Girl in a Buckskin

coming to her but with his eyes not meeting hers.
    “How was Dawn-of-the-sky?” she asked quickly.
    “She is well,” he said and walked past her into the cave.
    “What—what other news?” she asked timidly. “Indeed I did not expect you so soon.”
    He had spread his hands before the blaze at the hearth and was staring thoughtfully into the flames. “There is news,” he said. “The war grows savage—it is kill, kill, kill.”
    She stiffened at the odd tonelessness of his voice. “And did Blue Feather and the hunters come back with much meat?”
    “The hunters returned. I did not ask about their hunting.”
    “Dawn-of-the-sky must be very happy.”
    “I’m hungry,” he said, turning abruptly. “Have you nothing to eat?”
    “I’m sorry.” Becky began moving around swiftly, spooning stew into his trencher and pouring hot tea into the noggin. “I didn’t think,” she said apologetically. “How cold you must be, and how empty.”
    Eseck sat down on the floor with his legs crossed under him and began devouring the food, scarcely bothering to use his spoon at all. Becky watched him curiously, wondering what troubled him. She had never seen him this way before, but she would not nag him. If what troubled him concerned her then she would hear of it soon enough.
    When Eseck had finished eating he swung around and looked at her. “You did not mind being alone?”
    “No,” she said calmly, “I did not mind.”
    His eyes slid around the cave, taking in their precious winter stores. “You can use the snowshoes as well as I,” he said, “and you shoot an arrow almost as straight as I. The dugout is finished and you have shot your first deer and others besides.”
    “Aye,” she said politely.
    He stood up and walked to his musket. Sitting down beside it he began to clean it with great care. Seeing that he was not going to speak again Becky turned aside and began mincing venison with the hunting knife.
    Eseck said suddenly, “If the need ever arose, you would not hesitate to go to Black Eagle? The Mahicans are your friends, you are their daughter Little Doe now.”
    Becky looked at him with anxious eyes. “Eseck, what is it?” she said simply. “Has war come to this valley?”
    He was silent a moment, his eyes brooding. “Aye,” he said at last, “you might very well say that war has come to our valley. Strange things happen to a man, Becky. These are bitter days.”
    “Nothing will happen to you, Eseck,” she said, not understanding him.
    Across the earthen floor he met her gaze fully and now Becky saw the strange wildness of his eyes. “I will tell you what I found at Wnahtakook. I found the village in mourning, their faces painted white and much wailing around the fires.”
    Becky’s eyes widened. “Someone has died?”
    “Blue Feather is dead.”
    She stared at him without comprehension. “Blue Feather? Blue Feather dead?“
    “He did not return with the other hunters.”
    She drew in her breath sharply. “But this cannot be,” she cried. “Eseck, tell me this is not true!”
    “I wish to God it weren’t,” he said, drawing his hand over his eyes.
    A terrible anguish for Dawn-of-the-sky clutched at her heart. “I don’t understand, ” she cried helplessly. “Was it a fever? An accident? What has happened, Eseck?”
    He shook his head. “T’is far better you never know.”
    “Better I don’t know!” She stared at him with stricken eyes. “Eseck, I must know. How dare you sit there and tell me I should not know? Tell me,” she cried, and running to him shook him fiercely by the shoulders. “I must know, do you hear? Do you hear me?”
    Eseck lifted his face. “Very well,” he said quietly. “Blue Feather was scalped.”
    Becky drew away from him in horror. “Scalped!”
    “Aye. They went north to hunt. North to the Hoosac Valley and beyond. They made camp for many suns and then one night they were ambushed. And Blue Feather did not get away.”
    Becky felt behind her for the log table and leaned against it weakly. She thought of Blue Feather’s soft dark eyes and the plume he wore in his scalp lock that another Indian would be wearing now on his belt or his coupstick, and for a second she felt the cold edge of the tomahawk at her own temples and she fought down her nausea. Clinging to the table for support she hurled furious words at Eseck, her eyes livid. ”Now—now can you speak of two sides to the stick?” she gasped. “Tell me true, Eseck, can you