The Soul Survivors Series Boxed Set

by Vella Munn

  It didn't matter. He considered her his property.

  The wilderness squawked and hissed around her. When a brush to her right moved, she knew it wasn't caused by the wind. Trees grew so close here that the sun touched the ground only a few hours a day and it remained swampy. Not long ago just the thought of being out here alone would have panicked her, but no more. Not only had the Seminoles and Negroes shown her that Piahokee provided everything necessary to sustain life, but she'd survived on her own before. She could do it again.

  She wouldn't think about the role Panther had played in her survival. She wouldn't!

  Croon knew she was alive. He'd tried to get her back and had failed. Still, she was sure he wouldn't rest until she was back in his bed. If he was a fool, he might come after her on his own, but Reddin Croon was no fool. He had other ways.

  Ways that might revolve around her mother.

  She had to spend the night at the edge of a hammock and didn't reach the Egret village until late in the afternoon. By then, all she cared about was getting something to drink and eat. The villagers, eager for news about what had happened at Fort Dade, crowded around her. She told them everything she could, all the while looking longingly at a water basket. She was explaining, for at least the third time, that Panther wouldn't be back until he'd met with Osceola when someone gave her a tin cup filled with water. She grabbed it and drank deeply, only then acknowledging the kindness.

  Winter Rain, who'd listened to her every word, handed her a corn cake. "Do you believe the bluecoats' word?" she asked. "Will Panther be safe?"

  The gentle way she spoke Panther's name caught Calida's attention. Winter Rain returned her stare with one that was just as steady, just as intense. Still, her mouth trembled. She loves him. Winter Rain loves Panther. "I pray he is," she whispered.

  "I have listened to what you said. And I am afraid there will be no peace."

  Winter Rain was a child, a girl who knew nothing about the world beyond this isolated village. Only, no matter how much Calida tried to make herself believe that, she couldn't. Winter Rain might be small and slender, but she was old enough to have fallen in love. And wise enough to understand a great deal. "The bluecoats want an end to this fighting."

  "Do they?" Winter Rain challenged. "The leaders are proud and arrogant men. My people have defied them for years. They will not allow any Seminole to escape their grasp. Just as your master will not allow you to remain apart from him."

  She'd spent the night with that thought churning inside her. How dare Winter Rain make her face it again. "The treaty—"

  "Ha! The bluecoats have broken treaties before. So have the Seminoles. Gaitor told me about your master's fine land. Reddin Croon is a powerful man, one who can command others to do as he wishes."

  "What are you saying?"

  Winter Rain stood as tall as she could. Although she was still several inches shorter than Calida, Calida did not know how to dismiss her presence—even if she wanted to.

  "That you should not have come here. That your master will bring many bluecoats here with him, and the blood of our children will flow unless you leave, now."

  Chapter 11

  Calida crouched at the edge of the wilderness and stared through dense foliage at Reddin Croon's plantation. She forced herself to take note of the expanded fields where tiny plants pushed their way to the surface. At this distance she couldn't tell what the plants were, but it didn't matter. She'd come here to get her mother and take her north. That was all she dared think about.

  After too many long minutes of silent watching and listening, she slid to her right until she could clearly see the house where she'd once had to live. She'd burned the cast-off cotton dress Mistress Liana had given her and was now clad in one of her two loose, colorful dresses. This one had long sleeves, which covered her arms and protected them from insects. She'd fashioned the skirt so that it ended at her knees, since one any longer would tangle in the heavy brush. Although she could have made the journey without shoes, she wore leather moccasins because she could run faster in them. She carried a small bundle on her back that contained dried fish and berries and new clothes and shoes for her mother. She also had her knife because that way she could more easily harvest eatable plants. The knife, if she so needed it, would also serve as a weapon.

  Could she kill? A porch had been added to the front of the house. The horse corrals had been reinforced so that one side no longer sagged. Other than that, nothing had changed. One thing—Mistress Liana was dead and Reddin Croon was somewhere with the army.

  Continuing her slow circle of the plantation, she spotted several slaves working just outside the lean-to where harvested vegetables were stored until they could be taken to St. Augustine. Some of the slaves were repairing a wagon. If Isiah Yongue was a wealthy man, wouldn't he have bought a new wagon? But maybe he didn't believe in spending money unless it was absolutely necessary. Maybe that was why he had so much wealth.

  The ways of white men didn't matter. She was here to rescue her mother, to find the Freedom Trail Gaitor had told her about and stop thinking about Panther.

  If anything, the slave quarters looked even more dilapidated than they had the last time she'd seen them. Parts of two roofs were missing, probably from a storm. She didn't need anyone to tell her that Isiah Yongue didn't care about his slaves' comfort. Anger coiled into a knot inside her. A few months ago it would never have occurred to her to be angry at a white man, because she'd been too afraid of them for that. But she'd tasted freedom, knew what it was to make her own shelter and search for her own food. She wasn't some animal living only for her master's pleasure, and neither were the other Negroes.

  Only, how could she give them the freedom she'd found? She couldn't, she admitted. She could only rescue her mother.

  Pilar lived alone in a cabin near the edge of the clearing. In the past, Calida had wished her mother lived in the middle of the slave quarters because that way she wouldn't hear so many of the terrifying sounds that came from that dark and frightening place, but Piahokee no longer frightened her.

  Piahokee. Panther had given her that word.

  Fighting free of thoughts of him, she willed herself to wait. This morning she'd rubbed crushed ghost-orchids over her arms and legs and neck to kill her scent and make her more a part of Piahokee in case Isiah Yongue had brought hunting dogs with him, but she knew better than to draw attention to herself in any way. Patiently, she waited.

  An hour later, she left her shelter and slipped, using the shadows, to her mother's shack. In that time she'd learned that all the field hands were at work and the Negro woman in charge of the children had taken them to the road leading to the plantation. All but those too young to do anything except toddle carried cutting tools. Obviously, they'd been instructed to attack the vines and brush that constantly threatened to cover the muddy ruts.

  She hadn't seen her mother.

  Fear had an acid taste, which clogged her mouth and throat. There'd been no movement from her mother's cabin. If Pilar was dead—

  Breathing deeply through her mouth and nose, Calida crept closer until she could look in the small opening that passed for a window. It was so dark inside that she wondered if daylight ever reached that tiny space. She turned her head first one way and then the other as she strained to catch any sound. She heard or imagined she heard breathing. No one spoke. No one walked about. Moving carefully, she rounded the corner and closed her hand over the frayed rope that served as a door handle. Her fingers tightened, but for several seconds she couldn't make herself pull. Her hard heartbeat reminded her of a bullfrog's courting sound. She needed to hear her mother's voice, to assure herself that she was all right and that no one was with her. She didn't want to be alone in this. She needed Panther. Panther, who feared nothing.

  Finally, because she had no choice, she tugged on the rope until she'd produced a narrow opening and slipped inside. The cabin felt cool in contrast to the hot, humid day. Still, heavy, damp air had found its wa
y through the rough walls. She waited for her eyes to accustom themselves to the gloom, breathed deeply again, and tried to find her mother in the smells that reached her. There was something, a presence. A quiet and gentle presence.

  "Calida?"

  Relief spread so quickly through her legs that she nearly collapsed. The harsh whisper came from the far corner of the room, where Pilar had made herself a bed from cast-off blankets and sacking. "Ma-ma? How are you?"

  "Fine. Fine."

  She wasn't fine, but then they both knew that. Hurrying over to the small mound, she dropped to her knees and pulled the too-frail figure to her breast. Her mother wasn't supposed to feel like an old woman. "What is it? Please, what's wrong with you?"

  "You's alive. Praise the lord. You's alive."

  Her mother hadn't known whether her daughter had survived the journey into the wilderness. Was that what had sickened her? Feeling so guilty that she wanted to scream from it, Calida sobbed into her mother's thin shoulder while Pilar's frail body shook with tears of her own. She had no idea how long they clung to each other, how long it took to put the past few months behind them. Finally though, her back protesting from the effort of holding her mother, she gently laid her back on her bed. To her relief, Pilar sat up. "You's here. I nevers—I tols myself I was never gonna see you again and that it din matter as long as you was alive. But my heart wouldn't listen."

  My heart wouldn't listen. "Mama, what's wrong with you?"

  "I'm gettin' old, child."

  "No you aren't! You're young. You—"

  "What are you doin' here? Did he grab—"

  "No. No one knows I'm here."

  "Then why?"

  Didn't her mother know love had brought her here? She'd tell her everything in a minute, but first she had to hear her mother's voice, to pretend that it was strong again. Wondering who was the mother and who was the child now, she ordered Pilar to tell her what was wrong with her. Swamp sickness, Pilar said, shrugging. "The midwife's been here. She says it ain't nuttin' but this damnable swampland's gettin' to me. There ain't nuttin' she can do fur me."

  "Mama?" With an effort, she kept her voice low and calm. "I was more dead than alive when I reached the Seminole village. I didn't care whether I lived or died, I was that far gone. No, it's all right," she assured her mother when Pilar placed a trembling hand on her cheek. "I'm all right. Stronger than I've ever been. I'm not afraid of Piahokee anymore."

  "Piahokee?"

  "Everglades. The Seminoles have healers, men and women who know which plants and herbs cure sicknesses." She clasped her mother's hand, careful not to hold it too tightly. If she took her back to Panther's village, Croon might find her there and exact his revenge—not just on her, but on the entire clan. But if she didn't do this, would her mother die? "They can help you."

  "No, child."

  "You don't know that. You haven't seen what they're capable of."

  "That's not what I's talkin' bout, girl. Tell me, what'd you come here for?"

  "To see you. To make you free."

  Fear contorted Pilars gentle features. "I tols you not to ever come back. That the only way you gonna live is by stayin' wid the Indians."

  "I couldn't do that. Mama, I love you."

  "Ah, girl. If I was dead, you'd be truly free."

  If you were dead, I'd have no one. "Don't talk like that, please. I'm not sure how long it'd take. Probably three days." Or longer if you're too weak. "But I know the way to one of the villages. They'll take care of you. Make you well."

  Tears pooled in Pilars eyes. Again she pressed her dry, too-hot hand against Calida's cheek. "I cain't, Calida. Don' you see that? I cain't."

  * * *

  The village felt different, as if something was missing from it. Determined to learn what that was, Panther strode into the clearing. He was immediately surrounded by clan members eager for information. Taking advantage of his height, he looked around for Gaitor but couldn't find him. There was no sign of Calida either. Because he knew how important his information was for the tribe, he forced himself to give them a thorough explanation of what had happened since he left Fort Dade. It had taken him the better part of two days to reach Osceola's village. Several lesser chiefs had been with the Seminole leader, all of them eager to hear what had happened during the treaty talks and to watch Osceola's reaction. At first Osceola had maintained that the Seminoles would honor their agreement to leave their ancestors' land, but in private, he'd told Panther that he didn't trust the bluecoats' word. It would, therefore, take the Seminoles a long time to get ready to leave—time that would allow them to watch and learn.

  Panther told his tribe nothing about that private conversation, but then he didn't need to because only a fool would believe the enemy now spoke with an honest tongue. Maybe the Egret clan would indeed leave the village for unknown land to the west, but if they did, it wouldn't be for a while.

  Once he'd satisfied the others' curiosity, he asked about Gaitor. No one had seen him. For all they knew, the Negro was still at Fort Dade. "I will go there tomorrow," Panther announced. "I must see with my own eyes that he is well and safe."

  Two of the younger braves offered to accompany him, and although he could travel more swiftly alone, he told them to be ready to leave at daylight. If Gaitor had been imprisoned, he would need help.

  Only when he announced that he was hungry and tired was he left alone. He wanted to ask about Calida, but if anyone knew where she was, they would have told him. Their silence meant only one thing. The brave and beautiful runaway was no longer among the Egret clan. Feeling old, he stepped inside his chickee. His bed called to his weary body, but he knew sleep would evade him. Someone had placed fresh water and food on one of his two shelves. He picked up a corn cake and popped it into his mouth, thinking not about who had done this for him, but that Calida had learned to slowly work moisture into dry cornmeal until it stuck together and could be carried wherever a person went.

  A prickling along his spine caused him to turn around. For a moment, he told himself that the figure standing in the sun was Calida. She'd waited until he was alone, come to him alone. Then Winter Rain told him she had placed the food and water there while he was talking to the others. She hoped her gift pleased him.

  "Thank you."

  "It is so good to see you, Panther. I feared for your life."

  Feared? Not sure how to respond, he turned his attention to the food. After drinking his fill, he took another bite. Winter Rain hadn't moved. He'd occasionally seen Calida and Winter Rain together. Calida might have confided in Winter Rain in the way women sometimes did. "When did she leave?" he asked.

  "Calida?" Winter Rain shrugged. "Three, maybe four days ago. When I got up one morning, she was gone."

  "You do not know where she went?"

  "The runaway does not tell me what is in her mind, Panther. She took of our kindness. The healer gave her back her life, and in turn she left. I do not concern myself with one who does not belong. I would think you would do the same."

  He wished he could. At the moment he wished he had never seen her. But he had, and he couldn't stop the questions ricocheting inside him. He tried to go back in his thoughts to that day at Fort Dade, but so much had happened since then that it was difficult. She'd been afraid, and he didn't blame her. After all, Reddin Croon had been there. Was that it? She'd been so afraid that she'd been incapable of thinking of anything except hiding from the man?

  "She said nothing to you? You are certain of that?"

  "Panther, she is not worthy of you. I—"

  A shout of greeting cut through whatever Winter Rain had been going to say. The sound swung them both around, and to his great relief, Panther saw that Gaitor had just entered the clearing. He hurried to his friend's side and clamped his hand on his shoulder in greeting. Drying sweat clung to Gaitor's dark body, and he breathed rapidly. "Tell me," Panther insisted. "What have you seen?"

  "Slave owners!" Gaitor spat. "Their smell fills the air 'til I thi
nks I be sick."

  "Slave owners? What are they—"

  "Gives me a minute." Gaitor leaned forward, planted his broad hands on his knees. "I's gettin' too old ta be runnin' like that. General Jesup, he done changed his mind. Them white men, they been railin' at him till there was nuthin' fur him to do but 'gree with em."

  "Agree about what?" Panther asked although he already knew.

  "Runaways." Gaitor swept his eyes over the Negroes crowded around them. "Jesup, he says iffen a man can prove a slave b'longs ta him, then he's 'titled ta him. It don' matter none how long a darkie's been with the Seminoles, he's got ta go back."

  A man cursed. A woman sobbed and clutched her child to her breast. Even the Seminoles who for the most part let the Negroes go their own way muttered that they'd known the army leaders couldn't be trusted. Despite his rage at having been deceived, Panther agreed. However, at the moment all that mattered was that Calida wasn't here. Reddin Croon couldn't get his hands on her.

  Unless—

  "Did General Jesup say whether he would help the slave owners get back their property?" he asked.

  "They wanted him to, but he said that ain't no business o' the army. I thinks I thinks he wants to wash his hands of the whole mess, but he cain't. What he says is when the Seminoles come to turns themselves in to be taken to the reservation, that's when white folks can claim what's theirs."

  "And if the Seminoles reject the peace plan?"

  "Then there's gonna be more fightin'. You knows that, Panther. Jesup says he wants to talk to all the chiefs again."

  "Does he think we are dogs waiting to do as he commands?"

  That made Gaitor laugh. "I don' ask him. Let him find that out on his own."

  Panther agreed. However, he was only one chief. No matter how tired he was, no matter how much he wanted to find Calida, he knew what was expected of him. The other clan leaders would be joining Osceola as soon as they heard that the bluecoats had gone back on their word. He had no choice but to return to his chief. He told Gaitor that. Then, not caring who else heard, he told him that although Reddin Croon might try to find the Egret clan's village, it wouldn't do him any good because Calida wasn't here.