The next day Elizabeth ventured out to gather sticks to burn. Clarinda touched her arm and smiled. “It is good for you to help.” For a moment Elizabeth’s eyes shined, seeming to come to life.
“Maybe she’ll get better if we help her,” Susie Baker said.
Clarinda was so glad Susie was feeling better that she hugged her.
“We will help each other, we must find a way to go home,” Clarinda said. She looked around in every direction, then whispered “We have to be brave.”
The Indians held their course, and continued moving east. Clarinda could see high mountains, where a blue mist hung in the air like smoke. She remembered them on her journey into Kentucky. To the north must be the dreaded Ohio Territory.
“Dear God, please don’t let them take us into Ohio,” she prayed as she walked.
By afternoon they had reached what appeared to be their destination. It was an encampment in a small clearing. The Indians who took the other two women were already there, and acted relieved to see Shining Rifle and the rest of the braves.
Clarinda, Susie and Elizabeth were glad to see the woman named Robinson and the other girl were alive.
The Indians spent most of that night dancing around a huge bonfire. They had been waiting for Shining Rifle’s band. There were no Indian women in sight.
The camp consisted of a few deerskin-covered teepees and a circular pen for the horses. The women were assigned a teepee. Since reaching the mountains, the cold air cut through their tattered clothing. They were grateful for the shelter and welcomed the privacy the teepee offered them.
The first few days at the camp passed quickly. The women busied themselves bathing and washing what was left of their garments. Taking turns, they helped each other. The naked ones stayed inside the teepee while the others fetched the clothes when they were dry. They discarded what little was left of their shoes.
Every morning Clarinda found a round stone to place against the inside wall of the teepee. This provided them a way to count the days and have some understanding of the passage of time. They had no idea how long they had been on the trail.
They found a pile of clothing outside their flap one morning. Delighted, they sorted out things they each could wear. It was the plunder from Morgan’s Station. Their pleasure was bittersweet. Clutching the chosen items, they scurried back into the seclusion of their tent. With dry eyes they held the clothing close and thought about home, each remembering in her own way.
Clarinda threw her arms about Susie Baker. She had seen Polly wear the blue cotton dress she had chosen. Susie held her tight for a time, then motioned for her to put it on. The girl known now to them as Jenny chose Nancy Allington’s favorite red frock.
Like butterflies emerging from cocoons they crawled out into the sunlight. It felt good to be clean and well clothed. Their spirits lifted a little. Usually the women kept silent, not wanting to attract attention. Today they were talking, sorting through the rest of the clothing.
The Indians had completed their morning routine and were bringing the horses from the pen. The braves gave the women questioning looks, but Shining Rifle hurried them along. One Indian always remained behind to guard the captives. The rest spent the whole day away from 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
