by Vella Munn
"I was there, Winter Rain. You wasn't. I knows what happened."
Winter Rain wasn't ready to agree with him. He understood that in the way she held her body, the firm tilt to her chin. "I have to talk to him," she said. "My father says he must know what is happening."
Gaitor allowed his attention to be drawn back to Panther and Calida. They continued to stand side by side. Although only Panther was speaking, Calida was obviously part of everything being said. They'd been alone together for two, maybe three nights. In that time—
* * *
From the way Panther had kept glancing over at where Gaitor stood, Calida guessed he was waiting for his friend to join the discussion about what the Egret clan was going to do, but Gaitor had remained where he was, just as Winter Rain had done. Only now, hours after they'd returned to the village were Gaitor and Winter Rain approaching.
"I missed you, my friend," Panther said by way of greeting.
"And I missed you." Gaitor nodded gravely, then stepped back in a gesture designed to leave Winter Rain standing in front of Panther. Calida felt worn out, not just physically but emotionally as well. She deeply regretted having told Panther what she had, and yet maybe she wouldn't have survived if she'd tried to keep the pain wrapped inside her. He'd held her through the night and made it possible for her to finally fall asleep. In the morning, he'd talked about how snails, frogs, turtles, and even alligators dug deep into drying mud during a drought in order to survive. He'd said nothing about unborn babies. She should be grateful and yet—
"I bring a message from my father," Winter Rain said after a prompting from Gaitor.
A moment ago Calida had wanted to leave the others so she could clean up after the long walk, so, away from Panther, she could clear her thoughts. However, before Winter Rain had said more than a half dozen words, that no longer mattered. Three clans had already agreed to the army's new terms. They'd either turned over their Negroes or were making plans to take them to one of the forts. Once that was done, they would begin the long journey to Oklahoma and peace—or at least what they hoped would be peace. Other clans were expected to do the same.
"My father says he will never again allow chains around his wrists," Winter Rain finished. "He would rather be dead. I—maybe I should run with him."
"With him? Why?" Panther asked.
"Because—" Winter Rain's eyes were too large. "Because maybe the army men will look at me and say that I am Negro, not Seminole."
Panther muttered something Calida couldn't hear. He studied not Winter Rain but Gaitor. She needed no explanation to understand the silent message taking place between the two men.
Panther would never turn Gaitor or the other clan Negroes over to the army. The fact that he'd risked his life by coming after her was proof of that. Reddin Croon had always reacted to any sign of rebellion with swift punishment; Reddin Croon and the army were the same.
"Does ya know what ya's doin'?" Gaitor insisted. "This ain't just 'tween you en me. We's talkin' bout the whole clan."
"I know."
"Does ya?"
"Yes." Panther sounded weary and determined at the same time.
"I choose freedom. And I promise freedom for all who walk in my footsteps."
Freedom. That, she tried to remind herself, was why she'd come here with Panther. She couldn't help her mother, couldn't reach her without putting both their lives in jeopardy. But was that the only reason? Her mother had given her life. Shouldn't she be willing to surrender that life if it meant giving her mother freedom?
* * *
Despite everything Calida had to do, the rest of the day passed slowly. Because Panther was concerned that the army might find this spot, in the morning the clan would be moving even further into Piahokee. As it grew dark, Panther gathered everyone around him and relayed what Winter Rain had told him. Those who wanted to surrender were free to do so. He would even accompany them to within sight of Fort Dade to make sure they got there safely. Those who decided to remain with him needed to prepare themselves for what might be unending flight. No one had said they wanted to go to Fort Dade. Men, women, children, even the clan's oldest members had pledged their allegiance to Panther.
It was, Calida knew, because they believed in him and trusted him to keep them out of the army's hands.
She wished it was that simple for her.
Restless, wishing there was someone she could talk to, she wandered through the hodgepodge of brush shelters that had been thrown up over the last few days and would be abandoned tomorrow. There were few conversations tonight. Those who spoke did so in soft whispers. Even the babies seemed to understand that crying would further burden people who had enough to think about.
Panther and Gaitor as well as some of the other able-bodied men were nowhere in sight. Because Panther hadn't told her what he was going to do, she could only guess that they were studying their surroundings, maybe checking to see if tomorrow's journey would truly be safe.
Winter Rain sat near a large, flat rock on which lay a number of roots and tubers. She was pounding them with a grinding stone. Watching her, Calida recalled the girl's fear that the army would see only her Negro blood. Winter Rain had never felt the bite of a slave chain. She was slender and healthy with a gentle way of carrying herself that would catch a man's eye. Despite her cooking skills, she wouldn't spend much of her time in her master's kitchen.
Sick at the thought of what Winter Rain might be forced to endure at her master's hands, Calida stepped closer. Still, when Winter Rain acknowledged her presence, she couldn't bring herself to speak about what was on her mind. Instead, without waiting for an invitation, she sat down near the girl. "What is your father going to do?" she asked. "If Osceola is too sick to fight—"
"My father would rather die than surrender."
Like Panther. "Will he come here? Join the Egret clan?"
"I do not know. Osceola gave him land to farm when he escaped his master. He owes a great deal to him."
But he'd married a woman from the Egret clan and had a daughter by her. Much as Calida wanted Winter Rain to tell her more about what had happened after her mother's death, she didn't feel she knew the younger woman well enough. She watched her in silence for a few minutes, impressed by Winter Rain's economy of movement.
"My father wants me to join him," Winter Rain said. "He has always wanted me by his side."
"Are you going to?"
Still looking down, she shrugged. Silence settled over them again, which gave Calida time to think, to remember. Winter Rain's eyes hadn't once left Panther while she told him about what she'd learned from her father. She'd noticed the girl watching Panther before, sensed a disquiet, an eagerness in her manner whenever she was around him. Now, with no sense of shock, she realized Winter Rain loved Panther.
"My place is here," Winter Rain whispered. "I belong with my mother's clan. It is not for me to say what my father should do."
"If Panther wasn't the tastanagee, would you feel the same way?"
Her question brought Winter Rain's head up. She seemed torn between anger and determination, reminding Calida of a doe risking her own life to protect her fawn. Only, Panther was no fawn.
"Everyone says that Osceola is the great Seminole leader, but that is only because he has long spoken to the army men, because he has always raised his voice to say what is on his mind. Is he a skilled hunter? No. Does he have the courage to take his clan where it has never gone before? No. Those things are what Panther does."
And you love him for that.
Unable to think of anything that might keep the conversation going, Calida tried to concentrate on the steady rhythm of Winter Rains work. Yes, she was little more than a child, but she had skills she might never have, and she belonged heart and soul with the Egret clan. She was worthy of Panther; she hadn't ended two innocent, helpless lives.
* * *
The air reeked of Indians. No matter where Reddin Croon looked, he could see the half-naked, stinking savages. Gene
ral Jesup, lucky for him, was inside Fort Mellon's excuse for officers quarters. It might be hot and sticky in there, but at least the general didn't have to look at Seminoles. Didn't have to smell them.
Thoughts of how much he wanted to run a bayonet through every one of the three hundred Seminoles who'd come here filled Reddin's mind as he made his way through the seated and standing groups. Osceola was camped near the officers' cabin along with other such noteworthy leaders as Arpeika, Coa Hadjo, Emathla, Tuskinia, and Coacoochee. General Jesup was so damn proud of what had been accomplished; it didn't matter to him that Panther and his clan continued to defy the army's orders to surrender.
General Jesup was a fool.
Only by clenching his teeth until his jaw ached was he able to squelch his impulse to kick at the scrawny brave staring up at him from where he'd plopped himself in the all but boiling mud. These so-called human beings were worse than animals. At least the creatures who made their home in the god-awful Everglades knew enough to run from armed men. The Seminoles, however—hell, they acted like the army was here to wait on them. They didn't know the meaning of the word defeated. It probably never entered their simple minds that the soldiers could wipe them out in a matter of minutes.
Muttering under his breath, Reddin carefully made his way around the mass of humanity until he reached the separate stockade that held the slaves that hadn't already been reclaimed by their masters. It made him laugh; it really did. The niggers had honestly thought they'd be safe living with the Seminoles. Well, they'd found out different, hadn't they?
All except for Calida.
He'd done it before more times than he cared to admit, but once again, he peered in through the poles that made up the stockade looking for some sign of her. She would stand out. Damn it, he knew that, so why was he—
The line of a long neck distracted him. True, the nigger gal was on the scrawny side, but she was better than nothing, a damn sight better than a Seminole whore. Three well-armed soldiers guarded the dejected group of slaves. It wouldn't take more than a quick flaunting of his rank to get the soldiers to turn their backs. He wouldn't take her out in the open because he didn't need any waggling tongues. Still, it had been too damn long since he'd mounted a woman. Since he'd had Calida.
The taste of her name inside him distracted him from the skinny black woman. It had been her at his plantation. Damn it, he had no doubt that it was she who'd gotten his new hound in such a state when he'd given it one of her dresses. She'd escaped by making her way through the quicksand while the stupid dog had just about gotten himself killed. Fortunately he'd managed to get the mongrel out in time, but the swamp had swallowed Calida's scent.
Maybe it had swallowed her.
The unwanted thought that Calida might really be dead this time rammed its way into him. He hated being consumed by her. Damn it, she was nothing but a slave. His slave. He could have a hundred just like her.
He didn't want a hundred; he wanted her. He owned her.
Grumbling to himself, he banged his fist on the stockade door and waited impatiently for the guard to open it. He recognized the man but for the life of him couldn't remember his name, not that it mattered. "I've got me an itch." He pointed at the female slave. "I want her to scratch it."
"I don't know, Lieutenant. Her master might show anytime."
"You let me worry about that, understand! This isn't gonna take long. Just bring her over here."
The man still looked uncertain. "Look," Reddin compromised. "What if you get your turn at her once I'm done?"
"You think so?"
"Why not? You keep an eye out for me so I can have a little privacy. I'll do the same for you."
That did the trick. Grinning, the soldier plunged into the midst of the dark bodies. He emerged less than a minute later holding onto the woman's arm. Reddin didn't bother looking at her face. By the way she was breathing, quick and uneven, he figured she knew what was coming.
As a lieutenant he'd been issued a tent to stay in. The damn thing trapped the unbearable heat and humidity, but even if it didn't, he wouldn't use it for what he had in mind because Calida's mother was in there, and there wasn't enough room. At the soldier's suggestion, he dragged the silent woman to the far corner of the stockade. The soldier trailed along behind him, talking nonstop.
"Do you really think they're all going to go to Oklahoma?" he asked. "I mean, after all this time we've spent chasing after them, it seems so simple. I just don't trust the Seminoles, don't trust them at all."
"If you don't, you're smarter than just about every other white man here."
"You mean it? You think they're going to pull something?"
It depended on what was meant by pull. Troops had more or less stumbled onto where Panther's clan had been staying, but the Seminoles had already left. He'd offered his dog to try to sniff out the Indians, but that hadn't been successful. What that meant was that the Egret clan was savvy enough to know how to hide their tracks. Panther didn't want to have anything to do with this damnable treaty and right now there wasn't a damn thing the army could do about that. He didn't trust the rest of the Seminoles not to start thinking like Panther.
If they did, Fort Mellon could clear out in a matter of minutes. There wouldn't be anything left except that miserable bunch of niggers, this now-whimpering woman being one of them.
Niggers and Calida's mother.
Smiling, he shoved the slave against the stockade wall and dropped his pants. The soldier spun around so he couldn't see but didn't step out of earshot. If Calida was alive, sooner or later she'd learn where her mother was. She'd come after Pilar once before; that's why she'd been at the plantation.
If she was alive, she'd be back.
And then—
Chapter 14
Micanopy sat across from Panther, a look of great patience on his fat face. With him and Gaitor were Jumper, Cloud, and Alligator, all respected Seminole chiefs. Panther kept his attention on Micanopy, who, although more than a head shorter than him, outweighed him. Micanopy was slow moving and slow talking, but the great Cowcatcher of the Alachua band had been one of Micanopy's ancestors, and Micanopy wore his bloodline proudly. Someday, Panther guessed, Jumper, who had married one of Micanopy's sisters, would push Micanopy aside, but that day hadn't yet arrived.
"The numbers grow daily," Micanopy was saying. "Already the fort is full, and yet still more Seminoles come."
"Is that what the general is waiting for?" Panther asked, careful to keep his question casual. "For the walls to burst?"
Micanopy snorted and patted his belly. Then his expression turned serious. "No. They wait for you."
"Are those the general's words?"
"I speak not for the general," Micanopy insisted. "My words are my own. I walk my own way."
Beside him, Gaitor hissed under his breath. "What is your reason for telling me this?" Panther asked. "I have made my decision. You know that. I will not step inside the white man's fort. I do not trust him. I do not believe what he says."
"You anger him."
"It is a little anger," he countered. "I am only one tastanagee. General Jesup has much more to concern himself with."
"Not the general."
Panther didn't have to look at Gaitor to know they were thinking the same thing. Reddin Croon had been wearing the uniform of an army man for several months and was at Fort Mellon. "Anger is not a good thing," he said slowly. "Sometimes it robs a man of his senses and he becomes foolish."
"And sometimes it turns him into a sharp-toothed alligator."
That was true; he would be wise to never forget that. Although Panther needed to understand as much as possible about what was happening at the fort, even more important was hearing everything the other chiefs could tell him about Calida's former master. Was Croon acting under General Jesup's orders he wanted to know. Or was he on his own, free to come and go as he wished? Jumper and Cloud provided the answers. Croon and the general sometimes argued, and although it angered the gener
al to have another question his decisions, he didn't seem to know how to silence Croon.
"I do not know what he is doing there," Cloud said. "He has taken a number of army men for himself. It is said that he pays them well, that they no longer listen to their commanding officers. But they have nothing to do. They simply wait."
"And Croon? Does he wait too?"
"He has much to fill his time. He takes slave women to his bed; no one stops him."
"That is all?"
Cloud shrugged. "We do not concern ourselves with a lieutenant. Osceola is still sick. We are all tired. We want peace and a new place to live."
Feeling old, Panther looked around. Because he'd wanted privacy for this conversation, he'd asked Gaitor and the chiefs to join him on a small hammock out of sight of where his clan was now staying. He believed the spot he'd chosen for his people was safe, but it hadn't rained in weeks. Already the surrounding swamps were drying up, fish were dying, and the ground was too parched for planting. The sun had always burned this land; he knew that. But this year the clan wasn't ready. They would have to move soon if they were to have enough food. He hated telling the children and old people they couldn't stay here and rest, but he would as soon as he knew what Micanopy and the others had come to him about.
Micanopy leaned forward. He was no longer smiling. "General Jesup grows more angry with each day. He is tired of waiting for Osceola to say when we will leave Florida."
"Osceola is too sick to speak?" Panther didn't believe that. He suspected Osceola was deliberately testing the army's patience.
"He is still chief. But my turn will come. Soon."
Hearing Micanopy say that worried him. Although Micanopy strutted like a snowy egret in full plumage, he was no leader. "What would you do differently?" he asked. "To decide to leave the land of one's ancestors is not an easy thing. We do not know if our spirits can follow us to another place. The army wants us to turn our backs on people who have become like us."
"The Negroes are runaways," Jumper insisted. "We gave them shelter, but we will not risk our lives for them."