Kings Pinnacle by Robert Gourley Page B

Speculation around town was that it
had belonged to an Iroquois who had met an untimely end. The pony
was swift and reminded Alex of Hack. Alex wondered how Hack was
doing back in Scotland. He also wondered how his bothers and father
were getting along. He still missed them badly, but his new
association with the Longhunter had helped fill the void and made
him feel not quite so alone in America.
    “Looks like some smoke just
o’er the tree line there,” said the Longhunter, pointing to the
southwest, when the two men rode out from under the trees into a
small clearing.
    “Anything over in that
direction?” asked Alex.
    “There’s an Irish settler
family just put up a cabin in that direction a few months back,”
replied the Longhunter. “I was by their cabin a couple of times and
traded with them a bit. They’re related to that Irish couple that
owns the dry goods store in Williamsport.”
    “Maybe we should take a
look,” stated Alex.

They kicked their horses to
a trot and veered off on some game trails to the southwest to see
about the smoke. After a few miles of easy riding, they spotted the
burned out cabin.
    “Looks like that same
raiding party that we ran into at the ferry may have moved into
this area or this might be the work of a different band. There’s a
whole bunch of Iroquois bands that live west of Fort Cumberland,”
said the Longhunter.
    “Let’s take a look and see
if anybody survived the raid and the fire,” said Alex as he grabbed
his reins and was just about to kick his pony forward.
    “Whoa, lad,” said the
Longhunter lifting up his rifle and pulling the sheath off of it.
“That raiding party might still be around. Let’s take it real
cautious-like.”
    Alex pulled up his rifle
also as the two men dismounted and slowly walked, leading their
horses, up to the cabin. The fire was mostly out and the cabin was
almost completely gutted, but still smoking. The smell of burned
flesh led the two men to the bodies of the man and a woman who were
about the same size. They were both burned beyond recognition
inside the cabin.
    “There’s no sign of the
Iroquois. I think they’ve gone,” said the Longhunter.
    “This is not what I was
hoping to find,” said Alex, looking at the dead bodies.
    “What bothers me is what we
didn’t find, lad.”
    “What do you
mean?”
    “This couple had a daughter
about your age,” said the Longhunter with a frown.
     
    * * * *
     

     
    * * * *
     
    Robert and Hugh
     
    “ Robber, where’re all the
soldiers?” asked Hugh.
    Robert shook his head as the
two brothers slowly rode past the castle in the town of Stranraer.
The medieval tower house, called the Castle of St. John, was
located in the center of the village. It had been a military
garrison during the Killing Times in the 1680s. The Killing Times
were a period in Scottish history when the English government
attempted to suppress the Presbyterian religion in Scotland by
stamping out sedition using field executions without a trial. But
these days the castle was no longer manned with a full garrison. It
now contained a few safe-keeping troops who provided only a token
military presence in the town. Since Stranraer was not a ferry port
for cattle or passengers, the troops were not on high alert and
were probably not looking for the two brothers.
    Robert and Hugh soon found
their way to an empty table at an inn near the waterfront docks.
One of the main sources of income for Stranraer was the fishing
fleet. Each day the fishing boats left early in the morning to fish
Loch Ryan. And they returned every evening to the docks where they
were tied up for the night. The innkeeper was a tall, fat man
wearing a short apron. He strolled up to their table with a dirty
towel in his hand, wiping a tankard with it.
    “ What can I do for ye
lads?” asked the innkeeper.
    “ We’re famous highwaymen,
and we be looking for all the soldiers so we can turn ourselves
in,” replied Hugh with a grin, having some fun