Cherokee Storm Read Online Free PDF

say?”
    Drake nodded. “A horse thief.”
    â€œHe said his name was Storm Dancer.” Shannon balled up the handkerchief and tucked it into her pocket. “He fed me, Da, and he gave me his blanket. He had every chance to do harm to me, but he didn’t.” She glared at Drake. “He has it all wrong. The Cherokee said he knew you. Said his people call you Truth Teller.”
    Her father glanced toward the cook fire. “My throat’s as dry as last year’s corn fodder. I’d not say no to a cup of real China tea, if it was offered. I’ve been drinking naught but sassafras tea for a month.”
    â€œYou know this Indian?” Nathan asked.
    Shannon remembered the war paint that had streaked Storm Dancer’s cheeks, but she didn’t speak of it. There would be time enough to tell her father when they were alone.
    â€œKnown him since he was a sprout. Winter Fox’s nephew. Cherokee take big stock in their mother’s kin. Hardly speak of their father’s.” Her father smiled at her. “Remember how I taught you the Cherokee claim the bloodline through the mother’s side?”
    Hannah Clark sniffed. “A heathen notion.”
    â€œUncivilized,” agreed Ada Baker.
    â€œSome do say so, mistress.” Da grinned. “But the upshot is that no babe is born on the wrong side of the blanket, so to speak.”
    â€œNo bastards, you mean?” Drake asked.
    â€œHush that talk in front of your mother,” Nathan chastised.
    â€œAs if I don’t hear worse from you every day,” his wife retorted. “And it speaks of bastards in the Good Book so it’s no sin for the boy to mention it.”
    â€œNo illegitimate children,” her father soothed. “For each babe does know its own mother.”
    â€œWhat of this Cherokee?” Nathan demanded. “You know him well? My boys saw him with horses that white men was riding just that morning. He’s a horse thief for certain, probably a murderer.”
    Her father appeared to consider the question. “Could be he lifted those horses. A wild one is Storm Dancer according to Winter Fox. Got a following among the young men, too. It’s hard for the tribal councils to control their hotheads, what with the French and the English competing for recruits among the Cherokee. Both sides offer bounties to fight for them.”
    â€œSo you agree he’s a danger,” Drake said.
    â€œDidn’t say that. Known the boy since he was knee high to a beaver. Never had him steal so much as a stick of candy from my store. But he might have gone hostile. I’d watch my stock if I were you. But don’t take any shots at him or any other Cherokee unless it’s him or you. Cherokee are bad about seeking revenge. You kill one of them, they’ll kill two or three of you in turn. They carry a blood feud worse than the Scots. Best you stay on the right side of the Cherokee if you’re going to live in these mountains.”
    â€œMaybe they’d better live like honest white men,” Nathan said. “Or get out of this territory.”
    â€œNot likely,” her father replied. “Cherokee been here since the days of Noah and the Flood. You’ll not pry them from this land in your lifetime or your grandbabies’.”
    Seventeen-year-old Alice Clayton twittered as she offered him a tin cup of hot tea.
    â€œMuch obliged.” He cupped the mug in his hands and inhaled the aroma with obvious delight. “Cherokee are honest for the most part.” His eyes narrowed. “But they live by their own code. Twenty-odd years I’ve lived in Cherokee territory, and I’ve called many friends and a few enemy. No better friends…and no worse enemies.” He took a sip and smiled. “Excellent tea, miss. Excellent.”
    Alice blushed and scuttled back to her mother.
    â€œYou know where to find this Storm Dancer?” Drake asked.