by Michael Aye
“One last question, Henry,” asked the corporal. “Have we done well? The Georgia militia, I mean.”
Jonah could sense the boy’s apprehension. The desire to measure up, maybe afraid he’d fail. Looking at the old scout, Jonah could tell he recognized the young man’s apprehension also.
“Georgia has held its own, son. I don’t know if you’ve heard of General John Floyd. He had a force of about a thousand Georgia volunteers and three to four hundred friendly Creeks. They attacked the Red Sticks at a stronghold on Calibee Creek called Autossee. It happened on the same day as Jackson’s men fought the Red Sticks at the Holy Ground. Kilt two hundred or so, I’m told, and didn’t lose a dozen men. Of course, there was a sight of wounded, including General Floyd. A bunch of the Red Sticks got away, including Red Eagle, who jumped his horse off a bluff into the river. You ask me, son, I’d say the good men from Georgia have done themselves proud.” This seemed to satisfy the young soldier. “We best be getting some shut-eye,” Henry said as he stiffly rose up from the stump he’d been sitting on. He gave an exaggerated stretch and yawned. Knocking the ash out of his pipe on the heel of his hand he spoke to Jonah, “We are getting close to Fort Armstrong now. Could be we will run into hostiles without meaning to. I ’spect it wouldn’t be a bad idea if we decided to share in the watch standing at night. I know them fellas mean well, but to tell the truth, I’d hate to trust my hair on their keeping watch.” Henry looked about to see if anyone was listening and then leaned in toward Jonah and whispered, “Man my age don’t hold his water like a young pup. I always have to get up once, sometimes twice a night. Time has come in the last few days I was up, did my business, and was back in my snoggins and none of them the wiser. Could tell by you and Moses’ breathing that you had heard. Had I been a Red Stick I’d have at least one fresh scalp and a hoss or two to impress some little squaw. Might even be enough to get her in the mood to share a blanket.”
Jonah nodded and said he’d speak with Moses and Captain Lieupo. Henry nodded, “I’ll be up before dawn so I’ll take that watch. Figure we need to be on the trail come sun-up.”
Taking a last pull on his cigar, Jonah slowly looked it over, trying to decide if it was worth saving. Deciding not, he threw it into the campfire, sending sparks and small embers up into the air. Fleeting, he thought. The air quickly put the flying sparks out. Is that how it would be with Ana? A fleeting spark. Will I ever find her and will it be the same if I did? He had written his friend, Captain Hampton, who’d promised in his answer that he’d put out feelers and see if he could come up with anything. If anyone had a chance, Jonah decided, it would be Hampton. His network in the northwest had been vast, so there was no reason to think he didn’t have spies everywhere east of the Mississippi.
Chapter Nine
The sun rose high and it was hot early on. “Too blame hot for January,” Henry snarled, wiping sweat from his brow with his shirt sleeve. The men had had a cold breakfast, water, dried biscuit, and jerky. A fleeting deer was seen as the men rounded a bend. The deer had been standing alert at the edge of a small stream where it had been drinking. Seeing the column, the deer bounded away and then suddenly stopped, blew, and changed direction.
Speaking softly to Henry, Jonah said, “See that.”
“Umm, huh.”
Moses let the column close up and whispered for them to be very watchful. The narrow trail widened once across the stream. A fire in recent years had cleaned out the underbrush on both sides of the trail. The woods were not as thick as they had been, and one could see about a hundred yards deep into the forest. A rider suddenly appeared in the woods riding parallel to Jonah’s group. Jonah noticed the rider had a red plume.
“He ain’t no friendly,” Henry whispered as he used his thumb to bring the hammer of his long rifle back.
Three more Creeks rode into view. Their lean, nearly nude bodies were painted red as they followed along behind the first brave. Behind Jonah, he could hear the nervous chatter of the young militiamen as he thought of Keaton and was glad he was back at Thunderbolt. Jonah could hear Moses speaking in a hushed tone and the chatter stopped. The Indians’ ponies suddenly picked up their pace and trotted out of sight.
“Small party,” Henry volunteered, as the group stopped and milled about, relief plain on the young men’s faces.
“I thought sure we were fixing to kill a mess of Red Sticks,” the corporal said.
Henry looked at the young man and firmly said, “Don’t you go starting a shooting ’thout seeing me shoot. And then you load and shoot quick as you can. But if you see me run, boy, you fall in behind and you run like hell.” Moses cut his eyes toward Jonah and a tiny smile creased his face.
“Good advice,” Captain Lieupo said.
“Tonight we camp close up,” Henry said. “Keep the horses and mules close up. Otherwise, we liable to be minus a few of them come daybreak.”
Each of the men understood well what Parrish meant.
-
The men rode the rest of the day without spotting another Indian. Just at dusk they came upon a creek where the land jutted out so that the creek was on three sides.
“Let’s camp here,” Jonah said. “The creek will make it hard for someone to sneak up on us. We can pull a couple of downed trees closer to help make the place better defensively.”
Henry merely nodded. Moses and Jonah started unpacking the animals as Henry went about gathering wood for the campfire. Lieupo had the militiamen snaking deadfalls across the front of the camp. Moses and a couple of the militiamen broke out fishing line and soon had a mess of bream on the bank. The fish made a tasty meal, better than the cold breakfast they’d had.
“Catfish would have been better,” Moses said.
Henry agreed, but Jonah said, “Both would have been better with corn fritters and grits.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have turned down either,” Lieupo said, “but if I had my druthers, it would have been a big juicy steak like Aunt Fannie fixed that last night before we hit the trail. Steak with hot biscuits and those baked sweet potatoes with brown sugar and cinnamon. Yes, sir, I would trade all the fish in that creek for a good steak and glass of cider.”
Jonah tossed a fish tail at Lieupo and said, “Shut up or you’ll make the rest of the trip without Moses and me.”
-
The men had turned in early. The sun had been warm that morning but there was a definite chill in the night air. One of the young militiamen, Giles, whispered to Jonah, who was standing watch with the boys, “It’s awful quiet. I don’t even hear a cricket or a frog. Just the creek running.”
Jonah nodded, “It’s too damn quiet. I know it’s cold, but don’t look into the fire. And stand back from it. Keep your back to the fire and your face toward the creek. You’ll see better that way.”
The moon was full and bright. Shining down on the creek, it made the water shine. The mules and horses seemed nervous; the big gelding was pawing and looking about. Not liking it, Jonah casually walked by Moses and then Henry, nudging them with the toe of his boot. Moses was instantly wide awake. He rolled over as if he was turning in his sleep but took hold of the stock of his long rifle and gently prodded Lieupo. The captain opened his eyes but didn’t move.
On the creek, the shine on the water seemed to change. Dark spots appeared and they were moving. The drowsy Giles rubbed his eyes and then looked again. “Mr. Jonah,” he called.
A war whoop broke the silence followed by the sound of musket fire and running feet. The predawn was filled with stabbing flames as muskets cracked. Alarmed men rose from their blankets, their muskets ready, searching for a target. War whoops mixed with shouts of alarm and panic from the young militiamen were followed by cries of pain. It all seemed to come from every direction at once. Indians and horses jumped over the log barricade. Henry shot one of the braves and then clubbed another. Jonah and Moses were reloading their weapons. Lieupo, seeing another mounted brave hacking at the rope holding the horses, jumped on the back of th
e Indian’s horse, pulling the brave to the ground. Using his spent pistol as a club, Lieupo bashed his foe in the head. Jonah lined up on a brave pulling back his bowstring to fire an arrow. In a hurry, he fired too quickly and instead of hitting the Indian in the chest, he blew his jaw away, scattering teeth as the bullet passed through the jawbone. Indians were now charging from the creek.
One swinging a red-handled war ax attacked Giles. The young man was fighting for his very life, struggling with the wet, slippery brave. Moses quickly grabbed his tomahawk and gave it a throw. The sharp steel blade buried itself in the Indian’s back, severing his spine and dropping him instantly. Giles, with his face bloody, was alive and trying to reload his musket. The militiamen had been trained well in the art of loading, finding a target, firing and reloading again.
Like a nightmare, the men kept up a punishing fire, shooting at anything that moved. The mad rush was over. It ended as quickly as it had started. Besides Giles, two other militiamen were wounded, but not seriously. All would live to fight another day.
“Six,” Lieupo said, “I count six dead Indians inside our perimeter.”
“That’s all?” Giles asked. “I’d have sworn we killed a hundred.”
This caused Jonah and Moses to laugh. Henry just shook his head, “God Almighty, boy, who taught you Injun fighting?”
“Nobody, sir.”
“Humph, that’s what I thought,” Henry said. “’bout what I thought.”
PART III
Chapter Ten
The sun was sinking low and a slight change in temperature was noticeable as the day grew late. Jonah was beginning to wonder if maybe they shouldn’t have already met up with General Jackson. They’d met up with a small patrol earlier in the day, who said they should catch up with old Andy before sundown. Maybe his reckoning had been off or with the three wounded militiamen they’d traveled slower than they had realized.
They had traveled a day and a half since the skirmish without further incident. A time or two Indians could be seen, but it was Henry’s feeling that “there’s no harm in looking, so let ’em be.” Jonah and Moses were of the same accord, so they rode…cautiously, but they rode. They had not gone more than another mile when a loud boom filled the otherwise quiet forest.
“We are close now,” Henry said through clenched teeth. It amazed Jonah how the old scout could clench the stem of his pipe on one side of his mouth and talk out of the other side without losing his pipe.
Lieupo sidled up to Henry. Noticing no alarm, he asked, “Was that a cannon?”
“Yep, old Andy lets them fire off one or two before they make camp every evening just to let them know we’re about.”
“You don’t think they know?” Lieupo asked.
“Sure they do, most of the time,” Henry answered. “He just wants them to know he knows.”
Moses looked at Jonah and cut his eyes, not sure if that had anything to do with it at all. “Most likely, it is just to let the men practice, would be my guess,” Moses said.
“Well, thar’s that too,” Henry admitted.
The group had not gone more than a couple hundred yards when a buckskin-clad figure stepped out into the trail as they rounded a bend.
“Whoa,” Jonah said, as he and Moses pulled hard on the reins to check their mounts.
“You liable to get trampled that way, Davy. You ought to know better than stepping out like that.” Turning to his fellow travelers, Henry introduced them. “Men, this varmint here is Davy Crockett. He came down with a passel of boys from Tennessee to help Andy rid us of the pestering Red Sticks.”
Crockett stood before them, leaning on his long rifle and grinning from ear to ear. After a few words of good-natured bickering, Davy said, “Ya’ll follow me and I’ll take you to old Andy’s camp.” With that he loped off.
As Jonah’s group urged their horses forward, Henry took his pipe from his mouth, spat, and said not too quietly, “Don’t believe anything Crockett tells you. Biggest liar ever walked the hills of Tennessee. That is, unless he’s talking Red Stick trouble, and then believe everything he says. He’s a natural scrapper that one is.”
“Why does he lie?” Lieupo asked in a sincere voice.
“For the fun of it,” Henry replied with a chuckle. “Purely for the fun of it. Gets so tickled by his tales sometimes, he gets bull yearlings in his eyes.”
Seeing that Lieupo was lost at the term bull yearlings, Moses added, “Tears, big tears.”
Henry continued, “Like as not, tonight he’ll have the camp believing he scared us half to death. Of course, they will know he’ll be lying but they laugh just the same. I heard General Coffee say it was good for the men to laugh, like medicine for the soul.”
“Well, it sounds like he’s full of manure,” Lieupo said.
“I doubt he’d disagree with you, Captain, but like I said, he’s a scrapper.”
-
The men rode into camp as everyone was getting ready for the evening meal. “Looks like we got more fixins than they do,” Moss muttered.
“They ain’t having no feast,” Henry agreed. “It’s been that way from the get go. Short supplies, wore out men and wore out horses. But still Andy keeps pushing. There ain’t any back-up in Andy by God Jackson.” The men trailed behind Henry to an area that was less crowded.
“Captain Lieupo,” Jonah said formally, “maybe we should go report in to General Jackson. You come along as well, Moses.” Jonah had spotted a few slaves in camp and he wanted to establish Moses as his own man from the start. Not that he couldn’t set the record straight on his own, but by doing it this way it might prevent trouble down the road. As the three men approached the command tent, Jonah stopped suddenly, almost causing Lieupo to run into his back. “Sorry,” Jonah muttered as he started again.
Jackson stooped as he ducked from under the tent opening, wincing as he brushed his arm against the flap. Jonah had heard he’d been wounded in a duel. It must still be bothering him, Jonah thought. As Jackson stood erect it was apparent he was taller than the average man, well over six feet, Jonah guessed. He appeared to be very thin and frail, without an ounce of fat on his lean body. His face was long and his jaw looked like it was chiseled from granite. His hair was unruly and prematurely gray. Hadn’t seen a comb in weeks, Jonah would guess. He had a very obvious and prominent scar on his cheek. Was that from a duel as well, Jonah wondered? His nose reminded Jonah of an eagle or hawk’s beak. He wore a pair of baggy brown pants, and his blue coat hung over his shoulders like sack cloth. Only his eyes gave away the true nature of the man. They were blue but had a fiery piercing quality to them. They were set under bushy brows, the likes of which Jonah had never seen. Yes, it was the eyes that identified the man for what he was. Andy Jackson was a warrior. There was no doubt in Jonah’s mind the stories he’d heard about the man were true. Very few men caused Jonah to feel in awe, but this one did. There was little doubt the man possessed the courage of a bear. He would be ferocious and relentless in his pursuit of the enemy, and God help any man who got in his way.
No wonder the president felt Jackson needed a strong hand to subdue the man on occasion. His relentless will would not tolerate weakness, neither in his men or himself. The Almighty might be able to exert a controlling force on Jackson, but Jonah doubted he could. Clearing his throat, Jonah stepped forward, reaching out his hand in greeting.
“General, I’m Jonah Lee, and this is Moses. We grew up as brothers. This is Captain Stephen Lieupo. We just arrived with a small party of Georgia militiamen.” He had rushed through the introductions. Jonah noted the general did little more than raise his eyes toward Moses when Jonah had introduced him.
Jackson shook hands with the men vigorously. “It’s always a pleasure to gain volunteers,” Jackson said smiling, “no matter how few.” They all chuckled at this.
“I have a letter of introduction, sir,” Jonah said, pulling the paper from its leather case. Better to get everything in the open from the start, he decided.
Thinking he might as well join in, Lieupo said, “And here are my orders, General. I will be ah…attached to the thirty-ninth, I believe.”
“Well, we’ll see about that when the thirty-ninth arrives. Captain,” Jackson called, and a man in a uniform similar to Jackson’s but in better shape appeared. “This is Captain John Reid,” he said, introducing his aide. “Make these men comfortable while I read these…letters. I’m sorry we have so little to offer other than coffee or water, gentlemen, but we have been short on rations. I have hunters out now. Hopefully, when we return to Fort Strother tomorrow, men and supplies will have arrived. I hope there’s mention in your letter from the president, Mr. Lee, how a commander is supposed to keep his forces in the field without the basics. By that, I mean the basics – men, ammunition, and food.”
Jonah, Moses, and Lieupo all looked at each other. Neither of them failed to notice Jackson had placed food at the bottom of his list. Accepting a cup of lukewarm, watered-down coffee, the men settled down to wait until…until.
Chapter Eleven
Jonah, Moses, and Captain Lieupo were all somewhat surprised when Jackson did not make another appearance or send for them that evening. Not long after the three found Henry and started making their camp, a shout of joy rang out and men rushed to the opposite side of the campsite.