But now she had tenderness for her child, and the savage ambition of the Shawnee chief to contend against. It had long been his policy to unite his daughter with some white leader of power, for he was sufficiently educated himself to feel how unfit she would become for the savage life in which she was born; besides he wished to strengthen his political alliance with the whites and Col. John Butler, the father of this young man, was well known to the Indians as an officer of high authority among the Tories. His Tioga Rangers carried terror wherever they went, and the Shawnees had fought side by side with them in the Revolution too often for any doubt of their leader or his son. In acts of bravery, stern revenge and subtle diplomacy, such as the savages respected most, Walter Butler surpassed his father; and when Catharine looked toward the council-fires, she knew well that this young man was there, pouring his poisonous counsel into the listening ears of her people. How terribly that poison might work against herself, she did not yet know. In fact many events had transpired in the tribe during her absence from the settlement on Seneca Lake, of which she was not fully informed. Her grim mother-in-law, Queen Esther, had been busy during her late sojourn in the Mohawk Valley, and the effects of her crafty statesmanship were felt among the struggling revolutionists during the entire war. In this bold bad youth the cruel woman had found an ally, wicked and relentless as herself; in the war-councils of the Shawnees, and at the council-table of the whites he was her firm supporter.
Queen Esther had never forgiven Catharine’s first refusal of her son; the indignity galled her savage pride. To this was added jealousy of the influence and power which the younger woman had soon obtained over the chief and his tribe. In the intelligence, beauty, and stern will of Catharine, Queen Esther found a rival whom she could neither overpower, despise, or intimidate. Both as a white woman and an Indian princess, she soon learned to regard her daughter-in-law with intense hate.
Like her son, Queen Esther had resolved to strengthen herself by an alliance with Tahmeroo and some partisan of her own. The chief loved his daughter with all the strength of his rude and poetic nature, and readily listened to anything that promised to give her happiness, and which should also forward these purposes.
When he learned from the crafty old queen that Tahmeroo had met the young white chief, Walter Butler, on the lake shore, while out in her canoe, and that an attachment had sprung up between them, both his ambition and his affections were aroused. Notwithstanding the great influence that Catharine had obtained over him, the pride of manhood was strong within him, and his own right of action he yielded to no one. In this Indian blood and breeding spoke out. Over his wife, his child, and his tribe, he kept dominion. Against his will even Catharine was powerless.
When he questioned Tahmeroo, and learned how completely the young white man had wound himself around her heart; when Butler himself, knowing well how lightly such ties were regarded by his own people, came and asked his daughter in marriage, according to the usages of the tribe, Gi-en-gwa-tah, regardless of the mother’s absence, gave his child away, and adopted the young man as a Shawnee brave. With the Indians these ceremonies were solemn rites—with Walter Butler only one of the wild adventures he delighted in.
Directly after this heathen marriage, that section of the tribe which inhabited the head of Seneca Lake went to meet their brother Shawnees, who still remained on the Susquehanna. A swift runner was sent to inform Catharine Montour of the movement, and when she rejoined the warriors of her tribe, they were encamped in the Lackawanna gap, where a lodge had already been erected for her.
On the day of her arrival, and before she knew anything of these events, Tahmeroo had stealthily left the camp and made her way down the river in search of Butler. She knew well that some special ceremony was necessary to a marriage among the whites, and shrunk with terror from the very thought of confiding what had passed to her mother, till these forms were added to the Indian customs that already united them.
Butler had pacified her entreaties by the gift of coral, which Catharine took from under her pillow, and which led to that midnight explanation, and afterward to her interview with the missionary.
And now the unhappy woman sat waiting for the time of her sacrifice to arrive. As the shadows gathered darker and darker around her, Tahmeroo stole softly to the door and sat down on the turf at her feet; an hour back Catharine had spent some time in arraying her child for the ceremony that was to follow the breaking up of the council. With but silent indignation at the wrong that had been done her by the chief and his mother, she had performed her task. Of all her unhappy life this hour was filled with the heaviest and deepest trouble to that unhappy woman. Tahmeroo nestled close to her mother, took one hand in hers very tenderly, and laid her cheek in the palms.
“Mother, why are you so sad? Tahmeroo is very happy, but when she begins to smile this mournful look turns her joy into sighs.”