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Authors: Lori Benton
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they didn’t turn north toward the fort.
“I am leading my mother and these others to Kanowalohale,” shesaid, letting the bow down to rest against her thigh. “We come from Ganaghsaraga.”
“You are Tuscarora?”
She nodded. “We seek a new home.”
“In Kanowalohale? You have passed that place. Did you become confused in that snow last night?”
She had slanted brows like wings, slender and dark. They folded in at his question. Turning to the woman nearest her, she spoke words too low to hear, then handed over the bow and strode forward to meet Two Hawks where he stood, her moccasins breaking a path through the unblemished snow between them. She pushed back her hood. The sun came out of clouds to shine on her black hair. She was smaller than she’d appeared from a distance. Pretty. Or probably would be without that scowl pinching the skin between her brows.
“I come from the soldier fort at the Carrying Place,” he told her. “I know what happened at Ganaghsaraga, with Thayendanegea and the sachems there. Why have you and these grandmothers left that place?”
“Because not all at Ganaghsaraga can agree on what to do. Most of my clan chose to move west to Niagara to be farther from the Americans. But my mother fears the British more than she fears that missionary at Kanowalohale. She could not be at peace until I moved her there. These with us are all who chose to come. All of our clan not gone over to the British.”
Two Hawks peered past the young woman. Her elders looked cold, tired. Grief in their faces. “You set out yesterday? Into that blow?”
She tightened her lips, tilting her chin. “It had not begun when we left.”
Anyone with eyes could have seen it coming. He nearly said so—then reconsidered.
He
had attempted to outrace the storm. Had a mishap befallen him on the trail, he’d have been caught out in it too. Mishaps were hard to avoid in winter. Harder traveling with grandmothers.
“I am going to Kanowalohale with these things of my mother’s for which I’ve traded our furs.”
The girl looked him over. “Your mother? What is her clan?”
For the first time it felt like he was talking to a female. “
A’no:wál
—Turtle Clan.”
Interest brightened her eyes, letting Two Hawks know she wasn’t Turtle Clan. He was accustomed to such looks from young women when they learned his clan, that instant assessment of a man as brother or potential mate. Usually it meant nothing.
“Could you have hit me with that arrow?” He smiled as he spoke, hoping to lighten the encounter.
The girl did not smile back. “Yes. I could kill you with my knife. If I had to.”
His gaping at her did him no favors. Her eyes narrowed. “My father is dead. I have no uncles. For five years I have hunted. I taught myself to do it. I do well.”
She certainly brandished a hunter’s confidence. Two Hawks remembered trying to hunt for his mother during that time his father left them to live with the Senecas. Had she faced the same fears, doubts, dangers? A
girl
.
“Will your missionary forbid me to hunt?” she demanded now. “Will he make me plant corn instead? I will not stay where I cannot freely hunt.”
“Reverend Kirkland?” Two Hawks raised his brows. “I think you would not listen even if he tried to tell you such a thing. But you need not worry for that. He has
o’sluni ’kéha
’—his white ways—but he is a friend to the People, good in his heart.”
Her gaze weighed his words, and him. In her eyes, interest sparked again, bolder this time. Two Hawks looked away. She
was
pretty, and there was spirit in her. But she wasn’t Anna Catherine.
A breeze kicked up, stinging his face. It blew powdery snow off the pine, sending it across the huddled women like a veil. One called in aquerulous tone, asking how long they would stand on the trail talking while old toes were freezing and old bones going stiff.
Her back to them, the girl grimaced. “Since you go to Kanowalohale, we may
“I am leading my mother and these others to Kanowalohale,” shesaid, letting the bow down to rest against her thigh. “We come from Ganaghsaraga.”
“You are Tuscarora?”
She nodded. “We seek a new home.”
“In Kanowalohale? You have passed that place. Did you become confused in that snow last night?”
She had slanted brows like wings, slender and dark. They folded in at his question. Turning to the woman nearest her, she spoke words too low to hear, then handed over the bow and strode forward to meet Two Hawks where he stood, her moccasins breaking a path through the unblemished snow between them. She pushed back her hood. The sun came out of clouds to shine on her black hair. She was smaller than she’d appeared from a distance. Pretty. Or probably would be without that scowl pinching the skin between her brows.
“I come from the soldier fort at the Carrying Place,” he told her. “I know what happened at Ganaghsaraga, with Thayendanegea and the sachems there. Why have you and these grandmothers left that place?”
“Because not all at Ganaghsaraga can agree on what to do. Most of my clan chose to move west to Niagara to be farther from the Americans. But my mother fears the British more than she fears that missionary at Kanowalohale. She could not be at peace until I moved her there. These with us are all who chose to come. All of our clan not gone over to the British.”
Two Hawks peered past the young woman. Her elders looked cold, tired. Grief in their faces. “You set out yesterday? Into that blow?”
She tightened her lips, tilting her chin. “It had not begun when we left.”
Anyone with eyes could have seen it coming. He nearly said so—then reconsidered.
He
had attempted to outrace the storm. Had a mishap befallen him on the trail, he’d have been caught out in it too. Mishaps were hard to avoid in winter. Harder traveling with grandmothers.
“I am going to Kanowalohale with these things of my mother’s for which I’ve traded our furs.”
The girl looked him over. “Your mother? What is her clan?”
For the first time it felt like he was talking to a female. “
A’no:wál
—Turtle Clan.”
Interest brightened her eyes, letting Two Hawks know she wasn’t Turtle Clan. He was accustomed to such looks from young women when they learned his clan, that instant assessment of a man as brother or potential mate. Usually it meant nothing.
“Could you have hit me with that arrow?” He smiled as he spoke, hoping to lighten the encounter.
The girl did not smile back. “Yes. I could kill you with my knife. If I had to.”
His gaping at her did him no favors. Her eyes narrowed. “My father is dead. I have no uncles. For five years I have hunted. I taught myself to do it. I do well.”
She certainly brandished a hunter’s confidence. Two Hawks remembered trying to hunt for his mother during that time his father left them to live with the Senecas. Had she faced the same fears, doubts, dangers? A
girl
.
“Will your missionary forbid me to hunt?” she demanded now. “Will he make me plant corn instead? I will not stay where I cannot freely hunt.”
“Reverend Kirkland?” Two Hawks raised his brows. “I think you would not listen even if he tried to tell you such a thing. But you need not worry for that. He has
o’sluni ’kéha
’—his white ways—but he is a friend to the People, good in his heart.”
Her gaze weighed his words, and him. In her eyes, interest sparked again, bolder this time. Two Hawks looked away. She
was
pretty, and there was spirit in her. But she wasn’t Anna Catherine.
A breeze kicked up, stinging his face. It blew powdery snow off the pine, sending it across the huddled women like a veil. One called in aquerulous tone, asking how long they would stand on the trail talking while old toes were freezing and old bones going stiff.
Her back to them, the girl grimaced. “Since you go to Kanowalohale, we may
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