by Vella Munn
"What do I have to know?" she prompted once Gaitor had sat down. She refused to look around; Panther was the tastanagee. He was welcome everywhere. And he had no need of her.
"He was there."
He. Master Croon. Feeling sick, she fought off the impulse to tell Gaitor he was lying. "What was he doing? You didn't talk to him, did you?"
"Talk?" Gaitor spat the word. "He'd see us dead afore he spoke with a Seminole. Or one he considers a slave."
"Did he see you?"
"Yes."
"Yes?" she repeated. Maybe if she went on talking, facing the fear that came with the simple word would be easier. "Please tell me. Everything."
He did, his eyes never leaving hers. They'd been far enough away from Reddin Croon that Gaitor couldn't say what his military rank was, but there was no doubt that he was in uniform.
"I thought he might leave," she whispered half to herself. "I prayed he had. When Panther told me he was no longer at his plantation, I tried to make myself believe he'd left Florida."
"He's got hisself a fine horse. The way he stared at us, it's plain as day he's feelin' sure o' hisself."
"He recognized you? My god—"
"Me and Panther. That ain't all, Calida."
She wanted to get up and walk away, run, but she didn't have anywhere to go.
"On the way back, we come across a brave from another clan. Hawk Flying had been at Fort Dade, a prisoner. They let him go 'cause they wants him to spread the news."
What news? she wanted to demand but forced herself to wait Gaitor out. The explanation, which she guessed the rest of the village already knew, was that the army leaders were sending word through Hawk Flying and others that they wanted to meet with the leaders of the various Seminole clans. As proof of their desire for a successful meeting, they'd promised not to draw arms against the Seminoles until after the gathering.
Master Croon had told her something about Fort Dade, but she hadn't paid that much attention because it hadn't been part of her existence back then. Now... "What does Panther say? He can't go there. He can't! If Ma—if Croon is there, he'll kill him. I know he will."
Gaitor stared at her with new intensity. Ignoring him, she scrambled to her feet. Panther was some distance away talking with several older men. Not waiting for Gaitor, she hurried to Panther's side. Only then did she notice that Winter Rain was already there, glaring at her. Not wanting anyone except Panther to hear what she had to say, she had no choice but to stand there, silent and self-conscious, while the others studied her for a long minute before dismissing her. Finally, Panther separated himself from them and strode toward her. Winter Rain started to join him, but he waved her off.
"I'm sorry," Calida blurted. "I didn't mean to interrupt but—Gaitor just told me about Fort Dade. You're not going there, are you? It's a trap; it's got to be a trap."
"You are a tastanagee? You know how the enemy thinks?"
Was he deliberately trying to demean her? "He'll be there. Whatever he tries to do, the others won't stop him. Your life—He hates you. You know he does."
"Many Seminoles and whites hate each other."
How could he be so calm? "What do they want?" she asked. "Do they think every Seminole is going to surrender?"
"It is their wish. With us gone, they will claim Piahokee as their own."
He looked tired today. She would have noticed that earlier if she hadn't been so relieved to see him. He must have been on the move the whole time, but she didn't think that was what had put the shadows under his eyes. What happened to his clan, to the entire Seminole tribe, was a responsibility he'd borne since becoming a man. He was also responsible for her safety now. "I don't trust them, any of them. I know what Reddin Croon is like. He's army. That's all he's ever really cared about. What if they're all like him?"
"What would you have me do?" Panther asked.
"Stay here. Stay safe."
"Safe? There is no place the army cannot find if they look long enough."
It seemed impossible that any outsider would ever find the village, but she'd be a fool if she didn't admit that some Seminoles might turn in their own people in exchange for promises of safety. It seemed so overwhelming. All she wanted out of life was to learn how to live in harmony with Piahokee and to bring her mother here. Maybe one other thing. Children. And the right man to be a father to those children.
"Please don't go. If Croon's there, he'll kill you."
"To try and to succeed are not always the same."
"Panther, no! You said you saw at least two hundred troops. There'll be even more at Fort Dade. What if it's a trap? What if they're planning to kill all the Seminole leaders?"
He already knew that was a possibility. He'd discussed it with Gaitor on the way back, tried to imagine himself tied and helpless again, or worse. But he couldn't remain behind if the other chiefs wanted peace talks. Didn't Calida understand that?
Looking down at her, he found his answer. Her eyes, her too-soft mouth spoke of fear for him. Fear? His people knew him to be strong. Expected it of him. None had ever asked if he was afraid of war. Of dying.
Calida did.
Calida, who Gaitor loved.
Calida, whose presence might jeopardize the clan's safety if Croon learned she was here.
"I will tell you everything Hawk Flying said." He spoke around swirling emotions. "I thought about remaining silent, but I believe it is something you must know."
"Know what?"
"Seminoles raided Reddin Croon's planation. They freed Gaitor and me. They killed his wife and carriage driver. He has gone to war against them to avenge those deaths."
"That's a lie! That's not—"
"I know that. So do you," he said, his voice calm in contrast to hers. "But there are more ears to listen to him."
"The ears of other army officers. That's what you're saying, isn't it?"
"Not just the army. Hawk Flying said Croon insists he has the ear of the President."
Her hand spread over her throat; she took a long, dragging breath and briefly closed her eyes. "I forgot."
"What did you forget?"
"He knows President Jackson. They used to fight together. And he considers Major General Jesup a friend."
From what he understood, Jesup would be at Fort Dade. He couldn't imagine the President would lend his weight to this meeting, but if Reddin Croon was able to convince him to come—
President Jackson, Old Mad Jackson as the Seminoles called him, was Enemy. Several years ago he had signed a piece of paper that said all Indians in the eastern part of the country were to be removed from their land and forced to live in places called Kansas and Oklahoma. The Shawnees, Kickapoos, and Peorias were already in Kansas. Choctaws, Cherokees, and Chickasaws had been sent to Oklahoma. Only a few Choctawa, a handful of Creeks, and the Seminoles hidden in Piahokee remained on their ancestors' land.
Croon would bring great honor to himself if he was seen as responsible for forcing the Seminoles to surrender. He would make sure that many troops were on hand to stop anyone from escaping Fort Dade. Croon was like a great alligator, dangerous and deadly.
"I am only one tastanagee. I cannot stop others from speaking to the army men."
She grabbed his arm, her grip so strong it hurt. "Why are they doing it?" she insisted. "Don't they want to be free?"
"It is hard to think of freedom when one is always running and hiding. When children go to sleep hungry. When newborns must be killed to keep them from crying."
Agony etched itself on her features. He wanted to ease away the emotion but couldn't. He wasn't used to talking to a woman this way. Seminole women concerned themselves with feeding, clothing, and caring for their children. They left fighting up to their men. But Calida understood, maybe even more than he did, about the danger that lay ahead for him, Osceola, and the others. She'd lessened her grip on him but hadn't let go. It wasn't a Seminole woman's way to touch or argue with a man she wasn't married to, but Calida wasn't Seminole. He didn't k
now her thoughts.
He was learning about her fears.
That and something that lay nearly hidden deep in her big, dark eyes.
"Reddin Croon, General Jesup, and President Jackson don't care anything about hungry children," she said. She sounded resigned, yet she continued to grip him. "All that matters to them is that they succeed. Whatever it takes, they'll do it."
"I know."
"Do you?" She glanced down at his wrist and frowned. He guessed she hadn't been aware that she'd grabbed him. He couldn't say the same, might never be unaware of her. "Panther, if you step inside Fort Dade, you might never leave it."
"It is not your concern."
"Not my concern? Panther, you're all—I care what happens to you. I care!"
* * *
Calida paced from her sleeping area to the jungle and then back again. It was dark, and Piahokee now belonged to creatures that hid from the sun. She should be settling down for the night, but she couldn't shut off her thoughts enough for that. In her mind's eye, she could still see the red marks she'd inflicted on Panther's wrist. Never in her life had she harmed another human being, and yet she'd done that to the man who'd carried her out of Piahokee when she was dying. She should fall to her knees before him and thank him for what he'd done.
But Reddin Croon had once forced her to her knees, and she couldn't do that again.
Although there was nothing to see, she continued to stare at the wilderness while her thoughts tumbled inside her. She had a decision to make, realities to face, but they kept slipping behind images of Panther.
Dreams of freedom, no matter how short-lived, had kept her going after she fled the plantation. Once her fever began to subside and she realized where she was, a sense of peace unlike anything she'd believed possible had settled over her. She was no longer a slave. That should be all that mattered. She should want to sing with joy, revel in the realization that she could hold her head high, but she'd never done that before in her life. How—
Learning the meaning of freedom had only a little to do with what she felt tonight. She was afraid, not just that Croon would get his hands on her again, but that Panther would sacrifice his life at Fort Dade.
Panther. Not anyone else.
What was she thinking? Everyone, even Osceola, was in danger.
But tonight only Panther mattered.
Groaning, she pressed her hands against the sides of her head. She'd only loved one person in her life, her mother, had never wanted to love another.
What was she thinking? She didn't love Panther! The man was a savage. He lived to fight and kill if necessary while all she'd ever wanted was peace.
Forcing Panther, briefly, from her mind, she made herself concentrate on what she'd learned about Croon. He had rejoined the army. Without his wife to keep him at the plantation, she shouldn't be surprised that he'd returned to his previous way of life. Croon had told everyone that the Seminoles had killed his wife. Certainly his wealthy, powerful, stern father-in-law didn't know the truth. Except for her, no one did.
Her.
Croon wasn't done with her.
The man hadn't put on a uniform because he wanted to avenge his wife's death. He was determined to find her, and this was how he was going to do it. He would find her. Someone, maybe a captured Seminole or runaway, maybe even Panther if they tortured him enough, would give her away.
No. Panther would die before he betrayed those he was responsible for.
Still, his life was in jeopardy because of her. He and the men, women, and children who'd given her shelter.
She couldn't stay here. If she did, eventually Croon would find her. Exact a horrible revenge on her—and maybe on Panther as well.
Her head throbbed, and she couldn't think straight. When she first fled the plantation, Piahokee had felt as if it was closing in on her. It felt like that again, not because she was still afraid of what dwelled in Piahokee's depths but because Reddin Croon might be coming closer. Determined to kill her. Or worse.
Chapter 9
"You cain't be serious."
"I am, Gaitor. I have no choice."
"You's never gonna make it."
Didn't he think she'd already thought about the dangers? "I survived getting here. Please. You must know how to reach the Freedom Trail. Just tell me how to get to it."
Gaitor folded his massive arms across his dark chest. He looked so imposing, but she forced herself not to shrink from his scrutiny. She'd spent the whole night agonizing over her decision and was now exhausted but still determined. "I'm afraid for my mother," she admitted. "I have to get her away from there. If I don't... What if he's already done something to her? The things—" She couldn't go on thinking like this. If she did, she would make herself sick. "I keep telling myself he's with the army because he knows he can't find me on his own. But how did he come to that conclusion? If he tried to force—"
"Stop it, Calida."
She was grateful for the order. Looking around, she saw that the villagers were already up and moving about. There was a tension in the air that she had no doubt came from concerns about the upcoming meeting at Fort Dade. She'd tried to talk Panther out of going, begged him, but he wouldn't listen to her. All she could do was try to help her mother, to get them both as far as possible from Croon's vengeance. She'd carry Pilar the entire way if that's what it took.
"Gaitor, you know what it's like to be a piece of property."
"Yes."
"Aren't you afraid? Don't you want to get as far from that as you can?"
"My place is here."
Maybe it was. Despite herself, she envied him. "Mine isn't. It's with my mother. If you'd had family, you—"
"I did. A wife. A baby."
He tried to keep his voice emotionless, but she heard the truth behind those simple words. Impulsively she tried to hug him, but there was so much to him that she couldn't get her arms around his waist. He shuddered, and she stepped back thinking he didn't want to lose his composure around her. "Where are they?"
"I don' know. I was sold. They wasn't."
She'd known that Gaitor had been more dead than alive when he staggered into the Egret village, but unlike her, his wounds hadn't been inflicted by the unforgiving wilderness. His master had beaten him within an inch of his life, leaving him with nothing except the desperate determination to escape. Now she knew that that wasn't the whole story. He'd also been separated from his family.
If only there was something she could do, some way of reuniting him with his wife and child. But she couldn't. "Then you know what it's like for me. How I can't stop thinking about my mother. Worrying that I might have jeopardized her life. Wanting to take care of her."
"Yes. I knows."
She didn't tell him about her fear that her presence jeopardized the tribe's safety, most of all Panther's. He understood how she felt about her mother, and that was enough. When she again asked him to tell her how to find the Freedom Trail, he dropped to his knees and drew a map on the ground. With a start, she realized that the town he'd indicated was St. Augustine. There were people there, white people, willing to take her north. All she had to do was get herself and her mother to St. Augustine. Somehow.
"I'll takes you."
"You what?"
"Not now but later. After Fort Dade."
After Fort Dade was too late. She'd overheard enough to realize it might take weeks to reach the far-flung Seminole villages and that the leaders would have to meet and discuss and decide many things before they were willing to stand face-to-face with the army.
"You hears me, Calida. Don' you think to go by yurself. You'll never make it."
* * *
Gaitor was wrong. She'd managed to find the Egret village, hadn't she? As long as she followed the river, she could make her way back to Croon's plantation. She'd make mashed corn patties to eat along the way. She wouldn't have to rely on a few nuts and berries, not now that she knew which tubers and roots were eatable. Not only that, Gaitor had given her a
knife, and a Seminole woman had presented her with a piece of leather and shown her how to make moccasins.
When she asked, Winter Rain agreed to give her a pig bladder for holding water. Winter Rain had also given her a stout oak stick to use to chase off any alligators that came too close. Calida had studied Winter Rain to see if she'd been joking. She hadn't been. Then Winter Rain had asked if Calida planned on leaving before nightfall. No, she wanted to wait until early the next morning so she could cover as much ground as possible before it got dark. Winter Rain had shrugged. When Calida begged Winter Rain to say nothing of her plans to either Panther or Gaitor, the younger woman had readily agreed.
As the afternoon inched along, Calida became aware of increased activity. Afraid that Panther was planning on leaving again, she found a spot to sit in sight of his chickee. Unfortunately, there were so many warriors about that for a long time she didn't catch so much as a glimpse of him. Several of the men were strangers engaged in serious conversation with the men of the Egret clan, Gaitor and other Negroes included. Finally, Panther emerged accompanied by a short, fat, proud-looking Seminole. Panther bent over the other man, listening carefully to what he was saying.
"Micanopy," she heard someone mutter. The name sounded familiar, but it was a minute before she remembered she'd heard Croon talk about him. Micanopy, Croon had said, had fired the shot that signaled the war between the United States and the Seminoles. Because she understood very little of what those around her were saying about Micanopy and Panther, she searched her memory. The incident had taken place near Fort King. A large number of infantrymen had been attacked by Seminoles who'd lain in wait for them, and no soldier had survived what Croon called the Dade Massacre, named after the major who'd been leading the troops.
Looking at Micanopy, she tried to imagine the man ordering the killing of so many others. He reminded her of a lazy, easygoing old dog content to sleep away his remaining days. Still, something must have burned inside him, must still burn to bring him here to Panther.