Beyond the Quiet Hills (19 page)

“I guess I am. I'd like to have a coat sometime made out of beaver. It's so soft and smooth.”

“Maybe we'll catch enough to get skinned and you can have one.”

Amanda smiled and her large eyes looked very pretty at the moment.

Sarah had eaten heartily and suddenly she asked, “What about your birthday, Abigail?”

“I want to have a party,” Abigail said, “and then all the girls can stay all night.”

“Can I come?” Sarah demanded.

“Why, of course you can, and you, too, Amanda.” The girls began to talk about the birthday party, while Andrew and Jacob said little to each other. Finally, after they had eaten, Andrew said, “I guess we'd better head for home.”

“It's too early!” Sarah protested.

“We've got to clean the fish, and it's a long way.”

Somehow the fun had gone out of the fishing trip for Andrew, and he did not say half a dozen words on the way home. When they reached the Taylors' they left a third of the fish, which Andrew and Jacob cleaned. When they left, Amanda came and whispered to Andrew, “Thanks for taking me fishing. It was fun.”

“Why, sure. You're welcome, Amanda.”

They reached the Stevenses house shortly thereafter, where they again divided the fish and the boys cleaned them. When they got ready to leave, Abigail was standing close to Jacob. She smiled up at him. “Thanks for coming to bring me fishing.”

“Well, actually it was Andy's idea,” Jacob said.

Abigail turned her smile on Andrew and said, “Thank you very much, Andrew. It was thoughtful of you.”

Suddenly Jacob reached down, took Abigail's hand, and kissed it. Abigail, taken off guard, flushed, her neck and cheeks growing crimson. It was the first time anything like that had happened to her, and she did not know what to say.

Andrew was taken by surprise, also. His jaw tightened, and he whirled and stalked away.

Sarah followed him quickly, and she said, “Did you see Jacob kiss her hand?”

“I'm not blind!”

“You're mad, aren't you?”

“No, I'm not mad! Now, will you leave me alone!”

“You are mad! Do you think I can't tell?”

Andrew said nothing, and Sarah, who had known her share of teasing by her brother, could not resist saying, “Well, you won the fishing match, but it looks like Jacob seems to have done a little of his own kind of fishing! I think he caught Abigail.”

Andrew gave her a furious look, then twisted his head. Jacob was still standing in front of Abigail, and Andrew could see that Abigail's eyes were alight and her lips were smiling. He whirled and said, “Come on! You don't have to talk so much!”

****

Jacob leaned over and blew out the candle, then lay back on his bunk exhausted. After they had returned from the fishing trip, they still had to finish the garden, then clean the fish for their own family and do a number of other chores. Now the corn-shuck mattress felt inviting as he relaxed and thought back on the day's activities. At the supper table Sarah had given Hawk and Elizabeth a full recital of the fishing trip—including Jacob kissing Abigail's hand.

Jacob squirmed slightly, for he had been embarrassed. Neither Hawk nor Elizabeth had teased him about it. Hawk had merely said, “I guess young men will do things like that.”

“Yes, you might learn a few manners from Jacob, Andy,” Elizabeth had said. She had meant it innocently enough, but Andrew had taken it ill and had dropped his face toward his plate, saying not another word.

Jacob knew that Andrew was upset, and somehow it pleased him that he had evened the score. Andrew was a better fisherman, but he knew that he had won the day with Abigail. He turned his face toward Andrew, who was lying in the other bed, and grinned with satisfaction. “Hey, Andy,” he said. “I guess it'll be a good party. Abigail's, I mean.”

“I wasn't invited,” Andrew said.

“Why, you know she'll invite you.”

“No, I don't know it.”

Usually Andrew was cheerful, but there was a surly quality in his answer that Jacob could not fail to notice. However, he continued to talk about the party until finally he grew sleepy. “Well, I'm looking forward to the party,” he said, then closed his eyes and smiled as thoughts of the day faded into dreams.

Sleep did not come as easily to Andrew. As he lay there he, too, could not help reviewing the day. It had been a bad day for him—one that had started out well but had fallen apart. Now he tried, unsuccessfully, to put it out of his mind and go to sleep. He kept seeing the scene over and over again of Jacob reaching for Abigail's hand. He could not forget how she had flushed prettily, and her eyes had lit up at the gesture. Andrew was an imaginative boy, and he lay there wondering how he could have made the day different. Obviously Abigail had been much taken with Jacob's wit, and for the first time since Jacob had come, Andrew resented his stepbrother. He thought of Jacob, who was taller, with rather dramatic good looks, and he felt homely and awkward.

Outside he heard night noises, the cry of a night bird far off, and then later the lonesome wail of a coyote that always made him slightly sad. Just as he was about to drop off, he had a sudden picture flash into his mind of Jacob leaning over and kissing Abigail's hand, and he gritted his teeth and wished that he had never agreed to a fishing trip!

Chapter Thirteen

The Little Carpenter and
The
Carpenter

As the warm days of summer fell upon Watauga, Elizabeth felt the clock of the seasons moving slowly. She had walked through the garden and reveled in the herbs that were growing, and the blossoming of the flowers brought a new joy to her.

One morning when Sarah was away visiting Abigail, Elizabeth said, “It's time for you boys to have a bath.”

“Aw, Ma!” Andrew grumbled. “Who needs a bath? Indians never take baths!”

“That's their business,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Now, you go down to the creek, both of you, and see that you wash off good.” Moving over to the cabinet, she produced an old stoneware mug and filled it with a handful of soft soap. “Mind you wash good!” she warned them.

The two boys actually welcomed the trip to the creek. They had found a favorite spot to swim—a wide, deep hole with a sandy bottom where they could dive from an overhanging tree trunk. Now they made their way there, carrying the stoneware mug and coarse towels made of tow. Soon they reached the creek and for half an hour splashed and yelled, falling in head first, then feet first, turning flips as they laughed and shivered in the cold water.

Finally, after their swim was over, they rubbed their bodies with the soap Elizabeth had made. It was a gray jelly of a soft texture, and they worked it into a lather with the cool water of the creek. Then, having lathered all over, they splashed again until the soap washed free. Overhead a red-tailed hawk circled, seeming to eye them curiously, and from far off came the high-pitched cries of plovers. It was a plaintive cry, and one that always made Jacob feel peculiar, but it was a fine day, and finally the two dried off and headed back toward the cabin.

Back at the house, as soon as the boys had left, Elizabeth had carried hot water to her room in a wooden keeler. She brought some of the soft soap in a mug and opened the window so that a breeze came through with a fine tang to it. Outside she could hear the pleasing sound of martins, the birds she loved the most. They were building in the birdhouse that Hawk had built at her request. For a while she watched them—sleek purple and black communal birds that loved each other's company.

Then, standing by the keeler, she began to bathe, spreading the soft, delicate lather over her body. She caressed the growing mound that was the miracle she was so thankful for. She thought again of how happy she was to be having a child that was Hawk's and hers. This little one, to her anyway, represented the bringing together of the two families into one. She seemed to wash away the weariness that had come from all the work of spring. When she was completely covered with a spongy coat of foam, she dipped one foot and then the other in the keeler. She let the drops fall off, and she rinsed carefully with the water that had grown warm. She took a towel and rubbed herself into a rich glow, feeling exuberant with excessive health and the fine day.

When she had finished cleaning up after her bath, she went about her chores until she heard men's voices. Looking out the window, she saw William Bean and James Robertson talking with Hawk and Sequatchie. Moving outside, she listened as they spoke urgently. Bean seemed agitated.

“Chief Attacullaculla came into the village yesterday, Hawk.”

“He's come to negotiate the final settlement?”

“Yes,” Bean nodded. “It's been put off too long for my liking.”

“I think you're right, William,” James Robertson said. He stood half a head taller than Bean and a couple of inches taller than Hawk himself. His lean body seemed to sway in the light breeze, but he displayed a solemnness that caused men to trust in him.

“You'll have to go, Hawk.”

“Why do I have to go?” Hawk said. “I don't have any business there.”

“Yes, you do,” Robertson nodded. “You're an officer of the court of the Watauga Association.”

“That's right, and you'll have to be there. As sheriff, it's your job,” Bean seconded. He glanced over and added, “Sequatchie, we'll ask you to come, too, to serve as an interpreter.”

“When is the meeting?” Hawk asked.

“Tomorrow. Try to be there early.”

Hawk shifted restlessly on his moccasin-shod feet. He had no interest in politics, but he knew it was necessary to settle the business of the ownership of the land. Glancing at Sequatchie, who nodded slightly, he shrugged, saying, “All right. We'll be there.”

****

By the time Hawk and Sequatchie had arrived at the meeting place in the center of the Watauga community, the other officials were already there. There was a hum of voices as Hawk and Sequatchie entered, and men greeted them warmly. It was an informal meeting, and none of the men had worn other than their everyday garb.

“It's a far cry from a meeting of the House of Burgesses,” William Bean said to Hawk. “We'd all be wearing boiled shirts and top hats there.” He looked around, seeing nothing but hunting shirts, woolsey trousers, and the rough clothes they were all accustomed to. “I like it better like this myself,” Bean said. “Who was it that said, ‘Beware of any enterprise that demands the buying of new clothes'?”

“I don't know,” Hawk murmured, “but he was right, whoever it was. How long do you think this will take?”

“Got no idea. Look, I think we're about ready to start.”

The meeting began almost at once, and to Hawk's surprise it was a rather brief meeting. The Little Carpenter, as Chief Attacullaculla was called, had already worked out the details with his own people. They were generous terms, far better than anyone in the settlement had expected. The Little Carpenter was an unobtrusive, even unimpressive figure as he stood up to give the terms. He had a smooth face, as all Cherokee did, but was much smaller than others. His voice was surprisingly deep for a little man, and his eyes moved from point to point, touching on every face in the room as he spoke of what his people had agreed to.

“These terms will be called the ‘Articles of Friendship,'” he said, his voice carrying well to all the listeners. A silence filled the room for a moment as the settlers waited. It would have been within the realm of possibility for the Cherokee to demand an exorbitant sum, and failing to get it, to have brought war against the settlers. William Bean and James Robertson sat there, almost holding their breath, waiting for the terms.

“You will receive a ten-year lease of the lands around the Watauga River,” the Little Carpenter said. “You will pay the Cherokee six thousand dollars merchandise and trade goods, plus muskets and household articles. . . .”

William Bean expelled his breath with an expression of relief. His eyes met those of Robertson, and the two nodded in a pleased manner. Hawk took this in and knew that the Little Carpenter had indeed made good terms insofar as the settlers were concerned.

Sequatchie was pleased, also. He knew that the Cherokee could have asked for more, but he also knew that if they had demanded too much the settlers might simply have refused. That would have caused such bad feelings that it was almost certain a war would have taken place, for the young, hotheaded braves among the Cherokee were longing for a reason to declare war.

Finally the meeting ended, but William Bean suddenly turned to Paul Anderson and said, “Reverend Anderson, some of us would like to see a meeting for the entire community tomorrow. It's the Sabbath day.”

“Why, certainly,” Paul agreed at once. He had no official post in the association, yet his stature as a minister was growing, and both Bean and Anderson knew that it would be well to draw the people together by ending with a service. Besides that, they all admired and respected Paul Anderson, and most of them still nurtured the idea of having him start a church and become their full-time minister.

“That's fine, Reverend,” Bean said. “I'll be sittin' right in the front row. You can start on me, and then that would give the rest of the transgressors a break.”

****

The service the following day was held outdoors in an open space in the middle of the settlement. It was a place the women often used to come to grind their corn in a huge iron pot with a suspended block of wood that could be lowered to crush the grain. The area was filled, and Hawk had brought his family, as had other settlers who lived some distance away from the settlement. He stood beside Elizabeth and glanced down at Jacob, Andrew, and Sarah, who stood beside her. A feeling of pride went through him as he looked at them. It had been something he had missed during his days of solitary wandering through the forest as a long hunter. Now he had a homestead, a warm, tight cabin, a fine, loving wife, three growing, healthy children, and another on the way.
God has been good to me
, he thought as the congregation began to sing another song.