CHAPTER ONE
Their modest one floor log cabin was not as grand as her father’s one and a half story garrison house. But it was built with stout logs and had shutters at each window. There was a sleeping loft and a center stone hearth but there was no log palisade wall for added protection. Suddenly, Mary burst out of the corn beyond the barn sprinting toward the cabin. She was zig zagging as she ran to keep the painted attacker from grabbing her. Joseph had placed white stone markers at a measured distance from the house for an accurate musket range. Tamsen waited and watched the pair as the foot race continued. She raised the musket and aimed at Mary waiting for her to move right or left. She noted the stone marker. Mary swerved to the right as the savage lunged for her. Tamsen fired at the center of the red man’s chest. The acrid smoke of the powder flashing in the pan filled the room. The stock kicked against her shoulder as the musket report ricocheted around the small cabin. As the smoke cleared, she saw the race continuing. Instantly, she put the weapon down, Liz grabbed it and handed her the second one. Without looking, Tamsen raised it, cocking the hammer as she brought it up, and aimed at the attacker’s chest. Then it happened. The savage’s pace slowed. Pulsing spurts of dark red blood fountained from a neck wound. He slowed to a walk and grabbed his neck. A look of shock showed through the red and white war paint. Blood pulsed and squirted between his fingers. Mary dashed across the threshold, stopped, and stepped to the left away from the open doorway. She bent over, hands on her knees, her chest heaving. The painted warrior just stood there for a moment. Tamsen could see the whites of his eyes looking straight at the cabin. His mouth opened and closed. He slumped to his knees. Rivulets of blood cascaded down his chest. His eyes were a glassy stare fastened on the open doorway some sixty paces away. Then as if in slow motion the brave fell forward and was still. “They’re coming”, said Joseph who was peering through the gun port in the shutter. Another arrow arched out of the corn and hit beside the door. Then a musket fired, and the ball kicked up dirt before the doorway. “One’s crawled beside the house Mama”, he continued. “I can see his back under the window.” “Everyone be ready now,” said Tamsen quietly. With war hoops, seven or eight Indians leaped from the corn and ran toward the cabin. Seconds passed. Suddenly with a loud howl the Indian, who had been crouching alongside the building, jumped up and charged the doorway. Standing there tomahawk raised he peered into the darkened interior. He searched frantically for an immediate target. Hesitation was his downfall. Daniel, who was under the table by the door, brought the hatchet down on the moccasin almost severing the Indian’s toes. His war cry turned to a scream of shock and intense pain. His raised tomahawk was ready, his eyes looked for a target. His indecision of where his attacker was standing stranded his assault. At the same instant when the hatchet fell, Mary, just beyond the table, thrust the eight-foot spear under his brown arm into his side. The iron tipped weapon traveled through the attacker and embedded itself into the door frame. Simultaneously, Abby, on the other side of the open door, thrust her spear into the warrior’s other side. She watched it exit out and continued to push. The point jammed into the wood of the door frame on the other side. The Indian’s body effectively blocked the doorway. When this happened, the other attacking Indians slowed their charge just enough for Tamsen to find a suitable target. She aimed as low as she could over the dying Indian’s slumping shoulder and fired. The ball went slightly wide and hit an attacker in the right side spinning him. She lowered the musket, handed it to Liz and reached for the other loaded weapon. With the same smooth motion, she pulled the hammer back and made ready to aim. The pack of painted braves were converging on the door just twenty or so paces away. She knew it would be a fight to the end. She waited for a clear shot. She could hear Liz ram another ball down the barrel of the other weapon. Each
