Daughter of Shiloh. Ilene Shepard Smiddy

camp.

      Clarinda was convinced that they had Shining Rifle to thank for the clothing, but she dared not reveal what she knew about him. He had not spoken to her since that evening by the river. He did follow her with his eyes when he was in camp. The other women noticed and mentioned it to Clarinda. Just on the brink of womanhood, Clarinda could not understand their implications about what his attention might mean.

      The Indians had relaxed their guard. The women were free to roam about the immediate area. Jenny and Clarinda found some wild berries growing along the riverbank. They were a short distance from camp, and the guard was not paying them any notice.

      Jenny whispered to Clarinda, “This River is the Little Sandy.”

      “Are you sure?” asked Clarinda excitedly.

      “Yes,” Jenny said. “Really sure. My family stayed near here for a time before moving on to Morgan’s Station. I remember this valley well.”

      Clarinda recalled Jenny’s family had arrived just before the attack. “We can escape,” she told Jenny. “The Little Sandy flows into the Ohio, and the Ohio will lead us to Limestone. All we have to do is follow the rivers. There’s a fort at Limestone. The militia will take us home.”

      Clarinda could hardly wait until dark. When they were all inside the teepee she outlined her plan. “I know we can find the fort at Limestone if we follow the rivers. If we don’t go, when the Indians finish whatever it is they’re doing here, they’ll take us across the Ohio. We won’t be able to get back. Let’s leave now, while they sleep.”

      “No, no, we’ll all be killed,” Susie cried under her breath. “The Indians will find us. We can’t get away.”

      “Please, Elizabeth, don’t you want to try?” Clarinda begged. “Jenny, Miss Robinson, what about you?”

      “I think it would bring certain death on all of us,” Jenny said.

      “I’ll go by myself. When I get to Limestone I’ll send the soldiers here.” Clarinda jumped to her feet, ready to leave. “What difference does it make if we die out there or here?” she asked. “You don’t have to come, but I’m going home.”

      “No, we won’t let you go,” Susie Baker said tearfully. “If you try to leave we’ll have to wake the Indians.”

      “The tall one, the chief, he wants you,” Jenny said, nodding. “That’s why we’re still alive. He would have us tortured if we let you go. Besides, I didn’t see this place called Limestone.”

      “It’s on the Ohio River, where the Little Sandy joins it and the Big Sandy. Limestone is near there. We can find it.” Clarinda could not understand their objections.

      Elizabeth Young had regained her senses. “No, Clarinda, they can move faster. They know the wilderness. My Joe used to tell me about Indians. I don’t think they’ll hurt us here, but if we try to escape, we’ll all die. We can’t let you go either. The chief does want you. I can tell. We would all suffer if we let you leave.”

      This was the most Elizabeth had said since they were taken. The other women agreed with Elizabeth. Clarinda sat down, shaken. She wanted to tell them she only reminded the tall Indian of his mother, a French girl, but she held her tongue. Instead she asked, “Why do you call the tall one a chief?”

      “Because,” Jenny said, “he makes the prayers to their Great Spirit. He may even be a shaman. Don’t you see how they look up to him, and the way he builds the fires? The sticks represent the four directions, north, south, east and west. He is asking for guidance.”

      “My goodness,” Clarinda said. “How do you know so much?”

      “When we were here, the Cherokee were our friends. They taught us some of their customs. Most of these Indians are Shawnee or Wyandot. The chief may be the only Cherokee.”

      Clarinda thought about that. What would an Indian chief want with her? Jenny was right about him. He did appear to be some kind of leader. She had thought that since she first saw him.

      If they would not help her, she would have to stay. Maybe there was no one to go home to anyway. Perhaps her brothers and Elizabeth’s husband Joe had not come because they were all dead. But what of her sisters? They were not at the fort. She resolved to pray hard that they were not harmed. All became quiet in the teepee and Clarinda fell asleep.

      The women soon realized why the Indians were staying on the Little Sandy. They were catching wild horses that roamed free in the nearby mountains. Almost every day they added more to their pen.

      Late in the afternoons it became the women’s practice to watch the braves break horses. They were good horsemen, and the activity provided a welcome diversion to the long days.

      By using a rawhide hackamore with a braided headstall, the Indians could break the horses for riding in just a few training sessions.

      One day Clarinda counted the round stones. There were thirty-two. “We’ve been here a month,” she told Susie Baker. All of the women were gathered outside the teepee.

      Clarinda’s attention was drawn to a brave who was rearranging his pack. Shining Rifle was standing within a few feet of the seated Indian, smoothing arrowheads by rubbing them with a rough stone.

      Watching the Indian, Clarinda caught a glimpse of something familiar. She was sure she had seen some of her family’s belongings. For a moment she hesitated, overcome with pain and anger. Then she saw a gleam of blue and gold as the brave proudly held up one of Martha’s treasured blue flowered dishes.

      Without any thought for her own safety, Clarinda sprang on him like a cat, in a flying leap, screaming and kicking, biting and scratching.

      The brave was caught off guard. He fell backward, trying to avoid Clarinda’s furious attack. All of the rage and humiliation she felt went into her assault. She was pounding him in the chest with her fists when the chief pulled her away from him.

      Shining Rifle was laughing uproariously, as he held her back.