Twin Willows: A Novel (14 page)

“That is the village firestone,” she said. “No lodges now circle it.”

Glancing around, Willow noticed the small piles of debris and ashes, all that remained of the lodges that had once stood in this place. She had seen many burned villages, and with sadness Willow knew that whatever Bear’s Daughter sought here, she would probably never find.

“Is this the village of Netawatawees?” Willow asked.

Bear’s Daughter wiped her eyes. “Once, Bright Horn was chief here. There were many lodges then. The chief lived in the middle. By the water was a fine steam house. My own lodge stood there.”

Willow looked where her mother pointed and wished she could share the vision of her mother’s memories. “Is that where I was born?”

Bear’s Daughter shook her head. “Help me up. I would go past those trees.”

Willow did as she was told, once more supporting most of Bear’s Daughter’s weight as they slowly made their way to the ruins of a lodge set well apart from the rest of the village.

“Here. This is the place of the birthing lodge,” Bear’s Daughter whispered.

Willow looked around, expecting the spot to stir some emotions in her. But she felt nothing more than the chill of the light evening breeze on her bare arms. She shivered and tried to imagine the scene in the birthing lodge as Bear’s Daughter held her for the first time and the shadowy figure of the
Shemanese
who had fathered her looked on.

“Let me sit against the oak,” Bear’s Daughter said, and Willow eased her down in front of a huge old oak tree. She saw something in her mother’s face that she had never seen before, and it frightened her.

“What is it, my mother?” she asked gently.

Bear’s Daughter stared at the place where the birthing lodge had stood and began to rock back and forth, chanting a part of the Death Song. After a moment she stopped and turned to look full into Willow’s eyes. “Your father never came to this lodge,” she said. “The day of your birth, he walked out to check his traps.”

Sensing that in this place Bear’s Daughter might speak more freely, Willow asked the question that had always been on her mind. “Tell me about my father.”

Bear’s Daughter stared at the ruined lodge as if seeing some vision from the past. “He was a good man for a
Shemanese
,” she said.

Disappointed, Willow leaned her forehead against the tree’s rough bark and sighed. “You have said this before. I would know more.”

“Ee-an M’night,” Bear’s Daughter said slowly. At first Willow thought her mother was making up another chant, but when she repeated it, Willow understood that Bear’s Daughter must be naming her father.

“What did you know of him?” Willow asked.

Bear’s Daughter looked back at Willow and frowned as if trying to remember. “It is a long time ago. Tall, with wild red hair on his head and face the color of the maple leaf before it falls. A good hunter, a fair trader. A good man.”

Willow sat in silence for a moment, trying to construct a full image from Bear’s Daughter’s description. “Why tell me this now, when you never would before?”

“It is to keep you safe. The
Shemanese
can see that you have their blood. The name of Ee-an M’night is honored among them. You must say this if any
Shemanese
ever seek to harm you: Ee-an M’night fath-er.”

“Ee-an M’night fath-er,” Willow repeated. “A strange name.”

“Not among the
Shemanese
. He is called Ee-an M’night. ‘Fath-er’ is how
Shemanese
say
notha
.”

“You have said that my father died many years ago. It may be that the
Shemanese
do not know this name.”

Bear’s Daughter raised her head and gazed into Willow’s eyes. “His name is all your father could ever give you. You must say it with pride.”

“Ee-an M’night. I will not forget it, my mother.”

“There is something more,” Bear’s Daughter said haltingly. “Before I die, you should know that I am not—”

She stopped suddenly and closed her eyes. Willow waited expectantly. “Yes, my mother?” she prompted.

Bear’s Daughter opened her eyes and Willow sensed that she had changed her mind about what she had intended to say. “I am not young now, nor was I when you were born.”

“I know,” said Willow. She’d often wondered how it happened that her mother had so long been childless, but it was not the kind of question that she would dare to ask.

Bear’s Daughter closed her eyes again and spoke quietly. “I will not live to see your children. They should know the name of their
Shemanese
grandfather. It could help them one day. Remember it.”

Willow nodded and tried not to show how disturbed she was at Bear’s Daughter’s strange behavior. “Rest here, my mother. I will make camp by the Muskingum. The sound of the water will soothe you.”

Willow lay awake for a long while that night, alternately worrying about her mother’s labored breathing and wondering about the tall man with bright red hair who had fathered her. Had he and her mother been of an age? Or had he perhaps been older—or even younger?
Even if my father’s name has no power to keep me and mine safe
, she thought,
yet I am glad to know it. If only my father could be here to help us
.

Willow sought a more comfortable position and considered what her life might have been like if her father had lived. Perhaps Ee-an M’night would have taken them to live among the
Shemanese
, but even if he had not, he would have been there to help them, and she and Bear’s Daughter wouldn’t have had to depend on Black Snake to take care of them.

Willow sighed. Her mother grew weaker every day, despite the good herbs that Willow had gathered for her, and their food was all but gone. Willow didn’t need the Shawnee warrior White Eagle to tell her that they needed protection. The only question was, who would provide it?

Willow closed her eyes and made up a chant-song, which she hummed softly to herself, over and over.

Great Spirit, help us safely back to Waccachalla
.

The next morning Willow and Bear’s Daughter returned to the Kanawha Trail that would eventually lead them back to their village. Willow walked more slowly than when they had first started out, not only because of Bear’s Daughter condition, but also because she too was becoming weak from lack of food. Also, Willow dreaded what awaited on their return to Waccachalla.

Bear’s Daughter had planned to stay many weeks in her Delaware village, had it not been deserted. By then Otter would certainly have grown tired of waiting for Willow and taken another to be his wife. However, if the women returned sooner, it was more than likely that Willow would be forced to accept Otter, especially if Bear’s Daughter did not recover from her illness.

At midmorning Willow broke her worried silence. “Let us rest now, my mother,” Willow said.

“We have not come far enough. We must go on,” Bear’s Daughter murmured.

“We must have water. I will go to the creek over there,” Willow said.

Bear’s Daughter sank down onto the soft grass beside the trail and closed her eyes. “As you say.”

The sound of running water at the creek masked all others, but as Willow returned to the trail, she heard approaching hoofbeats.
Shemanese
, she feared. Alarmed, Willow ran to Bear’s Daughter, whose eyes were still closed, and shook her.

“Wake up, my mother. Someone comes this way.”

Slowly Bear’s Daughter opened her eyes and looked around as if surprised to see where she was. “What?” she asked thickly.

Willow reached with both hands to pull her mother to her feet. No nearby shrubs offered protection; they would have to seek the cover of the forest. “We must leave this trail,” Willow said. “Hurry.”

Willow’s efforts were useless. Bear’s Daughter rose with great difficulty, but before they could reach cover, a lone warrior rode into view.

Willow stopped and stared at the familiar figure.
Is this really White Eagle, or in my hunger does my mind call up what I wish to see?

Then he spoke, and when Bear’s Daughter also turned toward him, Willow felt relief that she hadn’t imagined his presence.

White Eagle swung down from his horse and spoke to Bear’s Daughter reprovingly. “You did not do as I told you, old woman.”

Bear’s Daughter held her head high. “We go to Waccachalla now. What of you? Why does this warrior ride alone?”

“I feared some harm might come to you.” White Eagle looked closely at Bear’s Daughter, then turned to Willow. “This old woman cannot walk so far.”

Without the red war paint that had somewhat disguised his features, White Eagle looked even more handsome, Willow thought, and she struggled to steady her voice. “We found everything in the old village as you said. My mother is sad and weary.”

White Eagle looked back at Bear’s Daughter. “You must go on my horse to my village. Then I will take you to Waccachalla.”

Willow half expected Bear’s Daughter to refuse his offer, but she merely nodded. “It is good. We have little food and my care is a heavy burden for my daughter.”

“It is not so,” Willow began, but White Eagle drew his hand, palm down, against his throat in the cutoff sign, and motioned for her to help him get Bear’s Daughter onto his horse. When that had been done, he put his hands around Willow’s waist to lift her onto the horse as well.

Immediately Willow backed away, completely unnerved by White Eagle’s touch. “I will walk,” she said, more shortly than she intended.

“Mishewa is strong. He can carry you both.”

“I will walk. I have said it,” Willow repeated.

“Then let us go.”

With White Eagle leading his horse on the left and Willow walking on the right to occasionally steady her mother, they made their way south on the Kanawha Trail. Without mentioning that she had been born there, Willow told White Eagle what they had found in the old Delaware village.

“Those places are not safe,” White Eagle said when Willow finished her account.

“Speak to me of your Shawnee Town,” Bear’s Daughter said, surprising them with her sudden entry into the conversation. “Is it safe?”

“For now. We raid the
Shemanese
who might come to us.”

Bear’s Daughter was silent for a moment. “I would know if White Eagle has a wife,” she said.

Willow’s breath caught in a gasp at her mother’s bold question, and she felt grateful that White Eagle couldn’t see her reaction.

White Eagle’s answer was quick. “No. I have been too much in war paint. I do not have time to think of such a thing.”

Willow’s relief at his answer immediately changed to further embarrassment as Bear’s Daughter spoke again. “A warrior has need of a wife. My daughter has need of a man. There is none in Waccachalla that she will have.”

What makes you think I will have this man, either?
Willow knew that she should say the words for the sake of her pride, but they stuck in her throat.

“Your daughter is old to be yet a maiden,” White Eagle said matter-of-factly, further shaming Willow. Even though it wasn’t her place to do so, Willow would have spoken on her own behalf, had any sensible words come to her mind.

In the meantime, Bear’s Daughter kept on talking as if Willow weren’t there. “Her father was a
Shemanese
, well known among the Delaware of Bright Horn’s village. She has not taken a man, and I can no longer care for her.”

Although Willow couldn’t see White Eagle’s face, his tone reassured her. “In that case, I would welcome you both to my
wegiwa
,” he said.

Bear’s Daughter chuckled. “I do not think White Eagle would want to take this old woman to wife,” she said.

Shocked, Willow managed to find her voice. “My mother, you should not speak of such things.” Willow hoped that Bear’s Daughter’s frank offer of Willow’s hand hadn’t offended White Eagle.

White Eagle turned so he could see Willow’s face. “I do not mind, maiden. Among my people, the old say what they like. So be it.”

“I would talk of this thing with your chief,” Bear’s Daughter said.

“Tall Oak will hear of it,” White Eagle promised.

Satisfied, Bear’s Daughter closed her eyes and remained silent the rest of that afternoon. As the evening sun began to cast long shadows, White Eagle led the horse off the trail to a camping place that evidently he and many others had used before. He helped Bear’s Daughter from the horse, then unearthed a cache of food and fed her as a mother would a sick child.

Later, when Bear’s Daughter shook with a sudden chill, White Eagle rubbed warmth into her limbs and made a fire whose flames seemed to comfort her.

“I like not the way my mother looks,” Willow said quietly.

White Eagle laid his hand on her forehead and shook his head. “She feels chill, yet she burns with fever. It is not good.”

Bear’s Daughter slept for a time, then roused and looked around with wild eyes, as if she had forgotten where she was. “My daughter! Where are you?”

Quickly Willow bent over her and held her hands. “I am here, my mother. Calm yourself.”

“What of the warrior?” she asked.

White Eagle knelt beside her. “White Eagle is here. What would you have, old woman?”

Bear’s Daughter took a deep breath and gasped for air. “Your word. You must care for my daughter.”

White Eagle leaned closer to Bear’s Daughter and spoke clearly. “All will be done as you have said. It will be so.”

Bear’s Daughter’s eyes remained closed, but she nodded slightly to indicate that she heard and understood what he said. “I can rest now,” she whispered.

“She sleeps again,” White Eagle said.

Willow pulled the blanket under her mother’s chin and shook her head. “Her breathing is not right.”

Bear’s Daughter’s chest lifted with each slow intake of air, followed by a pause that seemed longer each time. From somewhere deep in her chest came a hideous sound that Willow had heard far too often not to recognize.

“The spirits of the dead will soon come for her,” Willow whispered.

White Eagle made no effort to deny Willow’s words or to comfort her in any way. Instead, he drew apart from them; then, facing the east, he began the first low notes of the Death Song.