by Vella Munn
Where to find Calida.
* * *
Gaitor waited until the evening meal was over before approaching his chief. He wasn't surprised to see that the clan's Negroes had gathered together and were talking quietly among themselves. If he wasn't so close to Panther, that's where he'd be.
Panther had told him he was going to try to track down the alligator who'd made the signs they'd come across earlier in the day. That meant his chief had gone to what remained of Gray Creek. As Gaitor made his way around the Seminole families grouped throughout the small clearing, he took careful note of their condition. Little Pond had had her baby, but the infant had been sickly from the beginning. Calida, who seemed as healthy as she'd ever been, often cared for the little one while the mother searched for the food she needed to suckle it. He wondered if either the mother or Calida knew the baby was going to die.
None of the other children looked as if they were at the end of their strength. He would have felt better if old Hill Climber hadn't died yesterday and his toothless wife the week before. The Egret clan was tired. Tired and hungry.
The smell of fresh blood told him Panther's hunt had been successful. He slipped around the chest-high ferns that grew to the creek's edge and peered into the dying light until he spotted Panther squatting on the opposite side. He was using his knife to cut open a dead alligator's belly. The creature was small, little more than the length of a half-grown child. Panther gave him a rueful smile. "When I saw the tracks, my mind made them larger than they were. I do not need help bringing this one back."
"That ain't why I's here, Panther."
"You were quiet today. You had much on your mind?"
Panther didn't have to ask that; surely he knew he'd been thinking about what a Creek Indian had told the clan yesterday. "I's wonderin' iffen we can believe the army this time."
"I cannot answer that for you, honton."
Honton. Friend. Was Panther deliberately reminding him of everything they'd been to each other? "Sara wants ta leave."
Panther nodded. Sara, whose master had been going to sell her, had fled in panic a little more than a year ago. Fortunately, she'd come across another escapee who'd planned his flight carefully and knew how to reach the Seminoles. The other Negro had no complaints. Nothing he experienced living with the Seminoles was worse than what he'd left behind. Sara, however, remembered only that she'd once had a cabin to live in, more than the clothes on her back, enough food to feed her belly. She hated snakes and insects, hated eating alligator and turtle meat.
"I cannot stop her," Panther said. "I will not stand before anyone who wants to take the army's offer."
Although he'd guessed Panther would say that, he wished his friend would ask him to stay, thus relieving him of this decision. "You knows why I's here," Gaitor began. "I cain't go back. My master, he'll kill me."
"Yes."
"I never thought there'd be anythin' 'cept livin with Indians fur me. But Oklahoma—it could be safe there."
"It could be."
"Not just for me," Gaitor hurried on. Panther had finished gutting the alligator. He would want to take it back to the clan so they could cook it. "I's thinkin' 'bout everyone here. Maybe 'bout Calida most o' all."
Panther dipped his bloody knife in the creek and washed it with a fern he'd pulled from the bank. "She could breathe free and safe in Oklahoma," he said. "I have given that much thought."
"I'd take care o' her. Make sure she never wants fur nuthin'."
"Yes. You could."
Things had changed between Gaitor and Panther. Although neither of them had said anything about it, he'd seen something in Panther's eyes the day Calida's mother died that he'd never been able to forget. Yes, Panther had felt Calida's grief and had wanted to avenge Pilar's death just as he'd been driven by the need for revenge after his father's brutal killing, but it was more than that. It had been in the way Panther studied Calida that day, the way he still looked at her when he thought no one was watching. Panther and Calida hardly ever spoke to each other and when they did, it was only about what they absolutely had to.
Calida had told him she believed Panther hated her, had hinted she'd done or said something to make Panther feel that way, but Gaitor didn't believe that.
He knew his friend, his brother, too well.
"There's sumthin' else I been thinkin' 'bout," he went on. "You git the runaways out o' here en them slave owners, they ain't gonna care what happens no more. The army won't have their backing no more."
"That is true."
What is it, Panther? Whatever you's thinkin', say it. "I needs to learn more 'bout this so-called offer," he conceded. "I ain't gonna make no decision lessen I knows whether the army's gonna keep their word." He stopped watching what Panther was doing to the knife and studied his face. "I ain't gonna jeopardize Calida."
Panther stood. Water streamed off his naked legs. Crossing the creek with the alligator slung over his shoulder, he laid his hand on Gaitor's shoulder. His eyes, already dark as night, became even blacker. "I will miss you, my brother. You will never leave my heart. But maybe the army can be believed this time and you will truly face freedom. I want that for you."
* * *
Freedom. Panther had grown up believing he knew the meaning of the word. Freedom had a smell, a taste. It lived in an afternoon's downpour, in a purple sky shot through with lightning, in the simple pleasure of fishing or watching butterflies collect on a tree. Being chased by the army hadn't blunted his appreciation of the things that had always been part of his world. He'd wanted to tell Gaitor that Gaitor could still stand proud and safe once he was in Oklahoma, but how could he when he couldn't even imagine what the place looked like?
After placing the alligator before the clan's oldest woman, he went in search of Calida. He found her, as he thought he would, with Little Pond. Little Pond had been carrying her newborn all day. Now she was making herself a meager meal from a turtle and a few roots while Calida sat off by herself rocking, always rocking the unmoving baby.
Leaning down, he ran his finger over the little one's forehead. Its flesh felt dry and limp, the same way Pilar's had.
"There's no hope for it," Calida whispered. She kissed the tiny nose. "It barely has the strength to suckle, and it can't keep anything down."
The baby hadn't been named; Panther didn't know whether Little Pond's uncle intended to give it one at death. He wanted to take it so Calida wouldn't have to continue to cradle what might not see the morning sun, but there was no look of horror in her eyes, only quiet acceptance.
"I am sorry," he whispered. Suddenly more tired than he'd been in days, he sat beside her. She wore her skirt just long enough to cover her thighs so she could move about easily. He'd never seen her legs look so taut, so prepared for the life that had been forced upon them. She was thinner than she'd been when she first came to live among the Seminoles, but her eyes remained bright. "I do not want this for any of my people."
"Am I one of your people, Panther?"
He didn't know how to answer her. In the past, Negroes either lived with Seminoles or they didn't, depending on what they wanted. Now everyone shared the work, the worry, the food-gathering. "You heard about the army's offer?" he asked. "Do you believe what the Creek said?"
"Whether I believe or not doesn't matter. Even if the army does as they say they will, I'll never make it to Oklahoma."
"Because of Lieutenant Croon."
She gave him a rueful smile and went on rocking the baby. The little one looked so peaceful that for a minute he nearly believed what his eyes were telling him. Calida lost her warrior's edge when she was around children. She became a woman, a mother. The woman she'd once been had submitted to her master because she'd had no choice, but that had changed. If Croon ever got his hands on her again, he would have to kill her.
"If the Negroes are gone, you would have less to worry about," she said. "Fewer mouths to feed. Maybe—maybe you think there won't be any reason for the army to chase you i
f slave owners are no longer pressuring the army to return their property to them."
He'd thought about that; he wouldn't tell her otherwise. "We have killed. General Jesup and President Jackson will never forgive or forget that. Neither will those who wish to take over our land."
"No. No, they won't." She folded her slender frame over the tiny one in her arms. "He's going to be safe soon. Safe and free."
She was free but not safe. Knowing he couldn't give her what she most wanted in life became a knife twisting inside him. "Gaitor may leave."
"Gaitor? But he's your brother."
"He is a man who hears promises of a different life. It is something he must think about. I will never stand in his way."
She sighed. The sound hung between them for a moment before drifting off in the breeze. "Listen to the night," she whispered. "Look at the stars. Endless stars. Beautiful. When it's like this, and I can smell food cooking, and I know I don't have to walk any more today, I'm happy."
She looked content. He wanted to tell her that, but words that came without thought when he was talking to anyone else evaporated like the little water left in Gray Creek whenever he was around her.
"What do you want, Panther?"
"Want?"
"Ever since the Creek told us about the army's offer, everyone has been talking about what they should do, what they want to do. At least the Negroes. But what about you? What do you dream about?"
"Yesterday. The world of my childhood."
"Not what it might be like living in Oklahoma, no longer at war?"
"Whites murdered my father, Calida. They turned my clan into frightened rabbits running for their lives. That is what I dream about. The only truth I know."
* * *
Calida wanted nothing more than to forget what Panther had said, but the words refused to leave her mind, her heart. They'd been together day and night since he brought her back to the clan and yet they barely spoke. She sometimes imagined that he was looking at her, but when she studied him to see if that was true, he was always doing something else. Always busy. It was the way she wanted it, she told herself. In a moment of unbearable pain, she'd exposed her deepest emotions, agony that sometimes ate at her soul. She shouldn't have.
That was why she never spoke to him unless she absolutely had to, because whenever she caught her image reflected in his eyes, she remembered the night when he held her and she told him about killing the babies Reddin Croon had put inside her.
She had to stop thinking about herself! Tonight was for Panther, Panther who knew nothing except the burden of keeping his clan safe—and sleeping alone.
Feeling both brave and frightened, she went to where he'd bedded down at the edge of the clearing. The stars reminded her of flickering, darting fireflies, but there was no moon. Still, her body knew where to find him. In her mind she saw him stretched out on a soft mat of leaves and ferns. He wouldn't be asleep yet; maybe he never slept anymore. Master Croon had insisted she keep herself clean for him. She'd never imagined she'd want to groom herself and come willingly to a man, but tonight she did. She didn't ask herself why, didn't dare face the answer.
Or maybe she already knew.
"Panther?"
"Calida."
His voice belonged to this place. It knew how to find wind tunnels not taken up by wilderness sounds so that it came to her clear and honest. Wanting to run, needing to stay even more, she first stood over him and then dropped to her knees in front of him. "I—I can't forget what you said earlier today. I've been thinking..." She should have thought out what she was going to say—maybe she had—but the words had faded the instant she saw his solid outline. "Have you talked to Gaitor again? What is he going to do?"
"He does not know."
Say more than that. Make this easier for me. "I wish I could give you yesterday."
"Yesterday?"
"I asked you what you wanted and you said you wished for yesterday. Your childhood again."
He sighed. She so seldom heard that sound from him. Hurting for him, she nearly extended her hands to him, stopping only because she was afraid of her reaction should she feel his body's heat. "Life was so different when I was a child," she told him. "My mother and I lived on a huge plantation in Mississippi. There were more slaves than I could count. The master and mistress had fine carriages and horses. My mother was a house slave then. It was her job to clean the kitchen. I had no chores. I could do whatever I wanted." She couldn't say why she was talking about this, maybe so he would understand more about her—if that was what he wanted. "The master's dogs were always having puppies. I loved playing with them. While my mother worked, I was looked after by another slave, a huge old woman with arms that swallowed me when she hugged me. For a long time I didn't know what was happening to my mother while she was in that fine house. I remember—I didn't understand why she so seldom smiled or laughed. I thought there could be nothing more wonderful than spending my days in there." Her throat constricted unexpectedly, and she had to work at being able to speak again. "I was so innocent then. So happy. Panther, I know about yesterday."
"It is behind us. We should not think about that time."
Was he right? "But what do we do if there's no promise in today? How do we keep from giving up?"
"That is what you want to do, give up?"
"No. No. But Panther, I have nothing to go back to. Croon will never allow me to go to Oklahoma. This—" She swept her hands in a slow circle to indicate their surroundings. "This is all I have." And you.
He didn't speak.
"Do you want me to leave?" she asked when she could stand his silence no longer.
"No."
"Then—what?"
"I do not know, Calida. I am thinking about what you just said. It makes my heart heavy."
His heart? She'd sought him out because she felt weighed down with the reality of his life. "I don't understand. What—"
"To have nothing except running and hiding is a sorrowful thing."
Hot tears stung her eyes. She should have told him how much she enjoyed the alligator meat, how the stars looked close enough to touch. Those things should come easily from her; that way she wouldn't have to examine the emotions she'd been so careful to keep hidden.
"Do not tell me that you do not think my way, Calida. I do not want lies between us."
No lies between us. But if she told him the truth, he would know she fell asleep thinking about him and that he often followed her into her dreams, commanded them. She would have to tell him she couldn't look at him without being put in mind of a dark and powerful panther. That she needed his arms around her.
"It's all right." She could hardly speak. "Even if I never have a roof over my head again, it's better than what it was when I was with him."
"You have no regrets?"
Not about fleeing her master. "I will never go back; you know that. I'll kill myself before—Panther, I don't want to talk about that."
"What then?"
She wanted to snatch away her words and find safety in inconsequential things, but it was too late. Maybe it had been too late from the moment she started walking toward him.
"I'm part of why you're running," she told him. "If I wasn't with you, Croon wouldn't have spent the summer chasing us."
"You do not know that."
"I do! I know what he's like. Panther, I'm sorry. That's what I wanted to tell you tonight, that I'm sorry."
"That is all?"
No. I want to ask you to touch me, to hold me, to understand I'll never want more than that, but I'm so weary of being alone. I need you to tell me what's in your heart, what your thoughts are as you're falling asleep. Who you think of when you wake. "I owe you, Panther. I have only one way to pay on that debt."
He was once again using silence to force her to expose herself to him. She should tell him she was terrified of a man's body because of what Reddin Croon had done to her, and yet she couldn't look at him without wondering what it would be like to make love
to him.
"If you want me," she whispered. "I will submit."
"Submit? Is that how it would be?"
Thank heavens he hadn't touched her. If he had, she might be incapable of speech. "What do you want me to say?"
"The truth, Calida. Is submission the truth?"
"I—yes."
Silence flowed around them, but this time, she believed, it wasn't because he was in control. Rather, he was trying to find the truth of his own emotions as well as hers. "You do not want to sleep with a man, do you?"
"I—no. I..."
"Go then."
"What?"
"Listen to me, Calida. Listen and believe. My man's body wants you. I will not lie about that. But unless you want the same, I will not touch you."
Chapter 18
The five Negroes who'd decided to accept the army's offer had spent the day collecting their belongings. Now, weighed down with as much food as the rest of the clan could give them, they were ready for the long journey to St. Augustine. The four men and Sara had asked Gaitor repeatedly if he would go with them. He didn't blame them for asking. After all, he understood Piahokee as they probably never would. He could bring down game they'd never see, protect them.
What angered him was that they didn't understand why he'd turned them down. Wishing they'd leave so he wouldn't have to look at them anymore, he picked up his bow and arrow, thinking to spend the remaining daylight hours looking for game. The sky was dark and brooding. The wind had picked up. It was going to rain. After months of nothing but the life-stealing heat. It didn't matter. He needed to be alone.
He hadn't seen Panther all day, not since last night, in fact, when he'd spotted Calida walking toward the tastanagee's bed. A cramp seized the hand wrapped around his bow and forced him to admit how tightly he'd been holding the weapon. If Panther walked into view at this moment, he might bury an arrow in his brother's chest.
Shoving the thought into submission, he started toward the wilderness. He hadn't left the clearing when he heard Winter Rain call his name. Walking heavy-footed, she came toward him. He tried to remember whether she'd been around to watch the Negroes bundle up their belongings but couldn't recall. No wonder; his mind had been on Panther and Calida—of whether they'd spent the night together.
