Eyes of Eagles (19 page)

“Several. They wear boots, Wells said.”

“They play a dangerous game.” He swept up Jamie Ian and Ellen Kathleen in his arms and spun around, kissing them. Andrew and Rosanna were taking their naps in cradles in the covered dogtrot, where they could catch the afternoon's breeze and still be protected from the sun. He put the older set of twins down and they ran off, shouting and playing. They would not venture far from the cabin. Several spankings had convinced them that their parents meant what they said about staying away from the edge of the swamp.

“The scalps?” Kate questioned.

“I'll keep them,” Jamie said. “And if I have to hunt men again, I'll tie them to my horse's mane or my long rifle as a warning to others who try to hurt us or take from us.”

Kate knew that topic of conversation was concluded. She looked at the pack horses. “Jamie, you brought back the whole store!”

Jamie smiled. “Some of those supplies were gifts from the Newby Brothers' gang.”

“How very nice of them.”

“Yes,” Jamie's reply was dry. “Toward the end, they had nothing to say about it.”

Kate let that slide. They both turned at the sounds of an approaching horse. Moses and Jed.

“Jed's grown,” Jamie remarked. “And I sure haven't been gone that long.”

She looked at him and smiled impishly. “That's what you think. But yes, Jed's shooting up like a stalk of corn.”

Liza and the twins and Sally and Wells and their kids soon joined the group and they began unloading the supplies, with Jamie dividing them equally. It was quite a pile. When everything was unloaded, and the foodstuffs belonging to Kate were stored, the women went off to oohh and aahh over the several bolts of cloth that Jamie had returned with, and after the horses had been seen to and corralled, the men relaxed for a time, Jed among them, over cups of coffee.

“The men skulking about at night?” Jamie asked. “Tell me about them.”

“Half a dozen of them,” Wells said. “At least. But they don't all come at once. Two this night, two others the next night, and so on. It's got me jumpy.”

“Anything been stolen?”

“Not a thing that I can see.”

Jamie looked at Moses. The older man, his hair now almost totally gray, shook his head. “I don't know who they is. It's got me baffled. It's like they're playin' a game with us. But only they know the rules.”

“Have any of you spoken with the Indians?”

“They haven't been around. This time of year, they're plantin', too.”

“Stay close to your cabins this night,” Jamie said. “The rules of this game are about to change.”

Hart Olmstead and John Jackson sat in Olmstead's fancy office in New Orleans and stared in silence at one another. The two teams of men they'd sent into the Big Thicket country were long overdue. And both men knew that meant only one thing: they were not coming back. They knew another thing, too: Jamie Ian MacCallister had struck again.

Hart cursed and looked at a very rough drawing, a not very precise map of the Big Thicket country. It stretched for several hundred miles and was about as accurate as trying to count the fleas on a dog.

Both men were dressed elegantly, but anyone with a knowing eye could tell they were nothing more than dressed-up white trash. Both men had been rebuked by everyone of quality in the city. Jim Bowie, a man who had made a fortune working with the pirate, Jean Lafitte, in the selling of slaves, would have nothing to do with Olmstead or Jackson. Despite his wild reputation — Bowie had done it all, from capturing and breaking wild horses to riding on the backs of alligators for fun — Bowie was a gentleman, and knew trash when he saw it.

But Olmstead and Jackson were now reasonably well-off men, and their gangs of brigands were large, roaming all over several states and territories slaving — among other things, most of them borderline illegal or just plain outlawing.

Bowie was out of the city now, and not expected to return anytime soon. He was in Mexico, down in Saltillo, capital of the state of Coahuila, a guest of Veramendi, the vice-governor of San Antonio of de Bexar. Both of them were involved in some sort of land deal. Bowie was, according to rumors, also actively courting Veramendi's daughter, Ursula.

Hart Olmstead hated Bowie, but concealed it rather well, for he was scared to death of the man ... most people with any sense were. Hart looked up from the crude map. “Titus could not find the cabins this trip?”

John shook his head. “No. He got everybody lost as a goose in those swamps. I tell you, Hart, you've got to see that place to believe it. It's the spookiest damn place I ever seen in all my life.”

“I'll see it,” Hart said. “I'm putting together an outfit now. We're going into the Big Thicket country to settle this once and for all.”

The door to his office burst open, startling both men. Hart's aide said, “Waymore Newby's back. He's been hurt. His gang was wiped out by that MacCallister person.”

“Goddamnit!” Hart said, slamming both hands onto his expensive desk. “Where is Waymore?”

“Bein' attended to by the doctor. His left hand is crippled and the doctor's diggin around now for the arrow in his hip.”

Waymore's face was shiny with the sweat of pain, but he was conscious and able to talk, the bloody arrowhead lying in a pan on a table by his bed.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Hart asked.

“He ambushed us,” Waymore said, his voice weak. He elected not to tell the man about the attempted rape of his daughter or the callous killing of his grandbaby. “MacCallister killed all the men and scalped them.”

Both Hart and Jackson paled at that last bit of news.

“There ain't nobody over yonder goin' to arrest him, Hart. The area is po-liced by Chief Diwali's Cherokees and Jamie's done made friends with all of them. A man can't git through the Big Thicket from the east. There just ain't no way'cept that known to but a few, and they ain't talkin'.”

Hart looked at the man's heavily bandaged hand. Waymore caught the direction of his eyes and said, “It's ruint. I ain't got but scant use of a couple of fingers. I want to go back, Hart. I got me a score to settle with Jamie MacCallister.”

“We're all going,” Hart promised. “I'm putting together supplies now. It'll be a couple of months before I'm ready. I've got me a man down in the south of Texas who says he knows where Jamie and that whore daughter of mine live. Says he's got a personal score to settle with MacCallister. Seems they had some trouble down in Galveztown a few years back. His name is Bradford.”

* * *

“Wagons comin', Mr. Jamie,” Wells said, after galloping his horse into the yard and jumping from the saddle. He caught his breath. “Three wagons.”

“White men?”

“Yes, sir. Prosperous lookin,' too. How'd they get through?”

“I don't know. They sure took a chance.” Mexico had recently forbidden any further colonization of Texas by Americans and was strictly enforcing the importation of slaves into the territory.

“They're about three miles out now,” Wells said. “I ain't never seen nothin' but men of quality ride a hoss the way the man in front does. And the women drivin' the first two wagons is beautiful.”

“Interesting,” Jamie muttered. He had been sleeping outside for more than a week now, but no sign of those who were skulking about. Whoever they were had obviously stopped slipping about.

Jamie threw a saddle on a horse and rode out to meet the newcomers in the wagons. But they were not newcomers to Jamie, only to the territory.

It was Sam and Sarah Montgomery and Hannah and the Swede.

Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I:
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.

— Christina Georgina Rossetti

“If we start to work in the morning,” Sam said. “I believe we can get a crop in.”

“Oh, easy,” Jamie said. “Winters are very mild down here.” He looked at Sam and Sarah, then at Swede and Hannah. “But why did you pull out of Kentucky?”

“Long story, Jamie,” Hannah said. She and the Swede had two children, a boy three and a girl about fifteen months old. “But I'll make it short. Olmstead and Jackson somehow found out that I had been a Shawnee slave and wife for years. They rode all the way to Illinois to spread the story. Most people accepted it, but many shunned me. If we had stayed, Swede would have eventually killed someone.”

“I understand. Sam, how about you and Sarah?”

“Well, Caney died during a robbery, the Reverend Callaway and family moved away, and to tell the truth, both Sarah and me were getting restless. I hired a western man to find you and report back to me. When he told us of this land, we both agreed that we just had to see it. I sold out and made a very tidy profit, indeed. And ... here we are, Jamie.”

“And there are no other people in this world that I would rather see,” Kate said. “But the Cherokees will surely report you to the Mexican government.”

Sam smiled. “No, they won't. I used some of the profits to insure that. The Cherokees are very intelligent people. They know the value of money.”

Jamie laughed. “Then I take it you have made Egg's acquaintance?”

Sarah said, “That man is anything but a fragile egg. That's the biggest Indian I have ever seen. Does he ever come around here?”

“Egg is everywhere at all times,” Jamie said.

“Now, Jamie...” Sarah cautioned.

“He has spies everywhere,” Kate straightened that out. “They report to him. Nothing goes on that Egg doesn't know about.”

“So tell us about yourself, Jamie,” Swede urged.

Jamie shrugged his heavy shoulders. “Not much to tell, really.”

Sam caught the quick look that passed between Moses and Wells. Sarah noticed that Kate and Liza and Sally suddenly got very busy sewing on the patchwork quilt they were making.

“What's been happening, Jamie, my friend?” Swede asked, leaning closer.

Jamie finished his cup of coffee and sat for a few seconds staring into the cup. Then he began speaking, chronicling the years from the time they left Kentucky up to the present. He left nothing out.

The four newcomers sat in silence after Jamie had finished. Three of them were shocked at the open admission of violence and their faces showed that. Hannah smiled and winked at Jamie. She knew the warrior's way, and could understand from her years with the Shawnees why Jamie scalped all of the men but one, and why he gave that man a decent burial and did not mutilate him.

“Shocked, are you?” Jamie asked, a faint smile playing around his lips. “The last man had courage.”

“I certainly understand your rage, lad,” Sam said. “It was horrible what happened to your child. But it was hardly civilized behavior on your part, as well.”

“It isn't a civilized time,” Jamie retorted. “And I believe that one must meet uncivilized behavior with uncivilized behavior. That is the only way the robbers and rapists and brigands of the world will cease their evil deeds.”

“History proves you wrong, my friend,” Swede said. “By putting a man in debtor's prison because he is unable to pay his debts is not justice.”

“I agree. But as long as he's in there, he won't run up anymore bad debts, now, will he?”

* * *

The summer passed amid a flurry of work and fun. A peddler came along in a big wagon and thought a trading post would do just fine located along the El Camino Real — The Royal Road. There were already a dozen or more cabins there, along the Ayish Bayou, with others in various stages of construction. A Spanish mission had been there for more than a hundred years, but had been abandoned back in the late 1770s when Spain evacuated all East Texas missions. The old walls were still there. It was settled by Anglos in about 1818 and called San Augustine. But now the town was growing.

Jamie viewed it with mixed emotions. When questioned about it, he replied, “Even if Mexico lets them stay, which is in some doubt, a town brings people. And for us, Kate, people mean trouble.”

Even as he spoke, Hart Olmstead, John Jackson, Titus Jefferson, and Robert Washington, and a force some fifty-odd men of extremely ill repute and breeding were leaving New Orleans, heading into the territory of Texas to find and kill Jamie Ian MacCallister. Olmstead had found a man who said he could lead them through the southernmost part of the Big Thicket. They would resupply at the trading post of Beau Mont, and then head north toward the tiny village of San Augustine. He had heard that some whites had settled not too far from there in the swamps called the Big Thicket. The guide was a French trapper called LaBeau. LaBeau was not his real name. Louisiana had had warrants for his arrest for years, but he knew the bayous of South Louisiana and had family there. But even his family had finally wearied of his evil outlaw ways and told him to hit the trail, or the bayou, as it were. And don't come back unless he wanted to fill the belly of some'gator. LaBeau got the message and told his entire family, mama, papa, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins what they could all do with and to themselves... rather vulgarly. LaBeau really started poling his pirogue when he saw his father come out of the cabin with a shotgun. LaBeau made the mistake of standing up to get better leverage with the pole and his father pulled the trigger and shot him in the ass.

But it would be weeks before the mounted column ever got close to Jamie, and in the Big Thicket life went on.

The cabins of Sam and Sarah and Swede and Hannah were built. It didn't take long with everybody working. The cabins were not nearly so grand as the one Sam and Sarah had left behind, but that didn't matter. They were once more close to Jamie and Kate.

Since he didn't really own the land, Jamie gave part of his cleared land to Sam and Swede; during the rather mild winter, they would start clearing more. Moses and Liza and Jeb, Wells and Sally, their own children and the twins were accepted as part of the unit without question. Sam and Sarah and Swede and Hannah all despised slavery.

“And Titus has never come back?” Swede asked. It was late afternoon and the day's work was done. Now it was time for rest and food and conversation. It was a Saturday, and every Saturday evening, weather permitting, the families all gathered for a communal feasting at someone's cabin. This late afternoon they were all gathered at Jamie and Kate's.

“I'm not sure,” Jamie said.

Moses said, “He'll be back.” He checked to see if the twins were out of earshot. “He'll come back to get Anne to sell her to some plantation owner.”

“Why?” Sarah asked. “She's just a child.”

“She's a beautiful girl of eleven or so, Miss Sarah,” Liza said. “Just the right age for some... type of slave-owner.”

“Surely you jest?” Sam asked, his mug of cider forgotten.

“Goes on all the time,” Moses said. “ 'Sides, she could pass and that makes it even better. He'd get a good thousand dollars for Anne.”

“His own child?” Swede asked, horrified.

“There are bad men of all colors,” Moses said. “Yes. He would sell his child to be a white man's bed-partner.”

“Disgusting!” Sarah said.

“Not civilized behavior at all,” Jamie said dryly. “Wouldn't you agree, Sam?”

Sam smiled — thinly. “I would agree. But you think he has been back, Jamie?”

“I think he's tried, and gotten lost. But somebody was sure skulking about here a few weeks ago.” The who and why of those night visitors was as yet unknown to Jamie. But it worried him. Whoever the visitors might be, they were not coming in from the east, through the swamps, for Jamie had picked up their trail and followed it. They were coming in from the west. He lost the trail on the now more heavily traveled road a few miles from his cabin in the thicket.

The friends and neighbors feasted and talked until after night fell, then they began the short journey back to their cabins. Kate had told the women, privately, that she was once more pregnant, but Jamie had not yet told Moses. He did not want another lecture about how babies are made.

The death of Baby Karen had hit Kate much harder than the others realized, for she was as adept as Jamie at hiding her true feelings. They had agreed that having another child would be the best thing.

It had surprised Sam and Sarah when Jamie had informed them of Hart Olmstead and John Jackson's whereabouts. Sam had said that when the men left Kentucky, they had left with much bitterness and rancor. Shortly after Jamie and Kate had left, the original town had been burned and razed by vigilantes and the gamblers and whores and outlaws either ran out or killed. Jamie did not ask if Sam had been among the night riders. But he thought not; Sam did not hold with that kind of action.

And Jamie wondered if Sam could make it out here on the frontier? Sam was a good and decent man, but he still held to the more civilized Eastern code of ethics and law, and Jamie did not know how to tell him that many of those codes simply did not apply out here. And he also wondered if Swede would last out here. Both men were honorable and brave to the soul, but neither man could shoot first and ask questions later. And out here in the raw and oftentimes lawless edge of civilization, many times that had to be the case.

“You're worried about them, aren't you?” Kate asked. The children were asleep and the husband and wife were snuggled close together in their own bed. “Sam and Swede, I mean?”

“Yes. I am. Sam can fight, and will fight. I've been a witness to that. But he's a very honorable man, and his methods of fighting are fair. Swede doesn't know his own strength and he's so slow to anger it's very likely to get him hurt or killed out here.”

“Have you talked to them about that?”

“No. Not yet. But I have to, and soon.”

“Don't you think they knew what they were getting into, Jamie?”

“Not really. It was a grand adventure for them. Oh, I'm glad they're here. But they've got to toughen up. And I don't think that my words alone will do that.”

“Then... what will?”

“Savagery. It's almost as if their lives were being looked over by some guardian angel. They came all the way out here, hundreds of miles, and never encountered one hostile person or act against them.” He put a big hand gently on her stomach. “You think it's twins again, Kate?”

“I don't know. But I sure am getting big awfully fast. I told you, Jamie, triplets run on my mother's side of the family.”

“Good God!” Jamie muttered, and laid his head on the pillow. “Triplets! I'll have to add another room.”

Kate laughed softly. As big as she was getting, she felt sure it was triplets — at least.

* * *

LaBeau was true to his word. He led the men over to the post at Beau Mont and there they resupplied for the trek north. But Hart was careful not to send but a few men in, and they went in one at a time over a period of several days. The Mexican government was really cracking down on Anglos attempting to settle in Texas, and there had been more than a few armed conflicts between the Mexican Army and Americans trying to settle. But Austin was helping to bring them in anyway, sometimes by very devious routes. And come they did.

In about eighteen months, Sam Houston, who had been living with the Cherokees up in what would someday become Oklahoma, will cross the Red River and enter Texas for the very first time. Another man who brings with him more winds of change.

Fontaine had returned from a business trip — actually, he was reporting back to Washington, to President Jackson on the freedom movement by the Americans in Texas — and had noticed the men drifting in to buy supplies. Far too many supplies for one man. Fontaine commissioned one of his own men to lounge around the post and keep tabs on how many men bought how much supplies. It did not take Fontaine long to put it all together, and he sent one of his men to follow a rough-looking fellow who had purchased far too many supplies.

“Fifty or so men camped about five miles to the east, Captain,” his man reported back, using Fontaine's old Army rank. “And they're a rough-lookin' lot. I got in close and heard the names of Jackson and Olmstead.”

Fontaine frowned. Where had he heard that name before? Then it came to him. Jamie MacCallister's words, several years back, at the post when that bounty hunter tried to take him back to Kentucky. 'How much is Olmstead paying you for this travesty of justice?'

Fontaine turned to his man. “Get you some food and rest. Then take the best mount in my remuda and ride like the wind. You know where Jamie MacCallister has settled?”

“Aye, Captain. Just east of San Augustine. In the Big Thicket. Them thugs, they're here to do harm to the lad and his wife?”

“Yes.”

“I don't need no rest and it won't take me but a moment to change saddles. That's a good boy and them are good folks who settled in there with him. Negra and white alike. I'll eat on the ride if you'll have someone fix me a poke of food.”

“It'll be waiting.”

But Jamie had long anticipated the day when Hart Olmstead and John Jackson would find them and launch an attack against them. Deep in the swamps, miles from where he and Kate lived and farmed the land, he had built a snug cabin and stocked it with blankets and firewood. He had built a false bottom in the floor and kept it stocked with guns and powder and balls. And he had taken the women there many, many times, until they had the route committed to memory — they could paddle there day or night.