Hunter's Moon Page 5

  He would pass through the gap and follow the stream to Patterson Creek and the small settlement of Frankfort, where Lightfoot and Roger McFarland’s cabin was.

  Roger McFarland. What had happened to him? Oh, how he hoped he was not among the many dead bodies he had seen since the horrible battle. He feared and knew there would be much more bloodshed and killing before this was finally over. War seemed to never end among the nations of Europe. It only paused for a little rest and soon resumed. How he hoped this cycle would not spread here. Tomorrow he would cross his own personal Rubicon, and there would be no turning back. The man known as John DeFayre could be no more. What would his new life be like? Soon he would find out if all went well. Either way, it could cost him his life. He said a prayer of thanks to God for getting him this far. It wasn’t long before he was fast asleep on the hard ground. The day’s march had been hard and long, and he would need all his strength and wits for tomorrow. There would be no turning back.

  Chapter 8

  It was a cold winter morning in January 1756. Even though the cabin overflowed with unbathed and smelly men, this was a far better option than living in the cave as John DeFayre had been. As things usually go, not all his plans worked out as he had hoped.

  Last July, John had chosen his freedom and deserted from Braddock’s army. Before the British Grenadiers would allow him to go and relieve his bowels in private, they had stripped him of his gun, powder horn, and his full haversack. His cover story got him away, but there had been pursuit. Fortunately, Lightfoot had left frontier clothing, a gun, powder horn, a tomahawk, and a full haversack just over the ridge and out of view.

  He ran for his life. Deserters could be shot on sight and often were. He could hear them clumsily following his trail through the Maryland woods. At the river, he shot a curious otter. He chopped it up with the tomahawk and poured the blood on his British uniform, which he threw in the river and also chopped up. When the Grenadier had found the clothing and the bloody tomahawk, they lost interest in following. John watched from behind a thick clump of bushes along the river and listened to their conversation. The general consensus was the Indians killed the deserter, and they should get back to the main group before the Indians could do the same to them. They left in a hurry and were soon gone. John waited until he was confident of his safety and retrieved the tomahawk. It would come in handy later.

  He went up the steep bank to the short gap in Knobley Mountain and looked back at the Potomac Valley. He knew that someday in the future the flat and fertile river bottomland would have prosperous farms. He located the stream he remembered with the many cold and clear springs feeding it. The water was fit for a king, and he drank long and deep. The stream ran for about 6 miles and emptied into Patterson Creek near Frankfort, where his friends Lightfoot and Roger McFarland had a cabin. John was supposed to meet them, but he changed his mind. There was too great a chance someone would recognize him and turn him over to the British for a reward.

  Instead of going to the little town, John chose to go to a small, hidden fissure cave in the one end of Patterson Creek Ridge and make it his temporary home. Lightfoot showed it to him on their hunting trips when John stayed in the area earlier. How Lightfoot found this concealed crack in the rocks, he did not know. A man could barely squeeze into the entrance, but it opened up into a small room that stayed a uniform temperature for the months John called it home. Sometimes he had four-legged visitors. One opossum had disappeared in a small hole and not come out. The passage appeared to open up beyond the hole, but it was too small for John’s body to explore. With a little work, he could enlarge and explore it, but that would have to be sometime later.

  John noticed this land seemed to be unclaimed, so he blazed boundary marks with his tomahawk, claimed a long section along the creek, then up the run known as Dennison and over the hills to another small stream where the Dan family had a corner. He knew he would run out of gunpowder in the late fall and have to go to town for supplies. Lightfoot had left a gold Guinea in the haversack. John did not find it hidden in the bottom until some time had passed. Someday he would thank Lightfoot. He regretted not going to him. He waited while his thick beard and hair grew out to change his looks, and the ruse worked. No one in town recognized him, and Lightfoot, he was told, was out long hunting with Roger. He was glad Roger survived, though they also said he was recovering from a wound.

  The Governor of Virginia commissioned a string of forts to be constructed along the entire western frontier of the state for protection from the French and Indian hordes. Colonel George Washington was given the monumental task of seeing this was done, but the state government provided little money.

  Men were needed as workers and soldiers. John signed on with great enthusiasm under his new identity as John Phares and was now part of the group Colonel Bacon directed. Many men and women changed their names to escape their past during these tumultuous times. The commander was having better luck with the fort building than turning the motley group into soldiers. John’s experience in the British Army helped him understand the soldier training, but he was careful not to reveal he knew too much. Suspicions could be aroused, and he did not want questions asked about his past.

  The men were busy building the fort’s palisades and a second cabin for housing and storage when Colonel Washington rode in, and he was not happy with what he saw. His face spoke volumes. He walked into the cabin that Lieutenant Bacon used as an office when the men were not sleeping in it. Washington had a temper that went with his red hair, and from the loud yelling, the men could tell Bacon was being raked over the coals. It was hard to understand precisely what was said, but the men knew they would be the next to feel the pain once Colonel Washington was done chewing on Bacon. The yelling stopped, and the two men could be heard talking, but no one outside was sure what they were saying. The discordant sounds from the two continued for about ten more minutes, then abruptly stopped.

  Bacon came swiftly out of the cabin with the Colonel following closely. The Lieutenant ordered the men to fall-in, which they did in a crooked line with haste. Washington was not pleased and began yelling at the men. It was made straight as they jumped at his commands. The Colonel walked down the line slowly. He stopped at each man, asked his name, and looked him over like one vets a horse. John heard several men cough nervously and twist slightly as the Colonel’s steely gaze met their eyes. Several looked like they would wet their breeches. Washington worked his way down the line and stopped in front of John Phares. He said nothing as he looked him over from head to toe. His eye contact seemed to go right through John. Did Washington remember him as John DeFayre, British soldier and deserter? He stared for what seemed like forever to John, then turned and worked his way down the line. John gave a slight sigh of relief. Perhaps his secret was safe.

  When he finished his inspection, he walked to Bacon, turned, and began to address the troops. “Men,” he said. “I am sure you noticed I was not pleased with what I saw when I arrived here. There were no guards posted. Your weapons are still all in the cabin. A hand-full of French and their bloody Indian allies could kill all you all and leave with your scalps on their belts. Never again will this oversight happen. There is to be constant patrolling of this fort by a minimum of two men at day and night every day until this war is over. Drunkenness and slothfulness will not be tolerated. I’ve authorized Lieutenant Bacon the use of the lash for such offenses, and also, deserters will be hung or shot.”

  A gasp went through the men. John felt the Colonel had been looking straight at him when he said the last phrase. He felt like running, but his legs seemed frozen in place.

  Washington went on. “As you know, this is one of a string of forts the Governor of Virginia has ordered built down the mountains and valleys paralleling the Shenandoah and South Branch of the Potomac and beyond the New River far south of here. Some of you will be called upon if needed to build these additional forts. All of you are expected to be prepared for battle. Lieutenant Bacon has assur
ed me you will be ready for this yesterday.” He looked at Bacon, who swallowed hard. “I have nothing more to say,” said the Colonel. “Return to your work except for the two men at the end of the line on my right who will be on guard duty. Lieutenant Bacon will assign guard duty after this. You are dismissed.”

  The men began to disperse and walk off when Washington’s booming voice rang out. “Mr. Phares, I need to speak with you privately.”

  John felt his heart leap in his chest. He feared the worst as he walked to the Colonel’s position. He could feel Washington’s steely eyes on him, but John could not make eye contact. He stood in front of the tall red-headed man in the tricorn hat and looked at his feet. “Mr. Phares, come with me.”

  John followed the Colonel closely behind. He felt like a condemned man heading to the gallows. Perhaps he was. Washington walked through the palisades where a gate was being built. They walked at least 150 feet to a thick clump of trees and went around to the backside. Maybe he will shoot me as an example to the others. Washington turned to him, but no pistol was in his hand, though John saw one at the Colonel’s side.

  “Mr. DeFayre, I last saw you in a red British uniform on Braddock’s ill-fated endeavor. I see you have taken a new name and identity, but I could never forget those eyes after our encounter after the battle near the Monongahela River. You seem to be adjusting well.” John said nothing. He had been caught and resigned himself to his fate. “Don’t look so glum, Mr. Phares. I’ve heard nothing but good reports about you.”

  John looked at the Colonel, “Aren’t you going to have me hung or shoot me yourself?”

  Washington smiled, “No. If I hung every man in my army who’d recently left the British Army under, shall we say ‘not the best of circumstances;’ we would have time for nothing but building gallows. Lieutenant Bacon speaks highly of you, and I need men with military experience. Your secret is safe with me as long as you do not desert, and if you do, you will hang.” The Colonel let the last statement sink in. He continued, “I have a special assignment, and I would like you to help me with that. Would you be interested in that, Mr. Phares?”

  “Yes, very much, Colonel Washington. Very much. You can count on me.”

  “I thought that would be your answer when I first spotted you here. I’ve placed my trust in you. Don’t let me down.”

  John told the Colonel he had not made a mistake with his trust. He was to travel to Fort Cumberland with the Colonel, and there he would be given his assignment. The two men talked as they went back to the fort about how it was progressing. John received some questioning looks from the other men when he went back to work.

  The rest of the day went quickly as the men worked with renewed vigor. Night fell early in the winter. The cook made some watery soup for the hungry men’s supper along with cornbread, which they ate quickly. Soon all were asleep except for two guards. And guns were ready and loaded if needed this night. Bacon made sure this was done.

  In the morning, Washington rode out on his horse, followed by John Phares, also on a horse, though he was not near as graceful as the Colonel. The only other time he had ridden in his life was when the gold coin payroll was buried near the Youghiogheny River in Pennsylvania. He would have to learn fast. Washington had an assignment for him, and John was curious what it was about. Speculating did little good. The Colonel was tight-lipped. He would have to wait until Washington was ready.

  Chapter 9

  For the next two years, John Phares served as George Washington’s aide and confident. Young Washington was an ambitious man who desired to make a name for himself. What man at that age didn’t? There was an ongoing conflict at Fort Cumberland between Washington and Captain John Dagsworth. Dagsworth was from Maryland and held the title of Captain in the British Army; thus, he believed he outranked the colonial militia colonel. Washington had more political connections and came out on top. John remained loyal to Washington but stayed out of the quarrel. Dagsworth, to his credit, took his defeat honorably and continued to serve admirably, though Washington seemed to continue to hold ill feelings toward the man.

  John Phares carried letters and instructions from Colonel Washington to the frontier forts all along the ridges and valleys the length of Virginia and once traveled to North Carolina with a message he delivered to the commander at Fort Dobbs who eagerly received it. He also went to nearby Maryland and Pennsylvania forts. Numerous times he ran from the French and Indians who continued to wreak havoc on the thinly guarded frontier. The undermanned and undersupplied forts and blockhouses were the only things keeping the enemy from completely overrunning the Colonial areas. Few settlers had managed to hold out. Most fled to Winchester, Frederick, or Philadelphia or been killed. Many times he passed ruined farms and manors in the fertile valleys. One, in particular, stood out in his mind. A cabin in the Patterson Creek Valley belonged to a family he knew, and it was still on fire when he arrived. The father, mother, and 3 of their children were all dead and scalped. The two smallest children were missing, probably carried off by the Indians. He could tell there had been a terrible fight. Two dead Indians lay in the woods nearby. John wanted to bury the dead but did not. The Indians were still near. Why they had not carried off their dead as usual, he did not know. Never had he been able to get the images of his dead neighbor from his mind, even a year later. His decision to not bury them would trouble him for the rest of his life.

  Just recently, he had returned from the South Fork area near the fertile headwaters of a branch of the Potomac River. Fort Seybert had been overrun by the Delaware Indian Chief Killbuck and his braves. Many died on that April day or been captured and carried off. This was far from the first time John had seen Killbuck’s handiworks. He hoped it would be the last.

  Today he carried a letter from Colonel Bouquet, busy in Raytown, Pennsylvania, building a depot and fort called Fort Bedford to house British General John Forbes’s growing army. Colonel Washington sent John with a letter to Bouquet outlining his plans for an invasion of the French-occupied lands to the west and the conquest of their stronghold, Fort Duquesne, at the strategic forks of the Ohio River. Washington was anxious for a reply.

  The answer had not pleased Colonel Washington at all. He was furious. Why would General Forbes want to consider cutting an entirely new road through the Pennsylvania wilderness when they already had the upgraded road Braddock so painstakingly cut from Cumberland, Maryland, almost to the forks of the Ohio? It was sheer madness. Hadn’t he learned how difficult it was constructing a new road through the wilderness from Shippensburg to Raytown on the Juniata River? It would be far better time-wise and involve much less effort to use the existing road. John also knew the Virginian Washington did not want to have another route in a neighboring state to compete for trade in the Ohio valley and the way further west into the continent.

  Furthermore, Washington was ordered to improve the road from Cumberland north up the valley to Raytown. This he would do without question. The roadway could be used by Forbes’s forces to come south and then take the route Braddock built almost to the forks. The Colonel was still interested in a commission in the British Army, and he would follow his orders whether he liked them or not.

  Washington’s forces from Virginia and Maryland set to work widening the old Indian trail to Raytown. Both the Colonel and John Phares were surprised at how rapidly the combined forces completed the task. Washington met with General Forbes and Colonel Bouquet and pleaded his case for using the existing road while Bouquet favored a new and shorter road to the French stronghold. Bouquet’s scouts had informed him that while challenging, it was possible to secure a passage through the remaining hills and valley to their objective. The final decision was General Forbes, and he sided with Bouquet much to Washington’s displeasure. Construction began on the new route. Forbes also had some of Washington’s men continue to improve Braddock’s Road from Cumberland. This would cause the French to divide their already thin lines. They would have no way of knowing from which avenue the si
zeable British force would attack.

  There were other problems the British forces faced besides hills, ravines, streams, and deep marches that threatened to swallow men, horses, and wagons. Forbes was plagued by intestinal issues before, and they had returned to him. He was also worried about the possibility of attacks along the journey west by local Delaware and Shawnee. Pennsylvania authorities appointed Frederick Post, a Moravian missionary who spoke Delaware, to persuade the local tribes the army, growing more significant daily, was only interested in driving out the French and would not impose on them or their homeland.

  At considerable personal risk, Post was able to convince the chiefs of this. He went east over the mountains and returned with a peace belt and a copy of the treaty assuring the Indians of British sincerity. Forbes had learned from Braddock’s mistake of insulting and dismissing the native tribes. Braddock had only nine native scouts who did not leave. Forbes also wisely took Washington’s advice and accepted the services of 600 Cherokee and Catawba Indians, mortal enemies of the northern Indians. Washington wondered to himself if Forbes, being a Scot instead of a bullheaded Englishman like Braddock, made him more open to suggestions from others. General Braddock’s arrogance had led to his own death and hundreds of others.