Jim slowly rose, watching them warily.
“Who’s your master? Who owns you?” Bates asked.
“Mastuh Toole. Hank Toole,” Jim answered, his voice squeaking with fear. “He runs the supply boat… the Jasmine. It got wrecked in the flood, and I think he—” Jim looked around in the woods, debating whether to tell the truth about the big Indian and the white girl. Maybe they wouldn’t believe any of it, and if they didn’t, they would say he had killed Hank Toole. Maybe Hank’s body would be so battered by the flood when it was found that no one would realize he had been stabbed. Maybe the body wouldn’t even be recognizable. “I think he must be dead,” he continued. “The flood, it was a terrible thing! It throwed me right off the Jasmine—I worked the boilers for Mastuh Toole. I got throwed into the river, and next thing I know, the Jasmine she’s rippin’ loose from her ties and crashin’ downriver.”
Bates stepped closer. He raised his musket sideways and rammed it against Jim, shoving him back against a tree. Jim grunted from the blow, his breathing coming quicker from fear and pain.
“How are we supposed to know you’re tellin’ the truth?”
Jim swallowed, searching the white man’s eyes. “You check,” he said, near tears. “You go on back there. You’ll find out the Jasmine is all wrecked! The Good Lord only knows what happened to my mastuh! I’m tellin’ the truth, mistuh! I didn’t know what to do after that. I been scared somebody would find me and think I was runnin’, just like you is thinkin’. But I ain’t runnin’, mistuh. I just didn’t know where to go or who would believe me! Ain’t nobody gonna believe a slave! You go see! You go see!”
“The river is miles from here,” another spoke up. “How long ago this happen?”
“Don’t know for shuh,” Jim answered. “Three… four days. Bad flood.”
“Three or four days? How you been eatin’? You been stealin’ off our farms?”
Jim’s eyes widened again. “No! No, I done lived on berries and such, mistuh. I didn’t steal off you people, I swear! And I wasn’t runnin’ away! I was just afraid to go to a white man’s house and try to explain.”
“Sure,” Bates said, nodding. “And I suppose you would have conveniently avoided every settlement along the way for that very reason—all the way north!”
“No! No, suh!”
Bates sighed, stepping back. “We better check out his story. We either got a runaway here, whose master should know—or he’s tellin’ the truth, which means we gotta figure out what to do with him.”
“I ain’t got time to go runnin’ south to see what’s happened with the Hiwassee or this man’s owner,” the second man answered. “Lord knows I ain’t got the money to be ownin’ slaves, so I don’t much care about the affairs of them rich folks who do.”
“Well, you should care,” Bates answered, looking Jim over and grinning. “Might be a tidy reward for bringin’ this man back. Them slave owners put a lot of store in their property.”
“I never thought of that,” the third man put in. He poked around Jim’s arms and shoulders. “This man looks healthy and well fed. He ain’t been abused. Maybe he has one of them owners that pays for the best and pays good for them that’s returned to him.”
“I tol’ you, suh, my mastuh is dead! They ain’t no place to take me.”
Bates rammed his gun butt into Jim’s ribs, causing the slave to sink to his knees. “You’re talkin’ out-of-place!” He looked at the other two. “What if he’s tellin’ the truth?”
The third man shrugged. “Well, maybe somebody else would know. If we take him to some big plantation and tell them about it. Maybe we’d still get some kind of reward, or they’d buy him from us.”
“What did you say your master’s name was, boy?” Bates asked.
Jim held his ribs, sucking in his breath. “Hank… Toole. He done… owned a steamboat… called the Jasmine. He run it… up and down the Hiwassee… tradin’ supplies with mountain folks. They was… a big flood. You’ll see if you go there. Folks up here, they’ll… hear about it soon enough. I got… washed ashore. The Jasmine… it was wrecked. I… I seen my mastuh go down,” he lied, praying Hank Toole would be thought drowned and there would be no more explaining to do.
“Probably right about the flood, Bates,” the third man said. “We’ve had so much rain the crops are about ruined.”
Bates nodded, studying the black man before him. “Where did the Jasmine hail from?” he asked. “This Hank Toole, he must have called someplace home.”
Jim slowly got to his feet. “Knoxville. He… docked there a lot. I done lived… on the boat. I never went into that big town with Mastuh Toole. I dunno who he go see when he go on shore.”
“Knoxville.” Bates rubbed his chin. “That’s a long ways away.”
“Not an easy trip if there’s been a bad flood,” the first man put in. “Count me out. I got my farm to think about.”
“Well, all that rain just about ruined me,” Bates answered. “You can stay and try to save that mess, Chadwick, but I think our best chance for makin’ any money this year is maybe gettin’ paid for returnin’ this slave here.”
“I’m for that,” the third man added.
“Come on,” Bates told Jim. He waved his musket. “You come with us.”
Jim shook with fear and hunger. “Where you takin’ me?”
“Back to where we live. Got to stock up on supplies before we go.”
“Watch him, Bates,” Chadwick told the man. “He’s built pretty good.”
“His hands will be tied the whole way,” Bates answered. “You’d best be tellin’ the truth, else you’ll be in a powerful lot of trouble,” he said louder to Jim.
Jim breathed deeply to quell his fears. What if people figured out Hank had been stabbed? Who was left who knew Hank had a white girl along? Even if all of that worked out, where would he be taken? Hank had been decent to him, and he had liked working the river. He could end up with a much crueler master, working in the blazing heat of a cotton field.
Tommy picked through what was left of the cabin he had shared with his father. Where the man’s body had been swept to was anyone’s guess. Smoke was gone, too. The few surviving settlers of the now-vanished MacBain settlement straggled back to see what they could save. Some bodies were found nearby, some found snagged in trees and brush, some with hands or feet sticking out of the mud.
Tommy realized with irritation that he might have to spend the next few days helping the survivors find loved ones and getting them buried. New supply boats would surely be along soon, coming in from other villages and from bigger cities farther downriver that might have been spared. He hoped more help would come soon, for he was already getting sick of the mess and the smell of death all around.
As soon as he could, he would get enough supplies together and find a horse so that he could ride away from this place. There had been little enough here before to interest a young man of his energies. Now there was even less. His father had been one of the few reasons for staying in the little settlement. Now it was time to do something more exciting.
“Tommy!”
The young man turned to see one of his friends approaching. “Deek! Deek, I thought you were drowned.”
Deek was nineteen, a lanky but strong young man who had ridden with Tommy on many Cherokee raids. He greeted Tommy with a wide grin, standing even taller than Tommy when he reached him to embrace him for a moment. “Hell, I’m too damn tall to drown!” the young man answered.
Tommy laughed, letting go and standing back to look him over. Deek’s sloppily cut, shaggy blond hair lay in jagged hunks about his head and face.
“Pa and me both made it,” he said. “Ain’t this a hell of a mess, Tommy? I bet you never thought anything this wild would happen to us. Did Smoke get through it all right?”
Tommy’s smile had faded. “No, Deek. My pa didn’t, neither.”
Deek sobered. “Sorry, Tommy.” He glanced over at a dista
nt rise where the houses showed the signs of high water but were not washed away. “We saved our house and some food and things. Come on home with me. We’ll put you up.”
Tommy looked out over the ruined town. “Well, maybe for a while. But I’m headin’ for Knoxville soon as I get things together. You want to come along, Deek? There ain’t nothin’ left here for us now.”
“Knoxville?” Deek frowned. “Why Knoxville?”
Tommy turned, grinning. “For the excitement, you dunce. And for Emma Simms.”
“Emma?”
Tommy rolled his eyes. “Don’t you remember? Hank Toole bought her and took her there—at least that was what my pa said he was supposed to do when he went back downriver from here. If she’s there, I’m gonna go and pay the price to sleep with that uppity brat! If you got any brains, you’ll come with me. There ain’t nothin’ left here for us, Deek. We gotta go where we can have us a good time.”
Deek looked out over the devastated settlement. “It’s a thought. I kind of hate to leave Pa right now, though, with all this mess. These people are gonna need help, Tommy.”
“Let them help themselves. Riverboats will come along with new supplies. We can’t stay here forever like they have, Deek. Look at them—been here all their lives and their mas and pas before that. And this is what they get for it, everything they worked for washed away.” He looked into the trees to his left. “My own pa is there somewhere. His payment for stayin’ around here was death.”
“You’ll want to come back, too, Tommy.”
“Maybe.” He sighed deeply and shook his head. “I sure miss Smoke, poor thing.”
Deek stared at him, wondering that he didn’t even mention missing his father. “How did you save yourself, Tommy?”
“I don’t even know. I remember hangin’ on to things, then touchin’ ground. Then I just started crawlin’, up and up.”
Deek looked out over the ruined settlement, watching people wander about, picking up things here and there. He could hear women crying softly.
“Ain’t it somethin’ how fast the water goes back down, Tommy? What’s it been, five, maybe six days? Where you been, anyway?”
Tommy ran a hand through his hair. “I kept goin’ that night—run upon another settlement. Some folks gave me some clothes, food. I stayed on there. Couldn’t bring myself to come back right away and see all this, maybe find Smoke layin’ all dead and bloated. Some people put me up.” He pointed. “That’s them down there. The man and his son, they came back with a wagonload of supplies to see if they could help.”
Tommy thought about the man’s daughter. He had raped her in their barn, telling her that if she screamed, he would tell them she had invited him there. His threats had been enough to keep her quiet and make her obliging. He had hurt her, he could tell. He liked the power he had to hurt women, liked the glory of conquering them. And he was sure that after a bit she had liked it. Emma would learn to like it, too. He smiled and turned to Deek.
“Come to Knoxville with me, Deek. We’ll look up that Tennessee Belle saloon and put down some money for Emma Simms. She’s the prettiest girl ever lived in these mountains and you know it. Wouldn’t you like a turn at her? And wouldn’t you like to see Knoxville?”
Deek shrugged. “I reckon. But how do you know she even made it? That was a bad flood, Tommy. The Jasmine might have been wrecked. That girl might be dead.”
“Well, we’ll find out, won’t we? On the way downriver we can check around. It will give us somethin’ to do.”
Deek kept watching the activity below. People trudged through ankle-deep mud, and someone was dragging a dead body to a spot where others had been stacked for burial. It would be a long time before this settlement was back to normal, if it ever would be. And what would there be to do in the meantime? The spring planting was ruined and the ground was still too wet to replant.
“Okay,” Deek answered. “Maybe my pa will want me to get some things for him in Knoxville. We saved our horses from the flood. You can borrow one if you want. I don’t really look forward to hangin’ around here and listenin’ to women cry and smellin’ death. You think Knoxville was hit, too?”
“Could be. But it’s a lot bigger. The flood couldn’t have got all of it. I always did want to see somethin’ bigger than Calhoun.”
“Me, too.”
Tommy turned and they shook hands. “From backwoods Cherokee girls to the painted women in Knoxville,” Tommy said. “I wonder if the whiskey there tastes any better?”
“Or if the girls feel any better?”
They both laughed, heading for Deek’s father’s cabin.
“I wonder if Emma really made it to Knoxville,” Deek said, walking in long strides on stringy legs, his blond hair flopping over his eyes. “I can’t picture her bein’ willin’ about goin’ there.”
Tommy chuckled. “Me neither. Either Hank spun her a good tale, or he had one hell of a fight on his hands. I never could talk that girl into lettin’ me under her skirts.”
“Hey, Tommy.” Deek stopped walking. “What do you think happened to that River Joe? You think he survived the flood?”
Tommy’s blue eyes turned to ice. “Let’s hope not. But if he did, I’d sure like to run into him again.”
Deek noticed Tommy’s chin was still black underneath his stubble, and when he smiled there were purple marks on his gums. “What do you think about him and Emma? You think he really knew her? Talked to her?”
The look in Tommy’s eyes gave Deek the chills. “Maybe more than that. He had that look on his face that night, you know? Like he had some kind of victory over me.”
“Would you face him down if he ever came back around here?” Deek asked.
“Sure I would.”
“He’s awful big and strong, Tommy.”
Tommy turned, grabbing Deek’s arm and shoving him around. “Well, so am I!” His eyes were wild and he gritted his teeth. “I was just drunk that night. That’s why he got the better of me!”
“All right! All right! What’s wrong with a friend lookin’ out for a friend? And don’t forget that big knife of his.”
“I ain’t forgettin’ nothin’—‘specially not him talkin’ about Emma. He had no right talkin’ familiar about her. Only trouble is, he probably won’t ever come around here again, after what happened.”
“Well? He lives up in the mountains with them Cherokee, don’t he? Maybe we’ll have to do some raidin’ again up there sometime. Got to do our duty riddin’ Tennessee of them bastards, don’t we? Maybe we’ll run into him that way.” Deek rubbed at his arm where Tommy had let go of it.
Tommy grinned again, and Deek marveled at how quickly Tommy Decker’s mood could change. “Maybe,” Tommy answered. “And then we could tell him about Emma Simms, how she’s doin’ in Knoxville. And if there’s enough of us, we could teach that River Joe a right good lesson.”
Deek grinned then. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of this stinkin’ mud and away from all this death. Let’s go to Knoxville. Your idea sounds better all the time, Tommy.”
They headed for Deek’s place, Tommy again lamenting the loss of Smoke. Just a few feet from the foundation of Tommy’s cabin, Jake Decker’s hand protruded from the mud, sticking up as though to beckon his son to come back and give him a proper burial. Tommy did not notice. There was no time for any more searching. He was anxious to get to Knoxville, and to Emma Simms.
The Hicks settlement was bustling with activity when River Joe led his pack horse down the muddy street lined with log buildings. A few wagons lumbered past him, heavily loaded with food and other goods. Their drivers seemed to be in a hurry, but they could not go very fast because of the mud. The heavy rains had taken their toll even on villages that were not near the river.
River Joe headed up to a supply store, dismounted, and tied his roan gelding. A few people looked at him cautiously and moved away, but one man hollered out to him, “Joe! River Joe!”
R
iver Joe turned to see the man who owned the local livery. The Hicks settlement was bigger than most villages this deep in the mountains, with a livery, blacksmith, two supply stores, several saloons, a clothing store, and a little church that also served as a school. River Joe had come through here many times, discovering the people to be somewhat friendlier than at most settlements but still sensing a good deal of animosity in most of the citizens.
“You hear about the flood?” the livery owner asked, panting after running to catch up with him. “It was terrible!”
River Joe frowned. “No,” he lied calmly. “I heard of no flood. I have come from the settlements along the Hiwassee, though. The river was getting very high.”
“Well, you must have left just in time. A few days ago the Hiwassee flooded somethin’ awful. Most folks in the other settlements in these parts don’t even know about it yet, although with all the rain we had, we suspected. Some kid from a farm down along the Hiwassee managed to ride up here and tell us so’s we could get some help down there fast.” He nodded toward the disappearing wagons. “Them wagons is headed down to help. It was awful bad, I hear—whole settlements wiped out. We sent riders to some of the other settlements to tell them to go down and see what they can do, too.”
River Joe wondered about Luke Simms and Tommy Decker. It would be no great loss if they had died in the flood. He nodded to the man. “No surprise, with all this rain. You think there are any supplies left here for those who need them?”
“Hard to say. They’re gettin’ low. You sure are lucky you left when you did. You headin’ back up to your people?”
River Joe watched his eyes. No. This man knew nothing about his scuffle at the Gillmore settlement or the trouble at the MacBain village.
“In time. I am in no hurry. The hunting was not so good this spring. I am going to do more before I go back.”
“Well, good luck to you. I just wanted to find out if you knew anything more about the flood. I reckon I’ll go down myself and see what I can do for those good people.”
River Joe shook the man’s hand and headed into the supply store. He still felt anger over being cheated by Hank Toole. He would not have much to bring to his sisters and brother and father this time. He would be short on flour, material, sugar, coffee, everything. There simply was not enough money this time to buy what was needed.
Tennessee Bride Page 14
