for their efforts," Van Grut continued. "I asked for cash money, to pay for my travels. It was a big tract, and the Virginians were in a great hurry to get their claims registered. Using only one surveyor could easily have taken over a year."
"Why the hurry?"
"I didn't ask. The job they were offering fit my plans perfectly." Van Grut thought for a moment. "Because of the constant disputes between Pennsylvania and Virginia over land claims. Because no one gets any more big tracts until the Virginia tract is settled. Because the victories over the French have whetted voracious appetites for western lands. Because of the treaty," he added after a moment.
"Did you ask what happened to the others?"
"Like I said, it is a huge tract. I assumed they were working elsewhere."
"Did they assign you only one section then?"
"I was to describe the last fifty miles of the trail, then write my report. I was not inclined to ask questions. It was a great boon, to have my expenses paid for my explorations of the west."
Duncan stared at the Dutchman, certain he knew more than he was letting on. "Were you attacked?"
The Dutchman's face darkened. He didn't reply.
"This pour soul was nailed to the tree like Burke, probably practiced on with a knife like Burke. The woman was no doubt bending over to help him when she was struck from behind. It appears she was then dragged to that log and killed, probably had her veins severed while she was unconscious."
"You don't know with certainty that they were murdered," Van Grut argued.
Duncan went back on his knees beside Conawago, searching the ground again. It was the old Indian who found the final evidence, pointing at it with a grim expression. Duncan stared at it for a long, despairing moment before stepping toward the Dutchman.
"No I don't know," Duncan admitted, his voice tight. "Perhaps his mainspring just wound down with no one to wind him up." He dropped the object at Van Grut's feet. A human breastbone into which was embedded a bloodstained clockwork gear. "This is how you will die, Van Grut, unless you tell us all you know."
The color drained from the Dutchman's face.
"They sent you to replace this one who was killed, to work the section of trail north of here. It's only a matter of time before you become another clockwork man. Shall we place you in a box, then wind you up and charge a shilling for a glimpse?"
Van Grut pressed his hand against his chest, as if to protect his heart. He looked as if he would weep.
"Why are surveyors being killed at boundary trees?" Duncan demanded again.
"Burke told me to go to tree four, the next morning after we met. But I had just been paid, hadn't played a game of whist or touched a drop of rum in weeks."
Duncan stepped closer. Finally he understood Van Grut's fear when he had visited the fourth marker tree. "You were sent by Burke to the tree where he died, the same morning he died? Except you got drunk instead?"
Van Grut nodded, closing his eyes.
"We could sit until nightfall," came Conawago's quiet voice, "and not list all those with complaints against boundary markers and surveyors. Elsewhere the British and French may fight each other because their kings hate each other. But here they fight over the rights to land. When the French leave, the war over land will continue, just fought in different ways. Half a dozen companies already compete for these territories, subject to few laws and fewer lawmen. The Virginians compete with the Pennsylvanians, and both oppose the Connecticut and New York companies. The Pennsylvania Susquehanna Company despises the Philadelphia Land Company. The smaller tribes subjugated by the Iroquois resent them for selling their lands, where they traditionally lived. The Susquehannocks, the Conoy, the Shawnee, the Nanticokes, the Delawares consider the transfer of these lands to be invalid. More than a few Iroquois resent the handful of chiefs who sign away possession."
Conawago shrugged. "There are many possible
"Why the hurry?"
"I didn't ask. The job they were offering fit my plans perfectly." Van Grut thought for a moment. "Because of the constant disputes between Pennsylvania and Virginia over land claims. Because no one gets any more big tracts until the Virginia tract is settled. Because the victories over the French have whetted voracious appetites for western lands. Because of the treaty," he added after a moment.
"Did you ask what happened to the others?"
"Like I said, it is a huge tract. I assumed they were working elsewhere."
"Did they assign you only one section then?"
"I was to describe the last fifty miles of the trail, then write my report. I was not inclined to ask questions. It was a great boon, to have my expenses paid for my explorations of the west."
Duncan stared at the Dutchman, certain he knew more than he was letting on. "Were you attacked?"
The Dutchman's face darkened. He didn't reply.
"This pour soul was nailed to the tree like Burke, probably practiced on with a knife like Burke. The woman was no doubt bending over to help him when she was struck from behind. It appears she was then dragged to that log and killed, probably had her veins severed while she was unconscious."
"You don't know with certainty that they were murdered," Van Grut argued.
Duncan went back on his knees beside Conawago, searching the ground again. It was the old Indian who found the final evidence, pointing at it with a grim expression. Duncan stared at it for a long, despairing moment before stepping toward the Dutchman.
"No I don't know," Duncan admitted, his voice tight. "Perhaps his mainspring just wound down with no one to wind him up." He dropped the object at Van Grut's feet. A human breastbone into which was embedded a bloodstained clockwork gear. "This is how you will die, Van Grut, unless you tell us all you know."
The color drained from the Dutchman's face.
"They sent you to replace this one who was killed, to work the section of trail north of here. It's only a matter of time before you become another clockwork man. Shall we place you in a box, then wind you up and charge a shilling for a glimpse?"
Van Grut pressed his hand against his chest, as if to protect his heart. He looked as if he would weep.
"Why are surveyors being killed at boundary trees?" Duncan demanded again.
"Burke told me to go to tree four, the next morning after we met. But I had just been paid, hadn't played a game of whist or touched a drop of rum in weeks."
Duncan stepped closer. Finally he understood Van Grut's fear when he had visited the fourth marker tree. "You were sent by Burke to the tree where he died, the same morning he died? Except you got drunk instead?"
Van Grut nodded, closing his eyes.
"We could sit until nightfall," came Conawago's quiet voice, "and not list all those with complaints against boundary markers and surveyors. Elsewhere the British and French may fight each other because their kings hate each other. But here they fight over the rights to land. When the French leave, the war over land will continue, just fought in different ways. Half a dozen companies already compete for these territories, subject to few laws and fewer lawmen. The Virginians compete with the Pennsylvanians, and both oppose the Connecticut and New York companies. The Pennsylvania Susquehanna Company despises the Philadelphia Land Company. The smaller tribes subjugated by the Iroquois resent them for selling their lands, where they traditionally lived. The Susquehannocks, the Conoy, the Shawnee, the Nanticokes, the Delawares consider the transfer of these lands to be invalid. More than a few Iroquois resent the handful of chiefs who sign away possession."
Conawago shrugged. "There are many possible
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