This historical novel is based on the life of young Clarinda Allington, taken captive by Indians in 1793. She was kept twelve years in the Cherokee nation by a handsome and powerful war chief named Chulio Shoe Boots, who she thought to be her savior. Her heart’s desire was to someday return back to her Kentucky home. Essentially fiction, the novel contains many documented facts that reveal the fascinating relationship between the chief and his white slave girl. The conflicts surrounding the Indian nations and the frontier settlers from 1790-1806 provide a background for their story. Clarinda was an ordinary girl forced to live an extraordinary life. The fact that she survived, and her devotion to her children is testimony to her indomitable spirit. Unknown to Clarinda, all attempts by her family to find her were secretly thwarted by the chief. After learning that her capture was an intentional act engineered by him, Clarinda devised a risky and ingenious plan to gain her freedom. She returned to not only a life of poverty, but prejudice and bigotry directed at her three Indian children. Because the Cherokee held Clarinda in such high regard, she has many namesakes down through Cherokee history. She is an American legend whose story has never been told.

Ilene Shepard Smiddy is a Missouri native whose veins flow with some Cherokee blood, and whose heart beats with the Cherokee spirit. She has had a lifelong interest in Native American history, and the early settlers of Missouri. This, her first novel, is based on the true story of one of these pioneer women.

After a long career of travel and customer service with Trans World Airlines, she retired in rural Missouri to fulfill her dream of writing, and to spend time with her three grandchildren; Casey, Cheston, and Claira Jaine.

One day Clarinda counted the round stones. There were thirty-two. "We’ve been here a month," she told Susie Baker. All of the women were gathered outside the teepee.

Clarinda’s attention was drawn to a brave who was rearranging his pack. Shining Rifle was standing within a few feet of the seated Indian, smoothing arrowheads by rubbing them with a rough stone.

Watching the Indian, Clarinda caught a glimpse of something familiar. She was sure she had seen some of her family’s belongings. For a moment she hesitated, overcome with pain and anger. Then she saw a gleam of blue and gold as the brave proudly held up one of Martha’s treasured blue flowered dishes.

Without any thought for her own safety, Clarinda sprang on him like a cat, in a flying leap, screaming and kicking, biting and scratching.

The brave was caught off guard. He fell backward, trying to avoid Clarinda’s furious attack. All of the rage and humiliation she felt went into her assault. She was pounding him in the chest with her fists when the chief pulled her away from him.

Shining Rifle was laughing uproariously, as he held her back.

Clarinda’s eyes flooded with tears. "Those are my mother’s dishes," she screamed at the chief, kicking at him with her feet. "My mother’s dishes, do you understand?"

The other women had scrambled into their teepee, where they cowered together, trembling with fear. They wondered what had come over Clarinda, and what would happen to them now.

In one swift move the chief let go of Clarinda. With his powerful arms he lifted the brave bodily, holding him out in front of him with one hand. Shining Rifle pointed across the river with his free hand. The laughter was gone. His dark eyes flashed fire.

"Go," he said in English. "Go now, leave this place." The chief threw him to the ground.

The Indian jumped to his feet and hit the river running. The water splashed high around him. He did not slow down or look back.

Pandemonium had broken loose among the other braves. The chief gathered the few precious dishes into the knapsack. Grabbing hold of Clarinda’s hand, he half-dragged, half-carried her along.

"Come, we go," he said. Reaching the pen, he expertly roped two horses. The gray mare for Clarinda and for himself he cut out a big bay from among the new wild herd. He had the horses ready to ride in minutes. Claiming his few belongings, the chief tossed Clarinda on the gray and handed her the knapsack. They left the pen at a gallop and the trees closed in around them. Soon the camp was far behind, and the chief turned the horses toward the south.

With the wind tearing through her hair, and the exhilaration of the ride, Clarinda’s emotions ran rampant. The gray needed little handling, staying on the heels of the bay. She tried to think about what she had done and wondered where Shining Rifle was taking her. What would happen to the other women?

"God," Clarinda prayed aloud. "Because of me, the Indians will surely kill the others. I’m so sorry." She held tightly to the horse’s mane and cried.