Four Killer's Bride

By David G Tippens

The long war for independence is over. Now, the American Patriots face the Chickamauga warriors in another war, even as settlers expand their families and homesteads.

 

Sagonige Daniel Jones is a handsome, blue-eyed Cherokee warrior with a white father and Cherokee mother—and has been educated in both worlds. Though he excels in both, he ultimately finds himself embroiled in the Chickamauga War, fighting with the fierce warriors of a faction of the Cherokee. It is during these time that he earns the name "Four Killer."

 

A return to sea and the white man's world, fraught with danger and fighting, is Sagonige's fate. The unpredictability of these times is constant. For Sagonige, love is won and lost … and another found in the most unlikely of places …

 

Yet another Glynne family member is involved in fleeing British tyranny. She is a green-eyed, fair-skinned young lady. As brave and determined as she is beautiful, Autumn Glynne and Sagonige are immediately drawn to each other, their attraction undeniable. Amidst the scars of war, their love affair blooms. Is there a wedding in the future for Four Killer?

 

Four Killer's Bride is the fourth book in the Bonds in Love & War series, an ongoing saga surrounding the American Revolutionary War, its buildup and its aftermath.

• Language: English
• Publisher: thewordverve
• Release date: Aug 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781956856422

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Twigg Havan leaned back and looked between the toes of his nearly knee-high, lace-up deerskin boots. From his vantage point in a huge oak tree, atop one of the highest ridges overlooking the Ha-taw-wah River valley near the Cherokee towns of Hickory Log and Red Clay Banks, he could see for miles. To the north, the southernmost mountain ridges of the Blue Ridge were clearly visible. This was in the general direction towns such as Taloney, Ellijay, Cartecay, Tickanetley, Turnip Town, Owl Town, and Fighting Town.

To the north, a sharply pointed, cone-shaped mountain was clearly visible, and to the southwest of it was Pine Log Mountain. In that vicinity were Pine Log Town and Lost Town. Farther to the south, about twenty miles away, were the two peaks of Canasau Mountain. Just northeast of those peaks were the headwaters of Nunedhi Creek, which flowed northward to Usdi Equoni (Little River). This river flowed into the Ha-taw-wah River at Su-da-li yi, or Sixes Town.

Though they’d never met, Twigg knew of the headman there at Sixes Town. His name was Six Killer.

Such a beautiful country, Twigg thought as he gazed upon the landscape. He came here quite often to meditate and behold the wonder of the area.

There was another reason he preferred this particular location. He could see the valley and the marble stone house that was his home. That was the valley of Two Falling Waters, so named because of the two waterfalls at the foot of the valley where the two creeks joined and flowed into the Ha-taw-wah River, which the whites were already referring to as the Eh-to-wah, also spelled as Etowah. Unfortunately, the two waterfalls were not visible from his perch due to trees and ridges.

This was the year 1785. Twigg’s mind wandered back to the war years and coming to Two Falling Waters. During those years, the Cherokee towns in this area were small in number and in size. As the war raged on, the Cherokee to the east were forced out of their homes and more and more refugees drifted west to resettle. Some formed their own villages or towns, while others simply joined in with existing ones.

The war with the British had officially ended in 1783, two years ago. Some of the Cherokee, called Chickamauga Cherokees, still fought the white settlers. Cherokee refugees and dissenters straggled into this area and farther north. War-weary, sick, hungry, and devastated, they were desperately looking for a place to settle peacefully among their own people to rebuild their lives. The little towns and villages grew with their coming.

The town of Long Swamp, a few miles to the north along the Etowah River near Taliwa and downriver from Frog Town, had been destroyed during the war by invading American forces. It had relocated a little farther upstream on Long Swamp Creek, where an old trail came down between the hills into the creek valley. This fording place attracted refugee Cherokee and other misplaced people of other tribes. The town had grown and flourished. The same with Hickory Log Town, where the creek of the same name flowed into the Etowah River.

Times were tense, still. The Chickamauga Cherokee, Muskogee Creeks, and an assortment of Chickasaw, Yuchi, Shawnee, and Choctaw warriors still waged war against the new nation—the United States of America. Other tribes and portions of the Cherokee and Creek were tired of war and death, and thus, they chose to live in peace. The main instigators of the unrest and raids on the frontier were centered in the Chickamauga region near Chattanooga, along the Tanasi River.

Most of the Native Americans living along this stretch of the Etowah and nearby areas were content to live in a manner so as to not antagonize the white people. They turned to more peaceful pursuits, such as learning the white man’s farming methods, planting orchards, building and operating grist mills, building dwellings using white-man tools and techniques, and operating blacksmith shops.

It was during this time that more and more white men began drifting from the white settlements to live and marry among the Native Americans. These squaw men, for the most part, were accepted by the Indian population and society. In return, the white men usually adopted the ways, dress, language, and customs of the natives. They contributed to their adopted people by showing them the white man’s ways of farming and building and use of various tools. They also helped make better deals with the white traders in Charleston and Savannah and with the peddlers who managed to haul goods deeper and deeper into the Indian territory. Some of them were traders themselves, bringing items of civilization such as rifles, shot, gunpowder, pots, pans, metal tools, plows, beads, blankets, clothing, spinning wheels, various trinkets, and many other items the Cherokee did not produce themselves.

Twigg thought of all this activity going on, which was small-scale compared to what was to come. He shivered suddenly as he foresaw the end of their way of life here one day, and the demise of the Indian nations, as many had already suffered up and down the eastern seaboard. He knew it was only a matter of time before it happened here.

Until then, all he could do was go on living and enjoying life as best he could and to help his friends in the Cherokee Nation. Two Falling Waters was a beautiful place to live, and the big white-rock house, known simply as the Rock House, was the best shelter in this neck of the woods. And he intended to do all he could to help his own family and his close friends and their families as long as there was breath in his body.

Close friends and brothers were what he considered Robert Glynne and Verdin Girard. They had met just before the war and suffered through the long years of death and wounds, heat and cold, and overwhelming fatigue. Many of their experiences in the war were nearly indescribable with the hurt and cruelty of their enemies.

Another person very close to Twigg was Robert’s brother, Christopher Jonathan Glynne, known affectionately as Chris Jon. They had met later in the war but had become close friends. Chris Jon and his family had gone west with a small band of Cherokee, living in a place known as Tongue Valley at the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.

Twigg was a man of many talents, skills, creativity, and intuition. He was a woodworker and carver; he could build houses and barns; and he was a ship’s carpenter. He could operate as blacksmith, a gunsmith, and inventor … and just about anything else the occasion called for. A humble man and a great teacher, he unselfishly shared his knowledge and expertise with others.

The one thing Twigg was only moderately good at was being a woodsman. Even at that, he was probably better than most white men. Rob and Verdin had become quite adept at it, but even they could never equal or surpass the man known as Watching Hawk. The full-blood Cherokee was simply amazing with what he could do tracking, being aware of his surroundings, and the various little intricacies of being a good woodsman.

Twigg suddenly became aware that something was out of balance with the universe. It was the feeling that he was no longer alone or that someone was watching him.

He was right on both accounts.

At the foot of the oak, looking up at him was Watching Hawk. Without a sound, the man had followed Twigg’s trail and appeared suddenly out of nowhere to observe Twigg way up in the tree. He never said a word until Twigg carefully descended and stood in front of him.

They both smiled and shook hands. What brings my friend Watching Hawk to find me and make him leave his wife and family? Must be important.

Watching Hawk chuckled and looked his friend in the eye. Word has come from Seagate, he said in clear and well-spoken English. His time with his white friends and their efforts to teach him English and, in turn, to learn the Cherokee dialect had paid off handsomely. Robert … er, Major Glynne asked me to find you and bring you home as quickly as possible.

Without further ado, Twigg followed Watching Hawk, who had brought along an extra horse for him. They both mounted quickly in silence and headed for the Rock House at Two Falling Waters.

CHAPTER TWO

Foggy damp conditions prevailed and the seas were choppy off the northwest coast of England. The American vessel plying the coastal waters of the largest naval power in the world was commanded by Captain Wolloston, brother-in-law to Maj. Robert Glynne, who was also on board. He had requested Twigg and Verdin to remain at home, just in case something went wrong with this venture.

All those on board were volunteers who considered this journey a worthwhile cause and wanted to help in any way they could.

Samuel and his wife came along, having offered their assistance in the galley, preparing food for those on board. They brought along chickens, pigs, goats, and recipes that really spiced up the food choices for the sailors. Although Samuel had a peg leg, one could hardly tell with the way he got around so easily. His wife, Isabella, was a lively, jolly soul, extremely devoted to her husband. She was always the optimist and could be counted on for a helping hand.

Also on board were soldiers who had served with Rob, Twigg, and Verdin during the war. Most of them were from the Cedar Shoals area, where Cedar Haven Farm was located. The farm had been built and settled by the three friends. Rob’s father and mother, along with Rob’s uncle and his new wife, were the general managers of the farm now.

Two of the former soldiers had been detailed to be responsible for operating two large, heavy, long-barreled rifles—the design of which was invented by Twigg. These rifles were very long-range capable and fired a projectile, also developed by Twigg, that was long and pointed. Both rifles were outfitted with telescopes, which was an uncommon feature at the time. In the hands of these two young sharpshooters, these innovative weapons were extremely accurate and deadly at long distances, which was not even close to possible with the typical firearms of the day.

The Glynne family was from England—Rob’s mother’s family from Loxley, with a long history in England. The Glynnes had cousins and aunts and uncles and even great-aunts and -uncles living in little towns and hamlets scattered here and there. Rob’s great-uncle lived in a small farming community in northwest England, not too far from the coast. The uncle had a great-granddaughter now, around seventeen years of age, who still lived with her mother. The girl’s father had been killed by the British as a suspected smuggler and member of a group sympathetic to the cause of the rebellious colonies. The men in this group wore clothing that made them look like mounted scarecrows when they were conducting their business against the Crown. The British had charged them all with not only being smugglers, but also conducting sabotage and clandestine warfare against the king.

Elisha Seagate, a merchant in Savannah, was a dear friend of the Glynnes. He had received a letter from an associate in England that Rob’s great-uncle wanted to get his daughter and granddaughter out of England. The family had long wanted to leave England for the colonies, but circumstances had not permitted it. In due time, Seagate then received a letter directly from Billy Hugh Glynne, the great-uncle. It contained a time-frame, location, and instructions, whereby the mother and daughter could be retrieved and moved on board Captain Wolloston’s ship, the USS Roanoke.

Rob and his two friends had immediately agreed it must be done. Thus it was that they were on board the Roanoke in close proximity to the point at which they were to anchor. From there, they were to take the ship’s longboat ashore to meet the two ladies and return with them and their belongings to the ship.

Because mail delivery between the two nations was slow, as was travel time, the window of opportunity to accomplish this rescue needed to be rather large. Billy Hugh’s letter had given four to six weeks’ leeway for the ladies to be in place on the coast, basically in hiding, waiting to be retrieved. This window of time was based on the anticipated arrival time of the ship, provided it had left America on the date requested in the letter.

Billy Hugh cautioned them from appearing in public. It was rather tense in the area due to the smuggler situation and troops of the king being on high alert. Strangers in town would be noticed and reported.

Crossing the Atlantic had been a little rough due to stormy weather and heavy seas but Wolloston and crew arrived off the coast a little before the halfway mark of their allotted time-frame. They were within sight of the coast before sundown, and by nightfall they were greeted by a bright moon and cloudless skies.

The Roanoke sat a little low in the water, as she was loaded with cargo. The hold was filled with lumber, pitch, and other such products of the colonies, which would go to Seagate’s agents in France. This gave them an alibi for being in this vicinity if called upon for an explanation of their purpose and destination.

The plan was to bring the two ladies aboard and hightail it for France before heading back across the Atlantic to Savannah. They hoped they would not be accosted by a British warship and have to fight their way out of a jam.

The Roanoke approached the point of land just inside a bay, where a small village nestled in an indentation of the shoreline. In the moonlit night, small vessels could clearly be seen nearby tied up at small piers. A few larger vessels rode their anchors farther away, including one that was clearly a three-masted, ship-rigged sloop, as they were approximately the same size as their own vessel.

They carefully made their way to just inside the curve of land and dropped anchor. Even before the anchor splashed, Rob and two others had made ready the ship’s boat. They lowered it and headed for their destination—a pub on the waterfront called the Green Fish Eye Tavern. The letter had said the pub was a little to the left of the village, looking inland from the harbor.

There was no room to moor their longboat on the small plank pier, so they ran it inland as far as they could and ran her into the sandy shoreline. They jumped out and pulled with all their might to get the boat as near the water’s edge as possible in the shallow water. One of Rob’s companions stayed on board, several weapons near him, as he hunkered down in the bow. Rob and the other sailor, a man named Hokely Benton, ran with the anchor as far as possible, jabbing it into the sandy and rocky ground, then pulled the rope taut.

It didn’t take very long to locate the Green Fish Eye Tavern, thanks to a weathered but large sign above the entrance—a white fish head with a big green eye. They approached the door cautiously, trying to peer into the dimly lit interior for any sign of British soldiers.

A sneak peek proved virtually impossible, however, so they walked on in, Rob leading the way. They strode with confidence, as if they belonged there. Immediately upon entering, they made note of the pub’s layout and furnishings, which included a bar counter and tables positioned around the floor and along three walls. The bar was to the right, facing the rear wall of the building. A few patrons were scattered about, hunkered over plates of food or mugs of grog—none paid them any mind.

Without hesitation, they walked up to the bar and ordered a pint each. At first, the barkeep eyed them suspiciously as he prepared their drinks. When he brought them back, Hokely asked the man if he knew the name of the nearest vicar.

A look of relief seemed to come over the man as he noticeably relaxed. Yes, I do, he said quietly, avoiding eye contact. I can tell you where his church is, and I can even give you directions to his quarters. In a much lower voice, he said, He is expecting you. He told me to send you to him as soon as you arrive, no matter the hour of day.

His directions were simple and easy to follow. The vicar’s quarters were very close by, just one street over. Near the main building was an attached wing consisting of four simple rooms, a portico running the length of the building. The vicar’s room was the last one on the right.

Robert and Hokely left their drinks and soon arrived at the vicar’s door. Rob tapped lightly on the wood with his pistol butt. Nothing happened for several moments, and Rob was about to knock again when he heard the sound of someone unbolting the door from the inside. When the door opened, a silhouette of a robed man was barely visible in the moonlight.

Come in. I’ve been looking for you to arrive.

Once the three of them were inside and the door was closed, the robed figure lit a candle, and with that one, two more. The light revealed a man about six feet tall, and