by Vella Munn
He wished he felt the same.
"I makes you a promise, Panther," Gaitor said. "Long as we can, we'll stay here with you."
We. Calida was part of that. When Gaitor decided that his small group of followers had to flee, she'd leave with them. She had to know she had no choice. But he was a war chief.
* * *
"You mean it?" Reddin asked.
Looking disgusted with the question, General Jesup repeated his decision. The weeks since the capture of two clans had been ones of both triumph because they now had King Philip's son Coacoochee as well as the old man and keen disappointment because there'd been no wholesale surrender. Obviously, however, the loss of so many had finally gotten through to the savages. A number of chiefs had just sent word that they were willing to come in for a parley. What had elicited Reddin's outburst was that the general had just said he had no intention of letting any of the savages walk out of Fort Peyton.
"We've been waving a flag of truce for too long and look what it's gotten us—nothing," General Jesup continued. "Every time Osceola decides he wants something from us, we put down our weapons and act like lapdogs. Well, the newspapers may have folks thinking he's some kind of great chief, but I'm tired of him believing he's in control. We've been made fools for the last time. This damnable war is ending, now."
The other officers muttered approval. They might say something different behind Jesup's back, but in public they supported their general's decision, glad that he was the one who would have to answer to the President and politicians. Reddin kept his own counsel. What happened to the rest of the savages didn't matter; the only one he cared about was Panther—Panther, who had cost him more money than he would think about today. Panther, damn it, had better be among those who accompanied Osceola. He'd give anything, anything to see the look on Panther's face when he realized he was trapped.
"How are you going to do it?" someone asked. "You're not going to shoot—"
"Not if there's any other way of handling things, I'm not," Jesup said. "There's one thing I'm going to say now, and I want everyone listening to me. Whatever happens, Osceola will come out of it alive. I'm not going to have all those Indian lovers down my throat, understand?"
Fine, Reddin thought. Treat Osceola as if he was a goddamn king. Panther was another story. He deserved to have his head separated from his body.
But not before the savage had told him where to find Calida.
* * *
Osceola was sick but not beaten. Heartened by the large, glittering eyes and determined stare, Calida stood before the Seminole chief. Panther was a few feet away, his silence speaking to her, pleading with her to walk away from this meeting.
But she couldn't. Not yet at least.
"You have heard?" Osceola asked. "You understand that the army general has agreed to meet with us and that it will be a peaceful meeting, a time for all to talk about what they need and want?"
"Panther told me. I have to ask though. Do you really trust General Jesup?"
"I do not know this man. I have not sat down with him and looked into his heart, but once, years ago, a general placed me in chains." His mouth tightened. "Many whites said this was a terrible thing to do and he was forced to set me free. Later I killed him. The army will not make the same mistake twice."
Calida wasn't sure that was true, but she also knew the army and Seminoles couldn't continue as they were much longer. Both groups were tired, frustrated, eager to get on with their lives, even if that meant the Seminoles had to leave their homeland. She'd heard that Osceola had raged like a madman when he found himself in chains. Shamed, he had never forgiven Wiley Thompson and had been responsible for the Indian agent's death. Unfortunately, Osceola was no longer the same fighting man he'd once been. Panther had taken his place, at least in that respect.
"Has the time for the meeting been arranged?" she asked. Osceola hadn't said why he wanted to talk to her, but then he didn't need to. "Where will it take place?"
He told her that runners had brought word that a flag of truce had been erected over Fort Peyton. Most of the army's troops were at St. Augustine, far enough away that they didn't constitute a threat. "I have heard many things about what the army and the government want the Seminoles to do. It is time to hear those things from General Jesup himself."
"You know what they want," Panther insisted. "For all Negroes to be surrendered to them. They won't talk about what is to be done with us until then."
She should be horrified at the thought of being turned over to military men. Instead, Calida's thoughts fixed on something else Panther had said. Done with us. Were those the words of a beaten man? Looking at him, she knew that wasn't true. Still, could a single warrior go to war with the army?
It had to end! The Seminoles needed peace, a quiet place to live their lives and raise their children.
Their children. Why couldn't Panther put them first?
"I want you by my side when this meeting takes place," Osceola said.
Panther cursed. Calida simply waited.
"If I am presented with what the whites have written down, I want to know the truth."
"No," Panther insisted. "She isn't safe. You know that."
"Panther, please," Calida said.
Osceola's eyes flickered from one to the other then settled on her. "There is more. Sometimes the army men use words that are foreign to me, to all of us. You have spoken their language since childhood."
"So has Gaitor."
Already tense, Calida became even more so when Panther said that. According to Winter Rain, Gaitor was still here because he was torn between loyalty for Panther and the great clan and the need to go where he would be safe. Last night Winter Rain had told her that Gaitor had decided to stay until he'd learned the results of the parley. Now Panther was saying he wanted Gaitor to interpret. "Not Gaitor," she insisted. "He can't read."
"She is not a warrior," Osceola interrupted. "The army has no reason to hate her as they do Gaitor."
Not giving Panther time to speak, she quickly asked Osceola when he wanted her. He and the others would be leaving for Fort Peyton in the morning, he told her. "I will be there," she said.
"No!" Grabbing her arm, Panther pulled her around to him. "I should not have let you come here. You cannot. He—"
"I can't turn my back on my people, Panther. The Seminoles are my people, the Egret clan my family, you know that."
"You would risk your life? Our child's life?"
How dare he do this to her! Didn't he know how terrified she was of entering the fort, of maybe coming face-to-face with Reddin Croon? But Gaitor had stayed because he believed General Jesup's word that there would be no violence during the peace talks.
Peace.
How she hated war!
"Do you think I want to do this? But I don't want our child to be a child of war. Of hiding and running. It has to end. It has to!"
"End?"
"Yes. Please, Panther, tell me you understand."
His eyes darkened, reminding her of storm-filled clouds. "You carry life inside you, Calida, but you do not put that life before everything else. This I do not understand."
He didn't understand.
* * *
General Jesup wasn't here. From General Hernandez, Reddin had learned that Jesup was so nervous about the outcome of the so-called parley that he'd decided to wait in the wilderness around Fort Peyton along with the troops who'd been brought here to spring the trap. Hiding was a damn mistake on Jesup's part, the decision of a coward. The Seminoles and niggers still with them might be dull-witted, but they weren't stupid. If they didn't clap eyes on the head of the army, they would be suspicious, and rightly so.
Too nervous to eat, Reddin paced. From what scouts had told him, some seventy warriors as well as a handful of women and niggers were coming in with their leaders. They'd left their children behind.
To hell with the children.
Calida might—Calida might...
Wiping away t
he sweat that had beaded on his forehead, he ordered himself not to think about her, but it didn't work. As far as he knew, she was the only one in the whole stinking bunch who could read. Osceola would be a fool not to want her along. Panther, on the other hand—
His body went hot. According to John Philip, Calida was sleeping with Panther. Calida was his property, damn it! The savage would pay for what he'd done with his life, and nothing Jesup or Hernandez did or said would stop him.
The Seminoles were coming. News of their approach rippled through the fort. Reddin checked his pistol, yanked his stiff and dirty collar away from his neck too damn many times. His first impulse was to run to the gate to see if Panther and Calida were among them, but he forced himself to remain in the shadows because if they spotted him, they might not enter the trap.
The trap.
He had them! Finally.
With a nauseating show of ceremony, General Hernandez greeted Osceola, who was dressed in a colorful shirt, baggy pants, and ornately decorated moccasins with an equally colorful blanket thrown over one shoulder. Osceola immediately asked where General Jesup was. After a momentary hesitation, Hernandez explained that Jesup had the measles and didn't feel well enough to attend. However, Hernandez was authorized to speak for him. Hernandez was delighted to see Osceola and took that as a sign that the Seminoles were serious about finding a way to end the stalemate. Nodding at Coa Hadjo, who was another tastanagee, Hernandez asked why Micanopy, Jumper, and Cloud weren't with them. Straight-faced, Osceola said that those chiefs had the measles.
Tension knotted Reddin's belly. If the Seminoles smelled a trap—
They must not have, because at General Hernandez's suggestion the entire bunch filed inside and started toward the circle of logs set up in the middle of the fort. Osceola walked like an old man. Coa Hadjo looked disgustingly healthy. Reddin didn't care about Micanopy, Jumper, or Cloud. Where the hell was Panther?
Hernandez waited until the principals were seated and the rest of the savages bunched as close as they could get before asking that question.
"He comes in his own time," Osceola said. "I am ears for the Seminoles. Tell me, what is the word from your President?"
Knowing Osceola's low opinion of the man the Seminoles referred to as Old Mad Jackson, Reddin doubted that Osceola would easily accept any words of peace from the President. His face didn't change expression as Hernandez explained that the President was eager for the costly war to come to an end and for the Seminoles to go to the reservation as they'd agreed long ago. Pulling out a rolled document, Hernandez explained that it contained the President's exact words. Costly, Reddin thought. Costly didn't explain the half of it. He'd all but brought ruin to his plantation and he still didn't have anything to show for it.
But soon—
Osceola lifted his arm in a semi-salute. At the signal, a brave who'd been standing by his chief's shoulder started toward the gate. "I do not understand talking leaves," Osceola explained. "I call on one who does."
Willing himself not to give away his excitement, Reddin drew even further into the shadows. It made hearing the conversation difficult, but he didn't dare let Calida see him until the trap had been sprung. For the first time since things got started, he thought about the big nigger who was said to be Panther's co-chief, but the man wasn't anywhere to be seen. Either he knew better than to show his black face or he was off somewhere in the wilderness with even more braves, waiting for the chance to attack.
Calida walked like a nervous deer. So graceful that it took his breath away, she stepped inside the fort and looked slowly, warily around. She wore a short dress that left her long legs exposed and moccasins that hugged her feet like a second skin. She was, he acknowledged, dressed for running. And she wasn't alone. Panther's features were carefully neutral. He carried a musket, and a knife was strapped to his waist. Arrogant as hell, he wore nothing except a loincloth, which accented his fit physical condition. What was it with the savage? The greater the hardship, the stronger he became? Like Calida, Panther assessed his surroundings. When his mouth tightened, Reddin guessed he was upset because he couldn't see into every nook and cranny. You will soon enough, you savage. Only, by then it'll be too late.
Neither Calida nor Panther sat, but that didn't seem to bother Osceola, and General Hernandez chose to ignore their breach of etiquette. After too damn much conversation in Seminole, Osceola indicated that Calida would translate the President's document for him. When Hernandez started to hand the paper to Calida, Panther grabbed it. He studied it so intently that it was all Reddin could do not to laugh. Finally, Panther slid his knife under the ribbon that held it in place and extended it toward Calida. The two exchanged long, studied looks.
Calida began reading, but her voice was so soft and low that Reddin couldn't hear what she was saying. Osceola, Coa Hadjo, and Panther all leaned forward, their eyes intent on her. The rest of the Seminoles stopped muttering among themselves. Only Panther occasionally glanced around. Once Osceola grunted approval of something Calida had said, but no one else spoke. Seconds pulsed by.
When Hernandez pulled on his starched collar, the gesture looked so natural that none of the Seminoles took note of it. The general didn't so much as take his eyes off Calida. Reddin, watching Panther, noticed that something had changed about him. If anything, he looked even more wary. Slipping a few inches away from Calida, Panther studied Hernandez so intently that after a few seconds, the general stirred restlessly.
Calida finished reading. Silent, she handed the document to Osceola. Panther started to say something, but he never got the chance.
Suddenly, over a hundred well-armed soldiers rushed through the open fort gate. Reddin had only one thought—to disarm Panther. Taking advantage of the now-milling Indians, he hurried close. Panther was trying to reach Hernandez and protect Calida at the same time. Unfortunately, he couldn't do either because so many Indians crowded around him.
"You lie!" Panther bellowed. "White tongues know only lies!"
Osceola jumped to his feet, but someone jostled him and he started to fall. Grabbing the chief around the waist, Calida struggled to support him.
"Calida, run!"
Galvanized by Panther's command, Calida drew away from Osceola. Osceola bellowed something Reddin didn't understand. Calida whirled and began plowing her way through the bodies. Reddin could hardly believe his good fortune when she headed his way!
He was reaching for her when she looked up, and their eyes locked. Loving the horror mirrored in her stare, he took advantage of her shock by throwing himself at her. They went down in a tangle of arms and legs with him landing on top of her. The moment he wrapped his arm around her neck, she dug in with her nails. He slugged her once, twice, three times before she stopped struggling. Breathing raggedly, he hauled first himself and then her to their feet.
The Seminoles were already surrounded. Although the majority of them had been armed, only a handful had pointed their weapons, not that it mattered. Next to the well-armed soldiers, the Seminoles' rusty old muskets or primitive bows and arrows were no match.
Out of the corner of his eye, Reddin saw that Panther had managed to distance himself from the others. Musket pointed at Hernandez's belly, he waited.
"It won't do you any good, Panther," Reddin yelled. The fingers of his left hand were locked in Calida's hair. Careful to let Panther see what he was doing, he pulled out his pistol and pressed it against her forehead. Her arms sagged at her side, and he guessed it took what was left of her senses to keep her legs under her. "You shoot the general and I'll kill her."
"No!"
"You think I won't? Or maybe she doesn't matter that much to you."
"Panther..."
Panther. Yeah, he looked like one all right, tense and wary, trying to decide when and where to attack, only he'd been defeated even if he didn't yet know it.
"Do you have any idea what would happen to you if you killed a general?" Reddin challenged. "They'd hang you. You don't stand
a chance. Don't you see that? Maybe you won't live long enough to be hanged. Maybe you'll be so riddled by bullets in a few seconds that it'll all be over, and you'll never know what happened to her."
He had him. Damn it, he had him! Eyes glittering with hate and something Reddin took to be fear for Calida, the savage slowly lowered his weapon.
Chapter 26
Alone. Alone with Reddin Croon.
Fighting both nausea and dizziness, Calida concentrated on placing one foot after another. She hated being dragged along by him but lacked the strength and clear-headedness necessary to fight. With every step that took her farther from the fort and Panther, she struggled against her weakness.
That and the sick memory of watching an army man throw ropes over Panther's wrists. He'd been a prisoner the first time she'd seen him. Would that be her last memory of the man she loved? If so, she wished Reddin had killed her instead of rendering her unconscious.
"You should have stayed out there," Reddin said. "Should have never come in. 'Course, if you hadn't, he probably would have stayed with you, and I wouldn't like that. Wouldn't like that at all."
She didn't care what Croon said or did to her. All she could think of was Panther's helpless rage—that and their baby's safety. At that thought, a fresh wave of nausea stole her strength. She fought it until it was under control, but the effort left her too weak to resist. Croon still had his pistol, although it was now tucked back in his belt. He also carried a knife.
"Do you know how long I've waited for this?" he asked almost conversationally. "To have you back again—your mama's dead, isn't she? Isn't she?" he insisted when Calida didn't immediately answer. He released her hair but quickly grabbed her upper arms and squeezed. Pain shot through her. She tasted blood from her split lip. "Look, you're not knocked out anymore. You can talk. Listen to me. You're still a little bit of a thing, a sweet piece, all right. You've gotten stronger though. I can feel your muscles." He roughly massaged her arms to accent his point. "I won't forget that." A frown touched his forehead. Still holding her so tightly that she was losing circulation in her arms, he cocked his head to one side. "Can't hear them anymore. That means no one's going to know what happens between the two of us, not that I give a damn."