by Gen Bailey
“Yes,” said Marisa, “of course. But you know, there may come a time when there are too many settlements that surround you, too many prying eyes, too many wagging tongues. If that ever happens, come see us. There will always be a place for you with us.”
Tears stung at the back of Sarah’s eyes, and apparently Marisa felt much the same, for her eyes were shining and blinking.
“I will miss you, my friend,” said Marisa.
“And I will miss you. But I do have something for you.”
“You do?”
“Aye, I do.” Reaching into her bag, Sarah pulled out a letter, which had been given to her by Constable Phelps.
“Forme?”
“Aye.”
“What is it?” Marisa asked as she broke the seal to read the letter. “Oh, my,” she said. “Did you know this?”
“I fear I did.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I wanted you to read it for yourself. No one came forward to claim the estate. Therefore, Constable Phelps has ruled that John Rathburn’s estate shall become yours.”
Marisa wiped a hand over her forehead. “But I don’t want it. Albany is not a place where Black Eagle and I will thrive. I’m sure you understand why that is.”
“That I do.”
“But I think I know someone who would do the property good.”
“You do?”
“That I do. Mrs. Stanton, our old cook. Did you know that despite John Rathburn, she helped me?”
“She helped me also.”
“Yes. I think I will convey the property to her … or at least I will try to. Sarah, if I write a note to Constable Phelps, would it be too out of the way for you to deliver it to him?”
“No trouble at all.”
Marisa grinned and hand in hand, Sarah smiled back at her.
“I think,” said Sarah, “that always we’ll be friends. John Rathburn might have been insane, as well as a scoundrel and all sorts of other bad things, but he did one good deed in his life: He brought us together.”
They hugged. And this time it wasn’t a simple matter of the sting of tears that threatened at the back of their eyes. This time, the tears flowed openly and with joy down both of their cheeks.
“Areyou certain that you’ll be happy settling on our farm in Pennsylvania?”
“Wherever you are, my wife, I will be delighted and pleased to be there with you,” said White Thunder. “Besides, if we decide we like it very little, we can always pick up our roots and join your friend.”
White Thunder and Sarah had packed their belongings that very morning, and had left the Seneca town of Geneseo, heading back east. Meanwhile, Black Eagle and Marisa had begun their journey onward into the west. Parting had been difficult for the two women, but at last their men had pulled them apart, and saying their goodbyes, each couple had set off on their own separate path.
“Yes, if we don’t like it, we can always go farther west. But if we could stay for a while on the land my parents originally purchased, I think it would honor them.”
“And so it will be,” said White Thunder. “Always will we love. And so long as I live, I give you all of me that there is to give.”
“I love you,” Sarah said.
“Always will it be,” whispered a voice on the air. It was Wild Mint. “Thank you, White Thunder. Thank you, Miss Sarah. Always will you two love. Always will I remember your kindness to me. And now I leave you to go on my way. Dahneh hah. It is fi nished.”
Historical Note
I hope you will bear with me as I take literary license with a bit of history. The Code of Handsome Lake didn’t originate until close to the end of the 1700s, which would place it around forty years after our story takes place. Handsome Lake (1735-1815) was a religious prophet who was born in the town of Caughnawaga on the Genesee River.
When I read of this story of how the white race came to America, a part of Handsome Lake’s prophesy, I found it so engaging that I knew it would probably find its way into the story, which, of course, it did.
My thanks to Arthur C. Parker, author of The Code of Handsome Lake, the Seneca Prophet, and to Fintan O’Toole, author of White Savage, for first bringing my attention to this legend.
Gen Bailey
Remarks from Benjamin Franklin Regarding the American Indian
“Savages we call them, because their Manners differ from ours, which we think the Perfection of Civility. They think the same of theirs.”
“The Indian Men when young are Hunters and Warriors; when old, Counsellors; for all their Government is by Counsel of the Sages; there is no Force there are no Prisons, no Officers to compel Obedience, or inflict Punishment.—Hence they generally study Oratory; the best Speaker having the most Influence. The Indian Women till the Ground, dress the Food, nurse and bring up the Children, & preserve & hand down to Posterity the Memory of public Transactions. These Employments of Men and Women are accounted natural & honorable. Having few artificial Wants, they have abundance of Leisure for Improvement by Conversation. Our laborious Manner of Life compar’d with theirs, they esteem slavish & base; and the Learning on which we value ourselves, they regard as frivolous & useless …”
“Having frequent Occasions to hold public Councils, they have acquired great Order and Decency in conducting them. The old Men sit in the foremost Ranks, the Warriors in the next, and the Women & Children in the hindmost. The Business of the Women is to take exact Notice of what passes, imprint it in their Memories, for they have no Writing, and communicate it to their Children. They are the Records of the Councils, and they preserve Traditions of the Stipulations in Treaties 100 Years back, which when we compare with our Writings we always find exact. He that would speak rises. The rest observe a profound Silence. When he has finish’d and sits down; they leave him 5 or 6 Minutes to recollect, that if he has omitted any thing he intended to say, or has any thing to add, he may rise again and deliver it. To interrupt another, even in common Conversation, is reckon’d highly indecent. How different this is, from the Conduct of a polite British House of Commons where scarce every person without some confusion, that makes the Speaker hoarse in calling to Order and how different from the Mode of Conversation in many polite Companies of Europe, where if you do not deliver your Sentence with great Rapidity, you are cut off in the middle of it by the Impatients Loquacity of those you converse with, and never suffer’d to finish it—”
“When any of them come into our Towns, our People are apt to croud round them, gaze upon them, & incommode them where they desire to be private; this they esteem great Rudeness, the Effect of & Want of Instruction in the Rules of Civility & good Manners. We have, say they, as much Curiosity as you, and when you come into our Towns, we wish for Opportunities of looking at you; but for this purpose we hide our Selves behind Bushes where you are to pass, and never intrude ourselves into your Company—”
“Their Manner of entering one anothers villages has likewise its Rules. It is reckon’d uncivil in travelling Strangers to enter a Village abruptly, without giving Notice of their Approach. Therefore as soon as they arrive within Hearing, they stop & hollow, remaining there till invited to enter. Two old Men usually come out to them, and lead them in. There is in every Village a vacant Dwelling called the Strangers House. Here they are plac’d, while the old Men go round from Hut to Hut, acquainting the Inhabitants that Strangers are arriv’d who are probably hungry & weary; and every one sends them what he can spare of Victuals & Skins to repose on. When the Strangers are refresh’d, Pipes & Tobacco are brought, and then, but not before, Conversation begins with Enquiries who they are, whither bound, what News, &c, and it usually ends with Offers of Service if the Strangers have occasions of Guides or any Necessaries for continuing their Journey and nothing is exacted for the Entertainment.”
Benjamin Franklin, 1782-1783
Source: www.wampumchronicles.com/benfranklin.html
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