Eyes of Eagles (10 page)

“You go with God, young feller,” the settler said. “And don't you worry none about us sayin' a thing. We can be right tight-lipped when we taken a mind to it.”

Jamie and Kate packed up and pulled out within the hour, the farmer's wife shaking her head at Kate's wearing men's britches, and horrified at her riding astride.

“That girl will come to no good end,” she said to her husband.

“Maybe that's the way they do it back east now,” he replied. “This younger generation is sure goin' to hell in a handbasket. No tellin' what they'll be doin' next.”

“It's the devil's work, for sure.”

* * *

Jamie and Kate pushed westward, riding deeper into the wilderness, behind them came the Newby Brothers and behind them rode John Jackson and Hart Olmstead and their followers. Jamie and Kate both felt that John and Hart would eventually give up and return to Kentucky, for they had businesses to run and farms to tend back there, and neither was a wealthy man. The Newby Brothers were a different story however. Jamie and Kate had learned from talking to people along the way that the Newbys were highwaymen, wanted in several states and territories, and they were also friends with the Saxon gang. Since the Saxon Brothers escaped from jail, several years back, they had become the leaders of one of the most infamous and feared gangs in the country, robbing and raping and killing and plundering wherever they rode, which was wherever and whenever they chose.

Although both Jamie and Kate would have liked to visit the hot springs, which they had read and heard about, and which had been used by Indians for centuries, believing the hot water had magical healing powers, the springs lay south of where the young couple rode, and they felt sure their pursuers would go there in search of them. The two pressed on westward. They encountered Indians, but the Caddos gave them no trouble and most were friendly.

On the fourth day out of Little Rock, camped at the edge of a little lake in the Ouachita Mountains, a voice halloed their camp. Jamie put his hand on the butt of a pistol and waited.

“I be friendly, young folks,” the man said, walking his horse closer. “And I be alone. Smelled your food a-cookin' and the coffee boilin'. I'll ride on if you say to.”

“Come on in,” Jamie told him. “We're as friendly as you are.”

The man dismounted and saw to his horse's needs. He squatted by the fire and took the cup of coffee Kate handed him. “Obliged, missy.”

Jamie noted that the man was not that much older than he was. He figured him maybe twenty or so at the most. The full beard made him appear much older.

“I been to St. Louis to see the sights and sell my pelts,” the man said. “Thought I'd just take me a look-see down this way 'fore I headed back to the mountains. I been to Fort Pickering; some folks has taken to callin' it Memphis. Silliest name I ever did hear. What's it mean, anyways?”

“I think it has something to do with Egypt,” Kate said.

“Do tell.”

“My name's Sonny and this is Tess,” Jamie said. “It ain't done it, neither,” the buckskin-clad man said with a smile. “But you'll find the further west you head, names don't account for much. It's more what a man does now than what he's got behind him. And right now, you got a mess of trouble comin' hard on your heels... Jamie and Kate MacCallister.”

The stranger's eyes hardened, his smile vanished, and he reached for a pistol stuck in his sash.

The young couple tensed as the stranger's hand closed on the butt of the pistol.

“Relax, kids,” he said. “I'm just tired of this thing pokin' me in the ribs.” He laid the pistol on the ground, beside him.

Jamie eyed his rifle and pistol, out of his reach.

“Don't never get away from your guns, boy,” the stranger said. “Not out here. It was smart of you, buying them extree guns back at Little Rock. Man can't never have too many.”

“Are you spying on us, sir?” Kate asked, her eyes flashing with anger.

“Nope. You might say I'm sort of your guardian for part of this trip you're on.”

“Why?” Jamie asked.

“I know your grandpa, boy. That's why.”

“Will you stop calling me
boy?
You're not more than five or six years older than I am.”

The man smiled. “In man's years, son, that's right. But in experience, you'll never catch up with me. I went west when I was a lot younger than you.” He smiled that strange smile. “Man Who Is Not Afraid.”

“You said you know my grandfather?”

“Yep. And he's alive and well and damn spry for his age, too.” He looked at Kate. “Kindly pardon my language, ma'am.” He looked back at Jamie. “When I heard a young feller name of MacCallister was being tracked — I was told that over at a tradin' post on the White — I done me a little investigatin' and decided to drift on over this way. I picked up your trail north of the city and been watchin' you. You do tolerable well in the wilderness, boy. Tolerable. Them Shawnees taught you good. Now I'm fixin' to teach you a bit more whilst we head west. I'll leave you a ways after we cross the Red, 'cause I've got me a yearnin' for the mountains and the plains. I been missin' 'em something fierce, I have.”

“I'll see them someday,” Jamie said. “Me and Kate.”

“Probably,” the man agreed. “And once you do, you'll never leave 'em for long. They pull at you. The plains is something a body's got to see to believe. And the mountains? Well, words can't describe 'em.”

The stranger sighed and shook his head. “The mountains get to a man. I've been ramblin' on some. You mind if I have me a taste of that stew you got cookin' in the pot, Missy?”

“Of course not. I'll get you a plate.”

“Then you're a mountain man?” Jamie asked.

“I reckon,” the stranger replied, taking the plate filled with stew. He ate several spoonfuls. “Good grub, Missy. Man gets tired of his own cookin'.” He smiled. “And I 'spect a woman does too, now, ain't that right?”

Kate laughed at him. “Oh, yes.”

Jamie and Kate took a liking to the friendly and easygoing stranger. As he ate, he told them about Jamie's grandfather, and about the way of life of the mountain men. Then he had Jamie tell him what type of supplies they'd purchased back in the “city”.

The stranger grunted his approval. “You'll do, Jamie MacCallister. You'll do. You brought just what you'll need and no more. You didn't waste good cash money on geegaws and foofaws. And you got a good eye for horseflesh. That big black of yours is better than a watchdog — ain't I right?”

Jamie allowed as how he was.

“Thought so. But seeing Kate in men's britches is gonna take some getting used to, I reckon.”

* * *

The stranger made his camp about fifty yards away from Jamie and Kate, to give them some privacy and also, Jamie felt, not to offer any attacker a bunched-up camp.

“We don't even know his name,” Kate whispered that night, snuggled close together in their blankets.

“I guess if he wants us to know it, he'll tell us. Kate? Tomorrow I start teaching you about guns. You've got to be able to fire both rifle and pistol and know how to reload.”

“I know how to reload. But I'm not much of a shot.”

“You will be. You've got to learn. I'm told that the danger of Indians is not much where I've got in mind for us to live. But we must never forget those who are trailing us. And you've got to be able not just to shoot, but to kill.”

Kate was silent, mentally recalling the ugly, savage viciousness of her father and of John Jackson and those awful Newby Brothers. “I'll stand when the time comes, Jamie. Of that, you may be sure.”

The next afternoon, by the banks of the Fourche River, Jamie and the stranger began Kate's introduction to weapons. They practiced with her for an hour, until she began to complain that her shoulder and hands were aching.

“Best to stop now,” the stranger said. “We don't want to push this. Accidents happen when a body does that.”

“You go take your bath, Kate,” Jamie told her. “We'll stand guard and start fixing supper. We'll fry up those big fish we caught.”

“She's a good girl,” the stranger said, kneeling by the fire and pouring a cup of coffee. “You're a lucky man. She'll stand beside you.”

“Are you married?” Jamie asked.

The stranger smiled. “Married to the mountains, I reckon. The wind is my woman. You two gonna settle in Texas, huh?”

“Planning on it.”

“Gonna be a war there, Jamie. The Mexicans is not takin' kindly to the talk of independence.”

“Then I'll fight.”

The stranger looked at this boy/man. Big feller. Arms and wrists on him held more power than the boy probably realized. The years with the Shawnees shaped him, body and mind. He'll be a rough one to tangle with, for a fact. Carried a hide-out knife in one leggin, too. And the stranger had no doubts about Jamie's ability and will to use it.

“You want to tell me why you got all these people after you, Jamie?”

Jamie looked across the fire. He could hear Kate singing softly from the river. “One group is led by two men, Olmstead and Jackson. Kate is Olmstead's daughter. We ran off. I killed Jackson's son, John Jr., after the two of them raped a good lady back in Kentucky. The other bunch will be the Newby Brothers. I killed two of their brothers at a trading post just off the Mississippi River. The old man at the store killed the third one with an axe.”

That brought a grunt from the mountain man. He'd pegged Jamie MacCallister right: the boy wouldn't back up and take water from nobody. “What about the third bunch?”

Jamie stared at him for a moment. “
What
third bunch?”

“You got three groups of men trailin' you, Jamie. What do you know about the Saxon Brothers?”

Jamie shook his head and cursed, something he rarely did. He told the stranger about his encounter, several years back, with the Saxon Brothers.

The mountain man laughed. “Twelve years old and shoot a man in the ass with an arrow. I reckon that would get his attention, all right. That might be enough to make him carry a grudge.” He chuckled.

Jamie grinned boyishly. “He didn't see the humor in it, that's for sure.”

“I reckon not.”

Kate walked up, smelling of soap and cleanliness, her blond hair dark with water. “What's so funny?” she asked.

“We also have the Saxon Brothers after us,” Jamie said.

“And you think that's funny?”

“Not really. But shooting one in the butt that night was.”

Kate laughed and turned around. She had cut short her bath when she felt eyes on her. But she could detect no one. Now she mentioned it to Jamie and the stranger. The mountain man was on his feet in an instant, rifle in hand.

“Get the horses behind them rocks over yonder,” he said, jerking his head. “Missy, you get all them spare guns and start loadin' 'em up. Double-shot the pistols for close work.”

“Indians?” Jamie asked, working quickly.

“I don't think so. I can't give you no good reason why I think that, I just do.”

“I'm not familiar with any of the tribes in this area,” Jamie said.

“No one is no more. Whites keep pushin' the tribes out of the east and shovin' 'em west. Some tribes has joined with other tribes, some packed up and went west, and others just disappeared. I don't know where the hell they went. Last year I seen a bunch of Yuchis and Shawnee out on the plains. Heading west to get shut of the white man. Can't blame 'em none.”

Jamie cut his eyes. “I think I just spotted a blue shirt across the river. Not that that means a whole lot. Could be an Indian wearing it.”

“Could be but I'll bet it ain't. I think we're about to get fell on by a bunch of white trash.”

“I doubt it's Olmstead and Jackson. We're at least a week ahead of them.”

“No more than that,” the stranger said. “Come the mornin,' we start hidin' our tracks.”

“Hallo the camp!” the shout came from across the river. “We're friendly folks and wouldn't harm nary a butterfly. Can we come over and share our meager food with y'all, kind gents and beautiful lady?”

“Goddamn ridge-runners,” the mountain man said. “Worthless, shiftless trash. From this distance, they wouldn't have known your lady was a woman... unless they spied on her bathing. And that makes 'em lower than a snake's belly far as I'm concerned.” He looked at Jamie. “If I wasn't here, what would you do?”

“First I'd find out how many of them are over there. Then I'd tell them to keep on traveling and make sure they did. Then I'd break camp and move on for several miles.”

The mountain man smiled, and with that smile, Jamie knew he was maybe twenty, at the most. “You'll do, Jamie MacCallister. You'll do.” He raised his voice. “Keep on travelin'. We ain't in the mood for no company.”

“That's a terrible unchristian thing, friend,” the shout was returned. “We are all poor pilgrims wandering in a vast and hostile land, ain't we?”

The mountain man's language coarsened considerably and he told the as yet unseen man where he could go and the shortest way to get there... in a manner of speaking.

Kate covered her mouth to smother her giggle.

“I don't think you're a very friendly person,” the shout came from across the river.

“I don't much give a damn what you think!” the mountain man hollered. “But I know you best keep on travelin'.”

“Whatever you say, friend. We'll pray for you over our supper.”

“Say a prayer or go to hell. Just get gone from here,” the mountain man replied. He turned to Jamie. “They're sure to have people all around us. Damnit, I thought I heard something in the woods about twenty or so minutes ago.”

“Who are they?”

“Movers. Shiftless rawhiders who squat in some homesteader's abandoned cabin and live until it falls down around them. Then they move on. And they steal anything that ain't pegged down good. They're too lazy to work; think the world owes them something. And they've always got a hard-luck story to tell. I was crossin' Missouri some months ago and run into a bunch of them. I never heard such whinin' and complainin' in all my life. Give me a headache. I hadn't gone ten miles up the road 'fore I run into the sheriff and a posse chasin' 'em. And their women is the worse. Whoors and trash and the like. Don't never turn your back to them. Them women'll have a dirk in you faster than you can spit.”

“What do we do?” Kate called from the rocks.

“Get ready to kill some white trash,” the mountain man said shortly.

“Just like that?” Jamie questioned.

“Just like that. Believe me, they'd kill you and leave you for the ants without never blinkin' a eye.”

“I must have missed something those years living in the Shawnee town,” Jamie said.

“You missed puttin' up with white trash. Next time you see a Shawnee, thank him for that.”

Even though Jamie knew they were surrounded by danger, he had to chuckle at that. “Why do you hate them so?”

“Oh, I don't hate them, Jamie. I don't hate very much. Takes a lot to make me hate somebody. I just don't have no use for them. They're takers. Anytime a person takes more from his community or his fellow man than he gives back, that feller is what I call a taker. A lot of bankers is takers. A lot of lawyers is takers. You don't have to be trash to be a taker.”

“I never thought about that.”

“You never had to. Until you left that Shawnee town and come back to live with the whites. Injuns won't put up with takers. They'll run them off or kill them. Well, most Injuns, that is. They's a couple of tribes up in the northwest that's pretty damn shiftless, but as a rule your Injuns have a fairly strict code they live by.”

“Everything is loaded up full and I've patches and balls ready,” Kate said.

“That's a good girl, Jamie,” the mountain man said. “Don't never treat her bad.”

“You don't have to worry about that. Say... what is your name? I can't go on calling you 'hey.' ”

The young mountain man laughed. “ 'Bout three years ago, folks started callin' me Preacher. I'll tell you why later. Right now, cock that rifle. 'Cause here they come!”