Godsend (Hell Yeah! Heritage), page 14
“Why did you leave Mexico?”
“Morelos sent me to seek aid from the states. I failed, but I did join up with Andy Jackson and fought at the battle of New Orleans. In 1815, I went back to Mexico and found Morelos was dead, he’d been executed by the royalists. I barely escaped with my life.” He laughed. “But I did find a wife in Vera Cruz…” He sighed. “The beautiful Magdalena Falfan de los Godos.”
“So, you’re married?” Austin couldn’t help but think of his own marriage plans.
The grizzled man leaned forward as if he were about to convey a big secret. “I have two wives. When I fled Mexico, I had to leave Magdalena behind. But a man needs a woman, so I met and married pretty Candace Metcalf.” Bean looked off into the distance. “Someday, I’ll go back to Magdalena.” He winked at Austin. “But don’t tell Candace, she thinks she’s the only one.”
“I won’t.” Austin was amused, wondering what either woman saw in the man. “You’ve done well to have been through so much.”
Bean shrugged. “It helps when you speak the language and know where all the skeletons are buried. The revolutionary leaders in power now are men I fought alongside. Of course, they know where my skeletons are buried too. Because of Magdalena, I can’t get an empresario grant, but they did let me have the Indians.” He laughed again. “I think I got the short end of the deal.”
“I met Chief Richard Fields, he said he fought with Jackson too. Did you know him then?”
Bean nodded. “Yea, he’s a decent fella. Doesn’t have the patience of a piss ant. In that way, he’s as bad as Edwards and his brother.”
Wanting to steer the subject back to the land dispute, Austin enquired. “How many grants has Edwards made?”
“Thirty-two as far as I know. So far, he’s only sold one man’s land to someone else. But who knows what will happen. Edwards’ antics are pitting the old inhabitants against the new.” He waved his hand around. “We live in a volatile part of the country. To the east, across the river, is Neutral Ground. Spain and the United States can’t decide who it belongs to, so it’s full of outlaws and fugitives. To the north is Indian country, to the South is Stephen F. Austin’s colony and Nacogdoches is full of Mexican loyalists. It’s a powder keg, I tell you.”
“I’m concerned. I bought my land under the old system.”
“I hear you.” Bean nodded. “Almost a year ago, there was a scuffle when Samuel Norris and Chichester Chaplin vied for Alcalde. Norris had held the position a long time but Edwards wanted his son-in-law, Chaplin, to have it. They held a vote and Chaplin won, but Edwards was accused of stuffing the ballot box. The Mexicans reversed the election and put Norris back in power, but this isn’t over, mark my words. Mexico has declared Edwards’ grant to be null and void, but he’s acting like that never happened and people are supporting him on it.”
Austin picked up a stick and held the end in the fire. “I feel conflicted. My allegiance isn’t to Mexico, but I don’t want to lose my land just because it wasn’t part of Edwards’ grant. If he wins the argument, I might be forced to forfeit my deed.”
“If you’re like me, they could try, but I’d go down fighting.” Bean grinned and Austin had to laugh. The old man still had a lot of fight left in him.
They’d both bedded down for the night and by the time Austin rose, Bean was long gone.
With a little more insight into the problem, Austin broke camp and continued on his journey.
CHAPTER NINE
Back at the cabin, Jolie was up early. She’d had trouble sleeping. For one thing, she missed Austin something fierce. The bed had seemed huge and she’d tossed and turned for hours. Finally, she’d called Sandy over and urged him up on the bed. He’d taken to the idea with glee, pushing his head under the pillow and rolling on his back. Jolie laughed, knowing that Sandy would probably jump up in the bed once Austin returned. “We’ll both be in trouble, boy. Your daddy won’t approve of you sleeping in his bed.” No matter, for now the dog made it easier for Jolie. She hugged him up and soon dropped off to sleep.
Her slumber was soon disturbed.
A loud blood-curdling scream rent the air.
Jolie jumped and Sandy began barking ferociously. She grabbed onto the dog and sat up. “What was that?”
Another scream ripped through the night. Jolie rose and went to the fireplace, trying to revive the dying embers. Austin usually would rise in the night to keep a bit of fire going, but she’d let it die down. Once she had a blaze, Jolie stood and went to the window, making sure the shutter was closed tightly. As she stood, peeping out through the narrow crack, yet another scream sounded – this time closer.
Even though the noise reminded her of a woman or how a banshee might sound, she knew it was a panther. A rather large one by the sound of it. “Sandy, I’m afraid we’re in trouble.” She knew there would be no more sleep that night, so she and the dog huddled in front of the fire till morning. When dawn broke, Jolie was in no frame of mind to venture to the outhouse. Instead, she gladly used the chamber pot that Austin had found for her and when Sandy had to go, she walked with him and held onto his fur, urging him to do his business not far from the front door. “We’ll do like Austin asked and stay close until the sun is high in the sky. Up in the day, I’ll go and tend to the livestock.”
The panther made her nervous, but she was even more nervous about what Austin might find in Nacogdoches. Would he be able to assure himself that his claim would not be challenged? Would it ever be safe for her to go there? She crossed her arms around her middle tightly. She’d never be able to reveal her past to anyone else. Hiding her real identity was the only way she’d be able to preserve her freedom. Even if she wasn’t sent to Garrett Thomas, as far as the state of Louisiana was concerned, she was a criminal, a runaway slave. If the authorities in Texas found out the truth, would she be sent back? The idea of being torn from Austin’s arms scared her to death. She shivered. “Hurry home, Austin,” she whispered. “I need you.”
* * *
Entering Nacogdoches, Austin took in the sights. Halting his horse on the top of a high hill just east of the city, he surveyed the area. It was hard to believe that this bustling little community was only two days’ journey from his isolated cabin. There was a fort here, even a college. The dirt on the streets was packed tight and smooth. In front of some stores, paving blocks made from Osage wood were laid out so the few ladies wouldn’t trail their skirts in the dust or the mud. He urged his mount forward, passing wagons pulled by teams of mules, and even the stage coach headed east toward Louisiana.
As he crossed La Nana Creek, Austin was reminded of the legend of Father Margil, one of the first things he’d learned after moving to the area. Since he’d come to Texas, wet weather had prevailed, but a century ago, this was not the case.
A severe drought had hit the area and crops were dying, the Indians were leaving the mission and settlers were rethinking their decision to move to the wilderness of Texas. One night, after intense prayer over the situation, Father Margil had a vision. Taking his staff, he walked down the dry creek bed of La Nana until he came to a steep bluff. Seeing an outcropping of rock and dirt, he struck it with his staff like the patriarch Moses, and a life-giving stream of water poured forth, saving the village and writing the name of Father Margil in the annals of history.
As far as Austin knew, the water from the spring still flowed.
As he guided the horse and wagon down the hill and into town, the smell of food made his stomach grumble. Needing nourishment, he stopped at a small shop that sold meat pies. Entering the establishment, he was greeted by a man who stood by a stone fireplace, tending fragrant pastries, similar to empanadas. “Hungry, stranger?”
“Yes, I’d like two of those, please.” He held out a coin in payment. “I’m Austin McCoy. Where did you learn to cook those?”
“Frank Click.” He shook Austin’s hand. “I learned this recipe from an old woman in Natchitoches, Louisiana. Ever been there?”
“I came through it on my way here from Tennessee.”
As Austin took his first bite, he took a moment to enjoy it. “I found it odd how the name of that town is so near to this one, Natchitoches and Nacogdoches.”
“You know why, don’t you?” the man asked.
“No.”
“I can’t swear it’s true, but I was told that an old Caddo Indian chief who lived next to the Sabine River had two sons. One was named Nacogdoches and one was named Natchitoches. He ruled this whole territory, including both sides of the river. When his boys became men, he wanted to give them a territory of their own. He left instructions that on the date of his death, his two sons were to be taken to the river and sent in opposite directions. After three days’ journey, they were to stop and build a village. The two territories would be far enough apart to have their own hunting grounds, yet close enough to band together against any common enemy.”
“That’s an interesting story,” Austin agreed. “Heard anymore tall tales?” he teased.
The man pointed to a piece of paper nailed to the wall. “I guess you heard about the man-eater we’ve got wandering the woods.”
Austin followed the other man’s gaze. Although the proprietor was speaking of the bear, the sign was about something else. With his heart in his throat, he moved closer. The document was a wanted poster, a reward for the capture of women. The names were familiar. Sally, Margarete and Juliette Dumas. There was a rough sketch and a description of each. Seeing his Jolie’s name and a crude representation of her beautiful face caused bile to rise in his throat. His eyes scanned the words: Dumas is a light-skinned mulatto with fine dark hair and pale eyes. Identifying marks: a dark birthmark on the palm of her right hand. Reward: $50 for return of Sally and Margarete, $150 for return of Dumas.
Contact the Nacogdoches Alcalde.
Austin swallowed nervously. Garrett wanted Jolie returned and he would pay dearly to get her back. He understood. Austin would pay dearly to keep her. Passing a worried hand over his eyes, he realized that people would be looking for her, and if they found her and identified her as Juliette Dumas, she’d be returned to her rightful owner.
Rightful owner.
The idea of anyone owning the woman he loved turned his stomach.
The only person she belonged to was him.
“Those women escaped when the bear ate the slave trader, Coffi. He’d been through these parts before. A nasty fellow,” Frank muttered.
“Has there been news on any of these women?” He thought of Armand Pierce and his wife. Would they think of Jolie if they saw this wanted poster?
“No. Although I heard they did find the remains of a woman, the doc thinks it might be one of those slaves.”
Margarete, he thought, remembering what Jolie told him.
“I’m sure they’re long gone by now, I would be,” he pretended nonchalance as he finished his meal. He’d just been about to leave when he noticed another sign. Going to it, he discovered Pierce had been right. Haden Edwards was calling for every settler to produce his deed and show it at the Alcalde’s office.
With a sense of uneasiness, Austin bid the shop keeper good-bye. Untying his horse from the railing of the store, he bounded up onto the seat of the buckboard and clicked his tongue, urging the horse down the street and around the corner to the Alcalde’s office. Every settlement of any consequence had one individual appointed by the Mexican Government to be its liaison in the community, a judge, a magistrate, one who handled all disputes – about land or otherwise. The Alcalde for Nacogdoches had been Samuel Norris. Austin had no idea who he’d find behind the desk.
After securing his horse, Austin stepped up on the wooden sidewalk and tapped on the Alcalde’s door. After hearing a gruff call to enter, he pushed open the slightly creaky door and went in to find a harried looking man staring at a plethora of papers scattered over a desk.
“Yes, may I help you?”
Austin removed his hat and stood there, waiting for the man to raise his head and meet his eye. When he did, Austin spoke. “Mr. Norris, my name is Austin McCoy. I’ve come here to see if you can give me any assurance that the ownership to my land will go uncontested. I have here,” he removed the deed from his pocket, “a legal deed showing my purchase of the land from a man named Nathan Davis, the Alcalde over in the San Augustine community. I understand there is a bit of controversy, a chance that my claim might be in jeopardy.”
The man rested his hands on top of the papers, took a deep breath and replied. “Well, I’m not Samuel Norris. I’m Adolphus Simpson, just holding down the fort until somebody decides they know what the hell is going on. I wish I could tell you that you didn’t have anything to worry about, but I can’t.” He threw up his hands in disgust. “Don’t repeat me, or I’ll be out on my ear, but this Haden Edwards is a money-grubbing man intent on buttering his own biscuit. He’s spouting all the right things, wanting independence, but what he’s really after is money and power.”
Austin pressed his lips together. Damn! “What can I do to protect myself?”
Simpson held out his hand. “Let me see that deed.”
Austin relinquished it, and the older gentleman adjusted his spectacles so he could read the handwriting easier. “Looks to be in order to me. I’ll make a note of it in the registrar’s records. Although, one man has already been evicted off his land. A Mexican, of course. You’re lucky to be white.” He gave the deed back. “Norris got the man his land back, but you see where that act got Norris. He’s not here.”
Mr. Simpson rose and went to a cabinet, taking a quill and entered Austin’s information in the ledger.
“You never told me what I could do to ensure the same thing doesn’t happen to me.”
The old man shrugged. “Damn, if I know. This whole thing has gotten out of hand.” Adolphus pointed to a chair. “Take a load off.”
Austin pulled out the chair from the edge of the desk and sat down. “How did this all get started?”
Returning to his seat, Mr. Simpson sat down and propped his feet on a pulled-out drawer. “Well, about this time last year, Edwards recruited about fifty families to emigrate from the states. When the Mexicans gave him his empresario contract, he was required to organize a militia comprised of the local residents. When he was through, the members of his little force elected Sepulveda as their leader. This angered Edwards and he threw out the election and put himself in Sepulveda’s place. Then Edwards just went nuts, calling for all new elections. Norris was nominated for Alcalde by the townspeople and Edwards nominated his son-in-law, Chichester Chaplin, supposedly to represent the new immigrants.”
“I don’t have to guess who won.”
“Nope. Chaplin won and folks complained to the political chief down in Bexar. They told Bexar that something was fishy about the election. Bexar overturned the election and put Norris back into the job, but Edwards refused to work with him.”
“What did Edwards do?”
Simpson chuckled. “He got the hell out of Texas. I don’t know if he was afraid of repercussions or if he just went to recruit more settlers from the states. He left his younger brother, Benjamin, in charge. But the boy can’t button his own breeches. By the time Haden returned, Mexico had revoked his land grant and told the Edwards brothers to get out of the colony.”
“How much money does Haden have invested in all of this?” The more Austin heard, the more he realized how serious this all could be.
“Fifty thousand dollars. He’s back now, pretending nothing has happened with Mexico.”
“Well, is everything pretty peaceful now?” He patted his deed. “As you can see, I live too far away to keep up on the daily happenings.”
“The answer to your question is yes and no. Here in town, everything’s fine. But there are some rumblings. Another new settler refused to purchase a merchant license when he wanted to do some trading with the Indians. Bean, the Indian agent, came in and reported him and the immigrant was arrested. And just before Thanksgiving, Martin Parmer and thirty-nine of the new colonists came riding into town and arrested Norris, Sepulveda and Edwards.”
“Edwards?” Austin was shocked.
“They were all charged with oppression and corruption. Edwards was paroled, of course. If you ask me, I think this whole thing was his idea. The others were found guilty in a kangaroo court, expelled from their positions and banned from running for another public office. And that’s why I’m here, serving as the temporary Alcalde.”
“What did they hope to gain by all of this?” Austin was confused.
Leaning forward Simpson whispered. “Parmer killed a man a few weeks earlier. Norris was about to throw the book at him. With Norris gone, the murder charges will go away.”
“Unless you throw the book at him, instead.”
Simpson held up his hands. “Not me. I may be old, but I’m not an old fool. Those charges can wait until there’s some stability. For the last few months, Edwards is rumbling about a revolt. He’s even pulling the Indians into it.”
“Yes, I got wind of that. Chief Fields dropped by to see me the other day, wanting to trade for some beef.”
“Well, this is a bigger trade. Edwards offered them clear title to the rest of Texas north of Nacogdoches in exchange for armed support of his efforts.”
“Damn. Ellis Bean told me we’re sitting on a powder keg; I think he’s right.”
“The keg’s getting closer to blowing than you might think.” At Austin’s inquisitive look, Simpson explained. “About five days ago, the Edwards brothers invaded Nacogdoches with thirty settlers and seized the old Stone Fort.”
“So, this is war?” Austin couldn’t believe his ears. He’d stopped in this office for information and found out far more than he’d wanted to know. “Why isn’t anyone in town talking about this?” He thought of the man in the pie shop.
