Pat Ramsey Beckman
Ten-year-old Michael Godfrey has lived in his brother's shadow long enough. Ever since Ma and Pa were killed by renegades, his brother Davey gets to do all the interesting things, like be a heroic fighter in the Indian Wars.
Michael can't even draw with his favorite charcoal sticks without getting into trouble.
So he strikes out on a journey to find his hero, Chief Tecumseh. The great Shawnee chieftain befriends young Michael, but is disappointed that he would rather draw pictures than shoulder a rifle and help the Indian and British in their struggle against the Americans. Finally, inspired by an artist's brightly colored oil paints, Michael finds a way to both earn Tecumseh's respect, and follow his own heart. Mixing colors from powdered wildflowers, he draws picture warning the Indians of the advance of the enemy. Although his help arrives too late for Tecumseh, Michael learns why the great chief loves him anyway, and discovers that being an artist is just as important being a warrior.
An avid storyteller since childhood, Pat Ramsey Beckman delved into the local history of Midwest America in order to place the story of Michael and David Godfrey into historical context. She shares her love of history, and writing with her children, grand-children and students. Pat's body-of-work covers the Indian Wars, the War of 1812, and post-1812 on Mackinac Island. With over 100 articles and stories in newspapers in 5 states, Pat found her voice in historical fiction, with 3 books; 3 audio tapes; a school reading/listening program. To improve reading skills of at-risk children. She has been favorably reviewed by Kliat, Parent Council and Children's Bookwatch. One book was approved by the council for Indian Education for use in Indian school.
Michael's chin quivered. Then with, relief, he saw his own arrow burried in the ground -- it was Tecumseh's weapon that had killed the buck.
'I see I have named you well,' laughed the chief. He sat down on a rotten log and pulled the teeth from the deer's mouth, which he hollowed out with a small drill used to make shell beads.
Michael felt as if Tecumseh were his own pa, and sat very close so he could feel his warm skin.
Tecumseh chewed on a piece of sinew from the deer's shoulder until it was soft enough to thread the teeth. 'This will be your opawaka, Gentle Deer.' He slipped the necklace around Michael's neck, and all the dignity of this ancient Algonquin tribe lay lightly upon his shoulders.
Michael couldn't talk. He saw smoke from the intestines steaming out of the deer's hide. The skilled hands of the chief cut the arrow from the warm heart, dividing it into strips and placing one in his mouth. He chewed it, shoving a piece at Michael. 'Wetheneto, eat some,' he said.
Michael bit into the deer's heart, cringing.
'Neaqueytha, you are no longer metticoseeah, white man's son. Squee, blood. You have taken courage of strong buck into your body. You will fear nothing now and he will live on forever in our hearts.' Quickly Tecumseh skinned, butchered and tied cuts of meat in the hide. 'We take meat, hide and brain.' He tied the legs together and slipped a pole between them to carry.
'I thought that was squaw work,' said Michael, swaggering behind. But Michael'd had enough. He yawned, dug into his pocket for his charcoal and squeezed the stick till it broke. They slid down the bank by the British Navy Yard together and lowered the deer into their canoe.
The day was clear blue and warm with a soft breeze blowing across the water. Michael gazed at the ships looming high above him. He grew dizzy looking up into the curved hull that cast its giant black shadow over him from far up in the air. Listening to the huge hulls creak with the swell of the tides, he could smell the tar, the musty ropes. He tried to memorize the lines of billowing sails stretched to the high masts, so he could sketch them later.
Suddenly he was aware of Tecumseh talking again. 'Tomorrow I will teach you to load the British pemqua teaquah, rifle.' He paddled vigorously toward Bois Blanc. Michael wondered why Tecumseh was so kind to him.
When Michael arrived at his wegiwa, he looked under his deerskin mattress. The bark strips he'd been saving to draw on were missing. He rushed from the wegiwa to ask Star Watcher if she knew where they were, but couldn't find her anywhere. When he tried to find Tecumseh, he had disappeared too; when he looked for the medicine man near the Stomp Ground, he wasn't there either. Where was everybody?
