Seventeen
The double wedding was planned for June, which would give the ladies time to sew up wedding dresses and Jamie time to melt and mold four gold wedding bands for the kids. Sam was astonished when Jamie finally took him into his confidence and showed him his vein.
“Jamie!” the older man exclaimed. “Do you know what this means?”
“It means that none of my family will ever want for anything they really need. And that’s all it means. Sam, mountain men have known of gold in these mountains for years. We just don’t want a bunch of pilgrims swarming in here, that’s all.”
“But Jamie, this country would grow and expand with businesses and people and churches if this was known.”
“And the Indians aren’t ready for that, Sam. Settlers will be along soon enough. Then the Indians will fight and they’ll die and the survivors will be put on reservations to rot. Let’s give them a little more time.”
“I will never understand your love for the Indians, Jamie.”
“They’re free, Sam. But they won’t be for long.”
Jamie decided to ride to Bent’s Fort for supplies and for once, Jamie Ian did not pester him to go along. The boy was so much in love he was walking into trees. Swede, Wells, and Sam opted to go, and they pulled out one warm morning in late spring, trailing a long string of pack mules and horses, for the settlement had grown so that many more supplies were needed to sustain the group.
“You really crossed barren deserts, Jamie?” Wells asked.
“I’ll say I did. Me and Horse.”
Horse was out to pasture for a long rest and to breed with some selected mares. Jamie was riding the big appaloosa, Thunder, and the stallion was ready for the trail and showed it. When Jamie would let him, he pranced, head held high and mean eyes taking in all that lay before him.
“And the ocean is vast?” Wells asked.
“Like nothing I had seen before. Just rolled on endlessly. It sort of held you in its power. The longer you looked at it the stronger it held on to you.”
“I’d like to see it,” the black man said, then grinned. “But to tell the truth, I’m content to be livin’ as a free man.”
Stories about the valley where Jamie and the others had settled had spread back east; many folks had taken a notion to settle there, but it wasn’t easy to do so. The difficulty was twofold: the valley was very hard to find, and those who were already there were being very selective about who settled in the valley. Half a dozen families had rolled in over the years and after looking them over and talking among themselves, the newcomers had been told to keep on traveling.
Some of those had professed a dislike for negroes; others had looked down their noses at Mexicans. In MacCallister’s valley, as it was now called, the color of a man’s skin went unnoticed; it was the man himself who counted. Some westward movers had been white trash, shiftless rawhiders who would forever be expecting something for nothing, constantly whining about one thing or the other. They were called rawhiders because when they patched something, they used rawhide to hold it together for the moment, instead of taking the time to repair it to last.
A few had taken umbrage at being told to move on. But one look into Jamie’s cold eyes was usually all it took to get them going. Only one man had elected to fight. He had been buried among the others in what the kids had started calling “Outlaw Acres.” The adults had attempted to stop that but to no avail. They had finally given up and Outlaw Acres remained the name of the final resting place for those who chose to live by the outlaw code.
* * *
Back in the States, 1843 saw other changes and events. The Oregon Bill passed the Senate, but the bill to encourage migration to the Northwest died in the House. A thousand pioneers left Elm Grove, Missouri, bound for Oregon. John Fremont and his friend and guide Kit Carson started their second expedition. Jamie was asked to go along and politely refused. A shaky truce was declared between Mexico and the Republic of Texas. A convention in Ohio adopted a resolution to make 54-40 the American line for the Oregon Territory, thereby pushing the boundaries to take in what would someday be Washington State. Washington, D.C. started to show interest in annexing Texas, but Sam Houston was opposed to it. James Bridger opened Fort Bridger on a fork of the Green River in southwest Wyoming.
* * *
But those in the long and lush and peaceful valley would know little of these events until long afterward. The newspapers and the few magazines they read were months old by the time they reached Bent’s Fort; another few months old before they reached MacCallister’s Valley. The settlers there were content; they enjoyed news of the outside, but it didn’t really affect them. They felt insulated from outside events. The Indians in the area were their friends; they visited each other and traded back and forth. They learned from one another, with neither side making any effort to change the way of the other . . . no matter how strange they might have seemed.
* * *
On the trek to Bent’s Fort, the men saw only a few Indians, and they were friendly—and not just because of the reputation of Man Who Is Not Afraid, also called lately, Bear Killer. The Indians in the area had seen, over the years, that those who settled in the valley respected the land. Unlike most whites, they hunted only for food and, again unlike most whites, used all of the animal that was useable. There were many other little things that did not go unnoticed by the Indians.
A day from the fort, Jamie was ranging far out ahead when he spotted a small band of Cheyenne. Jamie knew he spotted them only because they wanted him to spot them. He rode over to the band and made the sign of peace and friend.
“Bear Killer,” the leader said, after signaling peace and friend. “All is well with you?”
“Life is good and all my family and friends are well. How are things in your village?”
“Very fine. Hunting is good and sickness has stayed away. We are returning from the walled fort and we have news. No time to sit and smoke and that saddens me.”
“As it also saddens me,” Jamie replied. “For Dark Hand is a good friend. We must hunt together sometime.”
“It would be an honor. Bear Killer, there are many men at the fort who ask quiet questions about you. They are not good men, I think. They smell very bad and seem to not like to bathe their bodies. They all have sneaky ways and shifty eyes.”
Contrary to what has been written by a number of people, most Indian tribes maintained very strict hygienic practices, often times breaking the winter’s ice daily to bathe. Only a few tribes chose to live in filth and they were looked down upon by the other tribes and associating with them was strictly taboo.
“I have heard the names Sax-on and Big-ers mentioned several times,” Dark Hand concluded. “They are enemies of yours, Bear Killer?”
“Yes. Old enemies.”
Dark Hand shrugged. “Then the answer is simple. We shall wait here with you and when the smelly white men come, we shall kill them.”
Jamie knew that he had to answer that very wisely, for to refuse outright would be a great insult. “Your offer is much appreciated, but I think it would be unwise for you to involve yourself in this, Dark Hand. For if just one of the smelly white men got away, then the alarm would be sounded against all Indians in the area.”
“Ummmm,” Dark Hand said. “Yes. You are right. Bear Killer is wise beyond his years. And kind, too, for putting our safety over that of his own.” He looked at the long string of mules and horses. “Your village is growing, yes?”
“Yes. And there is to be a wedding in two moons. My oldest son and the daughter of a friend.”
“They have my blessing,” the Cheyenne said. “May they have strong, brave sons and beautiful and obedient daughters. Ahhh,” he sighed. “This younger generation now. No respect for their elders. I tell you, Bear Killer, I don’t know what is going to become of them.” He lifted his painted hand. “We go!”
Jamie rode back to the others. “Trouble?” Swede asked.
“Not from them. Come on. I’ll tell you on the way.”
When he had finished, Sam said, “There is always a certain type of person who wants to knock off the king of the hill, Jamie. You have quite a reputation, and it’s growing, and I fear it will continue to grow as long as you live. For you do nothing to keep a low profile.”
“That’s not my style, Sam.”
Sam grunted. “And naturally, you’re going straight on into the fort.”
“That’s what I came for, Sam.”
“And if I suggested that you camp outside the fort and let us go in and get supplies?”
Jamie smiled and it took years off his still young face. “I would think you had taken leave of your senses, Sam.”
“I believe it was Alexander Pope who wrote that line concerning fools who rush in where angels fear to tread, Jamie.”
Jamie laughed. “You think I’m a fool, Sam.”
“No. I don’t. But you are a family man who has tremendous responsibilities.”
“I’m aware of my responsibilities, Sam. But look at it this way: would you rather have the fighting done at the settlement?”
Sam was silent for a moment. “I see your point,” he finally conceded.
Several trappers that Jamie knew walked over to him as soon as he swung down from the saddle inside the fort. “They’s some bad ones here, Jamie,” one said. “They ain’t come right out and made no direct threats toward you. But several whispers has been heard and they’re up to no good.”
“If you’ve a mind to, we can run them out now,” another said.
“Is Jack Biggers here?” Jamie asked.
“Was. He pulled out a few days ago. But some of his brothers is among them whisperin’. Most of ’em is camped outside the fort. But they’s a bad one still here calls hisself Rodman. Watch him. He’s a sneaky one.”
Rodman was pointed out and Jamie thanked the men and went on about his business. Wells found Jamie in the blanket section of the huge store; the black man was badly shaken.
“What’s wrong, Wells?”
“Poppa’s here, Jamie. And Robert is with him.”
Jamie stood rock still for a moment, as the memories came flooding back. Titus Jefferson, the ex-slave who had pushed his wife Ophelia into whoring for the white plantation owner, and whose union had produced the white twins Roscoe and Anne. Robert, Moses’s son, who had turned bad and run away with Titus and then joined up and begun plotting with Olmstead and Jackson and the others to kill Jamie.
“Did he see you, Wells?”
“Looked right at me but didn’t recognize me. I reckon I have changed some.”
Wells had filled out and matured in the years since his father had deserted family and friends down in the Big Thicket country of Texas. He had grown a moustache and was now all dressed out in homespun britches and buckskin shirt. It was easy to understand why Titus had not recognized him.
While the country was not overflowing with negroes, there were many in the wilderness. A few were free men but most were runaway slaves.
“Well, he’s heard by now that I’m here,” Jamie said. “Let’s see if he approaches me.”
It would have been difficult for Titus and Robert to avoid Jamie within the walls of the fort, and within the hour, Titus and Robert hailed Jamie.
“Can I have a moment of your time, Jamie MacCallister?” Titus said.
Jamie turned and looked at the man. Titus’s hair was now all salt and pepper, and Robert appeared to have matured. Neither man’s eyes held the wild hatred for whites that had been there in Texas. Jamie smiled and stuck out his hand. “Sure, Titus. Good to see you. And you, Robert. Let’s step over into the shade, shall we?”
Both men seemed to relax and the tension went out of them. In the coolness of shade, sitting on a bench, Titus said, “We knew this day would come, and we was both dreadin’ it.”
“No reason to,” Jamie assured them. “I hold no rancor toward either of you. You went down some wrong paths years back, that’s all. Have you found the right paths out here?”
Both men nodded their heads. “We got us a place in a small valley,” Titus said, and then he smiled. “Really, not that many miles from where you and the others have your settlement. But we were afraid to come see you for fear you would kill us.”
“No danger of that, Titus. All that is in the past.”
Robert said, “We both are married, in the Indian way. I have two children.”
“I figured I was too old to start a family,” Titus said. “But Moon Woman thought different. We have two children also.”
“Titus,” Jamie asked, “have you heard news of Roscoe and Anne? They slipped away in the dead of night some time past.”
“I heard they’re in St. Louis, passing for white.” He shook his head sadly. “They’re both talented actors and singers—they’ve made quite a reputation for themselves. They go by the name, Le Beau. I fear they’re in for a terrible time if they’re discovered.”
“How are my mother and father?” Robert asked.
“Healthy and happy. They would be glad to see you.”
“You would not object if we came for a visit?” Titus asked.
“I wouldn’t object if you came to live there. Both of you. It’s a big valley.”
There were tears in the eyes of both men. Jamie pointed to a tall and ruggedly built black man standing in front of the smithy’s shop. “That’s your son, Titus. Wells. He and Sally are married and have a family. You’re a grandfather several times over.”
Titus stared at Wells for a moment and then put his face in his hands and wept.
Jamie patted the man on the shoulder. He waved at Wells and the man hesitantly began the walk over to his father. “Robert, let’s you and me make ourselves scarce for a time. There are some folks I want you to meet.”
Before they had gone fifteen feet, a shout stopped Jamie in the courtyard of the fort. He shoved Robert away from him.
“MacCallister!” the burly man shouted again. “Stand and deliver. You choose to harbor a murderin’ son of a bitch, then pay the price!”