by Mez Blume
Some of the warriors looked confused.
“You mean play a trick on Blunt?” I asked.
Jim nodded once. “That’s what I said, ain’t it?”
Birds were already beginning to announce that dawn was on its way as Imogen and I led the party on horseback across the plain towards the enormous, spiky silhouette of Hiwassee Garrison. We dismounted a good way off.
“This is where we wait,” Jim said, holding up his hand the way I’d seen him do dozens of times before.
On his cue, Crow Feather and Grasshopper leaped from their horses, threw reels of rope over their shoulders, and crouched low, slipping silently into the murky shadows.
I held my breath for what felt like ages. Imogen was shaking her foot nervously. “Immy, you’re making Robin Hood jittery,” I said over my shoulder.
“Sorry. Can’t help it,” she whispered hoarsely. “The suspense is driving me batty.”
Thankfully, before I suffocated or Imogen turned completely batty, the signal came. Off in the darkness, two lanterns were swinging back and forth in a ghostly dance.
“They’ve done it!” I said, finally letting out my breath.
Jim looked around at the warriors who were awaiting their orders and nodded. “Time to pay our respects to the Governor.”
When we reached the gate, it was already wide open. Crow Feather and Grasshopper were standing just outside over two guards who had been expertly bound and gagged, their rifles propped neatly against a post. A long rope hung from an arrow sticking out from one of the wall’s tree posts.
“You climbed that?” Imogen asked with an impressed tone as she dismounted after me.
“Grasshopper did,” Crow Feather said, putting a muscular arm around his brother’s scrawny shoulders. “Instead of Grasshopper, we should call him Skinny Squirrel.”
With the gate wide open and guards out of the way, the plan was in full swing. A few of the warriors were placed at the gate to keep watch for Black Fox in case he came looking for Blunt. The rest mounted their horses and stayed out of sight just beyond the gates. Only the four of us – Jim, Wattie, Imogen and I – ventured into the Garrison yard, Jim with his arm around Wattie’s shoulder for support as he hobbled on his injured leg. Together, we hid in the shadows of the Governor’s mansion and waited.
My ears were alert to every sound. Somewhere near the stables, a rooster crowed, then a horse whinnied, then, faintly but surely, a door creaked slowly open. I craned my neck around the box hedge and saw him there. The round-bellied Governor, his fluffy hair ruffled as if he’d just got out of bed, stepped out onto his porch and closed the door with extra care. He checked his pocket watch. I could just make out the words that he grumbled under his breath: “Lovegood is late.” His eyes darted around nervously, as if he was worried someone might be watching.
Jim threw a cloak over his head and stepped out of the shadows. Though he limped, his stride was bold. If anything, the dragging of his bad leg only made him appear more frightening. Blunt’s head turned and I could swear he jumped at the sight of the cloaked figure. With his fat hand on his heart, he leaned over and squinted, as if he were trying to make out who it was in the dim light, but Jim let the cloak hang low over his face.
“Who’s there?” Blunt tried to sound impressive, but the words came out in a croak instead. “Is that you, Black Fox?”
Jim gave no answer, only took a few slow, dragging steps forward.
The Governor’s eyes were darting around again, no doubt hoping his bodyguard Lovegood would turn up any minute. Again the Governor tried to sound in command, but his voice came out breathless; he swayed on the spot as if dizzy. “You’re early, you know. This is not the time we’d agreed. If you can’t keep your side of the deal, then I’m afraid I can’t guarantee mine.”
I had been waiting for this moment. With the Uktena stone clasped in one hand, I strode out to stand beside Jim. Then holding out my palm for the Governor to see, I asked, “You mean this?”
Governor Blunt blinked stupidly. “You again? Black Fox sent you before, didn’t he? You were spying. Who are you, the devil’s child?”
I slipped the stone in my pocket. “I’m Katie Watson. Or as my Cherokee friends like to call me, Katie Fire-Hair.”
Clinging to the iron railing, Blunt took a step down and reached out his open hand. “I don’t care what they call you. I insist that you give me that stone at once. I don’t know how you came by it, but it doesn’t belong to you.”
“As far as I recall, it don’t belong to you neither, Cyrus.” Jim let his cloak drop to the ground. There was enough light now to see every hard line of his face, his heavy, furrowed brow and the grizzly scar. He looked every bit Old Grizzly.
Blunt’s legs seemed to give out beneath him. He caught the rail with both hands. “Jim! What are you…?” He looked like he was fighting to get a grip on himself. Standing up straight again, he puffed up his chest and tugged down on his waistcoat. “You shouldn’t be here. You’ve been arrested for stealing that stone once. Don’t think I won’t have you put in prison for the same crime again. You and this little urchin.”
“I don’t think yer gonna do that, Cyrus,” Jim said with a sly smile.
“And why wouldn’t I?”
“Because then you’d have to return the stone to the people of Nickajack. I think you’ve got other plans for it. We know what yer up to. How you’ve been terrorising the village just to try and scare folk into selling their land to you. And when that didn’t work, what’d you do? You made a deal with that bloodthirsty Black Fox. The stone for his signature on your treaty. But as I see it, you got a couple of holes in your plan.”
“Like what?” Blunt snarled.
“For starters, all land treaties have to go through Washington. You’d have to get the President’s signature to make it legal, and somethin’ tells me he ain’t heard nothin’ about this treaty that names all the land of Nickajack your own personal property.” Jim gave a dry laugh. “Blunts Town.”
All the gusto deflated out of Blunt, as if he’d just been punched. “How could you know that? You’ve got no proof of …”
This was Imogen’s moment. She too stepped into the growing daylight with a scroll of paper. She let the map with Blunt’s seal unfurl before his eyes. “Actually, we do.”
Blunt’s chins quivered. He took a backwards step up the stairs. “How did you… What is this charade?”
Now Wattie stepped out to take his stand with the rest of us. “You know all about charades, don’t you, Governor? You really thought you could hoodwink the Cherokee Nation and the President of the United States?” He tutted in an imitation of Blunt.
The Governor’s eyes narrowed, and his face contorted into a hideously vicious expression. “The President will never believe the word of three children and a convicted criminal against mine,” he spat. “Anyway, once I’ve cleared Nickajack of its inhabitants, the President will thank me for ridding the land of these quarrelsome, uncivilised—”
“The only quarrelsome, uncivilised one of them is the one you’re making a bargain with, Blunt. Black Fox ain’t got no right to sign a treaty sellin’ their property. He ain’t their chief.”
Blunt threw back his head. “Ha! He will be Chief if I say he will. I’m the Cherokee Agent. Who’s to stop me?” He stepped back up onto the porch.
I watched, wondering how long it would be until the Governor darted back into his house and bolted the door. The warriors were ready to beat it down if necessary, but I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
Jim took a step closer. “You really believe Black Fox is gonna lie down and let you take that land once you’ve run the rest of ‘em off it?”
The Governor looked at Jim and, to my disgust, actually smiled, the same simpering smile he’d worn when I first met him. He crossed his hands over his fat belly. “Jim, Jim. This is why I’m in command and you’re an outcast. You never understood how to manage these people. Black Fox may be as lawless as the rest, but dangle the
bait in front of him, and he becomes as docile as a kitten. The trick is to make them dependant, desperate even.” He shook his head and gave a pitying sigh. “And you. You actually believed you could win the Cherokees’ hearts by befriending them. You are a fool, and you’ve lost yet again.”
I expected Blunt to make a run for it, but instead he smiled a ghastly smile, reached out and pulled a rope. I hadn’t even noticed the giant copper bell hanging over his front door. Blunt kept pulling with all his might, making it gong so loudly Imogen and I covered our ears.
There were shouts from behind. I spun around to see four, five, six cavalry officers spill out of a barracks, rifles on the ready. When they appeared, the Governor stopped gonging and shouted “Guards, arrest this man! … And these children!”
The officers advanced, but as they did, Wattie threw back his head and let out a war cry that sent prickles up my spine. Everyone froze. The officers stopped dead in their tracks and looked at one another uncertainly. Then, from outside the gates, Wattie’s cry was returned, louder, stronger, more piercing for the many voices joined into one.
We all turned to face the gate. Backed by the golden light of the sun’s first rays, the warriors of Nickajack galloped into the Garrison with the rushing might of a waterfall. They rode up behind us and stopped, making an arc around us. Not a one of them raised a weapon. They didn’t have to. The look on all of their faces was enough. First one guard dropped his weapon and raised his hands in surrender, then another, then one turned and ran toward the stables. His five companions followed after him, none of them paying any mind to the Governor’s shouts of “Cowards! Come back at once! Where is Lovegood when I need him? Where is that disgrace of a Lieutenant?”
“I think he’s still asleep,” Imogen called out. “In there.” She pointed to the prison.
Blunt glanced at the prison with a dazed, lost look in his eyes. They widened when he noticed Mr. McKay ride forward. “McKay!” He called out, gulping like a bullfrog. “Tell them not to hurt me! Tell them, McKay. When have I been anything but a loyal servant to these Cherokees? I… I’ve been like a ffffather to you all. Only doing what I thought was best... Yyyou surely wouldn’t hurt your own father?”
Mr. McKay dismounted and nodded to Wattie. The two of them approached the bottom of the stairs. “Of course, we haven’t come to hurt you. The Cherokee are a civilised people. Not like you, Governor.” He advanced up the stairs with Wattie behind him. “But to show our appreciation for all your service, we’re staying right here and keeping an eye on you and your lackey Lovegood until the President arrives.”
Blunt didn’t even put up a fight as they tied his hands behind him and led him down the stairs. He was looking at Mr. McKay with terror in his eyes. “The President? Coming? But how? When?”
“Soon, Governor. Soon. We sent an express message to Washington last night, so I expect he’ll know all about your little plot soon enough.”
“The President will never believe the testimony of a gang of savages. He relies upon me!” Blunt bellowed.
Jim stepped forward so he was towering over the man who had destroyed his life. The Governor cowered as if expecting Old Grizzly to take a swing at him. “Looks like you lost, Blunt.” Then Ka-Ti appeared by his side and took his arm to help him walk away.
“You’ll pay for this! You’ll be sorry!” Blunt’s threats grew fainter as Wattie and I pushed the prison door shut behind him, and Imogen did the honour of locking it.
35
Behind the Waterfall
The long night was over. Morning had come, but there was still work to be done. Not long after the sun came up, a messenger came flying on horseback into the Garrison with a letter for Mr. McKay. We all watched him open it and all held our breath until a smile spread across his face.
“The President is in Nashville! Blunt and Lovegood are to be tried in the Tennessee Supreme Court.”
Cheers and hoots went up at the news, but at the same time, many curtains covering the windows of the Governor’s mansion shifted. Since daybreak, his household had been peering out at the frightful sight of the Cherokee warriors, probably expecting a raid at any moment. Jim and Mr. McKay formed a delegation to reassure the frightened people they were not under attack. The rest of us went outside the Garrison walls to let the horses graze in the grassy meadow by the river.
Some of the warriors built fires and started preparing breakfast. A hum of low voices surrounded the five of us. Wattie and Grasshopper were roasting fish on sticks over a little fire, chatting in Cherokee and laughing as if they were two boys on a campout. Wattie had practically swung Ka-Ti off her feet when he first heard her speak; but just now, she was silent, watching the flames with a faint smile and a faraway look in her eyes. Imogen’s head was getting heavier by the minute on my shoulder.
But as much as I wanted to join in, I couldn’t rest, couldn’t laugh. I rubbed my thumb across the smooth surface of the Uktena Stone still clasped in my hand, thinking.
“Dilli sleeps like the bear in winter, but Katie Fire-Hair is too troubled to sleep.” Grasshopper was smiling in his usual mischievous way, but Wattie and Ka-Ti were watching me curiously now.
Ka-Ti rose up and sat down close beside me. Her eyes looked into mine as if searching for something. Then she said in her whispering, windy way, “Katie Fire-Hair. It is time.”
I didn’t have to ask what she meant. I knew it was time to go home. Our job here was done. But I still had a bit of unfinished business which I had just tucked into my pocket. “I just need to speak with Terrapin Jo. Then I’ll be ready.”
I wriggled out from under Imogen’s head and helped her gently slump over onto Ka-Ti’s lap where she carried on sleeping peacefully. Terrapin Jo was sitting beside another fire with Crow Feather and one of the war women, telling a story in the singsong way I’d become used to hearing the Cherokee speak. When he’d finished, he turned and, seeing me standing there, got up to speak to me.
“Katie Fire-Hair, what troubles you?”
I reached my hand into the little pocket and pulled out the stone, holding it out in my palm. “It’s this. I’ve come to give it back to you, only …”
Terrapin Jo didn’t immediately take the stone. His eyes moved to my hand and back again. “Only you fear what its power may do to the Cherokee. To Jim Weaver.”
I was shocked. He knew exactly what I had been worrying about. I nodded. “It’s just that it’s caused so many people to get hurt. And Black Fox. He still wants the stone more than anything. What if he never stops hunting it? What if he finally gets his hands on it and destroys Nickajack?”
Terrapin Jo’s deep, dark eyes narrowed in thought. “I have learned something, Katie Fire-Hair. The power of greed is strong. It causes many to suffer. But there are stronger powers.”
I looked at him, confused. “You mean the stone?”
He smiled and shook his head. “I mean the power of family. Of friendship. Of forgiveness.”
Then he reached out, I thought to take the stone. But instead, he cupped my hands in his own big, worn ones, curling my fingers around the smooth object. “You keep it,” he said.
“But I couldn’t take it,” I protested.
Terrapin Joe’s face became very serious. “You do not take. You have given us much. May this remind you always of your friends here.”
He was so earnest, almost stern, that I didn’t dare try to argue anymore. With a gulp, I pulled my hands close to my heart and whispered, “Thank you. I will always remember.”
Back at the fire with the others, Ka-Ti caught my eye and I nodded. “I’m ready.”
“Ready for what, Katie Fire-Hair?” Grasshopper asked with a grin.
“We’re going home,” I said, and at the same time Imogen sat up scratching her head. “Did I just dream that, or are we actually going home now?”
Wattie’s eyebrows were furrowed under his black curls. “Do you mean you have found your uncle?”
“Not exactly,” I began, shooting a glance a
t Ka-Ti. “But we think we’ve found a way home all the same.”
“Then I will help you get to wherever it is you need to go,” Wattie announced with an air of chivalry. “It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for my family.”
I smiled. “We wouldn’t have any other guide.”
When word got around that we were travelling back to the cave where the stone had been hidden, it was decided among the Cherokee that a group of warriors would travel with us for our protection in case Black Fox was still lurking around waiting for Blunt.
Wattie insisted that we rest a little and have a good breakfast before the journey. All the time I waited, I hoped Jim Weaver would come … that I’d have a chance to thank him. But business in the Garrison kept him away, and when the time came for us to mount our horses and take the road, it looked like we’d have to go without saying goodbye.
One foot was already in the stirrup when I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder. I looked up into Jim’s scarred face and could hardly believe it: his eyes, the very eyes that had frightened the living daylights out of me the first time I’d looked into them, were misted with tears.
“Well I don’t reckon we’ll be seein’ each other again this side of Beulah Land, Miss Fire-Hair.”
I gulped down the lump in my throat. “Thank you for everything,” I said, feeling suddenly at a loss for words.
His voice was quiet but steady. “You’ll never know just what you’ve done for my Kingfisher and me. You’ll always be part o’ the family.”
I looked into his eyes and felt no words would be enough. I threw my arms around Jim’s middle. He hesitated just a moment before wrapping one of his big arms around my shoulders and patting my head with the other hand. “You get on now, and you have a good ol’ life, you hear?” he mumbled.
I looked up and grinned through my tears. “I will if you promise to.”