Girl in a Buckskin

lass,” she said crossly.
    “Oh?” He smiled down at her pleasantly. “Well, not while you are here and I am there, t’is true,” he admitted. “But I leave you in kindly hands. This brother of yours seems to have made good friends here.”
    “Friends without souls,” she said bitterly.
    O’Hara frowned. “That’s a harsh way to speak of friends. These are good Indians, lass.”
    “I didn’t know there were any good Indians,” she reminded him.
    “No? Then you have much to learn. There are good Indians as well as good white men, bad Indians as well as bad white men. The white men who killed your friend Blue Feather had black hearts to be sure. Men are the same everywhere, whether in Indian villages or down country in towns.”
    She looked at him in astonishment. “You think—that? You are singularly alone then, Mr. O’Hara.”
    “Not alone,” he said mildly. “You, too, ran in terror from the French Indians, and now you take refuge among their cousins with the same painted faces.”
    “Then there are two of us who feel this,” she said, “and we two are alone.”
    He grinned. “Really? There’s many a skirmish we’d have lost in the colonies without friendly Indians to guide us and fight for us.”
    “Oh, them,” she said.
    He began to see that the slant of her thoughts ran northward. “You’re thinking then of the French Indians and the war,” he said. “Aye, of course you are.” He was silent a moment, staring at the flooded stream. “It’s either them or us, lass. Sometimes it looks to me as if they’ll drive us all back into the ocean we came from. They’ve powerful friends—these Canadian devils have a real army, not farmers called out to muster. A real army, and the Indians to do their dirty work for them.”
    “We could live in friendship—surely this would be possible?”
    He shook his head. “Never. The white man needs land to plant his crops, land for villages and broad commons, and farms to grow his food. The Indian has the land. Each year we chase them farther north and west until there is no end to it. The Indians know that.”
    She gestured toward the peaceful village behind them. “These people live in peace.”
    He smiled faintly. “They were great warriors once. Now they’re glad to live in peace for fights among themselves have killed off the cream of their braves. They’re happy now but someday white men will come to this valley, too, and someday, lass, there’ll be no village here at all. For it’s against nature for the two to live side by side. Better to ask the catamount and the squirrel to lie down together.” “The Indian being the fierce catamount, of course,” she said scornfully.
    “No,” he said, “there are times I think the white man a catamount with his broken treaties and greedy manners.” Again he had surprised her and she turned to look at his face. “You speak—almost like Eseck,” she said in amazement. “You see both sides of the stick.”
    “Perhaps,” he said with a scowl, “for all Irishmen have heart for those who are tread on. But for all I’m new to this land, it’s mine now. Show me a hostile Indian and I’ll kill him with my bare hands if need be, for I’m not so foolish as to think he wouldn’t kill me first if he had the chance. I’d act like any other man who’d save his scalp.”
    She nodded. “So you will go back and fight.”
    “I will when they call me out. But I’ve a few things to attend to first.”
    They were silent, watching the stream carry a broken tree past them, the current trying to devour it at every turning. Then O’Hara said, “You’ll not think better and come with me?”
    Becky shook her head. “I cannot, Mr. O’Hara.”
    “But you’ll stay here awhile.”
    “I promised,” she said quietly. “I will stay.”
    He sighed. “I’d best be turning in then, for dawn will be here soon enough. Black Eagle has promised you a kettle for only two skins. He is a good man.”
    “Aye,” she said, knowing this was good-bye.
    “I’ll be going then,” he repeated. “Goodnight, lass, and God bless you.” With the aid of his stick O’Hara climbed to his feet and slowly limped away.
    He did not turn to wave. As she watched him go Becky’s eyes filled with tears and when he was gone from sight she pressed both hands to her face and held them there, knowing she would never see him again.
     
    * * *
     
    Before the week was out the councilors had decided that Dawn-of-the-sky might