WAS IT A TRICK?
Not long after Wahbunou’s disappearance, a chill north wind blew into
the lush Kentucky valley, warning the Hudsons that winter was not far
away. Frosty mornings greeted them, and the trees putting on their
mantles of brown, red and gold, told them it was time to harvest both
turnips and corn.
Jim and Pa spent several days gathering them, while Ma did sentinel duty
sitting on a stump with her rifle ready for use. But she was uneasy
while on guard, jumping at each snap of a twig.
Finally the corn was shucked and piled high in one corner of the cabin.
Pa stored the turnips in a deep hole near the lean-to, so they would
keep all winter. One nippy day when the harvest was finished, Pa turned
to Jim after breakfast. “Jim, let’s go hunting today. I’d like to lay in
a supply of game before it gets any colder.”
Jim’s blue eyes sparkled. “Today, Pa?”
“Today’s as good as any time, Jim.”
Ma looked troubled. “Must you go, Pa?”
Pa nodded and patted his wife’s shoulder awkwardly. “Now Ma, you’ve been
nervous and upset ever since Wahbunou went away. I’d think you’d want us
to go hunting. Only yesterday you said you were tired of living on
rabbit. You’ll be all right here, but don’t leave the cabin. We’ll be
home by early evening.”
Ma squared her shoulders and bristled a little. “Pa, I haven’t been any
more upset than usual. You know I’ve never liked this country; I want to
go back to Virginia.” She sighed. “I do know we need fresh meat. Well,
I’ll spend the day spinning my flax.”
Pa’s brown eyes sparkled in relief. “That’s a good girl, Ma. Who knows?
Maybe we’ll get a deer. Then you’ll have a deerskin to make a jacket and
some leggings.”
“Or maybe we’ll get a bear,” Jim boasted.
Soon they were ready to go. Jim was dressed exactly like his father.
Each wore home-made moccasins, fur caps, loose thin homespun trousers,
topped by long fringed hunting shirts reaching nearly to their knees.
Their shirts were held in at the waist by broad belts.
Pa hung his long knife from his belt and Jim started down the clearing,
carrying Pa’s heavy flintlock rifle. It was as long as Jim was tall and
difficult for him to carry, but he tried to manage it proudly.
As Pa went striding through the thick woods, Jim did his best to keep up
with him. Now and then a squirrel darted along in front of them, or a
few wild turkeys flew over their heads, frightened by their approach.
Jim stopped and started to raise his rifle. “Let’s shoot some turkeys,
Pa. Ma always likes to cook turkey.”
Pa smiled and shook his head. “Not now, Jim. We’re out for bigger game.
On the way back we’ll bag a few squirrels and turkeys. Then we won’t
have to carry them so far.”
A little farther on, Pa said, “If you should happen to see a bear or
deer, Jim, don’t be in a hurry to fire. Wait until the animal is close
to you. That Deckard works best if you fire it at close range. Always
remember, son, don’t get excited and fire too soon.”
“I’ll remember, Pa.”
Along about noon Jim suddenly froze in his tracks, certain that he had
seen a deer. Pa stopped, glanced in the direction Jim was looking and
nodded. The deer evidently had not picked up their scent, as it
continued to wander slowly toward them.
Without a sound Jim brought his rifle to rest in a nearby tree notch and
waited. When it seemed the approaching deer would surely see them, he
fired.
“Good boy, Jim,” Pa cried excitedly. “You got him on the first shot.”
[Illustration: uncaptioned]
Jim was elated because it was his very first deer. Of course he had shot
rabbits near their cabin, but a deer was a real triumph. Pa cut a long
limb from a tree and stripped off its branches. Then he trussed the
deer’s legs with a long strip of wild grapevine.
“Now, Jim, help me to run this limb between the deer’s legs, so we can
carry it easily.”
In a jiffy they had the deer slung from the limb. Pa put one end of the
limb on Jim’s shoulder and the other on his own, so they could carry the
animal through the forest without difficulty. It was a fine young buck,
and would furnish plenty of meat for them, perhaps even a new hunting
shirt.
“Better give me the rifle now, Jim. It’s most too heavy for you with
that limb on your shoulder. We’ll work our way home by Coon Hollow
Trace. There’s always plenty of game in that neighborhood.”
When they arrived at Coon Hollow, a small crossroads in the forest, Jim
said, “Look, Pa. I think I see someone coming down that trace.” He
nodded toward the north.
Instantly Pa laid the deer on the ground and held his rifle ready. He
peered ahead for a moment, then said, “I see two men, Jim, and I think
one’s leading a pack horse. We’ll wait a little.”
As the men came nearer, Pa suddenly recognized the taller one. “George
Rogers Clark! As I live and breathe.” Then he raised his arm in
greeting. “Howdy, Mr. Clark. I don’t reckon you remember me. I’m Jim
Hudson. I used to work the land bordering your father’s farm back in
Virginia. And this is my son, Jim.”
The tall, red-haired man looked at Pa Hudson for a moment and then
smiled, his hazel eyes shining and friendly. He shook hands with Jim,
then with Pa. “Of course I remember you, Hudson.” He gestured toward his
companion. “This is Tom Shelton. He’s one of the settlers going back to
Virginia with me.”
“Howdy,” Tom Shelton said, shaking Pa’s hand.
George Rogers Clark looked inquiringly at the Hudsons. Then he asked,
“What are you doing out here so far from Virginia?”
“We came out here three years ago,” Pa replied, “to take up a claim.
It’s wonderful land; my boy and I are clearing it as fast as we can.”
While Pa talked about his dreams for his claim, Jim stared at the
splendidly built man his father had called Mr. Clark. He was taller than
Pa, young too, and most impressive-looking.
Tom Shelton shook his head when Pa paused for breath. “No more Kentucky
for me. I’m beat. I can’t take these Indian raids any longer. Last week
finished me. My nearest neighbors were attacked and taken prisoners. I
got all my possessions with me.” He nodded toward the heavily laden pack
horse. “Many of us settlers are going back with Colonel Clark. Better
join us, Hudson.”
“Colonel Clark!” Pa exclaimed. “So you’re a colonel now, sir.”
The colonel seemed not to have heard Pa’s exclamation. He shook his head
gravely. “This Indian situation is bad. They’re more stirred up than
ever this season.”
Pa bristled. “There’s no Indians going to scare me off my land. I got a
good warm cabin and quite a few acres cleared. I’m staying.”
Colonel Clark nodded and smiled. “I like your spirit, Hudson, but if I
were you, I’d take my family and crops up to Harrodsburg. Stay there
until these Indians quiet down a little.”
Pa shook his head. “I mean to stay, sir. I got through last winter all
right. We’ve never been molested.”
Colonel Clark put his hand on Pa’s shoulder. “We could use more brave
men like you out here, Hudson, but the Indians are really on the warpath
now. I can’t prove it, but I hear Hamilton’s paying the Indians for all
of the prisoners they deliver to him at Detroit—paying them well, too.”
“Hamilton? Who’s he, sir?”
“The British commander in charge of all the western country, stationed
at Detroit. I hear he’s got the Indians really aroused. Better take your
family to Harrodsburg for a while.”
Pa scratched his ear. “Harrodsburg? That’s a far piece from here. Why
not to McClellan’s Fort?”
The colonel looked grim. “Haven’t you heard, Hudson? Burned out by the
Indians early this year.”
“Think it over, Hudson,” put in Tom Shelton. “Better stay alive in the
fort than dead on your claim. Or better yet, go back to Virginia with
us. We’ll be leaving in a few days, won’t we, Colonel?”
Clark nodded. “As soon as I get the settlers together who want to go
back with me. I’ll be back in the spring.”
Pa shifted from one foot to the other. “That’s good news, sir, that
you’ll be back. Thanks for your advice. I’ll think it over, but I’m not
going back to Virginia. We got to be getting along home now.”
The colonel shook hands again with Pa and Jim. “Glad to have seen you,
Hudson. Good luck. Better get up to Harrodsburg as soon as you can.” He
and Shelton moved off along the trace.
When the men had gone and Jim and Pa had been trudging along for a
while, Jim asked, “Pa, should we go to Harrodsburg?”
Pa didn’t reply for so long Jim was afraid he had made him angry.
Finally Pa sighed and said, “I know your ma has been mighty upset since
Wahbunou disappeared. And Colonel Clark’s not one to be aroused without
cause. Maybe we ought to take our meat and provisions to the fort, at
least until this Indian scare blows over. I wouldn’t want anything to
happen to you and Ma.”
“But I wouldn’t want to lose our farm, Pa.”
“We wouldn’t lose it, Jim. No Indian’s going to squat very long on our
land. They’re a roving people. The worst they could do would be to burn
our cabin, and we could build another one, I guess. But I haven’t made
up my mind yet, Jim. Better not say anything to your ma about our
meeting with Colonel Clark today. No use getting her excited.”
“No,” Jim agreed. “She’s upset enough as it is.”
“If I decide we should go,” Pa continued, “she’ll be glad enough to
leave the farm and stay at the fort. So mind now, not a word to Ma.”
Jim nodded. “I wouldn’t want to worry Ma.”
On the way home they shot a squirrel and several wild turkeys, so when
they arrived at their cabin, they were well laden with the day’s
trophies.
“Oh, Pa!” Ma cried, running out to meet them, her blond hair flying. “I
thought you’d never come.” She clapped her hands when she saw the deer
hanging from the limb. “Oh, a deer! Now we’ll have plenty of meat.”
Pa smiled and pointed toward Jim. “He shot the deer, Ma. Got him on the
first shot. We have a squirrel and some turkeys too, so we’ve a lot of
work to do these next few days, jerking this meat.”
The next morning was quite cold as a north wind had risen in the valley
during the night. But the Hudsons began working early anyway. Jim helped
Pa cut the deer meat into long strips and spread it to dry in the sun.
Pa glanced toward the sun. “I think maybe we’ll have to smoke this meat
after all, Jim. This sun isn’t warm enough to cure meat.”
Once the norther had passed, however, the weather did warm considerably;
Pa said they were feeling the last breath of summer. While father and
son worked with the meat, Ma made two new shirts for them and a linsey
woolsey dress for herself. She didn’t mention Indians again, but she
seemed to be uneasy as soon as night fell.
On the evening they had the meat laid by, Pa said casually to his wife,
“Ma, I think we’ll take our provisions and go up to Harrodsburg for a
while.”
Jim glanced quickly at his father to see if he had seen or heard
anything alarming, but Pa’s face showed nothing at all.
Ma gasped in surprise. “To Harrodsburg, Pa? Do you mean to the fort?
Why?”
“Well, I’ve noticed you seem mighty jumpy lately and I thought we’d take
our provisions and join the settlers at the fort for a while. It would
give you a rest and a chance to hear the news and talk to someone else
besides me and Jim. It would be a change.”
Ma’s face glowed in anticipation and relief. “Oh, Pa, let’s do it. Let’s
go tomorrow before winter sets in and makes us prisoners here.”
Pa shook his head. “I’m not sure we can go tomorrow. But we’ll start
packing.”
Ma leaned forward in her chair and searched her husband’s face
anxiously. “What’s made you decide to leave our cabin, Pa? Have you seen
signs of Indians?”
Jim looked at his father again as Pa replied almost too casually,
“Haven’t seen anything, Ma. But we’ve done the chores and the
harvesting, so we can leave the farm for a spell now. Just got a
hankering to see people.”
Pa’s answer seemed to satisfy Ma Hudson because she was up early next
morning, and beginning to pack before Jim and Pa were awake. “I’ll take
my pots and the spinning wheel,” she said after breakfast, glancing
around their cabin.
Pa shook his head. “You can’t take all that stuff, Ma. We’ve only one
horse, remember. We can’t put everything we own on Nellie’s back.
They’ll have cooking utensils at the fort and I’m sure some one will
have a spinning wheel. We’ll take just the corn, turnips and all of our
meat.”
“May I take your drum, Pa?” put in Jim. “I’ll carry it. I can have fun
playing it for the other boys at the fort.”
Pa hesitated, glancing up at the drum. Then he smiled. “I guess if you
want to be responsible for it, you may take the drum. But mind, you hang
on to it.”
Finally they had the corn packed in two stout cloth sacks and hung on
one side of their horse’s saddle. Pa put the meat in a peddler’s pack
which he had brought from Virginia, with most of the turnips on top of
the meat. This pack he slung from the other side of the horse’s saddle.
Ma had tied a change of clothes and moccasins for each of them in a
large square of cloth.
When they were ready to leave, Ma sat on the horse, holding the pack of
clothes, while Pa led the horse with one hand and carried his trusty
Deckard with the other. Jim walked behind the horse, carrying Ma’s
rifle, the treasured drum and drumsticks.
As they left their clearing Pa said, “We’ll come home as soon as we
can.”
They trudged along silently, their moccasins and the horse’s hoofs,
swishing softly through the fallen leaves. Sometimes Ma hummed softly to
herself as if she were happy to be on the way to Harrodsburg. But Pa
gazed resolutely ahead.
They heard no other sounds for a mile or so.
Then without warning, they found themselves surrounded by a dozen
hideously painted Indians. Neither Pa nor Jim could raise their rifles
before the Indians had seized and securely bound them.
In trying to raise his rifle, Jim had dropped his drum and sticks, but
he was too frightened to notice this.
Ma screamed in terror as one of the Indians leaped upon her horse
Nellie, tied Ma’s hands and rode off with her into the woods. Two other
Indians tied leather thongs around Jim and Pa’s waists and began
dragging them along behind Ma’s captor.
The rest of the band picked up the rifles, drum and sticks and followed
along, their whooping and yelling piercing the calm autumn stillness.
Jim was terrified. He wondered if his father were; yet he could do
nothing but stumble along behind the Indian who kept jerking the leather
thong.
Although Jim was frightened, he did not forget what Pa had said when
they found Wahbunou in the woods. Had it been a trick? Were these
Indians some of Wahbunou’s people? Was this the thanks the Hudsons
received for caring for him?
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[Illustration: uncaptioned]