Eyes of Eagles

Fifteen

Jamie tensed, but forced himself to continue to stare into the eyes of the Cherokee policeman. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Egg began to chuckle. He carefully lowered the hammer on his rifle as the chuckle turned into a deep laugh. He dismounted with that peculiar grace that some big men have and leaned his rifle against the house.

“Man Who Is Not Afraid,” he said, in nearly perfect English. “Is truly not afraid. That is good.” He looked around him and grunted in approval. “You have done well. I thought you would and told Diwali so when I first visited here after you came.” He smiled. “I have been here several times since then. Now, as to the matter which brought me here. I would stay away from those who would try to wrest this land from Mexico.” He shrugged as only a Cherokee can. “But... that is your decision to make. I am here to tell you that you fought bravely and well in the woods north of the trading post owned by Smith and frequented often by Fontaine. Those were bad men who sought you out. They came to do you harm and you did what any warrior would do. That is all I have to say. You might see me again. You might not see me again. I cannot foretell the future. Hello, Moses Washington. Hello, Liza and Sally. Hello, Kate and the babies. Goodbye.”

He picked up his rifle, mounted the huge horse, and without another word, rode out of the clearing and into the timber at the edge of the swamp.

“My word!” was all Kate could say. Then she frowned and looked at Jamie. “What fight in the woods, Jamie?”

“Well . . . Kate . . . ah ... I was going to tell you. I really was.”

Moses stood up quickly. “Time to go, Liza, Sally. We’ve got to be gettin’ back to our cabin.”

“What fight, Jamie Ian?” Kate demanded, sitting down in the chair just vacated by Moses.

Sally put Ellen Kathleen in Jamie’s lap and quickly exited the area with her parents.

“Good luck,” Moses called over his shoulder, as he and family headed for the path that would take them to their cabin. “You’re gonna need it,” he muttered.

“Thanks,” Jamie said.

“Well?” Kate demanded.

Jamie took a deep breath. Sixteen or sixty, he thought, sometimes marriage is tough.

* * *

The summer passed uneventfully, the crops were up and looking good, no one was hurt or fell sick to any terrible illness, other than the babies coming down with the croup, which Jamie treated and eventually healed by the use of plants found in and around the Big Thicket, including coltsfoot and licorice root.

Shortly after his return from the coast, Jamie met the newest family to settle in the Big Thicket area, the runaway slave family from Alabama, Titus and Ophelia Jefferson. And Moses had certainly been correct: two of their three children — the twins, Roscoe and Anne — were white. They had absolutely no negroid features. The twins were four. Wells was about Jamie’s age.

That Titus did not trust Jamie was plain. He hated whites and did not attempt to hide that. He had been a rebellious slave, and had suffered mightily because of it. Jamie shrugged off Titus’s dislike and went his own way. Titus could either accept the help that Jamie freely offered, or he could go to hell. They were all starting over here, and as far as Jamie was concerned, what was past was over and done with.

“He has a right to be bitter,” Robert Washington told Jamie one day, during a break in the hoeing of crops.

“I think I’m going to get very weary of hearing that,” Jamie replied, conscious of the hot look Robert gave him. “My parents were killed by the Shawnee and I was taken prisoner and held as a slave, worked and beaten as much or more as Titus. But I don’t hate all Indians. People who hate will always find some excuse to do that.”

“You’re white. You don’t understand,” Robert said. “Your people weren’t torn from their homeland and brought over here in chains.”

“No,” Jamie replied, remembering some of what his father had told him as a child. “That’s right. My people were just run out of their country because of their religious beliefs. It’s over, Robert. Behind us.”

Robert threw down the hoe and stalked off, his back stiff with anger. They all were working in Moses’s fields that day, and Sally brought out a gourd of water for Jamie. “What’s wrong with Robert?” she asked.

“Oh, he’s angry with me because I won’t beg Titus to take my help.”

“That whole family is trouble,” the young woman said. “All except for Wells.”

Jamie hid his smile, knowing that Sally was sweet on Titus’s oldest son. He drank the cool water and offered no comment. Titus had thrown together a shack a few miles away and had bitterly and with open hostility refused Jamie’s repeated offers of help. Jamie had made up his mind that he would offer no more. He thanked Sally and watched her walk away. She was a good-looking young woman and he expected that she would marry Wells. Wells had quarreled with his father and stormed out of the shack, building — with the help of Moses and Jamie — his own snug and small cabin in the Thicket. Wells was eager to work for Jamie and Moses, and was a fine hand, easygoing, quick to smile and joke, and hard-working.

Jamie finished his row and walked over to Wells, working on the far side of the field with Moses. Moses leaned on his hoe and said, “We might have some trouble comin’ our way, Jamie.”

“How so?”

“Wells told me that his pa’s gone back east. He didn’t know it until this mornin’ when he went over to see his ma. He’s gonna bring back some slave families that’s hidin’ out over ’crost the Sabine.”

“That’s all right with me, Moses,” Jamie said, puzzled at the ex-slave’s attitude.

“You don’t understand, Mr. Jamie,” Wells said. Jamie had tried to get him to stop calling him “Mr. Jamie,” but so far had not succeeded.

“I guess I don’t,” Jamie admitted. “You know I don’t hold with slavery.”

“I know you don’t, Jamie. But the ones Titus has gone to fetch are bad ones, Jamie,” Moses explained. “They’re followers of Nat Turner.”

“Who is Nat Turner?”

“Well,” Moses took off what passed for a hat and scratched his graying head. “I guess I could say he’s just a Virginia slave who wants to be free, but that wouldn’t tell it all. He hates all whites. Maybe with good reason; I don’t know. But if Titus brings those people in here, you and Kate and the babies will be in danger. But that ain’t all. If them runaways come in, the whites will be sure to come after them... then well all be in trouble.”

Jamie leaned on his hoe and thought about that for a moment. “There’s more, right?”

Moses nodded his head. “Some slave owners in Mississippi and Alabama has commissioned a group of men to bring back their slaves. For each runaway slave they bring back alive, they’re payin’ twenty-five cents a pound. You know a good slave sells for five hundred dollars and up.”

“No, I didn’t know that. That’s disgusting. And where are you getting all this information?”

Moses smiled. “You know the Indians travel and bring back stories. Some are true and some aren’t. This one is. Those men who hunt down runaway slaves is under the command of a man named Jackson. And Olmstead has moved down into Southern Louisiana. He’s a slave dealer now, and makin’ a fortune. Jackson’s right-hand men are two sets of brothers, named Saxon and Newby.”

“Oh, shit!” Jamie shouted, throwing down his hoe.

“Yassur, master,” Moses mush-mouthed and rolled his eyes and hung his head and shuffled his feet, a twinkle in his eyes, knowing how Jamie hated it when he joked like that.

“Stop that, Moses,” Jamie said. “That isn’t funny.”

But both Wells and Moses laughed, knowing that Jamie did not understand black slave humor. The mush-mouthing, eye-rolling, head-hanging, and foot-shuffling was one way the slaves could ridicule their white owners and the slave owners couldn’t do a damn thing about it because they didn’t know what was going on.

Jamie shook his head and waited for the men to settle down. When they had sobered, he asked, “And what do you propose doing about this situation?”

It was obvious to Jamie that the men had discussed this more than once, for they exchanged glances several times before Moses finally spoke. “We have to stop them from flooding into this area, Jamie. Not the good, decent slaves who are running for their freedom; but the ones who want to start some sort of black-and-white war.”

“That is a war that the negro will never win, Moses. Not now, not a hundred and fifty years from now. Hear me well, both of you. For I know better than you about such matters. There are, or were, far more Indians than whites east of the Mississippi. Look at them now. You either conform to the white man’s ways, or eventually, the white man will destroy you.” He turned to Wells. “Are you telling me that you would take up arms against your own father?”

“I don’t know that, Jamie. That’s an honest answer. But I do know that he has to be stopped from floodin’ this place with angry, runaway slaves who want only to kill whites.”

“I see. Yes. In other words, you both want me to do your killing for you?”

“Jamie,” Moses said.

“No!” Jamie’s reply was hard. “We’re either in this together, or not at all. I’m not some Hessian mercenary with my gun and sword for hire. Now what say you both?”

Wells looked sick and Moses’s eyes held a haunted look. Jamie knew the turmoil within them must be terrible; Wells because he was faced with taking up arms against flesh and blood, Moses because he was a man of color being forced to decide whether to fight against his own people . . . and he might have to fight his own son, Robert.

Wells was the first to speak. “All right, Mr. Jamie. We ride together.”

Jamie looked at Moses. The older man slowly nodded his head. “I’ll get my guns. Well have to ride out now if we’re to catch Titus in time.”

* * *

Jamie rode to an Alabama encampment and told Putting His Foot Down — second name: Man Who Walks On Water — what was happening. “Fear not for your wife and children, Man Who Is Not Afraid,” the elder told him. “I will dispatch men to go there immediately as guards.”

The Indians all around the Big Thicket country liked Jamie, for he knew their ways, had already learned their language, respected the land, and did not interfere with them in any way. The occasional Comanche and Kiowa war parties were quite another matter. So far, they had not yet discovered Jamie’s home, but he knew it was only a matter of time. And Tall Bull and his hold-out band of warring Shawnee were just north and west of the Big Thicket country.

But for now, the three men rode to intercept Titus Jefferson. Since Moses and Jamie knew the shortcuts, they were at the Sabine crossing several hours before Titus arrived. Titus did not know this country, and he had, a few days before, innocently asked Moses where the best place to cross was. At the time, Moses thought nothing of it. Now, everything fit.

“On the other side,” Jamie said, lowering a spy glass and handing it to Moses. “About a dozen families are waiting. And they have boats.”

The men had left their horses in the brush and crawled up to the bank. Moses peered through the telescoping spy glass and grunted.

“They seem relaxed enough,” he said. “Surely if they made it this far, they have guards out to watch for the slave-hunters. But this is a known crossing.”

Jamie grew thoughtful for a time and Moses sensed it and watched the young man’s face. “Maybe they don’t want to catch them just yet. No, I don’t think they do. I just learned a few weeks ago, from a trapper, that under Mexican law, no slaves are allowed in this territory. But as the whites settle, many want slaves. So in this territory, any negro that got across would have to be called a free negro. Right?”

“I’ve heard that, yes. So?”

“So once across this river, they’d more or less be safe?”

Moses smiled ruefully. “I wouldn’t exactly say safe, but I still don’t see what you’re drivin’ at.”

“Why go to all the trouble of chasing down a few runaway slaves? Why not let them cross the river, get settled, and then fall in on them all in one bunch. If I’ve got my facts straight, the slavers will pay someone a dollar to a dollar and a half a pound for slaves, and then turn right around and resell them for as much as a thousand dollars — right?”

“Well, yes. But the slavers would have to have someone on this side of the river workin’ for them. They...” He closed his eyes and shook his head, silently mouthing the word No!

“Yes,” Jamie said.

Wells put his forehead on the ground and openly wept. “It all fits now,” he sobbed. “The damn escape was too easy. Daddy knew just where to go all the time. We never oncest was even in no danger. Mama said it was the Lord’s will. But I knowed better. I knowed better. I had me a real bad feelin’ all the while.” He put his face in his hands and sobbed.

“Boy,” Moses put a heavy and work-hardened hand on the young man’s shoulders. “Me and Jamie is just talkin’. We ain’t got no proof a-tall that your daddy is up to no good.”

“But he is. I can remember times when he would openly sass the foreman and nothin’ was ever done to him. And times when he was called up to the big house in the middle of the night when he didn’t think none of us was awake. And ever’ time he got whupped, it was done inside the barn and we wouldn’t see him for weeks, sometimes. He was recuperatin’, the boss man, he say. But he wasn’t neither ’cuperatin’. Them whuppin’ was a sham. They never happened. He was workin’ for the man all them times. My own pa is a damn slaver!”

“Wells,” Jamie said. “Your pa never goes without a shirt much, does he?”

“I ain’t seen him without a shirt in years. He say it’s to hide the scars from all the whuppin’s he got. But you see, my daddy, for some years now, was the yard nigger. He kept the grass scythed and lookin’ good and done little odd jobs around the big house. He never worked in the fields or loggin’ or nothin’ real heavy.”

“Would he take trips with the boss man?” Jamie asked.

“You bet he did!” Wells wiped his eyes with a ragged shirt sleeve. “And he never objected when the master wanted to bed down mama. The twins belong to the master. They look just like him. Mama is real pretty and bright yeller, but she’s not very smart. Ever’ time the master would call for her to come to the barn, or down to the crick, she’d just say it was God’s will.”

Jamie shook his head and balled his big hands into fists, as a feeling of disgust and loathing filled him. He despised everything about slavery, and most especially the people who dealt in it. And that included some fairly prominent people of the time. Being one of the few whites who had been on the wrong side of slavery, forced servitude was something that Jamie would never view as acceptable.

“I’ll go sit by the trail,” Moses said. “Titus has got to come this way... it’s the only way he can come. He should be along at any time.”

When Moses was gone, Wells asked, “What about them people over there on the other bank, Mr. Jamie?”

“I don’t know. But now that we think we know the truth about this, I can’t believe those people are followers of some rebellious person who wants to start a war. I think they’re just people who want out of slavery. No one can blame them for that.”

“If that’s so, are we going to help them?”

“I’m not going to try to stop them,” was Jamie’s reply. “But I am going to tell them the truth... as we think it is.”

“And my daddy?”

Jamie hesitated. “We’ll deal with that as we come to it.”

That time was now, for Moses called out, “Here he comes. He’ll be here in a couple of minutes.”

“Come on,” Jamie said. “Let’s see if we can’t handle this without killing.” The two of them began slipping back away from the bank of the river and into the thick brush.

Jamie, Moses, and Wells were waiting as Titus reined up, total surprise on his face. Then surprise turned to raw hatred mixed with fear. He said nothing as he dismounted from his mule; just stood facing them. He carried a rifle and had a pistol in his waistband, but he made no move to raise the rifle or grab for the pistol.

“The game’s over, Titus,” Jamie said. “And a dirty game it was.”

Titus said nothing in his defense. He did not ask how the three had learned of his plans; did not protest his innocence. He just stood silently beside his mule.

“Say it ain’t the truth, daddy,” Wells begged. “Tell me we’re wrong. Tell us you ain’t workin’ for the man as a slaver. Tell me, goddamn you!”

But Titus would only shake his head.

“Why, Titus?” Moses asked. “You a slave, man. Why for you help bury your own kind back into that kind of life? Why for you help them escape and then resell them? Tell me!”

“Freedom,” Titus finally spoke. “The man tell me that I can be free if I do this thing. He say he give me my freedom papers if I can get together a couple hundred niggers in one spot for sellin’ in this territory.” He looked at his son. “You stupid just like your mama. Both of you ignorant. She ain’t good but for one thing and I ain’t never figured out what you good for. You ain’t nothing but an ignorant swamp nigger and that’s all you ever be.”

“Take off your shirt,” Jamie ordered.

“What?” Titus looked startled.

Jamie lifted and cocked his pistol. “Take off your shirt or I’ll cripple you right here and now. I’ll blow your knee apart and leave you to die. Take off your shirt and turn around. I want to see something.”

Hatred and fear mingling on his face, Titus laid his rifle on the ground and then slowly pulled off his shirt and turned around. There was not one whip scar on his broad back.

Jamie grunted.

Wells took a ragged breath and cursed his father until he could not think of another thing to call him.

Moses was trembling with rage.

Titus took it all stoically, standing with his shirt in one hand. Jamie walked to him and took his pistol, picking up his rifle and then backing away.

“What you gonna do wit’ me?” Titus asked.

“I don’t know yet. Put your shirt back on,” Jamie said wearily. “And tell us the whole story.”

It was as they had guessed. Olmstead and Jackson were involved, as were the Saxon and Newby brothers, along with some prominent people in and around the New Orleans area. “They know you in here somewheres, you smart-ass white boy,” Titus sneered at Jamie, after telling his dirty story of betrayal and deceit against his own people.

“Because you told them,” Jamie said.

“Yeah. I did that.”

“And they promised you what?”

“Your wife.”

Jamie felt a coldness take him. He fought it away. “Tie him up, Moses. Good and tight.”

Wells looked at Jamie. “What are you going to do, Mr. Jamie?”

“Get those people on the other side across to safety. After that, I don’t know what in the hell I’m going to do.”