MARY INSISTED THAT TECUMSEH return with her to Okelogee to spread his message among the Cherokees, but the Shawnee politely declined. He was like a migrating bird, he told her. His pathway was set; he must follow it back through the country of the Chickasaws and on to the Prophet’s Town on Tippecanoe River. At some later time, he promised, he would visit the Beloved Woman’s town.
The Runner was relieved that Tecumseh and his party did not return with his mother and him to Okelogee. He knew that the Shooting Star was a great and eloquent man, but he was uneasy over the effect he had upon Mary. In the presence of the Shawnee orator, her behavior was out of character. She became like a silly young girl, making sweet eyes at Tecumseh and caressing him with her hands.
One evening on the return journey to Okelogee, after Mary sighed loudly and remarked for the twentieth time that she was unhappy because Tecumseh was not traveling with them, the Runner told her bluntly that he was happy that the Shawnee had taken a different path from theirs.
“So my son is jealous of the great Tecumseh?” she said in surprise.
“When you are near him you behave like my sweetheart, Sehoya.”
Mary stared at him for a moment, and then she broke into laughter. “And what is so wrong with Sehoya’s behavior? You’ve told us you are going to take her for your wife.”
“She is barely seventeen. She is supposed to be coy and flirtatious in my presence.”
“And am I an old woman, not young enough for such things?” Anger showed in her eyes. “I have never felt younger in my life, Talasi the Runner. Being with Tecumseh made me feel young. Menewa made me feel young. They both regard me as though I am young and so I feel young with them. You and Opothle and your father, the Long Warrior, do not think of me as being young. You are all very dispiriting.”
The Runner knew he had distressed her. “I think of you as being beautiful,” he said. “But you are my mother. I do not expect you to behave like Sehoya.”
When beset by unwelcome emotions Mary could always laugh. She laughed now, and went over and embraced her son. “When will you wed Sehoya?” she asked.
“As soon as the Long Warrior and Qualla help me build a house.”
“You do not need a house now. My house is big enough for you to start a family. We’ll have the wedding as soon as we can make all the arrangements.”
If the Runner had wanted to change his mind about Sehoya, or even if he had wished to postpone the event, his chances of doing so were slight once Mary took charge of the proceedings. Sehoya was the daughter of the headman at Oostanaula, and the Runner had wanted her when he first saw her there on one of his frequent visits with the Okelogee ballplay team. Following their first meeting, Sehoya often accompanied her father to Okelogee when the Oostanaula players came for a game. As her father was a chief, they were always guests of the Long Warrior and Mary. After it was understood that the Runner and Sehoya were to be wed, they had spent several nights together in the corncribs of each other’s parents.
Mary saw to it that they had a proper Cherokee-Creek wedding. The Runner went into the deep forest beyond the Sleeping Woman and killed a bear, bringing the meat as his contribution to the feast. Sehoya baked bread made from corn she had raised and from chestnuts she had gathered.
Not for years had Okelogee experienced such merriment as on the wedding day, with vocal and instrumental music, dancing, and feasting that lasted far into the night. The ceremony itself was quite simple, Mary borrowing it from her Creek heritage. Sehoya and the Runner, each carrying a small pole and accompanied by a circle of dancers wearing white, met each other in the dancing square. There they drove the poles into the ground side by side, and then Opothle and Sehoya’s oldest brother brought a long tendril from a vine and twined it around the two poles.
Mary was the first to embrace them. “Make me many grandchildren!” she cried, brushing tears from her eyes and shaking with her usual hearty laughter. Everyone brought gifts. Opothle presented them with fine blankets from his storehouse, and the Long Warrior gave them a pair of matching riding horses. The only damper on the celebration was the departure of the Long Warrior immediately after the noon feast. He had to journey up to Nashville to arrange some important business with an important gentleman—a part-time horse and slave trader, lawyer, land dealer, and major general of the Tennessee militia. He was in the market for horses to be used for mounting his militiamen. His name was Andrew Jackson.
In the springtime following the wedding of the Runner and Sehoya, Okelogee received the startling news that the British were at war again with the Americans. All around them the border settlers were arming, and the Cherokee chiefs gathered hastily to debate what course their nation should follow. For some time the Cherokee council had been considering the advantage of adopting a government similar to that of the United States. As long as they could remember, friendly white men had been advising them to become like the Unegas—choose their leaders through elections, invite missionaries to teach them to be Christians, build schools so their children could learn to read and write English. Although the Long Warrior was too busy to take part in many of these discussions, both his sons became involved in the Okelogee councils, and for once the brothers laid aside their old differences and volunteered to assist in organizing a new government. Opothle went so far as to draft a proposed constitution modeled on that of the United States.
The coming of the War of 1812 brought an urgency to these aims, but there were bitter disagreements over what action the Cherokees should take. Should they remain neutral, or offer aid to either the British or the Americans in hopes of being recognized as an independent nation by the victors when the war came to a close?