by Beth Trissel
"As you like.” He took Charity's hand, and ushered her from the snug room and out past rows of bark covered lodges.
"Not so fast,” she pleaded.
He slowed. “Forgive me. I forgot."
"Someday I will race you again."
"Like the deer,” he said.
The sun was an orange ball slipping behind the trees. “I can't believe we've been here so short a time. I hate to go."
"You did not wish to come."
"Maybe it will be the same for you at your father's."
He shook his head. “I am Shawnee. Never will I forget. This is where I belong."
"We will return, Mechee."
"I fear you will become accustomed to English life and wish to stay."
"I will go where my husband takes me."
"In the planting moon, we will return here."
"I shall be swollen with child by then, Wyshetche."
He smiled through the pain in his eyes. “I will find a big horse to carry you."
They walked on through the blue twilight and saw Colin in the grassy enclosure with the horses. James was perched on Stuart's back, while he rubbed the gelding down. He waved as they approached. Dusk didn't fully conceal his troubled eyes.
"I'm nearly finished here. I've bid farewell to Muga and Posetha, even Outhowwa. I never thought I'd be doing that."
James was glum. “I wanted to be a warrior."
"So did I, lad."
"If I can't be one, I want to live with you, Uncle Papa."
Colin lifted the little boy from Stuart and hugged him before standing him on the ground. “We've been all through this, James. You can visit us, but your mama needs you."
"Mama don't let me have no fun."
"She's staying with your Uncle Robin now. You like him,” Charity coaxed.
"I like Uncle Papa and Wicomechee better. It's not fair Lily gets to live with them and the new grandfather."
"Leaving here won't be easy for any of us. Wait until you discover the joy of breeches, NiSawsawh,” Colin said.
Charity slipped her fingers under Stuart's mane to warm them. “It can't be all that bad."
"One gets used to it, as you will to corsets."
"Not those. I hated stays."
"All proper ladies wear them, little sister."
"I don't know the first thing about being a proper lady."
A smile lightened Wicomechee's expression. He leaned against the docile horse. “Wear what you like. I shall."
"Oh, no,” Colin said. “Your father's not going to allow us to go about dressed as we are now. Charity will have to put Netathwe's creation aside and you must adjust to breeches. I refuse to touch a wig. Riding boots aren't bad, though."
"Perhaps I could abide boots.” Wicomechee's tone held little joy at the prospect.
"Boots would be fine,” James offered.
Wicomechee tousled his hair. “You shall have a pair."
Stars appeared overhead and the night air grew chill. “We should return to the wickon,” Colin said, but neither man made a move. Sensing their desire to linger, Charity snuggled against Wicomechee as bright stars filled the cold night.
Eyes of the Wolf appeared in the blackness with the stealth of the animal he was named for. He stood with them, gazing up into the sky. “Tomorrow you go from me."
Colin sighed. “As you knew we would."
"My heart is heavy to see you go, yet you must."
"This is much to bear, Nimesoomtha,” Wicomechee said.
"Yet, you must learn of English ways. These people will only increase in our land. To better understand them is useful for you and your people when you return."
"For Red Bird, for you, I will do this."
"Good. Is there fear also in you, Waupee?"
"Now that the time has come, I am almost afraid to return to that life,” Colin admitted.
"Hold fast to the courage I saw in your eyes the day I took you captive. Remember your Shawnee brothers."
"I swear to you, before God, my hand will never be lifted against my brothers if our people war again."
"I am glad you speak this, for they will. Ouishi catoui. Be strong."
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Author's Note
Wicomechee, the hero in RED BIRD'S SONG, was a Shawnee warrior who lived early in the nineteenth century. The Moffetts, an early Valley family to whom I'm related, include a reference to him in their genealogy. His father, John Moffett, was captured by the Shawnee at the age of eight and adopted into the tribe. It is said that John was a boyhood companion to the great chief Tecumseh. Forced to return to his English family as the result of Wayne's treaty (1794), John, then a young man, ran back to the Indians and wed a Shawnee woman. For years he tried to live in two worlds, eventually opting for the white one.
Sometime after John Moffett's removal from the tribe, a Moffett niece stopped at a trading post along the Mississippi and was eagerly examined by an elderly Shawnee woman who exclaimed, “Moffett, Moffett, you are Moffett!"
It seems she recognized the family resemblance, still evident in the Moffetts to this day. A conversation was struck between both women. John Moffett's abandoned Shawnee wife related her bereavement at his leaving, and the name of her son, Wicomechee, which means, ‘his father left him.'
Historian Joseph A. Waddell records this account in The Annals of Augusta County. The attack at the opening of RED BIRD'S SONG is also based on an attack that occurred to my Shenandoah Valley ancestors and is recorded by Waddell.
Historian Waddell also notes that during the Black Hawk Wars Wicomechee recovered the captive daughters of a Dr. Hull and brought them safely into camp, which reminds me of Hawkeye in The Last of the Mohicans.
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A few words from the author...
I am a member of RWA(R), Virginia Romance Writers, For The Heart Romance Writers, and Celtic Hearts Romance Writers. My work has finaled in a number of chapter contests, including the 2007 Golden Pen. I am also a 2008 Golden Heart Finalist in the Historical Category.
I am married to my high school sweetheart and live on a farm in the heart of the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia with children and multiple animals. The beauty of the valley is an inspiration, as are my roots, which go well back into Virginia's history.
My fascination with the colonial frontier and the Shawnee Indians is an early and abiding one. My English and Scot-Irish ancestors had interactions with this tribe, including family members taken captive. Intrigued with all things Celtic, much of my writing features the Scot-Irish who settled the valley and spread into the mountains and the Carolinas. This absorption with early America also extends to the high drama of the Revolution and ancestors who fought and loved on both sides of that sweeping conflict.
Moreover, I am ever intrigued by ghost stories, and Virginia has more tales than any other state. I find myself asking if the folk who've gone before us are truly gone, or do some still have unfinished business in this realm? And what of the young lovers whose time was tragically cut short, do they somehow find a way? Love conquers all, so I answer ‘yes.'
Visit Beth at www.bethtrissel.com
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Table of Contents
Praise for Beth Trissel
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
&
nbsp; Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Author's Note
A few words from the author...
Thank you for purchasing
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