by H L Grandin
There had been shadowy talk in the village about an ancestor who had been kidnapped by fur trappers while foraging in the woods who was then sold to the Pontiacs in southern Canada. When the woman was finally reunited with her Uni-Unwiya family, her sandy-haired, three-year-old daughter was accepted into the clan as one of their own. Through the generations, a blue-eyed or light haired Amansoquath served as a reminder of their ancestor’s cruel treatment at the hands of the white man. But, in the Indian way, all were accepted as members of the tribe.
In his mind’s eye, Tyoga saw her bend over to pick up one of the baby ducklings she found in a nest several yards away from the bank of the pool.
“Look, Ty. Tes ‘A, look,” she chirped excitedly. “Baby ducks! Come and see!”
“Let ‘em be, Sunlei,” Tes Qua yelled from the far side of the pool.
At the frenzied cackling of the mother hen, Sunlei hurriedly put the duckling back into the nest, took a step down onto the rocky outcropping and dove into the blue-green water of the swimming hole.
“Ty, the water’s freezing.” Sunlei began swimming toward the shore. “I’m getting out!”
“Oh, no, you ain’t,” Tyoga playfully replied.
Tyoga dove down, grabbed her ankle and pulled her down into the crystal clear turquoise water.
Releasing his grip, he let her swim to the surface, all the while holding a protective hand beneath the soles of her scissor-kicking feet. If she ran out of strength before reaching the surface, he was ready with a helping hand. Her legs were muscular and strong. He watched her legs frantically propel her to the surface. Her bronze skin glistened in the clear cool water as the noonday sun ignited her arching back with flashing amber hues. He gave a gentle shove just as her head broke the water’s surface.
He reached out to put his arm around her waist and pull her naked body to his to keep her head above water. Coughing and spitting water at him, her protests about being nearly drowned were met with the laughter borne of a friendship ordained in unquestioned devotion. Tyoga would permit no harm to come to Sunlei as long as he held her in his arms.
More than knowing it, she felt it in his embrace.
Fighting to break from his grasp, Sunlei screamed, “You almost drowned me, Ty!”
“No, Sunlei. To hi ju—you’re fine.”
Tyoga remembered hearing Tes Qua laughing while tossing stones into the water around them from the bank.
“Ha le wi s ta, Tes Qua!” (Stop it) Sunlei screamed at her brother.
He recalled how she suddenly stopped struggling to let him hold her afloat.
Quietly, their eyes met. By the time Sunlei finally looked away, their relationship had been forever changed.
Tyoga gripped the handles of the litter with such force that he felt the blisters on his hands burst when he recalled the magic of that special moment being shattered by the splash of a large stone hitting the water menacingly close to their heads.
Glancing up at the rocky rim of the pool, Tyoga saw the outline of their tiny tormentor, Seven Arrows. Two years younger than Tyoga and Tes Qua, the eldest son of Chief Yellow Robe of the South Fork Shawnee reveled in antagonizing his older Cherokee peers with impudence that he was certain protected him from reprisal. Careful to never travel alone, he was surrounded by a cadre of obedient pawns who submitted to his orders without question or hesitation. His derisive laughter descended from the banks of the sunken pool to fill the crater with sarcastic disdain.
Tyoga recalled the feeling in the pit of his stomach as their eyes locked in a seething sizzle. His face contorting into a menacing grimace, Seven Arrows bent over to pick up another large stone. Tyoga felt his eyes well with the anger of the recollection.
“Ne yeah ya at alo, descop-te,” (Don’t touch that stone) Tyoga cried out. When he finished the words he looked over to the far side of the pool where Tes Qua had been standing. He was nowhere to be seen.
Ignoring Tyoga’s command, Seven Arrows continued with his taunts.
“Sunlei, why are you in the arms of the smelly white dog? You should be with a strong Shawnee brave.” He smacked his open palm against his naked chest. “Move away from the white dog and let me see if he can catch this little stone.”
At these words Tyoga gently pushed Sunlei toward the shore. At the bank with only two kicks, she lifted herself from the pool.
Tyoga floated on his back and closed his eyes. “Seven Arrows,” he said, “throw the stone. Go ahead and throw the stone at me if you dare.”
At this challenge, Seven Arrows lifted the heavy stone over his head with both hands. Tyoga did not change his posture but continued floating gently on the surface of the pool.
“But you will not throw the stone,” he said. “You will not throw the stone because you are a coward. Look around you, Seven Arrows. You are a coward standing alone.”
Seven Arrows’s eyes darted all around the pool and then toward the woods behind him. He did not know that his three companions had scurried away at the not-so-gentle urging of Tes Qua Ta Wa, who now prowled the woods behind him.
“So, little coward, what will it be?” Tyoga teased. “Are you brave enough to throw the stone down on me as I float helplessly in the pool? Or will you drop the stone and run after your brave friends?”
Tyoga remembered the look in Seven Arrows’ eyes when he dropped the stone to his feet.
Bowing his head, Seven Arrows walked slowly toward the dense underbrush before he paused and turned toward the pool. “You will remember this day, Tyoga Weathersby. What you have begun today can only be ended by me. You will never know when or where.”
Tyoga could hear the joyous laughter when Tes Qua and Sunlei jumped in the pool when they thought that Seven Arrows had left them in peace to enjoy the rest of the day. The three frolicked together secure in the special bond of friendship their shared encounter with Seven Arrows served to strengthen.
After a while Tes Qua asked, “Is anyone getting hungry?”
“Yeah. A gi yo si,” (I could eat.) Tyoga replied.
“I have some berries in my pouch. Let’s catch some fish and have lunch,” Sunlei said.
“Sure.” Tyoga pushed her toward the shore. “Tes Qua, you start the fire. I’ll get the fish.”
The cool clear water enveloped his body when he propelled himself toward the bottom of the pool where schools of perch darted about like flocks of sparrows. His ears began to ring with the sound of Sunlei’s cries when he recalled breaching the surface with two perch wriggling at the end of his makeshift lance.
After throwing his lance to the shore, he jumped out of the water and ran to where Sunlei was kneeling in her brother’s arms. Tes Qua looked up at Tyoga with sad, confused eyes while he wrapped his other arm around Sunlei.
Under the stone that Seven Arrows had raised above his head to fling down at Tyoga were the crushed remains of the five baby ducks. Resting next to the nest was the mother hen, her decapitated head nowhere to be seen.
His ears burned with the sound of Seven Arrows’s cruel laughter echoing in his head.
The snapping of the cross-stays was violent and sudden. Tyoga planted both heels in the soft earth of the trail, and strained to keep the sled from pitching Tes Qua to the ground. It was the second time that he had fallen to his knees. He steadied himself and slowly lowered the travois to the ground. The sudden jerking awakened Tes Qua.
“E s gi ne hv si.” (I’m thirsty.) Tes Qua struggled to get the words out of his parched mouth and cracking lips.
“I’ll get you some water, Tes. Hold on.”
When Tyoga returned from the stream, Tes Qua had passed out again. He lifted his friend’s head and gave him a drink of the cool water. Through eyes dulled by fatigue and pain, Tes Qua looked at Tyoga with a stare that focused far away. All he said was, “Da gi y ‘we ga.” (I’m tired) His eyes closed. His body went limp.
Time was growing short.
The repairs to the travois were easy to make, and within minutesTyoga was once again straining
to pull his friend to safety.
It was the middle of the night, when the woods grow cold and dark. Successful predators had eaten and gone to sleep. Those that had not were still on the hunt and desperate for food.
The blisters on Tyoga’s hands had burst hours ago, and now they were bleeding. His hands were on fire. His right moccasin was gone. The wound on his thigh had started bleeding again. Somewhere along the trail, the trapper’s knife had fallen out from his belt. He was alone, injured, and defenseless.
Still, he marched on.
He lifted his feet in mechanical repetition without feeling them plant and propel him forward. His mind wandered back to those cool autumn nights when he used to huddle close to the fireplace in his family’s South Henge cabin to listen to the stories his father would tell him and his brother, Davy, about Grandpa Joshia Weathersby.
Filled with the many hardships his grandfather endured bringing his young family across the ocean to settle in an untamed New World, his stories rooted the Weathersbys to the land, and solidified their longstanding relationship with the Ani-Unwiya. They explained the deeper truth that bound the young boys’ lives together. The relationship between their two families had been built upon a foundation rooted in ancestral honor, courage and brotherhood.
Tyoga would honor that tradition—or die trying.
Chapter 8
Rescued
Tyoga awoke to the cackling shrieks of fussy morning crows. Sometime during the night, exhaustion had finally overcome the young man. He didn’t remember stopping. He didn’t remember placing the sled on a bed of moss, nor curling up along side his bloodied friend and passing out.
Tyoga rubbed the sleep from his eyes and checked on Tes Qua. He was shivering with fever and dripping with sweat. Seeing that he had succumbed to fatigue near a stream, he pulled some clean maple leaves from low lying branches, soaked them in the water, and touched the wet leaves to Tes Qua’s dry, cracked lips. He did not awaken to drink.
As soon as he noticed the sudden quiet, Tyoga dropped to his stomach beside his friend. The birds had stopped their morning chatter and the only sound was the rustling of the breeze through the pines. Off in the distance, he heard what he thought was the sound of human voices over the rise. He remained perfectly still.
As the voices grew fainter, the terror that numbed his hands at the realization that someone was headed their way was replaced with the terrifying thought that maybe they weren’t. He had to know. With the effort that it takes to move toward the unknown, he gathered himself and began moving quickly and quietly through the underbrush. Staring into the distance toward the voices, he instinctively placed his bare feet on the mossy patches on the north side of the trees to keep from alerting the party to his presence. He would only have seconds to decide whether it was help or harm that was on the other side of the hill.
He listened.
He couldn’t hear the voices any more.
As he got to the top of the ridge, he caught a glimpse of four or five men rounding a bend that looped down to the stream on the other side. He could tell by their gait and the confidence with which they moved that they were seasoned warriors, but he was too far away to distinguish the tribe or village of their origin.
Fear of being left alone with his dying friend overwhelmed reason.
Standing on tiptoe on the very crest of the ridge he shouted out as loudly as he could, “O-si-yo!” (Help!)
The men stopped.
Jumping up on a hickory stump, he shouted again. This time he heard them crash through the brush as they ran towards him.
Falling to his knees atop the stump, he repeated in a failing voice, “O-si-yo.”
He didn’t care who they were or from what village or tribe they hailed.
He was spent. His spirit was exhausted.
Sitting back on his haunches, he said again, “O-si-yo.”
When the men got to his side, they found Tyoga sitting with his eyes closed, shoulders slumped, head bowed and his raw swoolen hands, palms up, resting on his thighs whispering, “O-si-yo.”
Without a word, one of the braves folded the shaking Tyoga in his arms while the others rushed to where Tes Qua lay next to the stream in the gultch below.
He felt a strong thick palm caress his cheek and looked up into the kind gentle face of Yo-nev ga-do-ga (Standing Bear) the medicine man.
They were saved.
Chapter 9
Recovery
Tes Qua slipped in and out of consciousness for days. The medicine man had cured animal bites and skin rashes; lanced boils and set broken bones. He had treated braves returning from battle by cutting arrowheads from organs and limbs, binding open wounds, treating the fevers that frequently followed infection and illness. Never before had Yo-nev ga-do-ga’s skills been so ardently tested.
He administered willow bark and Yarrow tea to battle Tes Qua’s fever while his body fought the infection from the bear trap wounds and the bites inflicted by the wolves. He managed Tes ‘A’s pain with a bittersweet herbal tea that acted as a powerful sedative. A salve of hog lard mixed with greenbrier leaves and bark controlled the bleeding.
After several days it became apparent that the mangled ankle and broken leg, which included torn sinews and slashed tendons, were beyond the means of a Native American medicine man. Yo-nev ga-do-ga knew that he would have to rely upon the white mans’ medicine to repair Tes Qua’s injured leg. He asked Ani-gilo-hi (Hair Hanging Down) to go for Tyoga’s mother, Emma.
Tyoga’s grandmother, Rebecca Weathersby, was the daughter of Jacob Entwhistle, a reknown physician in Chenowith on Moor in Southern England. Rebecca had grown up watching her father tend to the ill and seriously injured. She brought with her to the New World herbal remedies, bleeding instruments, and the necessities to fight inflection and close wounds with needle and thread—a concept foreign to Native Americans. In her time, she had been known throughout the region for her medical knowledge and skills. Rebecca had been midwife, dentist, herbalist and bone setter for the settlers and tribes that dotted the Appalachians. She had taught her daughter-in-law, Emma, everything that she knew about the healing arts.
Emma was more than willing to come to the Ani-Unwiya village to tend to the injuries of her son’s Indian brother. She reattached torn tendons, repaired severed muscles, and stitched torn skin. The wound was dressed with linen binding wrapped around hickory splints to stabilize the damaged joint. The rest was up to Tes Qua and E-do-da (God).
While the worry surrounding Tes Qua’s recovery was palpable throughout the village, the talk around the lodge fires in the evening when the elders passed the pipe was of the battle young Tyoga had waged with the leader of the Runion pack. Although Tyoga did not share the events of that night with anyone but Sunlei, Tes Qua told his father and the other elders about the savage encounter. The People spoke in hushed reverent tones about the magic that had infused their white brother’s soul. They could see how the spirit-life he now shared with Wahaya-Wacon (the spirit-wolf, the great-wolf, a descriptor that confers a spritual component to greatness) had transformed him.
Since the battle on the ridge, Tyoga began to see the world through the eyes of an observer—at once engaged, but oddly apart. He experienced the natural world not in terms of sight and sound, but rather in the context of time, space and dimension. Those around him revealed themselves not in the actions observed by others, but in the subtlety of expression, carriage and gait. Deception betrayed by texture, tone, and scent, honesty revealed by sincerity of eye and crease of brow. People revealed themselves in myriad ways, unknown even unto themselves— and he wondered why others couldn’t see.
Days went by while Tes Qua fought for his life. Tyoga and Sunlei never left his side. By day, they tended to his needs and bodily functions. By night, they slept by his side bathed in the warmth of the fire and confident in the gentle ease of lying in each other’s arms.
“Ty, et ta yaheh?” (Are you asleep?) While Sunlei spoke English well, she and Ty always spoke
in Tsalagie when they were by themselves.
Tyoga opened his eyes and saw that Sunlei was snuggled so close to him that her forehead nearly touched his lips. The warmth from her body radiated through the collar of her doeskin tunic, carrying the sweet scent of cinnamon and sandlewood. The fire flickered silently in the center of the lodge and the crickets and tree frogs filled the night air with a reassuring stuccato sizzle.
Tyoga inhaled deeply and replied, “No. I’m awake.”
Sunlei wiggled closer to Tyoga and he draped his right arm around her. They breathed in unison for a long while.
Sunlei whispered, “Ty, do you think that my brother be all right?”
He didn’t answer right away. He thought back to that night and the horrific battle that both of them had been through. He was amazed that Tes Qua had survived at all. He propped himself up on his left elbow and turned his head toward Tes Qua.
“Tes is strong,” Tyoga replied. “You should have seen him fight the wolves, Sunlei. Even with his leg still caught in the trap, he saved my life with a toss of a tomahawk. He’s strong and he’ll never give up.”
While reassured by his words, Sunlei knew Tyoga so well that she was certain that he wasn’t saying what was really on his mind. She let it go. He would tell her when he was ready.
“Ty,” she began in that halting voice that indicates reticence to continue, “the People say that you defeated the wolf pack because the great spirits willed it to be so. They say that you now have strong medicine and will be a great man someday.”
Tyoga got up and threw some ceder onto the fire. The flames sent shadows dancing up the walls of the lodge, and illuminated Sunlei’s face in the richness of a pastel amber glow. He sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of the fire and stared into the flames. He remained silent for a long time.