Twin Willows: A Novel (18 page)

Less than an hour after she had run away from him, Otter found the one he called Willow. But that had only been the start of his trouble. After trying to speak to her and find out why she had run from him, Otter discovered that this was not the girl he had known in Waccachalla, not the girl with whom he had hoped to share a marriage blanket.

Otter frowned and wondered what
matchemenetoo
, what trick of an evil spirit, could have made her look so much like Willow. Even in the full light of the afternoon sun, he had no doubt that anyone who’d ever seen Willow would mistake this girl for her. But this one spoke the
Shemanese
tongue, and she seemed not to understand him. Unless the
Shemanese
had somehow managed to possess her spirit, this was not the same Willow that Otter had thought to bring into his lodge.

“Who are you?” Otter asked her, but he hadn’t understood her
Shemanese
answer. Stubbornly she had looked in the direction of the Station and signed that she wanted to go back to it. The girl pointed to herself and spoke slowly. “Anna Willow McKnight.” Then she repeated the words, but Otter did not understand.

“You look like Willow.”

The girl shook her head and touched her hand to her heart. “No! I am
Anna
Willow McKnight. My name is
Anna
Willow, not just Willow.”

All Otter could grasp was that this girl looked like the Willow that he knew, but talked in the
Shemanese
tongue and pretended not to understand Shawnee words. Even though her strange behavior puzzled and confused him, Otter would not let her get away from him a second time. When she turned and made as if to run, Otter quickly caught her. With one hand he held her by her long hair, while with the other he brandished his belt knife.

Even then she did not cry or beg for mercy, but closed her eyes as if waiting for him to scalp her. A lesser man might fear her and set her free. But Otter was a strong and brave warrior, and now he had a way to prove it. Rather than taking this one’s scalp, Otter would take her to Waccachalla. All the people there would see this strange thing for themselves, and Black Oak himself would say what to do with her.

Once more the girl with the strange Willow-name would ride with Otter, but this time she couldn’t escape. He bound her hands with a long rawhide strip from his leggings. When she protested that the strip hurt her wrists, he removed his sweaty red headband and tied it around her mouth. She gagged on the rank odor of bear grease that seemed to permeate everything about the man, but her captor paid her discomfort no heed.

Otter lifted Anna onto his horse, where she rode in front of him, barricaded on either side by his muscular arms. When he urged the horse into the Ohio River current, Anna realized that if he had not so placed her, she surely would have been swept off the horse and drowned.

As Anna’s captor bore her northward, she now knew his name—the only thing he’d said that she had understood. But she still had no clue why this Otter had taken her captive, why he had called her “Willow” from the first, where he was taking her, or what would happen to her when they got there.

This man has had several chances to kill me
, Anna realized. Why hadn’t he scalped her immediately? She had heard stories of some Indian captives who had been tortured and killed, and of others who had been well treated. A few had even been adopted into Indian families. A woman named Mary Jemison had eventually married an Indian warrior and refused to leave him, even when she had the opportunity.

Recalling the story, Anna felt even more uneasy.
I hope this Indian doesn’t have anything like that in mind for me
.

K
ANAWHA
T
RAIL

Riding behind White Eagle, Willow automatically noted the direction in which they traveled and identified landmarks that would help her find her way again, should that ever be necessary. Although several other trails crossed theirs, the area seemed relatively deserted.

Something important must be going on, that no men hunt and no women gather berries and acorns along this way
, Willow thought. She asked White Eagle nothing, however, content merely to enjoy his presence and her strange new feeling of peace and well-being.

Once they stopped in a small Shawnee village that to Willow’s eyes seemed even poorer than Waccachalla. Its chief greeted them warmly, however, and insisted that Willow and White Eagle should partake of a meal of persimmons and acorn bread. Willow washed her food down with a bitter herbal tea the chief’s wife assured would make her strong.

“Your woman is too pale,” she told White Eagle.

“This one will always be so,” he had replied. Beyond telling them that she was called Willow, White Eagle said nothing about her, but Willow took heart that he hadn’t corrected the chief’s wife when she called Willow his woman.

Late in the afternoon White Eagle stopped by a message tree, an ancient dead oak with many curious carvings on its bark. White Eagle barely glanced at it, though, as he helped her down from his horse.

“We walk into Shawnee Town from here,” he said. “It is not far to the village now.”

Willow smelled the settlement even before they reached its
wegiwas
. She closed her eyes briefly as her nose recorded each familiar aroma. Sun-drying hides, wood-tanned skins, bear grease, boiling herbs, cooking pots full of stew—rabbit or turkey or squirrel—and overall, the ever-present pungency of fragrant wood smoke. Comforting home smells.

A moment later the path widened into a large clearing. “We are here,” White Eagle said unnecessarily.

Willow felt a bit overwhelmed as she saw the village spread before her. “This Shawnee Town is a fine place,” she said.

Not only was it the largest village Willow had ever seen, it also reminded her of Waccachalla in the days of her youth, before the first burning of their
wegiwas
and the destruction of their crops in the fields.

As if he knew her thoughts, White Eagle’s hand touched the small of Willow’s back in a comforting gesture. “Tall Oak does much to keep his people safe. All around us is hidden food, should the
Shemanese
do with us as they have others. Here you will be safe.”

With you I will feel safe anywhere
. Willow wished for the boldness to say the words as well as think them, but she remained silent.

“There is my mother.” White Eagle pointed toward a matron who sat cross-legged before a large
wegiwa
, intent on her task of grinding corn.

At the same moment White Eagle spoke, the woman looked up and saw him. In one graceful movement, she rose and moved toward him.

Willow stopped and let White Eagle greet his mother alone.

“Why do you come back so early, my son?”

White Eagle accepted his mother’s embrace, then half turned toward Willow. “This is Willow, a maiden from Black Snake’s village. She will stay here while I parley with Tall Oak.”

White Eagle’s mother touched her hand to her heart and then toward her
wegiwa
in a gesture of welcome. “Come, my child. You will have food and drink.”

“We will talk later this day, my mother.” Without looking at Willow, White Eagle strode off toward the largest lodge in the village. Willow knew it must be the
msi-kah-mi-qui
, the place where Chief Tall Oak held council.

“I am called Shining Star,” White Eagle’s mother told her. Then, seeing the way Willow looked back at White Eagle, she frowned slightly. “My son will soon return.”

Ashamed that she had allowed her feelings to show so plainly, Willow followed Shining Star into her
wegiwa
, even though her heart and thoughts still stayed with White Eagle. Willow wondered what his chief would say.

After Willow had eaten, Shining Star folded her arms across her chest in the Shawnee way of showing readiness to listen to a matter of importance. “Now I would hear how you come here with my son,” she said.

“It is a hard thing. I do not know how to tell it all,” Willow said.

“Make a beginning. The rest will come.”

Haltingly at first, then speaking more surely, Willow traced what had happened the past few days. Only once, when she described how White Eagle had buried her mother, did her voice waver, and that only for a moment.

“So I am come to this place, as White Eagle promised Bear’s Daughter,” she finished.

Shining Star grunted softly, but did not comment on what she had heard. She pointed to a bed of skins. “Now you will rest there.”

Willow lay down, but although she was tired, she waited, wide-eyed, for White Eagle to return. It seemed like a long time before she heard his voice.

“I am back, my mother.”

“What says Tall Oak, my son?”

“It is decided. He will do as I wish.”

“I do not understand this thing. Did Tall Oak not promise you his own daughter, Fair Moon? This girl Willow does not even look Shawnee.”

“Her mother was kin to the Lenni-Lenape and her father was a
Shemanese
trader. But the girl Willow is all Shawnee.”

“Take her back to her village, my son. You must have our chief’s daughter to wife.”

“Fair Moon is just a child. My mother surely knows she is too young to marry,” White Eagle said.

“I well know her age. Were not she and your brother Gray Shadow born in the same moon? In one more turn of the seasons, Fair Moon will be ripe to marry.”

Willow couldn’t see White Eagle, but she guessed that he must have made the cutoff sign. When he spoke again, it was with a warrior’s authority.

“I have told you this thing is decided. Tall Oak has said it.”

“So let it be, then.”

Willow heard the note of resignation in his mother’s voice, and knew that even though Shining Star might never mention the subject, she would not likely forget that Willow wasn’t her choice as her son’s bride.

I will be such a good wife to White Eagle that Shining Star will come to love me, too
, Willow vowed.

“I will see Willow now,” White Eagle said.

“The girl sleeps inside.”

“Leave us, my mother.”

As White Eagle entered the
wegiwa
, Willow sat up and made an effort to smooth her hair, which had not been properly dressed since her mother’s illness.

White Eagle knelt beside her and reached for her right hand. “My chief asks to see you. He would welcome you to Shawnee Town.”

“Is that all?” asked Willow, who knew it was not.

“He gives us a fine
wegiwa
, as well.”

“Then you will be my man?” she asked.

The corners of White Eagle’s mouth lifted in a brief smile. “It is already so, since my first sight of you.”

Willow wanted to throw her arms around White Eagle and cry out with joy, but a sadness in her heart stilled her. “There is one thing I would ask of your chief.”

“Tall Oak is your chief now. What is this thing?”

Willow withdrew her hand from White Eagle’s and crossed her hands with her palms over her heart to show the importance of what she was about to say.

“Black Snake does not know to mourn for Bear’s Daughter. I would go to Waccachalla to tell the chief that his kinswoman no longer lives.”

He nodded. “I will say this thing to Tall Oak. We go together.”

Willow squeezed his hand. “It is good, my husband.”

She had not dared to call him that before, and surprise briefly marked White Eagle’s face. He pulled Willow so close to his body that she felt the steady throb of his heart. She found herself holding her breath as his lips pressed against hers for the space of several heartbeats.

“Willow-
keewa
,” he whispered against her hair. Willow, you are my wife.

“
Niwy sheena
, ” she replied. You are my husband.

Then White Eagle left the
wegiwa
. Willow lay back on the bed of skins and touched her lips with her fingertips, cherishing the memory of his kiss and wondering what would happen that night, the first they would spend together as man and wife.

She had not properly mourned Bear’s Daughter, but at least her mother’s last desire was going to be fulfilled.

My mother, all will be as you wished. You will be honored
.

S
HAWNEE
T
OWN

Willow spent most of her first day in Shawnee Town with White Eagle’s mother. Shining Star candidly told Willow that she wanted her son to marry Fair Moon. “It is not a small thing for the chief to give his only daughter to White Eagle.”

“That is so. But I will be a good wife for your son.”

Shining Star laid her forearm beside Willow’s. Willow’s skin was several shades lighter than the older woman’s. “You are not like us. I would not have you bring my son trouble.”

Willow spoke earnestly. “I cannot help the way I look.” She touched her hand to her heart. “In here, we are the same.”

Shining Star turned away without replying, but later that day she took the girl to the creek and helped her wash her traveling dress. She stood watching while Willow waded into the water and washed her body and her hair.

When Shining Star offered to dress Willow’s hair, she misread Willow’s look of distress, and sat back on her heels, obviously displeased. “It is true that I have no daughters and my hands are not skilled in such work. I will call another to do this thing.”

Realizing that she had hurt Shining Star’s feelings, Willow spoke quickly. “No, Shining Star. Your offer honors me. I thank you for it. I only thought how my mother used to dress my hair. It took a long time because her hands were stiff with age.”

Shining Star’s tone was matter-of-fact. “What have we to do with that now? Come, sit in the light.”

Shining Star lifted the back of Willow’s hair with one hand and pulled a wide-toothed comb through it with the other, murmuring in surprise at its softness. “This must feel like the hair of the
Shemanese
. White Eagle found this comb on a
Shemanese
boat on the O-hio-se-pe. He took it to give to Fair Moon. Now it is yours.”

Willow felt brief jealousy that White Eagle had already been saving gifts for Fair Moon before her common sense checked it.
White Eagle did only what custom said he should. And that was before he knew me
.

When Shining Star was satisfied with Willow’s appearance, she took her outside, where White Eagle waited.

With pleasure, Willow briefly noticed the look of admiration in his eyes before she looked away, as befitted her station.

“You have cared well for Willow, my mother. Come, Willow. Tall Oak would speak with you now.”

As they walked to the council lodge, she said to White Eagle, “Perhaps your chief will not like me.”

He glanced at her and shook his head. “Tall Oak will like my woman because I do.”

Willow felt her heart lift at his words. With White Eagle beside her, Willow held her head high as they entered the council lodge.

Soon Willow realized she had nothing to fear from Tall Oak. She thought he was more than kind to her, particularly since her sudden appearance had spoiled the plan for his daughter to marry White Eagle. Tall Oak told Willow that he knew of her mother, Bear’s Daughter; he agreed that all of Waccachalla should know of her death and mourn her. Then he picked up a blanket and beckoned Willow and White Eagle to come and stand before him.

“White Eagle, is it your wish to have this woman?” he asked.

Willow lowered her head and dared not look at him. She felt great relief when he answered.

“Yes, my chief.”

Tall Oak turned to Willow. “Will you share White Eagle’s blanket?”

Although her heart exulted, she spoke quietly. “Yes, my chief.”

The chief unfolded the blanket and came behind them to lay it across their shoulders, thus giving his approval to their wish to join their lives.

White Eagle kissed her forehead, and the thing was done—Willow and White Eagle were married. She folded their marriage blanket and waited quietly for Tall Oak and White Eagle to finish their parley.

“I would also send a gift to my Shawnee brother Black Snake,” said the chief. He pointed to a magnificent buffalo-skin robe, hand-cleaned by Tall Oak’s wife with white sand and the finest of quill brushes.

“Chief Black Snake will be much pleased with this gift.”

Tall Oak nodded. “He is a worthy chief. Say to him we would have his warriors help us against the
Shemanese
.”

“I will tell Black Snake this thing.” White Eagle paused, then glanced at Willow before he spoke again. “My chief knows that my wife has no horse.”

Tall Oak understood what the warrior wanted and shook his head. “She came to Shawnee Town on White Eagle’s horse. She must leave the same way. I have no horses to spare.”

If the reply disappointed White Eagle, he gave no sign of it. Willow smiled to herself as they left the chief. Mishewa was a strong animal. He could carry them both with ease, and riding double, she could keep her arms around White Eagle the whole way.

“This night you will stay in my mother’s lodge,” White Eagle said when they had walked a few paces from the council lodge. “We ride out at dawn.” Then, almost as if he knew her thoughts, he put his hand under her chin and raised her face to his. “Then we will be together.”

Willow nodded. “It will be as you say.”

That night, Shining Star gave Willow a pair of fringed leggings to wear under her doeskin shift. They would make riding more comfortable and protect her legs from briers and brambles if she had to walk through underbrush. Willow thanked Shining Star, but she was even more grateful that White Eagle’s mother seemed to have accepted Willow as her son’s wife, no matter how reluctantly.

Just before dawn she stood at the lodge door with Shining Star and watched White Eagle approach, outlined in the morning light. Willow’s heart swelled. It thrilled her to know that this handsome young warrior had promised to be her man for as long as the seasons turned for them both.

No longer in war paint, White Eagle wore a long cloth hunting shirt over his fringed leggings and breechclout. His hair was held out of his face by a scarlet headband, but hung loose about his shoulders.

“Are you ready?” he asked Willow.

“Yes.” She stepped from the
wegiwa
, then turned to bow to Shining Star. “I thank White Eagle’s mother.”

The woman nodded. “May you journey safe.”

White Eagle embraced his mother, then helped boost Willow onto the seat he’d fashioned from two folded blankets. Riding out of Shawnee Town behind White Eagle, Willow felt a surge of happiness. She imagined the look on Otter’s face when he saw her fine husband, and smiled.

When they reached the trail, White Eagle turned to look at Willow as if to reassure himself that she was still there. “My father would like you,” he said.

Other than his name and that he had been a warrior, Willow knew nothing about White Eagle’s father. “Did the
Shemanese
kill Red Hawk?”

“Not with their rifles. A
Shemanese
trader gave him sickness that no medicine man could cure. My mother and I watched him die.”

Willow was silent for a moment. Her own father had been such a
Shemanese
trader. Even though her father had been dead for many years and could not have been the one who caused Red Hawk’s death, White Eagle could have rejected Willow because of her white blood. Yet he had not.

She tightened the pressure of her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his back. “You knew your father. I did not know mine.”

White Eagle glanced over his shoulder at her. “You never saw the
Shemanese
who fathered you?”

“No. My mother did not talk of him. Only lately have I known his name—Ee-an M’night.”

“That
Shemanese
does not matter. You do not need him now.”

Her heart lifted in exulatation, but she spoke quietly. “I know. I am glad for it, my husband.”

Truly
, Willow thought,
White Eagle is the only man I will ever want
.