoeur that we intended to speak with you. We were camped here, awaiting his reply."

"That makes absolutely no sense," Washington scoffed. "You were told to seek out any Englishman, but to notify Contrecoeur before you actually approached him?"

"Yes, sir. Those were our orders."

Washington glanced toward Elliott, who shook his head. Such contradictory orders were absurd, unless Contrecoeur had meant to respond with whatever force would be necessary to enforce the summons. If there were a thousand men at Fort Duquesne, why hadn't he sent more than thirty-five in the first place? Washington felt that his first impression was correct: he had surprised a party of spies, who had been told to mention a summons should they be caught. Disgusted, he marched his prisoners back to Great Meadows under heavy guard.

* * *

Their return with French prisoners was greeted with celebration, but fearing a swift reprisal from Fort Duquesne, Washington quickly channeled his troops' energy into building a log stockade, which was aptly named Fort Necessity. Monacatootha arrived with a woman known as Queen Alequippa, and more than two dozen braves and their families. Their force still dangerously small, however, Washington sent Christopher Gist to Will's Creek to urge Colonel Fry to bring up the rest of the regiment.

Gist returned with the sad news that Colonel Fry had fallen ill and died, but the remaining three companies of the regiment soon marched into camp, swelling Washington's force to three hundred. They were followed by a company of British regulars from South Carolina, commanded by a Captain Mackay. Mackay's commission had been granted by the king, and he was unwilling to take orders from Washington, who had been appointed by the governor of Virginia. The soldiers under his command were no more cooperative, and refused to work without extra pay.