River Bend

by Barbara Shepherd

  “Sky Prince needs a secret code,” he said.

  “Why is that?”

  “So the princess can warn him when an enemy sneaks up.” Johnathan struggled to say enemy. “Like a mean archer with a bow and arrow.”

  “That’s a great idea, son. The code has to be something the prince, or the princess, would not normally say.”

  “How about dungeon. Or chains?”

  “The castle has a dungeon, and it would have chains. Think harder.”

  “Alligator! He’s in my ABC book, Mama. He’s not in the castle.”

  “Hmm. Are you sure your princess knows about alligators?”

  “Frog.”

  “Does your castle have a pond nearby?”

  “Yes, and a moat, too.”

  “A moat? That’s a big castle in your story, but it might have frogs.”

  “Yes, it does, and my princess could have kissed a frog sometime.” He wrinkled his brow. “Froggy?”

  “Froggy, it is, son. I’m writing this down, but what happens when Sky Prince is warned? Does he do the same thing each time the princess alerts him to danger?”

  “Yes. He does this.” Johnathan hopped to the side.

  “What if your prince is riding his horse?”

  Johnathan jerked his body to the right. “See, Mama. I’m Sky Prince. The arrow missed me.” He kept jerking to the right.

  “I understand, Johnathan. Quit doing that or you’re going to make your neck sore.”

  They laughed and continued writing challenges for Sky Prince to master, with every adversary destined for defeat. When necessary, the princess would shout a warning—code word: Froggy.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  When a small front blew in from the north one day and cooled the grip of summer’s heat, Belle saddled Black Knight for her daily ride.

  “Early this morn,” Hannibal said.

  “Uh-huh,” Belle said. “My ride today will take me farther than usual. By getting this early start, I hope to be back by midafternoon before the humidity kicks back in.”

  “You be careful, ma’am. Want a man ride with you?”

  “No, it’s familiar territory. I’ll be fine. Advise Old Bailey of my plans after I leave.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She gave Black Knight his head, and they both enjoyed his run over the plantation’s bare fields, those sections that had borne crops for a few years and left fallow to make it fertile again for next year’s planting. The gelding slowed to a walk when they came to the edge of the property and threaded its way through timber.

  After a pleasant and long ride, Belle braced herself for what she expected to see. The burned-out shell of the Campbell house had fallen in on itself, and weeds had grown up through it. She thought what a small pile remained that had held so many family members. Fields that George had cleared and planted, aided by his older sons, would be covered in cedar sprouts and his crops choked out by Johnson grass, but she continued.

  When she rounded the end of the tree line, she yanked on the horse’s bridle.

  “Sorry, Black Knight.” She released the pressure on the reins and soothed him with her whispers. “I had no idea we’d see this.” She backed him behind some small trees.

  George’s corn, in the middle of harvest, would make any planter proud. About a dozen slaves worked his crop that day, and by the looks of it, had tended his fields for some time. Healthy plants in his potato and cotton fields indicated the promise of an abundant yield. As Belle strained to see more, without being discovered, she recognized the slaves.

  They’re the new ones from the auction block. Why are they working over here instead of in River Bend’s fields?

  She dismounted and led Black Knight away from what had once been home to the Campbell family, wondering if it had been sold or if someone had laid claim to it, legal or not. Feeling secure, she remounted and rode toward her former home, allowing the gelding a slow pace.

  “I didn’t think I had the stomach to see how the land had changed since my dugout was destroyed, Black Knight, but I have to grit my teeth and do it. It will be Johnathan Strong’s land one day, and I should at least examine it now and then.”

  Birds maintained a quiet chatter all through the timber on the way to the Strong property, but one flew over and squawked at her once she entered the clearing. He continued to follow her, never ceasing his loud squawking.

  “I apologize, Mr. Bird, if I interrupted your noonday feeding,” Belle said. He continued to squawk. Except for the remnants of a cave dug into a small hill, nothing remained of the dugout. The land looked natural, like no man had ever touched the grounds.

  Her two garden plots were another story. They had been turned into larger vegetable gardens, and more land had been cleared for a field of watermelons. Her sandy soil, so close to the river, was perfect for melons. More timber had been cleared for additional planting, the logs cut down to fit a fireplace and stacked to season.

  “I’ll bet those same slaves are working these fields.”

  If she had known where the Reynolds family had lived, she would have ridden over to see if the same conditions existed there as at the Campbell place. The north breeze had died down and the Texas humidity returned with a vengeance, so she didn’t put pressure on the gelding to hurry and missed her target practice for the day. Shadows had lengthened by the time she made it back to the plantation.

  After their baths that evening, Johnathan came into her room to show her something he had learned that day. His sweet chatter captured his mother’s attention.

  “Look what I can do,” he said. “I’m an alligator.” He lay on the floor, slid his arms to his sides, and rolled across the floor.

  “Johnathan Michael, you’ll get your night clothes dirty.”

  “No, I won’t,” he said. “I helped scrub floors today. See? Alligator.” He continued to roll until they were both laughing.

  “Time for bed,” she said. Although he was growing big, she picked him up and carried him to his room. While tucking him into bed, they said their prayers together. By the time he mentioned all their friends to God, the boy’s eyelids fluttered shut.

  The next morning, Belle paced across the front porch, each step adding to her frustration. She wanted to confront Phineas about the new slaves working outside the plantation but felt certain that was his plan. Even if he admitted wrongdoing, he was free to continue. What could she do? She had no authority to terminate his employment and had no officer of the law to remove him from the premises if she did.

  Lizzie called up to her from the lawn. “Lawsy, missy, you goin’ ta wear them boards out.”

  “Oh, Lizzie, you all always watch out for me. I’m just trying to solve a problem.”

  “You come ta make biscuits with me, missy.”

  Belle smiled down at the sweet woman she had beaten biscuits with when she first came to River Bend. Seems like a lifetime ago. She watched the old slave walk away, a hobble to her step of late.

  A short time later, Belle mixed up dough and beat biscuits in Lizzie’s kitchen, pounding the dough like she wanted to punch the overseer. Lizzie cautioned her not to overdo and make the biscuit dough tough, but her words fell on deaf ears.

  “Lizzie, do those new slaves eat and sleep here on the plantation?”

  “Shore do. Big eaters. They sets down first ’cause they goes ta field afore sun peeks out. They’s last for supper. ’Bout to eat me outta vittles.”

  “Sounds like they’re walking farther than our regular workers.”

  “They says so. Why you axin’ me ’bout these things, missy?”

  “No special reason, Lizzie. I just wanted conversation from someone older than a little boy who talks about exotic animals and castles. He remembers everything I read to him, but he wears me out reciting rhymes.”

  Although Belle hadn’t found a solution for her dilemma, she had gained more facts. Feeling a little better after beating biscuits with the iron rod, she looked forward to slathering the morsels w
ith butter and blackberry jam before popping them into her mouth.

  In her room, she tried to sew but paced instead. Even a mysterious packet of fabric found on the front porch that day failed to brighten her mood.

  Maybe I should just leave. Perhaps, I could make a living with my sewing. I wouldn’t have to go back to the Carolinas. Johnathan and I could go to Missouri. Stephen mentioned Jefferson City built schools and churches some time ago.

  “At least, they’d have a constable there, or a marshal to keep the peace, and a court to pass judgment. This is a big step. I need to sleep on it and pray about it.”

  The next morning brought more indecision. Aggravated, she rode out for target practice and shot more times than usual but in rapid succession. Returning earlier than her normal schedule, she noticed Phineas talking with a man she thought she recognized from the settlement during the last rendezvous. They looked surprised, startled really, when she rode by. It gave her an eerie sensation.

  By the time she had Black Knight in his stall, her concern vanished as had the men. She spent the afternoon in the library with quill pen on fine-quality paper, drafting a letter to Stephen F. Austin. Using her journal as a reference, and memory to replace her first Texas journal, she itemized the events that needed attention from officials of the law. As she wrote about murder, shooting, knifing, kidnapping, farmers burned out and run off their lands by marauding Indians, she included theft and embezzlement, although she didn’t go into details about the overseer.

  Why am I still here? Do I not have the sense of a goose to leave this merciless place?

  While imploring Austin to send a company of volunteers to the settlement, she added: Although I am aware resources for lawmen are limited, they should “range” over more of Texas to assist land owners rather than concentrating their activities in the area surrounding Austin’s Colony.

  After resting her hand, she picked up the pen again and copied the letter to send to Jake. In his envelope, she included a note: Crops are flourishing at River Bend. I may be moving soon to Jefferson City, Missouri, where I can raise my son in more civilized surroundings.

  The next day, she woke to a gorgeous sunrise and a sense of anticipation. After breakfast, she and Johnathan took the buggy into the settlement to see Burcham. They found him sitting on the porch of the hotel. He greeted them in a whisper and placed a finger to his lips. Johnathan listened with him while Belle looped the horse’s reins around a rail.

  They heard a soft, “chi-ca-go, chi-ca-go,” and then a louder call.

  “See the mockingbird on that tree limb?” Burcham pointed, and Johnathan nodded. “He’s repeating the sounds from a covey of quail. Can’t see them from here, but they’re behind that brush over there.”

  Crows flew over, and the mockingbird mimicked their caws, before Burcham opened the hotel door and ushered his guests inside. Once seated, Belle handed him the letter addressed to Empresario Stephen F. Austin.

  “This looks mighty important.”

  “It is, and I have no idea how to address it to him. Perhaps, you can assist me in getting it to him the next time the ferry docks and heads south.”

  “I’d be pleased to do that.” Burcham took the second letter Belle handed him. “Trader Jake,” he said. “You have a fine hand, Belle.”

  “My mother taught me. Again, I don’t know how to get this letter out.”

  “It goes by ferry downriver to the gulf. Several ships carry mail and drop it off when they go ashore or hand it off to other ships. Trader Jake left me his route. The captain said he checks for mail at every port.” Burcham left the room for a moment and came back with smudged papers in his hand. “Here’s a letter from my sweet wife. She sent it from Wales to let me know she made the trip without difficulty.”

  “That is good news,” Belle said. “And another thing, tell me the schedule for the ferry that takes passengers to a larger boat, one that can take me to Missouri.”

  “Missouri? Taking a trip, are you now?”

  “No. I’m giving serious consideration to moving there.”

  Burcham’s shocked look didn’t surprise her, but her own words did. Saying it out loud makes it real. Am I ready to leave Texas?

  When Burcham recovered his normal expression, he excused himself and brought back a small, green trunk. “Trader Jake left orders for me to present this to you.”

  “What is it?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  “You’ve seen me since he left. I don’t mean to be indelicate, but why did you wait until today?”

  “Following the captain’s orders.” He refused to offer her any further explanation. “I’ll carry it to the buggy for you before I ride to the ferry crossing.”

  Once outside, they heard two gunshots. A man, dressed like a dandy, stumbled from the saloon and fell into the dusty street. The doctor ran out behind him, rolled him over, and said, “He’s dead.”

  “That’ll teach him to cheat,” the bartender said from the doorway and walked back in as if nothing had happened.

  “Loss of life in Texas happens on a regular basis,” Belle said, “and no one stops it.” She gave Johnathan a tight hug before lifting him into the buggy. After thanking Burcham, she and her son rode back to River Bend, him chattering like a little bird all the way.

  Once in her quarters, she examined the small trunk, its ornate carving of a green dragon silhouetted against the background, all of it in the color of jade. While walking away to get a letter opener from the secretary, a chill ran up her backbone. She turned to see the emerald eyes of the dragon. They seemed to follow her.

  Returning, she ignored its eyes and pried open the trunk, a strong smell of tea wafting up to her and filling the room. It’s not a trunk. It’s a tea chest like I read about in Stephen’s books.

  The chest was filled to the top with two packages wrapped in a fine-grade of unbleached muslin, soft enough to make a chemise from. One of the packages contained yards of silk fabrics in designs of exotic birds, butterflies, and flowers in bold colors, more dazzling than she’d ever seen. Her breath caught in her throat when she opened the remaining package to find an entire bolt of deep-green velvet, the luxurious fabric shining like an emerald jewel.

  Surprised, amazed, and wondering why Jake had chosen gifts like these for her, Belle reached for the lid to the tea chest. A folded paper caught her eye.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  My dearest Belle,

  Please accept this gift from a rude and insufferable man who prays you will stay in Texas until his return. When I next open the door of River Bend, I trust you will greet me, wearing a dress of green velvet.

  Sincerely,

  Jacob Owens

  Belle reread his letter many times over the next few months. Denying that his request had anything to do with her decision, she stayed at the plantation in hopes of hearing from Stephen Austin. Once winter blustered in with uncommon bitterness and never abated, travel was impossible. Catherine and Amelia failed to come over for a visit which left Belle wondering if they were snowed in or stayed up north. By the time spring rains melted the ice and snow, the annual rendezvous and Trader Jake’s return loomed.

  Sewing, quilting, cooking, reading, and making up stories with Johnathan kept her busy most of the time. Small disturbances continued to convince her that Phineas planned for her to pack up and leave like the Campbells and Reynolds had, but she made note of them in her journal and refused to budge. However, she did keep a pistol with her at all times.

  It rained for ten days straight which prevented planting of their early crops. Dreary days dampened everyone’s mood. Johnathan was the exception and begged to play outside.

  “Not in the rain,” Belle said. “And not in the mud.”

  “Please, Mama. I’ll be good.”

  “You are good, sweet child. Stay on the front porch, toward the back. It’s dry there.”

  He ran to her and hugged her legs. After filling his arms with toy wagons, he rushed toward the front door.


  “Play here by the window where I can see you, son.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  When the massive door opened for him, Johnathan went outside to play and waved at his mother through the glass. Old Bailey shut the door.

  Every time Belle looked out the window, her son was on his knees, playing wagon train with his covered wagons. Daniel, before he left, had carved horses and made a buckboard for him.

  Belle continued to check on her son while embroidering wild roses on a dresser scarf until his screams pierced the air.

  “Mama! Mama!”

  She looked up to see her son in the clutches of a mounted Indian. A terrified Johnathan screamed and struggled as the big brave crushed him to his ribs. Seizing the pistol from her sewing box, Belle raced outside.

  Angry Wolf taunted her, his laugh as cruel as he was ugly. He grunted the words, “You leave Tejas now.”

  From the porch, Belle took aim and prayed aloud. “Dear God, forgive me if I miss the kidnapper and shoot my son.”

  No mother should have to decide such a fate.

  When she saw Angry Wolf press his knees against his horse’s belly, she had seconds to fire before he turned and rode away. She would never see her son again.

  “Johnathan, stop screaming!” Her words had no effect. She yelled louder.

  “Sky Prince!”

  The boy’s screams changed to whimpering.

  “Code word—Froggy!”

  Johnathan jerked hard to the right, surprising Angry Wolf. Belle squeezed the trigger. The ugly brave stopped laughing when blood spurted from his chest. He released his grip, dropping the child who landed on the ground where the excited horse stamped.

  “Alligator!”

  Her son responded to her voice again as she’d hoped, rolling away from the dangerous hooves of the frightened horse. It turned and ran with a teetering Angry Wolf until he fell off, landing in a silent heap, never to laugh again.

  Belle dashed down the steps to wrap her arms around her son, tears streaming down her face. He was muddy but unharmed. “I’m sorry, son. We should have left Texas before this happened.”