The Soul Survivors Series Boxed Set

by Vella Munn

  Looking around the crudely built Fort Dade, Reddin forced himself not to think about how many damned useless days he'd spent while first one thing and then the other cropped up to delay the peace talks. Chief Jumper was already here along with Holatoochee, both of them smoking all the tobacco they could get their greedy hands on. Chief Yaholoochee had been spotted less than a mile away. Yesterday a runner had brought word that Panther had agreed to join the others.

  Panther.

  Sweating, Reddin walked to the stable where his saddled horse waited. The Seminoles put great stock in horses. Wasn't that why they'd stolen Liana's? They'd sit up and take notice when they saw him astride the big red stallion. Only, he didn't give a damn what the rest of the Seminoles and their nigger brothers thought, just Panther.

  If Calida had made it, she might be with him.

  The soldier responsible for his horse backed away respectfully and saluted, but Reddin barely glanced at him. It'd been three months since he'd seen Calida, three long, hard months. Yeah, he'd had his way with a couple of his slaves, but they'd been quickies because his damnable father-in-law would have disapproved. Might have cut off his allowance.

  Allowance! The word grated on him like a festering wound, but he wasn't about to turn the plantation—his plantation—over to Isiah lock, stock, and barrel. The money Isiah reluctantly let loose of had made it possible for him to purchase a real horse instead of the burned-out nags that belonged to the army. And although it sure as hell wasn't the same thing, money did some to make up for the loss of female companionship.

  He'd tried to get Calida's mammy to tell him where her daughter had taken off to. If he'd had more time and privacy, he would have worked the truth out of the cripple, but Isiah was always around. He knew better than to arouse Isiah's suspicions, not with Isiah holding the purse strings. If he wasn't careful, Pilar might tell Isiah things that would make him suspect it wasn't the Seminoles who'd killed his precious and ugly daughter. And he was careful. Horny but careful.

  Calida wasn't like those stinkin' field hands he'd been forced to turn to, not by a long shot. She was soft, quiet, intelligent, although that didn't particularly matter to him. Her high-yellow color appealed to him. He still remembered her silky skin, the way she felt under him.

  If she was alive, he was willing to bet a month's pay it was because she'd hooked up with Panther. It had to be that. As far as he knew, Panther's clan was the only one anywhere near the plantation. She sure as hell hadn't been seen around St. Augustine or the forts. He knew because he'd asked.

  Cursing impatiently, he urged his horse to the center of the fort. Logs had been set in a circle for the principals to sit on. Yaholoochee, who would represent Micanopy, had just arrived, but Reddin didn't care. Nothing mattered except catching sight of Panther and wringing the truth about Calida from him.

  Don't make a single aggressive move. He couldn't remember how many times General Jesup had hammered that at the troops. He was sick of it. Just looking at the chiefs with their loud, moth-eaten blankets wrapped around their shoulders like some kind of armor made him want to run a sword into their bellies. A couple of privates respectfully approached Yaholoochee and indicated he was to sit near the other chiefs. As soon as he was seated, General Jesup stepped out of his quarters and, smiling like a damned idiot, ordered fresh tobacco for everyone. Reddin remained on horseback, sweating, ignoring Jesup's pointed glares. The Seminoles were savages, little more than animals. He by god wasn't going to sit down with them.

  General Jesup had been smoking, saying nothing, for maybe a half hour while Reddin's horse moved restlessly under him when a red-faced and out-of-breath guard brought word that Panther was within shouting distance. Teeth clenched, Reddin positioned himself so that he could spot the warrior the moment he stepped inside the fort.

  Panther wasn't alone. He'd brought a half dozen warriors with him, including, damn it, the big nigger who'd escaped from him the same day Panther had. When the nigger spotted him, he stopped in his tracks. Panther glanced over at the nigger, then, sober, did the same. Reddin stared back. He wanted to see fear, respect, something in the chief's eyes, but there was none of that. Instead, Panther's whole demeanor said he would kill him if he could. Thinking about the knife scar in his side, he was forced to admit he'd nearly accomplished it once.

  "I do not want this man here." Panther indicated him. "He put ropes on me and my honton, my friend. I will not sit and talk peace with him."

  "He's simply here as an observer," General Jesup explained, obviously surprised that Panther spoke English as well as he did. "All he'll do is report back to the President."

  "He wants me dead."

  "He isn't armed," Jesup pointed out. "None of us are."

  If Panther believed that, he was a fool. The chief's glare said better than any words that he wasn't. "I tell you this, General. If Reddin Croon kills me, there will never be peace between Seminole and white."

  "There isn't going to be any killing here, Panther. We haven't attacked any of your people since I called for this meeting, have we? What more proof do you need?"

  By way of answer, Panther spoke quietly with the nigger, then nodded at the other chiefs and took his place across from General Jesup. Reddin had to hand it to Jesup. Despite what his detractors—and there were many—said about the man, he knew how to negotiate. A twenty-year-old doesn't join the army with the rank of second lieutenant unless he has impressed folks. Jesup began by telling the assembled chiefs that he was as weary of fighting as he knew they were. The campaign against the Seminoles was expensive. Those back in the capital were putting pressure on him to end the aggression. He agreed, completely.

  What the Seminoles had to understand was that it wasn't possible for them to remain where they were. Ranchers, farmers, and plantation owners considered the land too valuable for that. But the Seminoles were being given something equally good in exchange for allowing themselves to be resettled. In Oklahoma they would be left alone to live as they wished. Although Jesup had never been there, he had it on good authority that the land was fertile, there was no sickly season during the summer, and the winters were mild. It didn't rain the way it did here. There were no alligators or panthers, no swarms of mosquitoes or poisonous snakes. No deadly hurricanes.

  None of the so-called guests said a word.

  Looking decidedly uncomfortable, Jesup ordered his aide to bring him the document that, he said, would demonstrate without a doubt to the Seminoles that the army meant to keep their word. Panther and the nigger exchanged veiled glances.

  Clearing his throat, General Jesup began reading. Because he'd gone over the damned document so many times, Reddin paid little attention. Panther had been at Hatcheelustee Creek; he had no doubt of that. He'd seen the brave standing there arrogant as could be, as if daring him to fire. He hadn't—not because he didn't want the chief's blood spreading over the ground, but because he didn't trust his musket to reach that far. Panther must have known just how close he dared get and taunted him with his presence. Well, it was a different story this time. Panther was inside fort walls. There was no way he could escape.

  Only, General Jesup would find a way to get him thrown out of the army if he killed Panther, no matter how much the savage deserved it. Chewing on his hatred, Reddin kept his gaze locked on the tall, powerfully built brave. Several times Panther looked over at him, his eyes unreadable. What did it matter? The point was Panther was aware of him. Leery of him.

  Good. Let him understand that the next time Reddin Croon got his hands on Panther, there wouldn't be any doubt of the outcome. Only, he wouldn't kill him, at least not right off, not until the savage paid for his arrogance.

  Suddenly, Panther held up his hand, stopping General Jesup in mid-sentence. "I have heard enough. I hear you say many things about what is in the talking leaves, but your words and the truth may not be the same."

  "What are you getting at, Panther?" the general asked.

  "You want us to make our mark which s
ays we promise to abide by everything that is written there. You want us to trust like cattle who believe they are being led to water but may be slaughtered. I say we are not cattle."

  What are you going to do, you ignorant savage? Hold things up while you learn to read? Although he could swear Panther and the nigger hadn't so much as looked at each other, the nigger got to his feet and strode unceremoniously out of the fort. Impatient, Reddin silently railed at his general to insist they get back to peace talks, but when Panther folded his arms across his chest, Jesup sat there like an obedient dog.

  The better part of an hour passed. By then Reddin's horse had fallen asleep. He could jerk on the reins except that awake the stallion was more trouble than it was worth. The damnable heat rained down on him until he felt light-headed. Whisky, he kept telling himself. As soon as this charade was over, he'd have himself all the whisky he could get his hands on. He was so intent on not sliding out of the saddle that at first he paid no attention to the fact that the nigger had returned. Then he saw who was with him.

  Calida. Alive. Walking close to the big black as if coming here was the last thing in the world she wanted to do. Head held too high for a respectful slave. Studying each soldier's face in turn. Finally settling on him.

  He swore he saw a shiver run down her slender frame. Still, there was no look of surprise in her eyes, and he guessed the nigger had already told her what to expect. Even before she reached Panther's side, he understood her role. Liana, damn her, had defied the law forbidding any white to teach a slave to read or write. Even when he'd threatened to tell her father what she was doing, she'd countered by saying that if he insisted on keeping her in that godforsaken wilderness, she was determined to have someone to talk to about books.

  Watching him and not the general, Panther explained that he wanted Calida to read the entire document before anything else was said. The way she stood close to Panther, the way the savage gazed down at her, Reddin knew. Calida had been the one to free him! If they were messing with each other, he'd kill both of them.

  What did he mean, if? The savage was a fool if he hadn't taken her.

  General Jesup turned the document over to Calida with not so much as a never-you-mind. That was the problem with a man who'd never known anything except the army. He didn't understand there wasn't a nigger in the world who was his equal.

  Calida bent her head over the elaborate scroll. Several times she pursed her lips, and once she shook her head. All the time Panther didn't move from her side. Although black as night, she had the straightest hair of any colored he'd ever seen. It flowed over her neck and shoulders in a way that nearly drove him to distraction. She wore some kind of leather shoes and one of those multicolored abominations Seminole women wore. Her arms and legs weren't quite as skinny as he remembered them being, but there wasn't any fat to her.

  Finally he realized what made the difference: She'd developed muscles.

  At length she straightened and glanced up at Panther. He stared back but said nothing. She held the document a few inches farther from her face and read aloud. "The Seminoles and their allies, who come in and emigrate west, shall be secure in their lives and property. Their negroes, their bona fide property, shall accompany them to the West."

  Damn her, out of that whole thing, she'd found what could cause the most trouble. Sounding infinitely patient, Jesup explained that the army was absolutely sincere in assuring the Seminoles that anyone who came in from the wilderness would be assured of safety. "We haven't worked out the logistics of getting you to Oklahoma. You'll be riding of course, but it might take awhile to get enough wagons here for the job."

  "No."

  "No?" Jesup repeated what Panther had just said.

  "I care not whether it is wagons or iron horses. What is this bona fide property?"

  "What belongs to you. I don't know how it could be any clearer."

  Calida laughed, a faint whisper of sound, but there was no laughter in her eyes. When she spoke, Panther bent over her to catch the low words. They talked like that for several minutes while fury built in Reddin until he wasn't sure he could hold it inside. She was his, damn it! He'd bought her. Owned her. Her body belonged to him.

  "I want to hear this from your lips," Panther said to Jesup. "Are the Negroes who live with us our bona fide property?"

  Twice Reddin had stalked out of the general's tent over this insanity about slaves belonging to the Seminoles and not their white masters, but in the end he'd given in because he knew as well as Jesup did that if the clause didn't stay, the Seminoles would never agree to leave Florida. "Let them keep their damn niggers," he'd said just last night. "They're probably ruined for any decent work anyway." That was before he'd known Calida was with the Seminoles. Still, there was more than one way of getting her back.

  Jesup didn't once look at him while he explained that he was committed to upholding every word of the document, most particularly this clause. A relationship of long standing existed between Seminole and Negro, and he wasn't about to complicate peace talks by trying to return the slaves to their previous owners. He had the word of the United States government behind that, he wound up—when Reddin knew he couldn't truthfully make any such statement.

  "If I give a Negro shelter then that Negro is my bona fide property? Are those your words, and the words of your president?" Panther pressed.

  General Jesup nodded. Panther called the rest of the assembled Seminoles along with Calida and the big nigger to his side. They spoke quietly, intently. When they were done, Panther took the capitulation agreement from Calida. He held out his hand and an officer gave him a pen. No one spoke as he affixed his mark to it. The other chiefs followed suit. Reddin swore he could hear General Jesup sigh in relief.

  "Just a minute here!" Reddin bellowed. Kicking the stallion awake, he pushed his way forward until the horse's nose was less than three feet from Panther and Calida. She started to shrink away, but Panther grabbed her arm.

  "This here's my property." He jabbed a finger at Calida. "I want her back."

  "Lieutenant Croon," Jesup warned. "That will be enough."

  "No, it ain't. She's mine. I've got the bill of sale for her right in my belongings. How about it, Calida? You gonna stand there and deny you took care of my wife, my dead wife? That she's the one who taught you how to read?"

  Tension lapped around him like waves from a stormy sea. Still, Panther willed himself not to give into the impulse to squeeze the life out of Reddin. The man was dangerous; he had to remain calm.

  "I thought she was dead," Reddin continued. "She disappeared the same time the Seminoles murdered my wife. I figured they'd gotten her as well. Now I know she went running to them. I want her back. Now."

  "This is not the time or place for this, Lieutenant Croon." The general sounded as if he was within a whisper of losing control. "We have just successfully negotiated a treaty with the Seminoles. That's what matters, not your claim on the girl."

  "The hell!" Croon looked around, obviously trying to solicit support from the troops. "I know what that agreement says, General. I was involved in drafting it, remember. But she doesn't belong to the Seminoles. Never did and never will. And I can prove it."

  No one seconded what Croon had just said. For a moment Panther didn't understand why the soldiers weren't standing behind one of their own. But most of these men were young and weary recruits who wanted nothing more than an end to this war. They were in the army because they had nothing else, no land, no slaves. What happened to Croon's property wasn't their concern.

  But she wasn't his property. She was free.

  Panther stepped forward and took the horse's reins. Reddin tried to jerk free, but he held on. "Listen to me." He spoke not to the slave owner, but to the army leader. "I put my mark to this peace paper because I believed the words of a general. If she is taken from the Egret clan, all Seminole will know the army cannot be trusted."

  Croon cursed and insisted that no one, not even the President of the United
States, had the right to deprive a landowner of his rightful property. The soldiers shuffled uneasily. The other chiefs put down their pipes and made a show of getting ready to leave. Through all this, Calida was the only one who didn't move. Panther didn't look at her, didn't dare, because if she sensed his fear for her, she might try to run. He would not have her pursued by Croon and those he could order to obey him. He would not have her disappear into the wilderness.

  "I grow impatient. She is my bona fide property," Panther said. "She is useful to me because she can read."

  "Because my wife taught her, damn it!"

  Panther ignored Croon. "I will need her in Oklahoma. Without her, I will not go, and if the Egret clan stays, so will others."

  Gaitor muttered something under his breath, but Panther didn't take his attention from the general. Still, he worried that his friend might do something foolish in an effort to protect Calida. "What do you say, General?" he demanded. "Will there be peace, or war because my bona fide property has been taken from me?"

  * * *

  Property. She was his property. Mired in her thoughts, Calida barely noticed what she was doing until Jumper explained that if she followed the path of the setting sun, she would have no trouble finding her way home. She thanked the chief for letting her accompany him and his followers this far, then struck out on her own. With every step she took, the need to make a decision grew.

  Panther and Gaitor had stayed behind. Without giving General Jesup time to confer with his officers, Panther had told everyone that he intended to take news of the outcome of the peace talks to Osceola. As for Calida, she was to wait for him back at the Egret village. Croon was not to follow her. That was why Gaitor had remained at the fort, to make sure Croon didn't leave.

  It had happened so fast. Before she fully understood what was going on, Panther had grabbed her arm and ordered her to follow Jumper. There'd been nothing in his touch or voice to let her know what he was thinking. The fire in his eyes—