Excerpt: "Abraham's War"

Abraham listened to the soft sighing of the night breeze as it passed through the trees outside. Nestled in his arms, Irene snored softly, mumbling occasionally in her sleep. He could smell the faint fragrance of lavender in her hair, the vanilla on her skin. He stroked her hair gently and wondered again if he’d made a mistake bringing her here. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t up to it – she could do whatever needed doing, and never flag. He couldn’t have asked for a stronger woman, nor a better one.

But he had taken her away from her home near Richmond, far from her family and friends. He’d dragged her clear across the Virginia colony and out into the frontier. Abraham reckoned there wasn’t another white settler within 50 miles, mebbe more. No, he’d brought his beloved wife into Indian country where her very safety might be in jeopardy. Yet she hadn’t complained once. Hadn’t shown a hint of fear since he explained what he’d done to secure them a home in this valley. She’d shown naught but confidence in his decision, his judgment. And that burden at times lay heavy on him.

What if he was wrong? What if the Shawnee decided that the white couple were a danger to them, or told the French that they were here? There were times when Abraham thought it would just be better if they headed back to the east, and safety, rather than remain here.

He looked down and watched her face as she slept contentedly, marveling again at how beautiful she was in the dim light of the stars that came through the small window. What on Earth, he asked himself again, did she ever see in him? He asked himself that question over and over again. And he’d yet to find an answer. But love him she did, and showed him constantly.

He sighed and looked toward the window, at the stars, and thought about his deal with the Shawnee chieftain, and his Sachem. No, he thought, they would never break their word to him. They would watch him to see that he kept his word, but he had seen how they reacted to the pact they’d made. As Jonas had told him, they were people of honor. The only thing Abraham truly had to fear was some misunderstanding between them, and this he vowed to avoid, for Irene’s sake as much as his own. He had been raised to keep his word, and he would not dishonor his father’s name and memory by cheating the Shawnee in any way. It might cost him and Irene from time to time he knew, but in the fullness of time, he reckoned, they would be repaid with the respect of the Shawnee if nothing else. And, as his father had always told him, “Respect is as good as money to an honest man.”

He closed his eyes at last and wondered, as he drifted finally to sleep, when the Shawnee would come. Soon, he thought, very soon. He slept

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They came on a Sunday just before noon, a few days after he and Irene had finally moved into their home. The cabin was finished – more a house, Abraham thought, than a cabin – and all that remained were the finishing touches, inside and out, that Irene had wanted. The loft was walled to make two rooms – for those young’uns that they were both hoping for – and the two bedrooms below were finished as well. The one they were using already had a few touches of color on its walls, the product of Irene’s needlepoint. A small fireplace nestled in the corner and extending through the ceiling; Abraham would finish a second small fireplace up in the loft one of these days. The large main room held a large cooking fireplace, and an open area within which stood a wide table fashioned of pine planks, with long benches on either side. Abraham had fashioned a large cupboard at the rear for Irene’s cooking things, and few treasured pieces of china, brought from her Virginia home. The beginnings of the barn were waiting, and that would be that.

As Abraham and Irene watched the party of Shawnee riding slowly out of the trees across the creek, Abraham thought tensely, “Now we’ll see.”
Irene looked at her husband, seeing his jaw set in a tense line, and put her arm around his waist, smiling into his eyes. “Our very first guests,” she said quietly with a smile. He chuckled and his jaw eased somewhat.

“Shall we go greet them, Dear Heart?” he asked her, with an impish smile.

She hugged him a little closer and said, “Let’s!” then her hand found his and they stepped off the porch and strolled down toward the creek. Halfway there they stopped and waited for the Shawnee party to cross.

There were 25 of them, dressed in what seemed to be their finest, and Abraham wondered if they knew the significance of Sundays to Christians. For he and Irene had dressed in their finest as well after rising, to have the prayer and Bible reading they’d held for each other since they first arrived in the Valley. It was Irene’s insistence on it, their first Sabbath here, that had become a tradition for them.

“We may be in the Wilderness, Abraham Benning, but GOD is here, too. We’ll worship HIM as we’ve always done.” She’d insisted. And so they had. It was a small but important link to civilization for both of them. Abraham had found he’d come to look forward to Sunday mornings.

And now, here were the Shawnee, coming to visit on a Sunday. Abraham hoped it was a good omen.