The Cry of the Wolf Chapter 23

Within weeks, over half the tribe lay buried in shallow graves. Cholera had decimated the Wyandotte Nation and there was absolutely nothing they could do to reverse the events.

To say a heavy cloud of anguish had descended upon the tribe was a great understatement. The piercing cries of the mourners reached the heavens yet there was no comfort to be had.

Chief Long Knife was withdrawn, gazing into the flames for hours at a time, Adelaide observing from a distance. What words could she possibly say to comfort him?

Small Bird no longer laughed at Isabella's antics, even the children were grave.

"If only there was something we could do to comfort them," Adelaide whispered.

The men were just babes in Christ - new believers and they were facing a test of faith that would have derailed most modern-day Christians. Adelaide frowned in concern, her unfocused eyes resting on her husband's back. If they became bitter…

"We must go on another raid to replace those we lost," Chief Long Knife did not look up at the rows of empty beds, the silence in the longhouse, deafening.

Adelaide gasped, covering her mouth. She remembered all too well their last raid, she and Maggie being their victims.

Those men that remained nodded. There was no time to lose.

"We will not attack the French," Chief Long Knife directed, "They have shown us mercy during this sickness and we owe much to the little man."

"Then where?" they leaned forward, hanging on their chief's words.

"To the south."

It was all they needed to know. The Jesuits and women had learned their language. Chief Long Knife wouldn't say more in front of them.

"We leave at dawn."

The few surviving warriors agreed. Brother Andrew stepped forward, no longer frightened of the natives. They were no longer savages in their eyes.

"If you will receive Christ as your Saviour, we will make sure our people supply you with guns...rifles."

Chief Long Knife leaned forward. His people only used war clubs, bows, and arrows or tomahawks. The Iroquois used rifles when they raided their villages, easily killing his people who didn't stand a chance when faced with their deadly aim, fleeing at the sound of gunpowder. This would be a game-changer.

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As the chief's wife, Adelaide calmly approached her husband, placing a gentle hand on his sinewy forearm. She'd read of this when teaching her children their history lessons. The Dutch settlers had given the Iroquois the first guns, pitting them against the French and then the English. It would not end well if they obtained guns too. She must protect her people.

Chief Long Knife concealed his surprise instantly, turning his attention to his wife. The women were the leaders of the tribe, guiding with their wisdom. Adelaide clearly loved his people, having proven it as she attended the dying.

"Salvation cannot be bribed," she murmured, her voice low as she gazed up into his eyes, "It is by faith we are saved. To say you are a Christian merely to be able to have a rifle...it will not count in the hour of death."

Maggie nodded, reaching for Falcon's hand.

Chief Long Knife was aware he did not know much about this new God, but what he did know was his people were on the verge of being wiped out. Yet, if his wife disagreed with Brother Andrew, he would have no part in it.

"We will trust this God to protect us. No, we will not accept your offer."

Brother Andrew frowned but held his tongue. Chief Long Knife didn't speak for everyone. Rifles, they would have.

Brebeuf was on the fence, finally speaking, "Our people, the French will be your allies. You have my word. In exchange for your conversions, as Brother Andrew has said, you will receive rifles to better defend yourselves. It will be our gift."

He knew they realized it would be inappropriate to refuse. He had written back to Quebec, and in turn to France, that of all the tribes they encountered, the Wyandotte were by far the most civilized and therefore, tranquil. Now that they were open to the Gospel... Yes, they must work together.

The French were great in number, yet most were fur traders. They did not make homesteads, stealing land that was not their own. Rather many chose to live like the natives and adopt their ways, even marrying women from the tribes they befriended. The French were not a threat.

In contrast, the English were arriving in droves, clearing land, cutting down trees and building homes on stolen land. Little by little, the Native Tribes were being pushed back by the encroaching white men who had no intention of living harmoniously with the natives. It was obvious who their only ally could be.

More than a handful of warriors stood, lining up to be baptized in the name of a God they did not know. They only wanted to be left in peace, yet, if this is what it took to save the lives of their families, yes, they would convert. It was a small price to pay.

"I don't like this one bit!" Adelaide muttered under her breath catching Maggie's eye.

It would be so much harder to share the truth with these precious souls now.

Chief Long Knife lowered his voice so only Adelaide could hear.

"We are weakened and have no choice."

Adelaide sighed. Were they really selling their souls?

"Postpone the raid," Brother Andrew smiled as he baptized the last warrior who had stood in line, waiting to be initiated into the new faith. "We will bring you the rifles as we promised. It will take a few weeks..."

"We don't have that time," Chief Long Knife cut him short. "If the Iroquois attack us now, we will not survive. We must grow our numbers before they discover our weakened condition. When we return, have the guns here."