Tallapoosa

  “Where’s Cal?” asked Saul.

  “He’s back in the shed tending to the livestock,” said Adelin.

  Soosquana changed the topic. “Did any warriors pass by today?”

  “Not while I was down there. Why?

  “I’ve not seen anyone on the trail or canoeing the river since several days before it rained.” Soosquana looked worried. “I thought that when it stopped raining yesterday we would see warriors travel again. It is strange, is it not?”

  “Yes, it seems so, Soos,” agreed Saul. He didn’t want to alarm her as he was certain that something bad was brewing. To avoid further discussion, he held up the fish again. “I have to get these beauties cleaned for my supper.”

  Adelin finished distributing the clothes for drying and returned to the brook. She scooped up a handful of sand from the bottom of the stream and began scrubbing it into a cooking pot. Caked soot came free under the wet sand and vigorous hand.

  “Adelin,” Soosquana asked with a troubled voice, “do you think Tolokika and Ettepti-lopa went to Cholocco Litabixi?”

  “I don’t know, Soos. I suppose they might have. Pokkataw said he was going there. He’ll find them and, together, they’ll be all right.” Adelin paused and nodded reassuredly. “They’ll be all right,” she repeated, “even if they are with the angriest of the Red Sticks.”

  “Adelin, my brothers are the angriest!”

  Adelin looked at her and read terror in Soosquana’s face.

  “It is their anger that puts them in much danger,” Soosquana continued. “I have already lost my father and one brother. I don’t know where my mother and sisters are or how they fare. Now I am in much fear for the fate of my last two brothers.”

  Adelin fought an aching heart and tried to turn the conversation and Soosquana’s thoughts back to baby Anna.

  “Anna is really growing, Soos. She’s gaining every day.”

  “Yes, she is twice her weight at birth.”

  “She is going to be a healthy, happy little girl. I can hardly wait until she starts talking. She will be better with both English and Muskogean together than anyone ever has before.”

  Soosquana brightened. “Here, Adelin, let me finish the pots. Anna wishes to take you for a walk. Don’t disappoint her.”

  Adelin laughed and eagerly wiped her hands dry on the legs of her britches. She reached for the baby. “I would be delighted, Anna, to go for a walk with you.”

  A little later, Saul reappeared from his cabin. Cal walked with him. Soosquana had finished the washing chore and sat in a chair under the bright sun. Adelin strolled over, jostling Anna in her arms and talking to her, succeeding once more in provoking a smile from the baby.

  “What’s that?” asked Adelin, pointing to the implements in Saul’s hands.

  “It’s a bow.” Saul thrust the device forward. “From the Hillabi villages. And arrows. Pokkataw gave them to us last summer.”

  “He thought we might like to learn to hunt like the Creeks,” added Cal. “Haven’t tried it yet, though.”

  “So give it a go, big man,” teased Adelin.

  “Me first,” declared Saul, stringing the bow and selecting an arrow. “Put us up a target, brother.”

  Cal found a scrap of rabbit fur and pressed it against the bark of a pine tree near the river ford trail. “That’s only thirty yards, big brother. See what you can do.”

  Saul notched the arrow and took careful aim. He loosed the projectile and it stuck solid in the tree. The wrong tree, two yards to the right.

  Cal doubled over laughing.

  “My turn. Let me show you how to hit that old rabbit.”

  His arrow went past the tree, well into the brush beyond. He couldn’t escape a dose of ridicule of his own. Several more shots by each man improved the results but little. The rabbit skin remained safe.

  Adelin stopped laughing when Cal thrust the bow at her.

  “And now, Miss Sharpshooter, let’s see you do your stuff.”

  Adelin passed Anna off to Soosquana. “All right, I will. I’ll show you mighty woodsmen how to do that.”

  Adelin took the bow, notched an arrow, and pulled on the string. It only moved a few inches before she relaxed her arms. “This thing is hard!” she exclaimed. The men laughed aloud. Adelin turned to try again. “But never fear. I can do it if you big oafs can.”

  She pulled mightily, getting the arrow to a little more than half cock before releasing it. The arrow flew straight, but weakly. It plunked at the base of the tree, sticking majestically into the soil. Increased laughter and derision.

  “I’m not through yet,” Adelin pledged. “I’ll get it this time.”

  She put down the bow and reached for her musket leaning against a chair. She stepped up again and looked toward the target. She levered the flint to full cock and set the strike plate. Taking careful aim, she pulled the trigger, bringing a flash at the vent and an explosion of flame, smoke, and noise from the weapon’s muzzle. The rabbit fur leaped and fell from the tree, a large, neat hole in its center.

  Adelin turned and curtsied amid the cheers, a big smile on her face. “One dead rabbit fur, gentlemen,” she said.

  They all laughed again, all but Soosquana. She had turned somber once more.

  “If the Muskogis must fight the white army,” she said, hugging Anna tightly, “I hope they do it with muskets and not with bows shooting arrows.”

  33

  The Murph settlement, late March, 1814

  Cal awoke to find Adelin gone from the cabin. He dressed hurriedly and stepped to the porch. He met a bright, brisk morning but no Adelin. Concerned, Cal reached back inside for his musket and pouch and walked into the yard. At the bluff he looked down at the river. Adelin sat in the gravel at the edge of the water with her back to the bluff. She idly picked up a pebble and tossed it into the torrent. Then she sat still for a long minute.

  Cal squatted and watched her. He remained silent as she flipped another rock, obviously aiming at nothing. She repeated the ritual several times.

  Adelin seemed to be crying.

  Cal stirred and softly walked to the path and down. As he reached the river bank, Adelin saw him coming, stood up, and waited. She fell into his arms and sobbed hard against his chest. Cal hugged her tight.

  “Cal,” she sputtered as she fought for control. She sniffed. “Cal, I miss the farm. I miss my family. Mother, Father, Bess Marie, Zack, my animals.”

  “I understand,” Cal sympathized, and he thought that he did understand, perhaps clearly for the first time. “I’m sorry, Adelin. Maybe I’ve been unfair to you.” Adelin looked up at him, surprised. “Do you want to go home?”

  “No, silly,” Adelin replied emphatically. “I don’t want to go anywhere. This is my home and I love it here.” Still reveling in Cal’s hug, she squeezed him back. “I love you. I love Soos and Saul, and I adore Anna.” She giggled, mixing it with another sniff. “Can’t a girl miss her folks and still be happy?”

  “Sure you can.” Cal held her in a tight embrace for a long time. “Sure you can.” He released her and took her hand. “Come on.”

  Cal led Adelin upstream to the head of the shoals and out onto a large flat boulder near the middle. They sat down, facing each other. Cal reached out and took both of Adelin’s hands in his. They stared and smiled at each other in silence for a long time, and then began to talk. The river rushed past, singing its song and isolating them in their private, intimate world.

  They talked of little things, of happy memories, of sad ones. They talked about the loved ones at home, at the Holman farm and the Murphs back in Virginia. They shared newly recalled stories and secrets. They laughed at silly thoughts and fond remembrances. Adelin cried again, then laughed about it.

  An hour passed easily, without their notice. Finally Cal looked up, suddenly aware of the world. He sighed. “I wish I c
ould stay right here with you all day,” he said to Adelin, “but we better get back. Saul and Soos will be worried about us.”

  Adelin smiled her own regret and reached for Cal to pull her up from her seated position. They stepped across the rocks and walked up the path with their arms around each other.

  Saul and Soos weren’t worried. Saul had spotted Cal and Adelin from the bluff and knew to leave them alone. Soosquana had experienced the same melancholies shortly after their wedding and several times since. So had Saul and Cal, but they hid it better than the women.

  Later, near the conclusion of the noon meal, Saul turned to Cal. “I think we should walk up the road a piece and look for sign of visitors. With the Red Sticks stirring and the army about, I’d like to know if we’re being watched, and if unfriendlies are passing close.”

  “Good thinking,” agreed Cal. “I’ll get my musket.”

  “We’ll only go a short way,” Saul told the women. “Fire a shot if you need us. We’ll be sure to hear.”

  A hundred yards up the road, Saul asked, “Adelin all right?”

  “Yeah. She misses her folks. Can’t blame her.”

  “That’s normal. You have to be patient.”

  “I know. She’s a strong woman, and she really does love it here. She’ll be all right.”

  Into the woods, the two spread to either side of the trace to scout for signs that shouldn’t be there. Finding nothing unusual, they widened the search to cover several yards into the brush all along the road. About a half mile from the compound, at the bottom of a long hill, Saul was satisfied.

  “Looks like nothing here, Cal. I don’t think the Red Sticks are interested in us. Let’s go back.”

  Saul and Cal turned together, looked up the hill, and froze. At the top stood a Red Stick, arm raised with palm forward in a signal of peace.

  “Who is he?” asked Cal, readying his musket.

  “Don’t know. Too far to tell.”

  “He looks friendly. And he seems to be alone.”

  “Not likely. He probably has friends hidden on both sides of the road.”

  “What do we do?”

  Saul took a deep breath, checked the prime of his weapon, and cradled it across his chest in the crook of his left arm. “We’ll go see what he wants.” He took the first step forward. “Stay wide.”

  Halfway up the hill, Cal knew the warrior. “He’s the man Adelin and I met on the lake canoeing. He came with Pokkataw once and ate supper with us.”

  Saul also recognized him. He fought hard to recall his name. He knew the Creeks were usually insulted if strangers didn’t remember them by name. Almost there, he had it.

  “His name is Meeskapa,” Saul said quietly to Cal. Each held an arm high, palm showing, as they approached to within yards of the man.

  “Meeskapa. Friend,” greeted Saul.

  The man returned the greeting in Muskogean. Most of the words were unintelligible to Saul and Cal, but the meaning was clear.

  “We’re happy to see you again,” continued Saul, enhancing his words with crude sign language and gestures. “What is the purpose of your visit?”

  Meeskapa, employing signs of his own, launched into a long explanation. Saul and Cal heard “Pokkataw” several times, and picked out the Muskogean for “danger” and several equally ominous words and phrases. They interjected occasionally with grunts and signals of comprehension, and slowly put together the warrior’s message. He explained that their great mutual friend Pokkataw, before leaving for Cholocco Litabixi, had requested that Meeskapa and other friends look in often on the Murphs and see that no harm came to them by way of Red Sticks. Pokkataw had made it clear to fellow Hillabi tribesmen that no one was to approach the Murph compound with hostile intent, for these whites were friends of the Muskogis. So Meeskapa had been around for several weeks making certain that Pokkataw’s wishes were followed. But he and his companions would leave that evening for the Horseshoe with the remainder of the Hillabi and Oakfuski warriors.

  “We are honored that you have watched over us,” declared Saul, hoping that his sign language carried his sincerity. “We thank you with all our being. Our brother Pokkataw is truly a great man and a good friend. Please give him our greeting of friendship and admiration when you see him. We wish him and you peace, good fortune, and long lives.”

  Meeskapa nodded, seeming to understand, and reached for Saul’s hand. The men shared a long, strong handshake. Meeskapa, as did Pokkataw, understood the white man’s gesture of good will, and he repeated it with Cal. The two moved past the Indian and dropped below the crest of the hill toward the compound. Meeskapa still stood atop the hill following them with his watchful gaze each time Saul and Cal looked back.

  The two shared with Soosquana and Adelin the story of their meeting with Meeskapa. The women didn’t know whether to be horrified to have been under such close unknown scrutiny, or to be thrilled that their Muskogi neighbors regarded their friendship so richly. All four felt a new appreciation for the humanity of the Muskogi people. Soosquana, considering what the white man’s army had done to the Hillabi towns and to her own home village only a few months back, thought that the warriors’ protection of them was especially noble.

  The remainder of the day passed routinely, and after supper the couples retired to their respective cabins. As soon as Cal closed the door behind him Adelin assaulted him with a vigorous hug and a barrage of kisses.

  “What’s that for?” Cal managed to ask, breathless.

  Adelin laughed. She kissed him again. “Because I love you. And because you’re so wonderful.” Her attack continued, then she turned sober. “Cal, thank you so much for this morning. You are the best husband in the Mississippi Territory.”

  At midnight a thunderstorm rolled up the river. Flashes from crashing lightning illuminated lovers content in each other’s arms.

  34

  Near the Tallapoosa River, March 26, 1814

  No fires burned on the crests of the two ridges. Instead, sentries, mounted and on foot, patrolled with eyes focused and ears tuned. This would not be a night to be inattentive.

  A small creek flowed through the hollow between the ridges. Beside it camped three thousand soldiers of General Jackson’s army. A minimum of damped and sheltered campfires burned near the stream to cook paltry bits of bacon or to heat coffee, but mostly the men supped on hard biscuit and water or cold coffee. A thousand cavalry horses and wagon mules stood pastured for the night at an ample downstream clearing, hobbled within a large rope corral so they could find forage to go with the creek water. Scores of wagons containing ammunition, provisions, and surgical supplies sat on a level atop one of the ridges, heavily guarded. Nearby, the two artillery pieces rested on their carriages, still attached to the limbers.

  “Double the sentries and change them every half hour,” ordered Colonel Billy Carroll, acting on Jackson’s instructions. “Patrol both ridges for a full mile, with horsemen riding the whole length. Set sentries in the creek bottom and on the slopes, in both directions, and completely around the livestock corral. Also, post stationary guards overlooking every possible trail of approach. Any movement is to be reported.”

  “Yes, sir,” responded the captain of the guard.

  Carroll turned to a young lieutenant. “Gather a squad and walk the perimeter of the encampment. Make certain that all bivouacs are positioned close. No one is to be out of plain sight of others.”

  The army had hacked its way through dense wilderness and arrived at the camp location shortly past midafternoon. The crude road had linked ridge to ridge to endless ridge since leaving Fort Williams, an arduous three days journey that wearied the troops, not from the difficult task of clearing the way but from impatience at the slow pace. They wished to find the enemy and engage them.

  At dusk General Jackson met with his command officers.

  “Gentlemen, this is proba
bly our final session for strategy,” he began. “I fully expect to meet the enemy in the morning. We still know too little of their strength of arms, and woefully little of the terrain we face.”

  “Where are we tonight, General, in relation to their position?”

  “Our scouts tell us we are camped about six miles northwest of our objective and a few miles north of the Tallapoosa. This creek is perhaps an eastern branch of Hillabi Creek.” Jackson beckoned the officers to scan the crude map before him. “We march at daybreak. The main body of the infantry and the artillery will reach Emuckfau Creek and parallel the river from there. That should funnel us into the north of the Horseshoe. From there we will judge the lay of the land for ourselves.

  “We will select the best placement for our artillery pieces and, if the stories of their barricade are true, the cannon will knock it down with a barrage of round shot. That wall will be mounds of splinters by midmorning. Then we attack with the infantry, hopefully against a minimum of remaining resistance. As already outlined, Colonel Williams and the regulars will lead from the center, the West Tennessee militia on the left, and the East to the right. Commanders, deploy your companies on the field as the terrain affords you best advantage.

  “General Coffee.” Jackson looked around for his friend and trusted associate. “Not knowing beforehand how effective your horsemen will be, we shall deploy you south of the river. Our scouts reported back this afternoon that there are extensive shallows with a reasonable ford about two miles downstream from the mouth of Emuckfau Creek. I propose that you take your cavalry regiment with two companies of rangers and most of the Cherokees and take possession of the south bank of the river. Hold your ground from there and await a proper signal. But permit no escape by way of crossing the river.”

  “Yes, General,” beamed Coffee. “My lads are more than capable.” He surmised that his horsemen might yet see more action than first thought. “Drive the savages our way, sir. We’ll be the ending for them.”