Touched that he understood her plight, Charity's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Oh my yes, it certainly is," she agreed.
Christian had awakened, but Alanna changed his diaper and kept him in the bedroom. She could overhear bits and pieces of the conversation taking place in the front room, and rejoiced that it appeared to be going so well. She liked both Charity and Randolph enormously, and hoped the gentle nudge toward friendship she was providing might develop into something more. When she finally took Christian out to join them, the subtle smiles passing between the pair convinced her it already had.
* * *
By the time Hunter caught up with General Braddock's forces, they were encamped at Will's Creek. Since he had last been there, the former Ohio Company's trading post had been fortified with a log stockade. Barracks and powder magazines had been constructed, and the site renamed Fort Cumberland. Consisting mainly of British regulars, joined by colonials and sailors, there were twenty-two hundred men under Braddock's command.
Located where the creek joined the Potomac River, the newly built fort was on a rise surrounded by thick stands of oak and chestnut. Teeming with men and crowded with pack animals and wagons, the fort presented such a disorganized maze, that it took Hunter half a day to find Byron. He knew better than to merely walk up and tap the young man on the shoulder, and so waited until an opportunity presented itself for him to approach Byron while he was alone.
Hunter started for him then, but he was still ten feet away when Byron glanced up and saw him. The look on his face was anything but welcoming, but Hunter kept right on coming. No fool, he came to a halt just beyond Byron's reach. "I have some very bad news for you," he announced so softly only Byron would hear.
Byron nodded toward the open gate of the fort; with Hunter following close behind, he skirted the wagons parked nearby and walked out into the forest. When he was certain their conversation would not be overheard by any curious strangers, he turned to face him. At first glance he hadn't noted much difference in Hunter, but now he saw the last ten months had given the brave's features the same lean, forbidding hardness he saw reflected in his own mirror.
"When we last parted, I'd no idea you'd seduced my sister. You couldn't possibly have any news worse than that."
Hunter attempted to explain how Melissa had spurned him rather than the other way around, but he could tell by the sheer meanness of Byron's sneer that he wasn't being heard. "I've married Alanna," he announced abruptly. "So you can't kill me, for her sake."
Killing him was precisely what Byron had been plotting, and he took a step forward. "You married Alanna just to keep us from killing you? I had no idea you were that great a coward."
Knowing how deeply Byron had been hurt, and would be again, Hunter refused to be insulted. "You fought with me last summer. You know I'm no coward."
Byron spit on the ground. "There are no words ugly enough to describe what you are!"
"I'm your cousin's husband, part of your family, but that isn't the bad news."
"The hell it isn't! What do my parents say about this?"
As they talked, Hunter kept a close watch on Byron's hands. He hadn't reached for his knife, but his fingers were curled inward, as though he soon might. "They won't listen to the truth, so they aren't pleased."
"Lying bastard, you don't even know what the truth is."
"And neither do you." Hunter waited a moment, and then, in as gentle a manner as he possibly could, he related how Elliott had died. He told the whole story: how he and Alanna had hidden in the forest, and later killed the braves who had murdered Elliott. He described bringing the body home, and the fine funeral his brother had had. When he finished, he waited for the questions he was certain Byron would want to ask.
Byron recalled the Abenaki who had attacked their wounded, but that they had killed Elliott was too painful a tragedy for him to accept. He listened to Hunter in dumbfounded silence; tears began to roll down his cheeks. Meaning to comfort him, Hunter took a step forward, but Byron shrank back.
"Get away from me. You spread death like the plague, and I don't want you anywhere near me! How can Alanna even stand the sight of you? She was never strong. Has she finally lost her mind? Is that what happened? She must be crazy to have married you!"
Hunter stared at the distraught young man. He could feel Byron's pain and shared it, but fearing that he was only adding to it, he started to back away. "It's a large camp. I'll stay out of your way."
He turned then and started back toward the fort. Byron hurled a rock at him, but it only glanced off his shoulder and he didn't break his stride. He had done his best, but he now felt like a fool for ever hoping Byron and he might again be friends.
* * *
General Braddock had three aides-de-camp: Capt. Robert Orme, Capt. Roger Morris, and Col. George Washington. It was to Washington that Hunter offered his services as a scout, and on the strength of his past service, he was welcomed enthusiastically. When on the tenth of June, 1755, the army began moving toward Fort Duquesne, he was out in front, combing the woods for any sign of the enemy they knew had to be aware of their approach.
Three hundred men swinging axes cleared the way, followed by packhorses, wagons, and cannon, while the red-coated British regulars and blue-coated Virginians marched through the trees on either side. The road carved out of the forest was twelve feet wide, and the line of march stretched back four miles. The men traversed steep ridges and shallow canyons, and crossed the countless streams that kept the forest floor damp even in summer. In an undulating stream they surged over the main Allegheny, Meadow Mountain, and Great Savage Mountain.
On June eighteenth, they straggled into Little Meadows. In eight days the long column had traveled only thirty miles from Fort Cumberland; plagued by fever and dysentery, the men were so disheartened and slow, they could make no more than three miles per day. After consulting with his officers, General Braddock took George Washington's advice, left the heavy gear behind, and moved on with a reduced command of twelve hundred.
Despite the fact they were bringing only the essential artillery, thirty wagons, and packhorses, the smaller force still crept along at a most unsatisfactory pace. The colonials were undismayed by the roughness of the road, while the British insisted upon leveling every bump and constructing bridges at each trickling creek. Bored with the slowness of their progress, Hunter repeatedly scouted the same terrain, but the French and their Indian allies remained unseen. Occasionally he would find an insult carved into a tree, but it struck him as a prank rather than an act of war.
On the seventh of July, Braddock's forces were within eight miles of Fort Duquesne. To avoid passing through particularly perilous country, they crossed the Monongahela River near the mouth of Turtle Creek, and traveled on the opposite side. Early the next afternoon, they re-crossed the river in preparation of their final approach to the French stronghold.
Lt. Col. Thomas Gage led the advance guard, followed by Colonel St. Clair with a work detail. Intending to intimidate the French, General Braddock himself was at the front of the remainder of the troops, creating a splendid parade marching to the accompaniment of fifes and drums. Colorful regimental standards waved in the sun-drenched air, as the light cavalry, sailors, British regulars, colonials, and artillerymen with their twelve-pound cannon and howitzers rolled by.
Hunter understood the general's purpose, for it was widely believed that when confronted by this superior force, Contrecoeur, who was still in command of Fort Duquesne, would surrender. He was known to have only eight hundred French and Canadian troops, but there was also an equal number of Indians camped nearby. In his most recent scouting expeditions, Hunter had gotten close enough to recognize their tribes. In addition to Abenakis, there were Caughnawagas, Hurons, Potawatomis, Ojibwas, Shawanoes, Mingoes, and Ottawas.
The colonials understood the Indians' love of warfare, but General Braddock discounted their abilities and considered them no match for his soldiers. The general expected the savages to flee at the first sound of cannon fire, but Hunter knew better. The entire journey he had lived in constant anticipation of an ambush. That morning he had crossed the river shortly after dawn, hoping to spring a trap and provide a warning if the place where they would ford the river had been fortified, but the natural site was undisturbed.