Around the River's Bend (27 page)

The two spoke of titles and land, and Fox apparently knew a great deal about them. He knew about all the treaties the white men had made with the Indians and mentioned that most of them had been violated.

Fox fell silent for a time, then finally he turned and said, “What do you think about Sion and Hannah?”

The question surprised Sabrina. “What do you mean?”

“Surely you must have noticed she favors him.”

“Why, I hadn't noticed. He never mentions her.”

“Well, she mentions him,” Fox said rather grimly. “She talks about him a lot. I think she's interested in him.”

Sabrina had picked up enough to know that Hannah and Fox had been interested in each other at one time. Now she turned to study the young man and saw that he looked sad. “Why, I don't think there's anything to that. You know he's bound to me for five years—a little less now.”

“That wouldn't matter to Hannah.”

Sabrina found herself troubled by this. She knew that if Sion would marry, his loyalty would lie with his wife and not with her. She had become accustomed to his care, and the thought of losing him was not pleasant. She shook her head. “He's never said a word about her.”

“Why, he wouldn't to you,” Fox said. “I think it's a bad thing for Hannah.”

“That's because you're interested in her yourself, isn't it, Fox?”

“Yes, I am,” he said simply.

****

Later that afternoon while they were getting a drink of water at the cabin raising, Fox found himself telling his uncle what was troubling him. Sequatchie listened, and Fox's remark did not come as a surprise. “You must tell Hannah how you feel.”

“Well, I'm not sure myself.”

“I think you are. You wouldn't be so troubled if you didn't care for her. She's a wonderful young woman. You couldn't do better.”

Fox did not reply, but he carried the words of Sequatchie in his mind all afternoon. During the evening meal Fox managed to sit with Hannah after she had finished serving. He said, “This is good. You're a fine cook, Hannah.”

“My mother is. I suppose I've learned a little from her.”

The two spoke about unimportant things for a time, and finally, after the others at their table had stood and started to gather for the evening's festivities, Fox turned to her. “Hannah, I want to tell you something.”

———

Hannah's mind had been far away. She had been only half paying attention to their conversation, but now she saw the seriousness on Fox's face. “What is it?” she asked. But even before he answered, she knew. She was young in years but had a great deal of discernment. She remembered how before Fox had left to go back east and settle the matter of his plantation he had told her that he had a special feeling for her. She had not responded except to say that she was glad he liked her. Now, however, she saw that his face was drawn and tight, and she knew what he was going to say.

“I settled all of my affairs when I sold the plantation. I want to buy land, and I want to build a house.” He hesitated for a moment and then put his hand over hers. “And I'd like for you to think about marrying me, Hannah. You know I care for you, don't you?”

“Why, Fox . . .” His declaration did not exactly catch Hannah off guard, yet it had come sooner than she had expected. She could not answer for a moment as she thought rapidly. Finally she said, “I'm honored you think of me like that, but I'm not sure it would be a good match.”

“It would be for me. You'd be a good wife for any man.” When she did not answer, he said, “You're different, Hannah. You've changed.”

“Changed? Why, I don't think so.”

“You have. I think you cared for me, or were beginning to, before I left. But now you're interested in another man.”

Hannah flushed, for he had touched on a nerve. “I don't know why you should say that,” she said defensively.

“Because it's true. You're in love with Sion Kenyon!”

“Why, he's never courted me.”

“But you've hoped that he would.”

Hannah knew his statement was true, but at the same time she wasn't at all sure how she felt. She was confused, for she found Sion one of the most attractive men she had ever known. She had thought, perhaps, it was simply that he was different. His language was different, and he was entertaining. He was also a fine Christian, which she admired. She had watched him carefully for any signs of weakness and had found none. Now, however, she found herself defensively saying, “There's nothing between Sion and me. Why, he's never even tried to court me.”

“That's because he's indentured, and that makes it a little more complicated.”

“Yes, I suppose you're right.”

For a while, neither of them spoke, then suddenly Fox burst out, “If I weren't half Indian, you would feel differently!”

“That's not true!” Hannah responded. “It never has been true and it never will be.”

“Yes it is!” Fox said breathlessly. He got up and walked away with his back stiff.

Hannah sat there confused and angry. She was confused by Fox's sudden declaration, for she had not expected it, and she was angry that he had accused her of something that had never entered her mind. Not once had she been put off by Fox's Indian blood. She had found him an attractive young man and had thought that someday he might come courting. She was a sensitive young woman, and Fox's words had hurt her. Now she looked over to where Sion was sitting talking with Hawk and went over at once to sit down beside him. In her hurt it felt good to make him hurt a little too. She saw that Fox was watching them and made herself smile and give her full attention to Sion.

———

When the young men began to have their usual after-dinner frolic, Fox was still angry. He entered the running race and won, as usual, but when it came time for wrestling and boxing, he shocked everyone when he walked over to Sion and said, “I think I can whip you, Sion. I know you're a fighter and all that, but I don't care.”

“Why, Fox!” Sion said, astonishment sweeping over his face. “What are you talking about?”

“I don't think you're as tough as everybody else says. Now, come on!”

Fox squared away, and Sion blinked with astonishment. He looked around and saw that everyone was as surprised as he was. “I don't want to fight you, Fox.”

“You're going to have to!” Fox knew he was behaving like a fool, but his anger overrode his common sense. He stepped forward and struck Sion in the mouth, and instantly blood seeped out.

Sion, taken completely off guard, automatically lifted his hands, but he still protested. “This is foolishness, Fox!”

But Fox was determined to finish what he had started. He threw himself forward, raining blows upon Sion. Hannah cried out, “Stop it, Fox!” But her words only drove Fox on.

Sion caught his balance and managed to block most of the blows, but he did take several, including one in the forehead that stunned him. After defending himself for several minutes, he finally threw a hard right, which caught Fox directly on the jaw. Sion's superior weight and his strength, combined with Fox's forward motion, caught Fox with a solid, meaty blow. It drove Fox backward, and he lay there still, except for his legs, which were twitching.

“I didn't mean to do that,” Sion said as he bent over to help Fox up. “Come on, Fox. Let's forget all this nonsense.”

But Fox wouldn't acknowledge him. He shook his head and looked around, his eyes falling on Hannah, who was standing stiffly next to Sabrina. “Let me alone, Sion!” he said as he whirled and walked away.

Chapter Eighteen

Harvesttime

The courtroom was nothing more than a rough country store, but Andy Jackson held court wherever he could find some space. He had persuaded Judge Thomas Johnson to set up the courtroom in the middle of a mixture of canned food, harnesses, and bolts of cloth. Judge Johnson was a scrawny man with a wispy beard and a pair of sharp eyes that missed very little. He leaned back in a cane-bottomed chair from time to time, taking a bite out of the enormous pickle he had fished out of a barrel and paid for with a few pennies. His mouth puckered with the sourness of the delicacy, and it seemed to irritate him.

“If you two gentlemen will get down to business, I'd appreciate it. I've got to be over at Raven Hill before dark.”

Caleb Files spoke up immediately. “Judge, this is a very simple matter. I have a prior claim to this land in question, and all we need is a simple decision on your part to settle it.”

Judge Johnson took another bite of the pickle, pursed his lips, and swallowed it before saying, “What say you to that, Mr. Jackson?”

Andy Jackson leaned over and snorted. “I say it's a bunch of fool nonsense! That paper he's got isn't worth the paper it's written on. It was never notarized, and the date has been added in a different hand with a different kind of ink. Now,
my
client's claim is solid, Judge. This deed was made out to Sir Roger Fairfax, and the date's plain and clear. Not tampered with at all. This woman I'm representing is Sir Roger Fairfax's daughter and only heir.”

“Are you claiming that I've doctored that paper, Jackson?” Files said, his face growing red. “That's the same as callin' me a liar!”

“I haven't gotten quite that far yet, Mr. Files,” Jackson said, turning his lean face toward his opponent. “You'll know it when I call you a liar. I don't mince words. All I'm saying is that the paper you've got lacks legality.”

Judge Johnson listened as the two men argued back and forth. He had been introduced to the case before, and finally in lieu of a gavel he struck his fist down into his open hand. “All right, I've heard enough of this! We'll send these conflicting claims in and let the Continental Congress settle it.”

“Fine with me, Judge,” Jackson said. He smiled at Files and said, “Unless you'd care to give up your claim right now, Mr. Files.”

“I'll see you in Hades first, which is where you're going, Mr. Jackson!”

“Both of us, maybe.” Jackson grinned with a wolfish expression. “You take exception to the remark?”

Caleb Files clamped his lips together and turned away and left the courtroom without saying another word.

“I reckon you got him all riled up, Jackson,” Judge Johnson said. “Now, listen. Don't you go shootin' him, you hear me?”

“Not unless he provokes me more than he has already, Judge. You know what a patient man I am.”

Johnson laughed, took another bite of the pickle, and then extended it to Jackson. “Have a bite,” he said.

“Thanks, but I'll pass. I don't see how you eat that mess.”

———

Outside the general store Files fumed as he walked down the main street of Nashville. When he got to his room at the inn, he found Jack Fry sitting beside the window, staring out. He had a whiskey bottle in one hand and extended it.

“Have a snort, Files.”

Files took the bottle and drank three quick swallows. He took a deep breath as the alcohol hit him and then handed the bottle back. “You win your case?” Fry asked.

Files cursed vividly and said, “That blasted fool of a judge is sending the titles to the Congress. Now I'll have to hire somebody to look after the case or go myself.”

“It seems like a slow way of doin' business. Why don't you just run 'em off?”

Ordinarily Files would have ignored Fry's suggestion, for brute force was always the man's preference. The brutal Fry only understood one method of persuasion. The whiskey had hit Files hard, and he said little but took several more drinks. Fry watched him, meeting him drink for drink, noting that his employer was simmering with anger. “Why don't you just let me run 'em off. It wouldn't be hard. It's just that greenhorn and that dame.”

Ordinarily Files would have been more cautious, but now he was fuming over Jackson's cavalier treatment, and he said, “All right, Fry, you can have a try at it.”

“You want me to kill 'em? I wouldn't mind that—especially that Welshman.”

“They'd hang you for that, Fry. Scare 'em off, but don't shoot 'em.”

“I'll find a way.”

“Make it look good. I don't want you involved with it. They'd trace you right to me. You know what Jackson's like. He's a fox, and he never lets go.”

Fry laughed and said, “I'll get some Indians to do it. Give me some money to buy whiskey for 'em and some beads.”

****

“I got this letter from Mr. Jackson, Hannah,” Sabrina said. She took the letter out and began to read it:

“My dear Miss Fairfax,

I have good news. I met with Judge Johnson and our opponent, Mr. Files. Judge Johnson took the right view of the case. Obviously Files's deed had been altered, so Judge Johnson has sent both claims to the Continental Congress. I don't think we'll have any trouble with them. Files, of course, may hire another slick lawyer to argue the case, but I'm hopeful that we'll get this matter settled. It will take at least a month, perhaps a little longer, but things are looking better than I expected
.

Your obedient servant,
Andrew Jackson”

“That sounds very good, Sabrina!” Hannah exclaimed. “I know you'll be relieved to get this title settled.”

“Yes, I will,” Sabrina sighed. Folding the letter up, she put it back in her pocket. Hannah had come over for one of her frequent visits, and the two women had spent the morning putting up the fruits of the harvest. Hannah had been teaching Sabrina how to dry some foods and pickle others. They stored the potatoes, turnips, and onions in the root cellar that Sion had dug. Now they went outside, and Hannah looked over at the garden, which was laden with vegetables of all kinds. “You have a good harvest here.”