by Michael Aye
Moses started to chide his friend, but seeing the look on his face he change his mind. Mary might be thinking about Jonah, but Jonah’s thoughts were on Ana.
Chapter Eighteen
The men spoke very little on the return trip to Fort Strother. They had seen plenty of signs that the Red Sticks were not slowing down in their aggressive actions to wipe out the settlers in what they considered their lands. Mary’s homestead was just the latest. She had admitted that one of the braves had spoken up for her and that was probably the only reason she was still alive. Her family had come across the Indian when he was a boy, and he’d fallen and busted his leg. They had splinted the leg, and Mary had hand-carried food and water to him. Now he was a brave, a warrior and had taken part in the raiding party. Mary was not sure if he’d killed anyone. He’d shown up when another brave had just jammed the arrow in her buttocks. They were fondling her breasts and poking them with another arrow. Her fear was they were going to pierce her breasts like they had her other end. But the brave her family had helped showed up. He roughly pulled the Indian with the arrow away and after a heated conversation, the Indians mounted up and rode away. The young brave who had intervened paused only long enough to look Mary’s way, nod slightly and ride away following the others.
“I don’t understand it,” Lieupo said. “How can you so casually mistreat and murder people you have known for years. It’s hard to fathom.”
“Well,“ Crockett said, pausing to take a drink of water from his canteen. “It ain’t all one-sided.”
“You mean we are guilty of similar acts?” Lieupo asked, not believing Crockett.
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Crockett said. “Of course, you don’t have to believe me. You can ask old Henry. He’ll tell you. He was at Talladega same as me.”
When Crockett didn’t continue, Lieupo called him, “That’s it, Davy? You tell me we are guilty of the same type of mayhem and then you just drop it.”
Crockett lowered his long rifle to the ground. After standing silent for a minute and looking about, Crockett lifted his rifle and pointed. “It’s late and that little clearing behind those rocks will make a good camp.” He still hadn’t answered Lieupo’s question.
Lieupo took a step toward Crockett to pursue the subject. Sensing that Crockett didn’t want to speak of that time, Jonah laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder and shook his head no. Lieupo shrugged but let it drop.
-
Moses had hooked up with the cook back at Fort Williams. The cook had parted with a bag of crackling bread: cornbread fried with cut up pork skins in the batter. He also had given Moses what was left of a shoulder of smoked ham. Unknowingly, he had also parted with a sack of chicory coffee and a bag of salt. This had been taken when the cook went to fetch the smoked ham. Moses had not been the only scrounger. Crockett had confiscated an extra canteen, which he’d filled with corn squeezing. He’d not opened the canteen all day. After the men had their meal and laid out their blankets, Crockett reached for the canteen.
Pulling the cork free, he passed it to Moses saying, “It’ll help take away the chill.” Each of the men took a swig and then passed the canteen back to Crockett. He took a swig, and then as an afterthought, took one more. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He then offered the canteen to Moses who shook his head no. Crockett corked the canteen and with his back propped against a boulder, he pulled his blanket over his legs. He laid his rifle so it was within easy reach and then shuffled his back, back and forth, against the rock until he was comfortable.
“He was there, Henry was, same as me. He’ll tell you.” Crockett had spoken when it was least expected. Maybe he’d had to gather his thoughts. Jonah wasn’t sure, but they let Crockett tell his tale without interruption. “A friendly Creek heard the Red Sticks making plans to attack Leslie’s fort. So he skedaddled out of there and hit the trail to Fort Strother. There he told what he’d heard. Andy quickly gathered up a force to protect Fort Leslie from the raid. Henry and I were sent out as scouts. We left Fort Strother at midnight to cut down on any movement being reported to Menawa or Red Eagle. We forded the Coosa River at a place that was about six hundred yards across. To cut down on the time it took to ford the river, each of the cavalrymen carried a foot soldier. Riding double like this, the crossing didn’t take much time at all. We marched all that day through some rough country, fighting underbrush, deadfalls, vines, and skeeters. That evening, we made a cold camp. Henry and I set out to find the Red Sticks’ camp. We hadn’t gone five or six miles and there it was…a big camp. Henry pointed out Weatherford…Red Eagle is his Indian name. It was all I could do to keep the old he-coon from putting a ball through the Indian right then and there. Menawa was there, as were some of his prophets, all making big medicine. We watched for awhile but Peter McQueen, the half-breed, kept looking our way. I knew he couldn’t see us but it made me nervous, so I pulled on old Henry and we got out of there. We took a roundabout way back to the main camp. ‘They’re there,’ Henry said to Andy, ‘Upwards a thousand of the Red Devils at Talladega town, not six miles from where we stand right now.’ Excited, Andy called his officers together and planned our attack. We broke camp at four a.m. on the ninth. I know what time it was because Andy told Captain Reid to make a note of the time. We had a good size army at that time. Twelve hundred foot soldiers and eight hundred horse soldiers. How we made it without getting spotted is a mystery…a pure mystery. We made our way to Leslie’s fort. Russell had his scouts out, which Henry and I was part of. We came upon a mess of the Indians sliding through the woods getting ready to carry out their attack, still unaware we were about. When all the scouts came back and reported, Andy figured there was somewhere between ten and eleven hundred Red Sticks. Andy divided his forces so as to make a circle around the heathens. He then told Captain Russell to bring on the battle. Once we got everyone in place, we poured it on. Henry looked everywhere for Red Eagle but couldn’t find him. Once we cut loose, those Red Sticks came charging. They were painted red as scarlet and naked as the day they were born. When they rushed, it reminded me of a cloud of Egyptian locust you read about in the bible. They were screaming like the devils of hell had all been turned loose and the head devil himself was there in the lead. Of course, we were pouring it into them as fast as we could shoot, reload, and shoot again. We must have dropped a hundred of them right off the start. After another volley, one of their prophets fell. I don’t know if it was because he fell or what, but the charge broke. Then like a gang of steers, the Red Sticks ran toward the other line. All the while they were constantly under a heavy fire. We had killed upward of four hundred of the devils in no time at all. They fought with guns, bows and arrows but didn’t have a chance. I thought we’d kill them all before it was over. And then to old Andy’s dismay, a band of drafted militiamen misunderstood orders and retreated. This left a hole in our lines which was quickly discovered and seven hundred or so Red Sticks high-tailed it out of there through that opening.”
Crockett paused and let out a sigh. “If those militiamen had held their ground, we’d have ended the war right then and there. The poor devils didn’t have a chance. I fired old Betsy here,” he said, patting the long rifle at his side, “until the barrel was so hot it burned my hand. We lost seventeen to death that day, and maybe seventy-five to eighty-five wounded. That was the second battle in six days where we killed over six hundred Indians, many of them women and children.” Pausing a minute, Crockett picked up the corn liquor canteen and took another swig, a long swig. He corked the canteen without offering to share it. It was obvious that he was in deep thought, his mind elsewhere. In a minute, he looked toward his companions and said, “It ain’t something you care to dwell on.”
Chapter Nineteen
Sam Houston greeted the group soon after they had returned to the fort. “The Cherokees are having a feast tonight,” Houston said. “Sequoia has extended an invitation to you.”
“To us?” Jonah asked, not sure why they would be invite
d.
“Well, it’s mostly to Moses,” Houston admitted, “but courtesy requires since you are friends that you all be invited.”
Smiling, Jonah suddenly understood. Moses had spent his free time in the Cherokee camp just outside the fort. More than likely, one of the chief’s daughters had set her mind on his friend. Several fires were roaring in the Cherokee camp, and hot coals from the fire were being raked into a pit over which venison hung from a spit, roasting. Seeing Jonah looking at and sniffing the meat, the Indian squaw cooking the meat picked up a wicked looking knife and ran the blade through the smoking meat. She laid the slice on a slab of wood and then she reached into a bag sitting on a rock and sprinkled a few pinches of what looked like salt over the meat and handed it to Jonah.
Jonah took his own knife from its scabbard. He cut off a small piece and stabbed it with the point of his blade. He sniffed the meat and then popped it into his mouth. He closed his eyes as the flavor lit up his taste buds. This was the best meat he’d eaten since Christmas.
Houston walked up and said, “Not bad, is it?”
“Humm…” Jonah moaned. He chewed the meat and swallowed, and then answered, “No, it’s not bad, at all. Fact is it’s the best I’ve eaten since we left home.”
“Here’s a little something to wash it down,” Houston said and handed him a bottle.
Taking a quick slug, Jonah lowered the bottle coughing and tears in his eyes. “Rum…,” he said between coughs.
Smiling, Houston said, “I thought you’d like it.” Jonah ceased coughing and then took a small swallow, handing the bottle back to Houston, muttering thanks. Taking the bottle, Houston tipped it back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank down a long swallow. He let the bottle down and grinned, his permanent scowl softening some. “Damned if that won’t put a fire in your gut.” He then asked, “Where’s Moses?”
“I am not sure,” Jonah admitted. “I smelled the meat and stopped at the cook fire. Moses and Lieupo kept going.”
Handing the bottle to Jonah, Houston picked up a clean slab of wood and held it out toward the squaw. As with Jonah, the squaw sliced off a hunk of meat and sprinkled a pinch of salt over it.
“Collonneh like?” she asked. Houston nodded and patted his belly. The squaw seemed to swell with pride. Seeing Jonah’s stare, Houston shrugged. “Women love me. White women, squaws…they all love me.”
“Humph…” Jonah snorted. “That rum’s gone to your head.”
The two men walked on toward the center of the camp where a drum had started to beat. Several braves already sat in a circle. Jonah and Houston found an open spot and sat on the ground. Across the circle sat Moses and Lieupo. Two squaws sat with them. The young woman next to Moses was tall, slender and her skin was the color of copper. Her black hair hung in two braids. As Jonah looked about, he noticed a few older women grinning and pointing at the two.
“Moses don’t know it,” Houston said, “but he’s fixing to find out he has a Cherokee wife.”
Startled, Jonah turned toward Houston. “You think he knows this?”
“I’m not sure, but sitting at Moses’ side like she has, she’s declared herself to him, and that’s why the children and old women are grinning. Love is in the air. Among women it’s the same in any language. He might not know it yet,” Houston said again, smiling as he spoke, “but he’ll find out soon enough. He’s lucky though, that’s one of Sequoia’s daughters. She won’t be cheap but Sequoia will be fair in his price.”
Damn, Jonah thought. He’d never considered Moses getting married. When it came to women, Moses had always gravitated to his Indian heritage and not his black side. Was this due to his grandfather’s influence as a warrior or because most of the blacks they knew were slaves or servants?
Moses was nobody’s servant. Since he’d been found by Colonel Lee, he’d been raised as a free man. Not a black, and not an Indian, but a free person and a brother to Jonah.
Mama Lee! Lord, what would Mama Lee say when Moses brought home a squaw. It would take a bit of getting used to but she’d embrace it. It would not be Moses bringing home a Cherokee bride, it would just be one of her boys had brought home a wife. Jonah’s thoughts then took a detour. Would Moses’ woman want to go home? Woman…Jonah didn’t even know her name. Would she follow Moses or demand he stay with her tribe? Jonah knew most Indian women who married outside the tribe followed the husband if he didn’t stay. What would she do? Jonah couldn’t see any woman making too hard a demand on Moses. But love was something all together different. They’d have to see.
After stuffing his belly with succulent vittles and rum, Jonah soon became lethargic and decided to call it a night. Houston mumbled his good-by when Jonah said he was leaving. Houston had his eyes locked on a young maiden. Walking back to the fort, Jonah wondered how Mary was handling her recent ordeal. She had been strong while she was with her rescuers, but Jonah knew all the emotions would come tumbling down at some point. Probably in the wee hours when she lay wide awake, trying to sleep but it wouldn’t come. Hopefully, she’d have someone there to comfort her. Did Ana have someone to help her through her ordeal? Did she find comfort in one of the riverboat men who had taken her from the Indians? Had one of them taken his place, Jonah wondered. He’d given her all his private information. She knew his family lived in Thunderbolt. Hopefully, she would get word to him there. Would her rescuers let her, Jonah suddenly wondered. Was she still a captive? Jonah’s body shook with an involuntary shudder. Damn, he thought, I’m letting my mind get away from me.
Grabbing a post and pulling himself up on the wooden walkway in front of his quarters, Jonah saw newly promoted Major Russell. He’d just gotten used to calling him captain and now he was a major. Russell was talking to Henry. Jonah only caught a few words of the conversation, but it seemed Lemuel had been expected back a day or so ago and still hadn’t showed up. Shaking his head, Jonah knew this didn’t bode well for the scout. Thinking back, Jonah was sure Lemuel had left on the same day his group departed. They’d added an extra day…day and a half taking Mary to Fort Williams. Not good, Jonah decided. Hopefully, his scalp wasn’t hanging from some Red Stick’s lance or war ax.
Undressing, Jonah climbed into his rack. Even with a full belly and a snout full of rum, sleep was elusive. His mind kept going back and forth from Lemuel to Mary to Ana. At some point, he drifted off to sleep. It seemed like it had only been a few minutes when Moses was standing over and shaking him.
“Get up, get up, Jonah. Mama Lee would have a fit thinking her boy had slept this late.”
It took a minute for Jonah to clear the fog and get his eyes to focus. When he finally was able to sit up, he looked at Moses and remembered the beautiful maiden from last night. Feeling devilish, he asked, “You married yet?”
Chapter Twenty
Lemuel had not returned by officer’s call the following day. Henry had asked Major Russell to allow him and a few volunteers to go search for him.
“I’m not going to lose another man looking for someone who is most likely dead already.” The major’s words were very blunt, truthful but blunt.
Jackson felt the same way but also needed the information Lemuel would have brought back. After a bit of pacing back and forth, Jackson stopped at the end of the table where his officers were sitting. The officers had grown accustomed to their general’s ways. He’d enter the room, take a seat and then stand and pace. When he stopped pacing, a decision had been made. “Major!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Send out another party, three or four men. If they find Lemuel, good, but what I need to know is how many Red Sticks are still able to fight, and if any of the other tribes appear to be joining them. If they join as some of our leaders think they might, we’ll have to pull men from fighting the damn Redcoats to deal with the savages. That might cost us the war.” Jackson paused and then said, “And if you find any Redcoat, I want you to take him alive and bring him back to me.”
-
The day was c
ool. A mild wind blew and the sky was clear. The men rode out of the fort without haste. They had a bag full of smoked meat, dried venison jerky, biscuits and coffee. Henry had taken Crockett’s place but otherwise it was the same group, Jonah, Moses, and Lieupo.
“Might be the last excursion I get to take before the thirty-ninth gets here,” Lieupo said, explaining why he’d volunteered to ride along.
“I’d have figured you’d want to stay close by the fort,” Henry said. “With Moses on the trail, your only competition for them pretty little squaws is Houston.”
Lieupo cleared his throat and spit. “Humph, Houston ain’t no competition. I figured I’d just let them, meaning the Cherokee maidens, rest up a bit so they’d be ready to take care of business when I get back.” This brought a chuckle from the group.
The men rode on through the woods. Jonah couldn’t help but admire God’s creation; the rolling hills full of timber, a mixture of hardwoods and pines, and streams running fast and clear. Once, when they paused to let the horses drink, they could see a school of fat trout scurry away. Magnolias grew wild, reminding Jonah of the two huge magnolia trees outside their dining room window back at Thunderbolt. His mother would stand at the window and stare at the huge flowers when they bloomed.
Seeing Jonah’s gaze, Moses spoke, “Makes you think of home, doesn’t it?” Jonah nodded but didn’t speak.
Crossing a small creek, they spooked a small herd of deer coming down to drink. “Did you see that big boy?” Lieupo asked excitedly. “He was massive.”
“A twelve point,” Jonah added.
“The rut must be over,” Moses said, joining the conversation. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t be traveling along so peaceful with those does.”
The men continued on and just at dusk heard horses on the trail up ahead. Leading the way, Henry left the trail and moved into the woods. They dismounted, and with hands over their horses’ nostrils and mouths, watched as a group of braves rode by in single file. At the end of the file a pack horse was being led. The animal was loaded down with game, turkey and deer hung over the animal’s back. One of the braves was very animated, and from his gestures it seemed he was bragging about the shot he made with his bow. The other braves were doing their best to ignore him.