Gold Raven (42 page)

In May of 1838 the great roundup had begun,

herded like cattle into makeshift forts…

there was nowhere left to run.

Thirty thousand Cherokees,

a thousand miles they went,

some say a quarter of them died on route…

betrayed - by the president.

This trail over land and river,

along which many people died,

was drenched by the tears of mothers,

and known as “The trail where they cried.”

At places where those tears fell,

a pretty flower grows,

a poignant symbol of those tears…

the beautiful…. Cherokee rose.

NUNNA DAUL TSUNY

Written By, Lawrence James

Copyright © June 2004, Amber Swann Publishing Inc.

All Right Reserved

"Are you sure?"

"Four days we track them. They are a small party, more women, children and few soldiers. We believe the women may be prisoners – on their way to the fort called Jacques."

"Hmmm…"

"Will we do with them as the others?"

"Yes…we will."

"Woman of the people, she will not like this."

"No…she will not. However, if they wish to travel through our lands, it will be at a price…and the price will cost them, the same that it has cost us."

"How much longer will we track them before we attack?"

"The route of their travel?"

"Ouachita river, now at eyefish bend. Three more suns, they will catch the flat floater across the water to land on the soil the white man, named Arkansas – where this fort name Jacques waits."

"They must not reach the ferryboats. We leave tonight."

"What of the promise to Woman of the people? That you lead no more attacks on the white man? That you maintain peace?"

"I will keep to my promises…the same as the white man keeps to his.”

“
One promise I will keep above all others…that which was made before the burning corpse of my father. He died for nothing…now, so shall they, prepare to leave."

* * *

"You lying bastards!! You lied to me! You lied to me!!! I swear to God…I will kill you all!!"

It was what Sgt. Hercog dreaded would happen. She would finally discover the truth. Days had passed since this journey to Fort Jacques began. As for Sgt. Hercog and his men, it had turned into a journey from hell. He had kept her from the others as long as he could, isolating her to keep the tales of horror at the hands of Captain Pryce from her; preventing her from knowing the facts about her brother's injuries and going before the firing squad. In doing so, to his surprise, she remained under control although, while covertly attempting to escape, three times, each time using the other women as a diversion. Once – by jumping his men. The women were brought under control by using one of the children as a bribe – the child's throat would remain uncut – as long as they followed the orders given and did not push them. At that point –Hope was on her own.

Second attempt – she thought to slip away in the calm of the night when all were asleep; she might have succeeded if the men had not been in such fear for their lives from the women, or from fear of a possible attack by Indians in the night. He was happy to see every one of them leap to their feet catching her in the act.

In a few days, they would cross the river by ferry to Arkansas and then be home free. His men were eagerly anticipating the crossing, for the territory they now traveled through was a known hot spot for Indian attacks.

Hope’s third escape attempt came when the women all demanded a bath. "Sgt. Hercog, I wish to have a word with you." Hope asked stiffly. Every man within hearing moaned in unison. Hercog, who was still sitting, gave a deep sigh glancing up at her. "What now, Miss Webster?"

"We have been traveling for close to two weeks now. The children are grimy, and many of the women travel covered in blood. We all smell – including you and your men. We wish to wash ourselves, the children and our clothing."

He set the tin cup of coffee down beside him, looking away from her. She stood with her arms crossed over her breasts and her foot impatiently tapping. "The smell of those surrounding you may be of no offense to you, but I find the odors permeating this camp deplorable."

Hercog glanced up again, watching her execute a stance filled with boldness and an unyielding determination; never had he seen such arrogance in a woman before. Although he would never admit it – he was full of admiration for her. She was a vixen, hell bent on having her way.

He
had never heard a woman curse a man as she had Billingsly, who made the mistake of walking up to her with the intention of slapping her. She took him and those watching totally by surprise by dodging the blow and kicking him in the groin. When he bent forward in agony; she grabbed him in an unladylike hold, looping her arm around his neck and falling down, slamming his head on the ground as her legs and feet flipped him high and over to fall on his back – out cold. Thus the cause for the first uprising and attempted escape; he still could not believe it.

Now she stood once again, rested up and waiting, willing as well to wreak further harm on him and his men. On the outside, she appeared soft, sweet and pure; the most delicate of creatures; inspiring the need within any man to embrace her, cherish her, protect her.
'Ha!'
He thought,
'God help the man cursed with this one.'

"Well Sergeant, how much longer does it take for you to decide? You may not care how we show up at the fort – but I do. I will not meet my brother like this!"

"Alright!" He leapt to his feet and walked towards the waiting crowd of women; with Hope following closely.

"All the women with children – stand up!" They did. "Now all the women with no children stand to this side here." He pointed to an area to his right. "If you all wish to bathe, those with children will give them over to the women without. They will bathe themselves and the children that are given to them!" A roar of complaint went up from both groups.

"I don't wish to hear it! It will be carried out as I explain it – or not at all!”

"They are not our children why must we bathe them!" Someone shouted.

"Because those without, aren't about to be burdened with a crying babe. Those with, aren't about to leave them." He turned to Hope then. "And you – you will bathe alone with my supervision!"

"I will not be saddled with your presence while bathing! I refuse!" Hope shot, trying to think of a plan to get around this. She had to lose them. This whole entourage was slowing her progress. She could make it to the camp so much faster without them, and on the way – come up with a plan to get her brother out.

"My word stands; with me in attendance, or not at all." He turned then to the women looking on. "Hand over the children so that you can all be about this quickly. The group with the babes will bathe there in the distance. Those without – will bathe the opposite end." He turned to his men gesturing. "Three guarding there – and three guarding the others!"

Though grumbling and unhappy with the arrangement, the women wanted to bathe so badly they obeyed and did it the Sergeants way. Following through on the swap of children, the women went to their
assigned area in the stream with their designated guards standing over them. They simply kept their clothing on and bathed as they were, washing their bodies and clothing at the same time; doing likewise with the children.

Hope felt her frustration mounting. Something had to give. She either had to get away so that she could reach her brother, or get back to Maria and the children. One way or the other, one destination or the other – she had to get away and on her own. As she could see from the women's growing reactions to her, she was on her own. She could not stand the horrible feeling of being alone – again.

"It's your turn now. Let's get this over with." With angry narrowing eyes, Hope knew when she had been bested. She walked stiffly before him toward the riverbank, spun and shouted at him. "At least have the decency to give me my privacy!"

"Your – bath – awaits!" He sternly commanded, with more than a hint of sarcasm. She spun back towards the river with a furious, "Oooh!" Stomping into the water not caring how it splashed up into her face and then sank deep within.

"That's far enough Miss Webster! You may begin your bath there!"

She stood turning to him, "I'll begin where I damn well please!” She grumbled just loud enough for him to hear, "Whoever heard of bathing with your clothes on! But I'll be damned before I show you any skin!" He leaned against the tree giving no comment, just displaying changes of expression – tolerating her irate actions as long as she did as she was told.

He watched her with her back to him, undoing her long braid to wet and wash her hair. Staying beneath the water to give herself and her clothing a good soaking; laying her head back and letting her hair float free on the surface of the water.

"You know, Miss Webster, you really are too young and appealing to be in such trouble. You should be married, having babies, a good man to keep you under control. Of course, he would have to be one heck of a strong man…with that mouth and temper-…"

"Sgt. Hercog!"

"Yes, Miss Webster?" He grinned knowingly.

"Go ta'hell!"

His grinning continued as she turned her back again and dipped her hair - deliberately she flung it up and back, sending a stream directly at him, wetting him thoroughly.

"Haaay – watch that!"

“
Em, yes – you smell as though you fear it.” She taunted.

He sighed, ignoring her insult. From that moment forward, Hope ignored him and rubbed her body over, going under her clothing washing everywhere, even though she had no soap. Floating on top of the water, she turned over a few times, her hands stroking the slick hair back from her brow as she rose from the water unaware that the shirt she wore took on a transparency when wet. The cool water caused a puckering effect to her nipples, accenting the firm, high breasts. Hercog's mouth watered. Several times' she went under and came up; swimming out a bit and then back again. Hercog was in a trance watching her go under, watching the spot and awaiting her appearance like some unattainable water nymph, replaying over, and over again in his mind. Suddenly he stood at attention realizing at the spot where she went down, the ripples were smoothing out with no reappearance of her. He started slowly walking towards the waters edge looking for her to resurface. His heart hammered, his temples began pounding. "Where are you?" He growled.

Then downstream, he saw her, far in the distance stroking madly towards the opposite bank. Hercog cursed as he began snatching off his boots, and then tearing off his shirt. He leapt into the stream and began swimming hard and fast towards her; swiftly cutting through the water as if born to it; unfortunately for Hope. By the time she reached the other side, and mustered the strength to pull herself up, he was not far behind her. By picking a bad place to come out, she encountered slimy, slippery rocks and stumbled twice in her haste. Before she could get her feet beneath her on solid ground; he was there.

Spitting water and breathing deeply he grabbed a tight hold of Hope, mad as he could be. Hope was too tired to fight him after her swim. "Well, Miss Webster – this – is it!" He panted.

"Please…you have to - let me go! I must - I must - get - to my brother!"

Just then two of his men rode towards them on horseback.

"Your brother…your brother! He is an outlaw – most likely dead by now!"

"No!"

"Yes!" He insisted.

One of the men riding up shook his head informing her, "What does it matter…where you're going there's no chance of you seeing him anyway! Big distance between Fort Jacques and Fort Le Croix!"

Hope sucked in stunned
, looking from one man to the other. "Fort Jacques…what is he saying?" Hoped demanded, breathing hard.

Hercog sighed and then admitted the truth. "We're miles away from your brother. He was taken to Fort Le Croix…we're on our way to another fort, some place bigger, more equipped to deal with women prisoners."

"You lying bastards!! You lied to me! You lied to me!!! I swear to God, I will kill you all!"

"From now on…she stays tied up…let's get back across to the others!"

The following two days of travel were done with Hope at Hercog's side on a mount of her own thoroughly attached to his saddle horn, with her hands bound before her so she had no control over the reins. On and off during those two days she was gagged after every outburst. At night, he allowed them to bathe in the same order as before, as well as Hope, but with a rope tied around her ankles and the other end in his hand. If she made even the slightest move as if to bend and untie herself, her reward was a swift yank that sent her under, coming up choking and spitting, with a killer look at him.

The third morning they traveled quite a distance from the river because of a steep incline that rose as they rode beside it. Eight more miles and they would be at the ferry crossing. To the left of the trail ran a valley, flanked, in the distance, by rolling hills. To the right was a sloping bank to the river.

When they were about another mile along the trail, they came to a dense copse, with more trees climbing up an incline to the left of them. Hercog led the way nervously and mindful that the thicket would give easy cover for potential attackers.

His concern was well founded; at that moment the relative calm was shattered by a piercing Indian war cry. Hercog's heart jumped at the sight of arrows zipping through the air, narrowly missing him, many embedding themselves with a quivering -
shh-tong
! in tree trunks. In the chaos, many riders were unseated from their terrified mounts. Hercog witnessed two of his men pierced in mid-air as they were thrown from their saddles. Screaming women instinctively covered their children with their own bodies, keeping them low in the wagons.

In the confusion, Hope took advantage of Hercog's distraction to escape. Digging her heals into her horses ribs and leaning forward, she spurred it into action with a loud, "Yah!" Looking over her shoulder, she realized she had gotten away just in time as she saw the Indians moving in to overpower the militia. From his vantage point on the hilltop, the warrior chief felt proud that his men had subdued the soldiers without harming a single woman or child.