Friend Seeker (Perry County, Pennsylvania Frontier Series) Read online

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  Along the river, an ancient path wound its level way. Perfected by a hundred generations, the trail had packed and widened until travelers could walk comfortably abreast without their weapons or burdens snagging on limbs or undergrowth. The path invariably followed the best way. It avoided wet areas that might dampen moccasins and circled hills so its course was almost as level as the water it paralleled. It was the finest path that Friend Seeker had ever seen and it made clear the large numbers of people that lived and traveled along the Potomac.

  From where he met the river, the Seeker turned east to find the Fox clan. Trails met at a crossing known as "the point of rocks" and fields were planted close by. One Flower had spoken of the place and claimed fish were abundant because of both rapids and shallow pools.

  Henceforth, increased caution would be necessary. Piscataway would use the Potomac path and One Flower had heard of some villages even further to the west. It could be a full day's march from where he met the river to the point of rocks and Friend Seeker debated the wisdom of wasting time scouting villages or lodges between. If a Delaware boy was held captive nearby, his uncles of the Fox clan would surely know of it.

  The Foxes might fear harboring a relative intending to stir conflict in their neighborhood and the Seeker had no intention of revealing his plans. To his uncles, he would be a young warrior traveling widely, seeking knowledge and experience from others of his tribe. Such adventures were known and since the destruction of their warrior societies and the scattering of clans, a quest of that nature would appear reasonable. It would account for his unannounced appearance and for his heavy traveling pack. A search for knowledge would also justify many questions about the Piscataway.

  Friend Seeker faded into the forest and found a comfortable resting spot. He would sleep until full darkness. The moon would be large and by its light he could move swiftly along the river trail. Rare was the night traveler but if such were about he would hear him and be gone as quietly as the deer.

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  The Foxes were few at the crossing. Four families lived permanently in a longhouse not unlike Oak Neck's. They were a fearful and timid gathering. Barely tolerated by their powerful neighbors, they had surrendered their freedom for a marginal security that might end at any moment. They feared to leave their longhouse for summer camping and they feared to hunt far from their place. Hunters feared to go alone, yet they also feared to hunt in strength that might appear to challenge the Piscataway. Their existence was demeaning, but they had endured it so long the pain was barely recognized.

  Where he had hoped to find strong and vigorous relatives who stood proudly and took interest in all that occurred, Friend Seeker found men who chose to avoid involvement and who spoke of the Piscataway only with darting glances and furtive peerings, as though even words could bring wrath upon them.

  From them, Friend Seeker gained little. There were Delaware captives as well as others from distant tribes among the Piscataway, but the Foxes knew not where. They doubted any were held to the west as the Piscataway were not strong there. More likely to the east where many villages lay.

  The warrior Hawk Foot was not known. Many Piscataway passed but it was not wise to see them. The Foxes grubbed their fields and fished the river with lowered eyes, their courage as small as their numbers.

  Instead of receiving news, Friend Seeker bore it. He told of living within the strong arm of the Iroquois longhouse and the Foxes moaned with envy. He suggested they take up their possessions and march north into the mountains where their presence would be welcome and their freedoms assured, but the men muttered and looked away as though such a move was beyond reason. Truly their spirits were weak, and the Seeker belatedly realized that much of what he told them they already knew but were too beaten to act.

  He began to reconsider his own safety among such people. Might not someone curry favor by telling the Piscataway of a young warrior seeking information? He studied the men, seeing their fear and their subservience. He grew uncomfortable and expected he should leave while he could.

  Without warning he rose from his place at the fire circle, shouldered his pack, and announced his intention to continue west into the wild mountains. His goodbyes were brief, leaving jaws hanging and eyes confused. Where his own people would have been insulted, these poor creatures were only surprised.

  Not until he had traveled well to the west did the Seeker feel safe to begin a long circle around the Foxes' lodges and regain the river well to the east. He hid his trail with utmost care, doubting that he would be followed, but taking no chances.

  He camped on a bluff overlooking both the river and his own back trail. Late in the day a drizzling rain began that destroyed even the slightest trace of his passage. Now he was free of the last requirement of his original plan. There were no others to seek out and no special directions in which to search.

  The Foxes' weak opinions supported Three Feathers' belief that the captives would be held where the Potomac was wide and where only Piscataway ruled, so down the river the Seeker would point. He would travel at night. In dusk he would scout and look and listen. When waking occurred, he would be close to see who appeared and what they did. Then he would slip away to rest until it again became time to venture forth.

  Squatting beneath his sleeping robe and sheltered as usual by the dense overhang of a hemlock, Friend Seeker chewed dried corn and small strips of heavily smoked fish. He experienced a euphoric sense of freedom, for now he was truly on his own.

  He wiped rain from his eyebrows and shifted position to avoid a steady drip through the tree branches. Somewhere out there, Late Star suffered the same wet drizzle. He was sure of it. He emptied his mind allowing sleep to encroach, for the night's search would be long.

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  Chapter 14

  Friend Seeker's first camp lay within a giant thicket. An ancient fire had swept a ridge clear and because of poor soil, only small growth had returned. In time, sharp-thorned briars entwined to force out most other plants, and only rabbits and those that preyed on them found the thicket accessible.

  With no higher land nearby, the thicket was right for Friend Seeker. He wormed his way inside and cleared a spot for his camp. He laboriously marked two other routes from the tangle by breaking certain branches to show the way. He doubted anyone would discover his lair, but only a fool would leave himself trapped. Stopping his paths just short of the thicket edge he left nothing showing from the outside.

  It was a safe place. The green briars would not burn and anyone attempting to enter would become an easily marked target. The thicket's only disadvantage was a lack of wood and water. For the time being the Seeker would have no fires, and by drinking long, he made do with only a small bowl filled at a spring. Because it was dry and breeze-swept, mosquitoes were few. If all camps were as good he would fare well.

  A number of Piscataway villages lay within reach of the thicket. Among them the Seeker would perfect his scouting and perhaps find Late Star. He expected to be some days among the briars.

  Piscataway men were distinguishable by a lock of hair combed and knotted at their left ear. Hawk Foot and his men had worn their hair in that manner. The Piscataway lived in houses of large size. Most were two hands of steps long and one hand of steps wide. Their roofs were higher than a man could reach, allowing coolness in summer and warm lofts for sleeping in winter.

  Villages appeared to be many, and travel between villages almost constant. The river too was busy with canoes, and fishermen were as common as hunters. The Piscataway did not move to summer lodges and that eased Friend Seeker's task. If lodges began moving about, he would surely waste time watching people he had already scouted.

  During a year of thinking about them, the Seeker had tired of laboring through the lengthy word 'Piscataway'. He often abbreviated the name to Cats and chose now to think of his enemy as the Cat people. He found the Cats to be much like other tribes. Their daily routines were similar, with wom
en first rising and performing most of the labors. Men hunted, fished, and worked on their weapons. They seemed always in conversation with one another, and when he could approach close enough to hear, those conversations were rewarding.

  Cat men talked often of happenings beyond their own villages and Friend Seeker became aware of a strong inter-tribal confederation that bound the Cats together, much as his own clans joined the Delaware. Piscataway were interested in distant happenings and their thoughts and gossip were food for the Seeker's ears.

  The children were severe challenges to Friend Seeker's scouting. Like all children, their direction was rarely predictable and they might charge any copse or climb any tree. If children were about, the Seeker stayed away.

  Boys of the Cat people were separated from their lodges and trained by older men as he had been. It was safest then to creep close and examine the faces and hear what he could.

  With more than passing interest, Friend Seeker watched the Piscataway youths in their schooling. Comparing it to his own training, the youths were having an easy time, but he supposed their interest was comparable to his own before the raid that killed Eagle and captured Late Star.

  Once, a party of warriors came to a village. They moved with the arrogant awareness he associated with the Iroquois and he was reminded of the strength of Hawk Foot's hand. He knew that he moved with the same casual power. It came with the development of muscle and sharpening of nerve, and would remain undisguisable throughout his lifetime. Ancient though he was, Three Feathers still possessed the controlled vigor bred into his body and spirit by warrior training.

  The Piscataway warriors raised the Seeker's hackles. Soon he might match his wits and skills with theirs, and they did not appear easy targets.

  Among these villages, Friend Seeker found only one older woman who appeared to be a captive. While not physically abused, she was treated with little respect and assigned unpleasant tasks. The Seeker expected Late Star's position might be similar and he studied the woman's movements, considering how Late Star could be rescued from like circumstances.

  The end of the briar thicket camp came suddenly amid self-reproach and embarrassment. For the Seeker, the incident proved sobering and a reminder that his expertise was far less than it should be.

  Returning from an unrewarding scout he followed a seldom-used trail well away from a village. He had passed this way before, and after hours of lying motionless, almost within reach of Piscataway men, his nerves were frayed and he wished to sleep.

  There could be no relaxing until he was safe in the thicket and his ears worked constantly, listening for danger, while his eyes searched the forest and trail ahead. A strange moccasin print mingled with the Piscataway markings and he crouched to examine it. The pattern was Delaware and his heart lifted in hope. Then it fell with a thud that sickened his mind. The mysterious print was his own.

  In all his planning and amid all his caution, he had neglected the most obvious betrayal of all. He must have left distinctive moccasin tracks throughout the area. He squatted above the revealing print in consternation. How many had seen, he could not know. Might interested hunters even now be back-trailing him or more likely waiting at some point he often crossed? It was possible! In giant bounds, he left the trail and took cover within the trees. He remained unmoving, listening and considering his dilemma before beginning a cautious return to the thorn thicket. Even there, he scouted thoroughly before entering hiding and then found he could not rest.

  His error seemed so obvious and so basic that he was stunned. While he had slipped about with confidence in his skills, he had left a record of his presence that even a youth could recognize. Half sickened by his oversight, he sat on his pack and wondered what other stupidities he had unwittingly performed.

  It was certain that he should leave this area. That none of the conversations to which he had listened mentioned a mysterious Delaware sneaking about was encouraging, but he could not simply hope that no one had noticed. He would wait for dark and then move far and swiftly. But first, there was work to be done.

  With a bone awl and leather string ready, he studied his moccasins to see how he could make their imprint look Piscataway. He decided a little work at the heel and a line of stitching near the large toe would suffice. Moccasins were made to fit either foot but Three Feathers had taught him to mark one moccasin with a bit of stain and always wear it on the same foot. In time the leather assumed the shape of his foot and was more comfortable.

  He left one pair of moccasins unaltered for his return to the Juniata. The others took almost until dark to sew into the Cat pattern.

  Even as he sewed, the Seeker worried. He would have liked to have shouldered his pack and been gone. Three Feathers counseled that a warrior should act on his fears and trust his hunches and suspicions. Such warnings were often the result of reasoning still unidentified, and obeying such impulses could give a warrior advantage or save him from being surprised. While it was usually right to think things through, it could also be wise to act swiftly when conditions became wrong.

  Despite his anxiety, the Seeker waited. Danger would lie in leaving the thicket, for none could enter undetected. Darkness would aid him for he knew the way and he would depart by one of the escape routes. If an enemy crouched by the thicket entrance, his wait would be long.

  At dusk, the Seeker moved cautiously through the thicket to a place barely within its cover. Until full dark he sat listening to sound and silence, feeling certain that no one waited in ambush.

  Finally it was time. He hoisted his heavy pack and slipped noiselessly from the thicket, across a stretch of open ground, and into thick trees just below the knoll. Within their familiar protection, he moved rapidly away until he had placed a ridge between himself and his old hiding place. Then he rested, waiting for the moon's rise to better see his way.

  He planned to travel a great distance to the east before again making camp. If a stranger was suspected of lurking about, he intended to be far beyond detection.

  The longer he considered it, the more likely it seemed that no alarm would be raised. It was not improbable that Foxes or other wanderers were known and his prints could go unremarked. He hoped it was so, but the gross error jarred his confidence and he resolved to review and tighten all his actions at his new camp.

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  There were other problems that neither the Seeker nor Three Feathers had anticipated. One was a burgeoning sense of loneliness. The moon filled and waned and day followed day without Friend Seeker uttering a single word. Not since he had abruptly left the Foxes had his voice spoken. Though he overheard a hundred talks, he remained silent and unseen. Although questions rose in his mind and clogged his throat, no sound emerged. The Piscataway tongue grew familiar to his ear, yet he wondered if his lips could shape the words. He longed to hear the rich sounds of Delaware and thought he might enjoy it as much as he would the taste of a crisped turkey thigh.

  Food was an expected irritation. His hunting was necessarily cautious. His fresh fare was limited to small game animals and eggs stolen from nesting birds. He dared not linger to fish, and without lengthy fires, he could not smoke or preserve what he did not eat. Increasing summer heat quickly spoiled both meat and fish and he gained only a second or third meal from each kill.

  By his fourth camp Friend Seeker was desperately weary of the profitless scouting. He had known the effort would be long and boring, but the actuality was far worse than he had expected. The hours of listening became torture that ended only to be tried again. He longed to leap and run as powerfully as his mind ached for other uses and expression. In his camp, he exercised with extended violence, tensing and straining muscle against muscle until sweat poured and he trembled with fatigue. Exercising kept his body tuned and fatigued him enough to allow sleep, but each day his boredom multiplied.

  Increasingly often, he summoned the face of Late Star and envisioned his captivity, perhaps in the next village. The imaginings helped and he continually re
fined his scouting to eliminate the least rewarding. In so doing, he could more quickly scout a village with assurance that he had discovered the essentials.

  He came to know that woman-talk in morning meetings at spring or stream was the most meaty. Where men might mumble endlessly over an obscure reasoning, the squaws spoke first of happenings and rumors of happenings. Comings and goings were never neglected and their complaining of real or imagined abuses included most in the village and often far beyond.

  By the second morning at a village, Friend Seeker knew which woman to listen to. Invariably there was one whose specialty was gossip. Once located, she would occupy the same spot each day at the same time to cast forth her opinion on all things. By the end of the second day, Friend Seeker could safely move on.

  The further east he traveled, the larger the Cat villages became. Their numbers were fewer however, for a forest could support only a given number of people. If there were more families, game or fish lessened and some must move or all would suffer, so whether together or widely spread, the same number of hunters would be found and a similar number of families would live within a hunting ground.

  Friend Seeker liked the bigger villages. Even the largest required only two or three mornings of gossip and as many days watching. He accomplished more than he could dividing the same time up among smaller communities.

  The Cats appeared countless. He detected many villages beyond the Potomac and women spoke regularly of communities he had not heard mentioned. The size of the Piscataway nation was discouraging, but he could only grit his teeth and continue his plan.

  Methodically, he worked eastward, with the river ever widening until it was greater than the Susquehanna. Crossing it, canoes disappeared from view and Friend Seeker believed he must be approaching the sea of salt. Gulls became as numerous as pigeons, but although he tested it often, the river remained sweet to his taste. Still, the Potomac was powerful and its massive flow might hold back the salty water.