Heaven Sent (20 page)
Her body was suddenly suffused with a quivering warmth that was part remembrance and part anticipation. She was tempted to give into the feeling, but quickly shook it off. She had work to do and no time for daydreaming, no matter how pleasant.
* * *
Henry Lee worked steadily in the cave, breaking up the sweet mash with warmed spring water. It was very important to thin the mash thoroughly or it wouldn't ripen. The smell and the feel was reassuring. It seemed that this was to be an especially good batch, which pleased Henry Lee more than it should have. He had come to think of it as the "wedding whiskey" and somehow he thought having it turn out well would be a good omen for his marriage.
When the sweet mash was finally a consistency that met Henry Lee's expectations, he carefully smoothed it back into the barrel. It should not be packed tight, but with just enough room to breathe. Like a mother tucking in her little ones, he carefully sheltered the mash with two inches of rye malt to seal off the air. He covered the barrel and breathed a sigh of personal satisfaction. It would take several days for the sweet mash to sour. The sugar in the fermented corn would turn into alcohol and carbolic. Henry Lee knew that all that was needed now was patience. When the barrel began to sound like rain on the roof or side pork frying in the pan, it would be time to start it cooking.
He was whistling as he left the cave. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw three riders approaching in the distance. Although he couldn't make out the faces, he could see that they were Indian, and that meant they'd come for whiskey. Henry Lee hurried, hoping that they would not state the nature of their business to Hannah before he could get there. He had to tell her himself; he couldn't let her hear it from someone else.
* * *
Hannah had the corn cooking on the stove and had filled almost a dozen quart jars with black-eyed peas. The jars cooling on the sideboard with the lids carefully setting askew gave Hannah such a sense of purpose and accomplishment that she no longer minded the intense heat of the kitchen.
She set aside a bowl of the black-eyed peas to feed Henry Lee his
meal and had just begun to stir up a batch of cornbread when she heard the approach of horses outside. Thinking that it might be her father again, she left the cornbread makings and hurried out the door.
Hannah was slightly startled to see three Indians in the yard, but recovered herself quickly. She was not a fearful woman or easily intimidated. She was, after all, living in the
Indian Territory
, right in the corner of the Creek Nation. She should expect to see Indians, although none had ever ventured into her yard at
She called out a pleasant "good morning" as the three men stepped to observe her. They were all of middle years, but the one who seemed to naturally take the position of leader was somewhat younger than the other two. Although they were big men, with their rounded faces and somewhat rotund bodies they did not seem at all menacing.
They just sat on their horses and stared at Hannah for a few excruciating minutes as she became more and more uncomfortable. Finally the leader spoke up.
"I want to see Watson."
Hannah felt herself relax. Obviously the men were here on some purpose and not just wandering about, preying on unsuspecting households. She opened her mouth to tell them that he was working out in the fields somewhere, when suddenly Henry Lee emerged from among the trees.
"Good morning!" he called out as he hurried to meet them. Hannah saw that he was very anxious to see the visitors and she assumed that they were friends.
"It's good to see you," Henry Lee told the visitors as he urged them to dismount. As the Indians loosened the cinches on their saddles to give their horses a rest, Henry Lee shook the hand of the leader and spoke to him.
"Harjo, I was wondering when you'd show up," Henry Lee said to the leader and then glanced back at Hannah. He needed to get these Indians away from Hannah before they said something to give him away.
"Come down and take a look at my hogs, they are better looking than any in the territory."
If the leader seemed a bit taken aback by the offer to view the hogs, he covered it admirably and motioned to the other two to follow as he walked with Henry Lee.
As they moved away, Hannah couldn't help but notice the limping gait of the leader. On horseback he looked completely in control, but moving on his own two legs was obviously awkward and uncomfortable.
Hannah felt an immediate surge of sympathy, followed by starry-eyed admiration for her husband. Again, he had surprised her. Most men were hesitant to socialize with the lame or afflicted, as if those "thorns of the flesh" might be contagious. Her husband, however, chose his friends where he would. Proudly, she acknowledged that he was a man of deep feeling and open mind.
If only the people in the church realized what a fine man he was. She was sure the only reason he had not become a part of the church community in the past was because of his own modesty and his family background. He had been simply keeping his light under a bushel. She remembered only a short time ago she had considered him totally frivolous. It was obvious she and the rest of the community were going to have to dig a little deeper to discover what a fine Christian Henry Lee Watson was.
Satisfied, Hannah returned to the kitchen. If Henry Lee had three friends visiting, she certainly wanted to offer more than just black-eyed peas and cornbread. She resolutely commenced dinner preparations.
* * *
As the men approached the pigsty, Henry Lee turned to Harjo.
"So, how much whiskey are you looking to buy?"
The Indian looked at him with an amused question in his eyes. "Maybe I'm not here to buy whiskey. Maybe, I've come to look at your hogs,
Whiskey
Henry Lee felt a flush stealing up his cheeks. One problem he had never suffered was shyness, but it was embarrassing to be caught in such a fouled-up concern.
"I recently got married," Henry Lee stated, not quite able to look Harjo in the eye. "My wife is a very religious woman, a preacher's daughter." Henry Lee began to rush his words as if saying them more quickly would make them easier.
"She doesn't know that I make whiskey, and probably wouldn't approve if she did."
The Indian stared at Henry Lee as if he expected him to say more.
"I would appreciate," Henry Lee said, "if you wouldn't say anything about whiskey around her. And please, don't call me
Whiskey
Harjo continued to remain totally still and to stare at Henry Lee for nearly a full minute, then he suddenly howled with laughter. Turning to the other two men he quickly translated Henry Lee's words into the Muscogee tongue and all three began laughing uproariously. Their laughter was contagious enough to bring a smile to Henry Lee's face, though he no longer found his situation particularly amusing.
As Harjo took a short breathy break in his laughter he said to Henry Lee, "Whiskey Man, you have what all men want, a woman who believes all the lies that you tell her."
That brought fresh laughter to the group and even Henry Lee joined
in
half-heartedly, but he was bothered by the implication. He had lied to Hannah. She had lied to him also, but for good purpose, his conscience argued, to give a child a name. He had lied out of spite.
Henry Lee gathered up the jugs of whiskey for the three and together they walked upstream about a quarter of a mile and hid the jugs in the bushes. The Indians continued to laugh at Henry Lee's painstaking attempts at subterfuge.
They headed back to the house and Harjo turned serious as he spoke of the news from the
Indian Territory
. Now that it was flourishing, Indian politicians were talking about entering the union as the forty-sixth state.
"It's to be an Indian state," Harjo told him, "a land for Indians controlled by Indians."
"It sounds too good," Henry Lee warned him. "Do you think it can really happen?"
The Indian shrugged. "First they have to write a constitution, then the people in the territory have to vote. After all have agreed, only the President of the
United States
can stop it."
"Would he be on our side?"
"Who knows?" he questioned abstractly. "But change is already in the wind. The big men are trying to put on a very civilized appearance for the lawmakers in
Henry Lee nodded. Corralling crime and corruption until after the declaration of statehood had been passed would be very important to the territorial leaders.
"So many people still think of us as the 'wild Indians,'" Harjo complained. "It's almost impossible to make the folks back East understand that in the territory, Indians are better educated and more financially independent than their white neighbors."
Henry Lee nodded understanding. "And the outlaw problem hasn't helped us," he said. "
"That's right," Harjo agreed. "Winning over the Congress would mean cracking down on crime. And that means the Federal
marshalls
."
Rolling his eyes, Henry Lee said in disgust, "The Federal
marshalls
, out of
Fort Smith
, act like the people of this territory are either naughty children or dangerous madmen."
Harjo was not totally in agreement. "You have to admit," he told Henry Lee, "that when Hanging Judge Parker ran the court, the tradition of swift and severe punishment for lawbreakers kept the criminal element either in hiding or on the run. The
marshalls
have done a lot of good, ridding the territory of the worst of those mongrels. Chasing down and rooting out the gunslingers and outlaw gangs has brought
us
a long way toward catching up with the rest of the country and preparing the Nations for the new century."
"Now, Harjo," Henry Lee said shaking his head. "You make it sound like the
marshalls
are a bunch of starry-eyed heroes. Most I've met are just regular family men, who needed to make a living. And getting shot at by professional gunfighters and train robbers for lousy pay is not what most of them want to do. They'd rather earn their money arresting counterfeiters, con men, horse thieves, and poor hardworking whiskey peddlers, like myself."
The last was spoken with a laugh and Harjo slapped his friend on the back. "That's another problem," Harjo declared. "The law concerning selling intoxicating beverages to persons of Indian blood is unjust and should be changed."
"It's not going to happen," Henry Lee told him. "Those lawmakers in
Harjo nodded in agreement. "The young men think that spending time in jail is a symbol of courage, just like bringing down their first deer."
"It's a shame," Henry Lee admitted, then added sarcastically, "but, as far as my business is concerned, I couldn't have asked for a better law. As long as whiskey is illegal for the red man, I will be making a dang good living."
The two men could only laugh at the absurdity of the law.
"The
marshalls
are raiding the whiskey once again," Harjo told him. "Last week they pulled in Pauly Archambo." He said, shaking his head sadly, "Broke Pauly's still to pieces. Now he waits and rots in
Fort Smith
jail. They say he may do ten years at hard labor."
Henry Lee nodded solemnly. He had always been aware of the risks of his business. It kept the price of whiskey high and the competition manageable. He had never worried much about it before. He knew if he were caught he would do his time and start over when he got out. Now, he suddenly realized he had new responsibilities to concern him. What would happen to Hannah if he went to jail? And the child she carried, how would she manage to provide for the child alone?
Harjo turned a stern look to Henry Lee. "Be very careful, Whiskey Man. I don't want that to happen to you."
His concerned visage was suddenly replaced by a smile. "You make the best whiskey in the territory, you do us no good in jail!"
The two laughed and Henry Lee forced his darker thoughts to the back of his mind. "Do you think statehood will be a good thing for us?"
The Indian considered for a few minutes.
"Maybe," he answered finally. "
