Kings Pinnacle (12 page)

The stranger had been a
scout for the Pennsylvania militia in his younger days, but he had
been discharged for theft and now made his living by his wits as
best as he could. He knew that Samuel Ruskin had been asking around
town for a guide to lead him and his small party west to trade with
the Iroquois. Based on the talk and who was passing it around, he
guessed that it was either whiskey or guns. It didn’t matter to him
which one it was as long as there was a coin to be made. So he
found out where Samuel Ruskin was located and soon spotted him in
the tavern. He had been drinking ale and eying Samuel and his two
friends for some time before he walked up to their table. It didn’t
take long in the conversation for him to realize what kind of man
Samuel Ruskin was and that happened to be a man after his own
heart.

“
What can I call you?”
asked Samuel.

“
My name’s Tom Jenkins,”
replied the scout as the two men shook hands and sat down to work
out the details of their arrangement.

* * * *

Alex

“
Ye are welcome to bunk
with me at my cabin west of Fort Cumberland for a while till ye
figure out what ye want to do or where ye want to go, lad,” said
the Longhunter.

As soon as it had become
clear the Iroquois band had retreated, the ferrymen had returned
the ferry to Williamsport, again unloading the people and animals,
this time including Alex and the Longhunter. Alex and the
Longhunter had stayed in Williamsport for a couple of weeks while
the Longhunter resupplied. The Longhunter talked to some of his old
acquaintances and acquired two horses. He spent most of his coins
at the dry goods store in Williamsport run by an Irish couple, Sean
Kelly and his wife, purchasing a few items he could not beg or
borrow to tide him over until he could hunt and trade again. The
Longhunter had lost practically everything he owned to the Iroquois
except his rifle and the clothes on his back. Since he had just
been back east to trade his furs, he had enough coins in the pouch
at his belt to pay for the horses and basic items that he needed.
But he would have to get to hunting soon to replenish his stash of
food and furs. Alex had dropped his rucksack back at the ambush
site with his few possessions in it, but he still had his musket,
powder horn, boot knife, dirk, and few coins in his pocket. While
in Williamsport, Alex earned a few extra coins doing odd jobs for
local merchants, so he could make a few necessary purchases. The
Longhunter had previously done business with the Kellys, who had no
children, and they gave the Longhunter and Alex good prices on
their purchases.

When they had acquired
everything they could afford, Alex and the Longhunter once again
set out on The Great Wagon Road, heading west out of Williamsport.
They followed the main trail for about two miles and then left it
to continue on westward along the banks of the Potomac. The Great
Wagon Road turned south at this point on its way toward Winchester,
Virginia, and away from the Longhunter’s cabin. Following the route
along the banks of the Potomac River, the two men passed deeper
into the virgin forest. They stopped briefly at Fort Cumberland to
resupply and gather any news to be had. The local militia, called
the Maryland Rangers, was permanently stationed at Fort Cumberland.
Most of the Rangers were out on a patrol, so there was no major
news to be learned. But the Longhunter had many friends at the
fort, and he and Alex were well-received and well-fed during their
visit there.

They left the fort and rode
further west toward the Longhunter’s cabin, with the Longhunter
riding a dappled grey horse and Alex riding a sleek roan pony that
was still a bit untamed. Those had been the only two horses for
sale in Williamsport, and the Longhunter had been lucky to find
them. The roan pony had been found wandering nearby and one of the
town’s men had chased it down. Speculation around town was that it
had belonged to an Iroquois who had met an untimely end. The pony
was swift and reminded Alex of Hack. Alex wondered how Hack was
doing back in Scotland. He also wondered how his bothers and father
were getting along. He still missed them badly, but his new
association with the Longhunter had helped fill the void and made
him feel not quite so alone in America.

“Looks like some smoke just
o’er the tree line there,” said the Longhunter, pointing to the
southwest, when the two men rode out from under the trees into a
small clearing.

“Anything over in that
direction?” asked Alex.

“There’s an Irish settler
family just put up a cabin in that direction a few months back,”
replied the Longhunter. “I was by their cabin a couple of times and
traded with them a bit. They’re related to that Irish couple that
owns the dry goods store in Williamsport.”

“Maybe we should take a
look,” stated Alex.

They kicked their horses to
a trot and veered off on some game trails to the southwest to see
about the smoke. After a few miles of easy riding, they spotted the
burned out cabin.

“Looks like that same
raiding party that we ran into at the ferry may have moved into
this area or this might be the work of a different band. There’s a
whole bunch of Iroquois bands that live west of Fort Cumberland,”
said the Longhunter.

“Let’s take a look and see
if anybody survived the raid and the fire,” said Alex as he grabbed
his reins and was just about to kick his pony forward.

“Whoa, lad,” said the
Longhunter lifting up his rifle and pulling the sheath off of it.
“That raiding party might still be around. Let’s take it real
cautious-like.”

Alex pulled up his rifle
also as the two men dismounted and slowly walked, leading their
horses, up to the cabin. The fire was mostly out and the cabin was
almost completely gutted, but still smoking. The smell of burned
flesh led the two men to the bodies of the man and a woman who were
about the same size. They were both burned beyond recognition
inside the cabin.

“There’s no sign of the
Iroquois. I think they’ve gone,” said the Longhunter.

“This is not what I was
hoping to find,” said Alex, looking at the dead bodies.

“What bothers me is what we
didn’t find, lad.”

“What do you
mean?”

“This couple had a daughter
about your age,” said the Longhunter with a frown.

* * * *

* * * *

Robert and Hugh

“
Robber, where’re all the
soldiers?” asked Hugh.

Robert shook his head as the
two brothers slowly rode past the castle in the town of Stranraer.
The medieval tower house, called the Castle of St. John, was
located in the center of the village. It had been a military
garrison during the Killing Times in the 1680s. The Killing Times
were a period in Scottish history when the English government
attempted to suppress the Presbyterian religion in Scotland by
stamping out sedition using field executions without a trial. But
these days the castle was no longer manned with a full garrison. It
now contained a few safe-keeping troops who provided only a token
military presence in the town. Since Stranraer was not a ferry port
for cattle or passengers, the troops were not on high alert and
were probably not looking for the two brothers.

Robert and Hugh soon found
their way to an empty table at an inn near the waterfront docks.
One of the main sources of income for Stranraer was the fishing
fleet. Each day the fishing boats left early in the morning to fish
Loch Ryan. And they returned every evening to the docks where they
were tied up for the night. The innkeeper was a tall, fat man
wearing a short apron. He strolled up to their table with a dirty
towel in his hand, wiping a tankard with it.

“
What can I do for ye
lads?” asked the innkeeper.

“
We’re famous highwaymen,
and we be looking for all the soldiers so we can turn ourselves
in,” replied Hugh with a grin, having some fun with the
innkeeper.

“The Sheriff of Wigtown and
the Lord Advocate are currently holding court in St. John’s. Will
that do ye?” replied the innkeeper, wanting nothing to do with the
levity.

“
In that case, we’d better
have a pint of ale each before we ride over there and surrender to
the sheriff,” said Hugh, still grinning at the
innkeeper.

The fat innkeeper gave Hugh an
exasperated sneer and walked off to fetch the pints.

“
What do you think we
ought to do?” asked Hugh, turning his head to look at
Robert.

“
I think we ought to
finish off our ale and then take a walk down by the docks,” said
Robert.

Robert and Hugh drank their
pints slowly, paid the innkeeper, and then strolled out of the inn
down to the docks, trying not to attract too much attention. As
they walked along the docks, Robert observed the men and boys who
were working there, evaluating each of them and either discarding
them or filing them in his mind for future inquiry. The fishing
fleet had just arrived and tied up at the docks, so there were a
lot of men and boys milling about unloading the day’s catch of
fish. Robert finally selected an old fisherman who was repairing
nets and walked up to him.

“
Guid Sir, I was wondering
if I might be asking ye a question?” Robert queried the old
fisherman.

“
Course ye can laddie,”
replied the old man, stopping his work and turning toward Robert
and Hugh.

“
Me brither and I are
looking to hire a fishing boat to go out on the loch and I was
wondering if ye might be able to direct us to a likely
one?”

“Aye, laddie, I might be
able to help ye me self. Why do ye want to go out on the loch?”
asked the old fisherman.

“
We thought about trying
our luck at fishing,” said Robert meekly.

“
I see,” said the
fisherman as he looked both ways to see if anyone was eavesdropping
on the conversation.

As a group of dockworkers
and fishermen walked by, the old man said, “I’m sorry lads, but I
can’t help ye,” in a loud voice, and he stuck out his hand to shake
hands with Robert. Then, as he shook hands with Robert, the old
fisherman leaned toward him so that his mouth was close to Robert’s
ear.

“
Meet me on the tip of the
Scar at midnight tonight and bring two pounds, all in coins,”
whispered the old fisherman in Robert’s ear.

Robert acted like he hadn’t
heard the whisper, but as he turned away, he glanced toward the old
man and gave him a slight nod, indicating to him that he had heard
and was giving his assent. He and Hugh continued walking along the
dock as if their task was not yet complete. After they had walked
along the docks for a while, they turned and strolled back toward
the inn.

“
What’s the Scar, Robber?”
asked Hugh as soon as they were out of earshot of
anyone.

“I’ve heard of the Scar but
have never seen it. It’s a mile long sandbank near the middle of
the western shore of Loch Ryan, where the shore turns to the
southwest. The Scar juts out into the loch almost due south from
that point. It extends well out into the loch. It looks like the
barb on a fishhook. It’s said that the Scar has caused many a
shipwreck over the years. Most sailors wouldn’t expect it to be
where it is and to extend so far out into the loch. The loch itself
is supposed to be about eight miles long, and I’d say the Scar
connects to the shore about four or five miles north of Stranraer.
We would have to ride north along the west shore of the loch and
when we get to the Scar, turn back to ride almost due south along
it back out to the tip,” said Robert as they strolled toward the
inn.

“Let’s get back to the inn,
get something to eat, stable our horses, and rent a room so we can
get some sleep. It’s likely going to be a long night,” continued
Robert as he led the way back into the inn.

* * * *

Alex

The Iroquois raiding party
was fairly easy to follow since the trail was fresh and they were
not trying to hide their tracks. They also had no idea that they
were being followed. The Longhunter and Alex had given the pioneer
couple as decent a burial as they could, in spite of the urgency of
the situation. They paused and said a few words over the hastily
dug grave before they mounted their horses and rode off at a trot.
To save time, they had buried the couple side-by-side in one grave,
thinking that the couple wouldn’t mind and maybe even would have
preferred it.