Legacies (16 page)

 

—John Ross

principal chief of the Cherokee Nation

 

 

 

9

 

 

Tahlequah

Cherokee Nation
,
Indian Territory

August 21, 1861

 

The black filly tossed her head and pranced sideways with excitement, eyeing all the saddle horses, single buggies, and wagons banked along the street racks around the town square. "Full of fire and ready to run, are you?" Alex grinned and held the filly to her dancing walk. "Too bad it isn't race day."

He rode past the two-story brick hotel, filled to capacity like the rest of the town. Children raced in and out of the alleys between buildings while women strolled from store to store to see what the merchants had to offer. But there were few men to be seen along the walks. They were crowded around the east side of the square where the government buildings were located.

Alex pointed his horse in the same direction. He had traveled no more than a few yards when a familiar voice called his name. Glancing around, he saw Sorrel crossing the street, accompanied by her grandmother, mother, and their Negro serving maid Phoebe. Alex started to nod a greeting and ride on. Then he noticed Diane Parmelee in the group. He smiled when he recognized the woman who was the daughter of a Yankee captain and his cousin's future bride.

He rode over to them. "Good afternoon, ladies." His glance flicked to the packages and bundles of goods in their arms. "It appears you have already bought out the stores. Where are you bound to now?"

"The dressmaker's shop," Eliza replied while Diane Parmelee watched him with cool eyes. Alex smiled, certain she was remembering the time when he had held a gun on her precious fiancé.

"I'm having a new dress made to wear in the wedding," Sorrel informed him. "Mrs. Adair has to measure me first, though. Would you like to come with us?"

"It sounds very entertaining, but I think I'll go find out if we have finally joined the Confederacy," Alex replied and caught the small smile that touched Diane's lips. "You surprise me, Miss Parmelee. I never thought you would find the prospect so amusing."

"Considering how unlikely it is that such a thing would come to pass, I—"

"But it will come to pass," Alex interrupted smoothly. "Didn't my dear cousin tell you that this meeting today is for the purpose of making an alliance with the Confederacy?"

She tipped her chin a
fraction higher. "He informed me that the rebel government had made another proposal. But they have done so countless times in the past. From what I was told, there is nothing new in it that would cause Chief Ross to abandon his position of neutrality."

"But the circumstances are different this time. The South is winning the war—and making a hero of Stand Watie in the process. Chief Ross can't continue to sit on his hands if he wants to remain chief. That's why he has thrown his support to the South." Alex smiled at the mixture of doubt and dismay in her expression. "Good day, ladies." He touched a hand to his hat in a
mock salute and rode off, chuckling to himself.

Diane looked from Temple to Eliza. "What he said—is it true?"

Eliza pressed her lips together in deep disapproval. "As much as I regret it, yes. Chief Ross intends to support making an alliance with the South."

"But why?"

"We are faced with a
Hobson's choice, Diane," Eliza replied. "Either we make an alliance or face military occupation."

"Is that the threat the South made?" she demanded, indignant and showing it.

"My dear, they didn't have to put it into words," Eliza told her. "Such things are always couched in diplomatic terms that make their true meaning implicit. The Cherokee have lived under a soldier's bayonet before. It's not an experience we care to repeat. Therefore, we will bide our time and wait for the Union army to put down this rebellion of the Southern states."

"This is difficult for you, I know," Temple inserted, reaching out to press a hand on Diane's arm in a gesture of comfort and compassion. "Sometimes it's very hard to avoid taking sides in an issue, especially when everyone else around you is."

"I know." But Diane wasn't listening. Too many other thoughts and questions were tumbling through her mind. Why had Lije not made the gravity of the situation clear to her? From the way everyone talked, she had assumed a position of neutrality was the only possible option, considering how divisive opinion was among the Cherokee. Had she been so wrapped up in their wedding plans that she hadn't listened properly? The longer Diane thought about that, the more uneasy she became. And with the uneasiness, the first seeds of anger were sown. Anger and a sense of betrayal.

 

When Alex reached the east side of the square, he spotted his father in the crowd of men outside the Council Building. Dismounting, he tied the filly to a hitching rack and worked his way through the throng to his father's side.

The instant Alex touched his shoulder, his father spun around, his hand instinctively reaching inside his coat for the .31 caliber pocket revolver he always carried. Alex drew back, a smile widening the line of his mouth at how jumpy his father had become. Admittedly, the frequent and violent clashes between Watie's supporters and the members of his father's society of Pins Indians had given him cause. Alex knew of at least three killings that had occurred.

"You should never come up behind a man like that," his father growled in irritation.

"Sorry."

"You should be. Where have you been? Ross is about to address the convention. I thought you wanted to hear him."

"I do." Alex followed his father to the meeting area.

It was jammed with people. Most were dressed in the frock coat and white shirt of a planter while some wore the hunting shirt and turban of the mountain Cherokee. Kipp immediately scanned the gathering, not stopping until he located The Blade. His Negro servant was at his side, and Lije stood nearby.

Distracted by The Blade's presence, Kipp didn't hear the beginning of Ross's address. With gritted teeth, Kipp watched The Blade, noting how smug he looked standing there, listening to Ross speak the words that would ally them with the Confederacy, words that accomplished the very thing The Blade had wanted. Hatred rose up like a bitter bile in his throat. Kipp swore to himself that The Blade would live to regret this day. He would see to it. Somehow. Some way.

When a resolution for making an alliance with the Confederate States of America was put before the convention, it was greeted with cheers of approval and passed by acclamation. As they filed out of the meeting house, Kipp suddenly found himself face to face with The Blade. His son Lije stood at his side.

The Blade smiled and pulled a cigar from his pocket, lighting it and calmly exhaling the smoke. "It seems we have aligned ourselves with the South."

"No. We have prevented you and your cohort Watie from making your own treaty with the Confederates and usurping Ross's authority, just as you did years ago," Kipp retorted contemptuously.

"Perhaps this time it
is
a fear of losing his power that prompts Ross," The Blade murmured, then lowered his glance to the bulge in Kipp's coat. "But now you will have an opportunity to use that pistol you always carry, won't you?"

Surprise and the dawning of an idea robbed Kipp of the chance to make a suitably cutting reply before The Blade moved off. He stared after that wide set of shoulders, as always partially blocked by the Negro servant who had become his shadow over the years. In the heat of battle, no one would know who fired the shot that killed a man. No one. The idea grew in Kipp's mind, taking root in the fertile soil of his hatred for The Blade.

 

Lije glanced sideways at his father. "It wasn't wise to bait Kipp like that."

"Kipp doesn't need baiting," The Blade replied in dismissal.

Outside the meeting house, The Blade paused to relight his cigar. Lije halted beside him and idly swept his glance over the slowly dispersing throng. Among the many shades of dark clothing, he caught a glimpse of deep rose and focused on it. Diane stood alone in the square directly across from him, her pink parasol raised to break the glare of the sun as she scanned the faces of the departing men. Lije knew she was looking for him, and he also knew why.

"Diane is waiting for you," his father observed.

Lije nodded grimly. "I know. I won't be long." He moved away.

When she saw him crossing the dirt street, she took a step toward him, then stopped and waited for him to reach her, a fine tension in every line of her body. He read the anxiety and confusion written in her expressive eyes.

"Is it true?" she asked, already braced for his answer. "You have joined the Confederacy?"

"It isn't official. A treaty has yet to be signed, but Ross has the authority to do so now."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Diane demanded. "Why didn't you make it clear the outcome of this meeting would be different? Why did I have to hear it from your cousin Alex?"

Alex. Lije had no difficulty at all imagining the enjoyment Alex had derived from being the one to enlighten Diane. He battled back the surge of anger.

"What would it have changed if you had known?"

"Nothing, I suppose," Diane admitted in frustration. "But it wasn't fair to keep it from me. I am not a child to be protected from unpleasantness."

"No," Lije agreed and sought to end this discussion. "Where are Mother and Eliza?"

"At the dressmaker's shop. I had an appointment to be measured for my gown. Sorrel—"

"I'll walk you there." He took her arm and turned in the direction of the dressmaker's shop near the Masonic Building. "From now on, stay close to them. It might not be wise to venture off by yourself anymore."

"Are you suggesting it's no longer safe for me to walk down a public street?"

"It's widely known that your father is an officer in the Union army, Diane. And we have now aligned ourselves with the South. You may not be treated as kindly as you once were." Lije didn't know if there would be more to it than that, and he didn't care to find out.

She fell silent after that. When they reached the shop entrance, she turned to face him. "What will happen now, Lije?" she asked. "What will you do?"

"What I must," he replied, deliberately evasive. 

“
I—”

Sorrel came bounding out of the shop. "Hurry, Diane. Mrs. Adair is ready to measure you. I'm all done. She said my dress will be the most beautiful one she has ever made."

"That's wonderful, Sorrel. Now go tell Mrs. Adair I'll be in directly."

Sorrel frowned. "But she's waiting for you."

"You'd better go in," Lije told Diane.

"Where are you going?"

"My father and I have to meet some people. I'll see you tonight." He managed a smile before he walked away. His expression soon hardened with the thing he had to do and the knowledge of what it might cost him.

 

A copper sun clung to the rim of the western horizon. Its lengthening rays washed the plantation's white columns with amber light as Lije returned home, accompanied by his father and the Negro servant Deuteronomy Jones. Ike waited to take his horse. Lije dismounted and handed over the reins, then glanced at the house, half-expecting to see Diane emerge.

As the horses were led away, The Blade joined him. "I know the trouble this will cause with Diane."

Lije nodded, aware his father spoke from personal experience. "I saw it coming. I had hoped it could be avoided, but ..." He shook his head, the line of his mouth turning grim again. The moment he had dreaded was now here. There was no turning from it, no way to make it easier.

Gripped by that bleak knowledge, Lije entered the house. Temple crossed the grand foyer, smiling a welcome. "You are home earlier than I expected. I thought I would have to delay dinner tonight."

Lije glanced past her. "Where's Diane?"

"She went up to her room. I—"

But Lije didn't wait to hear more, going directly to the staircase that curved to the second-floor bedrooms. He climbed the steps one at a time, his movements unhurried and deliberate. When he reached the top, the door to the guest room opened, and Diane came out. She had changed into a summer-green dress that intensified the blue of her eyes and the yellow gold of her hair. Lije stopped and watched her approach, studying the perfection of her features, the subtle allure of her smile, and the knowing glow in her eyes that radiated a warmth he seemed to feel in his blood.

"I hoped I would have a chance to speak to you before dinner, Lije." She stopped before him and reached up to straighten and smooth the lapel of his coat, an intimate and wifely gesture that subtly staked claim to him. "I was short with you today and that was wrong of me. Joining the Confederacy was not your doing. I know that. But it was extremely upsetting, coming as it did with no forewarning."

"I had hoped it wouldn't come to pass." The truth of that statement was in the flatness of his voice.

When she tilted her head, inviting his embrace, the urge was strong to gather her into his arms and love this moment away. Seemingly of their own volition, his arms circled her waist, but he held her loosely, stirred by the fragrance rising from her flaxen hair. He breathed it in, memorizing its scent and a thousand other details about her.

"I shouldn't have said there were no forewarnings," Diane said and sighed with easy ruefulness. "There were numerous indications—the things your father said, the changing attitudes of others—but I refused to believe them, pretended not to hear all the many hints that were made. Looking back, I can see all of them now. But, today, the idea of rebel soldiers riding freely through the countryside—"

"That is why it will be best if you go back to Saint Louis where your father is posted." Lije was blunt with her. Deliberately.

"Without you?" Startled, she looked up, her lips parting in surprise. Recovering, she released a half-irritated laugh. "What a ridiculous thing to say. You don't honestly believe the arrival of rebel troops will make me leave here. Admittedly, their presence will be offensive, but I'm not about to flee from it."