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bathed regularly. They make their own soap, just like we do.”
    â€œSounds to me like you’re defendin’ them savages,” the man said angrily.
    â€œNow, calm down, John Jackson,” the reverend said. “You’ve no call to address the boy in such a manner.”
    â€œHow do we know that both the boy and the wench ain’t spies for the red devils?” Jackson demanded. “I say we banish them both from town.”
    â€œI say nay to that!” a merchant man named Abe Caney spoke up. “John, you’ve no right to accuse these people of any wrongdoing. They’ve been put through enough without adding false charges from you.”
    The others in the meeting room were quick to agree with Caney. John Jackson stood up, jerked his hat from the peg, and stormed out into the late afternoon.
    â€œPay the man no heed,” Mason said. “He’s an ill-tempered man but a good man in his own way. We’ve all fought the savages and John will stand with the best of them.”
    â€œAye,” Caney said. “And he’ll be the first to help with the building of a cabin.” He smiled. “Although he does grouse about it the whole time.”
    â€œMy child,” the Reverend Callaway said, speaking to Hannah, who was anything but a child, with a well-rounded figure and full bosom. The only thing the ladies of that time would object to were her tanned cheeks and arms. But that would be the case in the cities, not on the frontier, where women usually worked alongside their men in the fields. “Have you given thought as to the rest of your life now that you are free from the hostiles?”
    Hannah smiled. “My life was interrupted at age fourteen, Reverend Callaway. I’m afraid I haven’t been free long enough to do much thinking about the rest of it.”
    â€œOf course, of course!” He patted her hand. “Well, you can stay with us for a time, and Jamie, a young couple will be along shortly to fetch you to their home. They’re a lovely Christian couple without children and they were delighted when I sent a boy riding to their farm with news about you.”
    Jamie nodded his head. “Yes, sir,” he said.
    â€œYou’ll not be needing that bow and quiver of arrows now, Jamie,” Mason said.
    â€œI’ll keep them,” Jamie replied. He smiled. “As souvenirs.”
    * * *
    Sam and Sarah Montgomery were a nice young couple, and Jamie found himself liking them from the start. They were amazed at Jamie’s size, expecting to see a small boy of eleven, not this strong and quite capable appearing young man who, despite his young age, exuded strength and quiet confidence.
    After supper at the Callaway home, on the wagon ride back to their farm that evening, Sam asked, “Do you have much knowledge of the fields, Jamie?”
    â€œI helped Pa when I was little, yes, sir. And I had a section of the garden that was mine.”
    â€œWonderful. I’m in the process of clearing land to raise more crops.”
    â€œI haven’t had much experience with an axe, sir,” Jamie said dryly.
    Sam cut his eyes to the boy/man sitting between he and his wife. Jamie had a sense of humor, Sam discovered. But he doubted the boy rarely let it show. Probably wasn’t much to laugh about while a slave in a Shawnee town. “I imagine that’s true, Jamie,” he replied.
    Jamie knew why the quick glance. “Indians have a good sense of humor, Mr. Montgomery,” Jamie said. “They just don’t show it much around people not of their kind.”
    Sam started to say that the only good he’d ever found about Indians was when they were dead. But he held his tongue. There were dozens, hundreds, of questions the couple wanted to ask Jamie, but they did not know how or where to begin.
    â€œYou live a long way out of town,” Jamie observed, after a few moments of silence.
    â€œWe have a little