Legacies

by Janet Dailey

  Jed hesitated a split second, his glance darting to Will Gordon and sliding away just as quickly. "Approximately a week, yes."

  The hesitation coupled with the inadvertent glance at his grandfather made Lije suspect that Jed Parmelee might have another purpose for coming here. "I am curious, Captain— where is your uniform?"

  "Packed away for the time being."

  "Given the outbreak of hostilities, isn't it unusual for an officer to be granted a furlough at such a time?"

  Jed looked at Lije with new respect and a glint of admiration. "It would be—if I were on furlough.'* "But you're not."

  "No. I was sent here. Unofficially, of course," Jed added, then directed his explanation to Will Gordon. "We know the Confederacy has made overtures to the five civilized tribes with the hope of persuading them to make an alliance with the South. I am here to determine, if possible, the position the Cherokee intend to take in the coming conflict."

  For a long moment, silence ruled the group. The Blade leisurely tapped the ash from his cigar onto the lawn, apparently indifferent to the glaring look Kipp sent him. But it was Will Gordon's reaction that Jed was most interested in.

  "Our Nation has a treaty with your government." Will chose his words with care. "We intend to adhere to it. Chief John Ross has stated on numerous occasions that he desires to have the Cherokee Nation remain neutral."

  A short, contemptuous sound came from The Blade. "The man is a weather vane. As usual, he waits to see which way the wind blows."

  "What do you mean by that?" Jed threw him a sharp look.

  "He means"—Kipp spoke up instead—"that Pike has promised Stand Watie a commission in the Confederate army and has offered to supply the necessary arms and ammunition to outfit a regiment for Watie. I believe The Blade returned so quickly from his recent trip so he could join the regiment Watie intends to form."

  The Blade ignored the accusation. "Neutrality is impossible, Captain. You know that or you wouldn't be here."

  Diane frowned, a hint of alarm in her expression. "Why is it impossible?"

  "Because the Union states of Kansas and Missouri lie north of us," Lije replied. "The rebel states of Arkansas and Texas occupy the land to the south and east. Already the Choctaw^ Chickasaw, and Creek Nations have expressed a willingness to make an alliance with the South. The Cherokee Nation is fast becoming an island in the midst of a Confederate sea."

  "But where do your sympathies lie?" Jed pressed.

  The Blade held up a hand to stave off the question. "Before I answer that, let me ask you a question, Captain."

  "Very well." He nodded.

  "Our treaty with your federal government calls for protection. Where are your troops? Texas forces hold all military outposts in the territory except for Fort Gibson, which is still in the hands of the Cherokee. How do you propose to defend us should the rebel army invade?"

  It was one of the questions Jed had dreaded. "We can't at the moment. We don't have sufficient forces to send. But we will."

  "In other words, your government has abandoned us."

  "That isn't true." But, in essence, it was, and Jed damn well knew it.

  "Let me remind you of something else, Captain," The Blade continued. "We have long been a nation of slaveholders. And the intent of your war is to abolish slavery."

  "If there is a major conflict, it will be waged to preserve the Union. The president has no authority to abolish slavery. Nor does he wish to do so, as he has stated repeatedly." But that long-used argument had already proved itself futile when the Southern states seceded. Jed tried another tack. "I can't believe the Cherokee will align themselves with the South. Have you forgotten the way your people were treated by the Georgians?"

  "I haven't forgotten," The Blade told him. "Neither have I forgotten the events that led up to it, including your President Jackson's stated intentions of removing all Cherokee to lands in the West. And I heard an echo of those same words from your current administration in a speech that contained the statement, 'The Indian Territory south of Kansas must be vacated by the Indian.'" He paused for effect "It seems, Captain, that we are expected to abide by the terms of our treaty with you, yet you are allowed to ignore them at will. Rhetoric no longer impresses us, Captain. Only action does."

  "Action," Kipp snarled from his side of the group. "Do you mean like Watie's attempt last week to raise the Confederate flag in the public square at Tahlequah? You know he seeks to usurp Ross as the principal chief."

  "Ross is an old man," The Blade snapped, for the first time his composure breaking to reveal the anger beneath. "He has never been a leader, only a follower—like a leaf blowing before the strongest wind."

  "You must understand, Captain," Will inserted quickly. "What the Cherokee seek is peace. We have no wish to be drawn into your war—by either side."

  "And that is the wind currently blowing," The Blade mocked.

  Jed sensed there was more than a degree of truth in The Blade's words. During the years he was stationed at Fort Gibson, he had learned one thing about John Ross. As determined as Lincoln was to preserve the Union, Ross was equally determined that the Cherokee Nation would remain united as well.

  "And if the wind changes?" he asked, already guessing The Blade's answer.

  "Then Ross will change his position."

  "Don't listen to him, Captain!" Kipp sprang forward to confront The Blade, his hands clenched into tight, trembling fists at his side.

  The faint tension that had been present now became a charged current. In two silent steps, Lije was within reach of the pair, ready to intervene if the situation turned violent.

  Kipp was blind to his presence, blind to everything except the man before him, the man he hated above all others. "He accuses Ross of being a weathercock, but he is the one who changes before the wind. We have pledged to honor the treaty he and others forced upon us, but he seeks to abandon it."

  "The Federal government has already abandoned it," The Blade declared. "Didn't you hear Parmelee admit it has no troops to protect us? Lincoln's administration has already stated it wants all Indians removed from this territory. It did not give us this land; we are here at its sufferance only. But the Confederacy has promised us free title to the land, representation in its Congress, and the protection of its armies. And its soldiers are here in the territory, ready to defend us."

  "Are they here to defend us—or to overthrow Ross and install Watie in his stead?" Kipp accused, his face mottled with hatred. But it was his hands Lije watched. His hands and their nearness to the bulge in his jacket.

  "If they did, this Nation would finally have a leader."

  "A traitor, you mean," Kipp snarled.

  "That is enough, Kipp," Will Gordon ordered in a quiet but firm voice.

  Kipp hurled an angry look at him. "He would have Parmelee believe we are a Nation of traitors. But there are only a few among us. We have a treaty and we will honor it. We will not sell out!"

  "Are you accusing me of being a traitor?" The Blade demanded hotly. "If you are, why don't you come right out and say it? Or can't you do that without a black kerchief around your neck?"

  The reference to the cloth Kipp wore as one of the executioners of The Blade's father, Shawano Stuart, sliced through the last thread of Kipp's restraint. He muttered a curse in Cherokee as his hand flew toward the bulge in his jacket.

  But Lije was a half second quicker, seizing his forearm in an iron grip and checking its upward movement. "Don't, Kipp," Lije warned as the man froze in shock at finding Lije so close to him. Kipp's mouth curled in a snarl of contempt, and the muscles in his arm flexed in resistance to his hold. "I would hate to charge my own uncle with assault, Kipp," Lije added.

  "Kipp, my God." Eliza was on her feet, a hand at her throat while Temple looked on in horror.

  Suddenly Lije felt the pressure of a gun muzzle in the center of his back. He stiffened in surprise, his blood suddenly running cold.

  "Let go of his arm, Cousin," Alex murmured be
hind him, his tone lazy and smugly amused, and Lije cursed himself for not keeping track of Kipp's son. "I said let my father go." Alex jabbed him with the muzzle.

  "Alex, no." The plea came from Diane even as Lije slowly and reluctantly opened his fingers, releasing Kipp.

  "Good work, Son." Kipp rubbed his arm where Lije's hand had been, his eyes dark with malicious glee as Lije remained motionless.

  "You better step back here with me," Alex told his father.

  "You should have stayed out of this, Alex," Lije said grimly.

  "I did—until you stepped in, Cousin." Alex eased the pressure of the gun against Lije's back.

  Recovering, Will Gordon stepped forward. "Put that gun away, Alex, and do it now. I will not permit this sort of behavior at my home."

  "Tell them that," Alex challenged, but Lije no longer felt the revolver at his back. He stole a glance over his shoulder to make certain Alex had moved away, then made a slow pivot around to face them, careful to keep his hands in plain sight. "I never guessed your navy revolver would come in so handy when I won it from you, Grandfather."

  "If I had known you would use it this way, I would never have agreed to the wager. Now, put it away." Will Gordon placed himself directly in front of the pair. Lije shifted slightly to keep both Kipp and Alex in view but remained silent, unwilling to say anything that might provoke Alex, who appeared to be enjoying it all a little too much.

  "I think I will keep it handy, Grandfather, while Father and I depart from this delightful gathering," he replied, still smiling. "You are ready to leave, aren't you, Father?"

  "Yes. I can no longer stand the company of traitors." Kipp threw a last glaring look at The Blade before he turned and stalked off in the direction of the stables.

  Alex backed away a few steps, slowly lowering the revolver, then turned and started after his father. For a moment everyone kept their place. Then Sorrel broke the grip of stillness that claimed them.

  "Alex, come back!" Sorrel ran after him, but Lije caught her before she had gone more than a few steps. "Let me go! I don't want Alex to leave."

  "It's best that he does, Sorrel," Lije insisted, easily thwarting her attempt to pull free. "You can see him another time."

  "But I want to see him now!" she stormed. "He was going to push me on the swing. Push me real high. He promised."

  "I'll take you later and push you on the swing—"

  "No, you won't," she denied. "You'll be too tired or too busy just like you always are. You're just like Papa. You're never home and when you are, you never have time for me." Her chin quivered, her lower lip trembling as she sniffed back her tears. "Alex is the only one who does things with me. He's the only one who likes me."

  "That isn't true." He crouched down to her level.

  "Yes, it is!" She sobbed now in renewed anger as Temple hurried to them. "It's your fault Alex left. Why did you have to hurt Uncle Kipp?" Then she turned roundly on their father. "Why did you have to argue with him? I hate you. I hate both of you!"

  She broke free and ran toward the house. Temple looked at Lije, her eyes dark with regret. "She didn't mean that," she said, and sent a quick apologetic glance at The Blade as well, then went after Sorrel. In the heavy silence that followed, Lije heard the soft swish of a woman's skirts near him and turned. Diane stood before him, the alarm fading from her eyes, but not her concern for him. She lifted a hand, as if to reach out to him, then drew it back.

  "Are you all right, Lije?"

  "Yes." From the stable area came the hard pound of hooves. Lije watched as Kipp and Alex galloped briefly into view, then cut across a field and disappeared from sight.

  "The old feuds." Diane paused and shook her head, her expression troubled and confused. "When we left Fort Gibson six years ago, there was peace between the two factions."

  "It was more like a truce," Lije corrected. "The growing hostility between the North and the South has created an atmosphere of distrust again and stirred awake the old hatreds. Agents on both sides exploit that for their own ends."

  Jed Parmelee turned to Will Gordon. "I am responsible for this, Will. I'm sorry."

  Will denied that with a shake of his head. "The incident is regrettable, but you are not to blame. Tempers are running high on both sides. It takes little to ignite them."

  "Perhaps." But Jed Parmelee appeared unconvinced. He turned to The Blade. "I hope you will understand that, under these circumstances, I'll have to reconsider your invitation to stay at Grand View. My mission here is a delicate one. It might be jeopardized if it's perceived that I'm choosing sides in your old disputes. It will be best if I keep my room in Tahlequah. Diane, of course, remains free to accept your invitation."

  "I would like to stay," she told The Blade. "But only if you're certain my presence won't create problems for you."

  "It will be no problem for us. However," he cast a considering glance at Lije, a trace of amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth, "I can't speak for my son on that score."

  Her laugh was low and musical. "I hope to cause your son a great many problems."

  "You may not have as many opportunities as you might wish," Lije informed her. "My work with the Cherokee Light Horse occupies much of my time."

  "The Light Horse," Diane echoed in surprise. "That was what you meant when you told your uncle you didn't want to charge him with assault. I thought you planned to open a law office."

  "I did," Lije admitted. "When I returned, I realized the Nation had a greater need for peacekeepers." He paused and looked in the direction Kipp and Alex had taken. "But today I only succeeded in widening the conflict," he said, thinking of Alex.

  "That was inevitable," The Blade stated. "You couldn't see Alex's face when he was holding that gun on you. Believe me, he was enjoying the sense of power it gave him."

  "I never should have agreed to the wager," Will murmured.

  "It would only have postponed this moment," The Blade told him. "It was coming. I think we all know that."

  Lije privately acknowledged the truth of his father's claim. Events were moving too swiftly. It had become impossible for anyone to control them, not only in the American states but in the Cherokee Nation as well. He wondered whether Diane realized that.

  8

  By week's end telegraph keys chattered from one end of the continent to the other, spreading the news of a Confederate victory at Bull Run near Manassas, Virginia. Although the Union army's defeat could hardly be called a decisive one, it dealt a crushing blow to the Union cause within the Cherokee Nation and gave credence to the South's claim that the Northerners had no stomach for a fight.

  Lije's father said as much at dinner that night, on one of the rare occasions when Lije was able to join his family for the evening meal. Diane was notably quick to take exception to his remark.

  "May I remind you that one battle does not make a war, Mr. Stuart," Diane chided, all lightness and charm as she disagreed with her host.

  "But one battle can win a war," he replied.

  "Perhaps, but that isn't the case here," Diane countered with a confident smile as the black serving maid returned to the dining room with their dessert course. "As you know, our officer corps was severely depleted when so many of our best military commanders defected to the South. It will require some time to reorganize our commands."

  "Assuming the South gives you the time."

  She smiled, taking no offense at his remark. On the contrary, Diane appeared to enjoy the verbal sparring. "Don't underestimate the will of the Union army, Mr. Stuart."

  "I don't. But neither do I overestimate it."

  "Well put, Mr. Stuart," Diane conceded and dipped her spoon into the delicate floating island. She tasted it, then made an appreciative sound in her throat. "This is delicious, Mrs. Stuart."

  "Thank you. I—"

  "Mama had Essie Lou fix it for me," Sorrel broke in. "It's my favorite."

  "It was my mother's favorite dessert, too," Diane recalled. "While we were at Fort Gibson, she
always served it when she entertained." She paused, her expression turning thoughtful and reflective. "Isn't it odd the things a person remembers? The winter before the fort was closed and we left, a regiment stopped for a few days to rest their horses. They were on their way to a garrison somewhere in Texas, I believe. I remember the regiment was under the command of Colonel Albert Johnston—the same Johnston who is now a general in the Confederate army. And his second in command was Colonel Robert E. Lee. My father told me that this last April, Lee was offered the command of the new Union army, but he refused it and subsequently joined the rebel forces. He's in charge of the Army of Virginia now. He seemed a very kind and gentle man to me, with a quiet dignity you couldn't help but admire." She smiled at the memory. A moment later, her smile widened. "There was another officer with them, too—Stuart was his name. J.E.B. Stuart. He was very dashing and gallant. My mother was quite charmed by him, I remember. And as you all know," she said, her eyes sparkling with laughter, "my mother is a woman not easily charmed by anyone."

  The others laughed. Sorrel was the loudest, anxious to be accepted as an equal by the adults at the table even though she didn't understand the humor in Diane's remark. Lije managed only a forced smile. Where Cecilia Parmelee was concerned, he had lost much of his sense of humor. When the laughter died, Diane's mood sobered again. "So many of the officers I met at the fort have joined the rebel cause—Lee and Longstreet, Lieutenant Hood from Texas, and Captain Kirby-Smith."

  "Speaking of rebels," Lije glanced at his father, "I hear Stand Watie has organized a band of guerrillas. I am told he's offered its services to the Confederate army even though Chief Ross's order forbids any Cherokee from participating in the warfare on our borders. Is it true?"

  "Yes." The Blade carefully avoided meeting the sudden, sharp look Temple sent him. "They have made their headquarters in the vicinity of old Fort Wayne."

  "But surely such action compromises Chief Ross's position of neutrality," Diane remarked in mild reproval.