1764—Wild geese call from the hazy river, mingling their high-pitched cries with the rushing water in a primal summons that Charity Edmondson cannot resist. She flees the log house and her scolding aunt and darts through the meadow to the river. If only her older brother still lived, she could do as she pleased. If only she could fly up into the mist with the geese.
Wicomechee has scouted out the Scots-Irish settlement and the war party is in place. Then she comes. Thoughts of retaliation fade as the auburn-haired beauty retreats near his hiding place. Her brilliant hair
, like autumn leaves, and green eyes remind him of a spirit of the trees.
Charity jumps impulsively to the ground.
"I'd run away if I had anyone to run to. Hang it all, I'll go anyway."
"Will you go alone?" a low unfamiliar voice asks.
She whirls around to find a tall young man behind her grasping his musket. He is the most savagely handsome man she's ever seen. Stripes of red and black paint blur his striking features. Scrutiny narrows his chocolate-brown eyes, like the dark pools where deep-woods fern grow. Something in his eyes, his face, reminds her of the man in her dream.
But this can't be him—he's a Shawnee warrior!
Pontiac's War swiftly followed the French and Indian War. Settlements all along the colonial frontier have felt the wrath of tribes allied under Chief Pontiac. But the Indian wars are over now—or are they? The English will not allow the Shawnee to trade for what they need. Without powder, shot, muskets, how are the people to hunt? The English must pay for the suffering they have brought. Perhaps then they will hear.
