Liberty 1784: The Second War for Independence by Robert Conroy Page A

they were visible from a ways off when the weather was clear, but it couldn’t be helped. Fortunately, this day an almost providential mist covered the river and helped hide them.
    The six canoes were led by a guide named Micah and two of his friends. They were scrawny and their clothes were ragged and filthy. However, their weapons were clean and in good condition, a necessity in the wilderness. Micah and friends had gathered what they referred to as “pilgrims” and, in return for payment, promised them safe passage westward to where they could trek north to American-controlled land.
    Neither Faith nor Sarah quite trusted Micah and his companions. He seemed skittish and often declined to look them in the eye. Sarah and Faith still wore men’s clothes as did several of the other women traveling with them. The wilderness was not the place for traditional proprieties.
    “I don’t trust him,” said Faith, echoing their concerns. They knew nothing about Micah except for the fact that he was willing to guide them for money.
    “I don’t either,” said Sarah. “But I don’t think we had much of a choice. It is either go west with him or someone like him as a guide, or stay back and someday be captured.”
    “He keeps staring at my breasts,” Faith added.
    Aunt Rebecca snorted. “Perhaps if you kept your shirt fastened, and if your pants weren’t so tight, he wouldn’t be looking so intently.”
    “Why have charms if you can’t use them?” Faith sniffed, causing Sarah to conclude that her little cousin had begun to recover from her ordeal with Braxton’s deputies, and that she wasn’t as innocent or naive as Sarah thought she was. Of course, how innocent could anyone be after suffering at the hands of Braxton and his men? Innocent perhaps, but naïve? Never.
    Micah signaled with his paddle and the canoes veered closer to the shore. “Why,” Sarah asked. No one knew and Micah didn’t respond. They generally only went to ground at night, but that was a long time away.
    “Maybe he sees something,” Faith said, and wondered just how and what he might see through the mist and the dense foliage.
    “I won’t be happy until he sees the place where we can get off these things,” Sarah groaned. “Kneeling like this is worse than the stocks.” Not really, she thought. Nothing would ever be worse than that day.
    Faith giggled. “Don’t you like paddling a canoe like a Red Indian?”
    Sarah declined to respond. At least they were going with the current and not fighting it. Tom signaled another change and they followed the leading canoes still closer to the land. Ahead of them and on the far side of the wide river, the mist parted for an instant and they saw several other canoes heading the opposite direction, and what looked like armed men in them. The mist returned and covered them.
    “Ours or theirs?” muttered Uncle Wilford.
    “I don’t wish to know,” Sarah said.
    What if the men in the other canoes had been a British patrol? Strange, Sarah thought. If it was a British patrol, might they soon be paddling over to intercept the boat? Perhaps their luck had held and they really hadn’t been noticed.
    A musket blast shattered the silence. It was followed by another and another and then by screams from the lead canoes. At least one had tipped over, spilling its human contents into the river. In horror, Sarah saw a man’s body floating face down and trailing blood from a gaping wound in his head.
    She turned to her left, where the riverbank was close. Men were standing on it and shooting at them. Micah had betrayed them. He had led them into this trap.
    More musket fire and more screams filled the air. Sarah picked up a fowling piece and shot at a man only a few yards away. He clutched his leg and fell screaming into the water. It occurred to her that there weren’t all that many attackers and that they weren’t British or Americans. She realized that they were nothing more than bandits. If they were taken