Beyond the Quiet Hills

by Aaron McCarver

  Hawk jerked the huge man to his feet and said coldly, “You’re under arrest for horse stealing, Honey.”

  “You won’t never hang me!” Blood ran down Shoate’s head, but his thick skull had cushioned the blow. His eyes were red rimmed, and despite his hands being tied, he threw himself forward like a maniac, shouting, “I’ll kill you, Spencer!”

  Hawk simply swiveled and struck the huge man on the back of his neck. The blow drove Honey sideways, and, off-balance, he fell to the ground.

  Hawk picked up his musket and put it right against the big man’s temple. “If you’d rather get shot than hang, it’s your choice.”

  Anderson drew a sharp breath, wondering if Hawk would pull the trigger. Finally he was relieved to hear Shoate begin cursing but not showing resistance.

  “Let’s take ’em in. We’ll have the trial as soon as we get the association together,” Sevier said.

  “We didn’t have nothin’ to do with it!” Taylor cried out.

  “You saw him nearly kill Noah Leary, didn’t you, Zeke?”

  “Wasn’t none of our affair. You don’t bust into another man’s quarrel.”

  Hawk stared at the two and shook his head. “You’ll be at the trial,” he said. “If you don’t tell the truth, I think we can string you up along with this one.” He turned then and said bleakly, “Let’s get him back to the settlement.”

  ****

  It was five days after the arrest of Honey Shoate that the Watauga Association court convened. Some of the members of the court had gone on a salt-hunting expedition, and it was necessary to await their return before the trial could take place.

  Finally, on a Thursday morning the court met in the accustomed place, and the room was packed. It was the first real test of the power of the court to enforce laws.

  Honey Shoate stood in front of the members of the court sullen and belligerent. He refused to have anyone defend him and continually interrupted the court with blasphemy and cursing.

  “Doesn’t he know he could be hanged?” Paul whispered to Hawk, who stood beside him, both of them with their backs to the wall.

  “I reckon he does, but he doesn’t care much.”

  After Sevier had given his evidence, and Noah Leary’s wife had testified that her husband was not a betting man and would never have bet his horse, Shoate fell into a rage, cursing Mrs. Leary until Hawk had gone to him and said, “Shut your mouth or I’ll put a gag in it!”

  Honey Shoate had gazed balefully at Hawk, and even with the shadow of a hanging over him, he was not daunted. “I’ll kill you, Hawk!”

  “I expect you’d like to try.”

  “There’s lots of places. I’ll get you! You ain’t gonna live long!”

  John Carter, head of the court, said, “Shut your mouth, Shoate!” He turned to Zeke Taylor and said, “Did you hear a bet being made?”

  Taylor swallowed hard. He was rather pale, for he knew it was entirely possible he could be hanged because he had ridden off with the horse, as well.

  “No, I didn’t hear that.”

  “How do you know the bet was made?”

  “Why . . . why, Honey told me. He said Leary bet his horse against his’n.”

  “It was all hearsay?”

  “I reckon so.”

  William Isaac Crabtree had nothing else to add. He told his story, and finally James Robertson said, “Why didn’t you stop him from kicking Leary?”

  “Why, it wasn’t our fight,” Crabtree said indignantly. “A man minds his own business.”

  Carter stared at the two and appeared to be pondering what action he’d be taking against them, but finally he shrugged and said, “Let’s get on with the trial.”

  Honey Shoate’s defense was nonexistent. He swore that Leary had bet his horse despite the testimony of the man’s wife and brother that Leary never bet anything. It was against his principles, they both said, and neither had ever known him to make a bet of any kind.

  Finally John Carter ended the session, saying, “Take your prisoner away while the court comes to a verdict.”

  Hawk cleared the room but then went back inside as the men talked about the verdict.

  “I don’t see we need to take a lot of time,” Robertson shrugged. He made a tall shadow as he stood beside the window gazing out, then turned and said, “He’s guilty as sin. I vote for hanging.”

  “So do I,” Carter said and shook his head. “He’s a mad dog, and he’ll kill somebody else.”

  Hawk hesitated. “He didn’t actually kill Leary.”

  “He stole a horse,” Carter said shortly. “You’re not gettin’ tenderhearted, are you, Hawk?”

  “Hate to take a man’s life. You can’t give it back to him.”

  “He would have killed Noah if Sevier hadn’t stopped him,” Robertson said, “and he’ll kill you if we let him go.”

  “I’ll take my chances on that.”

  But the verdict was quickly reached. Hawk hesitated, then when asked by Carter, made it unanimous.

  The court was reconvened, and when Shoate was brought in, John Carter announced, “You’re guilty, according to the association. I sentence you to be hanged by the neck tomorrow until you’re dead.”

  Hawk examined Shoate’s face. It was a brutal face without a redeeming social kindness in it, and the verdict seemed to enrage him. He cursed and had to be restrained from attacking Carter, and when Hawk took him out and locked him up in the powder house, he said, “You’d better think about God and your soul.”

  Shoate only cursed him and Hawk turned away sadly.

  The next day the sentence was carried out at dawn, and Hawk, who had seen his share of dead men, felt a chill as Honey Shoate went to his death cursing man and God. When it was over, Hawk said to Paul Anderson, “I hate to see a thing like that.”

  Anderson had tried to speak with Shoate earlier, but he had been cursed, as well. His face was pale, and he said, “He seemed to think there was no judgment.”

  “He knows better now,” Hawk said grimly, then turned and walked away.

  ****

  That evening Hawk was quiet all during supper, and afterward he walked out and did not appear until after the children had gone to bed. Elizabeth, knowing him well, came to him and touched his arm. “Did it have to be done?”

  “The court thought so.”

  “But what about you?”

  “I wouldn’t hang a man for stealing a horse. For killing a man, yes. But he didn’t kill Leary.”

  “He would have, though. That’s what Sevier said.”

  “I suppose so. And we do have to make sure the area stays safe to live in.”

  A bleakness clouded Hawk’s face, and Elizabeth put her arm around him as he stood at the window staring out into the darkness. “What about his soul?”

  “Paul went to see him, but he wouldn’t listen to him.”

  “I was surprised at Paul, being a minister and all.”

  “What else could he do? He says the Bible upholds capital punishment. We had a long talk about it,” Hawk said. He turned and faced her, and spoke slowly and thoughtfully. “We don’t have much law out here, and we get some mighty hard men. They’ve got to know that when they break the law they’ll have to answer for it. It’s a hard way, but that’s the way it must be.”

  “I hope it doesn’t happen again. Another hanging, I mean.”

  “It probably will,” Hawk said almost bitterly, then he shook his head and with an effort put the events of the day away from him. “We won’t talk about it anymore.”

  “No, let’s talk about your daughter.”

  “Daughter? How do you know it’s not going to be a son?”

  “Because I just know. Will you mind too bad not having another son?”

  “No. I hope she looks like you.” He laughed and drew her close. “Be terrible if she looked like me.”

  The two stood there holding each other, and finally as Elizabeth turned and headed for the bedroom, he followed her. The door closed, shutting
out the world outside so that all they had was each other.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A Brother’s Choice

  “Hawk?”

  “Yes, what is it, Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth was lying in the bed, unmoving. When she turned her face to Hawk, he saw that her lips were pressed tightly together and alarm ran through him.

  “Is it time?”

  “Yes. I think you’d better go get Deborah.”

  Hawk leaped out of bed, pulled his pants on, and left the room. He called out, “Andy—Andy!”

  A rustle came from where the boys were sleeping, and then Andrew’s tousled head appeared in the opening. “Yes, Pa. What is it?”

  “Quick, son! Run and get Mrs. Stevens.”

  “All right, Pa.”

  “And don’t tarry. You hear me?”

  Hawk turned to see Sarah, who slept in the large room, and at once she asked, “Is Ma going to have her baby?”

  “Yes.” Hawk’s answer was terse as he looked at the door to the bedroom. The muscles of his jaw grew tense and he swallowed convulsively. He seemed to have forgotten Sarah, who came and stood by him, frightened by his expression. “She’ll be all right, won’t she, Pa?”

  Hawk shook his head nervously and then turned to look down at her. “Yes. She’ll be all right, Sarah. We’ll just have to pray for her and the new baby.”

  ****

  The rifle cracked and Andrew lowered his musket. “Look, Pa, dead center!”

  Hawk had been staring back at the cabin where Deborah Stevens was with Elizabeth. Sarah and Abigail were inside the kitchen in case they needed any help. Hawk had offered to stay, but Deborah Stevens had said, “You’d just be in the way. Now, take the boys and go off somewhere, but not too far.”

  Hawk had gathered up the two boys, telling them to bring their muskets, and they had gone two hundred yards past the house, just over the rise where he could still keep an eye on the door. Sequatchie sat with his back against the tree, watching as the boys took their target practice.

  “Your turn, Jacob,” Andrew grinned. “I bet you can’t top that shot.”

  Jacob had loaded his rifle. He had been inordinately proud of the weapon Hawk had given him for Christmas and had spent some time practicing. Now, however, he seemed preoccupied, and when he shot he merely clipped the bark on the tree where the target was pinned.

  “You’re not paying attention, Jacob!” Hawk said with some irritation. He hardly knew what he was saying, for his mind was back in the cabin, and he did not see the hurt look that crossed Jacob’s face. “Try it again!” he said impatiently.

  Jacob bit his lip and loaded the rifle. He had gotten to be quick at this, pouring the black powder into the pan, then a measured amount down the long barrel, followed by the musket ball, and then a wad on top, all shoved down with a ramrod. Replacing the ramrod in the clips on the stock, he took careful aim but missed again by a greater margin than before.

  Hawk had been watching and now said, “Why don’t you listen to what I’m saying? Look, I’ll show you!”

  Jacob, however, whirled and walked away angrily.

  “Wait a minute, Jake!” Hawk halfheartedly called after him, but Jacob paid no attention.

  Andrew looked at Hawk and said, “I think you hurt his feelings, Pa. I’ll go talk to him.”

  As Andrew ran after Jacob, Sequatchie spoke for the first time. “That was not well, my friend.”

  “No. I shouldn’t have shouted at him.”

  “I know you are worried.”

  “Any man would be worried, I suppose.”

  “It is not just Elizabeth you think about.”

  Hawk blinked in surprise, thinking he had misunderstood. “What do you mean by that?”

  “You are thinking of your first wife.”

  Hawk had long ago given up trying to figure out how Sequatchie could read his thoughts. There was something almost eerie about the way the tall Cherokee could often tell what he was thinking.

  Hawk moved restlessly, his eyes troubled. “I thought it would be all right, Elizabeth having a baby, even though Faith died. I thought it would be different this time.”

  “But it is not?”

  “I keep thinking about how Faith died. I thought I’d be able to trust God. I know He’s able, but, Sequatchie, now that the time is here I . . . I remember how happy I was when Jacob was on the way, and then when Faith died I just went crazy. It keeps coming back into my mind. I can’t put it out.”

  “Elizabeth is in God’s hands. That is the best place for anyone to be.”

  Hawk nodded but still looked apprehensive. He stood uncertainly, not knowing whether to go talk to Jacob, but then Sequatchie spoke up.

  “I think someone else is thinking of your first wife, too.”

  “Of Faith? Why, who could that be?”

  “I think her son may have her on his mind. Didn’t you see his face and how his hands are not steady? He can shoot better than he did today.”

  “I never thought—”

  “He’s probably hurting on this day just as you are. I think you should go speak to him.”

  “Yes. I will.” Hawk nodded, tried to smile, then left the hill at a run. He found the two boys at the well outside the house, and he heard Jacob saying, “Leave me alone, Andrew! Just get away from me!”

  “Andrew,” Hawk said, coming to a stop, “let me talk to your brother alone.”

  “All right, Pa.”

  Waiting until Andrew had gotten out of hearing, Hawk turned to face Jacob. He hesitated, awkward and uncertain. With part of his mind he was listening to the faint cry that he heard inside the cabin, but he said slowly, “It seems like I have to spend most of my time apologizing for things I do to you, Jacob.” He waited for the boy to speak up, but Jacob said nothing. “I know you’re thinking about your mother.”

  Surprise filled Jacob’s eyes, and he turned quickly to look at Hawk. His eyes narrowed, but he did not speak, waiting for Hawk to say more.

  “You know, son, even though I love Elizabeth very much, I still think about your mother. And I know that Elizabeth still thinks of Patrick, too. That doesn’t mean we love each other any less. I can’t understand why your mother died, but the only way to handle something like that is just to trust God to do what’s best for His children.”

  Jacob had a bitterness that came to his lips almost unbidden. “Was it best that I be left alone for most of my life?”

  With anguish in his eyes, Hawk shook his head. “We’ve been over this. I told you how it grieves me, son, the things that I’ve done. I turned my back on God and behaved very foolishly. All I can say is that I know I love you, and I’ll do the best I can for you now and all the rest of my life.”

  At that moment Deborah Stevens suddenly appeared at the door. “Hawk!” she cried out, and when he turned he saw that she was smiling. “You’d better come inside and see your wife and your new daughter.”

  Hawk let out a whoop that carried over the yard and clear away to where Sequatchie heard it and appeared, running toward the cabin. Hawk started past Jacob and said, “Come on. You can see your new sister.”

  “No. You go on in. I’ll come in a minute.”

  Hawk barely heard, so frantic was he to see Elizabeth, and he disappeared at once. Sequatchie came running up to Jacob and asked, “The baby’s come?”

  “Yes.” Then Jacob suddenly asked, “Sequatchie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you remember you promised to take me back whenever I asked? Well, maybe it’s time.”

  “Why would you say it is time now?”

  “Things aren’t working out.”

  “Why would you say that? You are becoming a good hunter, but it takes time to become a long hunter. Another year and you will be as good a man in the woods as your father.”

  “I don’t know. I just know I can’t stay here.”

  “Maybe it’s because you don’t want it to work out,” Sequatchie observed. His keen eyes were glowing, and
he said, “It would crush your father and the rest of the family if you left now. You would miss seeing your new sister grow up. You need a family. You didn’t have anyone for so long, and now you have a father and a mother and a brother and two sisters.” He laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And you have me for an older brother—or another father, if you would have it so.”

  Jacob stared at the bronze face of Sequatchie and could not answer. Uncertainty ran through him, and he finally mumbled, “I just don’t know, Sequatchie.”

  “Wait a few days. If you don’t change your mind, I will honor our agreement. Now,” he said urgently, “go inside and see your new sister.”

  “All right, I will.” Jacob turned and entered the cabin, followed by Sequatchie. He found Deborah Stevens washing her hands in a basin, and she nodded at them.

  “You can go in, but not for long.”

  Jacob wanted to turn and run from the cabin, but Sequatchie was there with him, his dark eyes fixed on him. Stiffly he walked inside the door to the bedroom and then stopped dead still.

  Elizabeth’s face was pale, and lines of strain marred its smoothness. But after one glance at her, Jacob stared at his father, who was sitting on the bed beside Elizabeth holding a tiny bundle. The eyes of Hawk Spencer, Jacob saw, were filled with love. His face, which could be so stern in times of danger or of trouble, was now gentle, and a smile softened the hard lines of his mouth. Looking up and seeing Jacob, he held the baby up and said, “Come and greet your sister, Jake.”

  For a moment Jacob just stood there, then Hawk said, “Come. Take her.”

  Jacob moved forward awkwardly and took the tiny bundle. The baby was wrapped in a linen towel, and looking down at the red face, he stroked the soft hair as he studied the infant. “She’s so little,” he whispered. He held the baby as if she were a fragile and very precious burden. He could not stop looking at her face. Until this moment the baby had not been real to him, but now he knew that this flesh and blood was his flesh and blood. He even imagined that she looked somewhat like the Spencers, but with honey-colored hair, and the same shaped face, in miniature, as his father and he himself had. He was unaware that everyone in the room was looking at him—Sequatchie standing just inside the door, Sarah and Andrew off to one side, Elizabeth from her bed, and Hawk, as he stood looking down at him.