Panther in the Sky (30 page)

Captain Byrd’s pink face looked all around now. He made a motion with his hand to some boys who had moved too far forward. Then he looked at the soldier who held the smoldering stick and shouted at him. Everyone was absolutely still. A mockingbird was making its silly songs down by a large tree that stood in the middle of the marsh.

The soldier lowered the burning stick toward the top of the cannon, and Tecumseh could see from the flinching tension in his face that this was the moment. He glanced at Thick Water and saw him blinking, blinking.

The Indians lived in a quiet world, a world of wind, water, and stealthy animals. Aside from the crack of a musket or the thunder of a storm, seldom did a sound louder than the shout of a voice come to their ears.

The cannon bucked and issued a cracking roar so loud, it hurt Tecumseh’s head and made him jump and gasp. He felt the shock pass through the soft earth under his feet. A tongue of orange flame and a huge plume of blue smoke shot out thirty feet in front of the cannon. The shock of the blast was so overwhelming to him that he hardly remembered to look at the target.

When he looked, nothing had happened to the wood. But beyond it he saw a spurt of water in the river, no more than that of a big fish jumping.

Tecumseh’s ears were ringing. He looked at Black Hoof. Black Hoof looked at Captain Byrd. Captain Byrd’s pink face had gone red. His cannon had missed the pile of wood.

Someone in the crowd had recovered enough from the pain of the noise to laugh. It was a young man called Copper Hair, who lived at Piqua Town and had come over with warriors from there to see the cannon. Copper Hair was a white captive who had been adopted into the tribe four or five years ago. Chiksika knew him. When the people heard Copper Hair laugh, they realized that what they thought had happened really had, and they laughed. Now Captain Byrd was almost as scarlet as his coat. He said something to Girty, who was trying not to smile. Girty said something to Black Hoof, who then raised his hand to hush the tittering and said:

“Our friend and ally Captain Byrd explains that he now has tested his gunpowder, and finds that it did not get wet in the recent rains. Now that he knows the gunpowder is good, he will shoot at the pile of wood that we made for him beside the river.”

Tecumseh felt Chiksika’s hand touch his shoulder and looked up at him, and Chiksika said with a smirk: “Even if they are our allies, the white man cannot say the truth to us.”

This time when the soldiers had the cannon ready and had re-aimed it, the people put their palms over their ears. The soldier touched it with the burning stick, and it bucked and flashed and smoked again.

And almost at the same time, the big pile of wood down by the river flew into pieces. The people’s faces were full of amazement. Logs and branches and bark and splinters twirled in the air and splashed in the river. The people cried out. Captain Byrd said something, Girty spoke, and Black Hoof announced:

“Now our friend and ally Captain Byrd tells us we have seen that no fort in Kain-tuck-ee can stand against the power of this cannon. As for myself, I can see that if they can hit the forts, this will be very useful to us.”

And it seemed that in this, at least, was truth.

After the demonstration, when all the people were milling around talking to each other, Tecumseh asked Chiksika to take him to the youth named Copper Hair, the one who had first laughed when the cannon missed.

This young man was very agreeable to look at. His face was red brown like a red man’s, but his hair was also dark red, and his eyes were blue. It made him strange to look at. But he was a Shawnee now. Chiksika said to him, taking his hand, “Copper Hair, welcome, if your ears can still hear me. Here is my brother Tecumseh. I have told you of him.”

The red-haired one had a pleasant smile, and when he took Tecumseh’s hand, Tecumseh saw that his hand had little golden hairs on it. “I have heard much of Tecumseh. They say you were born under a star. Maybe you are going to be a savior.”

“I am expected to do something sometime, it is said. But now may I ask you a question, brother?”

“I will answer if I can.”

“When you lived with the white men …” Tecumseh began. One never said to such an adopted one, when you
were
a white man. “When you lived with them, did you know how to understand the black language on the white rag leaves?”

Chiksika laughed. “I could have guessed that’s why you wanted to talk to Copper Hair! You two talk of that, then. I am more interested in this cannon.” He and Thick Water went to join some young warriors who were near the rolling-gun.

Copper Hair looked puzzled. “What did you say?” he asked Tecumseh. “Black language?”

“In the
livres.”

“Leaves?”

Tecumseh shook his head and grimaced, frustrated. Then he held his left palm open and made over it a motion of turning pages, as he had seen French priests do.

“Ah! Ah, I see! Books!”

Tecumseh tried to repeat the strange word. “Pooks.”

“Books. Yes, I could understand books. I could …” He said another strange word, having no Shawnee word for it. “I could
read
books.”

“Read.”

“Read. That means, to look in a book and see what all the words mean. My father had many books. I could read very well. Even my sisters could read.”

“Sisters could read?”

“Yes. We were a rich family. My father was a great builder. He made big houses. Council houses. And bridges.”

“British? Your father built British?”

The red-hair laughed. “Bridges. They are like wooden roads from one side of a river to the other. But we were talking of books.”

“Yes! Books! Brother … Ah! What do the words in the books mean?”

“Every book means something different. First, there is the Bible …”

There was another word. “Bi-buh?”

“Bible. The Bible is the greatest of all the books!”

“Ahhh!” Tecumseh was feeling a strange excitement from hearing of all these unknown things. “Why is it greatest, this Bi-buh?”

“Oh! Because it is the word of… God.”

“ ‘God’?”

Now Copper Hair was getting excited, too. “We call him Weshemoneto. The white men call their Great Good Spirit, God.”

Tecumseh stood with his head tilted and his mouth open, absorbing all this. A few yards away, Chiksika and some of his comrades were having an equally taxing conversation with Simon Girty and the Redcoats about cannons, with much puzzlement in their faces and much head nodding. Tecumseh said to Copper
Hair: “You had the word of Weshemoneto in a
livre?
In a, a, a book? How can this be? Tell me!”

Copper Hair’s eyes were sparkling, and he could not keep his hands still. Something was stirring him very much. “Listen, Tecumseh,” he exclaimed. “I would like to tell you all this! But they are taking me back to Piqua Town today. They brought me here to help interpret what the British say. If you can come to Piqua Town someday, with your brother, we will talk for a long time. You ask me things no one has asked me since I have been Shawnee. I want to tell you so much that I remember!”

Tecumseh was looking at Copper Hair now out of the side of his eye. He said cautiously: “When … when you were among the white men, did you, ah … 
like
it?”

“Oh, yes!” Then Copper Hair seemed to draw something down inside himself, a caution, and said: “It is better being Shawnee, of course. But … but my father, my family … oh, they were the best sort of white people.…” He seemed terribly agitated, and his eyes were intense on Tecumseh’s face. “Listen. If I tell you a secret, will you keep it? On your word?”

“I keep all secrets told to me.”

“I’ve so wanted to tell this to someone, anyone …” His voiced dropped to confide. “It could be dangerous if people knew it.… Oh, never mind. Maybe it is better that I keep still.…” Copper Hair looked afraid now; he was biting his lower lip, as if he should never have said any of this.

“Brother, you do not have to say it,” Tecumseh said. “But if you want to, I will tell no one else.”

Copper Hair looked at Tecumseh for some time, plainly, very nervous. Then he said:

“Then I’ll trust you. I told you, my family was the best sort. None braver. None smarter. You … you have heard of the Long Knife chief called Clark?”

Tecumseh shivered at the name. He nodded.

“The one,” Copper Hair went on, “who captured all the British forts and caught Hamilton?”

“Yes. We have heard much of him.”

“Listen: I was on a journey with him when I was captured.…”

Tecumseh was awestruck. Here was a man who had known the terrible Clark! Tecumseh had a hundred questions suddenly. But Copper Hair was whispering on:

“It was Christmas Day of seventy-six, the last date I was ever to know of for sure.… This Clark you know of … I was with
him.… Secret? Promise? Because he’s my cousin!” Copper Hair whispered this urgently.

“Clark is your cousin!”

“Yes! His mother is a sister of my father! We grew up together, all us cousins, all more like brothers!” Tecumseh was obviously awed. Copper Hair hurried on, as if this information had been needing to burst out of him in words: “Oh, what a man he is, cousin George! Whenever I hear of him I shiver. How I’ve wanted to speak of him, when I hear tell of what he’s done. But maybe they’d kill me if they knew … or put me up as hostage.… But he is my cousin, oh, yes. And there’s no finer a man. I just wish I could come out and
brag!”

“This Clark, you mean, is
good?”

“Good? No finer a man! He’s a long-seer … always keeps his word. And … have you ever known anybody who can talk of a thing so that you want to jump up and
do
it?”

“Yes!” Tecumseh was thinking of Chiksika. And of Black Fish, especially Black Fish. Here again was this idea of the power of words, of which Black Fish had made him so aware. Even among the white men, then, there must be people like that. Tecumseh wanted to talk to this Copper Hair for days. It would take days for him to ask all the questions that had come up in his mind in these few minutes. But now Copper Hair’s name was being called by someone near the cannon. Some of the warriors from Piqua Town were calling to him and beckoning. They were on their horses.

“I must go now, brother,” Copper Hair said.

Of all the questions whirling in his head, Tecumseh felt he had to ask at least one before this man rode away. “Brother, what was your white man name?”

“Ro … Rogers. Joseph Rogers.…” His eyes looked wild. “Oh, how long since that name’s been said aloud! … Listen! Come to Piqua Town, and we’ll talk! Promise!”

“Yes! I will bring my books!”

“You have books!” Copper Hair’s blue eyes were wide open. The warriors were calling him again. They began riding over.

“I have two books, and I will bring them!”

“Weh-sah,
good!” Copper Hair gripped Tecumseh’s shoulder and then turned and ran toward the Peckuwe warriors.

And Tecumseh watched him ride away, so stirred by this that he had nearly forgotten about the cannon.

S
TAR
W
ATCHER AND HER YOUNG BROTHERS RAN THROUGH
the town with the crowd, toward the war road. They had heard the returning warriors singing and the dismal drone of the voices of captives. The hundreds came in a haze of drifting dust.

Never in memory had so many prisoners been brought in. They came staggering into Chillicothe, four or five hundred of them, men, women, and children in rags, many naked and hurt, all gaunt and terrified. Their skin was red with sunburn and smudged with dirt and blood. They were loaded like pack animals with useful things the warriors had looted from their towns and made them carry. Many of the Redcoats and the Greencoat rangers were moving beside the prisoners, helping the warriors guide them along. Star Watcher trotted next to the great, long, noisy column of wretches, looking for her husband. At the sight of the scrawny, sooty young mothers leading and hauling their wailing children, she felt heavy with pity.

When she found Stands Firm, riding far back in the column near the slow-moving rolling-gun, she walked alongside him, her hand on his foot in the stirrup. He told her that with the help of the Redcoats and their cannon, the warriors had captured two whole towns full of prisoners, and that they would all be taken to Detroit and sold to the Redcoat chief there. Stands Firm said it was the greatest victory ever in Kain-tuck-ee, but he did not seem very pleased about it.

That evening, when all the hundreds of exhausted prisoners lay groaning and crying mournfully in a field ringed with guards, when the Chillicothe people had grown tired of taunting and tormenting them and staring at them, Star Watcher fed her husband and her brother Chiksika, and the family learned why this great victory seemed so joyless.

“No one will want to go to war with this Captain Byrd again,” said Chiksika. “He has no stomach.”

Stands Firm started telling the story of the campaign. “At first, Captain Byrd was bold. We were going to go to the Great Falling Water of the O-hi-o. With the cannon we would shoot apart the
new fort built there by the Long Knife Chief Clark. Clark was said to be still out in the valley of the Missi-se-pe, and all the tribes were eager to destroy his fort at the Falling Waters.

“But then spies came and told us that Clark himself was already at his fort. Therefore some of the chiefs—but not Black Hoof—decided it would be bad to fight there. They said the ghosts of the ancient white giants of Kain-tuck-ee would be against us, because the Falling Waters place is where our ancestors massacred them, as we have heard in the old songs of our people and of the Delawares.

“I was ashamed for those chiefs. Byrd was angry at them. His general had wanted him to strike the fort at the Falling Water place. But Byrd had to go where the chiefs voted to go, as he was only helping us. And so we went into Kain-tuck-ee at the Licking River instead, and up to a new fort called Ruddell’s. There, just one ball from the cannon knocked down the gate, and the white men saw how many we were, so they came out to give up. Many warriors ran into the fort and killed about twenty people. Captain Byrd got very mad at us. He told the chiefs he would not help with his rolling-gun at any more forts if the warriors killed people who had already given up. The chiefs said to him, What did we come here for? They said, How are we to fight the other forts of Kain-tuck-ee when we have so many prisoners to guard?