The Guardian

Chapter 1

~Near Philadelphia, Pennsylvania – 1773~

Jack dropped the horse's reins and slid quietly from his saddle. He removed his bow from its case and moved slyly through the brush. The sun was just rising, though he had been awake for hours. His unsuspecting prey was in sight. Dinner would be venison today. If he could come across some salt for it, he would be in heaven. He slid through the tall grass as he stalked close to his prey and notched an arrow, preparing to shoot.

Jack cursed as his meal spooked and bolted into the forest. The thunder of horse hooves approaching surprised him, as well, and he crouched down to avoid detection. He glanced over to where his horse was grazing far off the trail now. The stallion did not appear fazed by the approaching animals.

A cloaked rider astride a white mare was moving at a dangerous speed through the forest. Four riders were in close pursuit. A pistol roared and the bullet struck the mare's flank, causing her to stumble and bring her rider tumbling down. The cry of fear and surprise that rang out was a woman's. Without a thought, the concentration that Jack had previously focused on the deer was trained on the chasers closest to him. The bandits dismounted and viciously yanked the girl to her feet. The hood of her cloak remained covering her face.

Only cowards attacked a woman, and so, without needing to aim, Jack drew and loosed in one motion. The arrow pierced its target right through the heart. The woman screamed and the other three men scrambled to find their attacker. Notching another arrow, he crouched low and moved quickly through the brush with stealth learned from his Shawnee surrogate family. The next arrow passed by the man holding the woman and found its mark through the stomach of the second attacker. 

Jack was soon only a few yards away, too close for arrows or a musket now, so he dropped the bow and drew his knife and tomahawk. 

"This is no business of yours, bumpkin." 

"Where I am from, striking a lady is a grave crime," Jack seethed, circling the outlaw as the fourth one held tight to the girl in question. "What is more, it is cowardice. Fight someone equal to you, if you dare." 

The man was probably no more than a common thug; all bluster, no substance. He drew his sword and made to close with Jack. Jack's arm quickly swung up and then forward. The tomahawk flashed across the distance and buried its edge in the center of the brigand's forehead, dropping him like a felled tree. Walking smoothly over to the corpse, Jack jerked the weapon free and turned to the last pursuer.

The final scoundrel pushed the woman aside. Her hood fell away, revealing long hair the color of chestnuts. She clutched her stomach but did not look up.

"She belongs to Lord Rogan," her would-be abductor announced, drawing his sword.

Jack and the last bandit began to circle each other. "It appears she does not wish to belong to Lord Rogan," Jack replied pleasantly. He knew nothing of this Lord Rogan; only that he was about to crush the man's plans.

"She has something he wants," the bandit hissed. He was missing quite a few teeth.

"The property is nothing to me; only the girl's safety is my concern."

"She is of no consequence to you."

"Wrong."

Jack couldn't say why his current opponent was wrong. While he had not seen the girl's face, he was reasonably sure he didn't know her. Jack didn't know anyone in this region and would certainly remember hair that looked as hers did.