Clash of Empires
For the first week, Otetiani was content to ride along with
Orenda. Often, they lagged behind the others, lost in each other’s
company. Orenda noticed a change, though, in Otetiani, as they neared the
trading post. Otetiani seemed distant, far away in thought; at times, he
rode off alone. During one of those times when he rode ahead of the
group, Orenda sought out her father and asked him if he knew what was troubling
her husband?
Donehogawa looked at his daughter, saw the concern in her
eyes and said, “Orenda, my daughter, Otetiani is troubled by the buffalo spirit
and he is confused as he comes closer to his white family. The buffalo is
a powerful guide but it is one that makes one yearn to be free to wander our
earth mother as the buffalo does. It is also a hard thing for Otetiani
now that he has embraced the Mohawk life to face his former life. My
daughter, it is for you to ease his troubled spirit. I think it is time
to tell him of the child you carry. Do not look at me like I’m a seer who
can look in the heart of a woman to see what is there. I learned of the
child from your mother.”
Orenda smiled at her father and replied, “I should have
known that mother would tell you. I am glad I spoke to you. I feel that
you have opened my eyes. Yes, it is time to tell Otetiani about his
coming child.”
Otetiani was riding ahead of the group needing the time
alone to sort through his mind’s confusion. The thought that puzzled him the
most was whether he was Otetiani or Liam but the buffalo dream also played upon
his mind giving a rise to his normal restlessness of spirit. Glancing
back to find Orenda brought some measure of comfort but still he
struggled. He noticed that she was riding with her father and thought he
saw sadness on her face.
They made camp by a small stream. Otetiani sat with
his back to a willow tree that overlooked a small waterfall and dozed, the
buffalo dream having invaded his sleep. The moon was nearly full and was
all the light Orenda needed as she walked over to where Otetiani sat. He
awoke at the touch of her hand upon his shoulder and the sound of her voice.
“Wake up my love,” Orenda whispered in his ear, “I have
something to tell you.”
Otetiani opened his eyes, cupped his hand over the curve of
her cheek and said, “My beautiful one, I have not been myself lately. My
spirit is restless, my mind confused. I have seen sadness in your eyes
and I am sorry that I am the cause for this but I am torn about my future.”
“Oh my husband,” Orenda replied as she took his hand in
hers, “I know that you are troubled and that the buffalo dream is strong, but
know this. I will be by your side through whatever path you choose and so
will the child I bear.”
Tears flowed down Otetiani’s face and as he stood up he
noticed the swell of Orenda’s belly. “We have a child coming?” he
asked. He took her in his arms and replied, “We will raise this child as
a Mohawk.” They walked back to the campfire and settled down for the
night and soon Orenda was asleep with her head on Otetiani’s shoulder.
Otetiani, his mind playing back what he had learned, felt more peaceful than he
had in a long time and instead of the buffalo dream, he fell asleep to a vision
of a Mohawk village and children playing.
Paths to Freedom
Jimmy Two Birds had not visited
Mallory Town for a couple of years, due both to his business and to a short
illness. Once rotund, he was now much thinner, but not in a haggard way.
Indeed, he looked and felt better than he had for years. Halting his horse at
the top of the ridge, he looked down to see the children, and thought with
surprise how much they had grown. A huge smile played across his face as he
watched Thomas squatting on the ground pointing to an animal track while
apparently explaining it to Caleb and Bowie. Glancing away to Mallory Town, he
was stunned by the growth of this once-small trading post. The original walls he’d
helped build were gone, having been removed to make room for the many new
settlers finding their way west. The new walls, necessary according to Daniel
and Henry, were almost at the limit of their expansion possibilities, due to
the terrain and to the rivers at the town’s north and east edges. Farms
stretched as far as he could see on the opposite sides of both rivers. Outside
the walls stood a mill and blacksmith shop; the interior contained the new
church, general store, and many newly-built living quarters (two more under
construction). After one last glance at Thomas and his two recruits, now
undertaking their perimeter inspection, he urged his mount down the hill and
toward the gate.
Liza hugged Two Birds. “This is
a most wonderful surprise. It has been too long since you came to call. We
heard that you were ill. You look like you’ve recovered.”
“I have,” replied Two Birds
while taking a few small packages from his knapsack to hand to Liza. “Some
small tokens for the children. Are Daniel and Henry about? I bear news they
will be interested in.”
“They are across the Allegheny,
helping the Lapley’s clear boulders from a field to build a new barn,” she
said, “but I expect them back before dusk. Can you stay for supper?”
“Yes, indeed. I may be skinnier
now, but that hasn’t put a damper on my appetite,” he chuckled. “Perhaps I will
take a stroll about the town; so much is new. I see that Timothy has expanded
his brewery to include a tavern. I think I may visit there first.”
Liza laughed, “Oh yes, you must
do that, though be prepared for a possible tongue lashing if any of the
faithful see you coming out of that den of iniquity.”
“So, the good Reverend Grantham
continues to mold his followers in his own image. More’s the pity. Doesn’t that
loud-mouthed distorter of the truth realize that ale is one of the more
precious gifts the Good Lord bequeathed to mankind?”
Liza’s smile faded as she
answered, “That man is a curse on this town. I will let the menfolk know you
are about when they return.”
Crucible of Rebellion
It was shortly after the official
surrender of General Burgoyne to General Gates, Colonel Morgan being the only
member of The Curs attending, that the Colonel received new orders from General
Washington. He was pinned down in New Jersey and ordered Morgan’s regiment to join
him as quickly as possible. However, the General needed The Curs somewhere
else. They spent Christmas in Philadelphia, taking a couple of weeks to
recuperate from their various wounds, and from the plain fatigue from travel
and battle. Colonel Morgan only stayed two days before leading his regiment to
Washington’s winter camp. He provided a veritable feast for The Curs his last
night there including plenty of ale, cider and wine. Many toasts were raised
for their fallen, and for the victories they helped secure. At the end Colonel
Morgan offered one final toast, “Gentlemen, I’m not usually given to
sentimentality, but in this case it is warranted for two reasons. In all my
years of leading men in battle, this group is the best I’ve ever had the honor
to serve with. So, parting ways leaves a large hole in my command. But, and
this is not to be spoken of outside this room, there will be some changes in
command soon, and changes in strategy. However, I have been passed over again
for promotion to General by those imbeciles in The Continental Congress, and I
will be resigning from the army.”
A Nation
is Born
Early February 1779 When Daniel,
Matt, and Bert set out from Buffalo Meadow, they knew that traveling in
February was fraught with difficulties. They beached their canoe and walked
into the village of Vincennes. Word had come to them, from their Piankashaw
friend and neighbor Waban, that George Rogers Clark, and an army of volunteers
was making a forced march to retake Fort Sackville from the British, but they
were uncertain of the route Clark was taking. For the most part, the residents
of the village sided with the rebels even though it was the British who now
held Fort Sackville after Governor Henry Hamilton marched from Fort Detroit to
take the fort from the rebel garrison there. As the majority of the villagers
were French, the anti-British feeling ran high. Vincennes was founded in 1732
by French fur traders who once held sway all the way to St. Louis on the
Mississippi. The descendants were in the mood for a little payback. Waban, who
spoke French as well as English, negotiated with a French stable owner for the
use of four horses. They were now slogging their way through knee high snow
melted water that covered the vast grassy plain, a process that had Daniel
grousing, “I keep telling myself, and others, that I’m too old for this.”
And
another snippet:
The tall grass swayed in the
breeze, feeding birds clinging to the stalks, as the trio made their way the
next morning. The rising sun was soon over ruled by dark clouds, and as the
breeze became stronger the rain began. A flash of lightning in the distance
followed a few seconds later by a rumbling thunder startled Abner’s mount. “I
think,” hollered Jack over the noise of wind and rain, “we should dismount and
lead the horses until this blows over.”
Hosagowwa raised his hand in
acknowledgement. After he dismounted he helped calm Abner’s horse, taking the
reins of the packhorse from him. “I’ll take the pack horse for now,” he said,
“just keep talking low and soothing to yours; she’ll be fine.”
The storm raged for hours
pelting them incessantly with wind driven rain. The occasional lightning strike
that hit too close would alarm the horses, making hard work for the riders to
calm them while avoiding the flailing hooves. When Jack took a glancing kick to
his shin he turned to Hosagowwa, “We need to lay up somewhere. You see any
mounds or hills holler out; we’ll try to get out of some of the wind anyway.”
They struggled on for another
two miles when Jack halted. He was on a rise looking at a valley set between
the hills, “Down there,” he pointed, “We can shelter there.”
Hosagowwa came up, and looked at
the valley below. A flash of lightning in the distance caught his attention.
“Jack, did you see that flash?”
“I did,” Jack replied, “I see
safety among our enemies. Time to trust the vision my friend.”
A Turbulent Beginning
Winter dragged on, the
bone-chilling cold, and frequent snowfall kept most everyone inside for days on
end. The exceptions on this particular day were Bert, and the visitor he was
bringing from Vincennes. Major Hamtramck was wrapped head to toe in a buffalo
robe, a woolen scarf covering his face with only his eyes visible. He shrugged
off the heavy coat, handing it to Deborah, “Pardon madam,” he said, “for this
surprise visit. When I heard that Bert was heading here, I had to jump at the
chance to see all of you again.”
“Not at all major,” said
Deborah, “It is a wonderful surprise. We did not know you were back in this
neck of the woods. Are you taking command at the fort?”
He took a mug of hot mulled
cider from Hannah, “Merci,” he said, “No Deborah, I am here on a special
mission for the War Secretary, Henry Knox. I’m also here on a more unofficial
mission. I have a friend, William Wells, he’s also known as Apekonit, the adopted
son of Little Turtle, who wants help locating, and retrieving the women and
children taken in that raid on the Wea village. I’m afraid I may need the use
of your son Bo and the others once again.”
“Might be good for them to have
something to do,” Daniel said as he came in, “those boys have cabin fever bad.
This stretch of weather is the worst I can remember. It’s even worse than 77.”
“Hah, no argument from me,”
replied Hamtramck, “Valley Forge was not pleasant that winter. I was a lowly
Lieutenant then, not high enough in the pecking order for a cabin without holes
in the walls.”
“Well,” said Deborah, “make
your-self at home. We’ll find a volunteer to make the rounds and gather
everyone for supper tonight.”
Bert came in, though, like the
major, it was hard to tell who it was underneath the coat and scarf. “I don’t
like assumptions, but I assumed anyway, that we are having supper with the
major, so I let The Curs know. I also assumed that since I have a letter from
Two Birds, you would want to read it after supper while we’re settled around a
roaring fire with some of the major’s cognac”
The Jagged Mountains
I hear the howling of the wind
coming through the divide, rattling the shutters on our longhouse windows. I’ve
always had a good feel for what month it is, so I know it is sometime in April,
but it may as well be January up this high. My friends down on the flat have
been pestering me for years to come down from our lofty perch in the glacier
covered mountains overlooking the vast prairie-grassland to the east, but as
long as I can still look after myself, what’s the point? I’ve lived on the
flat, and I’ve lived in the mountains. I prefer the mountains. It has been near
to 25 years since I left civilization behind. I grew up in a frontier town on
the Allegheny in Pennsylvania. I have been to the big cities on the Atlantic
coast; New York, Philadelphia, Boston. I’ve helped slaves escape from a small
village on the Congaree River in South Carolina. I have friended and have been
befriended in return by Shawnee, Mandan, Kiowa, Lakota, Mohawk, Crow, Shoshone,
and Nez Perce to name a few of the many tribes I have encountered in my
travels.
As I look back on what I just
wrote, I fear I may have given the impression that 1. I am an old man, and 2. I
am a grumpy old man to boot. While the first is certainly true, having reached
the age of 45, the grumpiness is only an occasional trait.
Weathering the Storm
The side of beef was roasting
on a spit over one fire; a haunch of venison on another. Warriors, being led by
Tenskwatawa, were dancing around a third fire where Glen and Ethan sat with
Tecumseh. When the dancers neared the dramatic finish, Tenskwatawa gestured for
Glen to join them. While the women ululated, Shabbona painted Glen’s face
matching the pattern given to a new member of the tribe. Not knowing what he
was doing, he just mimicked the other dancers soon getting the hang of it;
letting loose an occasional howl.
Ethan laughed, “Does this mean
Glen has been adopted by the Shawnee?”
“Yes,” Tecumseh replied with a
loud guffaw, “Seems we have lowered our standards.” Turning serious he
continued, “I have had a lot of time to think and pray. I know my destiny lies
with the British despite their wavering support.” Sighing he continued, “I had
a dream. I was lying in a field near a river watching the scudding clouds. They
were formed like battalions of soldiers and were being blown toward a lesser
bank of clouds. It was evident that the small clouds would be overcome. When
that happened I heard thunder; saw lightning powering over their foes. When the
scene cleared I saw many Indians lying next to me on that field. I saw my
death.”
Ethan thought for a moment
before speaking, “I know you too well to scoff at your dream, but not all
dreams tell the future. I also know you well enough to know that you will not
let that dream rule your actions or your plans. I would suggest that you stay
here for the winter; get yourself back in fighting shape before heading to the
British.” He shook his head, “Hannah is going to have a fit, but when you leave
to join them, I will go with you.”
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Mallory Saga 