December 2, 1811
Lonnie Champ was buried in the Culpepper cemetery. The McAllisters, Zeb and his grampa, Mr. Culpepper and Katie, the Lodge family, and the dragoon patrol in dress uniforms attended. Reverend Lodge conducted the simple ceremony.
“I don’t know,” he said, “what Lonnie Champ’s religious beliefs were. But I do know that he had a fierce loyalty and a good heart. He was a truly good man, and a brave one too.”
The soldiers stood at attention, with their rifles by their sides. At the sergeant’s nod, they raised their rifles and fired into the air. The funeral was over.
On December 7, Captain Morrison assembled all those who were going with the patrol and informed them that he now had his orders. They would be leaving in four days. “You must be ready to leave that morning before sunup,” he said, “or be left behind.”
He was starting to return to the army encampment when two horsemen rode up the long Culpepper driveway. Each man was leading a heavily laden packhorse. Captain Morrison turned his horse and waited for them. They nodded to each other. “Gentlemen,” Captain Morrison said. “Captain,” they said.
Captain Morrison turned his horse once again and rode just ahead of the two men back to where the group was still assembled, talking and making plans.
“Let me introduce you,” he said to the group, “to the others who will be traveling with us on the Nashville Road. This is Mr. Ebersole and this is Mr. Swanson, both from Pittsburgh. They brought four flatboats down the river and—”
“What we brought down the river is none of anyone’s business,” Mr. Ebersole said. “I am not interested in making any social contact with these people. Your job, Captain Morrison, is to get us safely to Nashville, nothing else.”
“My job,” Captain Morrison said, “is to travel from here to Nashville under army orders. Civilians are permitted to go with us, under our protection, at my discretion.”
Ebersole looked around the stable yard and the fenced pasture. “At your insistence, we have given up our rooms at the hotel to camp here. Show us where we may put up our tents.”
Captain Morrison sat silently upon his horse for a moment, then said, “I will lead you there in just one moment. I want to remind you that I also insisted you exercise these four animals every day. They need to be in good physical condition to handle the strenuous trip north.”
“Our horses are in excellent condition.”
“Let me remind you once again: If anyone has to stop for any reason, the patrol cannot wait for you. Those are my orders.”
Turning his horse, he called over his shoulder, “Follow me.”
Everyone began to talk again, excited about the prospect of starting north. Mr. Culpepper said he had something he wanted to discuss with Hannah and Zeb, alone. They walked toward the big barn as they talked. “I know that you want to bring Suba with you on this trip north, Hannah—”
“I do. I can’t bear to leave her here. Dancey Moore is gonna get her. I know it.”
“I doubt that Dancey Moore will ever be a problem again. But I have an idea that may change your mind about leaving her here.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Ever since I heard that Zeb had raced Suba down in Natchez Under-The-Hill, and that she had won against Perfect Chance—”
“Perfect Chance?” Zeb asked.
“That was the name of the racehorse Suba beat. He’s not the best in Natchez, but he often places or shows. He’s certainly faster than any of the fillies at the Natchez racetrack.”
“But that was just one time,” Hannah said.
“That’s true, but I’ve been timing Suba when you and Katie have been racing Suba against Christmas. Her speed is impressive.”
“You think we should race her?”
“I think she could be trained and made ready for the spring races. I think she’ll do very well, Hannah.”
“But if she stays here, I’ll miss her terribly.”
“I know you will, Hannah. But if you ever had thoughts about racing her, now is the time to do it.”
“I’ll have to talk with my parents.”
“I’ve already talked with them about it, Hannah. They said it was completely up to you.”
“And you think it’s a good idea….”
“I do. And if she is as good as I think she is, a foal out of Suba would be a very valuable foal indeed.”
Hannah took a long breath, looking out over the pasture at the horses grazing in the far corner. “I’ll leave her with you and Katie then, Mr. Culpepper.” She sighed. “I wonder if I’ll ever be able to watch her race.”
Suddenly she stopped. “But what about Dancey Moore? What if he ever gets out of that army prison?”
“I’m sure,” Mr. Culpepper said, “that we never need to worry about Dancey Moore again. I know they’re guarding him very well. What’s more, if I’m right about Suba, she’ll be so well-known that stealing her would be impossible. No one could get away with it.”
Tears welled up in Hannah’s eyes, and she got up and headed for the house. “I’m gonna tell Mama what we’ve decided.”
Zeb rode out to the corral on Kapucha where his grampa was working with the little girls. He and his grampa stood together as the children rode around the ring. Mary was trotting her horse and little Beth was walking the pony, her hands gripping the reins tightly. She looked at Zeb’s grampa for approval whenever she passed him.
Zeb was pleased to have an opportunity to talk with his grampa. He told him about the decision to let Culpepper race Suba. Then he told his grampa about an idea he’d been working out involving the draft horses and the missionaries. He spoke with excitement, motioning toward the Lodges, to the McAllisters, and back to himself again. When Zeb was finished, Cracker Ryan clapped him on the back.
“Good thinking, Zeb,” Cracker Ryan said, smiling. “That’s an excellent plan.”