Wild Indigo by Judith Stanton

of all proportion. So was his gentle welcome.
    â€œAlice will be glad to see you,” he said heartily.
    â€œShe came?” Retha looked but saw no sign of her friend’s flowing black hair. “Where is she?”
    â€œT’other side of the wagon, handing me my tools. The wheels almost came off since the Continentals requisitioned it last winter. I guess we were lucky to get it back.”
    Retha streaked around the wagon and found her only Cherokee friend in the world standing by a cumbersome toolbox, her Indian face beautiful even where smallpox had etched it. Alice greeted her in the broken German she had striven so hard to learn. The minute Retha explained about the wolf, they switched to speaking Cherokee, consciously hushing its loud tones so as not to draw attention to themselves.
    â€œMarrow bones?” Alice laughed. “Of course you can have marrow bones. And for a wolf.”
    Retha heard approval in her tone. Alice would have proudly saved such a noble animal herself. She skirted the wagon and helped Retha restack her linens. Her friend showed a lot of courage, Retha thought, to come here with her husband and risk facing crowds of white men who hated her kind. Locals and Continentals had obliterated Alice’s clanthat terrible spring seven years ago when Retha’s own adoptive Indian family had been killed. Only Alice’s ravaging smallpox had repelled the soldiers and saved her life.
    At the market, Retha chatted as Alice listened, wrapping two marrow bones in pillowslips and stuffing them between dirty sheets. It took a while to explain why the Single Sisters had grounded her to Gemein Haus . She was about to tell her friend about Jacob Blum’s amazing proposal when the buzz of the market died out.
    â€œRedcoats!” a voice cried out.
    Retha heard horses pounding up the road.
    â€œContinentals!” another shouted.
    A churning cloud of dust brought neither. Five local militia, wearing a hodgepodge of buckskin and scavenged uniforms, slowed their horses to a trot on the dusty street. Retha tensed. Unruly, half-regulated Liberty Men, who sought out Tories, Redcoats, and Cherokees with unremitting fervor in so-called support of the efforts of the Continental Army.
    Alice ducked under the wagon.
    â€œI thought they left her alone these days,” Retha muttered to Gottlieb, who stood on alert.
    â€œNow they think she’s a spy,” he grated softly.
    â€œA spy? For whom?”
    He wagged his great head in disgust but did not answer.
    Slowly Retha comprehended. After Colonials had slaughtered them, the Cherokee were allied with the British. “Alice a spy for the Redcoats? But you’re Moravian. You’re neutral. We all are.”
    â€œNo longer, Sister Retha.” She heard regret in his voice for a faith he still honored. “I went against the lot, marrying outside our faith. And a Cherokee woman to boot. Perhaps you were too young to note the scandal.”
    Retha patted his hand sympathetically and smiled. “Oh, no. Your romantic sacrifice was all the talk among the Single Sisters.”
    The huge man actually blushed.
    â€œBut what can we do for Alice now?”
    â€œLet her hide. ’Tis best if they don’t see her. Until I see who it is.” His big hands clenched and his gentle eyes blazed as the small band drew up in front of the market.
    Retha had a shock herself.
    Jacob Blum rode into the Square with the small band of Liberty Men. Sliding off his mount, the troop’s red-haired captain barked orders at his men. Jacob swung off his overworked tavern hack and confronted the captain. He answered angrily, chopping the air with the blade of his hand. With a final gesture, the captain stalked over to the spotted cow.
    Jacob marched after him, plunging into the argument as the captain haggled with the poor settler and his wife. Retha steadied herself on her friend’s strong arm, listening to the worn woman defend her