Journey Home Chapter Twenty-one

The sound of voices outside the lodge he occupied brought John Johnston to his feet.  For a while he had stood beside the door, prepared to call the guard in, determined to wrestle the man to the ground and make a run for it.  Lingering doubts about the location of his family had driven him back to the edge of the rough cot.  Robinson was still missing, as well as Rachel and the girls.  While he had left the women in good hands, there was no guarantee that they were safe.  Anything could happen on the frontier – and usual did.  He thought this man, Runs Deep, was of a better cut than Hawk – that the Cherokee was not the type to take women or children hostage –  but when a man’s world was at stake even the best among them could be driven to acts of desperation.

And then, there was his obligation to the Indians.

John knew many of the natives Hawk had gathered were familiar with him, and that some of them must have  grown up under his care.  He had been agent to the Shawano, Wyandot and Seneca, and to the Lenape for eight years now.  How many of these men had he known as children?  How many of those children – warriors now – would remember him well enough to believe him if he told them that this war was doomed to failure?  He had to talk to them.  If he did, he might be able to get them to lay their weapons down and go home before dozens, if not hundreds were killed.

The voices grew closer.  There were several different ones, but one man talked unceasingly; his tone firm but entreating.  A moment later as the door to his prison opened and a familiar dark-haired man stepped inside, John understood why.  It was the counsel for the prosecution, Adam Fox.  After he was ushered in, Adam turned back toward the branch and mud door as it closed.  Frustrated, he ran a hand across his chin and sighed.  

“I see your brother found you,” John said.

Adam pivoted to look at him.  “And just how would you know that?”

“After I was brought here, I spoke to him.  He is the ‘help’ you were promised, isn’t he?  The help you promised me….”

“It seems he is.  Though I don’t know how our sister would have known of his presence in Kentucky.”  Adam paused.  “It was odd – I didn’t know him when I first saw him.”

“Do you know him now?” John asked softly.  He couldn’t help but remember the words Runs Deep had spoken that hinted at a coming apocalypse.

“No.  Toby was always the angry one, but I never thought….”  Adam took a deep breath.  “I believed he had overcome his hatred of the white man; that he had survived the night we were burnt out.  But it seems – like the name he has chosen – that those waters ran deeper than I thought.”

“The night you were burnt out?  Your family, you mean?”

Adam moved to drop wearily onto the low bed.  For a moment he said nothing.  “It’s a long story,” he said at last.  “One I’m not sure we have time for.”

John agreed.  “I need to get out of here and to speak to the tribes.  I believe I can calm them and prevent this war.”

“I am not certain there is to be a war.”

“What?  Haven’t you spoken with your brother?”

 Adam looked up at him.  “Have you read Cervantes’ Don Quixote, Mr. Johnston?”

“Call me John.  And, yes, I have.”

“It was my brother’s favorite book.  We used to play at it.  He’s quoted it several times since we were reunited.  There has to be a reason.  Thinking about it, I keep coming back to the theme of Don Quixote’s madness.  You remember the speech about ‘life as it is’?”

John nodded.

“If you recall, Don Quixote says,” Adam began, “ ‘I’ve lived for over forty years, and I’ve seen life as it is.  Pain. Misery. Cruelty beyond belief!  I’ve heard all the voices of God’s noblest creatures; moans from bundles of filth in the streets.  I’ve been a soldier and a slave.  I’ve seen my comrades fall in battle or die more slowly under the lash in Africa.  I’ve held them at the last moment. These were men who saw life as it is, but they died despairing.  No glory; no brave last words.  Only their eyes filled with confusion, questioning, ‘Why?’  I do not think they were asking why they were dying, but why they had ever lived.  When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies?  Perhaps to be too practical is madness.  To surrender dreams; this is surely madness.  Too much sanity may be madness….”  Adam’s voice trailed off.

“ ‘But maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be’,” John finished for him.  For a moment he said nothing more, then he spoke quietly, “You think, in some way then, that your brother is working to prevent this war?”

“I don’t know what Toby is doing, but I think he thinks it is for the best.  And I cannot believe that he means to lead our father’s people wholesale into slaughter.  I have to believe that there is a purpose for his actions.”

John hesitated, but had to ask.  “And what if he is mad?”

Adam rose to his feet and walked to the door.  He turned back, his face stricken.

“Then we have to stop him.” 

~

Daniel Boone’s aged fingers gripped his rifle.  Ticklicker was pointed at the lodge where Adam Fox was being held, and he had the Indian before it in his sights.  Curious Dent along with Israel, Bekah, and Danny Moray were circling around the hastily erected building.  There seemed to be no more than six men set as guards, so the odds were even.  Dan shifted his gaze to Mingo who crouched at his side.  His old friend held his weapon across his knees.

“That ain’t gonna do us any good pointin’ toward the ground,” Dan whispered as he narrowed one eye and took aim again.

Mingo reached out and touched the barrel of his gun.  “There has been enough killing, Daniel.”

Dan frowned.  “Adam’s in there.”

“Yes.  Adam – Adohi – is Cherokee.  As am I.”  Mingo’s voice was calm and infuriatingly even.  “As are the men who guard him.”

Dan looked back to the lodge.  He hated to admit it after all these years, but one Indian looked pretty much like the other to him.  Especially when they were wearing white men’s clothes.  “These men are Cherokee?”

“I recognize one of them.  Once, long ago, he walked with Watowah.”

“Watowah?”  The name was familiar, but barely.  “You’re gonna have to refresh me on that one.”

“You remember, Daniel, when as a boy Israel found the old Chickamauga healer, Nitashanta, in the cave?  Watowah was the medicine man we discredited; the one who was driven from the tribe by our actions.  Apparently he has joined forces with Hawk.”  Mingo’s tone was laced with sadness.  “I did not expect to find any Cherokee here.  I had hoped my people knew better.”

“There’s always angry young men among them, Mingo.  Young men like you and I once were – before we got old and smart,” Dan said with a wink. 

Mingo started to rise.  “I must speak to them.”

“Mingo, no!”  Dan caught his friend’s arm.  “If these men are with Watowah, he’ll have filled their heads with lies and hate.  They won’t listen to you.”

 “Though they are not my tribe, they are Cherokee.  They will listen.  Now, Daniel, let me go.”  Dane watched as his old friend rose to his full height.  Standing, surrounded by leaves and dressed in the fading light, Mingo looked dignified as any chief.  He started to step out of the leavers, but turned back before he was revealed.  Flashing a smile, Mingo added, “Then again, it is always best to have a contingency plan in case they do not.  I think, while I keep my people occupied, it would be a most opportune time for you and the others to make your way into the lodge and free Adam.”

###

Adam remained by the door.  He meant what he said about stopping Toby, but he had no idea of how to go about it.  His brother seemed to be a stranger, though Adam held onto the thin hope that it was all a pretense – that Toby had something in mind that he was, by necessity, forced to keep to himself.  Still, the words his sister had spoken earlier troubled him.  There was every possibility that Toby, or rather Runs Deep, wanted the white men driven from their shores, and that he would do whatever it took to accomplish that goal.

His sister.  He wondered where Sunalei was and if she was safe – or alive.

John Johnston crossed to where he was.  The agent seemed alert.  Adam turned to him, a question in his deep blue eyes.

“Outside,” John answered, his voice hushed.  “Something is happening.”

The door to the makeshift lodge was a patch of branches bound together with twine and slathered with mud.  There were gaps wide enough to stick two fingers in – and more than wide enough to look out of.  Adam bent and lined his eye up with one of them.  What he saw made him draw a sharp breath.

“What is it?” John Johnston asked as he too stooped to look.

“The man, walking toward us.  I know him.”

John nodded.  “I know him too.  It is Mingo.  We met on the trail here.  He and Daniel Boone were with me when I was taken by Hawk’s men”

“What does he think he is doing?” Adam asked, incredulous.

“What he always does,” a slightly amused voice replied, making both of them pivot toward the back of the lodge.  Daniel Boone had made a hole in the wall and stuck his head through. 

“Pulling victory out of defeat, and puttin’ his life on the line for a friend.” 

~ 

“Halt!  You will halt, old man, or we will shoot!”

Mingo did what he was told.  Several heartbeats later he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.  The man holding it was the one he had recognized.  His name was Cold Water.  The Cherokee warrior had been a young man when he had taken part in Watowah’s play for power.  Most likely he was 60 or more by now.

“O-si-yo, di-gi-ne-li,” Mingo greeted him and the men with him, calling them his brothers.  He continued on then, using the Tsalagi tongue.  “Why are you here, Cold Water, armed for battle, when there is no war?”

The warrior stepped forward.  “Who are you, old man, that asks?”

“I see you did not learn respect at your mother’s knee,” Mingo replied, insulting him.  “I am Cara-Mingo of Chota.”

The native’s eyes widened with surprise as his fingers tightened on his weapon.  “Cara-Mingo?  And you come here?  Do you not know who we are?”

“I know,” Mingo answered softly.  “That you are Cherokee.  You are my brothers.  Watowah is my brother.”

“Watowah is your enemy,” Cold Water snarled.

“By his choice,” he answered.  “Not mine.”  As he had crossed the small clearing, Mingo had seen Daniel and the others slip into the shadows behind the makeshift structure.  He continued on, speaking quietly, seeking to draw the warriors attention to him.  “You are young men,” he said to Cold Water’s companions.  “Do you know what your war chief did long ago?  Do you know he is a man without honor?”

Cold Water’s face was dry tree bark scowling.  Watowah’s lieutenant shouted in reply.  “It is you who are without honor!  You who broke with the old ways.  You – half-breed –  who calls the white man friend and chooses him over your brother!”

The young men surrounding Cold Water had their weapons trained on him.  Mingo drew a breath and held it.  If just one of them chose to shoot, it would be over.  In his youth he might have dodged a bullet shot at point-blank range, but not now.

But that didn’t stop him.

“All those years ago,” he continued, “Watowah thought of only himself, of power and what he could gain.  He cared nothing for an old man who had served his people well, or for those people whom he was dooming to starvation and death.  He has not changed.  Watowah still thinks only of himself.  If you think otherwise, you are wrong.  He is not here to save the People.  Watowah is here to seek revenge – just like Hawk – on me and on my friend.  For those two, this war is only a means to an end.”

Cold Water was shaking visibly with rage.  He raised his arm and gave a signal.  “Kill him!  Strike him down before his evil words can work their magic!”

Mingo steeled himself.  The rifles remained trained on him for, perhaps, half a minute.  Then, to his surprise, the warriors turned en masse and pointed them at Cold Water.

“What is this?” the older Cherokee cried.  “What is this betrayal?”

One of the younger men walked up to him.  He took Cold Water by the arm.  “Not betrayal,” he pronounced, looking at Mingo.

“Justice.”

###

With Adam rescued, Dan ordered the charge.  He rounded the lodge with the others trailing behind him, intent on rescuing Mingo – only to find his old friend safe and sound and seemingly in control.  The younger Cherokee men were standing in a circle with their rifles pointed at one of their own.

The old frontiersman grinned as he loped toward his oldest friend.

Yep.  Just like the old days.

“You taken up magic, Mingo?” he asked as he came to his side.

“I am just as perplexed as you are, Daniel.”  Mingo smiled as his son appeared, followed closely by Curious Dent.  Next came Adam Fox and a very ragged-looking John Johnston.  The Indian agent must have been held in the same lodge.  Mingo looked for Israel and his daughter.  When they failed to appear, he turned to Adam and asked,  “Do you know what this is all about?”

            “I think so,” Adam replied.  “I think it has to do with my brother.”
            “Your brother?”  Dan watched as Mingo cast his mind back more than twenty years.  “Tobias?”

            Adam nodded.  “He’s here.  Toby’s displaced Hawk and has taken control of the natives gathered in this place.”

            It took a moment for that to soak in.  “For what purpose?” Dan asked him.

            “I wish I could be sure.”

            “To prevent this war,” a new voice declared.

            Dan turned to find an Indian male walking out of the forest.  He was dressed in white man’s clothes, but had transformed them with woven sashes and beads so he what he most resembled was a prideful male bird.  A cloaked figure walked beside him.  As Dan watched, the woolen wrap fell away to reveal a slight raven-haired female wearing a white chemise and long, flowing skirt..

            “Sunalei!” Adam exclaimed, obviously relieved.  He opened his arms wide so his sister could fly into them.  “Thank God!  Sunalei.”

            Curious Dent leaned on his old blunderbuss and grinned.  Dan couldn’t help but smile too.  There were so many bad things happening, that they were just about due a good one.  As the old frontiersman watched Adam and Sunalei embrace, he heard leaves rustling on the other side of him and turned to look.  As he did, he heard two audible intakes of breath.  It was Israel and Beckah.  His son had tears in his eyes and Dan knew why.  Israel’s wife had been missing – taken by madmen – and now here she was, safe and sound in her brother’s arms.

Adam hugged his sister a moment longer.  Then he released her and stepped away.  “There is someone else here you might want to see,” he said softly as he placed his hands on his sister’s shoulders and turned her around.  Dan watched Copperhead’s daughter wake to the fact that her husband was safe – and less than a half-dozen yards away from her.

            Sunalei’s shout of joy rattled the heavens.

            Dan watched a moment as mother, father and daughter were reunited, but then quickly turned his attention to the man who had rescued Sunalei.  In the eighty-odd years of walking the earth, Dan had learned to read a face as well as the land.  The warrior was determined and triumphant, but overlaying both of those powerful emotions was an aspect of grief.

            And maybe fear.

            “What’s wrong, son?” he asked.  “And what’s your name?”

            The warrior eyed him, making an immediate assessment and apparently approving what he saw.  “I am Waiting Moon, first lieutenant to Runs Deep.  These others are my men and his.” 

            “Traitors!  Traitors all!” Cold Water shouted.

            “Bind and gag him,” Waiting Moon ordered one of the men.  “Place him inside the lodge.  We will deal with him when all is done.”

            “And what exactly is to be done?” Mingo asked.

            Waiting Moon looked from one of them to the other, his gaze at last settling on Adam.  “We do not want the white man here.  Long have we fought to drive him from our shores and lives.  My father ran with Tecumseh.”  The warrior paused.  “He died with Tecumseh as well, as did any hope that we might see that day.  Young men have much anger.  They think that anger can change the world.  When they are older, they grow wise enough to see that it does nothing but destroy.”

            “But my brother said he had an army on the way,” Adam countered.  “And that he did not expect to live to see his mission accomplished.  What is that if not a call to war?”

            Waiting Moon shook his head slowly.  “The Indian cannot win.  There will be no war.  Your brother has chosen a path to make that true.”

            “I don’t understand.”

            “The army Runs Deep spoke of that is coming is not native.  It is the white man’s army.  He has made a path for them to follow.  Once and for all the Indian must see truth.”  Waiting Moon’s voice broke with fatigue and not a little despair.  “It is over.  We must disappear into the west.”

            John Johnston had remained silent up until this moment.  It was obvious Waiting Moon’s words troubled him – most likely, as they were true.  “Where is Runs Deep?  Where is Tobias Fox?”

            The look out of the Cherokee warrior’s eyes was pained.  “He has been taken by Hawk.  Most likely, he is dead.”

            “No,” Adam declared, even as tears ran down his sister’s cheeks.  “No, I will not believe that!  We have only just found him again.”

            “What do you think will happen to him?” Waiting Moon’s words were angry.  “Runs Deep knew it would come to this.  To save his people, he is willing to die.”
            “Well, I’m not willing to let him!”  Adam crossed to one of the remaining Cherokee warriors and demanded his weapon.  When the man hesitated, he turned to Waiting Moon.  “Tell him!”

            Waiting Moon nodded, but said nothing.

            “Adohi, no!”  Sunalei broke free of her husband’s arms to run to her brother’s side.  “I will not lose both of you!”

            Israel was beside her in a second.  Bekah and Curious Dent followed close behind.  The old man was clutching his ancient blunderbuss and nodded.  “Adam, we’ll all go,” Israel said.

            “No.”  Adam touched his sister’s arm.  “You have responsibilities.  I have no one but myself.  Stay safe, both of you.  Go home to your children.”

            John Johnston stepped forward.  “I will go with him.  I know the Indians and the soldiers.  I can put an end to this before it escalates into something none of us wants.”

            Dan remained quiet, listening to the voices of youth, remembering how it had once been with him.  The aches in his bones, the slowing down, the loss of sharpness were a high price to pay for wisdom, but in the end, he knew it was worth it.  Many were the times he had been torn between home and duty, but he knew what he had had to do as a man to live with himself.

            “Mingo and I will mind Sunalei.  You young’uns go and do what you have to.’

            His old friend glanced at him.  Dan could tell Mingo was wondering what he was up to.  With a nod, he added, “We will only slow you down.”

            “Where’s that leave me?” Curious Dent asked as he locked picked up his Bessie under his arm. 

“Well, where do you want to be, Dent?” Dan asked with a smile.

            “At home in front of my fire with a pint of Thunder in my hand and, dang it, I could care less whether its blue or brown!” the tavern-keeper answered with a twitch and a grin.  “Barring that?  Well, then, in the thick of it!  I may not be able to run with the wind like these youngsters, but I certainly can keep watch.”

            Dan nodded.  Then his eyes went to his granddaughter.  Bekah had said little.  He had watched her earlier, watching everyone else and seeming to weigh their actions against her own strong sense of justice.  The war woman reached out and touched Dent’s arm. 

“You are brave, old one,” she stated and then turned to her father.  “We must go.”

            “To battle!” Waiting Moon shouted, lifting his hand with the rifle in it into the air.  As his men echoed his words, he proclaimed, “To victory!”

            “I’ll come back,” Israel said as he kissed his wife’s cheek.  “I promise.”
            The path Copperhead’s daughter had chosen was not an easy one.  Dan could see the truth of that reflected in Sunalei’s dark eyes.  She held her husband’s hand a moment longer, and then let him go.  There were no tears.  No goodbyes.

            As he, Mingo and Sunalei watched the last of the young people disappear into the trees, his old friend turned to him.  Mingo arched one silver eyebrow.  “I assume, as usual, that you have a plan, Daniel?”

            Dan hesitated, then grinned.  “Don’t I always?”  A moment later he turned to Sunalei.  “I’m sorry, but it means we have to leave you on your own.”

            The Cherokee woman shook her head.  “I will go with you.  My child, my husband, go to battle.  I can do no less.”

            “Israel wouldn’t want – ”

            Sunalei’s dark eyes sought his.  “You take me, or I will follow.”

            He stared her down and when she didn’t flinch, Dan said, “I bet you will.”  He looked at Mingo.  “I guess it’s three then.”

“You mean to sneak in through the back door, do you not, Daniel,” Mingo said.  “While the hounds of war are clawing at the front?”

            Dan nodded.  “We came here to find Hawk and see that he faces justice, and that’s what we’re goin’ to do.  And if we take him, then maybe – just maybe….”

            Sunalei shivered.  Raising her cloak, she wrapped it about her lean frame.  And then she whispered, “Maybe then, there will be no war.”