She nodded her head graciously, and Cailin lost her fear. Moonfeather radiated trust. Despite her wild companions, it was natural to believe that this woman came in peace.
“Come ashore,” Cailin said. She wasn’t certain how one made Indians welcome, but Sterling would know. “Can I offer you something to eat?” Feeding guests must be universal ... at least if they ate the same kinds of food as the English and Scots.
Moonfeather said something to the paddler in the stern of the canoe. He frowned but steered the boat toward the bank.
Cailin splashed after them, suddenly conscious of how she must look, hair wet and stringing, clothes soaked through. A fine hostess I am to greet our first visitors, she thought.
“Moonfeather!” Sterling hurried toward the canoe with open arms. “Moonfeather! Kitate. Chee-tun-ai, it’s good to see you.”
The men brought the light craft as close to the bank as possible, then one stepped out and lifted Moonfeather in his arms. He set her lightly on the grass and returned to help the brave wearing the bear claws beach the canoe.
“Cailin.” Sterling took her hand and helped her up the bank. “We are honored by a visit from Lady Leah.” He draped an arm around Cailin’s shoulder. “Cailin ... Moonfeather, Lady Leah.”
“I dinna ken—” Cailin said.
Moonfeather laughed. “Call me whatever you like. Leah will do if Moonfeather sits uneasy on your tongue. But here in my mother’s land, this person does not need the title of
lady.”
“Moonfeather is Lord Kentington’s wife,” Sterling explained. “I told you that her father was a Scottish earl.”
“My mother was Shawnee,” Moonfeather said. “Only with the English do I bow to my husband’s wishes and follow his customs. Here this one is only-”
“A peace woman,” the shaven warrior growled. “The peace woman of the Shawnee.”
Sterling smiled. “A great lady in any tongue. We are pleased to welcome you here to our home.”
Any doubts that Cailin might have had about Moonfeather’s identity were quickly extinguished as the workmen snatched off their hats and bent their heads in salute to their mistress.
“Lady Leah,” Isaac said. “Good t’ see you, ma’am.”
“And you, Isaac,” she replied.
“Your Ladyship.” Joe’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he clutched his cap.
“Ladyship,” Nathan echoed.
Moonfeather responded to them graciously, calling each by name, and asking after Isaac’s family.
“Your son and his wife were very kind to us,” Cailin said when the laborers stepped back. “I’m afraid we took advantage of your hospitality for several months this winter.”
Moonfeather smiled. “Forrest wrote to me. I’m glad that he remembered his manners. If he had done any less, I would have scolded him severely. Isn’t his wife a treasure?”
“I liked her very much,” Cailin replied. She wondered why Sterling hadn’t told her that Lady Leah dressed like a savage and lived in the woods. It was all very puzzling. But there was no time to worry about that now. She brought out the food that she’d been planning to serve for the noon meal and put water over the fire to boil.
Within minutes, she, Sterling, and their guests were seated under a large beech tree, sipping mugs of steaming tea. Cailin had offered chairs, but the Indians declined. Instead, the five of them sat on the ground. Indians, Cailin decided, liked a great deal of precious sugar in their tea.
“Tea is one custom that this woman grew fond of in England,” Moonfeather exclaimed after an exchange of gifts and appropriate thank-yous. She had presented Sterling with a magnificent knife with a carved bone handle and a beaded sheath and belt. Cailin had received a beautiful basket woven of pine needles. Sterling in turn had produced powder horns full of gunpowder for the men and a small silver-plated French pistol for the peace woman..
“I’m afraid I canna offer ye cream or lemon,” Cailin said. “We’ve no cow yet, and lemon is too dear for us to afford.”
Moonfeather laughed. “Milk is one of the other European customs I’ve not adjusted to. I find it ...” She spread her hands expressively. “Rather repulsive.”
“I meant to come to the village as soon as the house was finished,” Sterling said, changing the subject. “I’ve heard a lot of rumors of unrest among the tribes, and I wanted to hear what you thought about it.”
The Shawnee with the bear claw necklace, the man called Kitate, glowered. He had not spoken since they’d left the canoe. Now, he said, “It is not wise that you build a house in this place.” Cailin noticed that his English was good but heavily accented.
Moonfeather waited until he had finished. “My son speaks truth,” she agreed. “This is not the time to cut this earth for planting tobacco.”
“The land is mine,” Sterling insisted. “Mine from my mother and by the king’s own hand.”
Kitate’s scowl became darker. “Land cannot be owned. From your mother came hunting rights, not the right to carve up the forest.”
“King George—” Sterling argued.
“King George is far away,” Moonfeather said. “His moccasins have never walked these trails. He has not the blood of the people—he is not Shawnee. The English king does not matter.”
“You, Snow Ghost, have returned to us,” Kitate said. “But you do not come as our brother. You come as one of them.”
“War is coming between red man and white,” the second warrior said. “Which side will you choose, Snow Ghost? Will you fight against your mother’s—”
Sterling’s features became as hard as Kitate’s. “Half of me is Shawnee,” he said, “and half is English. The peace woman knows my heart. I am torn between mother and father.”
“My father was a Scot,” Moonfeather corrected softly. “Not English. My children are more European than Shawnee. Those closest to me have pale skin and light eyes, but I always knew my loyalty lay with my mother’s people.”
“My mother was Shawnee as well,” Sterling said. “I honor her memory and would never lift a hand against the Shawnee or the Delaware.”
Moonfeather gave him a long, pensive look.
“If they leave me and mine in peace, I’ll be a friend to them,” Sterling added. “But I will build a plantation here. I mean to keep what is mine.”
Moonfeather handed Cailin her cup, and when she leaned forward to take it, her amulet slid from her damp bodice. Instantly, Moonfeather’s gaze became fixed on the pendant. Her eyes widened, and she drew in her breath with an audible gasp. “So,” she murmured.
Self-consciously, Cailin clasped the necklace. Hadn’t she heard something about Indian giving? If Moonfeather liked the Eye of Mist and wanted it, what should she do? Lady Kentington had been good to them, but she didn’t want to hurt Sterling by giving away the necklace either. Quickly, she tucked the amulet back under her clothing. “Would you care for more tea, Lady Kentington?” she asked to cover her distress.
“Where did you get that?” Moonfeather asked.
“She’s had it since she was a child,” Sterling said. “It’s a family keepsake. Now, about this land ... I have no intention of forbidding the Shawnee to cross it, to fish and hunt here. I—”
Moonfeather would not be distracted. “Who gave you the necklace, wife of Snow Ghost?”
Cailin answered stiffly. “It was a gift from the man who fathered me, Cameron Stewart.”
“So.” Moonfeather rose to her feet and smiled.
“The circle is closed,” she said mysteriously.
Confused, Cailin glanced at Sterling. He seemed as bewildered by his guest’s remark as she was.
“Come to the village and talk with the elders, Sterling Gray,” Moonfeather said. “There will be a high council meeting on the night of the next full moon. You should hear what has happened between Shawnee and the whites in the years since you left.” She looked directly into Cailin’s face. “If you are ever in need, come to me, Cailin Gray. Two days’ walk along the river. This woman would be your sister.”
The two braves leaped up.
“There’s no need for you to go,” Sterling said. “We can talk—”
Moonfeather suddenly grasped his hands and stepped close to him. “Heed my words. War between the English and the French is coming to this land. This woman fears that the rivers will run red with blood.”
“If war does come, will the Shawnee stand with the English or the French?” Sterling asked.
Moonfeather shrugged. “When hawk and eagle clash, small birds scatter.”
“You must choose between them. The French only want furs and to convert the tribes to Christianity. The English colonists have come to stay. They’ve sunk roots here. They won’t be driven out,” Sterling replied. “The French can’t win. If the Shawnee choose the wrong side—”
“Some of my people fear the English settlers more than the soldiers,” Moonfeather replied. “The soldier comes with cannon and shot, but the farmer sinks deep roots in the earth.”
“We can learn to live together—English and Indian,” Sterling argued. “You’ve spent your life making peace. You must believe in the possibility.”
Moonfeather sighed. “To make a lasting peace, both sides must agree. So long as the Indian claims land that the
Englishmanake
wants, there can be no end to the fighting.”
“You can’t put all the blame on the whites, Moonfeather. Your greatest enemies, the Iroquois nation, were here long before the first European set foot in America.”
“My enemies?” She shook her head. “You believe in your heart that you are English, Sterling Gray, but your mother carried you under her breast. She gave you life. It is her heritage that runs strongest in you. You cannot turn your face from your Shawnee brothers and sisters.”
“I’m not ashamed of my Indian heritage.”
“Then I have wronged you,” she said. “You are a good man, and I would offer you no insult.”
Sterling’s face flushed beneath his tan. “The English and the Shawnee don’t have to be at each other’s throats,” he said. “There’s land enough here for us all.”
“Aye,” she answered. “So my husband and father believe. But when this one looks into the sacred fire, she sees the flames of war and hears the footsteps of a passing people.” She released his hands. “I sense a change in you, Sterling Gray,” she said quietly. “Something has happened.”
He didn’t answer. Cailin glanced from one to the other. Moonfeather’s warning had been ominous, but now ... A chill passed over Cailin.
The peace woman’s eyes darkened to pools of liquid obsidian, and when she spoke again, it was in the Indian tongue. “Na-nata Ki-tehi,” she whispered.
There was more, but uttered so softly that Cailin could hardly hear her, let alone comprehend.
“Are you sure?” Sterling asked.
“Aye,” Moonfeather said, switching back to English. The fey look left her face, and she smiled. “Come to the village,” she said. Then she turned and walked toward the river, followed by her men. After a few steps, she stopped and glanced back. “Thank you for the tea, and do not forget to bring your wife with you when you come to the council fire. There is much that I would know of her.”
“What did she say to you?” Cailin asked as the braves guided the canoe into deep water and began to paddle upriver against the current. Moonfeather turned to wave, and Cailin waved back. “What a strange woman,” she murmured.
“Trust her,” Sterling said. “No matter what comes, remember that you can trust her. She is a great lady and the wisest woman I’ve ever known.”
“What did she say to you?” Cailin repeated. “Just before she left—when she spoke in Indian.”
He gave a small sound of disbelief. “It makes no sense at all.”
“What doesn’t?”
“She told me that my Shawnee name is no longer Ko-nah Ain-jeleh—Snow Ghost. My new name is Na-nata Ki-hehi-Warrior Heart.”
Cailin chuckled. “She can change people’s names, can she?”
“She is a peace woman. There’s no English equivalent, but she’s a spiritual and political leader, not just of one tribe, but of the whole Shawnee nation. A peace woman is born, not appointed, and there’s never more than one in a generation. She can damned well give me a name if she decides to.”
“She’s that powerful?”
He nodded. “She could have a royal governor killed with a flick of her hand. She could declare war or end it. It’s an Indian thing. I don’t expect you to understand.”
“You take this seriously, don’t ye?”
His mouth tightened to a thin slash.
“’Tis odd, certain,” she said, “but I’d like to try and understand. She called ye Ko-nah at first. Who gave you the name Sterling? Your mother?”
“No. My father called me Sterling, after his grandfather. Snow Ghost was my child name. I should have been given a new one when I received a vision and completed my initiation into manhood.”
“And for some reason, ye didna.”
“No. My initiation was ... somewhat irregular. Usually, a boy has a vision of the animal that will become his spirit guide—his protector. My naming was postponed. Then my mother died, and my father took me to England.”
“And today, Lady Kentington—Moonfeather—has decided to give ye a new name.”
“Crazy, isn’t it? A man’s name is never given to a warrior who doesn’t have a proper spirit guide.” He grimaced. “I told you that you wouldn’t understand.” Sterling draped an arm around her shoulders. “What say we light that fire and start moving our furniture inside? We’ll sleep under our own roof tonight.”
“Will you go to the Shawnee village?”
His mood became somber again. “We’ll have to. There’s an old war trail that crosses our land. If trouble comes, I’m afraid we’ll be in the thick of it. I can’t really spare the time now, but as soon as our first crop is in and the stable is finished ... yes, I’ll ride west to the village and hear what the council has to say.”
“She said on the next full moon.”
“There’s been talk of all-out war between the Indians and the English since before I was born. If the news is good, it won’t hurt to wait to hear it.”