Twin Willows: A Novel (23 page)

Despite her warm robe and the heat emanating from the fire, Anna shivered. She realized she was fortunate to be so well treated, but no matter how good the chief was to her, he was not her father, this place was not her home, and—most important of all—her captor and the other warriors were not Stuart Martin.

Among the villagers who had taken an especially keen interest in the adoption ceremony were Gray Fawn and her eldest daughter. Before Stretching Cat took her place among the dancers, she and her mother speculated about the ritual’s meaning.

Stretching Cat quoted the village talk. “It is said that Black Snake has word that Bear’s Daughter and Willow are dead. He takes this one who looks like the girl in her place.”

Gray Fawn shook her head. “But did not Sits-in-Shadow himself believe that the
Shemanese
put an evil spirit in Willow and sent her back as this An-na? I do not trust this girl.”

“Black Snake must soon make a match for her,” she predicted.

As Anna had suspected he might, the chief came back to his own
wegiwa
the day after the feast. Blossom and Anna moved their beds to the lodge’s most distant corner, an area screened from the rest of the dwelling by several blankets hung from the lodge-poles. Otherwise, Anna’s adoption hadn’t seemed to change anything. Blossom still shadowed her, and Anna knew that everywhere she went, she was watched closely.

At least this way, my captor has to keep his distance
, Anna thought. Once when the girl’s attention was diverted elsewhere, he had crept up behind Anna and grabbed her. Pinning her arms behind her, he had kissed her roughly and pressed himself against her before he let her go. He made a sign with his hands, which she did not understand, and ran away before anyone else saw him. After that, Anna was grateful that she was not left alone.

A few days after her adoption, Anna looked up from grinding corn to see a horseman entering the village. She shaded her eyes and stared as he walked his horse to the council lodge and dismounted. The short and somewhat stocky newcomer wore a standard linen hunting shirt with fringed buckskin trousers, and appeared to be in his middle years. But it was the color of his skin that drew Anna’s excited attention. Tanned and leathery from exposure to the sun though it was, the man’s skin was unmistakably
Shemanese
.

The word came instantly to Anna’s mind.
I must have learned more from the people of Waccachalla than I knew, to think of him in that way
. Nevertheless, this was the first white man she’d seen since being taken from Kentucky, and she could scarcely wait to speak to him.

Anna dropped her grinding stone and started toward the council lodge, but she was quickly stayed by Blossom’s restraining hand.

“
Mat-tah
, An-na.”

Anna pointed to herself, then gestured toward the council lodge “I would see the
Shemanese
,” she said.

Blossom shook her head and indicated the sky, then moved her hand to suggest the movement of the sun. She pointed to Anna, touched her own lips, then gestured toward the council lodge. Understanding that she could not interrupt the chief’s talk with the
Shemanese
, Anna returned to her corn-grinding. As she worked, she allowed herself a cautious glimmer of hope. Even if this man didn’t already know her father, perhaps she could persuade him to take a message to Bryan’s Station.

At last the white man came out of the council lodge, accompanied by Black Snake. When Anna saw them heading toward her, she made herself continue working until Blossom motioned for her to stand.

Black Snake pointed to her. “
Nee dah-nai-tha
An-na,” he said.

Up close, Anna saw that the white man’s clean-shaven face bore deep smallpox scars, and the way his small, dark eyes stared at her made her uncomfortable.

The man spoke in a broad dialect that Anna recognized as British. “Yer father ’ere tells me ye speak English.”

Anna nodded. “Yes, but my actual father is Colonel Ian McKnight, of Bryan’s Station. One of the warriors kidnapped me from there.”

“Colonel McKnight in Kentucky? Must be one of them rebel squatters. Since ye don’t look all white, I reckon some squaw must of birthed ye.”

The man’s insolent tone and manner made Anna clench her fists, but she needed him too much to show her anger. Instead, Anna lifted her chin and spoke proudly. “My mother, Colonel McKnight’s wife, was Delaware.”

The man rubbed his chin and grinned as if he found her statement amusing. “Well, that ain’t much ’elp ’ere in Shawnee country.”

Anna struggled for a moment with the biblical adage that a soft answer turneth away wrath before she spoke again. “You have the advantage, sir. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

The man grinned again and made a rough bow. “Sorry. I never ’ad much manners to begin with, and livin’ out ’ere amongst the savages has took away what I ’ad. Name’s Edward Tucker, late of His Royal Majesty King George the Third’s army.”

Her heart sank as she realized that this same man could very well have been among the Redcoats that took the Indians’ part against the people of Bryan’s Station. Even so, she had to ask for his help.

Anna bobbed her head stiffly. “I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Tucker. I’d appreciate it if you would explain to the chief that I need to go back to Kentucky.”

Edward Tucker threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Oooh, that’s a good ’un, that is!”

Anna disliked this man more each moment, but she forced herself to speak calmly. “I don’t think it’s at all strange that I should want to go home. Perhaps if you’d just tell him—”

Edward Tucker made the cutoff sign. “No. The chief did ye a great thing by makin’ ye Shawnee. Far’s ’e’s concerned, this is now yer ’ome.”

It was what Anna had feared, but she wasn’t yet ready to accept its finality.

“Please tell the chief that I appreciate the honor he has given me, but I must return to my father in Kentucky.”

Edward Tucker laughed without humor. “Ye don’t yet understand, do ye? The chief spared yer life, yet now ye beg t’ be scalped.”

Anna glanced past Edward Tucker to the chief. He watched them talking with his arms crossed on his chest, his expression impassive.

“The chief will not kill me.” Anna’s tone was far less certain than her words, a fact that Edward Tucker quickly noted.

He lowered his voice and leaned toward her. “Ye don’t know these people like I do, missy. The chief’ as made ye ’is daughter. He’ll not now let ye go.”

Anna nodded that she understood. “All right. Don’t tell the chief that I want to leave. But please find my father and tell him I’m all right.”

Tucker frowned and shook his head. “I ain’t ’zackly welcome acrost th’ Ohio these days. I ain’t about ter risk my neck fer nothin’.”

For the promise of reward, this man can be persuaded to help me
. Anna acted upon her insight at once.

“My father will make it well worth your while.”

“An’ ’ow do I know ’e’s got the means? ’Tis well known that most Kentucky settlers ain’t got one coin to rub agin’ another.”

His mention of coins reminded Anna of her own store. “I don’t know how much hard money my father has, but I have several gold coins. You’ll find them sewn into the bodice of a petticoat in my saddlebags in the lean-to of his cabin at Bryan’s Station.”

Edward Tucker looked doubtful. “Ye can’t be sure it’s still there.”

“No one else knows of it. You can tell my father I said to give you that over and above whatever he might offer you.”

“What else d’ ye want me ter say?”

Anna felt a sense of relief.
He’s greedy enough to do it
, she thought. “Just tell him that I’m safe and living in Waccachalla.”

Edward Tucker sneered. “I s’pose ye think ’e’ll come a-ridin’ up ter git ye then?”

“What if he does?”

Tucker spoke with slow deliberation. “Missy, the minute any white man crosses the Ohio these days, ’e’s as good as dead.”

Anna didn’t flinch. “By your hand, Mr. Tucker?”

The man spread his hands and shrugged. “Not me, missy. Bygones is bygones, and sleepin’ dogs ort to be left to lie. I’ve nothin’ personal agin any man who took arms agin th’ Crown, myself. But things is in a flutter these days. Many warriors are lookin’ t’ lift a few scalps afore the winter sets in an’ keeps ’em ter home. Yer father wouldn’t ’ave a chance.”

“Then when you see him, you may also add that warning,” Anna said.

The man looked at her with grudging admiration. “I reckon ole chief got more’n ’e bargained fer when ’e took ye in.”

“Find my father, Mr. Tucker. You’ll be paid well for your trouble.”

“Ye say ’e’s at Bryan’s Station?”

“Yes. Do you know the place?”

Edward Tucker looked amused. “I reckon ye might say as how I do. Now ye’d better think o’ somethin’ fer me ter tell the chief that we’ve been parleyin’ about.”

They both glanced at Chief Black Snake, who seemed impatient for their conversation to end.

“Tell him that I thank him for his kindness to me.”

Tucker turned to address Black Snake, speaking with many gestures.

The chief’s expression didn’t change, but he glanced at Anna and nodded almost imperceptibly. When Edward Tucker finished, Black Snake spoke briefly, then bade Tucker farewell and returned, alone, to the council lodge.

“What did he say?” Anna asked.

“’E’s glad ye like bein’ his daughter.”

“That’s not what I said,” Anna protested, then checked herself. “But I’m sure it was what he wants to hear. Now, about my father—”

“I’ll think on it, but ’tis a long way to go fer nothin’. If I go an’ don’ git what it’s worth, ye’ll both be sorry.”

With that vague threat, Edward Tucker left her. Anna brought her clasped hands to her chin as she watched him mount his horse and ride away. She well knew she probably couldn’t trust this man and shouldn’t allow herself too much hope. But he could be the key that would free her to return to Bryan’s Station.

S
CIOTO
T
RAIL

During the years he had lived among the Indians, Ian McKnight had learned many things that had stood him in good stead during his army days. From Indians Ian learned to travel light, live off the land, and depend only on himself. He could also blaze a trail for himself and track one made by others. When he and James Craig had ridden out of Bryan’s Station in search of Anna, Ian had felt fairly confident in his ability to find her. True, it had been some time since she’d been taken, and it had been many years since his last sojourn in Indian territory. However, Ian had never forgotten the skills he’d learned there, nor the friends who had taught them to him. Now, riding north alone, he knew he would need all his skill—and a bit of luck, as well—to find and bring Anna home.

The weather had been unusually dry for several weeks, and when he reached his favorite fording place, he was thankful for the relatively low level of the Ohio River. His horse had to swim through the middle part of the channel, and Ian held his rifle, powder horn, and saddlebags at waist level. Even at that, it was a much easier crossing than some he’d made.
I hope that bodes well for the rest of my journey
, he thought.

Once he gained the north bank, Ian stopped to press as much water from his clothing as he could. He had worn his old moccasin packs; not only were they more comfortable than boots, but his tracks would scarcely be detectable. In the old days, Ian would have made a fire and dried himself thoroughly before continuing to travel, but now he dared not risk it. Sitting in the sun, he chewed on a pull of jerky and drank from his leather water bag. Although he remained alert for any indication that someone else might be near, he heard only the usual forest sounds.

Still, when he started out again, Ian stayed well away from the Indian trails that crisscrossed the area. Traveling northeast, he would eventually reach the village where he and Silverwillow had lived. Ian had heard that many Delaware had been killed and some of their towns had been destroyed, but he also knew that the Lenni-Lenape loved their land. No matter what happened, they always returned to the places that meant much to them. His old friends would know how to find Anna Willow; it might take some time and patience, but eventually he would find his daughter.

The rain, usual for that time of the year, began that night and continued for the next two days. Sleeping on the wet ground made Ian’s joints ache, brought on a head cold, and reminded him that he wasn’t the young man that he’d been when first he first came to the Ohio. Only once did he risk a fire, then had to flee a hunting party of Shawnee who spotted it and came to investigate. His escape took him far out of his way, and more than once he feared he might be lost.

Another time Ian stopped to drink from a clear stream, and a wild boar charged out of the woods and frightened away his horse. He spent several precious hours finding the animal. The search for food also slowed him. Although he had eaten sparingly, eventually all the food he’d brought was gone, and he had to stop to gather acorns and other nuts and edible grasses. He also managed to catch a few small fish using only his bare hands, but afraid to build another fire, he ate them raw.

Finally he reached the forks of the Muskingum and stood in the middle of what had been Silverwillow’s home. However difficult the journey had been to that point, this was Ian’s worst moment. The only remnant of the once prosperous village was its charred firestone. Ian had told Anna that he feared such a thing; and now he knew that it had, indeed, come to pass.

No one lives here now
. The realization came with the force of a blow.
There is none left to help me
.

Ian rested for a long time as he considered his next move. He could continue on his rounds of the old Delaware villages, but from the destruction here, Ian knew it was unlikely that he’d find anyone to help him. There was still one other possibility, however. Years ago, Ian had traded with Shawnees in one of the three towns called Chillicothe, the one nearest the Scioto Trail.

Perhaps someone there will remember me, or at least be willing to hear me out
.

Ian knew he was taking a great chance to ask help from a people who seldom showed mercy, even to their own, and who might even be among the very ones that had attacked Bryan’s Station and taken Anna away. But he had come to the Ohio Territory to find Anna Willow, and he would not cross the Ohio again without her.

In the center of the ruined village where he had lived with Silverwillow, Ian vowed again to find their daughter.

His heart heavy with sorrow for what had come to pass in this place, he cast one last look around the ruins before he mounted his horse and headed southwest, toward Chillicothe. Already he felt that he had been traveling forever—he had lost all count of how many days had passed since he’d left Bryan’s Station. The destruction he’d seen thus far in Indian country saddened him, and he feared for his newfound daughter Willow, that she might insist on returning to such an uncertain life.

At least she and Rebecca are safe and together
. Ian took some comfort in that thought.