Passage to Natchez

Home > Other > Passage to Natchez > Page 39
Passage to Natchez Page 39

by Cameron Judd


  He shifted his eyes back to Japheth, who was just beginning to tell his own story of being robbed on what he called the “Boatman’s Trail,” just one of several names of the narrow trace that ran from Natchez up through the country of the Choctaws, Chickasaws, and Cherokees, to the rich Cumberland River country at Nashville. This was the land route by which most Kaintucks returned home after disposing of their goods and river vessels in the lower Mississippi market towns.

  Japheth proved himself a storyteller nearly of the caliber of McCracken. He gave a vivid account of how, when returning from business farther up the trace, he had been accosted along a narrow, shaded portion of the way by a man dressed in rough woodsman’s clothing, his bearded face blackened with charcoal to make his features hard to make out. The man, who had seemed almost apologetic in his manner, demanded that Japheth dismount from his horse and turn over all money and valuables he was carrying. “Throughout, the man told me repeatedly that he didn’t wish to harm me, that he was robbing me only out of necessity, and that my cooperation would make the entire process short and painless. He made efforts not to look me squarely in the face, and I took that at first to be because of his shame. Soon, though, I made out the clear markings of a scar across his face, a kind of furrow that the blackening he had done failed to hide because of his sweat, which tended to wash it away. I realized it was that scar he didn’t want me to see, because it was an identifying mark.”

  Clardy asked, “Can you be sure he looked like me, if he was blackened up?”

  “Indeed. The poor fellow had done a rather poor job of it, to be honest, and his sweat was unveiling him bit by bit the entire time I was in his presence. Furthermore, I’ve made it a point to be skilled at memorizing faces—that’s a helpful ability in my line of work—and I came away from that robbery with a clear image of that man’s features. I made a sketch as soon as I was home again.… Celinda, where is that drawing? Have I left it in my office?”

  “No,” she said, rising. “It’s in yonder cabinet. I’ll fetch it.”

  Clardy watched her walk across the room and open a drawer in a well-stuffed cabinet. She dug through papers and came out with a piece of folded foolscap that she unfolded and brought to her husband. She returned to her seat, her expression solemn and her manner telling Clardy all the more strongly that this entire meeting was somehow unpleasant for her.

  Japheth unfolded the paper and nodded. “Ah, yes. This is it. Even though I’m no artist, I think I caught his look quite well. Certainly there is a resemblance to yourself, Mr. Tyler.” He handed the paper over, and Clardy found himself eyeing what indeed seemed to be a picture, however imperfect and rough, of Thias. It unsettled him.

  “This is him! I know it’s Thias!”

  “I’m both pleased and displeased that you think so,” Japheth said. “To track down a missing brother is good. To find him reduced to robbery isn’t. And I regret that it has been so long since I saw him. There is nothing to say he is still in this region. I’ve heard no reports of any other robberies committed by James Hiram in the last year or more, though prior to that there was quite a flurry of them.”

  “How did he come to tell you his name?” Ford asked.

  “I asked him.” Japheth shrugged and smiled. “I know that sounds odd, but the man was so nervous that I believed he might answer. I’ve dealt with enough of the criminal ilk to know that often they will reveal the most damning truths even in the midst of trying to cover them. I asked him, and he answered promptly. ‘James Hiram.’ I had heard that name before—two or three prior robberies having been done by a person using that name.”

  “It would be like Thias to not have his wits about him while doing something like that,” Clardy said. “I swear to you he isn’t criminal by nature. All through our growing up, it was me who leaned more in that direction, and Thias who everyone declared as good.”

  “I wonder where else he might be, if he don’t turn out to be hereabouts?” Ford asked.

  “Who can say?” Japheth replied. “My guess would be New Orleans. Many a man has fled down that way when he feels the heat on him here. It is easy to lose oneself in the underbelly of that city.”

  “Perhaps you should be seeking him there, rather than here, Clardy,” Ford said.

  “Maybe. I’m inclined to turn over all the stones here first.”

  “That’s what I would recommend,” Japheth said. “But how do you plan to go about it, Mr. Tyler?”

  Clardy had thought very little about that. Up until now his goal had simply been to reach Natchez; now that he was here, he realized the bigger challenge still lay ahead. “I’m not certain. I suppose I’ll sull around the riverfront for a time, asking questions, looking for sign.”

  “That could be dangerous,” Japheth said solemnly. “Questioners aren’t generally welcome among the riverfront folk. But I suppose you must. And I’ll try to find out all I can to help you. Where will you be living?”

  “We’re on the flatboat, for now,” Clardy replied. “I suppose I’ll take a room somewhere.”

  Japheth said. “Perhaps you would consider staying with …” He trailed off when Celinda turned a shocked expression upon him. “… er, perhaps taking a room somewhere would be just the thing,” he completed.

  Clardy was sure then that Celinda Deerfield really didn’t think much of him. Obviously, Japheth had been about to offer him board right here in this house.

  “That’s what I’ll do, then,” Clardy said. Feeling an impulse to try to put Celinda’s mind at ease, he turned to her and said, “Mrs. Deerfield, I thank you for your hospitality this evening. Here it is getting on toward deep night, and we’re sitting in your parlor, keeping you from your rest. I apologize. Mr. Ford, I believe it’s time for us to go.”

  “No need to rush away,” Japheth said.

  “I believe we should impositionize ourselves here no more,” Ford said. “Mrs. Deerfield, you’ve indeed been a prime hostess. I’m sorry to have been the one to first disturb you this evening.”

  Mr. Ford can tell, too, that she’s unhappy. Clardy felt a vague dismay. He wondered what there was about all this that was so unpleasant to her.

  “I’m glad that my husband was able to help you gentlemen,” she replied, sounding insincere.

  “Might I keep this drawing, Mr. Deerfield?” Clardy asked.

  “Indeed. It might be a good reference for you to use in your inquiries. Come, gentlemen. I’ll walk you out.”

  Outside the house, Japheth glanced back at the closed door and said, lowly, “I apologize if my wife seemed distant or cold. I gather there is something in all this that has disturbed her. Sometimes some odd thing or another bring her own trial back to her mind.”

  “McCracken told us her story,” Ford said. “I stand in awe of what your wife suffered through, and I’m glad to see her life has turned out well. I’m sure you are a fine husband for her.”

  “I try to be.”

  Clardy said, “Mr. Deerfield, I’m ready to pay you for your service this evening.”

  “Pay? Indeed not! I’m paid already simply by knowing your story. Furthermore, any man who helped rid the world of Micajah Harpe certainly deserves to receive a few good turns in sheer gratitude. I’ll charge you no fee.”

  Clardy was surprised. No fee! “But sir, I—”

  “I insist, Mr. Tyler. I have an interest in your quest myself, as you might suppose, having met ‘James Hiram.’ All I ask of you is to allow me to help you in any way I can, and that you keep me informed as to your progress.”

  “Well … thank you, sir. I’ll do that.”

  “One other thing … It’s fairly common for me to go to New Orleans. The odds are good that I’ll be going there before long. If it happens that you’ve not yet found your brother by then, and if you’re still in the area when I go, I’ll be glad to take you with me. It may be that our friend has gone on down the river.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

  After saying their farewells, Cl
ardy and Isaac Ford walked slowly through the Natchez streets. It was Clardy’s first chance to look closely at the town; up until now he had been distracted by the rather rude event of having been thrown in and then out of jail, and all the activity that followed. Above the bluff, Natchez had a patrician air of wealth, solidity, firm establishment. Even by darkness Clardy could see the elegance of the finer houses, many of them outright mansions. A fine courthouse stood imposingly in the midst of the town. Clardy thought it generally finer looking than Nashville, his best reference point for judging municipalities. But as he and Ford descended to the lower riverfront portion, the atmosphere of Natchez changed dramatically. There was nothing beautiful or aesthetic about Natchez-under-the-Hill. Hovels, dives, taverns … by night it looked like a jumble of wooden boxes thrown off the bluff above and scooted roughly into order blow.

  “I wonder if Thias has ever drained a cup here?” Clardy mused.

  “I want to talk to you about Thias,” Ford said. “Seems to me there’s a part of this you ain’t give much thought to yet.”

  “What?”

  “What’s going to happen to him, once you find him, and if he really has turned robber?”

  “Well … I suppose I’ll try to get him away from here, try to get him straightened out. I don’t know … that ain’t something I’ve dwelt on.”

  “You’d best dwell on it. If he’s robbed folk, he’ll have to answer to the law. Have you thought out that Deerfield might have a different motivization than you in wanting to find him?”

  Clardy paused. “No. I haven’t.” Another pause, then a shake of his head. “No, Mr. Ford. I don’t think he’s aiming to avenge himself against him.”

  “He wouldn’t see it as that. It would be just one more case of criminal justice to him. And it’d be a feather in his cap as a lawyer to be the man to bring in a highwayman who’s plagued folks hereabouts. You saw them fine houses up on the bluff. This here is a city of dignity. A pretty, lush, rich kind of place, in its upper portions. It’s the reputation of Under-the-Hill, and the highwaymen and killers out on the Boatman’s Trail, that smirch up the name of the town. The good and upright folk of Natchez aren’t going to favor going easy on robbers. And you can tell that Deerfield is among the good and upright. And didn’t you notice him talking about having a ‘personal interest’ in what you’re doing, because James Hiram robbed him?”

  “I heard it, but …” Clardy shook his head. “I don’t see him like you do. I believe he’s just plain interested in what I’m doing. It didn’t come across to me that he’s wanting to see Thias punished.”

  “Thias robbed him. He can’t overlook that.”

  “Maybe he can. He overlooked my fee tonight, didn’t he? He seems a big-hearted man.”

  “Or maybe he overlooked that fee because he figures you for a means of getting his hands on the man who robbed him, and wants to keep you feeling in his debt.”

  “I never knew you to be such a cynical old soul. You’re starting to sound as sour on the world as my old grandpap was.”

  “I’m just saying you need to think through what it will be like if you do find Thias. It’s clear enough he don’t want to be found, else he wouldn’t be using false names and hiding out. If he’s turned bad, he’ll—”

  “Don’t say he’s turned bad. Maybe it’s just that things have turned bad for him. Maybe he don’t have any choice but to rob.”

  “That’s a bill of goods I won’t buy, Clardy. Things turn bad for all kinds of folks, but that don’t unwrite the moral law. There’s always two choices, whatever your circumstances: the good or the bad. Either way, it’s the responsibility of him who chooses. For every man who gets hisself into a crush and steps outside the law because of it, there’s a dozen more in the same kind of crush who hold out and do right, and they rise and stand witness against the first man. No sir. Bad circumstances ain’t no excuse for doing wrong.”

  “I ain’t in the mood for your preaching, Mr. Ford.”

  “All I’m saying is, you need to think all this through: what’s going to happen now, and when you find him.”

  “He’s my brother. You let me worry about him.”

  “Fine. But you’re my partner, and my friend, and I’m shot if I’m going to quit worrying about you.”

  They reached the flatboat and found McCracken waiting impatiently. The horses were off the boat now, penned at a stable nearby, but McCracken said he had been obliged to keep watch on the boat anyway because his slaves, like horses, could be stolen. He demanded to know where Ford and Clardy had been so long, leaving him in the lurch. Ford quickly recounted all that happened, and McCracken’s anger eased.

  “You’ve had you quite an evening, then,” he said. “More interesting than mine … but that’s due to change here in a minute. I’m off to the taverns, boys. You keep watch for a time. I’ll be back later on.”

  “Drunk as a redskin, probably,” Ford muttered.

  “Durn right,” McCracken said, winking. Within a minute he was gone, vanishing into the rough line of buildings that made up Natchez-under-the-Hill, a place so dismal that it managed to achieve an inverted kind of splendor.

  After his visitors left, Japheth Deerfield had gone back inside his house with a dark look on his face. “Celinda, I demand to know why you were so cold to our guests.”

  Celinda felt stung. Rarely did Japheth speak to her in anything but a gentle tone. “I didn’t know I was being cold, Japheth. And I thought they were more clients than guests.”

  “Come now, Celinda. You were all but icy. It poured off you! And you know that anyone who steps inside our walls here, client or not, is a guest for the time he is with us.”

  Celinda knew better than to continue to deny her chilly behavior. She had felt coldly toward the two men, though she hadn’t realized her feelings were so transparent. “I’m sorry, Japheth. The truth is, I don’t know why. Perhaps it was … I don’t know.”

  Japheth, never a man to hold his anger long, changed his manner. He was a tender man; it was one of the characteristics that made her love him. “Dear, if they offended you in some way, I’m the one who must apologize. It was late to be bringing strangers into our home. They talked loudly; I’m sure you feared they would wake up Beulahland.”

  “It wasn’t that, Japheth. It was … Japheth, I beg you, please don’t become involved with those men. Let Mr. Tyler hunt for his wicked brother alone. It needn’t involve you.”

  “Well … it needn’t, that’s true. But it intrigues me. Put yourself in Mr. Tyler’s place. Imagine having lost contact with a brother for so many years, and then to learn that he apparently has become a criminal, using a false name. You would want to find the truth, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “But there is something here that doesn’t rest well. I feel like that Mr. Tyler will bring us trouble. His brother already has. You might have been killed in that robbery.”

  “But I wasn’t. And why do you say Clardy Tyler would bring us trouble?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just a thing I feel.”

  “Dear, Mr. Tyler and his friend here were no bad men. They’re planters, horse dealers. Honest men of Nashville. And besides, you know that nothing more than a ‘feeling’ about someone really doesn’t count for much without facts to back it up.”

  “Don’t put me on trial, Japheth. I know I can’t defend my feelings. But even so, they’re still my feelings. I just don’t want you involved with Mr. Tyler or his sorry brother. I don’t.”

  “‘Involved.’ Not really the word, darling. All I’m doing is offering my moral support.” He hesitated. “That, and a means for Mr. Tyler to reach New Orleans later, if his search should take him that way. I’ll be going anyway, and there would be no harm in taking him along.”

  “Why not let him tend his own business? You got the man out of jail. What more do you care about him or his brother?”

  “I was robbed by his brother, was I not? If James Hiram really is his brother.”

/>   “Yes, but …” She paused, cocking her head as she did at moments of sudden realization. “Is that why you want to see James Hiram found? So you can bring him to justice?”

  Japheth flicked his brows. “There would have to be some sort of reckoning, I would think. I doubt that Mr. Tyler expects anything less.”

  “So would you see him brought before the court for his crimes?”

  “I would hope he would surrender himself voluntarily, and … but all that is for future consideration, dear. The man isn’t even found yet, and the odds are high that he won’t be. This is a big region, and on top of that, I haven’t heard of James Hiram having showed himself hereabouts for months and months. He may be dead. Early ends often come to those who take up the criminal life.”

  Celinda grew silent and sad in manner. Shoulders slumping, she looked mournfully at her husband’s face. “Japheth, the whole business has something about it that fills me with dread. There’s a shadow hanging over it.”

  Japheth laughed and put his arms around her. “Is this my usually level-headed wife speaking? She who was raised by her father to be a clear thinker? Don’t worry, my dear. I’d never do anything that would bring trouble on my family. Perhaps I’m overly enthusiastic. I dearly love a puzzle, and Mr. Tyler’s has me intrigued. But I’ll maintain sufficient distance, and will keep my head, I promise. There. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  “Yes,” she replied, hugging him close. It was indeed what she had wanted to hear, but she also wanted to be able to believe it. And she didn’t. She knew her husband far too well. He wouldn’t keep his distance, and he would lose his head.

 

‹ Prev