Certainly, he had performed a routine check of the equipment. But with the saddle already in place, he had missed this.
In the confusion of handling Thompson's mare this morning, Black Eagle had overlooked asking Sarah if she had saddled the animal. Clearly, this had been a mistake, for had he done so, he would have realized that she hadn't accomplished it, and that something else was afoot.
Of course, Black Eagle hadn't expected to have to give the saddles undo attention. Hadn't he observed their ill repair at the beginning of their trip? Hadn't he demanded and received new saddles? There shouldn't have been a problem.
But there was.
Briefly Black Eagle looked up from his work to take note of his surroundings. He had positioned himself on a large, flat rock that was situated next to the Lake-that-turns-to-rapids, a body of water that skirted their camp. As he looked westward, across the cool, clear water, he reminded himself of the lake's deceptive nature.
The lake was aptly named. Farther to the west the pool made a sharp turn and began to flow downstream. From that moment on, the character of the water changed from one of calm negligence, to one of sharp rocks, waterfalls with white-crested waves, deep currents and eddies. It was known to his people as a watery grave, and thus it was a place to avoid, especially since here, a little farther to the east, was a calmer water. A place made for easy crossings.
Across the water, his attention centered on the deep, dark forest that characterized that part of the country. It was a territory that bordered between Mohawk and Abenaki land, and since it was fused between the two warring tribes, the forest was not frequently used by either Mohawk or Abenaki hunting parties. Thus there would be weeds and undergrowth that would make their travel difficult.
But it was still the best route to take, if they continued onward. He had hoped to discourage the women from leading their horses through such a place. But seeing their dependency on their trunks, which contained their dishes and clothing, he had abandoned that hope.
Glancing back toward his work, he examined the cut leather. At least the damage was repairable, he thought, and he set himself to work. Gradually, the familiarity of the chore, as well as the calming sound of the water hitting the shoreline, allowed his mind to wander.
Marisa's screams from earlier in the day echoed in his memory. The sound had been heart-stopping, and taken as a whole, amidst the neighing and commotion of the horses, he had thought the women were under attack.
And so they had been, but not from a wandering war party. No, the assault today was something more sinister; at least with a war party, one knew and could understand what he faced. Not so this enemy.
The scene that had met Black Eagle, had been a vision he didn't want to relive, yet the memory kept replaying in his mind. There Marisa had been, huddled on the ground between two horses, one of them with its hooves raised high in the air, ready to trample her.
Even now, he didn't like to consider what might have been, had he been a trifle late. But one thing was certain. What had happened here this day was no accident. Though the leather had been cut to appear jagged and to give the impression that wear alone had severed it, it was evident to Black Eagle that these straps had been deliberately slashed.
It had been for this reason, and this reason alone, that he had issued the decision to make camp early. Not only did he require the daylight to inspect the damage done and to ponder over the probable cause, it would also be easier to mend the saddle in the light of day.
As he continued his work, he noticed that the women had come to sit close by to him, and he listened to them at their work; they were at present engaged in preparing the midday meal. Their feminine chatter was a familiar sound, and the background noise of their voices served to quiet his thoughts, at least a little. For a moment, he let his mind drift from what was really plaguing him, to the women. What would they say, what would they do, if he suggested that they return to Albany?
At present it seemed the only safe alternative for them, and he would put his concerns to them as soon as possible. To continue onward would be insane: This had been no accident.
It was also evident to him that the culprit was Thompson. Who else could it be?
What Black Eagle didn't understand was why. Why was Thompson sabotaging their trip? As its master, wasn't it his duty to ensure their safety? And if Thompson were guiltyâand he had to beâwas he not then capable of anything?
Out of the corner of his eye, Black Eagle noted that the two women ceased their work. Arising, Marisa took off in the direction of the horses, opposite him, perhaps to check their food supply, while the other woman, Miss Sarah, approached near to him, her direction headed toward the water. As she came in closer, however, she hesitated, then stepped toward him. She said, “Sir Eagle, is the saddle able to be repaired?”
“It is,” he replied without looking up at her.
“May I see it, please? ”
He nodded, and she strode toward him. Reaching out, she fingered the leather where it had split apart, then she set the pieces back on the ground. “Thank you,” she muttered, turning to leave.
But Black Eagle needed some hard questions answered, and this woman might have knowledge of a few facts that were not evident to him. Setting back to work, and without looking up at her, he asked, “Has Thompson a reason to seek vengeance on
Ahweyoh
?”
“Ahweyoh?”
“Miss Marisa,” he explained. “Has Thompson any reason to want her death?”
“Thompson? Miss Marisa? Why no,” answered Sarah. “Why do you ask?”
Instead of answering her question, he asked another. “Are you certain there is no quarrel between her family and his?”
“No, none.”
“Has any blood been spilled between them?”
“Of course not. Miss Marisa has led a sheltered life. In all her existence at the Rathburn estate, I am certain that she has rarely, if ever, spoken to the man.”
Black Eagle nodded.
“Sir, have you a reason to ask?”
“I do.”
“And that reason is?”
Briefly, he glanced up toward the woman. “This”âhe raised the leatherâ“was no accident.”
Sarah frowned. “Are you certain? It seems clearly evident to me that the leather is worn.”
“So it would appear to the casual eye. But
Ahweyoh
's and your saddle are almost new. Before we left, I ensured this, myself.”
Sarah paused, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “What you're suggesting, sir, is that t'was done deliberately?”
He didn't answer immediately. In keeping with Mohawk tradition, Black Eagle took his time in replying, choosing his words with caution. Thus, when he spoke, he didn't answer Sarah's question, but went on to say, “In trying to understand a matter that is incomprehensible, it is ofttimes necessary to ask questions. It is not my intention to alarm you, but rather to obtain facts.”
“But they barely know one another,” Sarah uttered. “Richard Thompson is a business acquaintance of John Rathburn, and John Rathburn is Miss Marisa's guardian, as well as her step-uncle.”
Black Eagle nodded. “Then
Ahweyoh
did not hire Thompson?”
“I should say not. Such arrangements are carried on by the men of the family, and that man would be John Rathburn.”
Black Eagle nodded, and believing their conversation was at an end, Black Eagle mentally dismissed the woman and set back to work.
However, it appeared that Sarah had further questions, for she went on to say, “Sir, since Miss Marisa's guardian is not here to put some pointed questions to you, I feel it my duty to inquire after a matter of importance.”
Black Eagle nodded, but did not look up. He said, “I am listening.”
“Sir, what are your intentions as regards Miss Marisa?”
Black Eagle raised his head, and looking up at the woman who was
Ahweyoh
's companion, he stared openly at her. Then he again dropped his gaze, looking back toward his work. He said, “It is my intention to make her my woman, if she will have me.”
“And by âmake her your woman,' do you mean that you intend to marry her?”
“I do.”
Sarah paused briefly before saying, “Then allow me to warn you, sir, that such a union can never be. Miss Marisa was but four years of age when her parents died and she was taken into the care of John Rathburn. Since that time, Miss Marisa has been carefully groomed to marry a man of position within Colonial society, a man who will be chosen by John Rathburn when the time comes for Miss Marisa to marry, which will be soon. Therefore, it would do well for you to realize that though Miss Marisa may be fond of you, there is no future in courting her. For her sake, and for your own, I would ask you to refrain from actions that could steal her heart. I, for one, would not see her heartbroken.”
Black Eagle inclined his head, hesitating a moment in consideration. In due time, however, he said, “Then she has promised herself to another?”
“Not yet. But she is of age to marry, and soon her guardian will settle her with a man of his choice.”
“Of his choice? She is not free to choose a husband of her own accord?”
“No.”
Black Eagle's pause was stretched out a little longer this time, and he said, “The English have many customs that baffle the Indian heart. How does this man, her guardian, expect
Ahweyoh
to be happy under such an arrangement?”
“He does not expect her to be happy. Marriages are seldom a matter of the heart. Surely you know this. They are made to settle estates, to join families of prominent people and to promote the general wealth of the two families.”
“And happiness is not a consideration?”
“No, although it sometimes happens that couples become happy with one another in time.”
“And the children from such a union, are they cheerful?”
Sarah sighed. “I wouldn't know.”
“Do you come from such a family?”
“Indeed, I do not. My mother and father were in love, but they were simple folk, of Dutch descent and not English.”
Black Eagle nodded. “I appreciate what you say,” he uttered, “and you are a good woman to protect the one who is in your care. But what sort of man would I be if I didn't endeavor to make myself known to the woman who holds my heart?”
“A very good man, I should think” said Sarah at once, “since I fear that your actions might hurt her, and yourself, too. Please try to understand that what you suggest can never take place. The English will not permit it.”
Looking up fleetingly from his work, he said, “Why would the English not permit it?”
Sarah glanced this way and that, looking anywhere but at him. At length, however, she said, “If you must know, though the English might make treaties with your people and hold to a covenant chain with them, the truth is that they consider the Indian, all Indians, beneath them.”
Black Eagle might have been insulted, but he wasn't. Instead he nodded, and said, “Ah, now I understand. On occasion my people also think the same way about the English. All I can promise you now is that I will consider all that you have said, and I thank you for bringing this to my attention.”
Sarah might have gone on to explain more, but Marisa had returned and outside of exhaling a heartfelt sigh, Sarah remained silent. However, before she left, she added, “Please consider it well.” And turning on her heel, she was gone.
It was all very illuminating, thought Black Eagle. Apparently attaining
Ahweyoh
's favor as a husband might be a harder task than even he had appreciated. Perhaps it was, as Miss Sarah said, impossible, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try.
As Black Eagle returned his attention to the leather cinches, he realized that, outside of Sarah's warnings about the Englishman's strange rules for marriage, there was one very important detail in their conversation: Thompson had no blood vengeance to account for his actions.
If
Ahweyoh
had done him some wrong, then it would be easier to understand why Thompson might be attempting to kill her.
But to seek to murder a person without some justifiable reason was insane, unless there was more here to be understood. To his way of thinking, there were few reasons to excuse murder. Blood revenge was one. But according to Sarah, and to Marisa, herself, there was no such reason. Defending oneself or one's family against an enemy was another. But
Ahweyoh
was hardly Thompson's enemy.
Bringing war to a man or to a tribe that had done you an injustice was another reason that might excuse murder, although the injustice had to be great, since the action of taking another man's life was akin to entombing oneself in an eternal conflict with another's soul.
But a white man could be bought with the Englishman's gold nuggets.
Black Eagle frowned. The concept was one that was foreign to an Indian mind. However, Black Eagle had often heard William Johnson talk of this sort of arrangement.
Had another person enlisted Thompson to kill Marisa?
It would explain much if this were so; the lack of driving cause, the underhanded manner in which the deeds were being attempted, the method by which Thompson sought to blame another, thus bringing doubt upon Black Eagle's character.
Yet, if this were so, if someone had hired Thompson to do his dirty work, who was this unknown person?
Black Eagle shook his head. It was unlikely that he would know such a person's identification, since he did not have knowledge of
Ahweyoh
's acquaintances. However, one thing was certain: If someone had lured Thompson into committing murder, that person would likely be situated in Albany. And if this were so, then that city was not a safe place for his
Ahweyoh
.