Private Jacob Murray, a twenty-six-year-old Pennsylvanian volunteer in the ranks of George Washington's Virginia Provincial Militia, is scouting the dense, almost impassable Ohio Valley wilderness in May 1754. Together with his twin brother, Israel, and two Mingo warriors, Jacob searches for a party of French troops encroaching on British soil. Back at home, Murray's wife, Maggie, and their four children carve out a meager existence until a group of French and Huron war parties raid their small farm. Taken captive, they are unsure if they will live to see their husband and father again. With word spreading that French-backed Huron raiding parties are decimating the Pennsylvania countryside and taking white captives, young Major Washington, Murray, and a French officer bent on revenge are destined to cross paths. As three hostile powers continue to vie for control of the coveted Ohio Valley, a war soon begins that will engulf them all. The Gauntlet Runner tells a tale of fractured lives, broken treaties, and the stark realities of the struggles faced by early American settlers as they risk their lives to cultivate the young, formidable nation. THE GAUNTLET RUNNER A Tale from the French and Indian War By S. Thomas Bailey iUniverse, Inc. Copyright © 2011 S. Thomas Bailey All right reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4620-5123-6 Chapter One Maggie Murray was up before the sun had completely cleared the shadows of Laurel Ridge, to the north. The Murrays' small cabin sat on a little over three acres of cleared land situated in a small valley near Black Creek. The Black Creek provided them ample fresh mountain runoff water from the Laurel and Chestnut Ridges. The land was surrounded by deep, menacing old-growth forest; swampy bogs; open, wondrous meadows; and treacherous mountain passes, and if it wasn't for an old Seneca tract that linked the other farms to the east and a main trail leading to the trading post at Will's Creek to the northeast, they would have been isolated from the civilized world. Her life was much harder since her husband, Jacob, decided to enlist in the Virginia Provincial Militia. Although they lived in Pennsylvania, the local territorial leaders refused to offer protection to the expanding number of white settlers along the frontier. This meant they were left virtually unprotected from the growing Huron, Delaware, and Shawnee raiding parties, and from the French, who were bent on claiming the land for themselves. Maggie had just celebrated her twenty-sixth birthday, but she honestly felt more like a fifty-year-old. Her once-beautiful face now carried the strain of the two weeks she had spent performing all the chores around the farm. It would be a long six months before Jacob, by God's grace, completed his obligation to the Virginia militia and would be permitted to return home. The sole reason for his absence was the promise of a large plot of land awarded to the men who served their time with the militia. Maggie had always taken on her share of the farm work. She could use a rifle or skin a deer just as well as most of the men in the county. Growing up on the highlands of Scotland and working on her parents' farm since she could walk prepared her for just such moments. She had her long brown hair tied back with a spare piece of blue ribbon, and her dress and apron were stained with the dirt and filth from her hard work. Maggie's normally thin frame was now also showing the added hardships, as her clothing was noticeably loose and she was having difficulty sleeping at night. Before she stepped out side, Maggie had her two eldest children—James and his twin sister, Becky—clean up the two youngest, Henry and Mary. The two seven-year-olds did their best to help out where they could and watched over Henry and Mary without a complaint. Once out in the fresh morning air, Maggie detected the stinging odor of smoldering wood. She walked to the west end of the lot to move the grazing cows into the small pen beside the cabin. Something was clearly abnormal this sunny, mild June morning. Maggie knew it wasn't the usual smell from the many morning fires that wafted from the other farms to the east. With the nights shorter now, most of the farmers worked longer to ready their spring crops and made bonfires to provide additional light as night fell. Thick black smoke clouds rose from the eastern frontier, and small pieces of ash were lingering in the breeze that swirled around the valley. Down the small path to the east sat several frontier farms, mostly settled by new families to America. Settlers had been enticed by prospects of owning their own land. Maggie knew of three families from her native Scotland, a few Swedish families, and a small settlement of Pennsylvania Dutch settlers within several miles of her farm. She saw most of them at the trading post but knew only a couple by name. The Swedish and Dutch settlers spoke little English, although they were always pleasant and of