William Johnstone: Eyes of Eagles

“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.”

Two

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.