Adam stared at him in disbelief, still unsure of what the man meant to do. “How am I to get my vengeance?”
The lieutenant removed his canteen and opened it, pouring water on top of Adam’s head and splashing it into his face. “You settle down and I just might bring you some food and water later tonight,” he said loudly. “If not, you can go hungry and thirsty and rot right here on this pole!” He recapped the canteen. “Douglas Means is camped hardly more than a mile from here,” he went on in a lower voice. “Just over that low ridge to your left. Means is a captain now. His tent is bigger than the others, with a Georgia state flag perched on top of it. As far as I could tell he sleeps alone. You’ll have to be strong enough to do the deed tonight after dark. I hope you are. It’s your last chance. He’s moving on tomorrow. I can’t furnish you with anything other than a knife—no gun. And if you can get to him it must be done quietly. I’ll let you go after dark. If you get back here before morning, I’ll recuff you and swear you were here all night. If you don’t make it back, I won’t cover for you, understand? You’ll be on your own. But I need your promise that you’ll not get me involved. I’m told the word of a Cherokee can be trusted, and you’re supposed to be one of the most important Cherokees, right up there with John Ross.”
“I…don’t know what to say.” Adam trembled with joy and relief, and with the excitement of knowing he had a chance to avenge the wrongs done to his family. “Of course you have my word. But I…I don’t even know your name.”
“Renfro. Martin Renfro. I’m from Missouri.” He mounted his horse, looking down at Adam. “There are some men on this earth who do not deserve to live. Douglas Means is one of them. I may not be able to stop what is happening to the Cherokee, but I can stop men like Means from making it worse. I’d do it with my own hands, but I’m a federal soldier and we are not at war with the Georgia Militia. I’d never get away with it. Besides, Georgia is already screaming that the federal government has no right to send in men. I’ll be back later tonight. You just go along with anything I do in the morning, and act surprised when the Militia ride in here yelling that one of their own was killed. At least I hope that’s what they’ll be saying.” He turned his horse and trotted it toward the prison camp.
Adam watched him go, then sat back and looked up at the sky. “You have answered my prayers, Maker of Breath,” he whispered. “You have sent one of your servants to help me. Thank you, Esaugetuh Emissee.” He swallowed back tears. He must not think of Andrea—not yet. He must think only of vengeance. He must be strong. His body was weakened from the grueling beatings and the mistreatment he’d received since that awful moment when Douglas Means had burst into their bedroom. That seemed like days ago now, but it had been only this morning. How could one day bring so much change to a man’s life? Poor Andrea! How he longed to go to her. But the lieutenant was right. People must see him cuffed. If he was still there in the morning…He actually grinned.
“This will be a good day after all,” he whispered. Douglas Means! He must think only of Douglas Means now, of how much he hated the man, of how good it would feel to sink a knife into him and watch him gasp for breath. He would have to be very careful not to get caught. It occurred to him that this might be some sort of trick to get him hung and out of the way, but something in the lieutenant’s eyes bespoke sincerity. He knew that what was happening was not the fault of individuals like Martin Renfro. It was all due to politics and power pulls, to outside factors that often affected people like the lieutenant as drastically as it affected the Indians. The man was doing his job, but found it distasteful. It was his appointed duty, nonetheless.
Adam curled up against the post to rest. He needed all the strength he could muster. In his condition it would not be easy wrestling down Douglas Means. He must have a plan. He would force himself not to think about Andrea right now, except for the horrible wrong that had been done her. It ripped his heart to pieces to think of her being abused, but that was good fuel for the fires of vengeance. And he dared not think about going to her then, holding her, comforting her. There would be time for that. For now there was only time to hate, to think about his wife being wronged. His need for vengeance would give him the strength to do what he must.
Mosquitoes buzzed around Adam’s ears and eyes in the still night, and he felt crazed with the need to see Andrea and the need to kill Douglas Means. Now he wondered if the lieutenant would keep his promise about giving him the chance for revenge. His arms ached from being chained over his head, and a cracked rib brought continued piercing pain to his side. His face was so bruised he was more black than brown. But his emotional pain far outweighed his physical pain. There would be time later to give in to the effects of the physical abuse. Now someone must pay. He prayed over and over that Lieutenant Renfro had meant what he’d said. But the moon was rising, and the time was at hand.
Finally he saw someone approach, carrying a lantern. The sounds of the night were strange now, for Adam and others had been thrown into a state of shock by their sudden transportation to this hot place, a spot deliberately chosen because it had few trees. He could hear soft weeping from inside the prison camp, mixed with waves of hymn singing. But there was no wind, and for some reason, not even the sound of singing insects, only the buzzing of mosquitoes that bit at him. His guard sat close by, almost asleep, as approaching boots made a crunching sound against the dry earth.
“Simmons!” It was the lieutenant’s voice. Adam’s guard jumped awake and stood up to salute.
“Yes, sir.”
“Is that how you guard prisoners?”
“I…he’s chained, sir…and just one man—”
“One or a dozen, you stay awake when you’re guarding them!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go on back to your bedroll if you’re so tired. And you’ll answer for this.”
“Y-yes, sir. Shall I send out another man?”
“Forget it. I can’t sleep anyway, what with all that wailing and hymn singing. Those Indians sure have religion.” He glanced at Adam. “Which is more than I can say for this devil sitting here.”
“He’s been pretty quiet, sir.”
“That’s when you watch them the closest. Go on back now.”
The private saluted and hurried off, and Renfro set the lantern down, keeping it distant enough so that Adam was not in the light. He waited until the private was well out of sight, then moved over to where Adam sat in the darkness.
“I hope to hell you understand the chance I’m taking,” he said quietly. He felt for the locks on Adam’s chains, slid a key into them.
“I do. I will be forever in your debt.”
“Well, I am forever in yours if you keep my name out of it, Chandler,” the lieutenant replied quietly.
Adam’s hands dropped down when the cuffs were loosened, and he grimaced with pain. The lieutenant quickly began to rub Adam’s hands vigorously, to bring the life back into them.
“You’re in bad shape, but I’m figuring your desire for revenge will give you what strength you need.” He felt inside his jacket and then pushed something into Adam’s palm. Adam recognized the feel of a good, balanced knife. “This thing has a hell of a blade on it. Use it well, my friend. It’s the best I can do for you. Tomorrow, if you make it back, I’ll see that you get a clean shirt and some kind of shoes.” He took hold of Adam’s shoulder and helped him to stand. Adam faced him in the moonlight, sliding the knife into his belt and then rubbing one arm with the other.
“How do you know I will even come back? Perhaps I will run away.”
He could see the lieutenant’s grin. “And leave your abused wife and little sons behind? I doubt Adam Chandler would do that.”
Adam swallowed back the lump in his throat. “Of course I would not. I am just surprised that you trust me.”
“I’ve heard enough about you to trust you. You and that John Ross and some others handled your struggle brilliantly. As far as I’m concerned you were right all the way down th
e line. A lot of people feel that way. But there is a lot of power involved in politics. Now get going. I figure a half-hour to forty-five minutes to get there in your condition. Once you’re over that far ridge, you’ll see the lights of their camp. Means’ tent is near the foot of the ridge. Look for the Georgia flag. And make it quick. I figure you’ll be gone three hours and be back here before dawn breaks.” He squeezed Adam’s shoulder. “Good luck, Chandler.”
Adam put a hand over Renfro’s. “You are a gift from the Maker of Breath. I honor you, Lieutenant Renfro.”
“Just get going.”
Adam nodded and hurried off into the darkness, limping on badly bruised and swollen feet. The doctor’s promise to bring something for his feet had not been kept. But it didn’t matter. There were more important things to tend to than his painful feet.
One thing Adam Chandler knew was the land he’d lived in all his life. He had ridden through these mountains and valleys, walked them, loved them. This particular place where they had been brought to be held for departure was not totally unfamiliar to him, and almost like an animal he made his way through underbrush and over rocks, quietly, a stealthy cat on the prowl. His eyes adjusted to the moonlight, and his heart beat with frantic excitement. Douglas Means! The man had raped his sister, had had his mother whipped. He had raped his wife. The thought brought a horrible black pain to his heart and he suddenly felt weak. Andrea! Poor sweet Andrea! No! He must not weaken. He must get this done. There would be time later for all the healing.
He scrambled up the ridge and grinned when he saw the lights below. Renfro was right. The man had not lied. Adam headed down under the cover of darkness, toward the largest tent. A light still burned inside it, but the entire camp was quiet. Adam crept closer. He could not go inside until Douglas blew out the lamp, or his shadow would be seen. But he had to be sure that when he struck Douglas would be killed and not someone else.
He stayed in the shadows then, setting his knife aside and removing his pants. He was naked then, for there had not even been time that morning to put on underwear, and he was still shirtless. If this deed was to be done with a knife, there would be blood, and he didn’t want any on his clothes. He’d have to wash off before dressing again so that no blood would be on him when he returned to camp and was found sitting at the post in the morning. He laid his pants aside and picked up the knife, wriggled on his belly toward the back of the tent, slithered right up to the edge of it.
The back of the tent was in darkness, and no one saw him. Very carefully Adam lifted the bottom of the tent wall, just a crack. He lowered his head down to peer inside, and then trembled at the sight of Douglas Means, sitting at a makeshift desk and writing something. Means was clad only in his underwear, for the night was hot and humid. Suddenly he called out to one of his men, and someone entered. Adam quickly lowered the hem of the tent.
“Get this letter off to my folks. They’re not far away, but they don’t even know I’m in the area. I want them to know I’ll be by to see them as soon as we’ve rounded up the last of these bastards.”
“Yes, sir.” There was a moment of silence. “What happened to the white woman, sir? I thought you were going to keep—”
“Some son-of-a-bitching Federal came in here and took her. I decided not to argue about it. I had my fun with the slut before they got here anyway.”
“She was a pretty one. We were hoping to get a share of her.”
“Well, you can’t have everything, Sloan.”
Both men laughed, and Adam trembled with rage. Andrea! He moved back into the shadows, struggling to control his urge to cry out his anger. There was more conversation, and the second man finally left. Then Adam sat and waited. It seemed hours rather than minutes before the lamp finally went out. Still Adam waited. He would let Douglas Means drift off.
An owl hooted somewhere, and mosquitoes buzzed at his bare skin. In the distance the men seated around a campfire laughed. That was good. Their attention was distracted by whiskey. Adam waited nearly an hour before moving in. Then he quietly cut the rope that was tied to a stake at the center of the back wall of the tent. It was not a supporting stake, only one that made the wall stiffer. He grinned at the ease with which the knife cut through the rope. Renfro had given him a good weapon.
His every move was made with almost total silence. The Indian in him came to the forefront, ancient warrior ways taking over. He had never killed before, but there was a first time for everything and he would not regret this. He slithered under the tent wall, now loosened enough to be raised to let him through. Douglas snored peacefully as Adam lay on the ground and let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the tent until he could make out the cot and the body on it. Finally he crawled toward the cot, realizing that the first blow would have to be one that kept Douglas Means from crying out. His thirst for vengeance made him crave to make the man suffer. He remembered the vow he had made to Douglas Means the night the man had ridden in to break up the Cherokee celebration dance. He would keep that vow tonight.
Adam stood up then, feeling brave and sure. He looked down at Douglas’s sleeping body and wondered how a man who had done such hideous things could sleep so well at night. Now he would sleep forever. He leaned close and clamped a big hand over Douglas’s nose and mouth. “Wake up, my friend!” he whispered.
Douglas awakened instantly, at first confused and unable to breathe. In the next moment, before he could cry out, a big blade was rammed into his Adam’s apple and upward, cutting the vocal cords but not cutting a vital artery. In the dim light Adam could see the man’s mouth open, but no sound came out. Something dark ran over his throat, and Adam knew it was blood. His satisfaction had never been sweeter. Douglas reached up to him as though to fight him off, but Adam rammed the blade again, once into each shoulder, quickly, deliberately, bringing horrible pain, but Douglas could not scream. The man’s arms went limp, and Adam leaned close to him.
“You made a bad decision when you raped my wife, Douglas Means,” he hissed into Douglas’s ear. “I warned you not to touch her. I told you once what would happen, didn’t I? Do you remember what I told you, Douglas Means?”
Means’s body began to shake violently. His eyes were so wide that Adam could see the whites of them. He grinned. “Yes, Douglas. I told you you would cry out with the pain of it, but that you would not be able to scream, because your own privates would be stuffed into your mouth. I do not break my promises, Douglas. You should have remembered. I am a man of my word.”
An odd gurgling sound came from Douglas’s throat, not loud enough to alert the laughing, joking men outside. Adam ran his knife through the man’s underwear and a moment later the deed was done. He held up his prize for a moment then shoved hard. Never had he known such a feeling of victory and pleasure. Finally! Finally he could settle something according to the old ways! How wonderful it must have felt to be a warrior!
“I told you you would choke to death on these, you slimy white scum!” He waited a moment, not caring that every minute was risky. He wanted to see the pain and terror in Douglas Means’s eyes, wanted him to stay alive and suffer as long as possible. After several minutes of watching him shake violently, Adam raised his knife and drove it into Douglas’s heart. Blood raced out, some splashing onto Adam’s arm. His hands were already covered with its warmth, but he didn’t even care. He wanted to bathe in it. He yanked out the knife then. Douglas Means lay silent—forever.
Adam quickly felt his way to the barrel of water he’d seen inside the tent when he’d peeked into the tent earlier. He dipped the knife into it, then set it aside and dipped in his hands, washing his arms and face and chest. He quickly wiped himself off with a blanket, picked up the knife, and scurried out under the black wall of the tent. He searched for his pants, found them, and disappeared into the night.
He ran hard then. He had crossed a shallow creek on the way to the militia camp. He found it again and jumped into it, wallowing in the water. To get off any blood that might be on him,
he rubbed sand over his face and body and through his hair, then rinsed and rinsed. That done, he picked up his pants again and ran on. He had been gone more than the three hours allotted, he was sure. He had not expected Means to take so long to turn out the lamp and go to sleep. But it was still very dark.
He wanted to leap with joy. The feeling of victory, the taste of revenge, was the most glorious thing he had ever experienced. Finally he had been allowed to fight back!
He slowed down when he neared the post. Someone still sat by it and the lantern was still lit. He snuck closer, wanting to be sure the man was Renfro. When he saw that it was he walked to the post, which was still in shadow.
“I am back,” he said quietly.
Renfro jumped slightly, but forced himself not to make any sudden movements. He got up slowly and walked into the shadows.
“Did you do it?”
“I did. I am a happy man this night, in spite of the terrible things that happened this day. I will be grateful to you for the rest of my life.”
“Sit down and I’ll cuff you. I know it hurts and I hate to do it, but I’ll let you loose later tomorrow and you can go to your wife.”
Adam reached out and felt for the man’s hand, then put the knife into it. “Here. Hide this. When you get it in the light, make sure there is no blood on it. I washed myself in a stream, and the air dried me as I ran back. I have to put my pants back on. I took them off so I would not get blood on them.”
“A good idea.” The soldier’s hand brushed the still-damp gauze around Adam’s injured ribs. “What about this? There may be blood on this gauze.”
Heart's Surrender Page 37