Cloud Rising in the West

By Timothy Kestrel

This historical, action-adventure drama, set in the 1750s in Colonial America during the time of the French and Indian War (aka the Seven Years’ War), is the culmination of the epic trilogy The Rule of Ranging by former US Army Ranger Timothy M. Kestrel.
In the Cloud Rising in the West, our brave hero Finn discovers that the meaning of life is found even in the grimmest of circumstances—including suffering, sacrifice, and death—as he battles under the direction of Major Roger Roberts alongside his loyal best friends: a freed slave Gus, an eccentric wanderer and mentor figure Fronto, and a fierce Wappinger warrior Daniel.
Nicknamed “Most True” by the Iroquois, the handsome and tough Finn fights not because he wants to, but because he genuinely believes it is his duty. He calls on his ability to hunt, which he learned at an early age tracking the movements of wildlife through the forests of his Finland home, to assist him on the battlefield that is the grand natural scenery of upstate New York and Pennsylvania.
Finn’s grim determination to survive the war as a member of the legendary Rogers’ Rangers takes him on a journey through the untamed wilderness of North America as he expertly fights the French in a major push toward Montreal. But it is the inner battle that proves to be Finn’s harshest struggle as he attempts to defeat the arrogant boy he once was to become the man—and potential loving husband and father—he hopes to be. But, in a heartbreaking twist, he has to choose between two women, Rosie and Catherina.
Through the historically accurate text that reads like a gritty Western looms the specter of the notorious Hessian mercenary Johan “Totenkopf” Kopf—the man who left Finn an orphan and who will finally drive him toward his valiant end.
Ultimately, the empathetic Finn learns the most important life lesson is to distinguish between what he can control and what he cannot. But will he develop the wisdom to tell the difference?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Timothy Kestrel
• Release date: Jul 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9780988666078

Timothy Kestrel

Hi, I am a Finnish American author, translator, and a former US Army Ranger. Besides writing historical novels, I have translated graphic novels and worked on entertainment projects in TV and film productions. I am still active in the Ranger community.

Book preview

The Rule of Ranging Series

BOOK THREE

CLOUD RISING IN THE WEST

Copyright ©2015 Timothy M. Kestrel

Published by Timothy Kestrel Arts & Media at Smashwords

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

ISBN-13: 978-0-9886660-7-8

ISBN-10: 0988666073

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter One - The Catskill Mountain House

Finn and Rosie contemplate their future

Catherina and Rosie meet at the infirmary

Fat Murray’s attempt to kill Finn

Finn and Catherina fight the villagers

Rangers help farmers by digging irrigation ditches

Old Finn tells about Aric Mossberg

The Abenaki powwow

The British launch a counteroffensice

Totenkopf’s schemes behind everyone’s back

Rogers learns the truth about Sargeant Beaubien

Ranger Force moves out on a mission

The incident at La Belle Famille

Rangers continue fighting further north

Action at the sawmill

Rangers lead a victorious attack

The hanging of Fat Murray

Rangers attack relentlessly

Catherina and Rosie arrive in the battlefield

Rangers establish lines of communication

Totenkopf attacks Catherina and Rosie

Chapter Two - Goodbuys Are Always Bitter

Infighting among the priests

Kidnapping of Jemima Howe

Rogers continue to dictate his Rules of Ranging

Rangers ascent the heights of Quebec

Battle of the Plains of Abraham

Fate of the two Generals

The British strong-arm the natives

The French rally for final battle

Old Finn tells about Josie Sauer

Provincials contemplate the future

Finn falls in love with Catherina

The underdogs grow tight as a team

Annus Mirabilis in Fort Edward

Chapter Three - The Fate of Jemima Howe And Her Daughters

Sheriff Jimmie Dick is fired for drunkenness

Rogers is ordered to attack Saint Francis

Catherina fights along with the Rangers

Rangers embark on a suicide mission to Saint Francis

The mission is compromised almost from the start

Rangers raid on St. Francis outside Montreal

Deadly chase through the wilderness

Lieutenant Stevens’s court martial

Disturbance in the provinces

Warrior Dore helps Jemima Howe

Finn and Catherina hide in a cave, and more

Discord among the Rangers

Christmas Party in Fort Edward

Chapter Four - The French Hold Council in Montreal

Old Finn talks about Caelen Henry

Pinkster party in Boston

Flashflood at the river crossing

The French high command in Paris

The British high command in London

The advance to the north - tide turns

Rangers lay waste to the countryside

Pitiless destruction

Attack on the mill

Montreal surrenders

Quarrel among Finn and Gus

Finn fights Totenkopf

Future is bleak and uncertain

Uneasy peace with former enemies

Washington hears fake news from Totenkopf

Chapter Five - The Green Mountain Boys

Jimmie Dick blackmails Catherina

Pontiac instigates rebellion

Catherina and the Rangers embark for Fort Detroit

Winning peace is difficult if not impossible

Finn and Catherina at Niagara Falls

Voyage across Lake Erie

Rogers’ powwow with Pontiac

Surrender of Fort Detroit

Occupation force is bored

Tensions rise to the point of eruption

The fate of an informer

Dugald Campbell’s last stand

Cry havoc and let loose a bloody rebellion

More discord plagues the provincials

Conflict at the British headquarters

Rogers is arrested for treason on trumped-up charges

Chapter Six - The Rangers Take Up Fighting Mode Once More

Gunfight with the smugglers

Masquerading as a war party to survive

Trapped between a rock and a hard place

Narrow escape in the mountains

Finn, Gus, Daniel, and Fronto make their last stand

Daniel, Gus, and Fronto fight back

Finn is captured to be tortured at the stake

Finn’s escape and fight with Langdale

Finn’s unexpected return to the Rangers

Wagon train is ambushed

Pontiac’s last meeting with the Rangers does not end well for him

Rangers free Rogers and Finn deals with Jimmie Dick

Finn returns to Fort Edward alone looking for Catherina

Catherina has disappeared into thin air

The final showdown with Totenkopf

Epilogue

Afterword

About Timothy M. Kestrel

Other books by the Author

Connect with the Author

The real man smiles in trouble, gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection.

—Thomas Paine (1737-1809)

Chapter One

CATSKILL MOUNTAIN HOUSE BASKED IN THE GLORIOUS HIGH NOON SUNLIGHT. The view from the veranda took Henry Raymond’s breath away as he gazed at the vast open expanse. The hotel, perched on a high cliff, looked as if it were surrounded by a boundless blue and green ocean and fluffy white clouds.

Raymond glanced at his pocket watch. He would meet his client again in fifteen minutes for lunch. In the meanwhile, he went downstairs to the lobby where he picked up the latest issue of his newspaper, the New York Daily Times, from the concierge named Seneth. He turned to look for a quiet corner in the lobby to peruse the latest news from the city. He did not just think about the news or the latest gossip from high society. In fact, in his mind he kept proofreading the articles to find even the minutest errors in details. It was, after all, his newspaper that had been established only recently. His reputation was at stake.

Around him, gentlemen and ladies in fashionable outfits arrived with their families. In order to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city, they had endured the five hour climb in a stagecoach up the steep mountain.

Two children running all over the place almost ran into Raymond. His sharp reporter’s eyes noticed right way that these kids were from a well-to-do family. The boy was dressed in a mustard colored skeleton suit made of heavy linen that displayed the symmetry of his figure. The girl wore printed cotton muslin and a pair of cotton lawn pantaloons. She was carrying many silk sashes of various colors, apparently intending to impress her friends. Their nanny, the stern and attentive young woman trying to catch them, sported a simple, yet elegant blue sweater in a lovely pattern.

Lunch time was busy in the restaurant overlooking the Hudson River valley. Raymond waited in the lobby for his host to arrive so that the man could continue telling his story. What a magnificent story it had turned to be too. This was not just a hunch as usual, but he had a sense that he was onto something.

Raymond heard a muffled cough behind him as the bartender approached. He was the same young black man that the old man had called Gus Junior. Sir, Mr. Morton prefers to have lunch on his private balcony. He's expecting you in his suite, sir.

What a pleasant young man he was, with a curious haircut. It was closely cropped with what appeared to be lightning bolts on the sides. Just like his father’s, no, grandfather’s, Raymond thought, remembering parts of the story he had diligently written down.

The young man seemed to read his mind. Has he told you about my great-grandfather, sir? It’s incredible, isn’t it? His age, I mean. If he gives you a hard time, remember to keep some Glenavon handy and he’ll be alright, sir. He sounded slightly amused and gave directions to the suite.

Raymond nodded politely and strolled toward the staircase leading to the executive floor. Passing by the bar, he decided to be safe rather than sorry and picked up a bucket of ice to take with him to the room. He hesitated for a moment, feeling guilty about supplying hard liquor to an old man. Gus Junior winked and handed him a bottle of single malt whiskey.

Entering the suite, Raymond stopped to admire the landscape paintings on the wall. One of them depicted a view of the Two Lakes and Mountain House and it was signed by Thomas Cole. He did not know it, but that was actually the name of the painting as well.

The old man sat in his wheelchair out on the balcony. He was viewing the river valley that extended far into the horizon. Raymond perceived a touch of the blues in his posture, as if the memories weighed on his shoulders more than before. Good to see you, Henry, he said.

It’s my pleasure, sir.

The two men were quiet for a moment, both regarding the fantastic view in front of them.

Where was I, Henry?

You told me about Rosie and how she showed up in Fort Edward, looking for you after such a long time.

Oh yes, she was so lovely and beautiful. I remember so well how the other men ogled at her. I did too for sure. She wore this hat with big feathers and a tight chained corset that really highlighted her gorgeous figure.

The room service brought in lunch on a cart. It was the house special of the day, and the old man’s spirits visibly lifted up. Under the covered dish made of silver, a mouth-watering roast beef was served with rosemary roasted potatoes and a variety of grilled vegetables. It was a fantastic standing rib roast from a nearby farm, filling the balcony with the enticing aromas of garlic, mushrooms, and dry mustard.

It's grass-fed and finished beef, Henry. Have some, please. It took me a long time to learn how to raise cattle the right way.

The server presented a dusty bottle of vintage red wine, but the old man waved it away. Nah, Henry knows what I drink with my meal. You feel guilty, don’t you Henry? Or are you worried about what my wife would have to say about you bringing whiskey to an old frail man? he said, chuckling.

Raymond did not know how to respond. He had not actually considered that the old man was still married. He had not met or seen any signs of family members. Surely he meant that if his wife was still alive, what she would say about it.

Placing his notebook and pen on his side as they sat down at the table, Raymond thought back to the old man’s story. Were there any red flags, demanding further examination? So far, he had not said anything that had no name attached to it. He did not claim to be an eyewitness, although from the sound of it, he actually had been at the scene and in a position to observe what he was telling him. However, significant questions remained. The old man sounded convincing, but taken together was he just passing along unsubstantiated tall tales? How did he know what he knew, and why was he telling him all this?

Raymond reviewed his notes with an eye to important points of view that had not been contained within it. He thought specifically about each sound bite, and in his mind quietly asked himself, who would differ or take the opposite position?

The old man ate with appetite and noticed how Raymond drummed the notebook with his pen. He seemed to discern Raymond’s dilemma. You’ll never know for sure, Henry. I just might be your better than average bullshitter, after all. Considering how the papers report events from the plains today, how reliable are your sources, anyway? He leaned back in his chair, amused.

Raymond cleared his throat, feeling affronted to some extent since the old man seemed to question his professionalism. Before he had a chance to reply, the old man grabbed a heavy whiskey glass and held it out for him, asking with a spark in the corner of his eye. He was just teasing him, Raymond realized as he went to get the Glenavon from the side table.

Raymond poured the golden colored nectar in a glass and after taking a sip, the old man’s expression noticeably relaxed. Another sip and his shoulders fell just slightly as he leaned back. Now where was I? Yes, there I was, knee deep in scalps, when Rosie came looking for me. Henry, do you know what counting a coup means? Of course you don’t. Counting a coup means that in the heat of battle, a warrior showed his courage by marching up to his deadly foe and touching him or his horse. He has to do it without getting whacked in the head with a war club or something. Well, one time I got so mad after little Mary was kidnapped that I walked up to Maiden Foot and bitch slapped him so hard his kids were born dizzy.

The old man’s firm voice filled the balcony and soon Raymond had the same strange sensation as before. He felt like he was being drawn into a whirlpool and things around him became blurry. Grabbing a hold of the table’s edge, he felt lightheaded when all of a sudden, the clock on the wall seemed to melt away, and the building around them disappeared. In his mind’s eye, they were left hanging in midair with an unobscured view that stretched for miles and miles in every direction: left, and right, up and below. How was this possible? Did he slip something into his food? Raymond looked at the vast open skies and out in the distance, he saw a village and as it came to focus, it turned out to be a frontier fort.

§ § §

Green foliage peeked from beneath some remaining patches of ice in the garden. Refreshing spring rains contributed to a fantastic wildflower show in the foothills, and had cleaned the perennial leaves that emerged early from under the melted snow. Spring was in the air in the Hudson River Valley.

A northern hawk-owl sat on the branch of a tree, hiding among white blossoms. He spotted for rodents in the fields of fresh grass below as the wind made ripples of waves on the green meadow. New green sprouts pushed out from the earth and an army of ladybugs, little red specks slowly plodded along the edges of leaves and dead foliage.

On the side of the meadow a big willow, among a tangle of branches, had not been tamed much by pruning and the intricate pattern of branches whipped around in the wind.

A cowboy on horseback, wearing a dark raincoat and leading a pack mule, crossed a stream on his way to Fort Edward. Horse and mule splashed through the crossing point as he heard the crash of thunder and flashes of lightning rumbled in the distance.

As he approached the fort, the cowboy arrived at a row of new buildings leading to the main gate. It had been cold for a long time, and in Fort Edward people enjoyed the warm sunshine, opening windows for the first time after a long dreary winter. Sounds of wood chopping, sawing and hammering filled the air around the fort. He nodded a greeting to a man who prepared a smokehouse next to a grove of alders to cure ham and fish. He collected hickory wood in a pile and behind him as smoke rose from the chimney.

On the other side of the road, another man sold blocks of ice from his icehouse. There was a painted sign on the wall, Tudor Ice Company, although the cowboy could not read.

The lonesome cowboy appraised the whores at a camp by the gate as he rode in under watchful eyes from the guards. He almost ran over a young woman, who walked around the corner on her way to the fort’s infirmary.

Another meeting took place on the fort square by the village well. A nervous young man, blond, tall and muscular for his age, met with a young woman similarly nervy to see him. After he had waited for this moment for years, Finn could hardly believe that Rosie was there, right in front of him, alive and so radiant and beautiful, just like he had imaged her so many times.

Rosie was a voluptuous redhead dressed in a golden afternoon dress with ruffle trim and blue binding on the bodice and hem. It was out of place in this remote frontier fort where people wore loose-fitting garibaldi blouses made of wool. She was anxious to see him and had to fight back the growing tightness in her chest and the tears swelling in her eyes as she saw him approaching across the square. He was so tall and handsome, just like she had imagined him to be after all this time. Now finally, there he was, alive and unharmed.

Had it been three years since they last laid eyes upon each other, or more like four long, grueling lonely years? They had lost count early on and only the dark frustrating worry had remained. That dreadful morning everything had changed, when Finn had left for work at the docks in Bristol and never returned. In the evening, she became increasingly worried when he did not come back on time for supper, as it was not at all like him. He always showed up, and always brought a flower or some small token of his love for her. After a while, she could not stand the gnawing sentiment that something awful had happened any longer. She rushed out to look for him, and much to her horror, heard that he had been seized by a press gang and the ship had already sailed. There was no Hope in the harbor. The uncertainty of one another’s fate had become a part of their lives.

But what can you say after all that time? Not much is needed, really. They came close to each other, only inches separating them now. Nervous again like teenagers, hesitating over what to do, not even knowing what to say. In any case, showing emotions publicly even among married couples was strictly out of bounds. They glanced around to make sure no one was watching and then their fingertips stole a touch, a whisper of contact lasting but a moment. It was enough to send tremors through their bodies, but the in the name of public decency, they had to hold back their desire.

Finn motioned for her to follow him, and led her outside the fort, toward the river. He said he knew a safe place where they would have privacy. She blushed and her well-formed cheeks reddened like ripe apples, as she remembered how they had made love for the first time by a stream in the verdant countryside of Oxfordshire. It had happened after Finn had led her on an exciting, daring escape from London in the wee hours of the night. It had been her first time away from the dirty city.

The Hudson River flowed quietly and a sunlit path wound under reddish poplar trees along the shore. A mountain stream filled with water from melting snow rushed down the hillside. The small falls over a clump of rocks formed a beautiful clear pool in the shade.

Finn sat down on a large flat rock and threw some pebbles in the pond. He was elated to have Rosie right there next to him, but at the same time, he felt guilt swelling up inside him. He did not know what to think. Should he tell her about his taking part in the war? Or what had happened with Prudentina on the slave ship or with Spotted Bear in the forest or the brutal combat and merciless killing in the wilderness? He had done and seen too much to describe anything about it to anyone. I must protect the innocent; what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, he decided. He would handle the guilt and suppress it by sheer willpower. He would push it all out of his mind.

His intentions were good, but he underestimated one crucial thing, and that was Rosie’s intelligence. She was smart, determined and resourceful. Otherwise she would not be there, and she knew her man like no other person in the world. Just by watching the way he kept tossing the pebbles in the water told her loud and clearly how troubled he was. She felt the bottled up uneasiness inside him, and did not say anything. He needs my love to heal and sometimes just being there is the best dressing for the unseen wounds. She gently touched his shoulder, hoping to hearten him, to affirm to him that she was there and to assure herself that he would not disappear again.

The murmur of running water, the spikes of sunlight through the foliage and a warm breeze enveloped them in a magical, tender calm. They required no words or even wanted them because only a single utterance might shatter the delicate moment.

Should I have sex with her? He thought, the touch of her hand sending an arousing shiver through him. It was an odd thought; why would he even hesitate? It would certainly be the most natural thing to do, right? Yes of course, but not now, when flashing images of twisted, agonized faces of dying men in combat went through his mind.

§ § §

The young woman with trimmed waistline and a large bust, who almost got ran over, had not noticed the couple because she had to dodge the rider. Catherina dropped her cap, revealing long blonde hair, and brushed off dust from her cream-colored day dress, made of semi-sheer cotton with satin ribbon accents. She arrived at the small broken gate hanging loose on one hinge, and walked over to a log building without any windows, standing a little distance from others behind the infirmary. It was the mortuary.

Shelagh, a petite woman of Italian ancestry, met her outside of the dark building. The two women took a deep breath and opened the heavy wooden door, feeling the warm air rushing out on their faces. The unpleasant smell was tinged with sweetness, like a piece of rotting meat over which someone had sprinkled a few drops of some cheap incense.

Catherina braced herself mentally and, picking up an apron, wrapped it around her waist. The air inside the mortuary was moist and hot because there was only a small hatch for ventilation in the back corner.

The two women worked mechanically, trying hard not to think of the grim task at hand as they prepared the body of a young Ranger, a boy actually. There was an ugly black hole on his chest, the entry wound, the final deadly greeting from a French sharpshooter. Shelagh could not help noticing his youth and with great sadness she gently touched his cheek. She shivered as the skin felt waxen and rubbery.

In another casket lay a young woman and her stillborn baby. They had died in childbirth, both of them too weak to endure even the first hardship of life.

Catherina wiped a tear from her cheek and wrapped a shawl around them, gently tucking them in as if going to sleep. She picked up a small bundle of blue cornflowers and placed it between them before closing the lid on the casket.

Catherina was heavyhearted and whispered a silent prayer for the departed. Going out, she closed the door gently behind her, as if she did not want to disturb the deceased. She fetched fresh water and some meager foodstuff from a nearby spring house, which was also used for cold storage.

At the infirmary, Catherina took a tea chest to the small kitchen to prepare a hot drink for the wounded. She worked the field hospital tending the suffering men when Rosie approached her. Seeing her coming from the corner of her eye, Catherina turned to fold dressings, pretending not to have seen Rosie.

I couldn't help but notice what you do. You're such a courageous woman, Rosie said.

Someone has to do it, Catherina replied and continued to work. She realized that Rosie wanted to befriend her, but she was not going to make it easy for her. Catherina was wary and jealous of Rosie’s sudden appearance in the fort. Did she have sex with him? She was anxious to know, realizing now how her feelings toward Finn had grown stronger.

I'm not sure if I am up to something like that, Rosie said, standing at the entrance and indecisively touching the doorframe.

Catherina glanced at her and could not help it, but she actually liked Rosie’s unassuming demeanor, which was in contrast to her beautiful looks and striking figure. What brings you here, Rosie? Why have you traveled all that distance to be here?

Well, like I said— Rosie started to reply.

Catherina stopped and turned to face Rosie. This is not London. We’re at war here! Finn has been through a lot, you know. He has done more than his share. They are gone all the time. There are days and weeks we don't know anything, and then he comes back a total wreck! He may act rough and tough, but I know.

Rosie’s eyes flared and she was about retort, but bit her tongue. She did not want to cause a scene among the wounded men who were Finn’s comrades. The women knew well that they were competitors. They measured each other, and what they discovered did not make things any easier for them. They actually liked each other and recognized a kindred spirit. The only sound in the room came from the fiercely boiling tea kettle.

Rosie broke the silence between them. I see you're busy, perhaps we can talk later. She turned to leave, closing the door behind her quietly.

Catherina looked out of the window to see Rosie go and throw a wet towel in a bucket so hard it fell over. She was not used to feeling jealous and cursed as she burned her hand on the hot tea kettle.

Catherina heard agitated voices outside. Shelagh followed her out to learn what was happening. A crowd gathered in front of her hospital.

What’s going on here? Catherina asked, facing the wall of intense faces before her. Seeing her staunch stance, the people lost their courage and went quiet. Catherina’s quick temper took them completely by surprise. Then, with a nervous hustle they pushed one of the men forward. He tried to get back but the crowd would not let him so he took off his hat and faced Catherina.

Ma'am, with all due respect, we’ve been through all this before. We appreciate your help and all, but you are too manly! He gulped, fully expecting Catherina to unleash her temper on him. A fiery-eyed old woman barged through the crowd and pushed the man aside. It was minister Adal Mauser’s wife Margaret, dressed in a long dress in dull colors and prayer covering as always. She was a solemn and subdued figure when her husband was present, but right then she was full of religious fervor. That's right! You should take your proper place in the community! A woman's place is at home, taking care of her husband and family! You don't even have a beau, Ms. Brett! You're not a witch, are you?

Catherina knew well that the people considered her rightful place as a woman was ordained in the bible. She was to keep her mouth shut and become an obedient wife and housekeeper. On the other hand, she grew up running around with her sporty brother and his Mahican friends, and had learned different ways. The man mustered enough courage to step in and act as a mediator. Now, Ms. Brett, I will relay your story and you’d better be still and be quiet, he said and turned to the crowd. The other day she was pleasure riding in the woods when she ran into some hostile warriors, he started but Catherina cut him short.

I wasn’t pleasure riding! I was on patrol that day to attempt to rescue Mary Means and to make sure no enemy could surprise us!

Catherina began to tell her story, but her reaction only made the townspeople even more agitated, making it hard for her to hear herself talk. Women should keep silent and allow their husbands to do the talking, but Catherina was single. There she goes again! That story cannot be reliable because she is permitted to talk!

Catherina raised her finger to retort, but held her breath because it would be useless. She stormed off and returned to her farm.

§ § §

In a shady alley in Fort Edward, Fat Murray was a sad, sad man, and he was up to no good. He tried to hide his oversized belly and protruding ears behind a rain water barrel and a pile of planks by a wall. Fat Murray saw himself as an honest, god-fearing and hardworking man, and his intelligence definitely was higher than all the rest of the country bumpkins. His misfortunes simply were unjust and had nothing to with him, really. The sad fact was that he was the kind of man who always blamed others for his own misery, and every time he was the victim of circumstances.

Fat Murray wanted to belong to a group, any group, desperately and to get a piece of the glory as well. When the war broke out, all he wanted was to be a Ranger. The problem was that he feared them more than anything else in the world, besides women. Trying to enlist, he had washed out miserably and to top it off, he had had to endure ridicule from them.

Having failed at the Rangers, he turned to running rum and guns on the Hudson River. The war was raging on the frontier and the demand for guns and ammo was at an all-time high. Whiskey and rum were used up by the barrels. Nonetheless, he even failed at being a petty criminal. Feeling superior and always so smart and resourceful, he started skimming profits from his partners in crime in one tavern to pay his gambling debt in another. That did not come out well because the people behind the illicit operation were organized and well-connected — at the highest levels.

In his mind, every time he arrived at Fort Edward to deliver another load of the valuable booze, he was mocked. Particularly that immigrant Finn, who seemed to go from one heroic exploit to the next without any effort and all the women fell head-over-heels for.

That made Fat Murray one unhappy man. Things had not worked out well for him. It did not stop him from fabricating stories to unwary people, usually young people who did not know better. He was good at cheating, stealing, lying, manipulating and just being an all-around good for nothing scumbag. Unfortunately, there were many people like him in the provinces, thanks to the British government. They chose to get rid of petty criminals and clean the streets of London from the riffraff by simply deporting them to America. That suited Fat Murray well because he was able to find kindred spirits in those like Mary Brazier, proprietor of the Tangier Tavern, and one William Plunkett.

Finn, Gus, and Fronto had had an unpleasant opportunity to meet with the two earlier in a drunken escapade. It ended up in a botched highway robbery in an attempt to get more drinking money. One of their cohorts, John Jones, had his head blown off and the rest of them were scattered, on the lam in the woods. Plunkett disappeared to continue his shadowy trade elsewhere while Finn, Gus, and Fronto enlisted with the Rangers to hide in plain sight. Robert Rogers was the only one who would hire Iroquois warriors, foreign vagrants and a former slave. He needed people in his ranks that nobody would miss.

After being washed out from the Rangers, Fat Murray linked up with Plunkett and started running guns and rum on the Hudson River, Mary Brazier in the Tangier Tavern being one of his most loyal customers and distributors. For a while the business was doing well and Fat Murray got even fatter. While the rest of the populace writhed and the men were dying on the battlefields, he made good money off of others' suffering. Dirty deeds done dirt cheap was his business slogan.

Everything changed when the Europeans induced peasants in Turkey to raise opium. Enormous quantities of the drug made its way to Great Britain, swelled by the number of merchants involved. A part of it was reshipped to burgeoning markets in America by the very lowlifes the government deported. Global trade was booming and the best sellers were slaves and opium.

Fat Murray knew right away that his ship had arrived and he was going to make a fortune. One of his best customers was none other than Johan Kopf, who resided on the top floor of the opium den in Albany. So far so good, but eventually Fat Murray’s greed got the better of him and he began skimming off profits from the Plunkett gang's drug shipments. Plunkett was a ruthless man who jealously guarded his turf. He was going to get rid of Murray by just dumping him in the river wearing concrete shoes.

Mary Brazier, however, had developed a sort of a soft spot for the sweet talking fat bastard and tipped him off. Plunkett was furious and had Brazier beaten severely by his cronies who gang raped her, but in the end they did not kill her. Demonstrating the foxlike cunning of someone who lived on his wits, Plunkett then informed the authorities of Murray’s illicit activities, including horse-theft, knowing that the penalty would be death if or when he was caught.

Yellow-bellies know all the decent hiding places and Fat Murray was prepared. He disappeared from sight to wait for better days and new victims, or opportunities as he called them. Being a convincing liar, he talked himself into a partnership of sorts at a remote trading post. Everything would have been fine, except for his extremely low moral character. While dealing rum on the side, he journeyed to Fort Edward and one day saw Finn. Fat Murray was racked by resentment and set up an ambush.

Now there he was, waiting with his musket ready, brave and resolute, having decided to settle a score and take revenge. When he saw Finn walking by on his way out of the fort, Fat Murray slowly cocked the rifle so it would not make any noise. He licked his lips, anticipating an easy kill, just like poaching a farmer’s runaway cow. No need to face off, he was going to shoot a man in the back and be done with it. Just as he was taking aim, he heard a cough behind him and turned to see Sheriff Jimmie Dick holding a pistol pointed at his temple at close range.

An old drunkard, Dick took a swig from his flask and mopped his sweaty brow on his sleeve. I wouldn't do that if I were you, Fat Murray. Ironic isn't it, but all the same, it’s Captain Kopf's orders, you are not to touch him. Is that clear?

Fat Murray kept staring at the gaping, large caliber muzzle of the pistol aimed right between his eyes and noticed how the sheriff’s hand shook a little and his trigger finger twitched slightly. Fat Murray gulped and realized that he was less than a quarter of an inch from death. A large wet stain appeared on his crotch. He nodded pleasingly and lowered his musket. I wasn't going to do anything, and I was just— his whining voice faltered.

Dick waved his pistol drunkenly, causing Fat Murray to flinch. Shut the fuck up! I know you. You’re nothing but a yellow-bellied liar and a thief! As a matter fact, Captain Kopf suspected you might try to pull off something like this. He wouldn't like you robbing him of his revenge. He ordered me to make sure you're not going to intervene, so consider yourself arrested. Off to Albany you go. I'll take the rifle. He poked Fat Murray in the head with his pistol.

§ § §

Catherina arrived back at her farm and started raking the yard energetically. There was so much work to be done; animals had to be fed and then the cow had to be milked. Then eggs laid by hens in hiding places had to be found, and the oak trees had dropped so many acorns that had to be collected. The real thing was that working kept her mind off other unpleasant matters. Besides, she liked keeping the place tidy and pretty and using her imagination for decorating ideas. Taking a short break, she noticed Finn approaching on the driveway but pretended not to see him.

In truth, she was pleased to see Finn, and now that he was here to see her, she felt somehow victorious over Rosie. He had gained muscle, his powerful figure dressed in a green Ranger coat and worn leather and cradled a musket on his left arm, a habit he had learned from his commander Major Robert Rogers. She found his short, stubby, blond beard and long blond hair rather sexy, tied back in the club on his neck. Usually, he kept it cropped short.

He gathered enough courage to say what he had to say.

I came to talk about Rosie.

Her shoulders slumped; that was the last thing she wanted to hear. Yeah? What about her? She tried to sound as uninterested as she possibly could.

He took couple steps closer and handed her a bundle of colorful fabric, which confused her even more. Here, I brought you some new drapery. I thought you might like it, Finn said, handing the yard goods to Catherina.

Thanks, it's so sweet, she replied quietly, trying to imagine where he had found such a rare article for a gift. She could not know it, but he had bought it from Helen of Magdalena. They stood silent for a moment, and then she continued to rake the yard.

Finn took off his caubeen and fumbled with the moose head pendant in a leather cord around his neck. For some reason, he felt that she deserved an explanation and was obligated to tell her. Catherina, it was a long time ago in another place. But I am not going to lie to you. Rosie was, or is my first love.

She stopped raking the yard. Was? Or is?

I was just as surprised as anyone else to see her again. The war and an ocean came between us.

Do you think it's still there?