Читать книгу Hillcountry Warriors - Johnny Neil Smith - Страница 11

The year was 1832 and the Wilson boys had now been surveying land for the state of Georgia for four years and recently had accompanied Mister McCorkle westward to Mississippi to survey the land acquired by the state of Mississippi from the Choctaw Indians.

While in Georgia, the group had surveyed land in the western part of the state that had once belonged to the Creek nation. After that McCorkle had been contacted by an associate in Mississippi and was employed to survey the large area of land ceded to the state by the Choctaw nation at the Treaty of Dancing Rabbit Creek. The surveying group sailed from Savannah around the tip of Florida by the way of the Gulf of Mexico, and finally reached Mobile, Alabama. Leaving Mobile, they took a flatboat up the Tombigbee River to a small settlement, and by traveling overland they soon reached the eastern section of the Choctaw lands located in east central Mississippi.

At this meeting place, several groups of surveyors gathered to design a plan in which the area could be charted thoroughly and quickly. The state wanted the Indian lands ready for settlement and sale as soon as possible.

Land speculators and traders had already begun to move into Choctaw lands to locate the choicest property and to trade with the Indians. In some cases, speculators were devising plans to cheat the Choctaws out of the more desirable sections. By the recent treaty, an individual Choctaw male could remain on the land but with restricted rights if he would give up his tribal allegiance and agree to become an American citizen. In return, he would be given 640 acres which was defined as one section. If he did not accept these terms, he and his family would be forced to move to the Oklahoma Territory, where most southeastern tribes were being relocated. The vast majority of the Choctaws chose to relocate in the Oklahoma Territory. Some decided to remain in the only homeland they had ever known, the hillcountry of east central Mississippi.

In addition to Lott and Jake, McCorkle was assigned an extra surveyor to assist with mapping a large area located to the northwest of their organizational point. The assistant, a young man named Franklin Olliver or Frank as he wished to be called, was the son of a Louisiana land speculator and a French Creole woman. He seemed to be likable enough, but acted strange at times. More was on this man’s mind than surveying.

The early March winds sent the leaves swirling softly around the campfire causing the horses to shuffle back and forth nervously. Every once in a while, the breezes would gust through the leafless treetops creating a ghostly whistling sound that caused goose bumps on those not accustomed to life in the wild.

The group traveled all day to finally arrive at the work site where they would lay out the land sections. Before reaching their campsite, they had ridden in the dark for over an hour, unaware of the landscape’s appearance. When Mister Mac finally decided to stop, it didn’t take the men long to set up camp and bed down. Later, Mister Mac was worried over the restlessness of the animals.

“Jake, get up and check the horses. Be sure they’s tied up well for the night. If we loose them, we walk, and I ain’t wantin’ to do no walkin’,” stated McCorkle, as he pulled the blanket closer around his head to keep his ears warm.

Jake slowly moved from his warm place near the fire and with his blanket wrapped around his massive shoulders walked toward the horses grumbling, “Why is it always Jake that has to do all the lousy jobs. Hell! I was better off in Savannah.”

Jake soon returned to the campfire complaining under his breath. He finally blurted out, “Mister Mac,” as he settled once more in his place by the fire, “I want to ask you sump’n, and you bein’ more intelligent than my brother Lott, I think you can give me a more sensible answer.”

“What is it now, Jake? I’m about ready to settle down for the night. I ain’t talkin’ long.”

“My brother, that smart ass over there rolled up like a cocoon, hoodwinked me out of Savannah by takin’ advantage of me when I got drunk one night. He said I got in a fight and killed a man,” explained Jake.

“Well, was it true?” Mister Mac asked, as he raised up on an elbow in order to hear Jake’s reply.

“Hell, no. You know it weren’t no truth to it. You knowed it was a joke. The worse thing about it was that officer Crandell was also in on the trick. He bein’ a friend of the fam’ly, made it more real by goin’ along with their scheme. They had me scairt to death that I was going to be arrested and sent off to jail or maybe even hanged. They had me scairt crazy.”

“Jake, the way I heard it was that yore mamma wanted you out of Savannah. She felt like you was going to get yoreself killed if you stayed there, and I agreed with her and so did Lott,” answered Mister Mac. “I knew about their plan.”

“Okay, you answer me this. I got hoodwinked out of Savannah to save my life, but here I am in this damned wilderness where I’m goin’ to either freeze to death, be eaten by one of them wild bears, or one of them Choctaws is going to stick me full of holes!” explained Jake, now moving closer to Lott to get his brother’s attention.

“Jake, just shut up yore complainin’. We’ve been over this time and time again. You ain’t going to freeze. We ain’t seen a bear in several days and them Choctaws ain’t warlike,” Lott said firmly, trying to ignore Jake’s agitation.

“We went through that village a couple of miles south of here this afternoon and there was hund’rds of Indians there. There was some mean-lookin’ ones too. I don’t think they liked us and they kept lookin’ at me, kind of strangely,” Jake exclaimed.

“They probably don’t like the idea of losin’ their land, Jake, and we ain’t helpin’ them too much either,” added Frank who had been wakened by the loud talking.

“Jake, settle down. Them Indians ain’t going to hurt us, and if they do, this is as good a place to die as any. And by the way, if they did stare at ya, they was probably thinkin’ this is the biggest and ugliest white man they’ve ever seen,” joked Lott, as Mister Mac and Frank broke out in laughter.

“See, Mister Mac, what did I tell ya? My brother is nothin’ but a smart ass and an educated fool,” resounded Jake.

“Jake, why do you resent my education? You had the same chance I did,” answered Lott. “You have as much sense as I do, when you want to use it,” continued Lott.

“I know that, but common sense is better’n book sense any day. Besides, I just couldn’t keep my mind on the subject. There was always more important things to think about, like what I wanted to do when school was out. Weren’t no way I could sit still and listen,” Jake said, pulling his blanket around his shoulders and settling himself next to a giant oak tree located twenty feet from the fire.

Everyone became quiet, even if they were not asleep, and Lott wondered if they might be able to stave off any more complaints from his brother.

“You asleep?” hissed Jake, trying to revive the argument. “Lott, you remember Mrs. Barton, our fifth grade teacher? She gave me problems, too. She had the biggest set of tits I ever seen. Frank! Frank! You awake? Each one of them was this big.” Jake’s voice rose and he held his hands in such a way as to create an image of something large and round.

“Jake, just shut that damned mouth up and leave us be. Mrs. Barton’s titties weren’t that big either,” corrected Lott. “Every woman’s tits are watermelon size in yore mind.”

Laughter once again shattered the quietness of the woodlands.

“Well it’s good one of us was distracted by women; you’re going to miss out on the best of life. Books ain’t better than women!” answered Jake.

“All of ya just be quiet and let me get some sleep,” insisted Mister Mac. “You won’t see no watermelons or women out here in these woods. And Jake, them Choctaws ain’t going to bother us.”

“Well, I ain’t sleepin’ tonight. If them Choctaws get me, they is going to get me wide awake,” Jake answered, as he rose from the ground.

“Lott, Jake’s got a right to be afraid in these woods. It pays to be cautious out here. Things could happen to ya,” Frank said, as he got up and walked toward the horses to relieve himself.

“Them Indians ain’t no thin’ but filthy savages. I’ll be glad when they is all gone west or better still, I think we ought to just round ‘em up and shoot ‘em,” continued Frank, as he returned to the campsite. “It would save the trouble of movin’ ‘em. I ought to know not to drink so much coffee. I’ll be gettin’ up all through the night.”

“Frank, I’m not sure I agree with you about them Indians,” countered Mister Mac. “Them Choctaws ain’t done a thing to anyone I’ve talked with, and this here is their land that’s bein’ taken.”

“Just my opinion, Mister Mac, my opinion,” answered Frank.

Later in the night, the winds subsided and cloudy skies gave way to a dark heaven filled with millions of twinkling stars. Everything was finally quiet around the campfire.

Jake was the first one up and stirring the following morning and wrapped snugly in his blanket, he stood and admired the unusual rays of pink, blue, and purple bands of clouds gathering on the eastern horizon. After gazing at the skies for several minutes, he turned his attention to the forest and suddenly realized this was the most magnificent country they had traveled.

Behind him was a deep forest of long leaf pines stretching as far as he could see. Their massive trunks seemed to reach to heaven. Through the years, fires and bolts of lightning had scarred the sides of these ancient trees, but even these markings made them that much more majestic. As he looked southward, the pine forest gave way to stands of oak, hickory, poplar, beech, and other hardwood trees. Looking closer, Jake noticed a small area of open meadow freckled with deer gracefully gathering around the hardwood trees where an abundance of tasty acorns had fallen.

Jake had the impulse to walk into the forest to see this miracle of beauty, but the fear of the wilderness seized control of him.

He mumbled to himself, “Why am I afraid of them woods? It ain’t as rough as some of the places I’ve found myself in. I’ve faced guns and knives and some of the roughest men in Savannah. Hell, I ain’t going to let them trees make a coward out of me. fm goin’ in.”

Grasping his rifle in one hand and his hunting knife in the other, he quietly and cautiously crept over the dampened, newly fallen leaves and noted dozens of squirrels scurrying around the bases of the trees trying to unearth their morning meal.

Creeping closer and closer to the meadow, he saw a large herd of deer. Suddenly, a large flock of turkeys wandered out into the opening and began feeding on the plants and insects in the field. Occasionally, sun rays would strike the backs of these enormous birds and Jake could see shades of gold, bronze, and orange glittering from their long feathers as they fed from plant to plant.

Jake laid his rifle and knife down so he could crawl a little closer to observe these creatures. Turning his attention once more to the deer herd that had now moved within one hundred feet of him, he began counting.

“Fifty-two, fifty-three, and fifty-four,” whispered Jake. “Lott and them just won’t believe this,” Jake murmured to himself. “Well, I’d better get back to camp before they think something has got me.”

Jake started to get up, but suddenly a forceful hand pushed him down. A muscular Indian was standing behind him with an arrow notched in the bowstring and fully drawn.

The Indian looked down at him with dark, piercing eyes, and it was obvious to Jake, that he must be a fierce warrior. A long scar ran across his nose and down his cheek. Jake was terrified when he quickly realized his rifle and knife were lying on the ground thirty feet behind him. Feeling he could not get up in time to stop the arrow, he decided to try to jump the Indian anyway, hoping he would not be hit in the process.

Looking at the arrow once again, Jake reconsidered his plan. To his surprise, the Indian raised his bow toward the nearest deer and sent an arrow racing through the air striking the deer in the lower section of the neck. The animal ran but came crashing to the ground underneath one of the large oak trees across the meadow.

As it struggled to stand again, the hunter sprinted toward the downed animal, screaming and chanting. His long, black hair, shining in the early morning sunlight, bounced across his shoulders as he ran toward the kill.

Jake thought to himself, “Which is the more magnificent of these creatures? The deer or this Choctaw who came up behind me without my knowledge and could’ve taken my life had he wanted to?”

Jake ran back toward the camp without a backward glance to see whether the Indian was at the kill or after him. Upon reaching the site, he found everyone just as he had left them sleeping and snoring. Nothing had changed, at least not for them.

Jake contemplated whether or not to share his experience with his friends, but decided to keep it to himself.

“They won’t believe me if I tell them what I seen, and if they do, they’ll probably just make fun of me,” murmured Jake. “But I survived my first venture into them woods, and that Indian didn’t even try to kill me. Hell, he was probably more scairt of me than I was of him. Get up, get up, you lazy bastards! It’s a fine day to be alive and nary a bear, panther, or Indian has got ahold of this lovely carcass of mine. We is going to tame this here wilderness,” hollered Jake, as he shook the men vigorously.

“You sound mighty brave this morning, Mister Jake. I guess the daylight makes all them fears go away,” Frank said, pulling himself up to the coals to make a pot of fresh coffee. “You is a daytime warrior and a night-time chicken.”

“Don’t get him started again, Frank. We got to work today,” ordered Mister Mac.

The group straightened up camp and loaded the pack-horses with their equipment, but Mister Mac decided to make a change in plans.

“Boys, since this here is a pretty good place for us to camp, I think we’ll just use this spot as our base. From this point we can lay out a township in each direction. This can be what you call, the crossroads. That sound all right with you men?”

The group agreed and only loaded surveying equipment on the horses.

A township consisted of an area of land six miles square divided into 36 sections of 640 acres each. To survey four townships of land was a large undertaking.

But by late May, the surveying had been completed in the immediate area and the men were ready to move farther westward. During the past two months, they had covered every inch of the land and made it a point to stay out of the way of the Indians. With each passing day, more Choctaws were seen wandering through the woodlands and closer to the crossroads camp, but at the same time, they kept their distance. The Choctaws minded their own business and continued to live in peace, unaware of the evil future the white men would bring.

The work was finally finished and it was time for the crew to move farther west.

Mister Mac stopped and his men paused at the creek below their now deserted camp and let the horses water before moving out.

“Mister Mac, you know I’ve kind of got attached to this here place. There’s sump’n special about it,” Jake said, as his horse wandered upstream while watering.

“I have the same feelm’ as Jake,” replied Lott. “What more could you ask for? Someone is going to be mighty lucky to get a piece of this here property. One could make a fine livin’ here.”

“Well, young folks like you could probably make sump’n out of it, but for me, I’m too old to start a life out here,” answered Mister Mac. “I’ve got other plans ‘fore I go back to Georgia.”

The group led the horses up the steep bank above the creek and were soon headed west through an immense swamp bottom covered with heavy hardwoods. The horses struggled to make their way through the entanglement of ferns and canes. Never in their lives had these men seen such an abundance of wildlife. It seemed like every time the horses broke through the thick foliage, some kind of wild creature would bolt out seeking safety from the horses’ hooves. They soon crossed an Indian trail that led them out of the swamp and into open woodlands.

“Mister Mac?” questioned Frank. “What do ya plan to do when you finish this job? You said you had sump’n more to do. You mind tellin’ us?”

“Not at all. I plan to help the state sell all this land that We’ve mapped out,” replied Mister Mac. “It was part of the deal I made with the authorities. All the head surveyors got the same arrangement. Who knows the land better than us? Nobody, except the Choctaws.”

Later that evening, the men once again settled around a fire tired from too many hours on horseback and the hard work involved in setting up a new camp.

“Mister Mac,” questioned Jake nervously, “would you sell me a piece of land?”

“Sure, I would, but I don’t own no land in Savannah, Jake,” answered Mister Mac.

“I don’t mean in Savannah. I mean here.”

“Here!” exclaimed Lott. “You must be crazy. You don’t like these woods. You’re scairt of them, Jake. You wouldn’t last a year out here,” snapped Lott.

“Lott, had you rather me live here or go back to Savannah when this job is over?” answered Jake. “I’ve kind of learned to like this rough country. It’s a challenge to me, and I believe I can lick it.”

Surprised that his wayward brother would consider living in this practically uninhabited land, Lott looked Jake in the face to see if he was really serious.

“Jake, I love this land, too. I just haven’t said much about it. I’ll stay if you will, providin’ Mister Mac will sell us the property. How about it, Mister Mac?”

“You boys’ money is as good as any. I’ll sell you any piece you want, if ‘n it ain’t already taken by the Indians who plan to stay on here,”

“That’s a deal, Mister Mac. When we finish this job, you take the money we’ve made and place our names in the section of land where we first made camp, if’n the Indians don’t want it,” insisted Lott.

“And we want that meadow southwest of the camp,” added Jake. “It’s kind of special to me.”

“You boys have worked hard for me the past four years, and I owe you more than the price of this land,” stated Mister Mac. “Not only will I register your property, but you should have a nice sum of money left over. And by the way, if’n they has a drawin’ for the sections, I think I can work a deal where you two can still get yores. You boys got a deal.”

“What about me?” questioned Frank.

“What ya got in mind, Frank?” answered Mister Mac.

“You remember when we traveled south of that Choctaw village on the way up here. There was a large patch of open bottom land next to the Chunky River that would make some kind of fine farmin’. I want that land, Mister Mac. It could make me a rich man one of these days.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but that’s in another surveyor’s area,” Mister Mac said, “and somewhere I think I heard some talk that a few Choctaws may want to settle there. I’m not sure though.”

The campfire was almost out now with only a few glowing coals remaining visible. It wouldn’t be long until each would go in different directions. They had become close in many ways but in the years to come, events would shatter the friendships developed during the long summer of 1832 and would bring pain and suffering to the lives of the Wilsons.