Memories Trail, Part Two

By DL Larson

Governor Harrison of the Indiana Terriroty intends to expand the frontier. The Shawnee and other Indian tribes are to give up their land or suffer the consequences. The Shawnee, Tecumseh's tribe, have already given all they can. Tecumseh wishes for a united Indian Nation where they can live just as their ancestors had for generations. The British in Detroit have long guns and cannon aimed at the Americans. It is only a matter of time before war breaks out.

Tecumseh tells Elizabeth he sees Will's death as easily as he sees his own. Despite her pleas, Will picks up his war club to defend the people he loves. His decision could well destroy them both.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DL Larson
• Release date: Jun 3, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301891610

DL Larson

I'm DL Larson, and I've been a writer awhile now. My historical love story, MEMORIES TRAIL is soon to be available at Smashwords. "MEMORIES TRAIL" Part One: Set in frontier America during the War of 1812. Three people united in passion and purpose are torn apart by the devastation of war. Dominion over the wilderness beyond the frontier threatens all they believe in. If you check the profile picture, note the tomahawk in the front center ~ it is a ceremonial piece, circa 1880's (60+ years past the War of 1812) but still very unique. I purchased it at the Blue Licks State Park, Kentucky. Also in the profile picture ~ in the background is a poster of an Indian. That's Tecumseh, the Shawnee warrior, a major character in my book and a real person from American history. Researching Tecumseh was a challenge and a reward. He was charismatic and extremely succesful in pursuading other Indian tribes to join his cause for a United Indian Nation. My characters, Will and Elizabeth, become friends with Tecumseh and thus entangled with the war efforts. Their beliefs could destroy them all.

Book preview

Acknowledgments

Indian Legend states that a story seeks a writer and if it finds her worthy, it will settle on her heart. The author’s gift is to give that story life. Memories Trail is set in and around the War of 1812, where my characters face injustice, prejudice and political unrest. Although my story is fiction, the Shawnee warrior, Tecumseh, was very real. His dream for a United Indian Nation brought thousands together, and his beliefs to retain their freedom and to live as they chose lived in every Indian’s heart.

I dedicate this book to the thousands who have lost their lives or their loved ones to war. War is ugly, destructive, but so often necessary. Injustice can not win. Sometimes we must settle for awareness and let the healing act of love be the cornerstone for a better tomorrow.

Just as my characters offer love in the midst of devastation, I reach out to my family in gratitude and adoration for always, always supporting me. This book would never have become a reality without their encouragement. Thanks to my sister Pat, father Wayne, and friends Judy Rosengren, Gina Nelson, Marge George. Kurt, my beloved, to Angie, Wayne, Amber, Josh, Nick and Shannon, thank you! Thank you. Thank you for standing by me, no matter what!

Memories Trail

Part Two

By

DL Larson

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Published by DL Larson

© June, 2013 by DL Larson (2nd edition)

© November 2004, by Helm Publishing (1st edition)

Cover art supplied by http://www.istock.com and designed by Stephen R. Walker of http://www.srwalkerdesigns.com

Smashwords License Statement

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

CHAPTER ONE

Elizabeth noticed the dishes rattling in the cupboard first, and then the floorboards shifting beneath her feet. As she stumbled for the door, the timber walls groaned. The ground rolled across the barnyard, stirring up clouds of dust that choked her lungs as she groped for sure footing but found none. The north side of the corral collapsed into a heap of twigs, and the breaking of timber cracked like thunder over her head. Every window in the house shattered like bits of ice, as it burst from the casing.

Trees were uprooted as if they intended to flee, only to realize they didn’t know how and crashed to the ground. Elizabeth sank to the dirt, shielding her face, yet seeing all. Water shot out of the spring in a great geyser. The ground rumbled, shook as if a giant stomped the ground in an angry fit, his tantrum running unchecked. His fury was slow to relent, and the ground shuddered up, down, then up again. Thoughts of a great snake burrowing beneath her made Elizabeth cry out. Or was it only a lament against the upheaval? Long after the rumbling stopped, the wailing went on in her mind.

Time seemed meaningless as she crouched on her knees with her head tucked down as far as she could. Once again Elizabeth drank in great gulps of gritty air there in the middle of the barnyard and wondered how she had ended up in such a place. Her mind kept reliving the horror, and she couldn’t decide if the tremors she felt were from her mind or from the earth beneath her.

Her worry for Will and Devon pierced through the fear as she lay there unable to help herself. Hours passed, or perhaps it was only moments. Her head ached from the roaring, worse than thunder, more violent than ten tornadoes. In her imagination, the upheaval seemed worse than a hurricane. Only it wasn’t wind and water forming in an angry torrent but the ground beneath her, with incessant belching to right itself. She would never feel the same again, and her wobbly limbs refused to stop shaking. She would die right here, Will’s babe tucked beneath her heart, and she apologized she couldn’t give it life. Knowing the future had done her no good at all.

When she woke, Devon knelt over her. He looked shaken and old, and she hugged him to her, her tears wetting his coarse homespun shirt.

Can you stand, missy? Misty eyes searched hers.

I think so. He helped her up and together they headed for his wigewa. It looked to be the only structure not damaged. The cold had her shivering again and dulled her senses. Devon moved sure but stiff in starting a fire as she huddled under a hide, trying to calm her breathing.

I’m gonna check, see if everything is all right, Devon’s voice cracked like static before a storm.

Don’t leave me, she whispered, her voice no steadier than his.

Gotta, missy. Something could be burning. Last time…, Devon swallowed and Elizabeth winced remembering he had already survived three other quakes. I’ll be quick. But best to see to it now.

She curled into the thick furs that made up Devon’s bed, the softness a welcome shock to the harshness of the last few hours. For the first time in several months she slept without dreaming. Even the trailings didn’t disturb her. The quakes were over, at last they were finished, and she gave into the fatigue and slept the contentment of a newborn babe.

A little over a day later, the first thing she saw was her husband. His smile filled with tenderness. She must be dreaming, he had left to follow Tecumseh, yet she reached for him, half expecting him to fade into a mist. But strong, warm arms encircled her instead.

You came home, she sobbed against his neck.

Is that so surprising? he teased. Is that really so surprising, Green Eyes?

Later, Devon mumbled, Most beautiful thing I ever saw.

She turned to the old man, wondering what he meant. They both watched Will cross the barnyard as they sat at the small fire in front of Devon’s wigewa. Will’s long strides brought him closer as they watched.

My sonny, riding in on his big ol’ stallion. Could’ve sat down and wept like an ol’ woman.

Elizabeth patted his knee as sympathy welled in her throat. I know, Devon. I feel the same.

Wish we could keep him home. If it comes to war, folks will call him traitor. Devon turned to her. You know that don’t ya, missy? She nodded again, she knew, and pondered the situation.

Tecumseh would take a stand, perhaps in the Indian Territory, or further north like Devon thought. The old man had mentioned that with the disaster at Tippecanoe, Tecumseh would almost be forced to join up with the British in Detroit.

The fact that so many tribes might leave because of what the Prophet had done felt wrong. From what they heard in the last month, it had been more an embarrassment that drove the tribes back toward their own territories, not fatalities. The Indians had lost much in pride at Tippecanoe, especially their respect for Tenskwatawa, who had failed them miserably. But was male pride so fragile that these warriors failed to realize one battle lost didn’t mean they should turn tail and go home? In her mind that seemed more cowardly than admitting defeat. If they had come this far believing what Tecumseh told them, she didn’t know why they would give up at the first sign of trouble, and she wondered why the amalgamation wasn’t strong enough to keep them united.

Devon explained a bit more, and she understood the battle at Tippecanoe had been a false start. Tecumseh hadn’t been there, Tenskwatawa had been. If Tecumseh couldn’t control his own brother, how could they trust him to the entire Indian nation? Just like a man to think such nonsense. Even Christ had been betrayed by his own disciple, and Elizabeth felt ashamed for comparing Tecumseh to her savior. Still, no man should be punished for the crimes of another. Surely others knew that, and she wondered if the Indian nations would reconsider and return.

The land taken by the Americans wouldn’t be given back. The United States government didn’t give things back. But Tecumseh seemed to think they could reclaim their lost land, while Will’s biggest concern was he wanted the government to deal fairly with the Indians. He told her he felt ashamed of the undignified dealings that had taken place in the past, out right smuggling of land by devious measures.

Will said the Indians were like children in their honesty. That prompted her to remember Blue Flower. Common decency and respect had brought Blue Flower forward, not fear or guilt, but a sense of what was the right thing to do. Such behavior was a way of life for the Pawnee, and maybe for other tribes as well. Will had said their sense of justice had been trampled on.

Not that every Indian was totally committed to honesty and justice. Tenskwatawa had certainly been proof of that, and Elizabeth felt sure there were others. But overall, the Indians conformed to a strict code of justice, respect for others and themselves. Will said their biggest fault was expecting the same in return. They didn’t readily see deceit because they didn’t think an honorable man would use such tactics, let alone a government. They believed, or had at one time believed the seventeen fires to be honorable. Elizabeth knew they thought differently now.

It took several days to brace the house. Will and Devon replaced broken beams. Surprised at their expertise at carpentry, Elizabeth watched closely. Once it was safe to return to the house, she found she didn’t want to, and she made their lunch out on the open fire just as she had all week. Will teased her, saying she was gonna turn into a Pawnee maid if she wasn’t careful, and she tried to smile at his bantering.

What’s the matter, darlin’? He watched her closely. The house is safe, come on. Will grabbed her hand and gently pulled her across the barnyard. See? He walked around the massive room, waving his hand to the ceiling. Good as new, Green Eyes.

She nodded.

Sorry I don’t have enough glass for all the windows.

Doesn’t matter, she whispered as he smiled at her, and she tried to do the same.

It is kinda dirty, he grinned.

I’ll wash it down.

I can help you, he said softly, watching her.

You have plenty of other things to do. The corral and that uprooted tree out back. She fidgeted about, not really looking at anything except the floor.

What’s the matter, Elizabeth? He sidled up to her, his voice soft with concern.

Nothing. She shrugged as if she meant what she said.

The earthquakes are gone, he spoke as gently as he used to with Suzette.

I know. Her throat cramped up and she fell silent again.

Then what is it? He grabbed her hand as she stood by the door. He led her to their room. See? All better. Next he pulled her toward the fireplace in the main room. That’s fixed, too. She nodded, and he moved to the other room and she stopped. His gaze settled on hers a long time. It’s all right to be sad, his voice roughened with emotion. I miss her, too. His arms folded her into his chest. We’ll clean this room first. Will that help?

Yes, she rasped. She didn’t know why but knowing the earthquake had defiled her daughter’s things disturbed her. She missed her little girl. Had it only been five months since Suzette’s death? It seemed more than a hundred years since she’d held her.

A few nights later their bedroom was clean again, and Elizabeth nestled against her husband. I don’t want you to go, Will.

I know. But I have to.

Why? She tried to keep the fear from creeping into her voice.

Elizabeth, you know why. We’ve talked this over before, he sighed, and she recognized his strain of patience over her worry.

I’m afraid you won’t come back, she admitted in the dark as she reached for his hand.

His fingers squeezed hers. I’ll be back. I promise.

How long will you be gone? was just another plea for him to console her tattered nerves.

I don’t know. His hand settled in her hair, and then brushed it from her face.

You won’t be here when the baby’s born? She shuddered and his arm pulled her nearer.

No, I don’t think so, he said, calm but firm.

Does Tecumseh have any chance of succeeding? Her face came close to his.

If the Indian nations support him, then yes, he does.

And if some don’t? That was her biggest worry, and by Will’s silence, his too. That night in the sweat lodge with Tecumseh, she’d sensed his fears. She knew this false start hurt the amalgamation. Already some tribes had turned away, and others might not come. If they don’t support him? she repeated softly.

That’s another story, Will said, his voice edged with concern.

They’re all so inter related seems. If one tribe leaves, another will, too. It could all fall apart so easily.

Yes, he said quietly.

And what will you do if that happens? Her voice warbled, telling him more than words could how much she fretted over his safety.

You want me to say I’ll come home?

Yes, she croaked, fighting off the panic of losing her husband to some war.

He sighed. He’s a prophet, Green Eyes. You have witnessed his calling firsthand. You saw the Panther Walking Across the midnight sky. That’s his own sign stating he knows what is to come. He predicted four earthquakes, ‘Lizabeth. When there’d never been any! Only a prophet can do such things. You and Tecumseh are the only ones who knew what was to come. You have seen how important his cause is. His people need their home. It’s all they have, all they want. To only be committed until it gets ugly is dishonorable. I go to help Tecumseh. I will stay as long as I am needed. Afraid he might never return, she fell silent. I’d like to think your prayers will keep me safe til I can come home to you.

When will it end?

One way or another, it depends on Tecumseh. The British will fight, no doubt, and if President Madison has any sense, he’ll listen to the Indians and not his governmental officials.

You really think the United States will go to war against Britain? she asked, already knowing the answer.

Yes. It’s not just here on the frontier. The coast has its troubles, too. The Red Coats have been blocking cargo ships for months.

Yet you’ll fight alongside the English? Despair snuck into her voice.

I fight for the amalgamation. There’s a difference, unfortunately many won’t see there’re two wars here. One with the Indians, one with the English, Will’s voice sounded resolved to the fact that others might object to his siding with the Indians against the Americans.

And one can’t win without the other? she repeated what Devon had mentioned on numerous occasions.

It’s just that neither can survive on their own just now. The British don’t know the land they own. And the Indian tribes don’t have the weapons it would take to face the Americans. He pulled her tight against him. And yes, I know, he said softly. If the British win, the Indians could someday have to fight them for the very land they’re fighting the colonists for.

Doesn’t seem fair, Elizabeth mumbled, snuggling into his warmth.

No, but the ways of man rarely are.

Another three weeks passed before Will and Devon had the corral rebuilt. The fourth week they repaired the barn. Elizabeth wished there were a dozen more buildings that needed fixing. The end of April approached. Will had been home over five weeks, and she knew it was time. He would leave again to join Tecumseh.

They hadn’t heard much more news. Devon reported Indians in the area to the south and east of them riding to join the amalgamation. Other than that, they heard little.

Tomorrow I leave, Will told her softly. Her tears wet both their faces. She slept fitfully most of the night until Will pulled her into his arms once more, and she finally fell into a deep sleep.

When she woke the next morning, the sun shone brightly through the open window, making her smile. Will must have pulled the hide back to let the sun in. Waking to sunshine warmed her heart, and she hoped to find a bit of strength so she wouldn’t beg him to stay.

Her head rested on the pillow as she gathered her courage so as not to turn maudlin at his leaving. A small white fan made from eagle feathers lay on Will’s pillow. The soft down fluttered hesitantly when she breathed. The jet-black tips tremored as unsteady as her breath. The contrast of the black tips against the white down looked stunning as it nestled against the pillow. Fifteen eagle feathers easily cost the price of one horse. The value of his gift astounded her, and that didn’t account for the meaning behind the gesture.

With shaky fingers she traced the ebony tips. The fragrance of honeysuckle wafted up, and upon picking up the fan she saw a host of the red trumpet-like flowers beneath.

She fought not to cry aloud, but she didn’t try to stop the tears. Will was long gone, and she crushed the yellow-throated flowers to her as she pulled her husband’s pillow close, trying to smile at the elegant fan. She could hardly see it through her tears.

Will rode with the Creek warriors north. They moved slower than he wanted to travel, but he also found the company enlightening and stayed with them. Although they also felt the calling of Tecumseh, they too were torn. Some whites had traded fairly, others not so.

Many raids had started up, first stealing horses, setting fire to crops and firing at hunting parties. Perhaps this coming together would help. Many at home thought it would only agitate the whites more. Lately the whites weren’t the only ones raiding, setting fire to crops and homes.

No one was happy anymore. A man couldn’t have a smoke without another asking what it all meant. Will heard that from an old chief, and he nodded. Yes, no one was happy, least of all himself. They thought he was a half breed, one with good sense for claiming his red blood. He first attempted to tell them otherwise, and then thought of the red blood in his veins from Crying Hawk. He was more Indian than he cared to acknowledge. Perhaps he was a half breed after all.

Already he felt tired, and they had yet to reach Tecumseh. Spring lightened his step, but not his heart. If he was captured, he didn’t want to think of the shame that would be thrust on Elizabeth and Devon, as well as his unborn son. Maybe he should turn around and go home. Maybe he should turn his back on his red blood and the injustices being dealt out. Maybe Tecumseh was right--this wasn’t his fight.

But he couldn’t live with himself if he turned away from a nation of people who had loved him his whole life, so he prayed to Tirawa to guide him.

His first sight of Tippecanoe was one of surprise. He heard after the battle it had been destroyed by Harrison. Burned to ashes was what he’d been told. What he saw was a city emerging out of ruin. Already wigewa were built, not as many as before, he was sure, but still something to be in awe of.

If Harrison knew of this, even he must think twice before crossing Tecumseh. But then, Will thought ruefully, maybe he was giving the General too much credit.

Will had been staying with the Upper Creek and continued to do so. He didn’t search for the Pawnee. If they had arrived he’d see them soon enough. He knew too, if the people of his tribe came it would be to appease their curiosity. They had yet to commit to the amalgamation, and Will didn’t think they would. They might fight the tribes that had sold land that wasn’t theirs to sell. Those Indians, Will knew, could well be obliterated off the face of the earth for what they did. His Pawnee brothers weren’t the only ones who felt that way. That was the danger of this whole situation, too many variables.

The Chahiksichakihs and others who had good trade with the whites were reluctant to fight alongside Tecumseh, but they would join forces to punish a Potawatomi named Winamac and his followers for selling land to the United States that wasn’t theirs to sell. And Tecumseh, he wanted a united Indian nation to make a stand against the colonists. He wanted all the land back.

The British didn’t want to give ground to the Americans, but they couldn’t defend what they had without the Indians assistance. They lacked manpower, not weapons. They knew little of the territory they claimed. They needed Tecumseh as much as Tecumseh needed them. What many didn’t care to worry about, although a major factor, was the Indians west of the Mississippi didn’t want the Shawnee or any other tribe moving in on their ground. The Indians in this area, Tecumseh in particular, had their backs to the wall; Will felt it as keenly as anyone. Their land was shrinking as fast as greed tempted a thief. They had no place left to go. They had to defend what was theirs. Their way of life depended on it.

Then he thought of the settlers who’d crossed into Indian Territory. Just because the government secured the land on paper, didn’t mean it was safe to bring mama and the children to