Stepping outside the door, he found Sequatchie, Andrew, and Jacob, who had hitched up the wagon and saddled the horses. “All ready?” he asked.
“Sure, Pa,” Andrew said. His hair was wet from where he had stuck it under the pump, and now he stroked his horse on the neck, saying, “Are you going to enter the race, Pa?”
“No, I'll leave that to you young fellows.”
Jacob was already seated on Molly. He leaned over and patted her on the neck, winking at Sequatchie. “How much have you got bet on me, Sequatchie?”
“I never bet on horse races,” Sequatchie said. “It's a foolish thing.”
“Wouldn't be foolish to bet on me,” Jacob bragged. “I plan on winning.”
Sequatchie shot a look at Andrew, who said nothing, but whose face was marked with quiet determination.
Soon the women came out, and all the food was loaded in the wagon. Hawk lifted Hannah up to Elizabeth, who took her, then held young Joshua as Iris climbed in the wagon.
As they pulled out, Andrew said, “I hope things go well today. It means a lot to the Indians.”
“It means a lot to us, too,” Hawk nodded. “We'll just pray that it does.”
****
Zeke Taylor tilted the brown bottle and drank several swallows. He lowered it and coughed violently, and his face turned a raw red hue. He expelled air and gasped for his breath, saying in a coarse whisper, “That stuff's got a kick like a mule.”
“Ahh, you ain't no man, Zeke!” William Isaac Crabtree tipped the bottle, sipped at it, and blinked his eyes. “Come to think of it, it has got a bite.”
The two men were deep in the woods, where they had spent the night. Both of them were dirty and ragged, and they had not shaved in weeks. After Zeke had escaped from jail last summer, with Crabtree's help, they had fled the settlement and gone on an extended trip. Their money had played out, however, and now they had drifted back toward the Watauga settlement.
Crabtree was shaking his head in disgust. “Can't believe them people wantin' to be friends with a bunch of Indians! Only good Indians are the dead ones!”
Zeke sipped cautiously at the fiery alcohol again and then nodded, anger clouding his muddy eyes. “It's that Hawk Spencer and his kind that's done it! Can't mind their own business! They got to be in everybody else's!”
The two men drank until the whiskey was gone. By that time Crabtree had turned mean. “It wouldn't take much for me to go break up that celebration today!”
Zeke Taylor suddenly looked up. He was not as drunk as Crabtree, and now an idea had come to him. It lit his brown eyes, and he studied Crabtree carefully, at the same time egging the man on about the celebration. His talk began to get rougher and more urgent until finally Crabtree kicked at a sapling. With a curse, he said, “I'm goin' to go to that place! Sycamore Shoals, ain't it?”
“That's right, but you know Hawk will be there.”
“I don't care who's there! I'm gonna kill me an Indian!”
Crabtree's threat shocked Zeke Taylor, but he was pleased with it. Both men were drunk enough so that their caution was lowered, and Zeke was thinking of how Hawk had humiliated him.
If a war starts
, he thought,
some men are gonna get killed. And even if Hawk Spencer ain't killed by an Indian, it would be easy to shoot him from behind a tree and make it look like an Indian did it
. He felt big and brave as the whiskey blotted out his natural cowardice, and he said, “Come on! Let's go help 'em celebrate!”
“Celebrate nothing! I'm gonna kill me an Indian!” Crabtree slurred.
****
The celebration at Sycamore Shoals was in full swing. The settlers had come, all who could, including the Spencers and MacNeals, the Stevenses, the Baxters, the Fosters, the Taylors, and Sequatchie, of course. Paul and Rhoda Anderson were also there, showing off their two-and-a-half-month-old daughter, Rachel.
The leaders of the settlement were there, including William and Lydia Bean, who had founded Watauga, James and Charlotte Robertson, members of the Regulators, and John Carter, who had founded a settlement in Carter Valley and was now chairman of the Watauga court.
As Hawk ran his eyes around the crowd that was eating and drinking and laughing loudly, he noted Jacob Brown, who had founded the settlement at Nolichucky, and the Sevier brothers, John and Valentine, along with Charles Robertson, and James Smith, the clerk of the association. Turning his eyes, he saw that Daniel Boone had attended with Chief Attacullaculla, the Little Carpenter. Along with the Little Carpenter was Chief Ostenaco and Chief Oconostota.
“Are you having a good time, Billie?” Hawk asked, stopping beside a tall Cherokee.
Cherokee Billie, who was the brother-in-law of Ostenaco, grinned at him. “Good time. Plenty of good food.”
Slapping the tall young brave on the shoulder, Hawk left and passed through the crowd. He spoke to William Bean and also to Bean's young son, Russell, who was the first white child born in the settlement. He passed among the crowd and finally glanced over to where the women had congregated to serve the food. They were all working hard, for an enormous number of Cherokee had come.
I guess I ought to go help 'em
, Hawk thought. When he went over, Elizabeth said, “You just stay out of our way, Hawk.”
Sweat was running down her face, and he reached over and wiped it off, saying, “You sure get fussy when you're cooking for a celebration.” He grinned and left her then. Hearing a sound of cheering, he moved over to where he found some of the men talking about the afternoon horse race. He saw that Andrew, Jacob, and Sarah were there, along with Abigail, Amanda, Joseph and Helen Foster, and Philip Baxter. He stood back and listened to Jacob talk about how he would win the race, then moved away.
He came to where Sequatchie was talking with the Little Carpenter and the chief's niece, Nancy Ward. Nancy was married to a white man, Bryant Ward, and her face was strained as Hawk heard her say, “It's going to be hard, Sequatchie. Dragging Canoe is all for war.”
“He always has been,” Sequatchie said. “He's a man of blood.”
The Little Carpenter spread his hands out. He was a small man, not at all impressive, and yet his ability to bring people together and work out terms was phenomenal. “We will have to be sure that he does not shed blood. The old ways are changing.”
“I know,” Nancy said. She was quiet for a moment, then shook her head. “I hate to see them go, but we must change with them.”
“Yes,” Sequatchie agreed, “or the Cherokee will cease to be a people. The white men are like a mighty river coming in, and we must learn to live with them or we will perish.”
When the time for the meal came, John Carter, as chairman of the Watauga Court, called them all together.
“We welcome you, Chief Attacullaculla, as the representative of all the Cherokee. You and your people are welcome!”
The Little Carpenter responded, and then Paul Anderson rose to ask a blessing on the meal. He had become highly respectedârespected by most of the Cherokee, except the warmongers. He had traveled for the last two years in the very heart of Cherokee country, living among them, and had won many to the Lord during that time. He showed respect for their way of life, while at the same time showing them their need for a Savior. He ended the blessing by saying, “May the Lord bless us, Cherokee and white men alike. In the name of Jesus. Amen.”
****
Finally the meal was over, and it was time for the horse races. Jacob came up to Abigail and was laughing. He was happy and confident that he would win the race. His Molly had never failed him, and now he said, “Give me a token, Abigail, to take into the race.”
“A token? What's that?”
“Why, back in the days when the knights were around, they would ask a lady for a token. She would give her knight a scarf, and he would tie it on his lance, wear it while he went jousting.”
Abigail smiled and reached into her pocket and gave him a handkerchief. “I hope this will help.”
“I can't lose,” Jacob grinned. “I'll be back to claim my reward.”
There were seven horses in the race, and all of them were good ones. George Stevens started the race by firing a gun in the air, and loud shouts went up as the horses all lunged forward.
Jacob leaned over, talking to his mare with excitement. He led the race all the way to the sycamore tree, which had been set as a halfway mark, and rounded it in the lead.
Halfway back, however, he caught a glimpse of someone to his right. He took his glance off of the finish line long enough to turn his head and saw that it was Andrew!
Andrew had ridden a good race. He had let Molly keep the lead, wearing herself out, and now with the finish line no more than two hundred yards ahead, he kicked his horse in the side and let out a wild yell. The yell startled Molly, and she jerked off stride as she bolted in fright.
By the time Jacob had gotten her under control, Andrew had crossed the finish line and was surrounded by the crowd who had closed in to congratulate him.
His face burning, Jacob slid off the horse and stood there thinking,
It wasn't fair! That shout he gave threw you off stride!
Andrew received the reward from Abigail, a kiss on the cheek, which Jacob saw. He turned to go away, but suddenly Hawk was in front of him. “You rode a good race, son.”
Jacob looked up quickly, for he was suspicious that Hawk was exulting over Andrew's win.
“I lost, and that's all that counts.”
Turning abruptly away, he led Molly off to tie her to a sapling. When he turned around, he saw Amanda, who had come up. She was smiling and said, “You did fine, Jacob.”
“No. I lost.”
Amanda said, “In my mind you'll always be a winner, Jacob, no matter what anyone says.”
Jacob suddenly felt better. He shrugged and said, “I'll have to learn to swallow my medicine with less fuss.”
“Come on. Let's go watch the next race. The Cherokee are going to have one.”
Jacob agreed and the two of them walked over to where a group of Cherokee were mounted and ready to begin the race. Cherokee Billie was one of them that Jacob knew, and he said, “Good luck, Billie!”
Billie looked around and waved his hand and then gathered the halter of his horse. The Indians had trouble getting their horses to be still, and just when they were in a roughly irregular line, a sudden shot came and Billie fell off his horse.
Hawk was standing at the end of the line, and at once he leaped to Billie's side. A bullet had taken the brave directly in the heart, and he was already dead.
“That way!” Sequatchie said. “Come!”
He and Hawk took off at a dead run. They were both agile, fast men, and soon they were close enough that Hawk caught a glimpse of two figures.
“That's Crabtree!” he panted to Sequatchie.
“Yes, and the other man is Zeke Taylor.”
Neither man had brought a gun, but both had knives. However, even as they strained to catch up with the two, they saw them swing on their horses and disappear.
“We can't catch them without horses,” Hawk said. “Come on! We'll get mounted and go after them!”
When they returned to the scene, they found the Cherokee gathering up the body of Billie and tying it on a horse. They said nothing, but there was something in their eyes that was disturbing.
Attacullaculla came to stand before the group of the white leaders. “I will do what I can to prevent retaliation.”
William Bean said, “Chief, you can depend on one thing. We'll catch those men, and they will die for what they have done to your friend.”
The Little Carpenter thought hard and then said, “I think some of you should come and meet with the chief to show good faith. War may be avoided for the time being, but Dragging Canoe and his hotheads have plenty of ammunition, and this gives them an excuse.”
Hawk and Sequatchie remained standing together as the Cherokee filed out. “I'm afraid of what's going to happen now.”
Sequatchie said nothing. His brow was furrowed, and sadness filled his eyes. He knew better than Hawk how bad things now looked, and how Dragging Canoe would stir the Cherokee up to war.
****
The next day, in an emergency meeting, the Watauga court offered a reward for the capture of William Isaac Crabtree. They also decided that some of them should meet with Attacullaculla and the other chiefs to try to prevent a full-scale war.
James Robertson spoke up, saying, “Hawk, we will need you and Sequatchie to go.”
“All right,” Hawk said. “I feel that I failed by letting those two get away, but they hid their tracks in the river. I can go after them if you think best.”
“No, that will wait,” Robertson said. “Now we have to do all we can to stop a war.” He turned to Paul and said, “Reverend, let's pray for peace.”
Paul lowered his head, and all of the men removed their hats as Paul said quietly, “O God, we are helpless in this situation. We ask for a miracle. Keep the peace among our two peoples.”
As Hawk left the room, he murmured to Sequatchie, “That was a good prayer.”
“Yes, it was, and Paul is right. It will take a miracle to stop a war now.”
Part III
Brothers
June 1774-March 1775
Have we not all one father? hath not one God created us? why do we deal treacherously every man against his brother, by profaning the covenant of our fathers?
Malachi 2:10
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jacob Goes Courting
Elizabeth rose early to do her cooking. June had brought a heat that rose in waves, and by noon the cabin would be stifling. Before dawn she had slipped out of bed, leaving Hawk sleeping with his head buried under a pillow. She often wondered how he could sleep like that, thinking,
I'd suffocate if I tried to do it
.