Indian Captive by Lois Lenski
Then Squirrel Woman appeared from nowhere. Squirrel Woman saw the white girl captive in the midst of the men who had met for secret counsel. With scowling looks, she descended upon Molly and pulled her to one side.
“She won’t hurt you, will she?” demanded the Englishman.
The words were the same as those spoken by the man in blue at Fort Duquesne. Why did the pale-faces always doubt the Indians and suspect them of cruelty and unkindness? Didn’t they know that a captive was treated the same as an Indian child? Didn’t they know how kind the Indians were to their own people?
Molly looked from Squirrel Woman’s scowling face into the Englishman’s friendly one, but she could find no English words to say. And even if she could find the words, she wondered if she could make him understand.
With a feeling of happy relief, she walked away with the Indian woman, ready for whatever punishment might come.
15
The Rattlesnake
“DON’T CATCH THAT LITTLE fish by mistake!” cried Molly. “He wouldn’t taste good for supper.”
“I won’t!” answered Turkey Feather.
Molly watched Blue Jay swim. He was a real boy already. How well he deserved his new name, Blue Trout, for he slipped through the water as easily as a fish. From the very first moment when Turkey Feather put him in deep water, keeping his hand under his chest, Blue Trout had begun to paddle with his hands and kick out with his feet. Now he swam alone, for all the world like a little trout.
“He’ll soon be shooting fish like you,” said Molly.
“It won’t be long!” cried Turkey Feather.
A group of boys waded in the shallow waters at the river side. Turkey Feather was shooting small fish with his bow and arrow, while Chipmunk and Woodchuck reached down under the stones to the places where the fish lay hidden and pulled them out with their hands.
“Soon Blue Jay will be shooting with a boy’s bow and arrow!” said Molly.
“But he’ll have to wait many moons before he gets a man’s,” added Turkey Feather.
“And after that, in no time at all, he’ll grow up to be a great hunter and a warrior!” cried Molly.
Two canoes came silently round the bend in the river. They were paddled by Shining Star and Squirrel Woman and were loaded with children.
“Where are you going?” called Turkey Feather.
“To the hills to pick huckleberries,” answered Shining Star. “We want Corn Tassel. Do you boys want to go, too?”
Turkey Feather looked at the other boys, who shook their heads. “Let the girls pick berries,” they shouted. “We like fishing and swimming and diving better.” “Besides,” added Turkey Feather, “we are to bring plenty of fish home for cooking.”
“Wait until I catch Blue Trout,” called Molly.
She walked into the shallow water, picked up the dripping baby, as squirmy and wiggly as an eel, and held him tight in her arms. Then she waded to Shining Star’s canoe.
“I will pick berries, too!” cried Blue Trout, happily.
After going a short distance, the canoes turned into a smaller creek and wound about among cat-tails and rushes. Passing a marshy meadow, they soon came to higher land, where rough, broken hills covered with small trees and low brush, came down to meet the stream. Here the women beached their canoes on the shore and, with the children, stepped out.
Star Flower cried at once, “I will take Lazy Duck, Beaver Girl and Gray Mouse. We will fill our baskets more quickly than all the rest of you put together.”
“Very well,” answered Molly, looking at the little girls—Storm Cloud, Pine Bough and Red Leaf.
“Follow the creek,” said Shining Star. “Do not wander away from the sound of flowing water. If you go too far into the hills and underbrush, you may not be able to find your way back again.” She passed out baskets and the children quickly scattered.
Picking up her large splint basket and another smaller one, Molly started out. The little girls followed along behind with Blue Jay, chattering contentedly. They walked across the boggy shore, then up on the drier hillside, where clumps of barberry, hardhack, and sweet fern grew in a tangle of undergrowth. Here rose up huge huckleberry bushes, loaded with sun-ripened blue, berries.
“All day we shall stay, Little Trout,” said Molly happily.
As the burden strap fell loosely across her palm, she looked down at it. Its beauty never failed to please her. Diagonal stripes of yellow, red and blue in delicate moose-hair covered the forehead portion. “Red for the falling leaves,” she murmured to herself, “blue for the sky, and yellow for Corn Tassel’s hair—all woven together with kindness.” Molly looked at the burden strap’s beautiful workmanship, and love for Earth Woman, Shagbark, and Turkey Feather flooded her heart. She placed the big basket on her back and the strap across her forehead.
“Come, children!” she cried. “We must hurry and fill our baskets. We must not let Star Flower beat us.”
Thick and full the berries grew in clusters. Molly held her basket under and with swift, careful movements, stripped them off the bushes and watched them fall.
When the small splint basket was full she emptied it into the larger one on her back.
Faithfully, little Blue Trout followed at her heels. He picked berries, too, and brought them to Molly. One by one he dropped them from his chubby brown hand into the small basket, laughing and chuckling with glee. Storm Cloud, Pine Bough and Red Leaf ran back and forth picking busily. A short distance away, Molly could see the two women working and farther still, Star Flower and the other girls.
As the sun rose higher and the hot hillside grew hotter, the children’s chatter grew fainter. Farther and farther off they wandered. Molly worked fast. Her thoughts were as busy as her hands, for whenever her hands had work to do, her thoughts could travel far away—back to Marsh Creek Hollow.
For a time she did not miss Blue Trout’s bubbling words. She did not miss his help in the filling of her basket, or the sight of his chubby, bare body marching back and forth on two sturdy legs. There were berries like these on a hillside near Marsh Creek. Each year at mid-summer, she and Betsey went together to pick them. Would she ever pick berries with Betsey again?
“Corn Tassel! Corn Tassel!”
It was Storm Cloud calling, in a voice of sudden distress.
Swiftly Molly came back from dreaming and ran to the place where the small Indian girl, with a black frown on her face, was standing. But before Molly could ask a question, she saw Blue Jay and her heart leaped into her throat. He was still her baby, Blue Jay. No matter how old he grew and what splendid names he earned, to Molly he would always be Blue Jay.
A sharp, rattling sound pierced her ear and made her tremble from head to toe. She gasped, for she saw the small, straight, brown-backed baby walking straight into danger. There, not four feet away, ahead in his path, lay a deadly snake, its tail held erect in the circle of its coiled body. Its sharp eye gleamed with wicked ugliness in the head held low in front of the S-curved neck, as the angry reptile prepared to strike. The rattles vibrated again. Molly shivered with fear.
“So coils the forked-tongue, whose bite is like the sting of bad arrows…” Earth Woman’s words came back to her clearly. “The heedless man will close his eyes in sleep, unless quickly he obtains help of our brother, the ash tree…” But he must not strike, he shall not strike, thought Molly.
On the ground at her feet lay a large stone. Quickly she picked it up. Overtaking Blue Jay in a few steps, she threw it, swift and sure, with all the force of her strength, with all the power of her love for the Indian baby. “His eyes shall not close in sleep …his eyes shall not close…he shall live to be a great warrior…”
As the snake began to twist and turn, Molly felt suddenly faint and sick inside. “To be sick is weakness,” Turkey Feather had said. Then she knew that she had no time to be sick, no time to faint.
She snatched up the Indian baby and clutched him fiercely to her breast. She saw the snake wriggle off i
“Blue Jay wanted to pick up the pretty snake, but Corn Tassel threw a stone and made it go away.”
Then they all began talking at once, and above the loud babble, she heard Beaver Girl’s words. “You are not hurt?” cried Beaver Girl. “Oh, I should have stayed with you. You are not hurt?”
“It was a rattlesnake,” said Squirrel Woman, briefly. “When you hear a warning rattle, you must run the other way. You must call at once for help. Blue Jay is old enough to learn…”
“But he’s only a baby…” cried Molly, indignant. “How could he know?”
“A boy of two is old enough to know that the snake’s rattle means danger!” replied Squirrel Woman, crossly.
“We’ve picked the most berries,” announced Star Flower, but nobody heard her. The number of berries picked seemed somehow no longer a matter of importance.
“Come, we will go home,” said Shining Star.
“But Panther Woman will scold!” protested Star Flower. “She wants the baskets full, so she can dry them all for winter!”
Molly did not speak. But she saw Shining Star, with sparkling eyes, pick up her boy and all the way back in the canoe hold him close. Though Shining Star spoke no word, Molly knew she had her thanks.
Molly took the paddle of Shining Star’s canoe herself. It was the first time the women had allowed her to take it, the first time she had ever paddled a loaded canoe. Smiling to herself she reached out with the paddle, and the canoe seemed to be taking her into unknown waters, but oh how glad she was to go! New strength and sureness were hers to make her path easier no matter where it led.
When they returned to the village, even Star Flower forgot to boast of the berries picked. Little Storm Cloud told her story over and over: “Blue Jay wanted to pick up the pretty snake, but Corn Tassel threw a stone and made it go away.”
“But I thought it made you sick to see an animal killed or injured,” said Turkey Feather astonished.
“I forgot about that,” said Molly smiling a little. “I thought of only one thing—that Blue Jay was in danger and I must not let the snake strike.”
“You were in danger, too!” said Turkey Feather, softly.
“I?” repeated Molly. “Oh, no, I was behind Blue Jay.”
“I wish now I’d gone to pick berries,” said Turkey Feather. “I’d like to have seen you do that. You showed more courage than an Indian girl—an Indian girl would have run away.”
“I’m glad the snake didn’t strike you!” cried Beaver Girl.
“When someone we love is in danger,” said Old Shagbark, “the Great Spirit makes us strong and gives us courage.”
Molly could almost hear her mother speaking and the words were much like Shagbark’s: “It don’t matter what happens, if you’re only strong and have great courage.”
“You went straight into danger…” now it was Shining Star speaking, “you thought not once of yourself…and you saved my son’s life. No member of Blue Jay’s family can ever forget. As long as you live, you will have our gratitude and his!”
Molly looked from one face to the other in surprise. Was there once a time when she had distrusted these, her dear friends? If there had ever been such a time, from this day on, it was wiped out and forever gone. The tears came now, long after the danger was over.
“Why, this don’t sound like a white gal at all! Don’t tell me a white gal’s won praise from the Senecas for bravery and courage. ’Taint possible, is it?”
It was a white man speaking in English. Molly forgot her tears and looked up in surprise. All the Indians, men, women and children, were gathered close about her, but through the crowd, a white man came pushing. Over Turkey Feather’s and Beaver Girl’s heads she saw a raccoon skin cap, with its striped tail waving in the air. Above a fringed deerskin hunting-shirt, she saw a man’s weather-beaten face all wreathed in smiles. But even before he caught her in his arms and she looked up into his eyes, she knew that it was Old Fallenash, the white trader.
“But I thought you were dead!” she cried. “I thought you’d never be able to come again.”
“They ain’t scalped me yet,” said Fallenash, with a twinkle in his eye, “and even after they put me under the ground, like as not I’ll be popping up again. Yes, I made out to come. I had to come to see you, Molly. I came a long way round just to see you. Laws-a-massy, seems like I been most halfway round the world!”
“Have you brought news?” asked Molly, breathless.
“No news I might have brought could please me like the news the Indians have just been tellin’,” cried Fallenash, heartily. “When they praise you for courage, Molly, it means you’ve got the real thing.”
“But I didn’t do anything…”
“Oh, come now, I heard it all,” laughed Fallenash, “so you needn’t try to be modest. They’ve took ye to their hearts now. They’ve bound ye to themselves tighter today than any adoption ceremony could do it. They’ve made ye one of themselves. You can do no better from now on than to make your home with them.”
“You’ve not come then to take me back?” asked Molly. Her heart stood still while she waited for his answer.
“No, child, and I’ll tell you why,” said Fallenash quickly. “‘Cause you ain’t got no home to go to—your home’s right here.”
“No home?” cried Molly, lifting her hand to her trembling lips.
The Indians wandered off to their lodges and left the two alone. The trader took Molly by the hand and together, in silence, they walked to the river bank. There Molly listened to his words:
“Yes, Molly Jemison, child, it’s sad news for ye I’ve brought. I’m glad to hear from the Indians that you’re a gal of courage, for you’ll need all the strength and courage you can fetch. I wouldn’t tell ye a word, if I thought you couldn’t bear it, but I know you’re strong both in body and in heart. You’ve lived with the Senecas goin’ on two years now and it’s made you strong and well-hardened. I could see it in your eyes, even if they hadn’t told me.”
“Has anything happened?” cried Molly. Her throat was dry and the words came low. “Have you had bad news? Have you been there—to Marsh Creek Hollow?”
“Yes, I have news and it ain’t good, Molly, but hold up your chin and I’ll tell ye.” He fumbled nervously with his powder horn, then held it up.
“Take a look here, will ye? I’ve-scratched out a map upon it. Here’s Marsh Creek Holler and there’s Conewago Creek and Sharp’s Run. Here’s the mountain ranges they took ye over and there’s where Fort Duquesne used to be but ain’t no more. Now, foller the River Susquehanna up north here, then skip over west and there’s Genesee Town by the great Falling Waters, where ye be standin’ this minute.”
“Yes,” said Molly, “and…”
“I’ve been back there,” said Fallenash, bluntly, “back to Marsh Creek Holler, since I saw ye last.” His words came fast now, as if their fleetness could balance the pain they would bring. “I met Neighbor Dixon and he took me over. Your Pa’s house and barn was burned the minute you got out of sight, with everything in ’em…”
“The beds and Ma’s two spinning-wheels and the loom and…?”
“Everything!” Fallenash continued. “Dixon told me how your two older brothers came and roused him, sayin’ the whole two families was took, your Pa’s and Mrs. Wheelock’s. He got the neighbors together and they started hot on your trail…”
“I knew they were following,” said Molly, trembling.
“They follered too close,” said Fallenash, sadly. “It would have been better for your folks if the neighbors had stayed to home.
“Killed them?” gasped Molly. “All this time… they’ve never been alive at all?”
“They’ve never been alive since the day after you left them,” said Fallenash, in a low voice. “You see, the Indians couldn’t get away fast enough with so many prisoners. They were afraid the pale-faces might catch up. You’re lucky to be alive, gal, and still in your skin.”
Molly hid her face in her two hands. She cried out, in a muffled tone: “Then I’ll never see them again…Pa and Ma and Betsey and the boys and the little ones?”
“Your two older brothers might be alive somewhere,” said Fallenash, with sorrow in his voice. “Nobody knows. They ran off to the southward, so Dixon thought. But, for the others, their troubles are well over. They didn’t suffer the half of what you did, gal!”
“You can’t take me then…” said Molly, slowly. She looked up and in her eyes there were no tears. “Because I’ve no home or family to go to…”
“You’re right, I can’t!” said Fallenash. Then in a relieved tone, he added laughing: “Oh, Molly, I most forgot to tell you. My Indian woman’s got a baby—an Indian baby as brown as any in this village. Won’t it be funny for him to call Old Fallenash Pa?”
“Ah Indian baby of your own?” asked Molly, with a crooked smile.
“Yes,” said Fallenash. Then he began to boast: “I’ll teach him to shoot with bow and arrows. I’ll teach him to dance and beat a drum. I’ll make a great warrior out o’ him. By the way, I won’t be seein’ you again…”
“Oh, Fallenash, where are you going?” cried Molly.
“Them English—they keep me on the run,” said Fallenash, his sharp eyes flashing. “Wherever I go, the French and the English foller me and start their fightin’. I only come back this way to bring ye the news, ’cause I figgered ye ought to know and not go on hopin’ and makin’ yourself miserable to the end of your days.”