As Mary and Elizabeth entered the village and put their bundles of wood down, Owessha came over to the women with bowls of corn stew and strips of venison taken hot from cooking over the fire. After giving the women this steaming refreshment, Owessha left, but soon returned with a portion of stew and meat for herself. They sat together in the warm sunlight, talking, laughing, and trading the latest gossip that each had heard. Owessha was the wife of Tinitkee, a warrior well known among the Shawnee for his bravery during battle, skill with a musket, and his thoughtful wisdom. He had often been asked his opinion when he sat in council, and there was quiet talk that one day he might be considered for the position of Chief.

Owessha, a few years older than Mary, was well known for her beauty and grace. Her fringed doe skin dress, tied about the waist with a leather belt, displayed her tall slender figure and full firm breasts. Almost white in color it contrasted with her tan native skin. Two lengthy cuts up the sides were intended to give her more freedom of movement, but they also gave glimpses of her strong and shapely legs when she walked, danced, knelt down, and even when the wind blew. Her hair, which hung down below her waist, was typical of her people. Raven black, perfectly straight, and always reflecting the light in a brilliant shine. It looked like a dark sparkling waterfall cascading down over her shoulders and back. She was truly a delight to look at, and the eyes of all the men were drawn to her.

Mary was a little envious. She to was a beautiful and well-proportioned woman. Her hair was long and brown, but it had an unruly curl to it. This gave her a disheveled look as though she had just been in a fight. Some of the Shawnee women had tried to comb it straight and neat for her, but to no avail. Even Owessha with her great patience had in time given up in frustration. Mary’s dress, now old, worn, and torn in places, no longer offered much protection to her. She knew that soon she would have to part with this last symbol of her former life. In the past month she had been ordered to help with preparing doeskins that were then cut and stitched into a dress. Mary had worn the unfinished dress several times for the women to check the sinew stitching, trim off excess leather, and cut the decorative fringe to the proper, even, length. Mary was surprised at how good the soft doeskin felt against her naked flesh. Every dress was unique from all others. Savage, yet elegantly feminine. Modest, yet alluringly sexy. Functional, yet adding graceful beauty to the simplest movement. She found herself admiring these dresses and desired to have one of her own.

As the three women talked and laughed, Mary looked around the village and realized just how happy she had become here. That had not always been the case. She had moved with her husband Joseph to the edge of the frontier in the spring of 1764. For two months they labored together, alone, clearing the land and building a small cabin from the logs. Then it happened. The broad ax glanced off a log hitting Joseph’s leg, cutting him badly. Many miles from any help, Mary did the best that she could. Joseph died from blood loss and infection three days later. Mary buried her husband under a large oak tree at the top of the hill. For hours she knelt by the fresh grave, weeping, overwhelmed by her loss.

Alone in the wilderness with an unfinished cabin, it was impossible for Mary to stay. She had planned to load her horse in the morning with what ever she could and try to make it to the closest trading post more than forty miles to the East. She knew that she could become lost and starve to death, or be injured and die, or be torn apart and eaten by wild animals, or be captured alive by hostile Indians. Capture was by far her greatest fear. She had heard countless stories of the many horrible tortures used by the Indians, and the slow screaming deaths of those taken alive.

While thinking of these possibilities Mary remembered Matthew Elliott. Only six years before Matthew had shot and killed a Delaware warrior that was part of a passing hunting party. Seventeen warriors and the eight women with them attacked Matthew’s cabin and set it on fire. Matthew, his wife, his daughter and her new husband, and another teenage daughter were captured as they escaped the flames. Mary remembered hiding with her parents in their cabin less than four hundred yards away. She could still hear the cries of the women as the warriors stripped them naked, staked them out on the ground, and then had pleasure with them. She remembered Matthew pleading for her father to shoot them as they all were being tied to trees for torture. Out of musket range and facing the same terrible fate if he fired, her father could do nothing to help them. In her mind she still could see them racing to and fro about the trees, and hear their horrible screams mixing with the laughter of the Indians as smoldering sticks touched their naked flesh. Through out the afternoon and long into the night the slow torture at the stake continued. At last, fires were kindled around the sufferers and they were finally burned to death.

A sound instantly stopped Mary’s weeping. It was the unmistakable click of a musket being cocked. Mary slowly turned and through her tears saw five painted Shawnee warriors standing close behind her. One held a steady aim at her with his musket. In her grief Mary was ready to die and turned again to face the grave before her. She waited for the blast and the musket ball to tear through her, or a fatal blow from a tomahawk, or a slash of a knife to her neck. Nothing happened. An hour later, just before sunset, the strong hand of one of the warriors helped Mary to her feet. Her hands were tied together with a leather strap and she was helped up on to a horse. Weak with grief, she did not resist. Her own horse was loaded with what few things were in the unfinished cabin. The warrior that had taken aim at Mary with his musket swung up on the horse behind her, and urged it into motion. They stopped at Joseph’s grave for a few minutes as the sun set, then proceeded on to the West.

Darkness quickly settled and travel became difficult forcing the Indians to stop for the night. Mary was taken to a tree and was forced to sit at its base. A leather strap tied her hands together with her arms around the tree trunk. A second longer strap tied her waist securely to the tree. One end of a third strap tied her feet together. This strap was pulled tight; stretching her legs straight, then the free end was tied around another tree. As a small fire was being built near by, Mary’s grief finally lifted enough that she fully realized that she was truly a captive of the Shawnee. Fear gripped her heart and for the first time and she started to franticly struggle in her bonds. Visions of being stripped naked, raped, and slowly tortured for hours or days by these savages raced through her mind. They joined with the memories of the Elliott family, squealing and writhing in pain as they were being tortured and burned alive at the stake. These thoughts formed into screams of terror that came from her lips, and echoed through the dark valley. A gag quickly muffled her screams, and in time Mary was exhausted from fighting to escape her bonds. As she gasped for breath, Mary knew that these warriors could do anything to her that they wished. It was then that something Joseph had said came back to her. “If you are taken alive by the Indians, do anything that you must do to survive. Life as a slave is better than death by slow torture at their hands. A slave can be rescued.” For the rest of the night she waited quietly while thoughts of being tortured to death screamed in her mind. Mary was ready to do anything that would save her from such a fate. Even give her body to the warriors for the pleasure of rape, if she must. She would do anything to survive.

By morning Mary had gotten a few hours of fitful sleep. She was untied and for a while was barely able to move. At last she could stand and was offered some dried meat and parched corn. After eating the bit of food Mary had her hands tied and was again helped on to the horse. Through out the day they traveled further west, deep into Shawnee territory. When they stopped that evening, a small fire was built. Mary was given more parched corn, several roots from cattail plants, which tasted like potatoes, and a piece of roasted venison from a deer killed that day. Though she did not feel hungry, she was afraid to refuse the food offered her. But once she had eaten a few bites, her hunger returned and she was grateful for the generous portion she was given.

When it was dark the warriors surrounded Mary, stripped her of her dress and shoes, and then forced her to sit naked between two trees. Her arms were tied out to the trees with leather straps. She did not resist for she had just one word in her mind. Survive. For a time the warriors gathered around her, holding her head so that they could see her face in the fire light, feeling her firm breasts, rubbing her thighs, and exploring her body with their hands. They talked quietly, laughing often, but Mary could not guess what they were saying. One warrior spoke a few words as he brought the iron poker that was taken from the unfinished cabin. The reaction and laughter of the rest of the warriors told Mary that they approved of the choice. With growing fear, she watched as the end was heated in the flames. She was about to be tortured, and she knew that she was helpless to stop it.

It was not long before the poker was taken from the fire. As the warrior slowly brought the heated end closer, Mary franticly struggled to avoid it. For some seconds he held it near her, enjoying her terror. But terror was not enough. The heated end was touched to Mary’s leg. She kicked and twisted wildly and a scream echoed through the wilderness. The warriors laughed with pleasure at her instant response. Her breast was the next target. Again a scream filled the air and Mary violently twisted her body back and forth, making her breasts shake and bounce. This brought even more delighted laughter from her tormentors. Again and again they touched her body wherever they wished. And each time her body responded. For several hours she entertained them by twisting and squirming in vain attempts to avoid the heated poker. With each touch the warriors enjoyed seeing her wildly kicking legs and writhing body, watching her shaking her breasts, and listening to her screams. At last Mary was exhausted. Only then did the warriors stop their slow torture, untied her, and allowed her to put on her dress. Again Mary was tied in the same way as the night before. Too weak to resist, but with one word still in her mind. Survive.

The next morning Mary was surprised to see that she was not covered with painful blisters and burns. Only red marks remained on her skin, a small discomfort compared to her aching muscles and joints. The warriors had been careful not to harm her. They had only wanted some entertainment and a few hours of lightly torturing her naked body had provided it. Early the next afternoon they arrived at a Shawnee village. There, while the warriors were being welcomed, several women quickly took Mary to the center of the village and tied her to a stake. The base of the stake was blackened and charred from fires that had burned there, and farther up the wood was stained with blood. She wondered how many other captives had been tortured to death on this very spot. Many of the Shawnee women came and gathered around her, laughing as they slapped her, beat her with sticks, and pinched her flesh. Mary could not understand what the women were saying and believed that soon they would be gathering wood to burn her alive.

At last, Elizabeth, another white woman who had lived among the Shawnee for over two years was brought. She told Mary that she was not going to be harmed and would live with the warrior who had found her. She was to be a slave for his wife, Owessha. Over the next weeks Elizabeth taught Mary the ways of the Shawnee. She told her that if she wanted to have a good life she must learn the Shawnee language, work hard, and do exactly what she was told. If she resisted, she could be beaten, tortured, or killed at any time. Elizabeth also warned Mary that the punishment for any slave trying to escape was a slow death by torture. Only that spring another woman had tried to escape but was recaptured the next day. She was stripped naked and tortured for three days, writhing and screaming horribly in fear and pain as more than a dozen tortures were performed on her. She and several captives from another village were tied to stakes around the woman and were forced to watch, and listen to her die. Even though Mary asked what had been done to the woman, Elizabeth refused to say. She would only shake her head and say that it was too terrible to speak about.

That was more than a year ago and Elizabeth had been right. Mary was now almost fluent with the Shawnee language, had earned the respect of Owessha and Tinitkee, and had many friends in the village. It had taken some time but she now enjoyed her life. Having many other women around to talk to and share the work with was much better than the loneliness, isolation and constant fear of living alone on the frontier. Mary still missed her husband though.

These thoughts of the past were quickly swept away as someone shouted a warning. A lone runner came into sight on the path to the village. It was a warrior from another village a few miles to the Northwest. Before even getting a drink of water he told the news of how a large force of white men had attacked a village farther to the north killing eighty-three. Many of the dead were women and children. The village had been taken by surprise because they had traded with some of the attackers many times in the past. There was to be a council of war held in this very village in three days. If revenge were to be sought, there would be a war dance to assemble the war party. This news stirred up the warriors in the village and many started checking their muskets, filling their powder horns with gunpowder, and counting the lead musket balls that they had on hand. Over the next few days Mary felt a building tension in the air.

On the appointed morning many warriors and just as many women and children arrived in the village. Each warrior was painted for battle, had a knife and tomahawk in his belt, and carried his musket. When the sun was high the Shawnee War Chief raised his hands and shouted. The warriors gathered and sat in a large circle around a fire. When it became quiet, the War Chief said a few words, then unwrapped the sacred pipe used in councils. Filling the pipe with tobacco, he lit it with a stick from the fire. Holding it high, he turned to the East, West, South and North. Last of all he sprinkled a little tobacco into the fire. The council of war had been opened. The women retreated to the lodges to discuss the events and await the outcome. One after another warriors rose and stepped to the fire to speak. There were occasional noisy outbursts but this was common with so many differing opinions. At last there was a great shout and the firing of muskets. The council had ended. Revenge would to be sought on the colonists by all the villages present.

Soon Tinitkee entered the lodge and spoke quietly to Owessha. Owessha lowered her head and the two held each other for a short time. Mary knew that something was wrong. Tinitkee came to her carrying two leather straps and told her that he must tie her hands and feet. As Mary sat on the ground her moccasins were removed. She did not resist or ask why as the straps were wrapped around her wrists and ankles several times and then tied. Captured slaves only obeyed. When he finished, Tinitkee told her that there was to be a war dance and all white captives were to be tortured and burned at the stake. He and a few others had spoken in an attempt to prevent this, but the decision was made and it could not be changed.

The impact of this knowledge stunned Mary for a few seconds. Just then a number of warriors that she had never seen before came through the door of the lodge. As they drug her out of the lodge, images of the Elliott family tore through her mind. Struggling and screaming in terror, Mary was carried to a tree in the center of the village. Even though it was hopeless, she fought wildly trying to save herself. In the process of jerking her head back and forth the left side of her mouth collided with an elbow. A few drops of blood formed on her lip and ran down her face. Five warriors held her arms around a tree and retied her hands together, painfully tight, with the leather strap. They then took a length of rope and tied her very securely to the tree. When they finished, Mary could move very little of her body other than her head. Even so, she strained to get free, throwing her head back and forth, screaming in terror. She was not alone. Elizabeth, and seven other slaves from the other villages were also being tied to nearby stakes and trees. All nine, seven women and two men, screamed in fear and begged for mercy. This brought the assembled throng of warriors, women, and children to a frenzy of excitement as they prepared for the war dance and the many long hours of torture to come.

Frantic with fear, Mary was aware of little that was happening around her. Yet somehow she saw Tinitkee and Owessha standing off to the side together. Tinitkee had his musket before him and was pouring a charge of gunpowder down the barrel. He reached into a pouch on his belt, taking out a cloth patch and a musket ball. Placing the patch and ball on the muzzle he took out the ramrod and forced the deadly projectile down on the powder. As he replaced the ramrod Owessha took one of the two eagle feathers from her hair and tied it near the muzzle. Then their eyes met. A sudden feeling of peace came over Mary. She knew that Tinitkee was going to kill her so that she would not have to endure a horrible death by slow torture.

A great quantity of wood was quickly gathered and a large fire was built near each captive. The younger women removed their long doeskin dresses and replaced them with narrow loincloths. A belt held both the loincloth and each woman’s back knife securely in place. Almost naked, the women were free to perform the swift turns, intricate gyrations, and quick kicking steps that made up their part of the war dance. Owessha felt her long hair brushing her skin, and the loincloth rubbing the inside of her legs as she practiced the steps of the dance. The sensation filled her with ancient savage cravings. Cravings for the pleasure of performing slow deliberate torture. Cravings to fill her ears with the shrill screams of fear and pain. Cravings that could only be satisfied by feasting her eyes on naked and violently writhing bodies. She knew that she would not torture Mary and Elizabeth. There were seven captives from the other villages that would feed her raging desires.

The beat of the drums soon had the painted warriors dancing around the nine captives in a counter-clockwise direction. The young women danced outside of them going the opposite way. The older men, women, and the children formed a third circle around the outside and danced in place facing in. On a certain drum beat nine women raced through the warriors, one to each captive. Each held her knife in the captives’ face, let out a war whoop, and then cut off a small piece of cloth from their clothing. Terrified, each of the captives squirmed in their bonds, but they were not harmed. They were being slowly stripped of their clothes. On one drumbeat Owessha stepped in front of Mary. Reaching behind her Owessha drew her back knife, then let out a scream as she banished it in Mary’s face. Slowly she cut off a piece of cloth as the others had done before her. As she did she spoke so that only Mary would hear.

"You must be tortured for a time and give pleasure to the people. There is no other path that can be taken. But you will die swiftly. Not slowly as the others will die. You have my word.”

Then Owessha was gone, taking a piece of Mary’s dress and her hope of a quick and somewhat painless death with her. Finally, when each captive was totally naked a cry went up from the warriors. The war dance and the torture of the captives would now begin.

Each warrior now carried either an arrow with a flint arrowhead or a sharp pointed stick decorated with feathers and scalp locks. Mary watched in fear as they danced around her. On a single loud drumbeat nine warriors danced into the circle, one to each of the naked captives. The one that danced to Mary circled her once stopping in front of her. With a grin, and his eyes sparkling with excitement, he put the point of his stick on her right breast, pushed, and drew it slowly across her firm flesh. A scream erupted from Mary’s lips and she threw her head left and right from the pain. Her body shook and squirmed for a few more seconds as the pain subsided. Looking down she saw only a bloodless scratch on her skin. She could not fathom such pain without much more injury. More screams told her that the rest of the captives were suffering from the same torture. A second loud drumbeat sounded and another painted warrior danced up to her. The point of his stick was pressed high on the inside of her thigh and slowly drawn down her leg. This time Mary’s head tilted back against the tree and her scream joined others echoing in the valley. The muscles of her leg twitched spasmodically from the pain. Another drumbeat sounded and a third warrior danced up to Mary holding an arrow. He pressed the flint point into the base of her neck and slowly drew it downward. Skipping over the ropes the point passed between her breasts on its way to her stomach. Once again the air rang with Mary’s screams as she threw her head back and forth, her body quivering and pulling on the ropes that restrained her.

Over and over the warriors repeated this torture on any part of the captives bodies that they wished. Each time the air was filled with their screams, the yells of the warriors, and the taunting laughter of the spectators. After a time Mary seemed to become unaware of what was happening around her. Held tightly in place by the ropes she seemed almost lifeless with her head hanging down until another warrior drew a sharp point across her tender flesh. Instantly her body responded to the fresh pain with more struggling and agonized screams. Mary had no knowledge of how long this horrible slow torture continued. When it finally ended her exposed flesh was covered with more than one hundred scratches from her neck down to her feet. Some were oozing blood.

A hand raised Mary’s head and a carved gourd bowl containing water was held to her lips. The cool drink returned some of her strength and clarity of mind. The woman that offered this kindness then untied the rope that had held Mary’s body almost motionless on the tree. Several other women then helped her bind Mary’s feet together with a leather strap then tied them to the base of the tree. Though still bound tightly to the tree by her arms, Mary found that she had just a little more freedom to move. She saw that the other captives were being tied in the same way and feared what torture would come next. When they finished, one of the women stood up and said to Mary.

"We will now roast your flesh with fire. You will fight hard, and scream loud for us. You will give us much pleasure.”

A drum sounded and a young warrior and woman stepped in front of Mary. The warrior held a smoldering stick so close to Mary’s face that she could feel the heat and the smoke stung her eyes. Mary jerked her head away in fear that her eyes were going to be gouged out with the glowing, smoking end. One captive screamed, then another. Mary heard Elizabeth shrieking in pain just as the warrior began to speak.

"The white men killed my son of but three moons. My wife grieves for him. She shall nurse him no more. Now white woman, I will make you not able to again nurse a child.”

The smoldering stick was lowered until it was near Mary’s right nipple. She squirmed in her bonds, trying desperately to pull her breast away. As the glowing end slowly drew nearer to her nipple Mary became frantic, her body shaking as she cried out with fear. There was the soft hiss of searing flesh an instant before Mary screamed in pain and started jerking back and forth shaking her breasts as hard as she could. In doing this she burned her breast several more times. Again and again the warrior slowly advanced the smoldering stick until it touched Mary’s nipple. Each time she responded in the same way. First, trying to escape the smoldering stick, then wildly writhing, screaming, and shaking her breasts from side to side. For half an hour the torture went on. First one nipple, then the other. Through her tears, Mary saw only delight in both the young woman’s and the warrior’s eyes as he performed his torture. Mary’s screams of pain joined with those that were coming from the other captives. When it was over, both of Mary’s nipples had been burned away and blisters covered her breasts.

The drum sounded again and a young woman stepped forward. She too held a smoldering stick close to Mary’s face as she spoke.

"My husband was killed by the white men. He was a great warrior, and hunter. No more shall I give him pleasure or again carry his child. No more will you give a man pleasure, or carry his child.”

The woman knelt down in front of Mary and made herself comfortable on a folded blanket. With one hand she smoothed a wrinkle from her loincloth displaying the contours of her right leg, while deliberately exposing the other leg for all to see. Then she pushed her long hair around her shoulders so that it covered her back, gently shaking her head to straighten it. Blowing on the burning end of the stick dislodged the soft gray ash and made it flare bright red with heat. Mary saw the smoking coal move toward her and turned her body to the left tying to escape this new torture that was about to begin. For a short time the woman played with her. Holding the stick lightly as though it were a delicate feather, she brought the burning end slowly closer to Mary’s most private and tender flesh. Holding it just an inch away she allowed Mary to feel the stinging heat. Mary quickly responded by twisting away as far as possible, her body shaking from the effort. The woman enjoyed hearing Mary’s quick shallow breaths, cries of terror, and watching her hopeless struggle to save herself. She knew that Mary was terrified of what was about to be done. A woman screamed in agony, then a man, then another women. With a quick jab of the smoldering stick, the woman before Mary began her torture.

Instantly, pain unlike any that Mary had ever experienced before tore through her, and her body reacted violently. Her hips swiveled and shook wildly in every direction while her legs jerked and strained on the unyielding straps that securely bound her ankles. She threw her head back against the tree, screaming toward the sky while her body writhed back and forth in pain. In a few seconds Mary grew still and quiet as the horrible pain subsided. She was still gasping for breath when the smoldering stick seared away a little more of her tender flesh. She responded as before with struggling and screams that delighted the watching crowd. Over and over the torture was repeated. She heard a voice begging the woman to stop, then realized that the voice that she heard was her own. At last, with just a single drum beat the torture stopped. Mary was exhausted, bathed in sweat, writhing in excruciating pain, but still very much alive. Blood stained her back, ankles, arms, and wrists from her struggling and the abrasive effects of the tree bark and leather straps. She and the other eight captives had only begun to die.

For a time the war dance appeared to be over. The warriors, older men, and older women sat around the suffering captives on blankets and deer skin robes. They talked and laughed as they told stories about battles, captives that were taken alive and their amusing deaths from favorite tortures. A few acted out the wild actions and screams of the tortured captives causing uproars of laughter. Some of the younger women moved among them delivering fresh cooked venison and bowls of stew, while most of the young women and children went out into the surrounding forest and brought back dry wood and wide pieces of bark. As they stacked the wood on the dwindling fires each became a crackling, blazing, inferno.

A few of the women attended to the nine captives. They untied them one at a time from their stake or tree and each of them collapsed at its base. They were given cool water to drink then more was poured over their aching bodies. Revived, they had their wrists tied tightly together behind their backs with one end of a long leather strap. The other end was then tied to the tree or stake. This allowed them to walk around their stake but they could not escape from it. Each of the captives took advantage of this limited freedom to move as far away from the hot fires as they could. They sat quietly with their heads down, each in their own world of intense pain. Mary looked around and saw Elizabeth and the seven other captives. It appeared that they had been tortured in the same way that she had been. One of the men was facing her and she could see that his genitals was horribly burned and blistered. Silently she prayed for the quick death that Owessha had promised.

At dusk the fires had burned down to large piles of coals and the drum started the regular beat of another dance song. The older women formed a circle around the captives and danced slowly around them. Everyone else stood around the outside singing the war song. Suddenly nine young women took burning sticks from the fires and ran screaming to the captives. They forced the captives to stand by threatening to burn their legs and hips. One man and woman resisted for a moment but a few sharp prods with the burning ends produced cries of pain and brought them quickly to their feet. Eighteen of the older women walked to the fires and scooped up a quantity of burning coals with wide pieces of bark. Two of them walked to each of the captives and spread the coals on the ground at the base of their trees and stakes. They danced once around the captives, the long fringe of their dresses swinging in time to the drums. When they returned to their places, eighteen more women did the same, covering more of the ground with hot coals. After the tenth time, most of the ground around the trees and stakes was thickly covered with burning coals. The captives had only a small place left to stand.

Mary felt the heat stinging her feet and legs as she stood on the small patch of earth. Using her feet she rubbed first one leg, then the other to cool her skin and get what relief she could. With growing terror Mary watched as two more women approached her with their heaps of burning coals. Yanking on the leather strap she started screaming “No”, first in Shawnee, then in English, as she became frantic from fear. For a moment they hesitated, waiting for all of the other women to reach their captives, then together they poured the coals on their feet.

Mary jumped, spreading her feet wide to avoid these new coals but all of the ground was now covered. The soles of her feet had nowhere to land but on glowing embers. Again and again she jumped, lunging, trying to get away from the tree and the burning coals that were now under her. Unable to escape, she dashed around the tree, first one way, then the other making short screams of pain as she went. As burning coals wedged between her toes she kicked and flailed her legs in an effort to dislodge them. Five times she stumbled and fell. Rolling and thrashing wildly, she scattered the coals, sending up clouds of glowing sparks, and filled the air with her screams. Each time she regained her feet and ran on, covered with burns, sweating profusely, coated with ash, charred wood, and burning coals that had fused to her skin.

Mary and the other captives became like wild animals that were slowly burning to death. Their bodies responded to the torture totally by instinct. Kicking, writhing, and squealing in agony, they franticly ran to and fro. The children repeatedly raced up to them with handfuls of dry grass and hemlock twigs that they threw on the coals. The tinder burst into flame, brightly illuminating the captive’s naked thrashing bodies, their straining muscles, and their shining eyes, wide with terror and pain. The violent noisy spectacle delighted the watching crowd. They laughed and shouted with pleasure until the coals were scattered and cooling. When each captive had found a place where they could stand or kneel they stopped, gasping for breath from the exertion and pain. The captives were allowed to rest for a short time as some of the young women were piling wood on the fires. The rising flames would continue to illuminate them in the gathering darkness.

The drum started beating in a steady rhythm and immediately the warriors formed small circles around each captive. The young women danced in their circle around them. The rest danced in place on the outside, singing the war song. As the warriors danced around the captives each took a burning stick from the fire. When the drum stopped the warriors began touching the legs of the captives with the burning ends.

Mary saw the flaming stick jab toward her and tried to jump out of the way. It touched the inside of her thigh and sent searing pain through her body. Screaming, her naked body jerked and twisted while she kicked her leg in all directions trying futilely to relieve the agony. When she stopped kicking and writhing from the pain the warrior thrust again with his stick, but missed as Mary raced around the tree. As she ran, other warriors met her with their burning sticks. One poked Mary on the back of her leg branding her sweating flesh. Twenty seconds later another pressed his burning ember onto the front of her right hip. Then a warrior held his flaming stick to the side of her leg. Mary circled the tree twice winding the entire leather strap around it. When she turned to run the other way a warrior stepped in front of her. He forced his burning stick between the top of her legs, searing a very tender, and yet unburned part of her body. With each touch Mary jumped and screamed, kicking and thrashing in a wild dance, her breasts bouncing and shaking as she twisted and writhed from the pain. It was this useless instinctive reaction that the warriors found so entertaining. For over an hour they slowly tortured her, burning only her legs, and laughing as they watched and listened to the result.

At last this torture ended. Mary and the other captives were exhausted to the point that they could no longer stand. The young women again brought water for them to drink and to cool their sweating bodies. As she sat on the ground, gasping for breath and sipping some water, Mary spoke to the woman kneeling before her in a voice horse from screaming.

"Kill me. Please. Please have mercy. Kill me quickly.”

The woman quietly replied, “We will kill you. But you shall die in the way that we desire, with slowness and great pain. You will give us much more pleasure first. When you no longer please us, you will die.”

As Mary and the other captives drank and rested they saw the warriors returning to the dance circle with their muskets. As they watched, each warrior poured a charge of gunpowder down the barrel then placed a small piece of cloth over the muzzle. Using the ramrod they forced this down onto the powder to hold it in place. After charging the flash pan with powder the musket was ready to fire. The warriors, however, did not load the bullet, a round ball of lead. Some captives watched in terror as the muskets were loaded in this manor. They knew of the torture that was about to begin, but the rest, including Mary, did not.

When each warrior was ready the drum began its beat. The women brought the captives to their feet with flaming sticks just as they had done before. No one resisted. The warriors shouted as they danced around the captives, some holding their muskets high, others acting out a battle they had taken part in. Suddenly there was a musket blast and a man screamed. Then three more blasts and each time a woman screamed in agony. Mary saw a musket barrel near Elizabeth and just as she jerked away there was a white blast of flame and smoke from the muzzle. Through the smoke Mary saw Elizabeth’s body twisting wildly, screaming in pain. There was another blast and Mary saw a man rolling and kicking on the ground. He was screaming as powder smoke rose from his genitals.

One painted warrior danced close to Mary, then turning quickly to his left he swung the muzzle of his musket to within a few inches of her left hip. Before she could even react there was the click of a falling hammer followed instantly by a hollow boom. A jet of flame seared her skin and blasted burning gunpowder into her flesh. A thousand white-hot needles of pain sent Mary’s body into a violent, writhing, screaming, dance. Kicking her leg and shaking her hips, she spun around wrapping the leather strap around her. After about a minute another warrior danced toward Mary. As she tried to escape around the tree, another warrior stepped forward and thrust the muzzle of his musket toward her. A blast of flame seared the side of her right breast. Mary’s body threw itself back and forth shaking her breasts hard while her screams of agony echoed through the night. Another warrior fired his musket into her back sending her running around the tree. Tripped by an unseen foot Mary fell hard on the ground. A warrior pinned her down on her back, his foot on her chest. Aiming first at her face, he very slowly moved the muzzle of his musket down her quivering body until it was pointed just above the top of her legs. A blast of flame and burning powder tore into her flesh leaving her heaving, kicking, and rolling on the ground, squealing in agony. Lost in her world of pain, blinded by the sulfur smoke, Mary was not aware of the pleasure she was giving the watching crowd. They laughed and shouted their approval of the warriors’ dance, and Mary’s response to their torture.

Ten times warriors fired into various parts of Mary’s naked body. Exhausted and dazed, she stumbled around the tree, almost beyond the ability of feeling any more pain. Then another musket was pointed at her chest just below her left breast. Tied to the muzzle was a single eagle feather. Mary’s eyes followed the barrel back to Tinitkee. By his side stood Owessha. Their eyes met for just a second.

There was a flash from the priming followed instantly by the sharp crack of a musket loaded heavily with powder and a patched ball. Mary’s body was driven violently backward against the tree by the blast and the force of the ball that tore through her heart. For a second she looked straight ahead seeing only Tinitkee and Owessha. Strangely, she no longer felt any pain. A warm feeling quickly spread through her body along with a sensation of total peace. As a gathering darkness took Owessha and Tinitkee from her sight, her knees buckled. She dropped to a kneeling position, then fell over heavily on her right side. For a few seconds her leg and arm twitched slightly, then they were still. Mary was dead.

As the warriors danced, each of the remaining eight captives had more than thirty loads of gunpowder fired into each of their bodies. When the drum stopped the young women revived them again with more water, but they were now weak from the hours of torture. Those who had not lost their voice from screaming were begging for someone to kill them. Tinitkee and Owessha cut the strap tying Mary’s hands and together they took her body to their lodge. When they returned, Elizabeth and the seven other captives were being prepared for even more torture. They were sitting on the ground with their arms pulled back around the trees and stakes while their hands were being tied together tightly with leather straps.

Everyone crowded around the captives, laughing as they talked about their favorite cruel tortures, deciding which one they should use on each. Tinitkee and another warrior held the feet of one woman, pulling her legs straight, apart at an angle, and slightly upward. The women kindled a small fire on both sides of her, brightly illuminating her naked tortured flesh. Thick sticks were laid on the fire with one end in the growing flame. Owessha and another woman knelt on each side of her legs, while a third woman knelt in the space between them. Two warriors took their places on both sides of her body. They were ready to begin the torture that they had chosen for the woman, and they did not have to wait long. As soon as the sticks were ready, Owessha and the other women used them to burn the woman’s legs with fire. Every few minutes they used their back knives to scrape off the blistered and loosened skin. While the women were enjoying themselves, the warriors were performing a similar torture on her breasts and the rest of her once attractive body. The woman delighted her tormentors by making grunts and cries, her body jerking as it responded to the fire and knives. Tinitkee and the other warrior did not try to hold her motionless. Her weakening struggles and straining leg muscles made it more pleasurable to watch, and prolonged the torture by making it more difficult for those burning and skinning her alive.

Tinitkee enjoyed watching Owessha. Kneeling on the ground, her loincloth fell between her legs making her beautiful body almost naked in the front. Her breasts jiggled as she laughed while gently holding the flame to the woman, and when trying to scrape the blistered skin from her twitching and jerking leg. Her dark eyes sparkled in the firelight with the excitement and pleasure she was having from this savage entertainment. After a short while she stood up, shook her hips to straighten her loincloth, then brushed her hair back over her shoulders. Stepping to the back she made room for a young girl waiting for her chance to torture the dying woman. She watched as the girl held a flaming stick under the woman’s leg, and joined in the laughter as she squealed and tried desperately to pull her leg away. Circling around to Tinitkee, she put her arm around him and smiled.

After an hour of this torture, the woman and the other captives were nearly dead. With just a few words from the War Chief, eight warriors stepped to the captives and drew their knives. In a few seconds a cut was made around their heads, then the warriors pulled their scalps off. With a yell, the warriors held the trophies high for all to see. The last of the sticks and wood was piled around the captives, then a fire was started near their feet. During the final dance the captives groaned and twitched as the fires advanced up their legs, slowly roasting them to death.

While the fires burned the bodies, the War Chief stepped forward to the center of the circle and made a short speech. He told them how the Great Creator had given them this land that they lived on. He asked for all of the warriors who were able to walk the warpath, to join him in defending it. Together, they would avenge the death of their people. Together, they would bring back many captives. And together, with their women and their children, they would torture the flesh of those who had attacked them, killing many of their people, and bringing such suffering and loss. All who were willing to go were to bury the blade of their tomahawk or knife in the trunk of a nearby tree. In a moment almost one hundred fifty warriors ran to the tree, yelling as they sunk their blades into the wood. Tinitkee was among them. The dancing, the torture, the screams, the naked bodies writhing and fighting in fear and pain, and the speech had all done their work. Everyone was ready for revenge and excited about the prospect for more of the pleasures that they had just enjoyed for so many hours. The warriors were told to get ready for battle and gather here again in ten days.

It was now long into the night and everyone retired to where they would sleep. Tinitkee and Owessha went to their lodge and closed the deerskin that covered the door. The small fire in the center was almost out but Owessha coaxed it back to life with some tinder and sticks. As she fanned the growing flames Tinitkee quietly unrolled a bearskin behind her and laid it in the center of four stakes firmly driven into the ground. Beside the skin he laid four leather straps. Just as Owessha stood up from the fire, Tinitkee grabbed her around the waist. He gently threw her on to the bearskin, rolled her onto her back, and then pinned her arms down. For a few seconds she playfully struggled, then gave it to his greater strength. Tinitkee whispered into her ear.

"You are my captive. I will torture you, and your naked flesh will provide a feast for my eyes to enjoy. Then I will enter you, and your body will give me great pleasure.”

Owessha playfully struggled again while whispering her reply. “I do not fear your tortures! Your eyes will not feast on my flesh for I will be silent and still until I die! My body will give your flesh no pleasure!”

Tinitkee tied Owessha’s hands and one foot to three of the stakes. Then as he began tying the final strap to her free foot, Owessha began to struggle making it difficult for him. She knew how this affected Tinitkee, and that he would enjoy it. When he finished tying Owessha in a spread eagle position, he loosened the cord that held her loincloth and back knife in place. As this last bit of clothing was pulled from her, Owessha could feel how totally helpless and naked she was. Testing the straps she found them quite secure. For a few seconds she thought about what it would be like to be captured by enemy warriors. She knew that she would be tied, stripped, raped, and slowly tortured. Possibly even tortured to death. She knew that her body could provide them with many days of entertainment, and she would not be able to prevent it. But for now, her body belonged to Tinitkee.

Tinitkee played with Owessha’s body, slowly and carefully torturing her. He drew a stick across her flesh and lightly jabbed at her breasts and legs with its point. A piece of iron warmed in the fire touched her back, the backs of her legs, and anywhere he desired. With each scratch, jab, and touch, she twisted her body, pulled on the straps, tried to kick her legs, and shook her breasts while soft cries and moans of suffering came from her lips. Knowing how exciting this was to Tinitkee, she did not restrain her natural reactions to the harmless, but still painful torture. Tinitkee loved to watch Owessha’s tied and helpless body jerking and writhing, and see her muscles straining in the firelight. It was a sight that he never grew tired of. But this night he had seen too much torture. Heard too many screams. Watched too many naked bodies writhing in pain. After only half an hour he could not hold himself back any longer. Tinitkee pulled off his loincloth, and entering Owessha, she gave him great pleasure. Owessha, still tied to the stakes, writhed and yanked on the straps, crying out from her own intense pleasure. When Owessha was finally untied, she rolled Tinitkee onto his back and pinned his arms down. She whispered to him.

"The next time you will be my captive. I will torture you for a long time. And when I pleasure myself, it will be very slowly. I will make you suffer a long time from the fire in your loins. You will beg me for relief.”

Owessha and Tinitkee quietly laughed, then fell asleep in each other’s arms.

It was just after sunrise when Tinitkee and Owessha mounted their horses and quietly left the sleeping village. Tinitkee carried his musket pointed off to the side, and a small pack of supplies hung from his shoulder. Owessha’s horse pulled a travois with a heavy bundle wrapped in doeskin tied to it. Outside of the village they took a smooth and wide trail that led them eastward. Through out the day they kept traveling at a steady but unhurried pace, stopping only to rest and water the horses, and to eat. In the afternoon of the following day they arrived at a large oak tree on the top of a hill. It was the tree that shaded the grave of Joseph Thompson, Mary’s husband. Using the same shovel that Mary had used, Tinitkee dug a second grave beside Joseph’s. When he had finished, he helped Owessha untie Mary’s body and carry it to the new grave. Before burying her, Owessha untied the doeskin blanket and folded it down. Mary was now wearing in a beautiful new doeskin dress decorated with long graceful fringe on the sleeves and hem. A shell necklace that had belonged to Owessha hung about her neck, and her hair was brushed, but still had its unruly curl. Mary looked totally at peace, as though a light touch or soft-spoken word would rouse her from a pleasant dream. Tinitkee and Owessha laid a knife and its sheath, a flint and steel, a cooking pot, a large gourd spoon, a walking stick, and a new pair of moccasins beside her body. These were things that Mary would need on her journey to the spirit world. Last of all Owessha tied a single eagle feather in Mary’s hair. Owessha carefully covered Mary and the other articles with the doeskin blanket, then Tinitkee filled in the grave, covering it with flat stones to prevent wild animals from disturbing it. They placed a small quantity of food by the grave, and with a sprinkle of tobacco to the four directions, they were done. By sunset they were several miles away.

On the appointed day all the warriors assembled in the village. With shouts and the firing of muskets they departed to seek their revenge. Six days later the small outpost and the surrounding cabins were taken entirely by surprise, the attack coming early in the morning when there was just enough light to see. The Warriors silently gathered outside the settler’s cabins, and when a signal was given, there was a gentle knock on the doors as if it were a child sent for help. As soon as the bars that held the doors closed were removed, the Shawnee warriors burst in. Other cabins that did not open the doors were set on fire forcing the settlers out, or burning them alive inside. Early in the afternoon the warriors were ready to return to their villages. They had destroyed the settlement, killing sixty-two settlers. Fourteen were burned alive in their cabins and thirty-one had died fighting. Seventeen wounded settlers were immediately tortured to death in a variety of ways which included being impaled and tortured on poles, flayed with knives, roasted over burning coals, skinned alive, and burnt at the stake. Many scalps were collected and forty-five settlers were taken alive. Eleven warriors had been wounded, three seriously but all would recover. As they returned to the village, the warriors celebrated their victory by first torturing, and then burning ten of their captives at the stake. Two each night. The rest were taken to the villages. There, for several days, they were slowly tortured to death, screaming and writhing in pain for the enjoyment of all.

It was cool the evening of May 29th 1796. William Cullen burst into his cabin, slamming and barring the door behind him.

"What’s wrong?” screamed his wife Rebecca.

"Indians. Up on the hill by the oak. Shawnee I think.” William said as he grabbed his musket from over the door and checked its priming.

"Where did they come from?”

"Don’t know. I was felling a tree when I first seen them.”

"Did they see you?”

"Had to. They were right behind me and were already off their horses. I had my back to them. They could have been there a while.”

William opened the narrow window shutter and looked toward the oak.

"What are they doing?” Hissed Rebecca with obvious strain in her voice. She had heard the stories of the massacre at Fraser Creek and the horrible ways that the men and women had died there.

"Not sure. It’s a man and woman. They’re kneeling, doing something under the oak. They’re old. Got some gray in their hair. They were close enough for me to see that.”

After a little while the two Shawnee stood. The man was dressed as a warrior in a loincloth and leggings, his musket cradled in his left arm, a belt ax and knife at his side, and silver armbands that reflected the evening sunlight. The woman, her long hair covering her back, wore a white doeskin dress, its long fringe swaying gently as she moved. Both had two eagle feathers tied in their hair. They easily mounted their horses, turned west, and in a few seconds they disappeared out of sight.

"Come on,” William said. “We got a better chance in the woods if there are more of them. Don’t want to be burned out.”

Escaping out of the cabin William and Rebecca ran for the woods but saw and heard nothing unusual there. Grabbing Rebecca’s hand William sprinted for the oak tree on the hill. There, crouching low, he scanned the valley below. The two riders were well down the hill, moving slowly. William looked in all directions but saw no other Indians.

"Are you going to shoot?” asked Rebecca.

"No.” William said. “They’re almost out of range. They meant us no harm. They could have easily shot me and taken my hair, but they didn’t.”

Looking at the ground where the two Indians had been kneeling, William and Rebecca saw where two clusters of wildflowers had just been planted. Lying beside the wildflowers were small piles of tobacco, long braids of sweet grass, and dried leaves of white sage. Slowly, William stood up, still looking at the ground.

"Graves! There are two graves here!” William said quietly. “Who ever is buried here must have meant a lot to them. They have an awful lot of courage to come this far east to pay their respects. Best for us to leave this hill alone.”

William and Rebecca turned to look down the hill. As they watched, the two Indians silently faded into the valley fog and were gone. Owessha and Tinitkee were the last Shawnee to leave the Scioto River valley for the new home of their people.