The name Tyoga Weathersby was spoken in reverent hushed tones. Since the battle with the Runion pack, and the mauling on Mount Rag, deeds, shrouded in mystery and intrigue, had been attributed to him that blurred the divide between man and beast. Depending on who was telling the tale, Tyoga Weathersby was either an honorable rogue or a murderous assassin.
He was known throughout the Appalachians, the Ohio Valley, the Carolinas, from Charleston to Middle Plantation and Hampton
Roads.He
was both admired and feared for his mystical power over his brother the wolf—the creature revered above all others for his connection with the spirit world. Though the legend was borne of violence and death, and had morphed Tyoga into a fictional persona immersed in battle and blood, he in truth remained a gentle man of intuitive understanding and quiet confidence. While he had never raised a hand in anger towards any man, the legend that now surrounded him was enough to keep all but the most foolhardy at bay.
Tes Qua Ta Wa’s foot had been saved by Yonevgadoga, the medicine man, and the skills of Tyoga’s mother, Emma. Despite the severity of his injury, Tes Qua Wa moved with the rhythmic sway of his Indian brothers; fluid currents of motion—with only the slightest crease that betrayed the horror of that night so long ago.
He had assumed the signature stature of the Ani-Yunwyia: stocky, low, and barrel-chested. His arms were powerfully sculped, but lithe rather than knotted with mass. His thick wrists were attached to surprisingly delicate hands. Storied with scars, his hands reflected the calloused honesty of a man tested beyond his years. The weathered ruddiness of his complexion proclaimed his Cherokee heritage with pride. His prominent eagle-like nose bestowed his countenance with the discerning incredulity of a suspicious schoolmaster. His deep set eyes, shadowed by a lightly feathered disciplined brow were diamond black—at once exposed, yet revealing nothing at all.
He had grown into his name: Tes Qua Ta Wa, The One Who Opens the Door, and his mettle had been tested according to the Indian tradition. He had taken his place around the council fires next to his father, and his opinion was often sought as his command of the English language and understanding of the ways of the whites was far beyond that of any other Native American in mid-Atlantic colonial America. A wise and thoughtful young man, he understood the value of compromise and the power of negotiation. Well known throughout the Appalachians as an even-handed, fair-minded arbiter, Tes Qua was called upon to help settle disputes in neighboring villages of the Choctaw and Chickasaw.
He was also known as the blood brother of Tyoga Weathersby.
The young men had reached the age where they were expected to shoulder the responsibilities of adulthood, so their free time was more limited than in their youth. Still, they found time to enjoy the freedom of the frontier. Their hunting and fishing trips deep into the rolling hills of Appalachia to harvest game for their tribe were excuse enough for exploration and adventure. Creatures of the forest, as naturally at home on the pine-covered slopes and rocky mountain outcroppings as the animals they would encounter along the way, they spent days at a time camped in a make-shift hunting lodge nestled in a hollow or on the bank of a mountain stream.
Life had changed dramatically for the Indian tribes of Appalachia since that night six years ago on the escarpment. When they were young boys, they traveled in relative safety with little more than a knife and a stout piece of hickory for protection. They gave wide berth to rival Indian clans, and avoided unpredictable trappers in their travels. For the most part, they did not have to worry about the intentions of the reclusive mountain folk. Now, at the turn of the century, they never traveled without their flintlocks primed and close at hand.
Tyoga and Tes Qua were on their way back to Tuckareegee from Dahlgren where they had traded some sassafras root for fishing hooks and a bolt of linen cloth.
Two days away from the Ani-Unwiya village, with the skies overcast and threatening, they stopped early in the afternoon to make camp on a spit of land located at the confluence of the Rapidan and the Rappahannock rivers. An ominous cool breeze blew down the river gorge from the north. They anticipated a long windy night of cold rain. Usually more comfortable sleeping out under the stars, they constructed a shelter of pine boughs and animal hide to protect them from the elements. They would be warm and dry through the night in the lean-to. Seated under the shelter, well within the warmth of their blazing fire, the young men sat cross-legged on deer skins and a thick black bear pelt.
It was the quiet time just before sun set—but the roar of the two mighty rivers colliding just a few yards from their campsite robbed them of the cleansing quiet they both so enjoyed.
They had dismantled their flintlocks to clean the pans and cocks and lock plates, and to do some minor repairs.
Several days earlier, they had come across the site of a skirmish in the woods. Many hard soled boots had disturbed the ground, and the underbrush was trampled and torn. Several rucksacks, a utility belt and a bloody, torn jacket rested near the discarded, broken stock of a Hudson Valley fowling.
They were removing the trigger guard from the fowling piece to replace the broken one on Tes Qua’s rifle.
“Eh ya, adanedi gilasulo,” Tyoga said to Tes Qua while reaching for his moccasins to place at the opening of the shelter near the fire for them to warm and dry.
Tes QuaQua handed his moccasins to him. “Galieliha.”
“Welcome.”
“Hey, ya ta we tsila uv do la, Ty.”
“Okay,” Tyoga said. “Here, use this for the screw lock.”
“A-ho.”
“How close do you think we are to South Fork and Seven Arrows?” Tes Qua asked.
“Oh, about a half day. Northwest.”
Tes Qua slid the round pan back toward the butt and lifted it off the broken stock. Tyoga held the octagonal barrel of Tes Qua’s Mackinaw while steadying the rifle in his lap.
The fire popped and a glowing red ember flew into the air like an angry firefly and landed on the thick fur of the bear pelt. Tyoga slapped at it several times with his open hand.
“I hope we don’t come across him, Ty. He’s never forgiven you for So-hi, Dawson’s Creek—or for what happened on the Rag.”
“The Rag. Damn the Rag, Tes.” Tyoga was uncharacteristically annoyed. “Nobody knows what really happened up there. Not even me. It’s just wild talk. We never saw no four dead Shawnee. We never saw nobody get mauled. I didn’t do it. The wolf was there with us sure enough—but I didn’t tell him to tear those boys apart. Nobody saw nothin’ I tell you. It’s plain old crazy talk. Don’t nobody know nothin’ fer sure.”
“Ty, Seven Arrows’ brothers, Spotted Calf and Running Elk, were killed up there. Everybody knows what happened. You can say whatever you want—but Sunlie told us what happened. Everybody knows about you and the wolf. Some say that you’re one and the same—ever since that night—that’s what the people say.”
“An’ what do you say, Tes ‘A?” Tyoga asked. “Tell me what you think. Come on.”
Tes Qua stopped working on the trigger guard and looked out toward the glowing fire.
“I think you are my brother,” he said to Tyoga smiling. “And you only eat like a wolf.”
They both laughed and continued working on their rifles. Tes Qua was rubbing the pans of both flintlocks with bear grease and lubricating the cocks. Every so often he would look up at Tyoga who was working on removing the trigger guard from the broken stock. He noticed Tyoga jerk his head up and scan the underbrush beyond the light of the flames.
“What is it, Ty?” Tes Qua asked.
Without answering, he shook his head.
“He’s here with us now, isn’t he, Ty?” Tes Qua asked. “I know he’s here. I can smell him. Where is he?”
Ty handed Tes Qua the swan neck cock, and the set screw.
“He’s over there. Behind the rocks, by the water,” Tyoga said.
Tes Qua shook his head in annoyance and began securing the trigger mechanism to the stock.
Tyoga understood his good friend’s sign of frustration, and teasingly asked, “What’s wrong with you?”
“What?” he asked goadingly.
“It’s Wahaya.”
“Well, what about him?”
“It’s funny that he won’t show himself to me,” Tes Qua said. “After all this time he still keeps hidden from me. I don’t understand. Why won’t he let me see him? He shows himself to Sunlei. He protects her like he watches over you, but he won’t even show himself to me.”
Tyoga listened to his friend, and thought quietly about what he had said. Truth be told, he had wondered the same thing. He and Tes Qua were together almost all of the time. Wahaya always let them know he was with them, yet he would not show himself to Tes Qua. Then, one day, he realized that the answer was in the question.
“I think it’s because you are the only one who knows.” He looked down at the work waiting in his lap.
“What?”
“Think about it, Tes. You are the only witness to what happened between us six years ago. Not another living creature saw the proud leader of the pack battered, broken, and bloody.” Tyoga paused and took in a deep breath. “Tes Qua, do you ever think about that night?”
Tes Qua didn’t answer.
“Don’t you wonder why he let it happen? He could have killed us at any time. I’ll never forget him stretched out there at my feet with his bloody head on the ground, his eyes staring up at me. I held that stone over my head and I was gonna bash his skull clean in two—and he didn’t move. He just kept looking at me. I remember looking into his eyes and seeing my own reflection as clear as if I was lookin’ in a mirror. I felt his eyes fill me with … with …” At a loss for words, he stopped. “I watched my reflection disappear into the blackness of his eyes … and it was over.”
Tes Qua didn’t answer. He looked up and saw Tyoga staring out into the darkness.
Tes Qua looked back down at the work in his lap, and continued wrestling the stubborn set-screw. The Mackinaw stock wasn’t exactly like the Hudson fowler. He had an elk bone awl in his rucksack that he could use to drill a new hole in the stock of his rifle to make the trigger guard fit, but it was late. It had begun to rain and he was getting tired.
Seeing that Tes Qua was finished working with his rifle for the evening, Tyoga helped him collect the parts and place them aside for in the morning.
Both rifles were in pieces—and useless.
It was a mistake.
Chapter 16
Thoughts that Young Men Share
T
he night was crisp, and the cold rain was unrelenting. The swiftly flowing water that chiseled the banks on both sides of the young men’s campsite spilled over the rocks to course through the narrowing channels towards the confluence at ever-increasing speed. Like quicksilver Spartans in a game of musical chairs, the rivers collided and boiled in convulsive disarray until finally melding into a single channel of disciplined power heading southeast toward the Chesapeake Bay.
Warm and dry in their shelter, they listened to the rain pelting the oiled hides they had spread out over the pine bough roof while sharing the thoughts that young men share in the dark—in the woods—all alone.
Tyoga said, “Listen to that river roar.”
“Yeah, it’s moving fast,” said Tes Qua. “Won’t be doing any fishing tomorrow.”
“That’s all right. We have plenty to eat.”
“Hey, Ty. Let’s go west in the spring.”
“I don’t know, Tes Qua. Times ain’t right for travelin’ west just now. The French have the Sioux all worked up, and it just ain’t safe. I’d hate to see your long black braids hangin’ from a Sioux lodge pole. OUCH!” Tyoga exclaimed at the kick that caught him in the thigh. “‘Sides, I promised Sunlei that I would take her east. Maybe we’ll visit York Town. Hampden Roads, maybe.”
“Ty, you should ask her to be your wife before you go?”
“I don’t know,” Tyoga said. “Maybe. I’ll ask her sometime soon.”
“Soon?” Tes Qua replied. “The People laugh and say that ‘soon’ will never come. They all wish Sunlei to marry.”
“What do the People say about her marrying a white man, Tes?”
“They say a union binding the Wolf Clan to the Weathersbys would be a good thing. But, Ty, you cannot wait forever. Sunlei has refused the sons of many chiefs. The People speak of unions with the Chocktaw and the Chickasaw that might have been. The peace made by these joinings would have been good for the People. Soon Chief Silver Cloud will force my father to make Sunlei marry. You must not wait too long, my brother.”
“I know, Tes Qua. I know.”
The young men lay on the bear skin with their hands locked behind their heads staring up at their pine bough ceiling. Each was lost in private thoughts. Tes Qua was trying to imagine what it would be like to have his sister marry a brave from another clan or tribe. Tyoga was trying to imagine the same.
Sunlei was the most sought after maiden in the Shenandoah Valley. Her allure went far beyond the physical beauty with which she had been blessed. Her eyes sparkled with the excitement of constant discovery.
Gentle of countenance, Sunlei had cared for most of the children in the village as newborns. Recognizing the fluid curve of her forearm and breast from when she had cradled them in their first days of life, they flocked to her side whenever she passed through the well-worn alleyways of Tuckareegee.
Soft-spoken and warm, she was a frequent visitor in the lodges of the tribal elders. She comforted the infirmed with a compassionate confidence that sent many on their final journey secure in the love of their tribe.
Even-tempered and self-possessed, she adapted easily to situation and circumstance without abandoning principle or belief. She was always willing to politely listen to opposing points of view, confident in her intuitive strength to remain steadfast when petitioned with deceit, and in her courage to be swayed by reason when presented with fact. Yet, those who knew Sunlei well understood that her willingness to listen was not to be confused with agreement. It was a mistake to equate her tender heart with weakness of character.