1812: The Rivers of War tog-1

by Eric Flint

  Tiana went right over the side of her own canoe, almost capsizing it. Her brother's musket had been as heavy a caliber as Ross's rifle. Half standing as she'd been, poorly balanced, the recoil had sent her sailing.

  But she didn't let go of the musket. Tiana was almost as good a swimmer as her brothers, so she had her head back above the water within seconds. This time she'd remembered to close her mouth, too. She shook her head vigorously, to clear her eyes.

  Unfortunately, that shook loose her turban, which must have starting coming undone somewhere in the course of the fight. Tiana's hair was long, and black-and she never tied it back when she was wearing a turban. So, at the same time that she shook water out of her eyes, she shook her hair into them.

  By the time she clawed the hair aside, the two canoes were side by side. James was now standing, his legs spaced and maintaining his balance. He held his paddle as easily as a war club.

  One of the two remaining Chickasaws swung his own paddle. James parried the blow easily and then batted the man off the canoe. It was almost a gentle swipe. James simply wanted to clear him aside so he could concentrate on the second warrior, and he didn't want to risk losing his own balance.

  Fighting in a canoe was… tricky. As Tiana had just discovered.

  The Chickasaw turned his plunge off the canoe into a fairly graceful dive. He landed in the water not far from Tiana herself. But she paid him no attention, since her eyes were riveted on the battle between James and the last warrior in the canoe.

  James would win it, she was sure of that. She'd been told by old warriors that James was as good with a war club as any they'd ever seen-and a paddle makes for a pretty fair improvisation.

  But he never had to. Another gun went off, just as the Chickasaw was rearing up for a strike. A pistol, by the sound. That surprised Tiana, since-if she remembered everything clearly-by now Sequoyah would have had his musket reloaded.

  She looked over at the other canoe and saw that the shot had been fired by Nancy Ward. There was something grim and merciless about the old woman's eyes as she watched the last Chickasaw topple overboard.

  Nancy Ward was almost eighty years old. For a moment, Tiana was frozen by the sight. Half exultant-if she could be like that, at that age!-and half petrified. It was like watching some ancient, terrible creature, rising from its lair.

  The voice of John Ross broke the trance.

  "Tiana! Look out!"

  Startled, Tiana tore her eyes away and saw that the Chickasaw whom James had sent into the river was now swimming toward her.

  The half grin, half snarl on his painted face would have been enough to make clear his intentions. Even if he hadn't had his knife clenched between his teeth so that his hands would be free, allowing him to swim more quickly.

  Tiana had been in a lot of fights, the way girls will. A couple of them had been ferocious, with Tiana leaving her opponent unconscious. In one case, the person had received a broken arm.

  This had been her first real battle, however, fought with weapons and with deadly purpose. But of all the things that happened that day, this attack was the only one that made her truly furious.

  Why is he doing this?

  "You idiot!" she shrieked, as the man came up to her. His last breaststroke left his head completely exposed.

  Tiana was six feet tall, strong for her size, and a very good swimmer. A powerful thrust of her legs sent her up. She raised the musket out of the water, holding it in one hand.

  The Chickasaw's eyes widened. He hadn't spotted the musket.

  "Idiot!" she shrieked again. Her grip on the musket butt felt like iron. So did the butt strike itself, when it came down on the warrior's head.

  His eyes rolled up. Blood spurted from the corners of his mouth as his jaws clenched on the knife between his teeth.

  Tiana brought the butt up for another strike, but by the time she could kick her legs again to get into position, the Chickasaw was gone. She thought she might have felt his fingers tugging on one of her leggings, for just a moment, as he sank beneath the surface.

  But she wasn't sure. As hard as she'd hit him, he'd been too dazed to do anything that wasn't pure reflex. He'd probably drown, unless someone fished him out.

  Which Tiana had no intention of doing. She started swimming back to the canoe. Moving more awkwardly than she normally would have. Whatever else, she wasn't going to let go of the musket. There were monsters in the river.

  James hauled her aboard, none too gently. Just a powerful heave that sent her sprawling into the canoe, while he went back to paddling.

  "Next time," he growled, "don't stand up to fight in a canoe. Unless you know what you're doing. Which you don't."

  Tiana made no retort. She was too busy scrabbling to get her head above the side of the vessel, so she could see what was happening with the other enemy canoe.

  Nothing.

  It was now at least forty yards off. The three men left in it-she must have hit two of them, after all, with that first rifle shot-were just staring. Then, as if her gaze was the trigger, they suddenly started paddling away.

  Sequoyah had never fired again, she realized. She looked over and saw that the lame warrior was just sitting in his canoe, calmly and confidently, his musket ready. He'd been waiting for the enemy to come closer so he could kill one of them.

  But the Chickasaws had had enough.

  Shakily, but proudly, Tiana realized that this fight on the river was going to become a small legend of its own. Six Cherokees-one of them an old woman-had faced almost twice that number of enemies. And they'd left seven of them dead or badly wounded, while not suffering a single casualty of their own.

  She gloated too soon. The one and only casualty they suffered that day happened two seconds later. An arrow fired from the riverbank almost maimed her. Fortunately, the wicked arrowhead left only a gash on the back of her left hand, before slicing off into the water. If it had struck her wrist squarely, she'd have lost the hand.

  "You're lucky," Nancy Ward said to her later, once they came ashore several miles farther down the river.

  The old woman finished replacing Tiana's own quick dressing with an expert bandage. "It didn't cut any of the tendons. You'll have a scar there, for a while. But I think it'll eventually fade away."

  Tiana hoped it wouldn't, although she didn't say it aloud. Nancy Ward had been her heroine since she'd been a little girl. And now, Tiana had the visible proof that she wasn't unfit to travel in her company.

  "And don't get too swellheaded," Nancy murmured. " That's a much worse kind of wound. Most people never recover from it."

  "I won't," Tiana promised.

  Nancy patted her cheek. "Oh, yes, you will. Why shouldn't you? You were very brave, and very good-and you can take that from a woman who knows. Just don't let the swelling get too big, that's all."

  Alas, James must have heard the softly spoken words. He had very good hearing.

  "No chance of that," he chuckled. "The Raven'll shrink her head right down. Best-looking girl in John Jolly's band, and he won't pay any attention to her at all."

  She scowled at him. That was probably true, but…

  Her other brother was grinning at her, too! John had finally washed the splinters out of his eyes. Luckily, there didn't seem to be any permanent damage.

  "What are you looking at?" she demanded. "Now that looking doesn't do anybody any good."

  John's grin just widened. "Oh, how quick with a blade she is! What you'd expect, of course, from a great warrior woman. But you still shouldn't sneer at your brother, even if his own exploits didn't match yours."

  Tiana glared at both of them. "The two of you are making fun of me."

  "No, we're not," James said. To her surprise, his tone was firm and calm, not jocular. "We're just telling you the truth."

  "You should find a different husband," John agreed. "Colonneh isn't right for you."

  "Find me a better one, then!" Tiana snapped.

  James and John looked at each
other. Then smiled.

  She'd been afraid they would.

  "All right."

  "We will."

  TheRiversofWar

  CHAPTER 17

  JUNE 28, 1814

  Oothcaloga

  "Of course we had to bring our sister with us," James Rogers said firmly. "She needs a better education than she can get with the Moravians."

  He shot Sam a sly look. "She'd have been furious with us if we hadn't, seeing as how she insists that you're her future husband. But how can she manage that-you being a fancy officer now-if she doesn't get a proper American education?"

  Sam rolled his eyes.

  Tiana was the half sister of the Rogers brothers. He'd met her during the three years he'd lived with John Jolly and his people on their island in the Tennessee River. When he'd first arrived, Tiana had been ten years old and more or less oblivious to the sixteen-year-old white boy who'd dropped into their midst. By the time he'd left, however, she'd been thirteen and he'd been nineteen-and Cherokee girls married young. On the day he left, she'd publicly announced that she'd have him for a husband, when the time came.

  Sam would have laughed it off, except… Tiana was ferociously strong-willed. John Rogers had laughed, at the time, and Tiana had promptly knocked him off his feet. Even at thirteen, she was a big girl.

  In the weeks that had passed while Sam waited at Oothcaloga-even with such an informal party, the Cherokee notables insisted on lengthy discussions and extensive debates-James Rogers had made it back to John Jolly's island on the Tennessee. As planned, he'd picked up his brother John, who hadn't been at the Horseshoe because of a broken foot. Nothing spectacular, in the way of injuries-a horse had stepped on it.

  What Sam hadn't expected was that he'd bring back his sister, too. But Tiana was here now, sure enough. Packed for travel, and grinning ear to ear.

  Her father was off somewhere, on one of his mysterious-and probably illegal-expeditions. So he hadn't come. Neither had her uncle John Jolly. Sam's foster father usually didn't leave the island in the river where he'd created something of a refuge for his band of Cherokees. But it seemed that Jolly was in support of the notion also, even if-for the same reasons as Major Ridge-he didn't feel it would be wise for him to go to Washington himself. Jolly was a small chief, but he was still a chief.

  And, besides, his ties to his brother Tahlonteskee were well known, and Tahlonteskee was a major chief-a status he had not lost simply because he'd led his thousand Cherokees to settle in the land across the Mississippi River. The "Western Cherokees," as they were coming to be known, were still considered by everyone-including themselves-to be part of the Cherokee Nation.

  To Sam's absolute astonishment, however, Tiana had been accompanied by yet another woman. A woman who was so old that Sam was amazed she'd made the trip at all.

  Nancy Ward. Or Nan'yehi, to use her Cherokee name. The last-and some said, the greatest-of the Cherokee Ghighua. The title was sometimes translated into English as "Beloved Woman," and sometimes as "War Woman." However it was translated, the Ghighua occupied an extremely prestigious place among the matrilineal Cherokee, perhaps none more so than Nancy Ward.

  "Leave aside the girl's claims to be your future wife, Colonneh," Nancy told him quietly in private, that evening. "That's as may be-and you could do worse anyway. She's even good-looking. What's important is that she's willing to do it."

  "She has as much interest in further formal education as a she-bear," Sam complained. "John Jolly and Captain John practically had to hog-tie her to keep her in the Moravian school."

  The old woman grinned. "Stop exaggerating. She's not as big as a bear. Not quite. I admit she has something of a she-bear's temperament. You should have seen her in the fight on the river! Even better than me in my first battle, and I was two years older.

  "And so what? She'll be placed with Major Ridge's daughter Nancy, in whatever American school you find for them-and Nancy's just as strong-willed as Tiana, even if she's a lot quieter about it. She'll see to it that Tiana settles down, and even studies."

  The arguments of Nancy Ward-even the threats and entreaties of Tiana Rogers herself-Sam might have resisted. In truth, the problem wasn't that he found the prospect of Tiana's company unpleasant. Rather the opposite, in fact. The girl was good-looking, now that she was sixteen years old-downright beautiful, in fact-and Sam had always appreciated her intelligence and good humor.

  Yet…

  That was the problem. If Sam had intended to make his life among the Cherokee, Tiana would make him a splendid wife. But, he didn't plan to settle with the tribe. Even before the Horseshoe Bend, Sam's ambitions had been turned elsewhere.

  Now, with Andrew Jackson's friendship and patronage, he had the prospect of a career in the political arena, at the national level. Such a career, however, required a suitable wife-which no Cherokee girl, no matter how accomplished, would be considered by proper American society.

  Sam might regret that fact, but a fact it remained nonetheless. And he wasn't about to dishonor himself by playing with Tiana's emotions, as tempting as that might be. He'd never be able to look at himself in a mirror again.

  "I don't know…" he muttered feebly.

  "Do it," Nancy insisted.

  Despite her age, Nancy Ward's voice was still firm-and her tone, unwavering. That wasn't surprising, really, given the way she'd first earned her position as Ghighua in the battle of Taliwa.

  Since then, however, she had carved out a reputation as a shrewd diplomat and strategist for the entire Cherokee Nation. Ward was the leader of the women's council and she had a voice in the general council of the chiefs. For decades now, she'd advocated a policy of trying to find some sort of suitable accommodation with the American settlers, and had proven to be flexible in her methods. No Cherokee doubted her devotion to the nation, but she sometimes left them confused by her subtlety.

  "Do it," she repeated. Then, giving Sam a considering look through very shrewd eyes, she added: "The girl's marital ambitions are irrelevant. So are yours, Colonneh. What matters here isn't Tiana anyway, but Major Ridge's children. It's Major Ridge who's the key. That's the reason I came down here at all. To talk to him. "

  Sam had wondered about that. The woman normally didn't leave her home at Chota any longer.

  "You're not coming with us to Washington, then?" he asked cautiously, doing his best not to let his relief show. As hale and healthy as Nancy was, she was still close to eighty years old, and the trip to the capital would be a long and arduous one.

  "At my age? Don't be silly." Nancy chuckled drily. "You're worrying too much, for a youngster. It'll work out, well enough. For one thing, I think Ridge's daughter Nancy is formidable in her own manner. She may even be able to keep Tiana from braining some stupid white girl."

  The old woman shook her head. "Of which there are a multitude. How did those fools ever let their men shackle them so?"

  Sam rubbed his jaw.

  And that was another problem! White men and Cherokees had radically different notions of the proper place of women. One of the biggest complaints among the crusty and conservative Cherokee shamans, in fact, was that Cherokee women who married white men became unnaturally submissive.

  There was some truth to the charge, too, although few if any Cherokee women would ever be as submissive as most white women were. Sam knew of one Methodist preacher who regularly beat his wife with a horsewhip. The wife was white herself, of course. A wife among the Cherokee would never tolerate such treatment-and, even if she were inclined to, her brothers and uncles and cousins would soon wreak their vengeance on the husband.

  Their actions would be supported by Cherokee law and custom, too. In white society, a woman became essentially her husband's chattel after marriage. If he divorced her, she would be left penniless and destitute. In Cherokee society, in the event of divorce, the wife kept all the property and the husband went on his way, taking only his personal belongings.

  White Americans were often astonished to
learn that a fair number of white women who'd been captured by Indians refused to return to white society after they were "rescued." But Sam wasn't, not with his knowledge of the frontier. To be sure, women of America's eastern gentility would be appalled at the living conditions of the Cherokee, much less the prospect of having a red-skinned husband. But most captured white women were frontier people themselves, and their conditions, living in primitive log cabins, were essentially no better than those of Cherokees.

  The main difference was that while a Cherokee husband was just as likely to get drunk as a white one-probably even more likely, in truth-he wouldn't beat her.

  Something of his gloomy thoughts must have been evident in his expression. Nancy Ward's old eyes seemed to get a little twinkle in them.

  "Our people are not so different as all that, young Colonneh. Do not forget that I married a white man after Kingfisher died. Bryant Ward, from whom I took my new last name in the American way, and had children by him. It can be done. Even if-" She laughed. "That Scots-Irish man sometimes drove me crazy, the way they will."

  Scots-Irish. Sam's own ancestry, as well as Jackson's and that of most white frontiersmen. A hard people, often a harsh one, shaped by centuries of conflict. As he'd said to the general, not very far removed from barbarism themselves.

  But, like the Indians, always a brave folk. Perhaps, out of that mutual courage, something might be done. Granted, every other characteristic of the two nations worked against what he was trying to accomplish. Pigheadedness, first and foremost. The Scots-Irish even worse than the Cherokee.

  "All right," he sighed. He didn't really have a choice, anyway. "I'll give it a try."

  TheRiversofWar

  Part IV

  THE POTOMAC

  TheRiversofWar

  CHAPTER 18

  AUGUST 24, 1814

  Washington, D.C.

  Weeks later, they finally arrived at the outskirts of Washington. With no major problems or incidents along the way, to Sam's surprise. But just when he thought the worst was past, all hell seemed to be breaking loose.