Godsend (Hell Yeah! Heritage), page 15
Simpson looked sad. “They’re going on with their lives. If this matter isn’t happening in front of their eyes, for them it’s not happening. No one is getting killed, there’s no real fighting, and the people here in town aren’t big land holders. Their homes aren’t in jeopardy. Edwards does business with them and they don’t really see what he’s doing to people out in the countryside. Besides, he’s a flamboyant figure. He’s rich and he’s loud. Have you heard he’s trying to rename this part of Texas? He’ calling it Fredonia, the Fredonia Republic.” Simpson laughed again. “Hell, if it wasn’t so damn serious, it would be funny. If you get a chance, ride by the Fort, he’s put up a new flag, one with a white stripe and a red one, and he’s bragging about how he’s got all the Indians on his side, twenty-three tribes. I hear tell he’s sent an emissary to Louisiana to get help from the states and one down south to ask aid from Stephen F. Austin’s colony.”
“Do you think he’ll get it?” Austin was trying to digest all that he’d heard. “This is sounding like it could end up a bloodbath to me, if all of these forces converge to fight.”
“I hope not, but I’m keeping a close watch on things.” He rubbed his fairly concave belly. “Well, it’s getting close to my eating time. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Austin started not to say anything more, but Adolphus Simpson had been easy to talk to. With all of the news he’d learned, some might think this wasn’t the time to concern himself with marriage, but to Austin, a life with Jolie was more important than his land or what flag was flying over the town. “Yes, I need one more bit of information. I’m looking to get married. Do we have a man of God at the mission who could perform the ceremony?”
“Married?” He laughed. “Do tell! Well, congratulations.” He smiled, then frowned. “Well, I wish you well. Marrying my wife wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made. She’s the crankiest, goldarned woman I’ve ever seen.”
“About the priest…?”
Simpson waved his hand. “I don’t know. De Leon was supposed to visit, check out the place and see if he wanted to take us on. He may still be here and he may not, the Padres don’t check in with me.”
Austin was about to leave. “But…if you’re a mind to, you could go ahead and register and I’ll grant you a marriage contract.” He gave Austin a wink. “That way you could start the honeymooning and just let the Friar make the motions over you.” He did a half-ass genuflect in the air.
Despite the man’s crudeness, Austin could see the wisdom. “She doesn’t need to be here?”
“No. The husband is the head of the family. Right? Just sign both of your names in this ledger.” He went back to the cabinet and took down another oversize leather bound book. “Put down the little lady’s full name and where she’s from. The next time I’m out your way, I’ll stop in and meet her. We’ll get her signature then.” He slapped Austin on the back. “If I’m still Alcalde, you never know these days.”
Austin was just about to do what he said when his eye caught on another of the Wanted Posters nailed to an adjacent wall. A cold chill ran down his spine. He couldn’t do it. It was just too risky. “Well, she does have her heart set on a church wedding.” He backed off. “I expect I’d better wait.”
Simpson laughed. “Well, I see who might be wearing the pants in your family.”
Austin didn’t laugh. The joke didn’t bother him, but everything else put together had soured his stomach.
“All right, Mr. McCoy.” Simpson reached for his hat. “I guess my last word of advice to you would be to keep your gun loaded and be ready to fight for what’s yours. Go to the people you trust the most and talk to them, have a plan to contact one another if the need arises. The winds of war are blowing; a spirit of revolution is rising. I’m mighty afraid innocent people are going to get caught up in it, be forced to take sides just to protect what they consider theirs.”
Protect what they consider theirs.
Austin heard his words and applied them in his head to Jolie’s predicament, he knew a chance existed that someone would find out the truth and want to hurt her. He vowed at that moment to protect her in any way necessary.
Having received little satisfaction, he left. Before he set out home, he’d follow Adolphus Simpson’s advice and go talk to the man he trusted the most.
* * *
Jolie lay on her back in the grass, tickling her own nose with a dandelion. Sandy lay snoring beside her. She was already tired and the day was only half over. Feeding the livestock was fun, but she’d fell twice trying to lug the big bundles of dried grass to the pens. To complicate matters, when she opened the gate to feed the pigs, one of the smaller ones escaped.
“Come back here, you little slippery scoundrel!”
She’d taken after the small animal like a madwoman, waving her arms, and yelling at the top of her voice. The pig thought the devil herself was after him and ran rampant toward the creek squealing at the top of his lungs. She chased it right to the water, made a grab for the pink terrified piglet and missed. When it veered right, she didn’t. Instead, she plunged head first into the water. Rising from the chilly waters, gasping, she had to laugh out loud to see that the pig had stopped and was gazing at her with his mouth open. She knew it was probably hassling for breath, but to her it looked as if it were laughing at her predicament.
Once she was back on dry land, it didn’t take long until she realized a full scale attack wasn’t going to work, then she decided to sneak up it. Pretending to ignore the pig, she moved at an angle – not looking at him – and whistling a little tune. To her relief, the little fella stopped to root for an acorn…and when he did - - she pounced!
Squee! Squee!
“Gotcha!” Holding onto him with both arms wrapped tight around his squiggly form, she made her way back to the pig pen. “You led me on a merry chase, Mr. Pig.” By the time she got the little tyke back to safety, she had more mud on herself than any of the hogs watching the spectacle.
Letting out a shaky breath, she had collapsed on the ground.
And now, she was almost half asleep, drying in the warmth of the winter sun.
Woof!
With a start, Jolie opened her eyes to see what had disturbed Sandy. A noise to her right caused her to jerk her head in that direction. To her shock, she saw two moccasin clad feet standing right at her nose. Jumping up, she covered her mouth to keep from screaming. An Indian woman stood next to her, her face a solemn mask.
“Hello.” Jolie asked in a shaky voice. “What do you want?” Sandy barked and growled. Jolie spoke to him gently, reassuringly. “Everything’s okay, boy.” She didn’t want them to hurt the dog for trying to protect her.
The regal woman, dressed so much like Jolie, nodded to her. “I am Ama. My village is a day and half’s journey away. We are Cherokee.” She pointed north. “We have come to the water to gather leaves and grasses. A sickness has come upon my village, a great fever. People are dying. We saw you digging roots and choosing plants that we did not understand.” She pointed toward the woods and Jolie saw two or three other women standing there. A man accompanied them, she could see that he carried a bow.
“You’re not alone.” Jolie couldn’t keep from trembling, knowing she was severely outnumbered.
“No, one of those with me is our medicine woman. She does not speak your tongue, but she dreamed of you last night. Inola said you are a powerful medicine woman too. She says you can help us.”
“I am not powerful.” Jolie felt weak with fear.
“Inola says you are. Please help. We are dying.” She met Jolie’s gaze with sad eyes. “My brother is sick. I beg you to help us.”
The grief and fear in the woman’s voice touched Jolie’s heart. How devastated she would be if Austin were sick. “I will help you if I can. I can gather my things and follow you to your village. I have to be back soon, though. My…man…he will worry.”
Ama shook her head. “No need. Since we left our village, Tsula,” she pointed at the others again, “the little one, she has become sick. If you could look at her, doctor her, see if your medicine would help. We could gather more roots and leaves to treat everyone else, if what you do helps her.”
Jolie didn’t know what they’d do, if what she did for the girl didn’t help.
But what choice did she have?
Jolie didn’t know if Austin would approve or not, she felt he probably would. Either way, she could not say no. “Bring her to me.” She held out her hand. “Let’s go in to the cabin where my roots and herbs are located.”
They waited until the others caught up with them. Once the women and the warrior drew near, Jolie could see the youngest one did look ill. Her eyes were sunken and her skin was pallid with a jaundiced cast. “Oh, no,” Jolie whispered. She hoped she was wrong, but she was afraid this was a disease her grandmere had warned her about.
Yellow fever.
They hastened into the cabin and Jolie bade the girl to lie on the bed. She felt her skin and it was, indeed, very hot. She looked into Tsula’s eyes and saw the whites were no longer white, they were yellow. “Has she been throwing up?”
“Yes, but there is nothing left in your stomach.”
Jolie spoke to Tsula. “Does your head hurt?”
The girl glanced at Ama with confusion. Ama spoke to her in Cherokee. Tsula answered in a low weak voice.
“Yes, she says many buffalo are thundering through her head.”
Jolie smiled sadly. “I’m so sorry.”
She went to a tall wardrobe where Austin kept his clothes and removed a wooden box. Inside, she took out some herbs and leaves: feverwort, dogwood, willow bark and the seeds from the yellow flowers with black centers that grew profusely in the surrounding woods. Going to the water barrel, she dipped a mug full and returned to Ama. “Get her to drink this while I heat some water to make a tea.”
Ama did as she asked, the others stood by, still and focused on her every move. Once the water was warm, Jolie sprinkled some of the herbs into the water, stirring them until the color changed from clear to pale yellow. Walking over, she offered it to the girl to drink. Addressing Ama and Inola, she spoke. “I will send more of these herbs with you.”
After explaining to Ama what the herbs were, she presented the box to Inola. “You will need to gather more. Whomever you treat, have them drink a great deal of water before and after. I will do my part here, I will light a candle for her and the others, praying to my gods for healing. You pray to yours. This is yellow fever and it is a hard disease to fight.”
Ama turned and spoke to the others in their own language, then faced Jolie.
“Let us see you pray.”
Jolie didn’t know what to do, this was one of the things her grandmere had warned her about. Our ways are not understood. Carefully guard our secrets.
A groan from Tsula made up her mind.
“Very well.”
She lit a candle, then took it next to the bed. Pulling a chair up near Tsula, Jolie placed a hand on her small body and began to pray. As with others who practiced their religion, they had learned to mask their gods by mixing their identities with the Catholic saints. With her free hand, she passed the lit candle in patterns over Tsula’s body. The girls jaundiced eyes widened in fear. Jolie gave her a reassuring smile. “Hand me more water, please. And a rag.”
Ama refilled the mug and brought it and a cloth to Jolie. She poured out an offering on the floor, an offering to Legba or St. Peter, as he was called. Next, she dripped a few drops of water on Tsula’s forehead, her chest and then her feet. Placing the mug on the floor, she took the candle and fanned the flame, causing it to flare. With slow movements, she moved the candle across the girl’s body, letting wax drip onto her skin. The girl hissed, unnerved but unhurt. Continuing her prayer, she wove the Christian scriptures in with pleas to her gods, asking for the fever to dissipate, for healing to come.
Jolie continued, repeating the process, then taking the rag and soaking it in the last of the water. Gently, she bathed Tsula’s face, focusing all of the intent she could muster into a demand to the gods that the girl be healed.
All the while, the other Indians stood solemnly and observed. The warrior stayed by the door, as if guarding the proceedings. Inola watched everything carefully, as if she were absorbing the knowledge for later use.
Finally, the candle burned down and Jolie had done all she could. “Take her home. Give her more water and herbs in a few hours, keep bathing her with water and pray to your gods.”
“Thank you...” She paused, not knowing what to call Jolie.
“Jolie, my name is Jolie.”
“Thank you, Jolie.” Ama gave her a small bow. “You are our friend.” She motioned to the man. Coming forward, he picked up the small girl and all the women filed out behind him, taking the box of medicines Jolie had gathered.
Once they were gone, she sank to the floor by the door. Sandy came to sit by her. Putting her arm around him, she pulled the dog close. “I hope I helped the girl.” She had no idea if her medicine and prayers would work, she hoped they would. This was the first chance she’d had to put Grandmere’s teachings into practice.
Glancing out the crack of the window, she saw the sun was going down. “We’d better get up and finish our chores, night will fall soon.”
Her mind flew to Austin. She hoped he was well. “He’ll be home soon, we just have to be patient,” she told the dog who was staring at her, trying to understand what she was saying. “I miss him so much.” Thoughts of him led to worries arising over her situation. Having to confess the truth to Austin had been hard. His support had been an amazing blessing, but she worried time and distance would bring second thoughts to his mind. Would he regret loving her? What if someone came for her? Putting Austin in danger was something she refused to do.
CHAPTER TEN
“I’ll take three yards of that green checked gingham.” Austin smiled, thinking how pretty Jolie would be in a dress made from the material. He had no doubt she could sew, she seemed adept at everything a young woman should know.
“All right, Mr. McCoy. What else can I get for you?” Frost Thorn asked, jotting down the prices on a pad to be added up for a total. “You got any hides or honey for me?”
Austin surveyed all the supplies laid out that he’d requested. He’d also chosen a ready-made dress, it looked to be too big for Jolie, but she’d be able to alter it. An order had been placed for a few more items, but since they’d have to be shipped from back East, it would be a month or more before they’d be delivered. “No, but I have money.” Snapping his fingers, he placed another order. “Shoes. I’d like two pairs of shoes.” How could he forget? Holding his hands apart a few inches. “Her foot is about this big. I need warm boots and something more…feminine.”
“All right. Looks like you measured off a size five.” Frost set a pair of boots on the counter. “We’ll have to order the others.”
“Oh, and ribbon. I need ribbon and perfume and…”
Thorn held up his hand. “I have saddles, gunpowder, and whiskey. No ribbon and no perfume.”
Austin looked disappointed and Thorn laughed. “Austin, curiosity might kill the cat, but who are you buying all of these gee-gaws for?”
“Yes, Mr. McCoy, tell us.” Thorn’s new wife, Susan, came sidling up next to them.
Austin weighed his words. Obviously, he’d have to say something. These female clothing items certainly weren’t for him. “I have a fiancé, Mrs. Frost. We’re to be married.”
“Congratulations!” Susan exclaimed, clapping her hands. “We are so happy for you.”
Another woman came near, one he didn’t recognize. She seemed curious also, listening to every word Austin had to say.
“We’re happy. I plan on building onto the cabin, make more room.”
“Well, we’ll have to get out there to meet her. Won’t we Martha?” She turned to the other woman, who agreed readily.
Austin didn’t know how that would work, but the Thorns were wealthy. Frost owned his own carriage. They possibly took trips back East fairly frequently. Traveling to his neck of the woods might be easy for them. Although he had money, wasting it on a stage coach trip seemed foolish.
“You would be very welcome, Mrs. Thorn.” He included the other lady in his nod.
Once he’d paid for the items, Austin gathered his purchases and stored them in the wagon. He had to make two trips and Thorn helped him with the big bags of flour, sugar, grain and coffee. Austin was pleased with the supplies; he wouldn’t have to restock for some time. After he was loaded, he climbed up to the seat and took the reins. One thing stood out in his mind. Frost hadn’t said one word about Edwards or the rebellion, which was a little strange, considering his wife was Edwards daughter. Maybe, since he was a businessman, he didn’t intend to offend either side. “Oh, well, I have other fish to fry.” Flicking the reins, he told his horse, “Giddy-up.”
With two more stops to make, Austin was anxious to start his journey home. As he headed out of town to the site of the old Spanish mission, he had to pass the Stone Fort. To call the building a fort was misleading, it was originally the private residence of Antonio Gil y’Barbo, one of the men who founded the settlement. Constructed of native iron ore stone, the building had served as everything from a make-shift jail to the office of the very first newspaper in Texas, Gaceta de Tejas. Sure enough, like Simpson had said, a red and white flag flew on a pine pole, stripped of its bark. The words Independence, Liberty, and Justice had been printed on it in big letters. Coming closer, he could see signatures written below the words, signatures of people like Haden Edwards, Martin Parmer and Chief Richard Kula Fields.
“Do you have business here, Sir?”
The voice, coming from above him, startled Austin a bit. He jerked his head up to see an armed sentry standing on the second story of the building. “Just passing by, headed to the Mission,” he raised his hand and continued on his way. The last thing he wanted to do was antagonize a man with a gun when he had no just cause.
