Around the River's Bend (15 page)

“All passengers prepare to go ashore!”

Sabrina heard the loud voice of the bosun and straightened up. She kept her grip on the rail, however, and in that instant the fears of what lay before her rose again within her breast. During the voyage she had successfully pushed them away, covered them up with the activities of the ship, and had spent many hours reading. But now all that had changed. The swarming dock that lay before her was as alien to her as if it had been China or India. Now, once again, the feeling came to her that the wisest thing she could do was to stay on this ship and sail back to England as quickly as possible.

“Well, here's your new home.” The voice came from directly behind her, and Sabrina turned to see Mr. Stern smiling at her. He waved his arm and said, “It's a big country, Miss Fairfax.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You'll find your place in it, I'm sure,” Stern added. “But if you don't, you can always go back home again.”

“I doubt that. This will have to be my home, Mr. Stern.”

Stern had learned enough of Sabrina's history to feel sympathy. “Yes. Well, if that's the case, you'll make out.” He had taken off his hat, and the warm April wind tumbled his hair over his forehead. He brushed it back and shook his head. “I hate to see you headed out for that raw wilderness, but I know it's something you have to do.”

“Yes, it is.”

He put his hand out, and she took it and felt the strength of it. “I will think of you often,” he said quietly.

“And I of you. You've been kind.”

When Stern turned away, calling out orders sharply to the deckhands, Sabrina felt she had lost something. He was only a chance acquaintance, but she had valued his kindness and consideration during the voyage, and now she wished futilely that he were going with her. She went searching for Sion and found him carrying her baggage from the hold up to the deck.

“I'll get your trunk, miss,” he said. “You'd better watch this baggage. Some of these Americans may be thieves.”

“I expect they are. Some of them, at least.”

Sion suddenly smiled at her and winked almost merrily. “Just like Welshmen. Some good, some bad—Englishmen, too, I expect. I'll get the trunk.”

———

Sabrina stood with Sion in the midst of the busy crowd holding the cage that contained Ulysses. The luggage made a small mound, and she looked around uncertainly. “I expect I'd better go try to find out something about the legal side of this land,” she said.

“Maybe I'd better stay here with the luggage.”

“No, let's get a carriage.”

Sion looked around and saw a line of carriages. He went quickly and spoke to the driver in the first one—a tall, lean man with a sour expression on his face and a huge wad of tobacco bulging in his jaw.

“Good day, sir. We need to rent your carriage.”

Before he turned to acknowledge Sion, he spat an amber stream that almost hit Sion's feet. “That's what I'm here fer. Where you goin'?”

“My mistress will give you instructions. Perhaps you could give me a hand with the luggage.”

“Reckon I kin.” The lanky driver stepped down and towered over Sion. He seemed to be all arms and legs, and the clothes he wore would have disgraced a beggar back in England.

Sion led him to the baggage and said, “This man will take us anywhere you please, Miss Sabrina.”

“I need to go to the courthouse.”

“Yep.”

With this curt monosyllable the man began gathering up the bags. Sion shouldered the trunk, and Sabrina followed them to the carriage. After they were loaded, she waited for the driver to help her in, but he simply hauled himself aboard, picked up the lines, and spat again.

“Here, let me help you on,” Sion said quickly. He took Sabrina's hand, put her in the backseat of the carriage, then leaped into the front seat. “I think we're ready now.”

“Yep.”

The driver, having started the horses forward, turned and said, “Reckon you be English.”

“Aye, the lady is. I'm from Wales.”

“Where's that?”

“It's a part of Great Britain—next to England.”

“I fought in the war against you 'uns.”

“Did you, now?”

“Yep. I kept count of the lobsterbacks I kilt. Up to seventeen and then I lost count. Reckon I must have got more'n twenty of you 'uns. Was you in that war?”

“No, I wasn't.”

“Thet's good.”

Sabrina, sitting in the back, listened as the driver spoke, alternately voicing his disapprobation of anyone from “across the water,” as he put it, and spitting tobacco juice. She was disappointed in her first contact in America, but realistically she understood that this was the counterpart of a lower-class cockney from London. And Stern had prepared her to some extent for the crudeness of Americans.

“There it is,” the driver said, pulling the horses up and waving a long arm toward a two-story brick building with a cupola on top. “You want me to wait?”

Sabrina hesitated, then said, “I don't know how long I'll be.”

“Well, I gotta make a livin'.”

The driver did not get down, so Sion leaped to the ground, assisted Sabrina, then unloaded the trunk and the baggage, placing them next to the building while Sabrina negotiated the fare. There was some discussion about English money, and when she came back, she said, “I'll have to get my money changed to American. I have no idea whether I overpaid him or not.”

“Probably did,” Sion nodded. “You go right ahead, Miss Sabrina. I'll see that no one bothers the luggage.”

Sabrina entered the courthouse and stood uncertainly in the corridor. Two men walking down the hall looked at her curiously, and she realized that she was probably overdressed. She had on a dark green traveling dress with matching jacket. The dress fit tightly over the bodice, had a high neckline edged with black ribbon, and cinched in at the waist. The full skirt just touched the floor. The midthigh-length long-sleeved jacket fit snugly at the waist, buttoned up the front with large black buttons, and had a large collar edged with black ribbon.

One of the men came over and said, “How do? You lookin' for anybody special?”

“Yes. I need someone who can tell me about a title to some land.”

“Reckon you'll need to talk to Dwight.”

“Dwight?”

“Yes. Dwight Camrose. He's in the last office down the hall to the right.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Right welcome, miss.”

Sabrina felt the eyes of the two men follow her as she walked down the rather dirty corridor. When she stepped inside the door indicated by the man, she found herself in an outer office with several chairs and a long counter. A clerk was standing behind the counter smoking a pipe, and he greeted her.

“Yes, miss. Can I help you?”

“I need to see Mr. Camrose.”

“About what?”

“It concerns a title to some land.”

“Have a seat over there, miss. He'll be with you directly.”

“Thank you.”

Sabrina took her seat and waited, but the “directly” turned out to be much longer than she had anticipated. Finally a man came out of the office, puffing furiously on a cigar and pulling a straw hat down to his ears. As soon as he left, the clerk nodded at Sabrina.

“I reckon you can go in now, miss.”

“Thank you.”

Sabrina entered the office and found a short, rotund man wearing a snuff-brown suit standing by a large map, making some sort of insignia on it. He did not turn around for a time so she stood until finally he put down his pen and turned to face her. “Well, what can I do for you, miss?”

“My name is Miss Sabrina Fairfax. I've just arrived from England, and I need some information about some land that I own in—” and here she consulted her deed—“the Territory of the United States South of the River Ohio.”

“Well, you're in the wrong place for that.”

“I know, but I thought you might give me some help on the procedures.”

Camrose pulled a plug of tobacco out of his pocket. He bit off an enormous bite, tucked it into his jaw, and said, “I guess maybe I can do that, but I can tell you right now you're going to have to go to where the land's at to make sure.”

“I inherited the land, and I'm not even sure exactly where it is.”

“Let me see that title.”

Sabrina handed her papers over to Camrose and watched as he studied them.

“If you'll step over here, I'll be glad to show you where this here piece is at.” He stepped to the wall, and Sabrina moved closer. The map she saw was so filled with lines and names it confused her, but Camrose clarified the matter at once. “Your claim is here,” he said, touching the map with his forefinger. “It's close to a settlement called Holston.”

“I've been somewhat concerned, Mr. Camrose, about the legality of this title.”

“Well might you be, Miss Fairfax. You're not the only one. The trouble is the titles have been passed around so much it's hard to tell anymore. Of course, the Indians lived on it once, and they got a claim. North Carolina owned it at one time. They got a claim. There was a brute who tried to start a new state called Franklin. He claimed the land. And now the government of the United States has a claim. You'll just have to head for this property and get yourself a good lawyer.”

“Can you tell me anything at all about what this property is like?”

“No, miss, I can't. It might be cleared. It might be nothin' but trees and mountains. The only way to tell is to go. I can tell you one thing, though. The title may be good, but Indians can't read titles very good. It's too dangerous for you, if you want my opinion.”

“I have to go there,” Sabrina said simply. “I don't have anyplace else to go.”

“Then get yourself a good lawyer and let him nail this title down for you. You're from England, I take it?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

“I can tell you're used to the better things in life,” Camrose said, squinting at her. He spat juice expertly into a brass spittoon and did not bother to wipe his mouth. The amber fluid stained the corners and ran down slightly, adding to the residue already there. “It's a big country, miss, and wild. I wouldn't advise you to go there unless you have to.”

“Well, I have to. Do you know any lawyers in that area whom you might recommend?”

“No, miss, I don't. Sorry about that. But there's plenty of lawyers there like there is everywhere else. Just be sure you get a good 'un.”

Sabrina nodded and turned, saying, “Thank you very much, Mr. Camrose.”

“Watch out for your scalp, lady.”

Sabrina nodded at his advice and left the office. When she got outside, she found Sion in a conversation with a man, and the two turned to her.

“Sion, we'll have to find someplace to stay tonight.”

“This is Mr. Sam Satterfield, miss. He knows this town very well. Do you want to go to an inn?”

“Yes,” Sabrina replied firmly. “Hurry up and load the luggage. I'm tired.”

Sion and the driver quickly loaded the baggage, and Satterfield said, “Bossy, ain't she?”

“I suppose she is.”

“You're not married to that filly, are ya?”

“Not likely.” Sion grinned.

Sion went to help Sabrina into the carriage and then got into the front seat next to the driver.

“You want a fine place or a cheap place?”

“We'll only be staying one night, I think,” Sabrina answered, “and it shouldn't be too expensive.”

“I've got a cousin who runs a place. It ain't the finest in the world, but it's clean and only two dollars a night, including breakfast in the mornin'.”

“That will be fine,” Sabrina said. She leaned back and watched the stream of people as the carriage made its way down the street. She was thinking of what Camrose had said, and it discouraged her. Her thoughts were interrupted with Satterfield's description of the Tennessee Country, as the driver said some folks called it.

“It's thick as fleas with Indians. That's what I hear. I was in General Washington's army from Bunker Hill clear up to Yorktown. We seen some rough days from you English soldiers, but I don't reckon I'd want to tangle with them redskins. From what I hear, they'll skin a man just for fun after they catch him.”

“Literally?” Sion asked.

“Of course I mean literally! Take the skin right off the meat.”

Sion continued to question the man until they pulled up in front of a plain building. “I'll go in and make sure my cousin has a room available,” Satterfield said.

When the driver was gone, Sion turned and asked, “Did you find out anything, miss, about the place we're going to?”

“Not much. We're going to have to go there, Sion.” She hesitated, then said, “I can't afford two rooms. You understand that.”

“Don't worry about it. I'll find a place.”

Satterfield returned to the carriage. “You're all set. Here, lady, I'll help you down.”

As Sabrina stepped down, she felt the hardness of the man's hands and his curious eyes upon her as well. She waited until the two men had unloaded the baggage and started for the building. She followed them carrying the wicker cage. Once inside she was introduced to Satterfield's cousin, whose name was Fredrickson. He was a small, decently dressed man with clean white hair. He spoke in a different manner than the two drivers she had spoken with, and she wondered if he came from a different part of the Colonies.

“Just one room, Miss Fairfax?”

“Yes, I don't know how long we'll be staying. Probably only one night. We need to get a coach to Tennessee.”

“I can take care of that for you, miss,” Satterfield said, putting down the luggage. “I've got another cousin who drives the stagecoach.”

“That would be very kind of you.”