Free The Ransom of Mercy Carter by Caroline B. Cooney Page B

not answer. You are English. Your name is Mercy Carter. Scorn him.”
    “Ruth, that isn’t fair,” said Sarah. “Tannhahorens owns her. She has to do as he says. Mercy, ignore Ruth.”
    Mercy had not even heard Ruth. She heard only the syllables meant to drag her, or tempt her, into another language and another life.
    Munnonock
.
    E ACH I NDIAN SLED was made of curved wood, like a shallow, flat-bottomed spoon. Along the upper rims were lacing thongs. Strung out in front of the sleds were the eager straining teams of dogs.
    For the most part, the wounded had died or were now walking on their own. Only a few had to be wrapped in furs and placed on sleds. The heaviest plunder was repacked and tied in with them: brass pots, iron pans, carpenters’ tools and fine long guns.
    The Indians decked a sled with their own furs and the stolen quilts of the English, and into the sled they tucked Eunice Williams, who was seven, a beautiful child with black hair and eyes and very rosy cheeks, and two golden-haired three-year-olds: Waitstill Warner and her cousin, Mercy’s Daniel. Eunice was in charge and she had a wonderful time. They played I See This! and they played Count the Trees.
    Waitstill could count, but it didn’t mean anything to her yet, so she just called out any number. “Four!” she shouted several times, and Eunice would say, “Four! Good for you, Waitstill!”
    Waitstill’s mother had been killed on the march. Waitstill was too little to understand, and although shehad asked often where Mother was, she was easy to distract.
    The three children spilled out if the dogs took the curves too quickly or hit a rock beneath the snow, but they weren’t very high up, so it was rolling over rather than falling off, and they just giggled while somebody ran to stop the dogs and rearrange the children.
    There were also sledges with runners. These were heavier and could carry more without spilling. These were pulled by men.
    English men.
    The children had seen their fathers on leashes, tied and led. They had seen their fathers helpless to give them food, keep them warm or even keep them alive. Now they saw their fathers attached to traces, grunting and pulling like animals.
    The mothers had no choice but to keep plodding. Rides on the sleds were never offered to them.
    The children gathered around the Indians, clamoring for the privilege of riding. Everybody wanted a chance to be warm inside the furs and wave at the others and rest from the constant march. Running boys dashed alongside, bothering the dogs and trying to hang on to the end of the sled and be towed. After a while they played ball as they marched, using snowballs and calling out which trees up ahead were the goals.
    Ebenezer Sheldon limped on. Frozen toes or not, Ebenezer never slowed down and never complained. Hewas the third English captive to be named, after Ruth and Mercy. His was an easy name to translate: Frozen Leg.
    Eunice’s Indian began teaching her to count in Mohawk, and by noon, Eunice Williams, yelling over the snow from her sled, could count from one to ten.
    So could Mercy and Eben. So, in fact, could most of the children, shouting out the numbers as they pelted each other with snowballs.
    Mercy wondered what Eunice’s father was thinking about as Eunice began singing in Mohawk. The minister had not been made to pull a sledge, nor was he carrying a load. His Boston relatives were the most important ministers in all the New World: Increase and Cotton Mather. The Mathers would pay anything to get the Williams family back. Had the Indians known ahead of time who Mr. Williams was and what he was worth?
    Mercy considered again Ruth’s idea that there was a traitor. Had somebody sold out, telling the French and Indians in which house to find the minister? That his relatives had power and money?
    More than one Indian seemed to believe he was the owner of Mr. Williams. There was a moment when Mercy thought they would divide the minister with a hatchet.