Eyes of Eagles (3 page)

Jamie stole a furtive look around him. No one appeared to be watching them, but that was something he could not be sure of. For Little Wolf had a tight circle of friends and Jamie knew one of those friends was constantly watching, usually from hiding. Jamie spotted his watcher. A big hulking boy called Bad Leg because one leg was shorter than the other. Bad Leg disliked Jamie as much as Little Wolf did. Although Jamie had never done anything to warrant that dislike. Little Wolf and his gang tormented Jamie whenever they found him alone and outside the lodge, for they knew that no matter what they did to him, Jamie would never tattle on them to Tall Bull or Deer Woman. Consequently, they did their best to make life miserable for White Hair. Why that name remained was a mystery for Jamie, since Deer Woman regularly put plant dye on his hair to darken the blond.

“I see him, too,” Hannah said, resting her back for a moment from the gathering of firewood in the fields and cutting her eyes to where Bad Leg was hiding behind a tree. “He is an evil boy, Jamie. And wicked because the other children used to taunt him when he was little — so I am told. Although I don't believe the parents would have permitted very much of that. Indians are very strict about that sort of thing.”

“Hannah? Is Little Wolf white?”

“That is a question you must never ask, Jamie. Not to any Shawnee. I believe he is, yes. Or at least has some white blood in him. And no, I don't know the story as to how he came here. I know only that he is adopted. Deer Woman is barren.”

“Oh, I know not to ask Tall Bull or Deer Woman. The worst beating I ever had came after I asked her about Little Wolf.”

A woman screeched out for them to stop chattering and to get back to work.

It was the winter of Jamie's second year in the Shawnee town.

* * *

The thought of escaping was never far from Jamie's mind, awake or sleeping. He dreamed of seeing his own kind once more. Of having some candy, like a peppermint stick or a piece of johnnycake or a thick wedge of apple pie or some of his mother's sugar cookies. Home-baked bread all dripping with fresh-churned butter and a glass of cool milk from the well.

But he never let on that he was unhappy. By the end of his second year of captivity, Jamie was allowed to roam unescorted from the village for several miles in any direction. He made snares and caught rabbits, always bringing them back to the lodge and skinning and cleaning them before handing them to Deer Woman to add to the stew or to cook over an open fire on a wooden spit. She always told him what a good boy he was.

But she never told him that when Little Wolf was around. She knew that her adopted son hated White Hair and knew only too well that her husband still did not fully trust the white boy. But that distrust was tempering as the months went by. The turning point came one early spring, when Jamie was very late in returning from a foray into the deep woods, and Little Wolf was urging his father to let him find and kill White Hair. Tall Bull had told his son — over the protestations of Deer Woman — to go, find his friends, and wait.

“He is gone, Woman,” Tall Bull told her. “I suspect he hid food in the woods in preparation for this day. I made a mistake. I should have killed him.”

“The boy will return,” Deer Woman insisted. “Give him time. I know he will return.”

“It is nearly dark. You are a fool!”

A shout came from a sentry by the log wall of the Shawnee town and everyone came running. Tall Bull and Deer Woman watched the small figure come slowly walking out of the woods, dragging a travois. All could see the doe on the travois. And it was a good-size doe, too.

Deer Woman looked up at Tall Bull. Her husband sighed but made no other comment. He knew better.

The villagers watched as Jamie dragged the heavy load in through the open gates. All could see that the boy was nearly exhausted. But he would not ask for help.

Jamie stopped and looked at all the people gathered around. “Did something important happen while I was gone?” he asked.

“We were worried about you,” Deer Woman said quickly. “That is such a fine deer. Where did you get the bow and arrows, White Hair?”

Jamie's bow and quiver of arrows lay on the travois. He had decided to test his status with the tribe. “I made them,” he said. “I've been practicing in the meadow beyond the trees. There!” He pointed.

Tall Bull walked to Jamie's side, his eyes taking in the load which was far too heavy for Jamie, even though he was growing rapidly and was big and strong for his age. “It is a good deer,” he said. He first picked up the bow and carefully inspected it. He grunted with satisfaction. “You
made
this, White Hair? How?”

“By watching you,” Jamie said. “Everybody says you make the best bows in the town, so who better to watch?”

Deer Woman hid her smile. White Hair certainly knew how to play the right song with Tall Bull, she thought.

Tall Bull grunted, but he was obviously pleased. He took out each arrow and looked it over. “Good,” he finally said. “You do good work. I told Deer Woman you would be a good hunter. I knew that all along.”

Deer Woman rolled her eyes.

Little Wolf and his friends had gathered, all looking at the deer on the travois. None of them had ever killed a deer that size when they were so young.

Tall Bull's eyes saw the blood on Jamie's shirt and unlaced the front. There was a deep gouge on the boy's chest. “What is this?”

“Some wolves wanted the deer. I faced them down and one accidentally scratched me.”

“You . . . faced down wolves?” Tall Bull said. Then he leaned closer and sniffed Jamie's clothing. No doubt about it. The boy was telling the truth. He smelled like a wolfs den.

“Yes, sir. Well...” Jamie smiled. “They weren't very big wolves. There were only two of them. I think they were young.”

A woman came over, uninvited, and bathed the scratch. Then she applied some ointment and smiled at him before turning and rejoining the crowd.

“He's lying!” Little Wolf said.

“No,” Tall Bull said. “He is not lying. What color were these wolves?”

“One was black and the other gray,” Jamie said.

“I have seen them,” a man spoke. “The little one speaks truth.”

“I knew all along he would be a great hunter,” Tall Bull said. “I knew I was right in sparing him.”

Deer Woman again rolled her eyes.

“I will skin the deer and scrape the hide,” Jamie said. “Then I shall...”

“That is woman's work!” Tall Bull said sharply, and Deer Woman gasped and put a hand to her breast. “Not work for a man. Tomorrow you start training to be a warrior.” There were sudden tears in Deer Woman's eyes. “Little Wolf, help your brother with his load. You will want some of the meat to fill your belly, I'm sure, so work for it.”

“My
what?”
Little Wolf screamed the words. “What did you say?”

That got him a clout on the side of the head from his father. “Never speak to me in that tone!” Tall Bull told his son. “Never again. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, father,” Little Wolf said humbly, and sincerely, for he held his father in great respect.

“Hear me!” Tall Bull shouted. He turned in all directions and spoke the words to the north, south, east, and west. And the Shawnees crowded closer. “White Hair is no more. Never speak the name again.” He put a hand on Jamie's shoulder. “From this moment forward, this boy is my son and he shall be called Man Who Is Not Afraid. He is my son. Insult him, and you insult me.” He ruffled Jamie's hair. “Let us go to the lodge, son. Tomorrow will be a full day.”

Jamie did not sleep on the floor that night. He had his own raised platform and his own new robes, not the hand-me-down and worn skins he had been using.

Just before he fell into a deep and heavy sleep, for they had all gorged themselves that night on meat, Jamie thought about his encounter with the wolves. They had been hungry, that was evident, and before Jamie left he did throw them some scraps and entrails. But when he faced the pair, curiously, he had not been afraid. He had faced bigger dogs before, and he had often heard his father say that wolves will leave you alone if you leave them alone. His father had said that he had never heard of a wolf just up and attacking a human being. There had to be a reason. Maybe that's why Jamie had not been afraid this day.

But he had taken an awful chance by killing the deer and exposing the fact that he now had weapons. Hannah had tried to talk him out of doing it, telling him that she had seen captives killed for doing just what Jamie planned. But Jamie could not be dissuaded. He was determined to better his status with the tribe. The more freedom he could have, the better his chances would be for escape.

Just as soon as he knew exactly where he was, that is.

Jamie had thought of hiding clothes out in the woods, but he was growing so fast that when the time came the clothes would not fit him. He gave up that idea.

As sleep took him, he thought, one step closer. One step closer.

Jamie's life changed drastically from that day on. He was permitted now to play games with the other boys and he quickly made friends with most of the boys his own age. And by listening to them talk, discovered that he was south of the Ohio River. South? If that was so, he was several hundred miles from where he'd been born.

But the faces of those in the village near his cabin had faded in his mind. He couldn't even really remember what his best friend, Robert, looked like. He wondered if the Shawnee raiding party that night had killed Robert and his family, too? And how many others?

Jamie made up his mind. He would not attempt to return to the area where he used to live. What would be the point? He had no family left. He would listen to the older people of the tribe talk, and more importantly, warriors who had returned from recent raids, and try to find out where the nearest town was. He would listen carefully, and memorize any landmarks they might mention. He had to know for certain how to get to the Ohio River. For once there, he could make it to freedom. He just knew he could.

His days were busy ones now, for Tall Bull began his instructions on the art of being a Shawnee warrior. Jamie was very young for this harsh and uncompromising study, but Tall Bull puffed with pride when he was with the boy. How many men could say they had a son who, no more than a child, could kill a deer that weighed double the boy's weight and drag it home? How many men could boast that their son had faced down wolves, and won? And Tall Bull also kept picking away at any scab that grew over the wound on Jamie's chest so that a scar would remain forever.

“People will always want to see the scar where you battled wolves and won,” he told Jamie. “It is something to be proud of.”

Jamie had stopped trying to tell Tall Bull that he had received the slight wound quite by accident. The black wolf had been afraid of him and had lost its balance and fell over on his back. Kicking out with its legs, one paw had struck Jamie, ripping his shirt and scratching his flesh.

Jamie had yelled in pain and the wolves had become frightened and ran back about fifty yards. It was no major thing to Jamie. Actually, he'd felt sorry for the hungry animals, for it had been a hard winter. But he sure wasn't going to argue with Tall Bull about it.

Jamie took to the bow as if he had been born to it. Tall Bull made him a much better bow than the one Jamie had made, and before the summer was over, he was the best shot in the Shawnee town, for his age group, and even better than some of the men, which did not set well at all with those warriors. Jamie could read the looks on their faces, but none vocalized their unhappiness. To do so would incur the wrath of Tall Bull, and none among them wanted that.

By the time Jamie was ten, he was very tall for his age and very strong. He could run and jump and wrestle with the best of the boys. As a hunter, he had no equal among his age group and even those several years older. He brought back to the lodge more than his share of game.

The hatred that Little Wolf felt for him had deepened, but only Little Wolf, his band of friends, and Jamie knew that. Inside the lodge, it was all brotherly love and good feelings. Deer Woman suspected that all was not wonderful, but she maintained her silence concerning her suspicions. Tall Bull did not have a clue. He knew only that he had two fine sons and he was proud of both of them.

By the time Jamie was eleven, he looked and behaved as a boy much older than his years. Even Little Wolf, who was about nineteen — no one knew for sure — was more than a little wary of the boy called Man Who Is Not Afraid. He and Bad Leg talked often, and secretly, of how best to get rid of Jamie, but so far it was all talk and no action.

Jamie and Hannah were doing some secret talking, too. A particularly cruel and quite ugly Shawnee had taken Hannah as his wife, and she was miserable.

“It's time, Hannah,” Jamie told her as she worked one afternoon.

She paused only for a second, and then resumed her berry picking.

“You have a plan?”

“Yes. But it's a dangerous one. We might be putting ourselves in more peril.”

“I have to get away from Big Head. I think he might kill me soon.”

“Meet me in the woods at noon tomorrow. By the blow-down. I have food and robes hidden there. Also a pistol I stole from the possessions of Sour Belly before they buried him. We're escaping, Hannah. We're going to be free.”

She cut her eyes to this boy — really just a child. But Jamie had left his childhood far behind him. He was serious, seldom smiling. Much more man than boy. And she felt sorry about that. For Jamie, the joys of being a child had been ripped cruelly from him, leaving a deep scar that nothing would ever erase.

“Jamie, you know what will happen to us if we are found.”

“We will be tortured to death. I know. I've seen it. We both have.”

“I'll meet you in the blow-down at noon tomorrow. I would prefer death over my life as it is now.”

The boy called Man Who Is Not Afraid met her eyes for a moment. “I will not let them take you alive, Hannah. That is why I stole the pistol. I will kill you first.”

“I hope you mean that, Jamie.”

“I do.”

* * *

“I will bring back a buck for you, Mother,” Jamie told Deer Woman the next morning. “One that you can make me a fine shirt and leggings from.”

She looked at him and smiled.

“I shall go with you,” Little Wolf said.

“I need you here,” Deer Woman said quickly.

“Why?” Tall Bull demanded.

“To fix the panels on the smoke holes.” She pointed upward toward the ceiling.

Tall Bull grunted. “You were to have repaired them last week, Little Wolf. I am becoming weary of your laziness. Stay here at the lodge and do what your mother asks you to do. I must go to a council meeting. Good hunting, son,” he said to Jamie with a smile.

Little Wolf left moments after his father, grumbling and complaining.

Jamie picked up his bow, quiver of arrows, and secured his knife.

“Man Who Is Not Afraid?” Deer Woman said.

Jamie turned. He was now as tall as Deer Woman.

She put a hand to his face and touched him gently, then ruffled his dyed brown hair. “I knew this day would come. You are not Shawnee and never will be. Head south toward the tall mountains, to the Cherokees. They will see that you and Quiet Woman get back to your people. Do not reply to my words. Just go, my son. But go with this knowledge; someday Tall Bull and Little Wolf will find you. That will be the day when you must decide whether you live or die. And whether you will, or can, kill your father and brother. Goodbye, son.”

She turned her back to him and Jamie knew, with that gesture, she was forever cutting the Indian ties to him.

Jamie stepped out of the lodge and did not look back.

He walked away with all the dignity an eleven-year-old can muster, and that is about on a par with the Queen of England. And it does not matter whether the eleven-year-old is a so-called uneducated savage or the son or daughter of a royal family.

Very few in the Shawnee town paid Jamie any attention as he walked out of the enclosed village and headed in the opposite direction of the blow-down in the timber. Where Hannah was waiting. Bad Leg watched him leave, however, and noted Man Who Is Not Afraid was heading north.

“He'll probably kill a bear and there will be singing and dancing and more praising of him,” Bad Leg muttered sourly. “I hate him.”

Deer Woman busied herself in the lodge. She had grown to love the white-haired boy, much more so than Little Wolf, who she suspected was not quite right in the head. There was something very dark and twisted about Little Wolf.

When Jamie was in the deep timber, certain he could not be spotted from the town, he changed directions and began running. He ran at a steady, distance-eating lope and was not even winded when he reached the blow-down.

“Here!” Hannah called, standing up amid a jumble of brush and old fallen logs.

“Follow me!” Jamie said, and took off at a trot, slowing his pace so Hannah would be able to keep up.

He jogged along for another five minutes before reaching the spot where he'd been caching supplies. While Hannah rested, Jamie removed the supplies from the hiding place and then carefully concealed the spot.

Jamie said, “Follow me, Hannah. Put your feet where I put mine. Do not break off any twigs or bruise any leaves. Do not step in any mud or soft ground. I think they will first search to the north. But they will, in time, find our trail. Of that, I am certain. Probably by this time tomorrow. There is a small river that flows south about a day's run from here. Once we reach that, we will enter the river and cling to logs for a time and let the current take us...”

“There are great scaly creatures in the waters!” Hannah said, very much afraid. She had heard talk of the huge alligators that slid through the dark waters of the creeks. Huge beasts that preyed on humans and animals alike.

“No,” Jamie assured her. “Those are to the south and east of here. Nearer the big waters. The old men say they used to be here. But no more. Let's go, Hannah. We're running for our lives.”

“And freedom,” Hannah said, adjusting the straps to her pack.

“Yes,” the boy/man said. “And freedom.”

* * *

By full dark, Tall Bull knew that one of two things had happened: Jamie had been attacked by a panther or a bear, or he had run away to seek out his own kind.

Since the boy had an uncanny ability to get along with wild animals, Tall Bull had to conclude that Man Who Is Not Afraid had run away.

“Bad Leg saw him going north,” Little Wolf told his father. “That would be the logical thing for him to do.”

Tall Bull grunted. “Man Who Is Not Afraid would not necessarily do the logical thing. He is uncommonly bright and filled with wisdom for one so young. We can do nothing in the night. There is no moon and we would only blunder around in the dark, destroying any sign they might have left. Which will be few,” he added dryly. “We will commence the search at first light.”

* * *

Jamie had first set a hard pace. He was young and his muscles strong. But when he saw that Hannah was beginning to falter, he slowed to a walk for a time, allowing her to catch her breath. For seven hours that is how they traveled, running, jogging, walking, then resting for only a few minutes every hour. At full dark, with Jamie in a part of the country he had never before seen, he found a good place to rest. Hannah sank wearily to the branch-protected grassy spot. Jamie had no way of knowing just how many miles they had traveled from the Shawnee town, but he guessed at least fifteen or so miles. Maybe twenty. They were heading into dangerous country; disputed country. While there were ever-growing spots of civilization in this country, it was still very dangerous. And to make matters worse, Jamie really did not know where he was. For as the white people pushed further west, the Shawnee town had been moved several times during Jamie's captive years.

Jamie thought it was 1820, but he wasn't sure about that, either. He had heard talk among the elders that there were thousands of whites living in the territory that bordered the latest Shawnee town, considerably smaller and hidden much better than the first one Jamie had been taken to. Many of the Shawnees had moved much further north, but Tall Bull and those who followed him stayed to the south.

“Where are we, Jamie?” Hannah asked the next morning.

“I don't know,” the boy gave her an honest answer. “But we're free.”

They walked and ran all that day, and the next, heading south. Jamie never did find the river he was looking for. But he did stumble onto a creek and he and Hannah followed that for miles, sometimes on the bank, sometimes wading to hide their footprints. On the ninth day out, Jamie was forced to admit that he was as lost as a goose. He and Hannah had gotten turned around in the dark woods and he had absolutely no idea where they might be.

“What do we do?” Hannah asked.

“I climb a tree,” Jamie said.

He climbed the tallest tree he could find, and when he finally settled on a limb, he was so startled he almost lost his balance and fell. He was looking at more smoke than he had seen in his life. Smoke from dozens of chimneys. This was no Indian village or town. No Indian would allow that much smoke to fill the air and give away their location. Jamie figured the town, surely a white town, was no more than three or four miles away, over the hills.