Northwest Territory

It was almost a full day after they left Red Cap’s village before Black Fox uttered a sound any more complicated than a grunt or a sigh. It seemed to Nat as if the Indian were moping around without any reason, but as long as he led him back to Kentucky, he decided that he didn’t care very much about his guide’s mood.

The trail widened out suddenly, allowing their two horses to walk side by side. As he came near Black Fox, Nat glanced over and saw that he was staring straight ahead, his eyes seeming to be focused on nothing in particular. He had half a mind to clap his hands near the other man’s ears to bring him back from wherever he had wandered off to in his own mind, but decided against it. He too found some solace in times of silent contemplation.

Before long the ever-widening trail left the comforting canopy of trees that had lined most of their journey that morning and spilled out into a broad meadow. Nat took in all the sights and sounds and smells. Summer was in full bloom here and despite the feeling that his investigation had been at least a partial failure, his spirits were lifted. A flock of birds broke the music of the clearing, however, when they flew off in haste, perhaps frightened away from their roosts by some larger animal that had come barreling through, thought Nat.

Before the sounds of frantic flapping had left Nat’s ears Black Fox had kicked his horse into a full gallop. “Run!” he shouted.

Over the hoofbeats of his companion’s horse, Nat could faintly detect a low rumbling sound coming from behind them where they had just left the woods. Not waiting for an explanation from his guide, he also urged his horse forward as fast as he could go. Knowing that to do so might slow his escape, Nat looked over his shoulder for an instant and caught a glimpse of a handful of Indians—Shawnee, he could only assume—riding after them at full speed. The crack of a musket rang out, though no ball went whizzing by his head or lodged itself in his horse. Suddenly he saw Black Fox rein in his horse and come almost to an immediate stop. Looking past Black Fox to the other side of the meadow, Nat could see why: another group of Indians was approaching from the other direction. They were surrounded.

One of the men from the group that had caught them from behind approached Black Fox while the others kept their weapons leveled at their quarry. The two men exchanged words in their native tongue while Nat was forced to watch in anxiety. Their captor gestured fiercely toward Nat and Black Fox began to translate their conversation.

“He says that I need to tell you everything he just said to me, just like he told it,” Nat said as he dismounted from his horse. “But first we must give up our weapons.”

Nat followed the instruction and almost before his pistol dropped to the ground one of the Shawnee had grasped his hands and bound them behind his back with rope. A rough groping satisfied his captor that Nat did not have any other weapons.

Black Fox continued translating: “He said that his name is—I do not know the best word for this in your language, but it would mean ‘will not stop for anything’—that word added to ‘Warrior.’ He is the son of Chief Red Cap and has been sent to capture us and take us back to Red Cap’s village. He said that his father commanded him not to do us any harm as long as we do not try to escape.”

Nat looked over at “Stubborn” Warrior—he couldn’t think of a better word than that under the circumstances to fill in Black Fox’s blank, although a few words that were a lot more colorful came to mind—who was watching both of them with a keen eye as Black Fox translated. Nat had seen the look before: Stubborn Warrior would have gutted Nat on the spot and watched him bleed to death. The only thing stopping him seemed to be fear of disobeying his father’s command. For that reason alone, Red Cap became more fearsome in Nat’s estimation.

“They will let us ride our own horses back, but our hands must stay tied up,” Black Fox concluded.

“All right. Let me just give you something for me to translate back to this Stubborn Warrior fella,” Nat said with a sneer. “You can tell him that—”

“No,” Black Fox interrupted. “I will not do this. He holds our lives in his hand.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Nat cursed under his breath, resigned to his fate. He thought that he would at least like to know what his fate was at this point. They were alive for now, but there was no telling what might become of them when they were back in Red Cap’s village. If only his guide hadn’t been in a reverie since they had left, they wouldn’t have been caught; Nat was sure of it.

They rode through the night—a long, sleepless night, during which Nat nearly fell out of the saddle more times than he could count—and arrived at their destination as dawn peaked over the tops of the trees that surrounded the village. They were unbound and thrust into Red Cap’s wigwam where the chief had apparently been waiting for them.

“Sit down, please,” he said, in a tone that struck Nat as being far too hospitable. “I told my son to untie you as soon as you entered camp; there is no need for such things now that you are here, I hope. We caught you once and we can catch you again. I do not think you want to do that. We do not want to.”

“I thank you for that, Chief,” Nat began. “Although if you could tell us why we’re here at all, that would be good.” He tried his best to keep the anger out of his voice.

“You are here, Nathaniel Aldridge, because of your companion. Black Fox has saved your life.”

Nat and Black Fox exchanged nearly-identical bewildered looks with each other. Red Cap threw back his head and laughed.

“You thought that I did not recognize you, Black Fox? You have your father’s nose and chin and your mother’s eyes. It is for their sake that I spared both of your lives.”

Nat could tell that Black Fox was fuming in rage, but he remained still and silent. “What did we ever do that you would want to kill us?” Nat blurted out.

“That is a question I cannot answer for you. Everyone has someone to give him commands, even a chief like me.”

Nat thought of about a hundred other questions—some that would have cast doubt on his gratitude for the relative hospitality he had been shown up to this point—that he wanted to ask Red Cap, but was prevented from doing so when the door flap to Red Cap’s dwelling flung open and “Stubborn” Warrior poked his head in. Nat did not understand what was said, but as he squinted into the early morning light he clearly recognized two white men from the last time they were in camp. They were two of the men who had been with Benjamin Doane. Nat cursed himself now, rather than his captors; he hardly believed that he could have been so blind.

Red Cap rose and gestured toward where Nat and Black Fox were sitting before he left and “Stubborn” Warrior entered. The young man barked at Black Fox and gestured for them both to stand. As they stepped outside, Nat noticed that Red Cap and the two white men were gone. The two captives were ushered into another wigwam, near the storage building they had visited not long ago, and tied to one of the support poles.

When Nat was sure that they were alone, he whispered to Black Fox. “We have to escape.”

“You heard Red Cap say that he would allow us to live.”

“It doesn’t really matter what he says. He works with Benjamin Doane—works for him is more like it.”

“Should I know that name?”

“I suppose you might not, but he caused a lot of trouble back east a few years ago. He’s the man who was meeting with Red Cap the last time we were here. At the time I wasn’t sure whether he knew who I was, but I don’t have any doubt now. I’ll wager he’s also the one who told Red Cap to kill us and those two men I saw just now have come back to make sure that Red Cap finishes the job.”

A shuffling outside the door cut off their conversation. Red Cap stepped inside. Ignoring Nat, he addressed Black Fox directly.

“I must say what I began to tell you before. I recognized you the moment I saw you in my camp and I also saw the hate in your eyes. You want revenge for the death of your father; it is only natural. We were at war, yes, but I am a man of honor. A worthy enemy such as Crooked Tree deserved to have his body returned to the earth with dignity. If I had been there when your village was attacked I would have seen that it was done according to the customs of our people.

Red Cap paused, seeming to wait for some response from Black Fox, but none came. Nat’s guide sat still and silent.

“I have kept you and your friend alive to show that what I am telling you now is the truth. We will take you with us when we move the camp tomorrow; you will be far away from the men who would have killed you. With time, I think you will come to accept what I have told you as true.”

Red Cap turned and left, leaving the two men alone together in the dimly-lit structure once more.

“I guess you are about the closest thing I have to a friend out here.”

Nat chuckled to himself a little at the thought of his having befriended this Indian. He had never seen an Indian until a few weeks ago and he hardly remembered having anything resembling a friend since his boyhood. Mr. Tobin’s late-night conversations had been, perhaps, the closest substitute for friendship he had in recent years, but that relationship hardly deserved the name “friend.”

Black Fox also seemed slightly amused at the quip and shook his head slightly as he did so. “I suppose friends would help each other escape? If they’re moving camp tomorrow, then tonight would be the best time to try to get away.”

Nat nodded. Friends, they most certainly were not, but he had to escape. Not only that, but if Benjamin Doane was involved in this, then something bigger than some crates of stolen muskets was surely at stake.