The boy looked on in silence, the dog seated by his side. Watching the concentration on the Mohawk’s face, the boy’s mind went back to the moment he’d shot the Oneida runner. It was strange, he thought, that he’d been unable to stop his hand shaking as he sewed up the wound in the Mohawk’s arm, yet he’d acted without hesitation when it came to firing the pistol, or using the hatchet back at the farm. He wondered why that was. The only answer he could come up with was that the men he’d hurt had been bad men. One had been responsible for killing Will Archer, the other had been trying to kill his friend.

Friend? The word had come to him unbidden. Was Tewanias really his friend? In the time since their paths had first crossed, few words had been exchanged between them and yet, curious as it seemed, some sort of bond had been created. As he pondered why this should be, the boy’s hand moved unconsciously to the amulet around his throat.

When he’d heard the Oneida’s yell and followed the sound to where the two men were fighting in midstream, his hand had automatically reached for the pistol. It was the same one Beth Archer had used to shoot one of the horsemen. He’d retrieved it, unseen, along with Will Archer’s powder case and ammunition, when he’d collected his belongings from the cabin. Uncle Will had taught him how to shoot during their hunting trips, and how to load and maintain a firearm. Even so, he feared that if the pastor knew he had a weapon he would confiscate it, so the gun had remained hidden in the bag that he carried on him at all times. Thankfully, he’d taken the precaution of loading it after Tam’s encounter with the bear. When the moment came to use it, his grip had not faltered and his aim had been firm and steady.

Tam nuzzled his arm. Stretching out a hand, he ruffled the dog’s fur. It had been Tam’s nose that had led them to Tewanias. How, the boy had no idea. Despite Tam’s eagerness to latch on to a spoor, the likelihood of finding one man in this endless tract of forest had seemed an impossible task. And yet here they were. He wondered if it had been the smell of bear that had set Tam on the right trail. One of the first things he’d noticed about the Mohawk was his scent. Wyatt had explained.