by Vella Munn
"He wanted Calida to know where she could find you," he said when Pilar paused for a breath. "You were his bait."
"Yes," Pilar said.
"Mama, you knew what he was doing?"
"Yes."
Calida sobbed deep in her throat and turned haunted eyes on him. He didn't know what to say, could only wait for Calida to tell him what was happening inside her. "Why didn't you run, Mama? Did he keep you tied all the time?"
"No."
"Thank heavens. Thank heavens." She seemed to be trying to comfort herself. "Then—then you were free to move about?"
"Sometimes."
"The Seminoles were free to come and go, weren't they?"
"Yes." Pilar took a ragged breath that ended in a strangled cough. "The army men, they didn' wants to anger the Seminoles."
"The gate was left open?"
"Y-es."
"Do not say it, Calida," he warned. Still, he knew Calida needed to ask her mother certain things and this morning might be all the women had.
"Why didn't you leave, Mama? If sometimes he left you alone and the gate was open, why didn't you run away?"
Pilar's chest rose and fell. It was still for so long that he wanted to press his ear against her breast to see if he could hear her heart. Then her mouth trembled and he remembered to breathe, himself. His hand still rested on Calida's shoulder. He felt her tremble.
"He broughts me there, Calida. He tols me to stay in the tent."
"But you could have left. You—" Calida's voice caught. "Oh Mama, why didn't you run?"
He felt Pilar's effort as she slowly opened her eyes. They focused, briefly, on her daughter's face. "I couldn't."
"I know you were sick and your leg—I understand that. But Mama, freedom..."
Freedom wasn't the only thing Calida was thinking about. If her mother had run, Calida wouldn't have been drawn to the fort, wouldn't have risked her life. Pilar knew that. But for reasons Panther didn't understand, Pilar had remained with Reddin Croon.
"Mama, I'm making it out here," Calida said. Her voice was filled with love, not recrimination. "I'm not afraid. Not afraid of Piahokee anyway."
"P-iahokee?"
"What the Seminoles call the Everglades, Mama. Remember?" She'd been massaging Pilar's wrist and fingers. Now she drew her mother's hand up to her face and gently kissed the palm. "You knew he wanted me to come to him. He was using you."
"Y-es. Calida?" Pilar coughed again, the sound deep and dry. "I was so scared for you. So scared that nuthin' else mattered."
You could have done more than live with fear. You could have found your own freedom. "You're free now, Mama," Calida whispered. She glanced over at Panther. He felt assaulted by the anguish in her eyes.
"Rest, Pilar." Although Calida had already done it several times, Panther brushed the hair away from Pilar's forehead. "Just rest for a while."
"No. No. Where—" Pilar arched her back up off the ground and looked around, although he wasn't sure she saw anything. "Where is we?"
He could tell her that not far from here was a dense grouping of passionflower vines that was home for large, beautiful gold and black butterflies, but that might not matter to her. Surely all she cared about was how far they were from the fort. "Safe," he said finally. "Reddin Croon cannot find you here."
"Safe?"
"Yes, Mama," Calida mouthed. "Safe. You can get well here. He won't ever bother you again. The healer. I'll talk to the healer. He'll come here—Panther can find him and he'll come here—he'll use his herbs and prayers. You'll be fine. Just you see. You'll be fine."
Panther wanted to silence Calida, to comfort her so she wouldn't need to go on lying, but he couldn't take his eyes off Pilar. The older woman's limp body seemed to take on new life. The muscles returned to her shoulders and arms. She looked around her, and the faintest of smiles touched her lips. He was glad it was dawn and that she could see the untold shades of green, dark bark, the tiny frogs and brightly painted snails that clung to many of the trees. He wished it would rain this afternoon so she could watch lightning slash unending paths across a purple sky and feel the energy.
"Calida?" Smiling, Pilar pulled her hand free and pressed it against her daughter's cheek. "You's free, honey. You's free."
"So are you, Mama." Tears spilled from Calida's eyes and dampened Pilar's fingers. "So are you."
He thought Pilar was going to speak. He waited, waited. Instead, slowly, gracefully, the older woman's chest settled down into itself and her fingers slid off her daughter's face.
Chapter 16
She couldn't cry. As unexpectedly as they'd begun, Calida's tears dried. Still, she felt their pressure inside her, wished she could set them free because crying would end the awful pain. Maybe.
Although she knew it no longer made any difference to her mother, she continued to smooth Pilar's eyes and nose, her chin, her slender throat. She couldn't bring herself to touch her head where Reddin Croon had wounded her, but the rest of her mother—the rest of her was still perfect.
"It is all right, Calida," Panther whispered. "She is at peace now."
She didn't want to hear those words, and yet they helped. With every passing second the day became brighter. She wanted her mother to see that. They should have been able to walk through Piahokee together. She'd show her mother where alligators dug their holes, and because the time would be for them alone, because there was no need to run or hide, they'd wait until baby alligators made an appearance. With Panther's help, they'd slip through the dense vegetation to where mother deer hid their young. They'd watch beautiful gold and black butterflies, brightly painted tree snails, newborn anhingas in their nests high in moss-draped cypress, graceful white or red herons. Together they'd learn that there was nothing to fear in the wilderness they'd once been terrified of. Panther would teach them its secrets. Together...
There was no together. Her mother was dead.
"We cannot stay."
Calida hated him for saying that. A moment ago she'd been overwhelmed by gratitude because he'd made it possible for her mother to die free. She wasn't ready to leave this place, wasn't ready to face the world again. Didn't he understand?
"Calida. We must leave."
"No."
Instead of arguing her down, Panther drew Calida away from her mother's body. At first he held her shoulders, watched, waited. When she didn't try to pull free, he began massaging the back of her neck. She felt his thumbs against her spine, the pressure gentle and sure. She didn't believe herself strong enough to stand, and yet her body felt as tight as a sun-hardened vine. She didn't know herself, needed to tap the depth of her emotions so she would understand, was afraid to begin. Panther was making it possible for her to stay with her mother's memory, to breathe without pain slicing through her. There was peace in his hands, peace and understanding.
"She was who she was, Calida." His breath puffed along her hair. "She was born a slave and lived a slave."
No. Don't say that.
"But she did not die alone. Think always of that."
The tears were there, building and boiling, receding sometimes. Just out of reach when she needed them. They would come. She knew that. But for these few minutes before Panther told her to stand, she let him be strong for her. Listened to him and believed.
The jungle was waking up. She heard birds and insects, sensed grass and trees bending under the sun's weight. Piahokee stirred around and inside her. Brought her back to life. With Panther's hands still on her, she leaned down and settled her mother's lids over her eyes. She took Pilar's hands and squeezed them before folding them over her chest. Now her mother looked as if she was sleeping, not dead.
"I won't ask you to take her back with us," she whispered. "It's too far."
He grunted by way of answer, and she sensed he was waiting to see what she would say next. "I want her to be free even in death. Here—I think she would be happy here."
"This is not her place. She was afraid of Piahokee," Panther said.
"But we were together. When she breathed her last, we were together. It will be all right."
"If it is right for you, Calida, that is what is important. We cannot stay. You know that."
"Yes." She kept her eyes on him. "I do."
After a brief period of silence, Panther stood and walked a little way away from Calida. He cupped his hands over his mouth and made a deep coughing sound like that of a bull alligator. A few seconds later, something in the distance returned his call. "Gaitor," Panther explained. "He will come."
Gaitor wasn't alone. When he emerged from the trees, Winter Rain was with him. Calida should have been concerned for the younger woman's safety. Why hadn't she once thought of her? Thinking there must be something she could say, she forced herself to stand and walked over to her. Winter Rain looked down at Pilar and without saying a word gathered Calida into her arms. That was when the tears came again.
* * *
"I can't believe this! I goddamn cannot believe this! All of them. Every last one of those savages."
Reddin shifted his weight, but there was no comfortable place to sit on the log that served as a miserable excuse for a chair. As it was getting light, General Jesup had sent word that he wanted to talk to his officers. Because the general's quarters were barely large enough for his bed and belongings, they'd been forced to gather at one end of the all but empty fort. Several officers were missing, maybe because they were out looking for Seminoles, or maybe because they wanted to avoid their commander's wrath.
"They should have never been allowed to talk among themselves the way they did. If I'd been given the freedom to control them the way I wanted to, none of this would have happened. President Jackson understands the Seminoles. Why he listened to those bumbling fools in Washington—"
Although it was impossible to close his ears to General Jesup's ranting, Reddin didn't try to concentrate on the words. He'd known this was going to happen. Damn it, any soldier who thought savages would allow themselves simply to be led away from land they considered theirs was a fool. Time and time again he'd told Jesup it was a mistake to treat the Seminoles, particularly rebellious chiefs like Osceola, like honored guests. Unless the Indians understood who was in control and felt that control, they would constitute a threat.
How and why the decision had been made for the Seminoles to desert the fort didn't matter. Jesup could spend the next five days laying blame, but it didn't change the fact that the so-called treaty had been broken before it had been given a chance.
It took all Reddin's self-control to remain where he was while Jesup continued his tirade, but he knew better than to risk angering his commanding officer further. Finally, with hesitant suggestions from other officers, Jesup agreed to send out well-armed troops to try to round up what Seminoles they could. As for Jesup, he had a letter to write.
"There's only one thing I can tell the President and adjutant general," Jesup muttered. "That the campaign for Indian migration has utterly failed. All this time, all the plans we made, they've been for nothing."
"Maybe not, sir," Reddin ventured. Calida had been here last night. So had that miserable so-called chief. He had no doubt that keeping Pilar with him was what had brought Calida here. As for Panther—
They would have to wait. "This experiment has taught us a vital lesson," he told the general. "We now know without a doubt that it's impossible to deal logically and honorably with savages. They've had ample opportunity to study the army's strength, and yet they continue to defy us. Any rational and thinking human being, anyone with any intelligence at all, would understand that to defy the army is folly."
General Jesup grumbled something Reddin didn't hear. The other officers, some of whom hadn't so much as opened their mouths before, muttered agreement to what he'd just said. He nearly laughed. How like them to wait for someone else to make a volatile statement.
They'd pipe up when it when it wasn't them putting their reputations on the line.
"They aren't human, General. They're no better than niggers. Animals."
He thought General Jesup might disagree. He didn't blame him. After all, he certainly wouldn't want to have to admit that animals had bested him. "Maybe," Jesup muttered.
"There's no maybe to it, sir. We could go after them and try to get them to agree to another treaty, but what would be the point? We can't trust those savages' words."
"No. Only a fool would do that." Jesup gestured at his aide, who'd been standing nearby. "Our mission is now clear, gentlemen. We have a new and irrevocable official policy. One that I firmly believe will not be circumvented by politicians. It was their decision to send the Seminoles to reservations, not the army's. They've failed miserably."
A minute ago Jesup had said he was the one who'd failed. Reddin wasn't about to point that out to him. Neither, he knew, was anyone else.
"In my official role as head of the Seminole campaign, it is my considered opinion that only a policy of extermination will render Florida safe."
Extermination. Although several officers exchanged uneasy glances, Reddin didn't share their reaction. The Seminoles were nothing more than animals. When a dog turns on its master, that dog is killed. When a panther or alligator threatens a man's slaves, that man orders the creature shot.
The Seminoles were, finally, getting what they deserved.
He stood at respectful attention as General Jesup dictated the message he wanted delivered to Washington. It might take as long as three weeks before the army received any communication back, but Reddin had no doubt that President Jackson, who'd spent his military career battling Seminoles, would concur that extermination was the only way to ensure Florida's safety. In the meantime—
Reddin frowned at the memory of practically having to grovel at his father-in-law's feet in order to get Isiah to let loose of enough money to allow him to purchase his own troop. If the Seminoles hadn't unwittingly helped his cause by stealing a few cattle, he might still be talking himself blue. However, Isiah hated losing anything he'd paid for as much as he hated unhanding a single coin.
The soldiers at Fort Mellon would have precious little to do until they'd gotten their new marching orders. However, not all of them would be content to sit around doing nothing. Many would like nothing better than to take off after the Seminoles, especially if they were paid handsomely.
Pleading the necessity of looking after his belongings, Reddin bid the general good-bye. However, instead of going to his tent, he stared down at the spot where Pilar had fallen. He'd hit her, hit her good, but damnation, she'd stopped him from killing that savage!
A shudder ran down his back at the memory of what Panther had looked like as he charged him. If it hadn't been night and the fort hadn't been full of people, he had no doubt Panther would have overtaken him.
Panther and Calida had been together. That meant he'd been right all along. She was living with the Egret clan, was part of the damnable rebel bunch that had refused to be part of treaty negotiations.
Not caring who saw him, he ground his boot into the earth. He could no longer use Pilar to get to Calida, but maybe it didn't matter. He would soon have the men he needed for a protracted expedition into the damnable Everglades. Once they knew they would be going after Panther himself, he'd probably have his choice of soldiers—at least the ones who could by rights call themselves soldiers.
His mouth fairly watered at the thought of running Panther into the ground. Maybe they'd make him a general then. A general—did he want that? With the need to put his plan into action driving him, he couldn't put his mind to what he'd do when and if the promotion was presented to him. One thing he did know: His relationship with Isiah Yongue would change. Never again would he have to defer to the old bastard.
And he'd have Calida back.
* * *
Calida couldn't remember ever having been this tired. She hadn't done that much today, just walk and then walk some more, but exertion took so much more effort these days. It was the sickly season of su
mmer, and although she'd managed to avoid the fever that had once again taken hold of Osceola as well as several members of the Egret clan, she felt half-sick most of the time.
Nightfall brought little relief. It helped to no longer have to search for shade, but even in the middle of the night, the air still burned. Breathing took so much effort that she could barely stir herself enough to swat at mosquitoes.
Not caring where she landed, she dropped to the ground and leaned against a rotting tree trunk. She heard others talking in low tones. A baby began to cry. The sound was immediately cut off, and she imagined the infant's mother pinching its nose to keep it quiet. That was the worst part. Hard as the constant travel was on her, at least she only had herself to consider.
When something stung the side of her neck, she swatted at it with a heavy hand. She should get up and help the other women prepare the evening meal, but if she waited a few minutes, maybe she'd regain a little of her strength. And if she didn't...
Someone whispered her name. Fighting free of her lethargy, Calida recognized Winter Rain coming toward her. Grunting, Winter Rain dropped beside her. "Have you seen them today?" she asked.
By "them" she knew Winter Rain meant Panther and Gaitor. She shook her head. The two had left yesterday morning; they hadn't returned last night. It wasn't the first time.
Winter Rain pressed a hand to her forehead. "They never rest. They are like hunted animals who care for nothing except staying alive."
Panther hunted? No. He was determined to keep the Egret clan hidden from the army, that was all. "They have a great deal to think about and do."
"I know. I have never done the things I now do every day, never thought we would spend all our time hiding. Running." Winter Rain leaned forward and rested her chin on her bent knees. "When I was born, the Egret clan had so much land. We raised corn and other crops. Unless there was a drought, we had more than we needed. I loved to watch our cattle, especially the calves. I wanted to be a boy so I could protect the calves from wild animals. That was our life then, waiting for new plants to climb out of the earth. Now there is no time to plant or care for cattle. We have no home." Sighing, she looked around. "It is as I said about Panther. The Egret clan has become hunted animals."
