Crow Hollow by Wallace Michael

Author:Wallace, Michael [Wallace, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2015-06-01T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

James led the others cautiously into Winton. Women were out sweeping snow from in front of their houses, while men chopped wood or tended to stock. The sound of a hammer rang through the air. He saw nothing to raise his suspicions, but he stayed wary all the same.

“Do you see that trail?” Prudence said when they’d passed the first few houses.

She pointed to what looked like a sheep path, nothing but a slight indentation in the snow. It traversed a field, bisected a stone wall, and disappeared into the woods beyond.

“That leads you to Sachusett,” she said. “The old Nipmuk village. It’s no more than a mile away. The two villages lived side by side, peacefully—a full twenty years with no trouble.”

“A shame,” James said.

“They always said in Springfield that if trouble came, the Winton militia wouldn’t fight,” Cooper said. “They were too cozy with the Indians.”

“Why would we?” she said. “Captain Knapp came through, trying to rile us up. We’d go fight against the Narragansett, yes. Or even against the Nipmuk besieging Springfield. But we had no quarrel with our neighbors. The sachem of Sachusett had pledged peace and eternal brotherhood.”

“Eternal up until the bloody attack, that is,” Cooper said. He sounded more bitter than angry.

Prudence looked away with a sorrowful expression.

“I assume the Indian village is destroyed now,” James said.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “Must have been. But the Indians carried me away before it happened.”

“Aye, it’s gone,” Cooper said. His voice was hollow. “I was there. After the Battle of Winton, we sent a revenge party to Sachusett. It was ugly business.”

“War is never pretty,” James said.

“You know that Indian village we passed through earlier?” Cooper asked. “That’s what Sachusett looked like when we were finished.”

James turned in the saddle to study the Indian road as they passed. Such a modest trail, it was hard to believe that it had led to so much violence in both directions.

“Anyway,” Cooper continued after a moment, “if you continue that way, ford the creek and follow the Connecticut River, you’ll be in Indian territory by nightfall.”

“So the Nipmuk aren’t exterminated,” James said. “They have more villages?”

“Oh, they’re gone, so far as we know,” Cooper said. “But there won’t be any English settlement north of the creek any time soon. Because there’s always another tribe, isn’t there? No matter how far you go, you’ll always find another enemy. And to the north you also find the French trappers and missionaries.”

“No doubt whispering lies about us,” James said.

Cooper nodded. “Always.”

“There’s something else on the end of that trail,” Prudence said. “Crow Hollow.”

James was of half a mind to take a detour through the site of Knapp’s massacre of the unarmed Indians, but they were coming into Winton proper. Now that they were closer he could see signs of past violence. Empty, rubble-filled lots left gaping holes between the standing houses, many of which had been rebuilt. Of the two meetinghouses sitting across from each other on the commons, the first, larger building was missing its roof and the rear wall.

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