Читать книгу Hillcountry Warriors - Johnny Neil Smith - Страница 15

January through march were dreary months in the east central Mississippi hillcountry but as spring approached, excitement over the arrival of “Mama Wilson” (as the boys called her) kept them going. The men worked late into the night with the plowing and planting. They planned to give the matriarch their complete attention so Lott arranged for Minsa to employ several of his clansmen to take care of the animals and fieldwork during Mrs. Wilson’s three week visit.

They had also begun to breed the new stallion to the strongest and fastest mares in their herd. Jake was looking forward to seeing his mother, but down deep, he was just as excited about the foals that would be born next winter. He knew he already had some of the fastest horses of the traditional stock in his section of the state and by breeding his choice mares he was anticipating colts that would become the premier attraction in country racing.

Minsa and Lott had built a race track on Minsa’s property where the Choctaws had in years past come together for their fierce and competitive stickball games. It lay next to the Little Chunky River where sparkling, pure water was available for watering the horses and the spectators as well.

The settlers had devised three different types of racing. One was the dash where horses would race on a straight away for a distance of a quarter of a mile. This race was usually scheduled for the first event of the afternoon. The second race was a two mile run on the track that encircled the old ball field. This was a popular event and like the dash, observers could see the entire race from sitting underneath huge oak trees that bordered the river. But, the most popular and dangerous race, was the hillrun. A committee met before each race and mapped out a route that would cover no less than five miles and would involve racing the horses through the rugged hills and hollows, swamp bottoms, and through several creeks and streams that flowed across the woodlands. Each time, the committee tried to pick a different and more challenging route.

Since the hillrun was the longest and most dangerous race, more money was bet on it. Many times a horse and rider were tumbled to the ground when the horse either stepped in a stump hole or simply lost it’s footing when descending one of the steep hills. Quite a few riders had been seriously injured during past runs, and several horses had to be shot after breaking a leg.

Jake made his top earnings on the hillrun. Not only did he have one of the fastest horses, but with Minsa as his rider, he had the advantage of Minsa’s knowledge of every inch of the forest. When given a good horse, it was hard for Minsa to lose. But Jake seldom raced his finest animal because of the danger.

Jake had won large sums of money at the races, but it was a mystery to the family as to where the winnings were being spent. Eventually, Lott began to put the puzzle together but wished his brother would confide in him.

On one afternoon, a severe April thunderstorm forced Lott and Jake to seek shelter in the barn until the rain slacked.

“Jake, I want to talk to you about sump’n that’s been botherin’ me for quite a spell,” Lott said, as he sat in the hallway attempting to roll a smoke.

“I know what you gettin’ at. It’s been botherin’ me too. Mamma’s comin’ and I don’t know what she’s going to think about me marryin’ up with a Choctaw. And you know Homer don’t quite look like them other boys ‘round here either. What’s she going to think, Lott?”

“Jake, don’t worry none about that. Hatta is some kind of a fine woman, and Homer, well, you won’t find a more handsome and pleasant young’un to be around. Give Mamma a few minutes with him and she’ll love him to death,” assured Lott. “Mamma looks at a person’s heart, not what they look like. You keep forgettin’ too, Hatta’s father was a white man. It ain’t like she’s full Choctaw, and it won’t make no difference if’n she was.”

“Lott, I hope you’s right. I want things to be just right when Mamma gets here. I want her to be proud of me and my family. I’ve caused Mamma a heap of heartache, disappointment and worry through the years, and I want to show her I got my life straightened out. As Mamma used to say, ‘Walkin’ the straight and narrow”

Jake paused a moment then chuckled, “Well, I try to walk it most of the time, I guess.”

“Jake, what I want to talk to ya about ain’t concerning Hatta or Mamma. I been wonderin’ about what you doin’ with all that money you been winnin’ at them races. You know, we’s more than partners, we’s also brothers. Our earnings on the farm, we share, and yore racin’ money is yores, and it ain’t none of my bus’ness what ya do with it.”

Jake, seated on the ground across the hall from Lott, picked up a piece of straw and began to gently chew on its stem as he spoke.

“Lott, what I’m going to tell ya, you ain’t going to understand, but I want you to hear me out. I’ve learned to love and respect these here Choctaw people and through Hatta and Homer, I feel a part of them. The gov’ment and our own folks ain’t treated them fair. They pushed them off their land and those who did decide to stay, well, they is still cheating the hell out of em,” explained Jake. “You know they got a outfit called the Choctaw Land Company right here in this county, and they is doin’ everything they can to buy Indian land. They offer an Indian ten cents to the acre, and then sell it for anywhere from fifty cents to a dollar an acre. Also, them bastards will get one of em drunk and ‘fore he can sober up, his land’s gone. There’s also been times when a Choctaw’s run up a debt with somebody, and they tell him that if’n he will sell his land, he won’t owe nobody and will stay out of jail. A Choctaw can’t stand bein’ in jail. Lott, I could go on and on, but the fact is that if’n sump’n ain’t done soon, there ain’t going to be a single Choctaw livin’ on Choctaw land. Hell, it’s about like that now. They doin’ everything possible right now to try to get Minsa to sell his to the company. Lott, if’n somebody don’t help them, they ain’t going to be much better off than them pore slaves that you always takin’ up for,” concluded Jake spitting the straw out of his mouth in disgust.

“What’s this gotta do with yore winnings?” prodded Lott.

“Well, I guess it’s got a lot to do with it. Me and Minsa got a plan worked out. First, we try to tell the Choctaws how to deal with the white men who’s tryin’ to get their land, and if’n they get in debt, we loan them money where’s they won’t have to sell. That’s where my money’s goin’, Lott. I hope you understand what we’s doin’. I’m tryin’ to save them people’s land.”

By now the rain had almost stopped and the sun peeked between the rain clouds giving the land a fresh and radiant appearance as its rays streaked across the freshly plowed red soil in the field behind the barn.

“Jake, what ya doin’ is a noble thing, and if’n that’s what ya want to do with yore racin’ money, that’s yore bus’ness. I just hope you ain’t throwin’ money down a empty stump hole. Lot of folks think the Choctaws just ain’t going to adjust to settlin’ on a piece of land. They don’t know how to work it, and eventually they going to lose it and when they lose it, the only choice they got is the Indian Territory in Oklahoma. But I’m proud of what you doin’, Jake, and I know the good Lord lookin’ down from heaven has got to think highly of ya, too. You ready to hit the fields?”

“Ready brother, let’s get them pretty for Mamma.”

Later, Jake told Lott more about the Choctaw Land Company. From what Jake could find out, Frank Olliver and several wealthy men from Decatur and Hickory had formed the company and acquired thousands of acres of Choctaw land and were making tremendous profits.

What disturbed Lott the most, was when Jake told him that he felt Mister Walker, who owned Walker’s General Store and was a personal friend, was one of the members of the Choctaw Land Company.

Meanwhile, time seemed to move slowly as the family anticipated the arrival of Mrs. Wilson, but eventually the end of June was at hand. From a letter received on the 15th of June, the family was notified that Mrs. Wilson would arrive on the four o’clock stage from Meridian between July the first through the fifth, depending on the weather and when her ship would arrive in Mobile. Professor Johnson could not make the trip, but sent his regards.

The family decided that beginning July the first, they would stop work each afternoon at two o’clock, clean up and put on their Sunday best, load up in the wagon and go to the stage stop at Mister Walker’s Store. To be certain they were there when she stepped off the coach, they would follow this schedule each day until she arrived.

The last day of June was the hottest of the young summer. The women and children were busy cleaning the house and washing down the inner walls and floors, while Homer and James Earl were sweeping the front yard. There was no grass grown in the front yards of the cabins in this section of the country nor did the settlers want any. Lott and Jake were down in the swamp bottom trying to get one of their cows out of a bog when they heard a rider approaching.

“Lott, that looks like Thomas Walker comin’ down here. He sure is in some kind of hurry. Wonder what’s the rush,” commented Jake, drenched with sweat and glad that the cow was finally freed.

Walker pulled his horse to a stop and with a grin that could have charmed the Governor stated, “You boys expectin’ company?”

“Sure we is, Thomas. You know Mamma’s going to be here soon. What you talkin’ about?” asked Lott.

“Well, a little ole grey haired lady came into my store a few minutes ago when the stage stopped and asked the whereabouts of two Wilson boys.”

Before Mister Walker could say another word, Lott and Jake started screaming and shouting so loudly it caused Thomas’ horse to rear up and send him tumbling backwards to the ground.

“Mamma’s here! Jake, let’s get home! We got to get the folks ready and hurry on down there. I’ll race ya to the house!” shouted Lott.

In seconds, the brothers were on their horses and on the way to the house. Lott told Minsa to harness the horses to the wagon and shouted to the family.

“Yall get washed up and dressed right now! Mamma got here early and is waitin’ for us. Me and Jake’s going to go down there and get her right now,” exclaimed Lott. “You be ready when we get back.”

In their haste, Lott and Jake forgot to clean up themselves as they pushed the horse and wagon to its limit. In a short time they turned the corner leading to the front of Walker’s store, almost wheeling the wagon over in the process. As they came to a stop near the front porch of the store, there she was sitting on the bench with her trunk.

For a few seconds, they just looked at each other. Mrs. Wilson, astonished by the way the wagon had almost turned over, thought these men punishing that poor animal must be some of the local Mississippi frontier ruffians Lott and Jake had written about.

As for the brothers, they stared at the little lady sitting so erect and neatly dressed and thought, “This woman don’t look like Mamma. Her hair’s so gray, and she’s smaller than I remembered. But those eyes, it’s got to be her.”

Studying the men thoroughly, Mrs. Johnson recognized the features of what her children used to look and thought, “ These men have got to be my boys.”

“Well, I had to look at ye for a spell before I knew who you were, but I guess you can pass for my laddies,” Mrs. Johnson said, getting up from the bench. “I thought you might be here on time, young men. Get up here and let me see you.”

The boys quickly climbed down from the wagon now realizing in their haste, they had not even washed their faces and hands. Dried mud was caked all over their clothes, in their hair and even in their beards, but that didn’t matter. Their mother was waiting.

They walked slowly up the steps and looked straight into her deep blue eyes. She turned to Lott and gently ran her fingers through his thick graying hair and kissed him on the cheek.

“Lott, it’s been nineteen years since I last saw you. you’ve grown into quite a handsome and distinguished looking man with all those silver locks. And who is this fine specimen of a gent with ye?” pausing to study Jeremiah more closely. “This can’t be my Jeremiah.”

She stroked his red coarse beard and reached up to place her hands on his broad shoulders.

“I can’t believe this is my baby. Jeremiah, you have grown into one giant of a man. I understand you have a beautiful wife and son. I can’t wait to meet them all,” concluded Mrs. Johnson, as she pulled her sons together and tried to embrace them both.

They laughed and cried as they realized that although many years had separated them and changed their appearance, their hearts were still interwoven.

The boys then quickly loaded their mother’s chest in the wagon and began the short trip back home trying to tell her all at once of their many years in the wilderness.

“Laddies, you don’t have to tell me everything right now. We have three weeks together,” Mrs. Johnson said. “I’m anxious to meet my daughters and my grandchildren. You have told me so much about them in your letters. I can’t wait to see them.”

On the road, they met Mister Walker and he also was as muddy as they were.

“Well, I see ya finally found them fellows you was lookin’ for. They got in such a hurry, they forgot to help me out of that bog,” laughed Mister Walker, pointing at his muddy pants bottom. “It’s all right though. They don’t ever get a guest as polite and nice as you is. Welcome to Coon Tail, Mrs. Johnson.”

As the wagon pulled up to the front of the house, the family was lined up across the long front porch dressed in their best.

Lott and Jake helped their mother down from the wagon and led her up the steps.

“Homer, you get the chest out of the back, and James Earl you help him tote it in,” Jake said.

“No, children, you stay right where you are. I want to meet you all first.”

She approached Hatta first and gently embraced her. “Young lady, you are every bit as beautiful as Jeremiah described. I can’t wait to know you better,” stated Mrs. Johnson. “And you, my dear, are Sarah Alice, and you are a pretty thing, too.”

Then turning to her sons she said, “You boys have found some mighty fine looking lassies out here. I just hope you treat them as your father treated me, like the Queen herself.”

Mrs. Johnson went from child to child, giving each a hug and saying a few words to each to let them know how much she looked forward to being the grandmother they had heard so much about and had waited so long to meet.

Later after an ample supper, the family sat out on the front porch in the light of a full moon until the early hours of the morning, reminiscing about all that had happened in Savannah and in the boys’ new homeland.

Tree frogs, locusts, and crickets continuously serenaded their newly arrived guest. Down at the spring, several bullfrogs croaked, interrupted occasionally by an owl perched out beyond the barn.

The children had tired themselves out in play and were curled up in the hall on quilt pallets that Sarah and Hatta laid out. It was a treat for them to be able to stay up so late.

About three o’clock, the adults felt it was time to retire, especially since Mrs. Johnson was probably exhausted.

“Laddies, there’s one thing I am having a problem with. What has happened to the Queen’s language? You know, I can hardly understand you sometimes. And boys, do all the women around here really use snuff?” joked Mrs. Johnson.

“Mamma, people don’t talk that way out here. We ain’t heard grammar like yores spoken in a long time. The children learn it right in school, but it ain’t spoken out here and for the snuff, you going to have to try it ‘fore you leave, “ laughed Lott.

That night Lott and Jake felt their home was complete with their wives beside them in bed, the children tucked in their rooms and their mother finally home with them.

The days that followed were some of the happiest the Wilsons had ever experienced. They took long walks through the woodlands, introduced their mother to neighbors who had come to meet her, went swimming and picnicking at the creek and stayed up late talking on the front porch.

The highlight of the visit was the Fourth of July community picnic and races. Lott and Jake invited the entire community to meet at the race track for a day of fun, fellowship, and country racing.

The morning of the fourth dawned clear and warm. Mrs. Wilson was already up at daybreak and after quietly making a cup of coffee, she wandered out into the front yard admiring the natural beauty of the homestead. Somewhere deep in the woods, she could hear Jake’s hounds giving chase to some critter, but suddenly noticing movement at the barn, she was startled to see a strange man approaching leading a mean-looking dog.

Noticing that she seemed frightened, he quickly introduced himself.

“My name is Minsa and you, Mamma Wilson. We wait long time for you to come,” he said in a quiet and polite manner. “I come to see you and ask Jake if I ride in race today.”

“It is nice to meet you Minsa. I’ve heard many good things about you,” replied Mrs. Wilson, leaning down to stroke the dog that was now sitting on the ground beside Minsa. But the dog growled and lunged toward her only to be pulled back by the leash.