Eyes of Eagles (16 page)

“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.”

The large group of runaway slaves, men, women, and children from babies to teenagers, made the crossing without incident, even though this area was infested with huge alligators. Perhaps the 'gators weren't hungry this day. Perhaps God took a hand in reshaping the so-far shattered lives of the slaves. To a person, they were scared, hungry, and ragged. Safely across, Jamie moved them back into the thicket about half a mile and then lined them up, telling them of Titus's treachery.

“I can't tell you what to do,” he told them. “But if you try to settle in or around the Big Thicket, most of you will eventually be rounded up and sold back into slavery. If you go west, you're going to hit Kiowa and Comanche and Apache. I don't know what to tell you to do.”

“You just a boy,” an older woman said. “You that MacCallister boy, ain't you?”

“Yes.”

“You got quite a reputation,” a man said. “They's big reward monies on your head. White folks say you kilt a hundred men.”

“They lie. But I have killed in defense of my life. And I will again if I have to. But I'm not your problem.”

“I heard about a black settlement up north,” Moses said. “Along the Sulphur. It may just be talk. I don't know. Maybe you folks could try for there.”

“Are you goin' to try to keep us from settlin' in the Thicket?” a man asked Jamie.

Jamie shook his head. “No. I don't have the right to do that. But if you do, you'd be wise to break up into tiny groups and spread out over several hundred miles.”

“No,” an older man said. “We come this far together, and we're stayin' together. But you been good to us, so I'll promise that we won't settle nowheres near you.”

“He's gettin' away!” a woman screamed. “And they's someone with him.”

Moses lifted his rifle, then lowered it. He could not bring himself to shoot his own son, Robert. Robert and Titus leaped their horse and mule toward the river.

Jamie stood and watched them vanish in the brush and trees. He could not outrun a horse and a mule on foot, and his own horse was grazing several hundred yards away, unsaddled, unbridled, and picketed. He turned to Moses. “It would have done no good to just shoot one of them, Moses. And Robert was an uncertain target at best.”

“No, Jamie. I could have shot him. And probably will some day. But not this day. And my not shootin' him will cause us grief.”

“Maybe. But I have another question. Do you think your son was in on this with Titus?”

Moses slowly nodded his head. Jamie felt the man had aged ten years in as many minutes. “Yes, Jamie. I do. And it breaks my heart to have to say that.” He turned to the band of runaway slaves and gave one man Titus's rifle and another his pistol and belt knife. “Split up the powder and shot. They's game a-boundin' all around you. Now you're on your own. But I say this to you: Don't settle within fifty miles of us. Go north, or go south, but stay away from the center of the Thicket.”

“How will we know?” a man asked.

“The Indians will tell you,” Jamie spoke. He squatted down. “Look here.” With a stick, he drew a map of the Big Thicket. “There is plenty of room up here, or down there. It runs several hundred miles. All through it, there are clearings where gardens can be planted. You have axes and shovels,” He stood up. “You're free now. I hope you stay free. Good luck.”

He stood with Moses and Wells and watched the weary and ragged band of runaway slaves vanish into the timber. And it almost broke his heart to see them go. For he knew they were heading into a vast and hostile unknown where at best probably half of them would survive the year. Swamp fever would claim some. Others would die of snakebite or a slow suffocation in quicksand. A few would fill the bellies of 'gators. Several would drown in the black waters. They would be hunted relentlessly by the Saxon and Newby brothers and their gangs. Some would be caught and resold back into the degradation of slavery.

“But the best and the strongest and the smartest will survive,” Jamie said aloud. “May God have mercy on the others. And may God forgive me for not helping them more than I did.”

“You had no choice in the matter, Mr. Jamie,” Wells said. “It's our survival we're talkin' 'bout, too.”

“I wonder why that doesn't make me feel any better,” Jamie replied.

* * *

The second winter in the Big Thicket brought change. Wells and Sally were married in the fall and took in the twins, Roscoe and Anne, to raise. That was after Wells went back to his mother's shack to see about her and the twins and found them playing alone in the dirt of the front yard. They were filthy and hungry. Angry, he stormed into the shack and found his mother hanging by a rope from a beam. She left no note, because she could not read or write. She had been dead several hours. Wells grabbed up the kids and rode immediately to Jamie and Kate.

While Kate and Sally and Liza stayed in the cabin with Jed, too — he was still a little young to witness this — the men rode to the Wells's cabin and Jamie cut Ophelia down, slowly lowering the body to the carefully swept dirt floor.

“We should have brought one of the women,” he said. “We'll have one of them find her best dress to be buried in.”

“That was her best dress,” Wells said, his voice husky. “Liza gave it to her when we first some here. Cover up her face, Mr. Jamie, would you please? I can't abide lookin' at her all swole up like that.” He walked outside to stand under a tree and weep.

Moses found a tattered blanket that he recognized as having been one of his own, and carefully and as gently as he could, wrapped the woman in it while Jamie fetched a shovel and walked over to Wells.

“Where do you want her buried, Wells?”

“I ain't give that no thought, Mr. Jamie.”

“Well, me and Moses picked out a nice place over between our cabins to use when the time came, and it always does. How about over there?”

“That'd be mighty fine.”

“Look, you go on back to my place and stay there. Me and Moses will get things ready. In about an hour, send Jed over and we'll run him back to tell you when we're ready.”

Wells nodded and mounted up. He looked back once. “Tomorrow, I'm comin' over here with a mule and tearin' this shack down. I don't want nothin' left.”

“Whatever you say, Wells.” Personally, Jamie thought that to be a good idea. Let it return to weeds and vines. He knew that Titus had about as much sense of direction as a lost calf. He'd gotten lost a dozen times just traveling over to Jamie's or Moses's place. If this place was not standing as a landmark, and the paths would grow over quickly, odds were good that Titus would not be able to find his. At least that was a small hope, for both Jamie and Moses knew the evil man would return... someday.

Moses held the women in his arms on the ride over to the spot that would be the last resting place for the dead. Jamie rode ahead and was already digging when the older man arrived. Jed soon came over and stared at the blanket-covered body.

“Go pick some berries, boy,” his daddy told him.

“Ain't got nothin' to put 'em in.”

“You got a hat on your nappy head, ain't you?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Move!”

“I'd rather him gather up rocks for the grave, Moses,” Jamie said.

Moses struck his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Why didn't I think of that? The boy was makin' me nervous just standin' there. Jed?”

“Yes, Papa?”

“Start lookin' for rocks you can tote over here.”

“In my hat?”

Moses straightened up and started unbuckling his belt. Jed took off like his feet were on fire.

Resting on his shovel for a moment, Jamie asked, “I wonder why she did it?”

“Liza told me one time that she thought Ophelia was just about the most ignorant woman she had ever met. She was a pure pleasure to look at — not that I'd ever say that to Liza — but she didn't have nothin' between her ears. Her main business was all located elsewhere, if you know what I mean.”

Jamie chuckled grimly; gallows humor to keep the men going through a terrible time. “What am I goin' to say, Moses? I don't know anything about the woman.”

“I'll say something, Jamie. I don't read so good, but I remember some passages from the Bible. Liza and Sally can sing some old spirituals we used to sing back in Virginia and we'll let it go at that.”

“I still don't know why she did it.”

“She was alone, Jamie. Her man done took off and left her with nothin'. And she was a woman that had to have a man. She approached me 'bout a week after Titus left. Wanted to work somethin' out between us. I told her nothin' doin'. She didn't care for plantin' no garden or tendin' flowers. All her life men has done for her. Bein' a house nigger like she was, some of that uppity stuff done rubbed off on her. Southern gentry white women, Jamie, they raised to wiggle and giggle, not grunt and tote.”

“Then what good are they?” Jamie asked, remembering that his mother worked terribly hard and even Sarah Montgomery, with all her money, worked from can to can't.

“Oh, they mighty pretty decorations, Jamie. They get all dressed up for parties and the like. Pinch their cheeks to get 'em all rosy and such. They play the piano and dance and act the grand lady.”

Jamie tossed a shovelful of dirt out of the deepening hole. “Oh, yeah? What happens when the candles are snuffed out for the night?”

Moses grinned. “The same damn thing that happens in your cabin and mine!”

Ophelia Jefferson was laid to rest and the mound covered with rocks to keep the wolves and coyotes and other animals from feasting on the body. Moses recited some passages from the Bible, some Christian songs were sung, and Ophelia was alone in the small cemetery. She was the first. She would not be the last.

At the beginning of the third year in the Big Thicket, both Kate and Sally announced that they were expecting. Wells was so proud he walked into trees and stumbled around for a while. Jamie nearly went through the roof. For twins and triplets were common in Kate's family.

Moses and Liza came over and while Liza talked with Kate in the kitchen, Moses led the young man outside, a hand on his shoulder. “Boy, me and Liza, we been over talkin' to Wells and Sally and 'bout embarrassed them down to their toes. Now it's you young folks' turn. Jamie, you do know what causes this, don't you?”

Jamie stared at him. “Well, of course I know, Moses. I'm not an idiot!”

“Uh-huh. Howsomever, that might be up to some discussion when it comes to womenfolk. You and Kate had to grow up in a hurry. And you done a dandy job of it. I reckon you really never had no childhood to amount to much. But, Jamie, do either of you know about the moon and a woman's cycles and the like?”

“Huh?”

“I thought so. You come over here and sit with me. We got to talk.” And Moses and Jamie talked, and talked. Jamie was purely astonished.

Didn't do a bit of good. For the very next year after delivering her second set of twins, Kate was pregnant again, and Sally wasn't long in announcing the same. Now there were five small mouths to feed in the MacCallister home. But only for a short time.

The new baby, a golden-haired, blue-eyed girl named Karen, was five months old when the bounty hunters came.