It was uncharacteristically warm in the Appalachians lately and Micheal was sweating heavily in his coat. In the higher elevations he could see snow, taunting him from horseback. He bowed his head away from them and looked back at the party he was leading. The family had paid good French gold to be taken across the mountains and into the unclaimed territory beyond the mountains and Micheal was the one who'd draw a short straw and been sent on this mission. He didn't mind though, he wasn't much one for the bloody work the others participated in. So really it wasn't such a short straw since it was better then being sent to Philadelphia or Boston or New York and watching over Templars.
Or at least it was when the weather was nice. But he'd rather be stuck along the shore line chasing phantoms than here in the hot valleys of the Appalachians guiding a family along over-glorified deer trails. He knew along the coast there were breezes and the air wasn't nearly as suffocating as it was out here under the thick trees and stagnant air caught in the cups of valleys.
He blew air out of his mouth loudly, flapping his lips annoyedly. At least he was almost done. Just a day's more of travel and they'd be out beyond the reach of the British crown.
"Hold a moment Mr. Weston," the father, Zachary, called and Micheal halted his horse and turned in the saddle. Oh bother what was it now? He really hoped it wasn't that wife of his acting like a damsel again. Micheal had really very little patience for damsels when he was more afraid of the sisters of his Order than any brother, for they were the most fiercesome, especially when they were bleeding.
"What is it now?" he asked with a bit of a sigh. This family was almost more trouble than their gold was worth. But the Mentor had ordered it so he would see it to completion. His sharp brown eyes scanned the family, all of them walking and with a single tiny wagon pulled by a pony, a man, his wife and four children; three sons and an adventurous daughter who didn't know the first things about being a 'lady'. Unlike that pompous wife of his who thought she was the damn Queen of Spain. Of the bunch he liked the daughter the most, she was the most interesting and usually trotted along next to Clipper who plodded stoically through any sort of brush. Speaking of where was that girl?
"We've lost Sarah," Zachary said.
"I highly doubt that," Micheal muttered to himself and even Clipper seemed unimpressed because he gave an unamused snort and shook his mane. "Again?" he asked in a louder voice.
"You act as if you expected it," spat Melissa, she didn't like Micheal, the feelings were obviously mutual. She probably disliked the attention her daughter gave to a 'wildlife guide' and 'tracker'.
"She's a smart girl, I doubt she got to far," Micheal said simply and swung off from Clipper's broad back. "You stay here, I'll go find her," and he draped Clipper's reigns over a low hanging branch, he was to well trained to wander off, unlike these folks who would if he didn't tell them otherwise and get lost in a matter of minutes.
Micheal walked past them back down the way they'd come looking for sign of disturbance a bit off the trail. He'd only walked about ten minutes before he found an awkwardly broken twig. He huffed a soft sigh and rolled his eyes upward before leaving the barely-more-than-a-deer-trail and plunged into the bush around it. It didn't take him long to locate the shoes Sarah had left behind or the piece of her dress that had torn off when she'd climbed a tree.
"I bet you think you're funny," he called up the tree where he could see her tattered yellow dress through the boughs.
"Extremely," a girlish voice called back down.
"Get down here before your mother scolds you after viciously murdering me for allowing you to climb a tree," he held onto his hat as he strained his neck upward trying to find her face. He heard her give a terribly theatric sigh. "At least be reckless when I am not liable for it as well Sarah, it isn't very nice."
A few seconds later he heard the branches and leaves rustling and looked away quickly when the girl started to climb down to not accidentally see up her skirt. He knew well enough he'd get a slap for that. Heaven forbid if Melissa ever find out, even if it was an accident; they'd never find his body. Shortly after the girl was in front of him fit as a fiddle with her already stained dress even more stained from her decent, knees no doubt knobby and her feet were filthy. "Here I am," she said cheerfully.
Micheal wasn't amused. "Put your shoes on, we need to get going," he told her.
She frowned, "Yes Mr. Bossy," she huffed and bent down to put them on. Sarah was only about fourteen years old with ashen brown hair that already looked like it was turning gray. He wouldn't be surprised if it was since her father was only about thirty and already was more gray than brown himself.
"Come along now," he gave her a gentle push in the right direction and got them back on the trail. "Please stop running off, it's doing nothing but wasting my time and your father's. He's very keen on getting a homestead set up before he losing his chance to plant any crops."
"Bah, how boring," Sarah said walking in front of him so he would be sure she wouldn't run off again. He swore he was just going to tie her to Clipper's saddle so she couldn't get to far anymore because after two weeks this was getting totally ridiculous. Shame he hadn't thought of this before now when there wasn't much time left before they reached Pittsburgh, a town small enough to be ignored by the Crown but just one of the many towns that made the British Royalty loath the Colonies. It for that reason that the entire coast was practically flooded with Red Coats and why these people were trying to get as far from them as they could. "Who wants to be a farmer's daughter? Everyone's a farmer's daughter?"
"I'm sure Washington's daughter is very happy to be a farmer's daughter," Micheal said idly. Sarah gave him the dirtiest look and he half regretted that. He should know better than to say that when his sisters back home wouldn't have let him get away with it either.
"Does he even have a daughter?" she snapped.
Micheal's mouth worked a moment then he sighed, "Yes, one in fact and she's a bit of a brat."
"Hmm, good thing I'm not a farmer's daughter then," she sniffed smartly. Micheal just rolled his eyes again.
"And what would you be instead?" Why was he doing this to himself?
"I don't know. Something adventurous."
"Like?"
"Like to do with one of those Sons of Liberty," she grinned at him. Micheal didn't reply in like since most of them were his enemy. As it was the Order tolerated them because they were for once working towards the same means, it didn't mean the two factions got along. "Don't tell me you're one of those loyalists."
"If I was I'd have turned you into the authorities and not out here," he reminded her.
"Oh right," she wrinkled her nose at him before turning away. It didn't take much longer for them to hear the noise from Sarah's family in the woods and Micheal cringed, normal people made so much noise!
"Found her," he proclaimed when they came into eyeshot.
"Sarah!" Melissa cried in delight and ran to scoop her daughter up into her arms before scolding her sharply in Scottish. Sarah just stood there and took it looking disillusioned about the whole thing. Micheal passed them silently.
"We ready to keep going?" he asked Zachary as he walked past, the man just nodded and Micheal went to Clipper's side who was nibbling at some moss he'd found on the tree. "Well I can't wait till this is done, how about you boy?" he asked softly to the horse who perked up at the sound of his voice and nickered. "I agree," and he stepped up into the stirrup before sitting himself firmly on Clipper's back. "Lets get going folks," he called back, "We can make Pittsburgh by tonight if we keep moving," and he was sure he heard at least one person sigh.
—
Micheal enjoyed the silence of the forest now that it wasn't cluttered with the noise of a wagon, pony and six people who didn't have a silent bone in their body. He'd left Pittsburgh a few days ago and was headed home at a much swifter pace then it had taken him to get there. The weather had finally broken and it finally felt like spring at this elevation, leaving him cool and comfortable in his white coat. At his pace he guessed he'd reach the Point by week's end which was good news for him since he missed the view and his bed. Yes definitely his bed. He missed his friends too and his mother. But in a week he'd be back home and everything would be as it was and Pittsburgh would be behind him; thank God.
It was on the second night that he realized he was being followed. He didn't know by who though so acted as if nothing was wrong. That was always the best to do actually when you were being tracked, just act as you would and eventually they'd slip up and practically fall onto your blade. At least most people did, Templars usually weren't that dumb. He doubted he was dealing with a Templar though, they didn't operate this far west, not yet at any rate.
The third night he was proved right.
He was gathering wood for the fire when he came upon a set off shoe prints in damp soil. He pretended to not see them and went on his way listening closely to the sounds around him. He could hear insects and birds as well as small lizards and mammals scurrying in the underbrush. Under that though he heard something larger moving. It could be a cougar, or a bear, in which case he'd be running as fast as he could in the other direction, but he knew it wasn't. It didn't sound like one of those animals, it sounded too human.
A sense tickled at the back of his throat and as he rose from picking up a piece he reached into a hidden sleeve within his coat and pulled out a throwing knife. A twig snapped and blindly he twisted and threw the knife. There was a scream and a thud of the knife hitting a tree. "Great heavens what is wrong with you?" a familiar voice cried.
Quickly he cursed to himself wishing God to just smite him where he stood as he saw his vision of home vanish before his eyes. Why why why did Sarah have to be here? He sent her a stern look from under his hat.
"You threw a knife at me!" she cried trying to pull it out of the tree were it was pinning part of her dress.
"You were following me," he growled dropping his firewood and stalking over to her. "Why aren't you with your family?" he demanded.
"I told you, I'm not a farmer's daughter," she said.
He groaned and yanked the knife from the bark with little trouble. "You should not be here. It is dangerous."
"Well that's why I've been following you. You seem pretty good about the whole 'danger' thing," she grinned.
"I'm taking you back to Pittsburgh first thing in the morning," he told her sternly and grabbed her wrist, "Your parents must be worried sick!"
"Yeah so?" she asked right back trying to pull her wrist back but having little success. "Let go."
"Yes and you will just wander off again and get yourself killed. I think not," and he dragged her through the woods to where he'd let Clipper rest, having taken off most of his tack save for bridle. One-handed he grabbed a good length of rope from his pack and fashioned a one handed shackle around Sarah's wrist before tying the other end to Clipper's bridle. Clipper looked at Sarah balefully as if he knew she was in trouble.
"What are you doing?" she shrieked as he did so and tried to work the knot. He didn't worry about her getting it undone, it was a knot that could only be undone by cutting it.
"Making sure you don't wander off," he scolded her and left the small campsite to finish gathering firewood before it got to dark. When he returned Sarah was sitting by the tree he'd wrapped Clipper's reigns around pouting and looking sullen. She glared at him when he approached. "You brought this upon yourself," he told her.
"I don't want to go to Pittsburgh," she complained.
"Yes and a young girl like you wandering around unknown forests is a much better idea."
"I wasn't worried, I was going to follow you back home where my friends are," she said sourly still pouting.
"And what if I wasn't going there?"
"I'd figure something out," she proclaimed as he pulled flint from his bag and gathered up some dry leaves for tinder. He had a fire started quickly building a pyramid around it before adding larger branches. Once he had the fire going he went to get more wood, coming and going several more times before finally satisfied he had enough to last the night.
"You aren't a very smart girl," he told her as the sun set and he pulled out his fresh rations from Pittsburgh.
"My father says I'm very clever," she proclaimed proudly.
"Clever and stupid," he drawled and tossed her a loaf of bread. She was so surprised she almost didn't catch it, "I bet you haven't eaten since we left Pittsburgh have you?" he asked as she looked down guiltily. "Didn't bring rations, probably no money, one change of clothes, no tools or equipment, you're not very well on your way to surviving out here in the woods Sarah," he smeared some jam on his bread but didn't offer her any.
"I know," she said softly, "I just didn't want to stay there," she still hadn't eaten any of her bread. "Please don't take me back," she looked up at him, pleading with her eyes. He wasn't moved in the slightest.
"No," he said.
"Why not?"
"Because you have no one to go back to back east that's why! Do you want to become a beggar or a whore?" he demanded. "Because that's all that awaits you in the east. You have no family, none close enough to take you in, you're young and have no skills. At best you could become a maid, but who wants a family-less maid? You're vastly overestimating yourself," he couldn't believe he was actually scolding her. But he was angry so he didn't care. He was going to be home in about four days and now he had to go all the way back to Pittsburgh! He could pull his hair out. If the Creed didn't prevent it he'd just cut her throat and be done with it, a girl lost in the woods and a bear got to her. It happened all the time. He sighed into his bread, it wasn't a good idea to think such thoughts.
He looked up and saw she was near tears. Oh hell. He hated crying more than anything. It was like girls thought it was the magic spell that would make men do anything for them. Having grown up with a mother and surrounded by women he'd never seen cry to get what they wanted so he wasn't at all impressed. "Don't you even start, it won't get you anywhere," he told her sternly and dug into his bread with prejudice.
"You're so cruel," she sniffed.
"So I've been told," he said curtly around his mouth full of food. "Traits of the trade."
"And what would that be? Being a pompous bastard?" she suddenly snarled. Micheal actually started and stared at her. "If you take me back to Pittsburgh I'll just follow you again," she claimed.
"Then I'll just tie you up so you can't," he nodded at the knot around her wrist.
"Micheal please," she pleaded, "Don't take me back, I'll do anything."
"Be careful what you say, if I wasn't such an honorable man I'd take advantage of such a statement," he gave her a pointed look.
"I've never met an honorable man who doesn't do as a lady requests."
"You ain't no lady," he grumbled dusting crumbs off his hands and reaching back into his pack for some jerky.
"Beside the point!"
He sighed and gnawed at the dried meat, "I'm taking you back," he said. He was surprised when she threw the loaf at him and it hit him square in the head. It was three day old bread and actually startled him. "What in God's name was that for?" he demanded grateful the loaf landed in his lap and was still good to eat.
"You're a terrible person forcing people to do something against their will."
"Look girl-
"You're barely older than me, you got no right 'girling' me," she snapped.
"I'm not going to where I picked your family up. I'm going home and trust me, you don't want to go there," he said putting the bread away, if she was going to throw his food he gave her at him fine, he was just going to keep it for himself.
"And where do you call home Mr. Weston?" she asked in as bitter a voice a girl her age could muster which was a surprising amount. "Probably a place where they teach you to throw knives at people," she huffed.
"Yes actually, they do," he nodded extremely tired of this conversation. "And a lot of other stuff that would make your stomach crawl."
She narrowed her eyes at him, "I am not some dainty flower."
"Oh, I know that very well. But it makes me uncomfortable too, I can only imagine what it would do to you," he gave her a pointed look hoping the conversation was over. He was out of luck however.
"Try me."
"I'd rather not, I just ate," he blinked at her over the fire and realized that it was dark out.
She stared at him but said nothing more. He turned away from her finally and took off his gear, putting it to the side but within easy reach should he needed. It included his sleeve of throwing knives, a dagger and several bombs he kept on his person in case he needed to make an escape.
"For a guide you have an awful lot of weapons. You don't even have a hunting knife," Sarah said after a while of watching him check the sharpness of his throwing knives and deciding the one that he'd used earlier needed a bit of sharpening. His reply was the grind of the steel on the sharpening stone. "And you don't like the Sons of Liberty but you aren't a loyalist," she added, "I doubt you're really a guide," he still didn't answer her. Let her talk all she wanted he was done talking and wanted morning to come so they could be on their way back to Pittsburgh. "Is Micheal Weston even your real name?" she asked after he'd finished his sharpening and tucked the small knife away.
"No actually, it isn't," he said looking at her finally.
"What is it then?" she asked.
"Why would I tell you?"
"I'm just a girl, remember?"
"Ah, a stupid man would think that," he said, "I've been taught to not take things at face value. Sure you're a girl, but I know plenty of girls and they all would beat me up if I tried to tell them they were 'just' girls."
"Your sisters? You mentioned them before," she said.
"Yes, my sisters," he bobbed his head.
"How many do you have?"
"…Several," was all he said.
"How many is several?"
"Stop nosing in my business kid," he growled.
"I'm not a kid. I'm fourteen years old and old enough to take care of myself just fine."
"Which is why you're here around my fire and not your own," he said and she flushed. "More reason I'm taking you back."
She bit her lip but said nothing looking away and Micheal ignored her picking himself up off the ground to tie Clipper more firmly to the tree. He knew the bay would never just walk off on his own but he didn't trust Sarah not to try and make the horse leave with her. He also gave him a handful of oats which the bay seemed to greatly appreciate.
"If you take me back to Pittsburgh I'll kill myself," Sarah said out of no where.
He turned quickly, "What?"
"You heard me," she said staring at him. He looked down at her a bit aghast that she would even say that. "I mean it," she added and the scary part was that she did indeed look like she meant it.
Micheal sighed and ran a hand down his cheek. What in God's name was he going to do? Taking her back to her family was the most rationally sane choice but that now seemed like a very bad idea if she was going to hurt herself if he did. He definitely couldn't take her back to where she'd come from. She had nothing for her there except a life of poverty. He muttered a curse when he realized what the best option really was. He'd have to take her with him.
"Fine," he finally said. "I won't take you back to Pittsburgh."
"Really?" she asked excitedly.
"I can't let an innocent get hurt, even if they're going to go and do it themselves. So you're coming with me." She grinned at him and he sighed, this was going to be an interesting next few days.
—
They could see the compound now, sitting precariously on the cliff side overlooking a valley that was thick with forest and had a large blue eye of a lake at it's bottom. He could already hear the screams of eagles and turned his head up to watch one of the many wild eagles fly through the sky above them.
"That's it?" Sarah asked from the saddle in front of him.
"Yep," he nodded his eyes returning to the proud stone walls that surrounded the compound.
"Why would you live so far up in the mountains?"
"Why does anyone live in the mountains? To be away from people," he said.
"It seems lonely."
"Heh, hardly," he chuckled, "There are several hundred people living in there," he nodded at the fort's direction.
"You're lying," she claimed, "It isn't nearly big enough. It looks smaller than Pittsburgh!"
"Well they don't all live there at the same time. Everyone is always coming and going," and as if to prove a point they heard the sound of hooves coming towards them. A few heart beats later a man on a horse came down the path. Micheal saluted to the man as they passed noticing his higher rank and the other simply nodded but mostly ignored him. Unlike Micheal he wore a hood and didn't wear a coat like him, rather he wore the proper uniform of someone with a hit, unlike Micheal who wasn't.
"Who was that?" Sarah asked once the man was passed.
"I don't know," he shrugged.
"You saluted him."
"He's my superior."
"Are you militia?"
He chuckled, "You could say," he said.
"Do the Sons of Liberty know you're here?"
"I would hope not or that would be very problematic," and he raised his hand to more of her questions as he had done several times during their journey.
She frowned but relented, but only for a moment, "So what's this place called again?"
"It doesn't really have one. The Shawnee call this area Eagle Point for all the eagles, so we call it that as well. Or even more simply The Point."
Sarah giggled, "That sounds silly. We're going to the Point."
"Think whatever you want, you'll be staying here for a while, pray the Master finds something useful for you to do and not maid's work," and he gave her a look to stop her from asking yet more questions. He'd told her that all her questions would be answered once they got there, or he hoped at least, he also hoped he didn't get saddled with her. Of course her precise future was yet to be determined.
