Princess Ces'alena (Webster Fields)

by Mercedes Keyes

  Chief Blue Eagle and Chief Long Bow sat at the big table with their co-chief’s listening as the message was delivered.

  “I am Justin Colt of the Chickasaw, as you all know…the fight for our lands continue. To my good fortune, I was chosen and have visited the northeast where a lot of governmental discussions are taking place. I have also befriended a great man among the Chickasaw, William Colbert. And he further encourages us to better ourselves, that we may be equipped to grow in friendship with this Americas as they climb in power.”

  “For What?!” Chief Blue Eagle cut in saying. “No matter what is done on our behalf, the white man will grow in power and push us aside. Enough of this talk you bring!”

  “Don’t you see, what he presses us to do, will insure us a hold of this land?”

  “Are we not already doing these things!?” Blue Eagle attacked heatedly.

  “But we need to add to that, the learning of his government and laws. Many years ago, William Colbert visited President Washington, and since then he has made several trips back for other reasons, his last trip there I was taken along. There I stayed getting an education. While there, I attended secret meetings where there are men from the north and east who wish to make changes in the growing disregard for the Indian’s rights of holding their lands. They speak on our behalf, equally concerned about the mistreatment of the Negro who is forcefully brought to our land as slaves to the white man.”

  “Hah! You think they care about the man whose shade is darker than our own? They do not know what we go through here, fighting to keep our lands. You think they care how the black man suffers beneath the whip? And yet they ask us to be as they are! Already many of our brothers have done as they have, built homes and now - have even taken slaves for themselves!! This is what they wish of us! This is what you bring!? More talk from those who sit in their strange clothing, sipping tea in their box rooms and talking only of what they not know!” He went on angrily.

  “Please!” Chief Long Bow stood aggravated wanting to hear what Justin Colt had to say. “At least let him finish with what he has come to say, no matter what we think the results will be, we need every means of support and knowledge we can get. Now I would like to hear him out!”

  Chief Blue Eagle was thoroughly offended by his interruption, though he continued to do so himself, feeling they were disregarding what he was saying. He stood facing Chief Long Bow, “I have shared my village with you freely and have allowed you and your own to dwell here, which is not common for the Creek. This alone shows our willingness to conform. All that I’ve done is to make peace with the Cherokee and Chickasaw. As well the Choctaw, this Indian -(his hand indicated Justine Colt)- painted white with all his white learned talk and dress can do nothing for my people. Right now, the Creek have their own confederacy.” He proclaimed proudly. “Just so you both understand, I will influence a great number of my warriors to join in and fight when the time comes. I declare before you now, that we will push the white man off of our lands, and those who will not be pushed, then they shall die! That is the word of the one we follow, Tecumseh!”

  “But Pushmataha, the Choctaw leader says that the states of this Americas are growing in strength; and a war with them would be suicidal.” Justin cut in trying to reason with Chief Blue Eagle.

  “We will not stand by and allow the white man to take over our lands. When the time comes, the Creek will fight. Those who are not brave enough to stand with us are no brother to the Creek!” With that said, he walked out of the meeting with his co-chief behind him.

  Chief Long Bow turned to Justin Colt with a heavy heart. “Well, it seems that again, I will have to uproot my people and move on.”

  “If you must do so, you shall join the Chickasaw. We dwell close to the city of Vicksburg. My chief will be more than happy to receive you and those who follow you Chief Long Bow. The more there are of us who unite, the stronger we will become.”

  “I thank you Justin. My wife will be more than overjoyed to hear this; her family has a plantation there. I am familiar with this area. I will gladly take you up on your offer.”

  “How long will it take you to gather your people for the move?”

  “We will be ready in three days.”

  “Good. I will stay and escort you to my village. Chief Menomonee will be pleased as well surprised.”

  “Come Justin; join me in my dwelling for a meal that I may further hear of this message you bring.”

  After they finished the evening meal…Red Dawn cleared away the eating utensils while Justin Colt continued where he left off earlier.

  “As I tried to tell you, from the east, there are those who volunteered to join in the cause. Willing to educate as well set up a means to teach our tribes, and the slaves. They have a dual cause, and are willing to help us however they can. One way is to instruct us on the laws of this new government as well basic education skills, such as in reading and the speaking of proper English. They will then choose those who have excelled to take back and stand before the courts to show that we are not animals. But men, as they are men; able to learn and conform, living as they live. They feel that it would be wise for the Indian and the Negro to unite. We are, after all, fighting for the same rights, causes and goals…to be noted as human equals; with the same mental abilities and pursuits. Wishing to dwell and care for our families as they wish to do with theirs; it is a noted fact that this is why they fled their land, to come here so that they could be free! So, if we show this…they will understand. The declaration of Independence they wrote said it stood for every man! This is why we must learn to represent ourselves in a way that they cannot dispute! According to their laws, we have rights…in order to know what they are, we must learn. In order to demand them, we must learn. And those who will teach us, are on their way.”

  “These men, when can we expect them? And who are they?” Long Bow asked.

  “They are Christians, as well as abolitionists. They travel in groups, and then scatter throughout their assigned territories. There are entire families, as well single men.”

  “Do you at least have their names, so that when they arrive, we will be sure of who they are?”

  “Yes, a few names I have…but there will be more, heading to other locations. The ones coming to our area are two families and four single men. They will play the part of settlers seeking a place to make a home, finding jobs among the plantations if they can. Let me see, I had their names written down and put the paper here in my pouch.”

  He reached within searching, “Ah yes, here it is, two families, in which the head of one is an elder of some kind with their religion. And four single men. The two families are the Weston’s and the Johnson’s. The Weston’s are a husband and wife, with an older son, and a young daughter. The elder’s name is Jacob. The Johnson’s are a husband and wife…both ministry teachers. Patrick, is the man’s name. The single men are, Zedekiah Weston, Markus Gentry, Phillip Preston and Thomas Sandoval.”

  LITTLE ROCK, ARKANSAS

  JANUARY, 1811

  “You - are you going to be alright Manny?” Charles asked, feeling stupid by the question, but knew not what else to say, deeply concerned for his friend; then shook his head, knowing of course he would not.

  “Yeah…I’m – I’ll be alright.”

  “You don’t look alright. You’ve been sitting there looking out of that window for hours now.”

  Manny didn’t answer; he sat watching the snow fall in front of their hotel. That very snow would be gone soon, leaving no sign of ever falling, like his son, gone without a trace.

  “Manny, don’t do this. I can’t stand to see you hurting this way. I need to hear you say something, anything.” Charles sat on the back of the sofa in their room hoping to reach his friend through his block of devastation. “Loose your temper, curse, go drinking, pick a fight, cry even, but please… don’t just sit there, you look defeated…destroyed.”

  “I am. I - have - nothing. -(he shook his head)- I don’t understand.
Am I so bad a person, that God allows the devil this play at me? What have I done that is so wrong?” He asked, needing to know.

  “It is not you my friend. It is the way of things that has brought us to this, you – to this.” Charles tried to reason with him.

  Manny slipped back into silence, moments passed before he spoke again, “How could we have come so close to finding him and then…gone, gone again.” Feeling lost, he bent forward resting his forehead in his palms, his elbows on his knees.

  “Are you telling me you’ve given him up for dead?!”

  “I don’t know what I’m telling you.” He returned, pulling himself erect. “I don’t know…what'll I do now Charles? My son is out there somewhere, and I cannot find him. God - Charles, what if he is dead-…” He dropped his head into his palms, feeling the tears come.

  “Don’t say that, you don’t know that.”

  Manny leaped from his chair before Charles, who stood as well, knowing that he was likely building to blow. “You saw the place, you heard what he said. A gang of bandits attacked his farm, they raped and killed his wife and servants; and killed his son for trying to defend his mother, then set his home on fire!” Both could still vividly see the torment of David Lawrence as he sat at a table in the bar. Between sobbing and swaying back and forth, he told them of the hell he’d endured. The gang of bandits had come upon his farm in the early dawn. They’d known he was the banker in town.

  The demand was simple; no one would be harmed if he did what they said. One man rode with him to town, while the others stayed at his farm, holding his family hostage. “I did it…I did what they said…but they — they-…” He choked up unable to speak for the racking sobs.

  “What about the boy?” Charles asked, by then, Manny had stumbled back in shock against the wall.

  The man shrugged shaking his head. “I buried the dead…I buried them all; the boy…gone - gone.” He repeated, and started weeping again. “Everything - gone…my whole family…gone…jus’ like that…” He slurred rocking back and forward until he landed forward on the table, passed out.

  “Manny, you can’t believe him dead. His body was never found.”

  “Where is he then Charles, hm? Where’s my son now?”

  “I know Manny, I know. But there’s still hope.”

  Manny exploded, “Hope!!! Hope?! There is no Hope!! There was never any Hope!!” He yelled the double meaning. “If he is still alive…that means the bandits have him, or he got away. And if either is to be true, where do we look now? Which direction do we go in? How in hell - am I to find him? That is…if he’s still alive!!” Manny argued; his face and eyes red and wet. He then quieted as if speaking to himself. “If my son is still alive, and they have him, what is he going through right now?”

  “Manny, forget that. Let’s consider he may have gotten away.”

  Eyes full of despair, wet and bloodshot turned to Charles. “Yes, let us do. Let us say he escaped. He is only ten years old – a young boy Charles; in an unknown city. It is winter - cold outside, damn cold. How is he to keep himself warm? Who does he know that will feed him? Hm? Who? Where is he to sleep through the long cold nights? Do you think he is properly dressed for this weather? Somehow I doubt it. So now, you tell me, what are the odds that he will survive?!?”

  “Alright, alright…I see your point. But - as long as no body was found, then there is still the possibility he’s alive, Man-…”

  “Charles, you may not understand this, but…I don’t know if I want him to be alive. If he isn’t…he won’t be suffering. If he is alive…it may be to a living hell. I cannot stand all that is going through my mind.”

  “Manny, Mikey is a pretty nice size boy, he is smart, and I honestly believe he is a survivor; he is not a weakling. If he is anything like his father, somehow…he will survive. Because you can either go mad with worry over what you imagine is happening to him, or you can have hope and faith in him to be strong enough to pull himself through. Because as you said, we are out of options, we have no leads or directions left to go on.”

  “That is so easy for you to say. It is not your son!” Manny returned aggressively. “My son should not have to pull himself through anything! He is just a child! He should not have to be forced to be strong! He should be with me, with his father! I am the one to pull him through! I am the one to be his strength! That is my job! I failed my son! I failed him! I swore to protect him! To never let any harm come to him! My son – could not – be sold! He should be with me! He should - he should be…..with me.”

  Charles closed his eyes trying to deal with hearing his friend struggle with tears, as he fought back his own. They had been so sure…so hopeful that the journey would end with Mike back in his father’s protective possession. The silence in the room lingered until Manny leaned against the wall with his fingers interlaced on top of his head. “Now what…here we sit…what happens now…what will we do?” He asked softly, frightened. Charles eyes turned to him, and with his heart pounding in fear for what had to be said, he took a deep breath, blew it out and said, “We go home.”

  Manny shook his head, “Just abandon my son…” Back and forth he shook it repeating. “Just leave him…just like that? No…I can’t…not my son…no.” He ignored his tears, he could no longer bother to wipe them away, he’d shed so many. “He could show up …somewhere…he could…it is possible…and I won’t be here, like – I wasn’t there – when he needed me – no - I can’t just leave him, I’ll never leave him again.”

  “Manny, we’ve been gone from home too long now. It will take us a great deal of time as it is to get back. Sooner or later, we have to stop. You have responsibilities at Webster Fields.”

  “F-u-u-u-u-uck – Webster fields!!! I don’t give a damn – about – Webster Fields!!! To hell with – Webster Fields!! My responsibility – is to – my son first!!! I want – my son back!! I want – my son… my son…” He bellowed and suddenly grabbed the vase with flowers in it next to him, and threw it against the wall. He cried out in a rage and snatched up the table the vase had been sitting on and slammed it against the wall over and over until it shattered into broken pieces.

  Charles dodged him and stayed clear as he went crazy tearing up the room, shouting and cursing the entire time. He’d learned the hard way, when Manny lost it… it was best to leave him to it until he was spent of energy. He wasn’t about to try and stop him, so stood by and let his pain and frustration run its course. The hotel manager began banging on the door. Charles went quickly to it, opening it only a crack, refusing him entry as he explained, noticing other guests gathering at the racket.

  “Everything is alright,” He whispered to him, with the manager trying to see around him. “Whatever the damage, we will pay for it, plus the inconvenience!” Saying no more, Charles shut the door in his face. Standing there, he noticed that Manny began tiring out, staggering and out of breath, he crumbled to the floor on his hands and knees, totally spent. He fell to the side, leaning against the bottom of the sofa he’d flipped over. With his knee up and his forehead leaning to his knuckles, he sat breathing hard and deep.

  Charles came over and sat on the floor next to him. After a few calming moments, he told him softly. “We will stay, one more month. We will notify the sheriff that your son had been kidnapped - you understand…he is your kidnapped son. Do not offer any more information. If nothing happens by then, we go home-…”

  “No.”

  “Yes Manny, we go home…we will hire a professional. We are not cut out for this. We have no true tracking skills. It is out of our hands…we go home…you hear me - we go home.”

  * * *

  Lying on her side in bed, Lena nursed her toddler. Unconsciously stroking the large, silky golden curls on Hope’s head, as she played with her foot; holding it with her little chubby hand, tugging it, then releasing it to fall to the mattress while she suckled.

  Every now and then, she would turn Lena’s nipple loose and look up at her mother, grinning with
milk spilling from her mouth; as if she fully understood the story her mother fell into a habit of telling her. Lena spent most of her time that way, telling her daughter stories; some old ones, and making up new ones. Although a baby, that did not stop Lena from reading to her, or from telling her stories of Mike, and her handsome father.

  Hope was her entire world now, and Lena cared about nothing else save her. All else could go to the devil - her main concern was the time she spent with the only thing there was left of her and Manny.

  “Da-da-da-da-da!” Hope chattered happily.

  “Yes, my precious beauty…oooh, mama loves you so much! Yes I do…you are the most beautiful baby - in all the world! Yes you are…yes…” Lena grinned as Hope babbled on in baby talk. “Now come on finish eating…” Immediately she latched back on; Lena pulled her even closer; satisfied in their little world… unconcerned with the happenings outside.

  Kayleen, as well as Ruby, tried to get her to meet the new overseers and their wives but Lena was not interested in them, or what they were doing. In fact, she’d isolated herself from everyone. Every day, she made a point of carrying on about her business and jobs in the big house, but it became more and more difficult doing so with Hope growing. Mazie watched her in the mornings for Lena; who wrapped her child securely not to be seen by the new people at Webster Fields.