Mississippi Jack: Being an Account of the Further Waterborne Adventures of Jacky Faber, Midshipman, Fine Lady, and Lily of the West (37 page)

Tepeki, her own chores done, has come to seek me out, and when I see her come up to me, I sign to her
Quiet. I. Listen. Palefaces.
and nod at the men entering the tepee. She glances over, then nods, and we go around the back and lie down on the ground such that we can put our ears to the opening below the hide covering of the tepee. This Tepeki doesn't lack for cheek, that's for sure. I grin at her and put my finger to my lips in the universal
shush!
sign and she grins back. I cock my ear to the conversation inside.

"Please tell Blue Hand, Great Chief of the Cherokee, that His Majesty King George of England sends his fondest greetings." This from the older cove, I'm thinking.

The translator speaks and Blue Hand says something in return.

"He says he is happy to receive greetings from his brother King George and welcomes you gentlemen to his tepee."

"Thank the Chief and tell him that King George sends his Cherokee brother this fine pistol as a token of his esteem. Lieutenant, if you would?"

Lieutenant ... hmm...

There is the sound of a case being opened and then an appreciative
wah!
from Blue Hand. I hear the hammer being cocked. Then the Chief speaks again.

"He says many thanks for the pistol and asks what he can give his brother George in return."

I hear the agent take a deep breath before he begins on what I feel will be the heart of the matter.

"Chief Blue Hand, it has come to your brother King George's attention that the American settlers have been moving into the lands of the Cherokee, and this has filled his heart with sorrow..." Here he pauses to let the translator do his job. After the Chief hears it and gives an
ugh!
of agreement, the agent goes on.

"This taking of the sacred land of the Cherokee has saddened him so much that he wishes that he could rise up and smite these settlers and free his Cherokee brothers from their transgressions, but, alas, he cannot do that, for he is too far away, across the great ocean from here." Again a pause, and then again he goes on.

"But the great and noble Cherokee and their brothers the Shawnee, the Choctaw, the Creek, and the Chickasaw
are
here, and the King urges them to rise up and take the path of war against these invaders who, in their great numbers, will not stop coming on Indian land till the last red man and his woman and his child are thrown into the great waters to drown!"

There is more translation, and angry sounds now from Chief Blue Hand. On the agent presses.

"The King will help his Indian brothers in their rightful anger against these settlers," says the agent, "by putting in your hands five American dollars for every white man's scalp, three dollars for every woman's, and two for every child's."

I am barely able to suppress a gasp.
This can't be true! Englishmen can't be doing this!

As this is spoken in Cherokee, Tepeki, too, understands and looks at me in sorrow. Our happiness with our little adventure in eavesdropping is now gone.
How can people be so cruel?

Blue Hand responds that he will have to talk it over with his fellow chiefs, but he has taken the white man's words to heart and it has brought gladness to him.

Farewells are said and the Special Agents take their leave.

I stand up, fuming. Tepeki also gets up and signs
sorrow
to me, her eyes cast down. I take her to me and whisper, "Tepeki and Wah-chinga," and by putting both of my hands into fists and then crossing my arms on my chest, I make the sign
affection.
Then I take her by the shoulders and put a kiss on her forehead. She nods and I motion for her to follow me.

We stride along the backs of the tepees, me intent on following these bastards back to their lodging to see what else they've got to say when they think no one else is listening. A very subdued Tepeki comes along with me and again we lie down with our ears to the bottom of a tepee.

There is the sound of shuffling as the men make themselves comfortable. I hear a bottle being uncorked and the
tink
of a bottle laid against a glass and then the gurgle of liquid being poured, then...

"Ah, that's much better," one of them sighs, the older one, I believe. "So what do you think? Will they go for it?"

"I think it's all up to Tecumseh. If he goes for it, the rest of the bloody savages'll fall in line. At least we've gotten Half Red Face to sign on now—the rest of the malcontents from this bunch should fall into line with him even if Tecumseh refuses to sign on." This from the younger man, and it's plain their Indian translator is no longer with them, or else they don't care about insulting him. "When do we get to talk to the main man?"

"Tonight, after they've all had a chance to powwow with him. That Blue Hand seemed ready to go on the warpath, though. You could see the greed in his eyes."

"Maybe so, but I must tell you, Sir, that I don't like the sight of all those armed braves strutting around. And here we are, sitting on a box of money. They've all got guns, too. Hell, I thought they was all supposed to be carrying bows and arrows. Or spears. Damn! And where's that damned Allen, who's supposed to be providing for our safety? Off chasing some skirt, no doubt, the randy bastard!"

"Sergeant Bailey did say something about there being a white girl in this camp."

"Oh? And how old?"

"Midteens, Bailey thinks. Small, but full-grown. Quite pretty, too, I hear. Doesn't speak English. Probably captured as a baby after her family was slaughtered."

"
Hmmm...
"

"Put that out of your mind. We are well acquainted with your own reputation as regards the ladies, Flashby."

Flashby! That's why he looked so familiar! He's that cove what tried to drag my passed-out drunken body off to do me on that black day back at Dovecote! Of course he would end up in some dirty business like this!

"If you want to keep your hair, I suggest that you'd best wait till we get back to the fleshpots of New Orleans."

Now I'm really gonna have to stay out of sight! If he gets a glimpse of me...

There is a growl of assent from Flashby. "Aye, aye, Mr. Moseley, but I hope she gives the arrogant son of a bitch a good dose of the clap."

The older man laughs. "She might at that, we shall see. But right now I'm hungry. See if Private Quimby can whip us up some decent rations. I'll be damned if I'll eat that Indian slop—ain't hungry enough to eat stewed dog. Not yet, anyway."

I've heard enough. I tap Tepeki on the shoulder and we quietly get up and go back to join the other girls. I've got a lot to think about.

It turns out that the girls are now keen on having that swim that was denied us earlier, and so we all charge on down to the women's bathing place. After what I have just heard, I could use a good cleansing bath. Plus, the girls-only nature of the women's bathing spot makes it a good place for me to lay low and stay out of Flashby's sight.

We strip down on the bank and hang our clothes on nearby branches. I am truly fond of the buckskin outfit the girls have given me, and I fold it over carefully, as I intend this to be my costume for the rest of the journey down the river.

After getting some
ooohs
and
ahhs
over the nature of my skin, hair, and, of course, tattoo, I plunge into the water and join the frolic, putting the rest of the day out of my mind.

We have a merry time of it, hooting and splashing about, and after a bit, my feet find that there's a quite deep channel next to a high part of the bank. Taking a deep breath, I dive under for a look.

The water is quite clear, and I see no obstructions—roots, branches, or the like—in the deep under the bank. There are some holes in the underwater bank that are probably the entrances of some creature's den, but they ain't bothering me, so I shan't worry about them. I dive down further and see some clamlike things sticking upon the bottom.
Hmm...
I'll wager I ate some of those things in the last stew I had. I kick around the bottom a bit more, and when I've been down about a minute I shoot back up to the surface.

I'm astounded to see Tepeki's worried face in front of me, her black hair streaming about her face. Hey, I was only down for a minute or so. I look downstream and see that some are combing the shallows for my drowned body. Tepeki's expression changes to one of anger. I sign
sorry
and then
Sister.
She looks stern and then forgives me, throwing her slippery arms about my neck in relief. I return the hug and then clamber out of the water and go up onto the high bank.

I decide to give them my backflip first. Feet together, arms held out forward, I bend my knees and spring backward, legs overhead, and then feetfirst into the water.
Not too bad,
I'm thinking.
Could use a little more height, though.
When I come back to the surface, I get hoots and a few
yiyiyiyiyi
s by way of applause. I climb back out, intending to treat them to my swan dive. This so reminds me of my time in my beautiful lagoon, back when I was marooned in South America.

Gaining the bank, I put my toes over the edge, heels together, and arch my back and extend my arms gracefully out to the side.

I see shocked looks from those below. What? This isn't that shocking? It's just a dive, and it's a lot easier one than the backflip ... But then I realize that it ain't me they're lookin' at. I smell the unmistakable odor of tobacco wafting from behind me and I look over my shoulder. There stands, smoking his usual cheroot, Captain Richard Allen, a broad smile on his face.

"I think I was hasty before in naming you She-Is-Pretty-Thing. I now think that She-Has-Saucy-Tail would be much more appropriate. Or would Pretty-Bottom be more to your liking?"

I can't let him see my tattoo!
is my only thought and concern as I hastily dive into the water, much less elegantly than I had planned. I hit the water and go down to the bottom to think for a second.
Did I stupidly speak in English when I was showing off before the girls? Had he been hiding in the bushes
the whole time and spot my tattoo?
I don't know, I only know I've got to go up for air eventually, and so I kick off the bottom and resurface, showing only the bridge of my nose and my furious eyes, which I fix on the arrogant Captain Allen.

Matching me for fury is Tepeki who, with a fine string of what I assume are Shawnee curses, sends a little kid off to get someone to set this interloper straight, and then charges out of the water herself, picks up a handful of mud, and wings it at the officer, who steps aside to avoid the missile.

"Now, now, Pocahontas, settle down. I'll be gone long before that old squaw you sent the little brown dumpling off for comes down and chases me off ... But you know, you're a right handsome one, too, Pocahontas ... Ah, yes, a man could have a real good time here. 'Tis a pity I can't tarry." He takes the cigar out of his mouth and points the slippery wet end at me. "You, I'll see later," and he turns and walks unhurriedly off.

I rise up and watch him saunter away.

The insufferable cheek of that man!

We are getting ready to leave. At breakfast, when I deliver their bowls to the men, Lightfoot looks up at me and says, "Stay."

I look at him and raise my eyebrows in question.

"That Katy girl," he begins, and I swear he looks embarrassed, shy, even. "I-I got her these." And he holds up a finely tooled and decorated leather quiver that is full of arrows. "Our best arrow-maker, old Sequi-tan, made these. Ain't none better. Think she'll like 'em?"

I smile at his discomfort—the strong and brave mountain man Lightfoot, who could kill ten men without blinking, all fumble-mouthed when talking to a girl about another girl.

"I think she'll like 'em just fine, Lightfoot," I answer. "But when it comes to girls..." I finger the collar of my fine buckskin shirt and the hem of my fine buckskin skirt.

"Ah," he says, taking my meaning.

"She's about the same size as Tako-hah-yoe," I say as I leave the tepee. He nods. She's a Shawnee girl I know from our swimming sessions whose name means Willow-tree, and she's probably the tallest girl in the camp.

***

Had it not been for the fact that Lightfoot had to go hunt up the outfit he wished to give to Katy, we would have left right after breakfast, but as it was, I had time to go look up Tepeki to say good-bye. I found her looking for me in the center of the village.

"
Wah-ho-tay,
Wah-chinga," she says by way of greeting, and I return the greeting, and we join hands, and I lead her toward the backs of the outlying tepees yet again. I intend to have one more listen to the agents to see if anything was decided last night in the big powwow. They were all at it far into the night, I know, but since Tecumseh's tepee was square in the center of the town, with people all about, I knew I couldn't just plop down and listen in as I did at Blue Hand's abode.

I lie down for a last listen. If I find that Tecumseh agrees with the agents' fiendish scheme, we'll have to spread the alarm to warn settlers as we take the
Belle
down the river. Tepeki lies down beside me.

"Dammit to hell, Flashby, why can't these damned savages ever make up their minds?"

"Probably figures he's got to go on a vigil first," says the other man, "have some sort of heathen vision to show him the way."

Good. It seems that Tecumseh hasn't yet agreed to do their murdering for them.

"Aye, and it's all up to him, too. If he goes along with it, the others will follow and—"

"What have we here, now?" says a voice above me. "Captain Allen, come look!"

Uh-oh...

I'm shocked to see a pair of shiny black boots next to my face. I try to get to my feet to make a run for it, but one of the boots is lifted and placed in the middle of my back, pinning me to the ground. I hear Tepeki getting up and running away.

"What's going on out there?" demands Moseley from inside the tent.

"Caught that little white girl sneakin' around back o' yer tent, Sir," says Sergeant Bailey, the owner of the heavy foot that holds me down. I'm having trouble breathing.