The Legend of Tyoga Weathersby

by H L Grandin

  “No one would ever call you a coward, Tyoga,” Tes Qua insisted. “You are the most courageous brave of all of the Ani-Unwiya. All of the People know that to be true.”

  “Just the same, I think that I was just takin’ the easy way out.”

  Prairie Day was listening to the two men speak. In the tradition of the Ani-Unwiya, she kept her counsel to herself, but she wanted to know more. “Eh ya, Dihitil. Eh ya ta ha ni gi?”

  “I’m going after Sunlei,” Tyoga said.

  Prairie Day closed her eyes for the briefest of moments. Then, she stood and walked over to them with two plates filled with trout, beans and squash, a mash of corn and lima beans and corn bread.

  In the late afternoon, there was a great deal of activity in the village below. Tyoga stayed close to the lodge so that he could not be seen by the people milling about the grounds of Tuckareegee. Used to seeing Prairie Day at the campsite at all hours of the day and night, the villagers paid no attention to the smoke coming from the outcropping.

  In horror, Prairie Day and Tes Qua listened while Tyoga described the methodical murders of the Shawnee war party. He disclosed unnecessary details of their demise and described the slaughter with neither pride nor shame. Watching his gentle hazel eyes as he told the story with a matter-of-factness that seemed to mitigate moral responsibility for the atrocities he had committed gave them both pause. Prairie Day and Tes Qua exchanged inquisitive glances while Tyoga told the tale. Each of them was sure that the other was thinking the same thought.

  Tyoga had killed as deliberately and with the same degree of cunning and stealth as the wolf the legend said he had become. Perhaps there was more to the legend than either was prepared to accept.

  Prairie Day took the shallow wooden bowl from Tes Qua’s outstretch hand. She paused and turned toward Tyoga. He held his bowl out for her to take from his hand, but she did not reach for it.

  Looking him straight in the eyes, she said, “Tyoga, you cannot go after Sunlei.”

  Tyoga raised his eyebrows and looked over at Tes Qua for confirmation that Priarie Day had spoken boldly and out of line.

  Tes Qua did not return his look of surprise. Instead, he was staring intently at Prairie Day, which granted her silent permission to continue with her thoughts.

  Without taking her eyes off of Tyoga, she said, “You must not go searching for Sunlei. Not yet. Not now. Chief Yellow Robe will not rest until you are found. If you go looking for Sunlei, his braves will know and they will allow you to draw them nearer to her. Your search to find her will only bring her harm. They will follow you and capture and kill you both.”

  “Prairie Day, you do not know these things to be true,” Tyoga replied incredulously. “Another truth may be that I find her and take her far away from here. We will go to the Powhatan and live in peace.”

  “No, Tyoga!” Prairie Day demanded as tears welled in her eyes. “Hear me, Ditihli. You must listen. If you go searching for Sunlei now, neither one of you will remain alive to see the spring.” She paused to wipe her eyes and regain her composure.

  Tyoga stared up at her gentle face. He had no words.

  “There is more, my brave one.” She referred to him as only Sunlei had in the past. She waited for him to reply.

  “Tell me, Prairie Day.” Tyoga looked down into the dirt between his crossed legs.

  “Did you see Seven Arrows’ dead body?” she asked. “Did you look upon it with your own eyes?”

  Knowing what she was implying, Tyoga sprang to his feet and shouted at her as she turned to walk away, “I didn’t need to see his dead body. I heard his warriors screaming of his death. Over and over I heard them say ‘He is dead, he is dead’.”

  Prairie Day spun around to face Tyoga and planted her feet firmly to stand her ground. “He is not,” she shouted back at him. She turned away, walked toward the fire, and repeated more softly, but no less firmly, “He is not dead.”

  At this, Tes Qua stood up and looked back and forth between them.

  Tyoga reached out for her and turned her around by the shoulders. His eyes asked the question to which she replied, “There are things that a woman knows that you cannot understand. I tell you that his spirit lives.”

  “Tyoga, if Prairie Day is right, you cannot go after my sister. They will let you lead them to her and kill you both,” Tes Qua said.

  Turning away from them, Tyoga took several steps toward the shelter. He stopped to gaze into the woods.

  Prairie Day saw the fabric of his shirt begin to tighten across his back. His breathing became deep and slow. She walked over to him and laced her arm through his and rested the palm of her other hand on his growing biceps. “No, Tyoga,” she said quietly. “Now is not the time for Wahaya. Now is the time to think and act wisely.” She stroked his arm lovingly and waited until she felt the tension drain away before leading him back toward the fire.

  “Prairie Day is right, Tyoga,” Tes Qua said. “You must do what is best for everyone. But, my brother, it will not be easy.”

  “And what is that, Ditihli?” Tyoga asked. “What is it that I must do?”

  “Leave,” Tes Qua replied. “You must leave this place and disappear into the wilderness like Wahaya. You must go where no one will find you, and you must not return until I come for you.”

  The sun was setting over Keyser’s Ridge. The first evening stars twinkled to life. The village of Tuckareegee was swallowed in stillness and calm. The forest came alive with the sounds of the night as the blackness enveloped the three friends—each lost in silent thought.

  Once again, Tyoga was at a crossroads.

  Feeling the coolness of mother earth through the boulder upon which he sat, Tyoga threw his head back to look up into the heavens.

  Closing his eyes, he remembered once again that glorious moment on Carter’s Rock when the awakening changed his life forever. Feeling his spirit meld with the blackness of night, like it had done in the brilliant light on that frosty morning so many years ago, he wondered if the promise had forsaken him when he needed it the most. He intuitively understood that when circumstances force us to make decisions that hold in the balance the choice between life and death, perseverance and renewal is the promise of nature’s way. To choose otherwise is to be deaf to the whispers and blind to the subtle cues.

  When fighting for Tes Qua’s life in his battle with Wahaya, he had chosen mercy when the balance between life and death was held in his hands. Yet, he had callously dismissed compassion and had chosen death for the Shawnee braves.

  Had the spirit of Wahaya muted the wisdom and truth of the promise so profoundly that I am no longer able to hear? Is the price to be paid for my savagery the loss of the whispered truth?

  Wait. Perhaps I have heard. Maybe I did listen. Perhaps the murder of the Shawnee braves was no choice at all, but decreed by the truth of the promise. Maybe their murder and desecration was the path set forth for them from the moment of their birth. Maybe, just maybe, I was simply the instrument in nature’s orchestra which understood the true commands of the maestro’s baton.

  His mind was flooded with the confusion of loss and the regret of compromise. Placing his hands on either side of his head to quiet his mind, he drew his knees to his chest and felt the tears stream silently down his cheeks.

  Prairie Day stoked the fire with dry hickory logs and went over to where Tyoga was sitting. The smoke from the rising flames, caught in her current, followed her gentle sway and clung to her form while she leaned over to kiss the top of his head.

  When she walked away, the smoke did not follow but swirled around his head and stung his eyes with its pungent bite. A puff of wind from the northwest cleared the smoke and blew the sandy locks of hair from his eyes. He blinked to stem the flow of salty tears, straightened his back, and rubbed both eyes with the palms of his hands.

  Dropping his hands between his knees, he gasped when his eyes regained their focus. Putting his knuckles on the stone, he lifted himself up ever so slightly as if the h
eightened point of view would reset the focus of his eyes.

  Looking across the gorge at the trees lining Wilfer’s Ridge, he could see the individual leaves of massive oak trees in stunning clarity. He rose to his knees as the scent of the water running through the trace two hundred feet below was as clean and crisp as if he were standing on the bank.

  The rising moon electrified his skin, and the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end when he felt the wings of an owl cut through the evening shadows.

  He was the night. He was the smoke and the wind. The water in the trace was the blood in his veins.

  He smiled when he recognized the promise’s embrace.

  The answers were all around him hiding in plain sight. They drizzled from the granite walls and danced in the flames of the coal and ash. The answers rose in the smoke, condensed in the morning dew and were passed from pine to pine on the silent breeze.

  He remembered.

  In all things there are but two outcomes—and each is in keeping with nature’s wondrous plan.

  His choice was to kill the Shawnee or be killed by them. He would find Sunlei—or he would not. He would make the right decision now—or he would not.

  In either case—the journey would end exactly as it was meant to be.

  His decision would be right.

  Tyoga stood and turned to face his friends who were sitting by the fire. With a clear, calm determined voice, he said, “I will leave this place. I will go tomorrow and stay away until you come for me.”

  Tes Qua and Prairie Day looked at each other with resignation in their eyes. The decision had been made. “Where will you go, my brother?” Tes Qua asked.

  “Northwest, toward the land of the Iroquois. They will never suspect that I have headed for the lands of our enemy. I must lead those seeking to kill me far away from here,” Tyoga replied. “There is much to do before sunrise. I must get ready.”

  Tes Qua went over to Tyoga. The men embraced.

  Prairie Day rose, stepped into the shelter, and came out holding her leather travel bag. She folded the red blanket neatly and placed it inside the doeskin a-do-da.

  “What are you doing, Prairie Day?” Tyoga asked.

  “I am packing for the journey.”

  “Thank you. I will need that blanket where I am going.”

  “Then you had better pack one for yourself. This blanket is for me. I am going with you and there is nothing else to say.” With a solitary tear running down her cheek, she stepped assertively toward the men.

  Stunned at her adamancy, neither of them spoke.

  “You will need someone to care for you. I will cook and carry your belongings. I won’t slow you down. You can run ahead and I will catch up to wherever you are and make camp. I will not let you leave me behind.”

  Tyoga stepped over to her and caressed her cheek in the palm of his calloused hand. “Prairie Day, I would love to have you by my side, but you will slow me down. The journey will be hard and dangerous. I will not even be able to make a fire. I will lie down on the forest floor to sleep wherever I can find a soft patch to rest my head. I will eat only what I can carry and scavenge.”

  “Then, so will I.” She threw her arms around him and pulled herself close to his chest.

  Tyoga let her hold on to him for a long moment before gently clutching her shoulders in his strong hands and holding her away from him. “Prairie Day, you cannot come with me. I know that you want to help me, but don’t you see that if you come along there will be two lives that I must protect. My feelings for you will make me reckless. There are no second chances out there.” He tossed his head toward the wilderness.

  At this, Prairie Day fell to her knees and clutched his thigh. “Don’t leave me, Ty. Please, don’t leave me here. I am not alive unless you are near to me. You will tear my heart out if you go without me.”

  Tyoga knelt down and held her close. He had no words.

  He looked up at Tes Qua and motioned for him to come over.

  Her head was hanging down as Tes Qua picked her up off the ground. She sobbed quiety into the palms of her hands.

  Tyoga rose to his feet and put his arm on Tes Qua’s shoulder.

  “Goodbye, my brother,” Tes Qua said. “If you need me, just send for me. Wherever you are—I will come.”

  “I know you will,” Tyoga replied.

  Tes Qua turned with his arm around Prairie Day’s waist to begin the journey down the slope to the village below. They took two steps, before she stopped.

  “No,” she said. Standing up straight, she dried her eyes with the back of her hands. “Ty, you go rest now. We will go down to the village and I will get the supplies that you will need for your journey. I will come back and ready your gear and supplies and I will wake you when it is time for you to leave.” She went over to where she had dropped her knapsack to the ground, picked it up, and went inside the shelter to prepare Tyoga’s bed.

  Tes Qua and Prairie Day made the hour-long trek down the mountain trail in the dead of night. Without the night watch even noticing her presence, Prairie Day slipped into Tuckareegee and collected the supplies that Tyoga would need for his trip. It was nearly midnight when she arrived alone back at the outcropping.

  When her work was done, she stepped into the shelter and stood for a long time while watching Tyoga sleep.

  Yearning to feel him once again upon her naked skin, she tiptoed over to the buffalo robe upon which he slept, slowly untied the shoulderlaces of her tunic and allowed it to float silently to the floor. Lifting the soft elk hide blanket that covered him, she lay down beside him.

  Propping herself up on her elbow, she leaned over and whispered softly into his ear while he slept, “What I have done, has been done for you, my love. If I must live the rest of my life with but half a heart, it is a small price to pay for your happiness. I will love you forever, and will be with you always.” Closing her eyes, she moved so close to him that her lips nearly touched his ear. “Forgive me.”

  She closed her eyes. But did not sleep.

  Part Four

  Prosperity and Emptiness

  Chapter 41

  The Trek to Mattaponi

  Shawnee Chief Yellow Robe had honored the treaty forged by the bonds of marriage between his daughter, Winged Woman, and Gray Owl of the Ani-Unwiya, and did not exact revenge upon the people of Tuckareegee for Sunlei’s escape and the vicious attack upon his son.

  The target of the Shawnee chief’s fury remained Tyoga Weathersby. Yellow Robe was certain that Tyoga was somehow responsible for slitting Seven Arrows' throat even if it was not he who held the knife.

  He had not been fooled by Tyoga’s act to convince the People that he had left the Appalachians before Seven Arrows arrived to take Sunlei for his wife. At his order, war parties fanned out throughout the Appalachians to search for Tyoga. The Chief would not rest until his head was displayed upon a pike at the entrance to his lodge.

  Tyoga headed northwest toward the land of the Iroquois. He remained hidden in the deep hollows and unnamed valleys of the Appalachians while traveling along narrow deer paths and oftentimes slogging along knee-deep in mountain creeks and streams.

  As a means of escape, he traveled through the night, which was a dangerous practice used only by the most experienced woodsmen. The technique came at a high cost.

  His body’s demand for restorative nighttime sleep could only be denied for so long. When sleep finally did come, his slumber was so deep that it silenced the nocturnal cues that he relied upon to keep him alive. It very nearly cost him his life.

  The third day into his trek, Tyoga could travel no more. Seventy-two hours without any sleep was as much as his body could take. He desperately needed the deep nighttime sleep that refreshes and restores.

  The sun had set and the temperature was dropping fast when he came upon a damp, musty grotto hidden by evergreens and wild rose bushes. He found a dead pine bough and poked around inside the cavity to make sure no critters had made it their h
ome. Dropping to his belly, he crawled inside, wrapped himself in the warmth of the red wool blanket, and slept past sunrise.

  He awoke to the sounds of a Shawnee search party standing not two feet away from the entrance to the shrub-covered hiding place. He could have reached out and touched them. After several minutes, the Shawnee resumed their search without realizing that their prey had been but an arm’s length away.

  The close call made Tyoga realize that he could not continue traveling through the mountains like a hunted animal. He would most surely be caught if he continued on his present course.

  Tyoga looked up from the shallow creek he was wading through and said out loud in a voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve got to change the direction I’m headin’. It looks like he’s figured that I would head to the north, toward the land of the Iroquois. And that’s where they’re huntin’ for me.” He placed his hands on hips and skewed his mouth in annoyance. “Hmm. I never thought they would follow me north.”

  Tyoga surveyed the granite rise to the north. Deep within one of Appalachia’s hidden gorges, it was even difficult to see the sky through the dense treetop canopy.

  “Well,” he whispered. “I reckon I’ve got to climb to the top of this ridge and map me out a new course.”

  The slope was steep and covered with loose granite shards which made it like a wall of solid ice. One wrong step would send him sliding down to the bottom of the gorge. He had to take it slow and easy. Half way up the slope, it hit him.

  “They think that I’m headin’ northwest. I’ll go in the opposite direction. I’ll head southeast toward the colonies. Heading toward the whites is the last thing they will expect me to do. It’s the land of the Powhatans, the Algonquins and the Mattaponis. I’ll be heading away from the mountains but toward my American brothers—and the colonies. It is the perfect cover. They will never follow me there.”