I told Isabelle what I was goin’ to do, and she just tried to keep me from doin’ it, sayin’ I would live to regret ever gettin’ involved in the deal. Her pleadin’ didn’t matter, though. I was as determined on this as I’d ever been on anything before. I slipped my clothes back on, gave Isabelle a little kiss on the cheek, and sashayed on out of there. I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I would ever see my sweet Isabelle. My last picture of her is one I carry to this day. She was a sweeter girl than most regular folks would ever know, a young, scared girl who knew she didn’t quite fit in with most folks, and who, on that last night with me, clutched me tight in her arms with her head on my chest and begged me not to leave her.
I eased myself down the stairs and slid out the back door of Isabelle’s place just so I wouldn’t be noticed. The smell of the mud from the street that made up the riverfront found my nose real quick-like. I found myself a place well back in the brush in the total darkness and set down to think things out. From somewhere far off I heard an owl hootin’, and the familiar sound of crickets were all around me.
Like I said before, gettin’ across the river weren’t no problem at all, at least not with Red. We’d swam across the river many a time. The problem would be makin’ it as far as the river to begin with. To do that, Red and I would have to make it through the barricade somehow.
It came real quick to me that I was goin’ to have to create some kind of diversion in order to get through that Yankee barricade, but I wasn’t exactly sure how to make this happen. I told myself that the smart thing to do was to have Red saddled and ready to ride, regardless of what plan of action I chose. So, I climbed out of the brush and made my way southwestward along the riverfront until I got to the Garrison Road where Red stood corralled out behind Pappy’s store. I took the walk slow-like, tryin’ to figure on some kind of ruckus to start in order to get them Yankee sentinels to leave their posts down by the river, at least long enough for me to slip through and get across it. I couldn’t come up with nothin’.
Red snorted when he saw me. “Now, don’t you go to actin’ crazy, boy. We can’t have that tonight. We’re goin’ on a nice little nighttime ride, if everything goes accordin’ to plan.”
Red was one of the finest horses I ever owned, even though he tended to have a mind of his own most of the time. Somehow, on that night, I managed to throw a blanket and saddle on him in no time at all, and we were ready to go. Still afoot, I took the reins and led Red around to the side of Pappy’s store where we had us a bird’s-eye view of the Garrison Road. From somewhere down the road, I heard coins hittin’ a table and cries of laughter, which I figured to be Yankee soldier boys playin’ a late night game of poker.
Of a sudden, I seen a man emerge from out of the shadows not thirty feet from me, and he was talkin’ as he came. “Where ya goin’ this time of night, rebel boy?”
When he got close enough, I could see he was the pig-eyed Yankee officer from the whorehouse. Right then I knew I had the diversion I was lookin’ for.
“Well, I never considered myself much of a rebel, mister. Leastways, not the kind of rebel you think I am. I’ll tell you where I’m goin’. I’m ’bout to cross the river for the Indian Territory, and I’m goin’ to get word to Watie and them ’bout your little supply wagon comin’ through in a few days.”
Pig Eyes smiled. “So ya did overhear me, didn’t ya? Well, I figured ya did as soon as I left the riverfront. I’ve seen ya come and go during the day, so I kinda know who ya are. I knew ya kept your horse here behind your pa’s store, and I knew ya would come here if ya were plannin’ on any tricky business. And it sure looks like ya are.”
“I’ve seen you come and go, too, mister. I’ve seen you cheat honest family men out of their last dollar, and I’ve heard you slap around women when there weren’t no man around to stop you. I’m ’bout to bore a hole plumb through you, and then I’m headin’ for the Choctaw Nation to start the word ’bout your supply wagon.”
It was ’bout at that time that Pig Eyes starts up with his rifle. For a feller like me what had been workin’ hard at his quick draw, even though I wasn’t yet as fast as I would one day be, his was the slowest kind of action in the world. Why, it seemed like a five-minute movement from the time he started up with his rifle until he even got it halfway up, leastways to my eyes. There’s been many other occasions in my life where I’ve been up against the wall, and it’s always the same – everything to me moves real slow, and it seems like I’ve got all day to act. Leastways, I had Pig Eyes bored before he could get that rifle all the way up. My single-shot Navy came up easy, smooth, and fast. He got off one stray shot of that rifle before his knees buckled underneath him, and then he just lay there crumpled up on the boardwalk.
Both shots sounded like cannon fire on an otherwise quiet September evenin’.
That was ’bout the time the town of Fort Smith came alive.
3 Escape from Fort Smith
Of a sudden, I was facin’ some kind of situation. It struck me real quick-like that I’d just shot and killed a Federal officer, which was damn serious business. It weren’t in the act of war, either. It was as a civilian that I’d shot him. If I didn’t get myself out of Fort Smith – and pronto – them Federals would string my white ass up just like they’d done to so many others in recent months. That, or they’d line me up in front of a firin’ squad and blow me to hell in front of the whole town. I weren’t aimin’ to get it either of them two ways. Somehow, I came up with a kind of half-cocked idea on how to save my ass. My senses started pickin’ up everything. My eyes, even though it were dark, could clearly make out the trees and meadows what lay betwixt me and the Poteau. And my ears, even though the night air was now filled with a passel of human voices, as well as what sounded like a hundred men stompin’ down the boardwalk in my direction, could hear my own heart thumpin’. And thumpin’ it was! The hair on the back of my neck stood up with the exhilaration of the moment.
My plan, if you could call it such, was real simple. I intended to head straight for the Poteau just as fast as Red could get me there. I knew that the quicker I started for the river, the greater my chances of catchin’ them sentries in a state of confusion. And if I saw even one of them sentries tryin’ to raise a rifle barrel on me, I was goin’ to bore his flat-headed ass to kingdom come. I knew that the longer I tarried, the more time I was givin’ ’em to figure out what was goin’ on.
I kicked Red on both sides of his belly and headed him straight out of town for the Poteau. It weren’t but a matter of seconds before I caught sight of two sentry fires what lay betwixt me and my favorite crossin’ spot on the river. The fires looked to be ’bout two hundred feet or so apart.
I picked a spot that looked like it were exactly betwixt each of the fires and aimed Red and me straight for it. I figured I’d a couple of things goin’ in my favor. One, I was catchin’ ’em by surprise whilst they were in a state of confusion. And, two, it was as dark as hell itself that night! I could get my ass shot off for sure, but when you think for a minute ’bout my situation, you’ll see I did what I had to do.
‘Bout the time we were right betwixt both fires, I heard men screamin’ and rifle shots. I kept kickin’ Red, even though he didn’t need it. That horse knew the exact spot where we were headed, and he was runnin’ like the devil himself was behind us. Of a sudden, we came upon the bank of the river. Red shot out off that bank like he were shot out of a rifle barrel! I swear that damned horse covered nearly half the distance we had to go in that first leap! One good thing ‘bout the Poteau River, at least as it runs by Fort Smith, is that it’s deep enough for a good horse jump!
But, there is somethin’ ‘bout the Poteau River that I don’t like: It’s muddy as hell and full of water moccasins! I was thinkin’ ‘bout them water moccasins when them Yankee sentries started firin’ in the direction of the river. That got my mind off snakes real quick-like! I was lucky them sentries hadn’t made it up to the river banks yet, or else t
hey would’ve bored me for sure, for the Poteau ain’t wide enough a distance to offer a man protection, even in the dark of night. Red and me got to the west bank and pronto, kept our noses pointed southwesterly toward Skullyville, and made like we had lit torches up against our asses. I knew that Charlie Black Bear would be madder than hell when I woke him at this hour of a night, but I also knew that once he found out what message I was bringin’, he would thank me again and again for the rest of his life.
Red and I kept our southwesterly course for ‘bout five miles when we found ourselves on an eyebrow of a trail surrounded by brush on all sides. Of a sudden, the hair on my neck started to standin’ up, and I got a real funny feelin’ runnin’ through my body, like somebody had just walked right over my grave. I’d had this feelin’ many times before, and it were always a sure fire warnin’ of somethin’ – somethin’ I couldn’t see with my eyes, hear with my ears, or smell with my nose. Sure as hell, from out of the brush there appeared five or six gunmen. I reined Red to a stop, cursin’ myself for hellin’ into such a situation. I figured sure as hell them Yankees had me for good.
“Get your hands high in the air and look up toward the sky!” The voice somehow sounded familiar. I raised my hands in the air quick-like, not wantin’ to get my ass shot out of the saddle ’cause of them thinkin’ I was tryin’ somethin’. And, sure as hell, I arched my head up to the sky. Of a-sudden, I heard what sounded like four or five more of ’em comin’ out of the brush behind me, and I could hear ’em liftin’ their rifles up toward my head. I kind of resigned myself to the fact that I’d been caught, and I remember I took a look up at the stars, thinkin’ all the while that it might be my last night as a free man.
“All right. You bastards got me.”
Then I heard a familiar voice from behind me. “Is that you, Hawk Eyes? By damn, it is you! You crazy white-assed sonofabitch! What the hell are you doing out here?”
It was Big Buck Wright, a Choctaw, and one of the biggest, strongest, meanest sonofabitches to wear shoe leather. I knew right then that I’d ran smack dab into a passel of Confederate Choctaws and Chickasaws what’d been firin’ into the Fort Smith garrison from the brush on the west side of the Poteau. And I was sure enough relieved, because I knew all these here fellers, or at least the Choctaws. Hell, I’d been kickin’ ’round with ’em since I was just a kid.
“Buck, you big Indian bastard! I would have to know it was you what would scare the shit out of me like that!”
I let my arms down and then took a look at all of ’em around me. Hell, I knew most all of ’em, but Big Buck Wright I knew the best. Hell, I grew up with him. They all commenced to laughin’, and askin’ what I was doin’ out there in the middle of the night ridin’ hell for leather.
I commenced to tellin’ ’em everything what’d happened that night, from bein’ at Isabelle’s and overhearin’ ‘bout the Federal supply wagon, to borin’ Pig Eyes, and escapin’ the sentries to get across the Poteau only shortly before. I told ’em I was headin’ to Charlie Black Bear’s place just as fast as I could to give him the information ’bout the supply wagon, because he would know how to get that news to Watie and them. I told ’em I sure enough thought they was Yankees when they stopped me on the trail, and that for a minute there I’d given up on ever bein’ a free man again. I’d just knew they was Yankees what’d haul my ass back to Fort Smith and line me up in front of a firin’ squad for killin’ Mister Pig Eyes.
“Jesus, you all! You all scared the hell plumb out of me!” And they all commenced to laughin’ real hard again.
Big Buck spoke up. “Ah, but you escaped like the hawk and it is a good thing you did! Damn, I should know no man would ever keep you cornered. Good for you, you crazy white-ass! Tell us about that supply wagon!”
“I done told you everything I know. Just what I’d overheard Pig Eyes say to the girl in the next room. I reckon the important thing is that the wagon is comin’ through the day after tomorrow. My bet is that we should watch everything goin’ on along the Texas Road real close-like. I figured on gettin’ on over to Charlie Black Bear’s place and give him the information.”
Buck chimed in. “You won’t need to do that. Hell, you found us before you got to his place. We’ll get the information to Watie somehow. Whataya goin’ to do with yourself now?”
I didn’t really have an honest answer. “Hell, I dunno. I damn sure can’t go back to Fort Smith – not now, not ever! I reckon I better get on to Charlie’s and see if I can get some damn sleep. Then I’ll think ’bout what I’m goin’ to do with myself.”
“Well, I’m sending one of our boys with you to make sure you get your stupid ass there without getting it shot off by some Yankee out and about. Me, I’m goin’ to go take a look at your backtrail to make sure you ain’t been followed. If you don’t hear from me by the time you wake up at Charlie’s in the mornin’, then they ain’t comin’ after you, at least not yet.”
It sure was good to see all my friends again, these Choctaw fellers what I’d grown up with. There was a good camaraderie among us, born of growin’ up together, playin’, fightin’, and huntin’ together. I took all their ribbin’ in the fun it was intended. I’d fought side-by-side with some of these here fellers over to Honey Springs, as well as a few other places. There weren’t no doubt among any of us that we wouldn’t risk our lives to help the other – no doubt at all! I counted these men as the truest of friends, truer friends than any white man I ever knew before or since.
I agreed with my good friend ’bout takin’ along an escort the rest of the way to Charlie’s.
Hell, I was too damn tired to disagree. And so, along with a young Choctaw warrior ’bout the same age as me, I made my way to Charlie Black Bear’s. Charlie cussed me some for wakin’ him up in the middle of the night, but he and his wife gladly took me in, especially after I told ’em what I’d just did, breakin’ the news ’bout the Federal supply wagon and all. That bit of news set Charlie to laughin’ real hard and dancin’ a little jig across the dirt floor of their cabin.
They set me up on a nice straw bed where I slept the night away. My last thoughts before fallin’ off to sleep were of them Federals what’d surely be after my ass for borin’ Pig Eyes back there in Fort Smith. I knew my life would never be the same after that little episode, and whilst I was some concerned ‘bout it, I sure didn’t plan on them Yankees ever layin’ their hands on me.
When I woke up the next mornin’, Charlie and his wife, Roselle, had breakfast all fixed. Charlie cut a handsome figure with his coal-black braids hangin’ down past the collar on his white shirt. And his Roselle was sure enough on the pert side with her black eyes and long, black hair. Charlie kept goin’ on and on ’bout how he was so damn glad to see me, and how glad he was that I’d gotten news to the Confederate Choctaws and Chickasaws ‘bout that supply wagon. He kept on shakin’ my hand and goin’ on ’bout how I was one crazy white sonofabitch. I asked him if Big Buck Wright had been by yet that mornin’, and he said that he hadn’t. That was sure good news to my ears, because then I knew them Yankees wasn’t on my trail right yet.
Charlie and his wife were just like a lot of them Choctaws of that day. For Indians, they lived pretty much like white folks do. For one thing, they didn’t dress in their native dress so much as they did in the dress of the white man. They lived in cabins, farmed the land, traveled ’bout on horse-drawn wagons, went to church sometimes, and sent their young-ins off to learn to read and write. I also knew some of them Cherokees to the north of there, and they was the same way, if not more so. I knowed some folks up in the Cherokee Nation what lived in houses as big as any you might see. The Christian missionaries worked real close with the people of the Five Civilized Tribes, and they’d big sway among those folks. Of course, there was some of them Indian folks what chose to stick to their roots a little more.
The first thing Charlie assured me of was that I should lay low, even though I was in the Territory, because them Federals roamed the area quite
a bit. “You can hole up here for a day or so if need be. If we see any sign of those blue-asses, we’ll fix it so they won’t find you. My advice to you is to stay around here for a couple of days, kind of let this thing die down, then light out north for the Cherokee Nation and look up Jesse Youngbird. Tell Jesse I sent you, and he’ll know what to do. Those Cherokee are the best at helping folks on the dodge, and I reckon you’re on the dodge.”
I wasn’t goin’ to argue with Charlie none at all ’bout layin’ low. Ever since Honey Springs, really, them Federals had control of all the territory thereabouts, and one or more of ’em could ride up at any time. I also figured that them Yankee boys, if they was half-ass good trackers, would decipher everything that had happened back there by Pappy’s store. They would notice my horse missin’ from my Pappy’s corral. They would also see my boot prints, along with Red’s hoof tracks, goin’ from the corral to near the spot where Pig Eye’s body lay after I plugged him. I figured them Yankees was pretty stupid, but maybe not so stupid as all that.
My stay with Charlie and Roselle only lasted for a few days. We spent the hours away workin’ around their cabin, enjoyin’ each other’s stories, and eatin’ Roselle’s good grub. Every once in a while, Charlie and me would scout around the place together, makin’ sure no Federals were nearby.
I reckon it were around midnight on the second day that we all woke up to a loud ruckus what was happenin’ outside Charlie’s cabin. We heard a passel of horses pull near, and the muffled voices of men. Right soon, someone commenced to knockin’ on the cabin door. Like a bolt of lightnin’ Charlie and me were on both sides of that door with our pistols at the ready. Roselle stood to the back, with a shotgun near one of the back windows. My heart commenced to beatin’ and the hair on the back of my neck stood up, because I knew these folks were Federals what were gonna haul my ass back to Fort Smith for killin’ Pig Eyes. Deep down, I didn’t understand why a man should have to pay for killin’ a dirty, stinkin’ bastard like him, a card cheat what went ’round sluggin’ women. I didn’t figure that even whores should have to stand for bein’ treated in such a way.
Hawk Eyes Page 3