Eliot Pattison - Eye of the Raven

But Skanawati just kept watching the stars. When at last he stood, stretching, there was a faint, gray hint of dawn in the east. Instead of sliding down the roof shakes he stepped back to the chimney and lowered himself inside. Duncan watched in disbelief. In his mind's eye he was already running, free, over the laurel ridges beyond the town. With painful effort he inched toward the chimney, casting one more longing glance toward the forest, then followed the Iroquois back into their jail.

The rattle of the timber bar the next morning brought Duncan to his feet instantly. He was halfway to the door when something in the window caught his eye. He halted with a shudder. A small squirrel hung dead. A piece of twine had been tied in a noose, suspending it. He touched it. It was still warm. It was one of the nocturnal flying squirrels, considered by some in the tribes to be a messenger from the spirit world.

He untied the twine, letting the creature fall to the ground outside, just as Macklin stepped through the door, closely followed by Mokie carrying a covered tray. As the girl uncovered bowls of cooked oats, fresh bread, and tea, she turned to Duncan with a determined glint. "He will be fine, Mr. McCallum, Mama and I will see to it."

Duncan lowered the spoon in his hand. "Who is going to be fine, Mokie?"

"Mr. Hadley. They came for us last night again, when I was returning to Mama's room. He wouldn't let them take us."

Macklin touched Duncan's arm. "The Virginians insist that Hadley sit with them as part of the treaty delegation. He is part of the Burke family, they remind him. He has taken notes from his travels with you, and they insisted on seeing them. Then the Virginians made Hadley go with them to the women's quarters, but when he realized what they were about, he resisted. They gave him a good thrashing, nothing too serious because he is family. There is a doctor here," Macklin added quickly. "No broken bones. Mokie nursed him most of the night."

Duncan now saw that the girl glowed. "What else, Mokie?"

"Sometime in the night, when he told me I should get some sleep, I told him it was right I tended him, after the way you and he helped deliver our precious Penn. That's when he said it."

"Said what?"

"He had me lean over him so he could whisper." The girl grew very serious, her eyes wide. "He told me I was his sister. He told me no matter what it cost him, Mama and me were done being slaves."

Duncan grinned. At least some justice was being found along the tortured path of the treaty convoy.

Macklin pointed Duncan to a corner as Mokie, to the chiefs obvious amusement, presented Skanawati his breakfast with a curtsy. "I sat into the night reviewing the journal books in the Gemeinhaus, the main administrative building. Then later I found one of the teachers debating European politics at the Sun Inn down the street.

"There were four youths returned from tribal captivity that year. Sister Leinbach worked with all of them. Two eventually went on to Philadelphia, two were adopted by farm families. The names were Mueller, Rohrbach, Gottlieb, and Smith."

"No Felton?"

"I was as disappointed as you at first. No Felton at all for the past five years. But the teacher explained that those who were captured very young often forget their names. When that happens those who seem to remember some German get German names, those who seem English, English names. One of the boys, the one named Smith, was quite difficult. Rebellious, even violently so. The teacher recalls once Sister Leinbach gave him extra prayers to read as discipline, but," Macklin said in a tight voice, "the prayers were found the next morning impaled on an arrow, shot into the statue of the Holy Mother in our chapel. Still she was very patient with him, made him her special project that year. Improved his English tremendously, nurtured his soul, used the rod when she had to. Smith showed up at a Christmas service with stripes painted on his face.

"He had been brought back under duress from a Huron village by some trappers who thought a bounty would be paid for him. But no one knew who his family was, and they just left him here. It was only when Smith finally began to enjoy some of the pleasures of European life that he began to speak of memories as a small boy on a farm near Tulpehocken. They started to piece together the truth, although that took months. The elders came close to ejecting him many times. He would mock the Christian Indians, saying they had all been neutered by magic words out of a black book, he stole things from the kitchens. But Sister Leinbach persevered, as if the boy had become a spiritual test for her. Small mutilated animals would be found at her doorstep, once even in her bed. He seemed to nurture a particular hatred for her.

"Finally it was decided that all his immediate family had been massacred, so other relations had to be tracked down. When his Philadelphia relatives finally came he saw they were all somber Quakers and at first declined to see them. One of the brothers who was in the school says he thinks he dropped his objections to them when he saw they were wealthy, although others insist he finally came to be bathed in their Christian love."

A chill had descended over Duncan as Macklin had spoken. "Did he take his leave for Philadelphia before the departure of Sister Leinbach?"

"Two days after her departure."

Duncan stared at the piece of bread in his hand. He had lost his appetite. "And she was never seen again? Surely she had an escort.

"Sister Leinbach was a strong-willed woman, with a very particular vision of God's calling for her. Her only escorts were the mule she rode and a pack pony. She insisted on traveling alone to Shamokin for the first stage of her journey, to talk with God and build her spiritual strength for the challenges ahead. She meant to travel far into the Ohio country."

"Surely there was a search for her?"

"The road from here to Shamokin can be difficult because of the river crossings. There had been heavy rains. Sometimes in such weather our people will be taken in by a settler's family and shelter for a week or two. I waited a month before I decided to send a query asking when we could expect her. Many searchers were sent to look for her, but by then the trail was long cold, and the Huron raiders were getting active again."

Duncan watched Skanawati speaking with Mokie, smiling patiently as the girl traced with her finger the complex tattoos on his arm. When she was done he reached into his blanket and pulled out a little doll fashioned of straw from his pallet, expertly woven and pinched to give it shape. Duncan remembered seeing a similar one, made of corn husks, at the chiefs village. The girl's eyes lit with excitement, and Skanawati glanced with embarrassment at Duncan as the girl hugged him.

"The treaty negotiators are at the end of their patience," Macklin declared. "There will be further conferring today. Magistrate Brindle has clerks in the Gemeinhaus preparing terms on parchment for signature. The trial may be tomorrow." Macklin looked uneasily at a group of men who were erecting a wooden structure near a corner of the main street. "Lord Ramsey has contributed a large sum for the expansion of the chapel here. That man in the lace collar who always sits with Ramsey isn't just his lawyer, Duncan, he is a judge. The one who has all the other witness statements. The one who is now to determine Skanawati's fate."

With those words the door was flung open. One of the kilted guards stood with an expectant gaze, waving the visitors out. Mokie solemnly shook hands with Skanawati, then Duncan. "Mr. Hadley says I must stay in my service for now, until it is over."

"Service?"

"With the great lord from Philadelphia. Lord Ramsey thinks he will buy us when this is over." The words were spoken not with foreboding but mischief as Mokie offered an exaggerated curtsy and skipped away.