Eye of the Raven by Eliot Pattison

exhausted to worry about the verbal and probably physical flagellation he was about to receive for breaking into the jail and interfering with the prisoners. Yet he was not merely overcome with fatigue. For the moment he was seized also by an odd flush of satisfaction. He had delivered a healthy infant boy. The woman herself, Becca by name, had been more experienced than either Duncan or Hadley, but Duncan had played the role of the midwife.
    He had an unexpected longing to write a letter to Sarah Ramsey in the New York colony, who had claimed his heart the year before, to tell of delivering his first baby. Then an officer appeared at a fast, hopping pace, buttoning his gaiters as he moved out of the officer's quarters, spitting invective at the soldier who trotted in front of him. Duncan looked into his hands, stained from the night's work, collecting himself, bracing himself. But suddenly more invective rose from the outer gate, still lit by lanterns. A chorus of new angry voices erupted from outside the walls.
    "My God, McCallum," came a weary voice behind him. "I never . . . " Hadley failed to complete the sentence as he dropped onto the bench beside him. "Becca said her son is named Penn. When I was leaving the old Indian called out."
    Duncan, only half listening, was watching the officer at the gate. Then the words registered. "Conawago is awake?"
    "He asked to see the little boy, to hold him. Mokie brought him, and he whispered in the boy's ear, an Indian prayer, I think, and told her he would have a long and rewarding life."
    Duncan kept watching the gate, slowly realizing that the sudden activity marked the unexpected, early arrival of the treaty delegation. "A prayer?" he asked, turning to Hadley.
    "Thanking the gods. He said it was a very good omen, that a young one arrives when the old depart, that the spirits were saying they are ready to welcome him today."
    "Tell me, McCallum," Latchford demanded, "who is the commanding officer responsible for the rangers in this theater of war?"
    Duncan fought to steady himself. He had been at the well, washing his hands, when Latchford's men had dragged him into the major's office. "Captain Woolford is the only name I need to know."
    An icy grin grew on Latchford's face. "What is the monthly pay for one of the king's rangers?"
    Duncan stared silently at the officer.
    The amusement in the major's eyes fanned into a smoldering anger. "What is the official kit issued to a ranger?"
    "The rangers, sir, are irregulars. Some serve as the need arises."
    "You have the stench of a fugitive. I should clamp you in irons right now, McCallum," the officer snapped, then gestured to a piece of folded foolscap on his desk beside one of the brown envelopes used for army business. "I have already drafted a letter to Philadelphia seeking the truth about you. If I decide you have stolen that badge I will hang you forthwith. I could write the order this morning. A double hanging would be excellent for discipline. We have enough damned Scots in the infantry. We don't need more skulking about the wilderness."
    Duncan lifted his gaze from the letter. He could ill afford to have inquiries about him raised with senior officers. He returned the major's stare, the fog in his head beginning to lift as he recognized the note of invitation in Latchford's voice. "What is it you want, Major?"
    "This matter must be settled today, immediately."
    "The treaty convoy has been arriving since dawn," Duncan noted. "It's a day early."
    "It is but the vanguard. The delegates are hours behind. The Virginians have declared that if justice is not served out today they will take the prisoner back to Virginia for punishment. I will not tell my general I lost thirty good wilderness fighters over some aged savage who should have been in his grave years ago."
    More importantly, Duncan decided, Latchford could not jeopardize the treaty by conducting a murder trial in front of the treaty dignitaries. "He is innocent."
    "There is