Frederick Ice chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

It had been a most beautiful day in the tiny settlement on the Potomac River at the drains of Patterson Creek. Summer was past and the crops had been wonderfully good. It was a great time to be alive!

Mary Margaret Ice had not yet closed the shutters of the windows. She stood watching the shadows of evening fall, wishing Frederick were back home safely. This journey to Winchester was difficult and dangerous.

Her children stood behind her, also gazing out at the shadows. William, age 10; Margaret, 8; and Mary, 5. John, age 14, had gone with his father to Winchester this time. Like Frederick and Mary Margaret, all had blond hair and blue eyes, just like their ancestors in Germany.

The women in the other houses were also waiting for their husbands. This was wild frontier in the year of 1745. It took courage, some said it took foolhardiness, to push back the wilderness, clear the land, and plant civilization as well as crops.

It was now dusk, difficult to see very far. The dogs began a wild barking. Mary Margaret peered out into the dusk and thought she saw shadows moving. She could not be certain.

"William! Take Mary and Margaret into the loft. Hide yourselves. Quick!"

A devout Lutheran, Mary Margaret began reciting the Lord's Prayer. "Vater unser, Du bist im himmel..."

"Suddenly wild shouts and bloodcurdling screams filled the air! Mary Margaret snatched up the musket which was always kept handy in these parts. She fired at a shadow, but could not tell whether the bullet hit.

By now the Indians were shooting fire arrows into the thatching of the roof. She could smell smoke and sparks began to fly through in some places.

A bright glare showed that they had set fire to the corn stalks still standing in the fields, and to the brush. As one of the Indians came into the light, she could see by his markings that he was a Mohawk. What were they doing this far from their home? She continued to fire the musket and hit one Indian, who went limping away.

Then some of the Indians picked up a large log. They ran with it toward the door of the house.

Crash! The door smashed inward to fall on the floor. Indians charged into the room. Two wrestled Mary Margaret into a corner and tied her hands behind her. Another climbed into the loft and soon threw the children down to those below.

"Just look at the hair," one of them said, in the guttural Indian tongue. "White, like snow."

The Indians were amazed at the blond hair and blue eyes. They ran their fingers through the hair. Then they carried Mary Margaret and the children outside. Some had taken captives from the other houses. The Indians quickly melted into the woods, dragging their captives along.

"Hurry!" they shouted. They slapped the captives and punched them, forcing them through the dense underbrush. Pursuit would be behind them. They must escape quickly and cross the Great River into Ohio.

But the captives could not keep up with the warriors. Finally Mary Margaret stumbled and fell. In disgust a brave split her skull with a tomahawk, then took her scalp with his knife. It was over quickly.

The warriors rushed on, dragging the children.