“Hawk, are you happy about it?”
“Yes. Nothing could have made me happier. It's a miracle from God.” He held her close, put his lips on hers tenderly, and then she buried her face against his chest. The two stood there completely and totally happy for that moment, and Elizabeth wished that nothing would ever change.
****
The morning dawned and the cabin was filled with the sound of laughter. There was no time for breakfast, for there were other presents to be exchanged, including sweets made by Elizabeth and Sarah, and handmade things that Hawk, Andrew, and Sequatchie had created themselves.
After the presents were opened, Hawk suddenly said, “Elizabeth has one more present to give us all.”
Everyone turned to Elizabeth and she suddenly flushed. “It's . . . it's really a present for all of us from God.”
Sarah immediately squealed. “Am I going to have a baby sister?”
As soon as his mother nodded, Andrew shook his head. “No, it's going to be a boy, isn't it, Pa? Isn't that what you want?”
“A son would be nice, but a daughter would be all right, too.” He grinned at Sarah and then went over to put his arm around her, saying, “I like girls mighty well, Sarah. They're nice and they smell better than boys. Maybe it will be a girl.”
Everyone was excited, but only Sequatchie noticed that Jacob was saying little. He watched the young man and suddenly knew what he was thinking as clearly as if he had spoken it.
Hawk is going to have a son, and he'll be left out again. He's already envious of Andy's relationship with his father, and now once more he'll feel on the outside
.
Jacob Spencer would have resented Sequatchie's saying such a thing. He sat back, watching the happiness in the faces of everyone, and tried to make himself smile, but, indeed, he did feel left outâan outsider in his own family.
Part Two
Watauga
April 1772-April 1774
For the Lord thy God bringeth thee into a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and depths that spring out of valleys and hills.
Deuteronomy 8:7
Chapter Ten
Meeting at Chota
Sequatchie had risen before dawn, as was his custom, and made his way down to the creek that meandered across the valley. For some time he stood quietly, motionlessly watching the sun shake off the night and cast its rays over the eastern hills. Most men would not have noticed the details of the landscape that absorbed the pale crimson rays of the great sun, but the Cherokee was alert, and his obsidian eyes missed nothing. His quick eye caught the flash of a white tail as a deer a hundred yards away stepped out of the brush and dropped her head to drink. Sequatchie took pleasure in the beauty of the animal, watching the doe as she stepped across the creek, lifting her head from time to time, alertly searching the landscape for possible danger.
The water at his feet bubbled over rounded stones, some of them covered with green moss. Once a large fish broke the water, his huge mouth open, as he enveloped a smaller fish, then fell back with a noisy splash.
“The big fish eats the little fish,” Sequatchie murmured. “That is the way of the forest.” His eyes narrowed, and for a moment he was moved by a black depression that sometimes came upon him. “And that is the way it is with men, also,” he spoke his thought aloud. He knew the history of his people better than most and had the vision to see that there was no stopping the white man. He knew that the ancient ways of the Cherokee were doomed, and he had spent many hours trying to find some way to make the passing of the nation less painful to the tribes. Nevertheless, as he stood soaking in the early beams of the morning sun that now began to throw a long light across the top of the eastern hills, he could find no answers.
A man must do what God has put in his way. The way of the Cherokee is passing, and now we will see what the white man will do to this world
.
When the sun had cleared the ragged tops of the hills, he turned and slowly made his way to the Spencers' cabin. Hearing the sound of voices inside, he called out. At once the door was opened and he was greeted warmly by Elizabeth.
“Come in, Sequatchie. You're just in time for breakfast.”
Hawk was already seated at the table. His face was glowing from a fresh shave, and he looked happy and contented. “You have a positive gift for arriving whenever there's food to be had, my brother,” he grinned.
A light of humor touched Sequatchie's eyes as he sat down across from Hawk. “It would be bad manners not to accept an invitation.”
“Well, you have good manners, then. But I think we'd better eat hearty. It's going to be a hard trip.”
Elizabeth moved quietly around the cabin as the two men talked. She stirred the mush until it was bubbling hot, poured three bowls full, then set them on the table, along with a bowl of fresh butter. Setting down a platter full of fried venison steaks and warmed biscuits, she remarked, “You'd better eat while it's hot.”
Hawk bowed his head and asked a brief blessing. This simple act had been hard for him at first, but he had quickly learned to pray aloud without feeling awkward. Now as he picked up a biscuit and split it with his knife and layered it with the yellow butter, he asked Sequatchie, “How do you think the meeting will go?”
“We will know when we get there.”
After breakfast the two were to be joined by James Robertson and John Bean, William's brother, to leave on a trip to meet with the Cherokee chiefs. The land problem had grown more serious for the Wataugans, and the leaders had felt it wise to make a special quest to speak with the chieftains. Sequatchie had been included to act as an intermediary.
“Have you thought what you will say, Hawk?” Elizabeth asked as she tasted the mush and added a little salt.
“I am leaving that mostly to John and James. From what Bean says, it would be best to ask the Cherokee to sell or to lease the land around the Watauga River.” Chewing thoughtfully on a biscuit, Hawk was silent for a moment, then he lifted his eyes to Sequatchie. “What do you say, friend? What will the Indians do?”
Sequatchie lifted a cup of cider, drank some of it, then shook his head doubtfully. “In every tribe there'll be hotheaded young warriorsâand I'm afraid that's what we'll encounter. Even the chief's son, Dragging Canoe, and other braves like him will want to keep the old ways. They will attempt to sway the nation to fightâto kill the white man if necessary.”
“Are there many of them?”
“I'm afraid there are enough to cause trouble, but a lot of the older chiefs I have already spoken with have more wisdom.” Sadness clouded the dark eyes of the Cherokee, and he added quietly, “I have convinced them that it would be best to adopt the white man's way of life. Most of them see that we must do this, for more and more white men are going to come. In a way,” Sequatchie said suddenly, “as tragic as it is in the eyes of some of my people, some good may come out of this.”
“How is that, Sequatchie?” Elizabeth asked quickly. She had known little of Indians before she moved across the mountains, but this one godly man had changed her entire concept. She knew there were none more loyal or more honest than this tall man who sat across from her, and now she leaned forward to hear his answer.
“Why, as more white men come, the more they will spread the word of the Lord Jesus.”
“Not all the white men who come will be good,” Hawk warned.
“I know, and I hate what those who are greedy and selfish will do to my brothersâand to the land. The time will come when this land will not be what it is now, for the Indians honor the land, but the white man will cut down the trees, plow up the forest floor, kill off all the animals, and one day all this will be gone.” He would have said more, but at that moment Jacob, Andrew, and Sarah entered the room, so he fell silent.
“Pa,” Andrew demanded at once as he plopped down into his chair, “please let me go with you! Maybe I can be of some help.”
Hawk shook his head at once, saying, “Andy, it seems like we go over this every time I leave the house. I need you to stay here and watch out for your mother and your sister.”
“Jacob is here. He can do that.”
“It will take both of you,” Hawk said. “I know things have been quiet lately, but that's exactly the time when you need to be alert. You never know when a hostile raiding party might come through, so I need both of you.”
Jacob had said nothing, but now at these words he felt some resentment. He wanted Hawk to say that
he
alone could take care of the family, even though in all reality he knew this was not true.
Actually, Hawk was doing his best to keep both Andrew and Jacob out of danger, for he knew that the trip he and the others would endure would not be easy. He was slowly learning how to be a father, and he and Elizabeth had talked this over the previous night, agreeing that it would be safer for the two boys to stay on the homestead.
After breakfast the two men rose to leave, and as Hawk pulled his gear together, he mentioned, “Paul and Rhoda must miss having Sequatchie with them on their travels with the Cherokee, but this time I'm glad he's going with us.” He said this more to change the subject, for he could tell that Elizabeth was worried about Jacob's sullen attitude lately.
“I'll be glad when they can come for a visit. I've learned to love Rhoda so much, and of course it's always a joy to have Paul around.”
Hawk came over to her, holding his rifle in his right hand, with a bag slung over his shoulder. He put his left arm around her, drew her close, and ran his hand along her back. They were silent for a moment, and he whispered, “I still liked the idea about a man staying home for a year and pleasing his wife. Those Old Testament Jews had the right idea there.”
Pulling his head down, Elizabeth kissed him fervently, then whispered, “Oh, be careful, Hawk!”
“I'm always careful. I'll be back as soon as I can.”
When the two stepped outside, he found the three youngsters standing beside the cabin and Sequatchie already mounted and holding the lines of the two packhorses.
Hawk turned to Andrew, slapped him on the shoulder, and said, “Good-bye, son. Take care of things.” He reached down, picked Sarah up, and twirled her around until she squealed. “Don't you get any prettier until I get back. You hear me?”
Jacob had watched this, and when Hawk turned to him, he had a momentary desire to go to him, but the same perverse spirit still kept him back.
“When I come back, Jacob,” Hawk said, “we'll have some time together.”
“Good-bye,” Jacob nodded briefly, then watched as Hawk turned to Elizabeth and hugged her again.
“Take care of our little one,” he whispered so quietly that only Jacob, who was standing closer, heard it, then he turned, swung onto his horse, and took the lines from his own packhorse. The two men swung away, and as the family watched them disappear, the last thing they saw was Hawk, who turned and waved to them with his free hand.
As soon as the cabin was out of sight, Sequatchie said, “It's hard to leave your family.”
“Yes, it is. I haven't had one for so long, I'm having to get used to it.”
The two men said little as they made their way to their rendezvous at William Bean's homestead, both filled with their own thoughts. When they reached the clearing around the Bean cabin, James and John were there waiting.
William Bean had come out to see them off, and now he said nervously, “I wish I was going on this trip. I didn't see how I could make it, though.”
“That's all right, William,” Hawk said. “We'll do the best we can without you.”
“All right,” William shrugged. “Get back as quick as you can. Cameron's not going to be put off too much longer. As soon as you return, we'll have to make some decisions about what to do. Off with you, now, and God be with you!” He stood and watched as the four men disappeared into the forest, leading their packhorses. Worry shaded his eyes, and he shrugged his shoulders impatiently, wishing that he could go. Finally, he turned and moved back toward his house.
****
“There it is. That's Chota, the sacred town of the Overhill Cherokee.”
Sequatchie had pulled up his horse as the four men had topped a long crest. Hawk, Bean, and Robertson dismounted and stared down at the village. “It's not much, is it?” Robertson murmured, shading his eyes with his hand.
The village itself was made of longhouses that consisted of uprights of saplings buried in the ground, forming structures some fifteen feet wide and as long as forty feet. Dogs wandered among the children who were playing, and several Cherokee women were smoking meat over a large fire.
“It's been a hard trip,” Hawk murmured. “I don't think my horse could have made it much farther.” He turned to look up at Sequatchie, asking, “Do we just ride in?”
“Yes. You have not noticed our escort?”
“Escort?” Hawk said with surprise and looked around. “You mean we've had folks watching us?”
“For the last ten miles. You've grown careless living in the settlement.”
“I reckon you're right,” Hawk admitted with chagrin. He strolled ahead, his eyes more alert. As they made their way down the slope toward the longhouses, he indeed saw signs of life that he had missed before.
I'd better open my eyes
, he thought grimly.
I don't want to lose my scalp just when I'm starting to live
.
By the time they reached the heart of Chota, a crowd had gathered. Advance scouts had obviously brought word that they were in the vicinity. Most of the men bore arms of some sort, many of them holding ancient muskets, while others kept their tomahawks and bows ready.
“You must be patient,” Sequatchie murmured. “My people are not in as much a hurry as white men.”