At first light she rode in back of them, glad the miles they’d traveled from Pitt hadn’t been many. The weather, so sunny at the outset, was now clad in mists and spiderwebs. Maples brightened the landscape, the first trees to color their leaves, and she dwelt on the beauty around her instead of the unpredictable present.
When at last they headed downhill toward town and the fort, Girty bade them farewell. Breathing easier, she looked at Clay, withholding the dozen or so questions begging to be asked.
“I don’t want to raise your hopes, but I told Girty and McKee I’d give half my land along the Monongahela to return Ross.” He lowered the brim of his hat against the setting sun. “Seems there’s been a move made by the Lenape in that direction, though I don’t yet know the gist of it.”
She stared at him, reins slack in her hands. Blossom moseyed along toward Semple’s as if she was as anxious to return there. “You’d give up half your land? Clay . . .” She swallowed, so moved she couldn’t finish.
“Like I said, I don’t know details, but I need to talk to McKee and Girty again once we’re settled at Semple’s.”
“Can I go with you? See what this is about?”
“I’d rather you wait till I find out more.” He swiped a hand across his unshaven jaw, eyes narrowing to take in the busy waterfront. “All I know at present is that it involves Netawatwees, a sachem—chief—of the Lenape.”
Tessa said no more as the tavern came into view. Did the news have to do with Ross? Keturah? The warriors Clay had taken down in the woods that eventful day? Pondering it, she dismounted at Semple’s, giving Clay a last look as he reined Bolt toward Fort Pitt.
37
Clay awaited McKee and Girty on the arrowhead tip of land where the three rivers mingled, surely one of most spectacular sights in British North America. Small wonder both Virginia and Pennsylvania waged an ongoing territorial war over which colony claimed it. Few white men ventured past Pitt. Until the border settled and peace was achieved, the West would remain no-man’s-land.
Girty and McKee appeared along Fort Pitt’s westernmost wall, walking past Edmonstone’s dwelling. Clay prayed silently as the men walked toward him, trusting McKee but never sure of Girty. They greeted him in Lenape and told him what they knew and had learned since his leaving Fort Pitt with Tessa the day before.
He listened, saying little, as Girty did most of the talking, McKee adding what he knew. In a mere quarter of an hour the matter was laid out. Would he agree to it? If so, the plan would be enacted in the morning when the sun was two fingers high. No mention was made of his land along the Monongahela, but surely it had sweetened this chancy endeavor.
Out of the corner of his eye Clay caught sight of Tessa. She was walking toward them, her indigo skirts unsettled by the wind, one hand on her new straw hat to keep it in place. The locket about her throat glinted in the late afternoon sun, a reminder of their new, everlasting tie. His wish that she remain at Semple’s was short-lived.
Her face was pinched in concern. “I’m sorry, Clay. I couldn’t stay away. Your dealings with Girty don’t set well with me. I’m not even sure about McKee.”
He wouldn’t argue. Both men had critics aplenty. Warmed by her concern, he took her hand and led her to the shade of an ancient elm where one leafy arm extended over the water. They sat atop an overturned canoe, boats of every kind tied to moorings along the river’s edge.
“Please, Clay, tell me everything. Two heads are better than one, aye?”
He pondered his reply, carefully navigating the proposition before him. “The Lenape chief, Netawatwees, is said to have called for a meeting at Keturah’s request.”
“Keturah? Is she well?”
“It would seem so, considering her summons.”
Tessa’s expression eased. “Would the meeting be here?”
“Nay. Downriver a bit, well into Indian territory. The chief won’t come to Pitt—a den of poisonous snakes, he says.”
She nodded in understanding. “So he wants to meet with you? No one else?”
She had him there. He wouldn’t lie. “He asked that you come too. Keturah is his adopted daughter among the Lenape, remember. When she first came to be with the People years ago, Netawatwees took her into his family.”
“We must go, then.”
“I told McKee and Girty I would, aye. But not you.”
“Nay? Why not? Keturah—and the chief—asked for me.”
“I’m not yet sure of the truth of that. Such might be an outright lie, a ruse. I won’t know till I get there.” The words were tight, the tension ratcheting inside him word by word. “In the morning I’ll leave with McKee and Girty by canoe. Keturah might well be the key to Ross, but I could be mistaken.”
Tessa paused, obviously trying to make sense of matters. “I’ve never pressed you, but I sense the Indians you killed that day you came after me, including the one who fell then disappeared, were known to you.”
“The one marked like a wolf, he was my Lenape brother. He was also Keturah’s husband. And kin to Netawatwees. He was—” He had an inkling Tamanen still lived—“rather, is a chief in his own right.”
“Oh, Clay.” Tears stood in her eyes. “If you go downriver you might be—”
