Queen (41 page)

    only to spite Andrew, and he has much support. They want to have the

    treaties declared invalid." James knew this too; the newspapers were full

    of it.

    With guilt as its wind, fear, like an approaching, unwelcome storm,

    appeared on James's untroubled horizon. Even if only one of Andrew's

    treaties with the Indians was renounced, any of them could be, including

    the one that governed this land. His land.

    "Which treaties?" he wondered, with an outward calm he did not feel.

    "Any of them," John echoed James's private thoughts. "All of them,

    perhaps."

    It was an old business, which James thought long forgotten, but it had

    come back to haunt him.

    "But we won the land in war! We paid them for it!" James almost shouted.

    "They took the money! It is a contract in law."

    "Well, yes, we did," John remained calm. "But we didn't pay them very

    much, nothing like the true worth-"

    "The land has no worth, it has no value, unless it is available for white

    settlement!" It was so simple to James, he couldn't understand that it

    could be questioned.

    "Sometimes you sound exactly like Andrew." John smiled, as if to reassure

    his troubled host, but actually having the reverse effect, which was what

    he intended.

    An awful realization hit James, somewhere in the pit of his stomach. I

    am no better than the rest of them, he thought. Let the Indians have

    their land, but other land, not mine.

"It is being said in Washington that Andrew obtained the

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treaty corruptly, by paying massive bribes," John continued. "Particularly

to the Colbert brothers."

    He had used the singular "treaty," not the plural "treaties," and now he

    added a clarification that might have been an afterthought but was, in

    reality, well rehearsed.

"I mean the Chickasaw treaty."

    James already knew that. "There were no bribes," he insisted, knowing he

    was lying.

    John sighed. "Well, actually, there were," he said. "And you were at the

    heart of it, It would be a pity if evidence of them ever came to light,

    don't you think?" Suddenly he was bored with James, and wanted the

    business done.

    James was visibly shaken, and John was satisfied. "I did nothing," James

    insisted. "I bought my land and paid for it, and that is all."

    "You also lent a very great deal of money to Andrew at that time." John

    twisted the knife. "What do you think that money was for?"

    James could only fall back on a lame excuse. "To pay for a war," he said.

    John barely disguised his irritation. "Don't be naive," he snapped. "The

    war was over. It was to ensure the victory."

    There wasn't much more to do. "It is said there are letters between

    Andrew and yourself that might shed more light on the matter. Andrew

    believes that any letters he wrote you should be returned to him, for his

    safekeeping." He was brisk now.

    James knew exactly which letters he meant, and knew they were political

    dynamite. He kept them locked in a strongbox. They were safe there; he

    didn't want them in anyone else's hands. Especially not John's.

    In that moment, he hated John. The man's always been a bully, he thought,

    and found some streak of stubbornness in himself, if not exactly courage.

    "They are private correspondence," he said. "If Andrew personally

    requested the return of them, and if I believed it necessary, I would

    deliver them myself."

    John saw the flash of temper in James, and knew it was a waste of time

    to argue.

"Very well. I have to go to Washington tomorrow, to an- 244 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

swer questions about the treaties. May I tell Andrew that you will keep

those letters private? I need hardly say that publication of them could

cause very serious damage to your considerable reputation."

    James nodded. He hardly heard the rest of their conversation, didn't

    remember John saying good-bye, although he responded by rote, but sat at

    his desk, trying to come to terms with what John had said.

Driving home in his carriage, John was well satisfied with his afternoon's

work. He did not despise the Indians; he simply saw them as savage beasts,

lions in a jungle, who stood in the way of progress. He resented their

unproductive occupation of so much rich land, and believed the white man's

right to that land was divinely ordained. He wished the Indians no

especial, individual harm. Like Andrew, he could be kind and generous to

those who were useful to him or allied themselves to him in the

prosecution of his ideals. He particularly admired the warriors, the

braves, worthy prey for his military skill.

    He did despise weak men, especially those lily-livered dunces in

    Washington. How could he explain to them, here in the prosperous

    afternoon of his life, what it had been like, all those years ago, in the

    exultant morning? Andrew had led them in battle against the Creek and

    they had won, obtaining a cession of land in the victory spoils, but no

    one, not even he as subsequent surveyor appointed by Andrew, knew how

    much land the Creek could be said to own. Indian lands had no borders or

    boundaries as white men understood them. The Cherokee, who had aided them

    in the war against the Creek, laid claim to much of it, as did the

    Chickasaw. So Andrew and John, by force, persuasion, coercion, and-it was

    a fact of life-bribery, had simply appropriated as much of the land as

    they could.

    And what did it matter if money had been paid to a couple of individual

    Chickasaw in the treaty for their land, rather than to the whole tribe?

    The government had what it wanted, which was the point, and the Chickasaw

    would soon be gone. Why make a fuss about it now?

He had also come to despise James.

James was only a tiny fragment in the elaborate jigsaw of

    MERGING 245

Indian removal that Andrew was piecing together. So much gossip and

misplaced indignation surrounded his dealings with the Indians that one

more scandal could hardly matter. But the imminent removal of the

Chickasaw, and the desperate plight of the Cherokee, was causing furious

argument, especially from the hypocritical New Englanders, who had

annihilated or banished their Indian populations long ago and now claimed

piety. Positive information that a treaty had been obtained illegally, by

bribes, could cause the whole thing to blow up in their faces. James had

that proof because his money had paid the bribes, and despite the repair

work that had been done to the rift between them, Andrew no longer

completely trusted James, and thought he should be neutralized. Which

John, very effectively, had done.

    Put the fear of God in him, he thought. He sneezed, and wondered if he

    was catching a summer cold.

James didn't eat that night, didn't even leave his study, and the tray

that was sent in to him remained untouched. He thought of burning the

incriminating letters, destroying them and proof of his culpability

forever, but he also knew that as long as he possessed them they gave him

powerful ascendancy over Andrew. Sally probed him gently later, in bed

that night, but he could not discuss his troubles with her, or with

anyone, until he had come to terms with them himself. In the week since

John's visit, he had worried and fretted about what had been said, and it

was only today that he had been able to come to any decisions.

    It was unlikely, he was sure, that his titles to his land would be

    questioned. Sure, but not certain. The battle between the states and the

    federal government as to who had what authority over which land was a

    continuing and complex one. He remembered that, years ago, half the

    squatters in what was now Kentucky had lost title when Washington had

    denied North Carolina's assumed rights to the territory. He remembered

    that the most prolitable business for any lawyer on the frontier was from

    the endless claims and counterclaims as to who owned land. He had thought

    all the dealings of the Cypress Land Company to have an unassailable

    basis in law, but he had come to understand over the years, when he

    admitted the truth

246 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

to himself, that much of what the company had sold had been obtained by

Andrew and John Coffee in an appalling, and probably illegal, land grab.

    And it was certain that if anyone found out that his money had paid the

    bribes to the Colbert brothers, it would destroy his political career and

    the reputation he had worked so hard to achieve.

    The darkest truth of all was one he could hardly bear to admit, for James

    had come to believe that what had been done, was being done, to the

    Indians was no different from what the British had done to his countrymen

    in Ireland. He now believed himself to be as corrupt as his sometime

    oppressors, a complaisant pawn in a dreadful colonization, subjugation,

    and degradation of a native people by a foreign power.

    That he was not alone in feeling this didn't help. Many of his

    associates, business and political, were now expressing concern over what

    had been wrought, but it was especially bitter for James, for he saw he

    had been so easily corrupted. Settled and affluent, away from Andrew's

    powerful influence, he had begun to believe that every acre he had

    purchased was contributing to the destruction of a race. Nor did he

    seriously believe Andrew's, or John's, or anyone's, assertions that the

    removal would be the end of it. The frantically expanding society that

    was America needed ever more space, and going west was the clarion call

    of the pioneers. James had heard it, like uncountable others, and it

    still beckoned him; he longed to go farther still, to the fabled land of

    California. Realistically, he knew that he would never see the distant

    Pacific, but others would, driving the Indians before them until the

    proud few who were left stood with their backs to the boundless ocean,

    and then where would they go?

    The bitter fires of injustices he had seen in his youth, in Ireland, were

    kindled again in his heart. Enough, he thought, we have done enough. It

    must be stopped.

    Andrew was the lock and the letters were the key. Andrew could make

    anything happen; the world seemed to jump to his command. If Andrew could

    be persuaded against the removal, if he could be made to see the

    necessity of an accommodation with the Indians, of learning how to live

    compatibly with them, side by side, perhaps something could be salvaged

    from the wreck.

    MERGING 247

    The arrival of the wedding invitation that morning had fallen on his

    troubled soul like manna from heaven. Andrew's accompanying letter had

    been in a reasonable, placatory tone, making few references to the

    subject that was so vexing James. He would see Andrew in Nashville, at

    the wedding, and persuade him of the folly of the path on which he was

    so resolutely determined, or else he would threaten to publish the

    letters. That would make Andrew see sense. And at heart, he told himself,

    Andrew loved the Indians; they were his children, he their father.

    Having come to a decision, or having decided on a course of action at

    least, James felt much better, and another concern presented itself for

    his attention.

Jass.

    He was quite proud of his son-no one could deny Jass's sense of duty and

    honor-but part of him longed for another son, or different aspects to the

    one he had. Oh, for a son who would give his father a sense of

    exhilaration and danger, make him stand in awe of the giant that sprang

    from his loins, a son like the man James had always wanted to be.

    A son who would ride a streak of lightning. Someone had said that once

    about Andrew, and it summed up James's longings exactly. Andrew rode

    lightning. So had Sean. A.J. might have. He wasn't so sure about Jass.

    He saw too much of himself in Jass, and just as a shepherd is a king to

    his flock, so a son is a monument to the man who created him.

    For James lived in an agony of self-doubt. As with his present guilt

    about the Indians, the high moralist in him believed that slavery was an

    unbearable sin. He wanted to free them all, to set up this estate as a

    utopian ideal of what a prosperous, well-managed and slaveless plantation

    could be. The other part of him, the pragmatic, practical, materially

    ambitious part, had cast his lot with Andrew, and thus with the

    institutions the South espoused, and thus with slavery and with the

    appropriation of Indian land. And it had made him rich. And it had given

    him power. His father's final words to him were a distant whisper now,

    but they still had painful echoes:

"You will never amount to anything."

    He had proved his father wrong. He had amounted to something, whatever

    the cost, and he took a resonating pride in the

248 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

achievement. The Forks of Cypress and all it represented were his and

would remain so, by right of title and right of tenure. But would Jass

ever amount to anything? That was the constant, secret fear the father

held for his son. The fear would never be voiced, for he had sworn that

he would never say to his sons what his father had said to him, though

when he had first made that vow, he had no conception that he might have

a son who would even warrant the thought.

    Jass would amount to something; he would see to it. If the boy could not

    do it for himself, it was up to the father to do it for him. So lass must

    marry, and marry well, sooner rather than later, and have sons, and those

    sons would ensure the future prosperity of all he had striven so very

    hard to achieve.

    He was drunk now, he knew it, and found himself staring at a dreadful

    truth. He hadn't worked so very hard for anything. It had all come to him

    from someone else's largess. A man more daring than he had given him

    everything he owned, crumbs from a giant's table. He hadn't ridden on any

    streak of lightning, merely on Andrew's coattails.

    The absolute inadequacy he now felt, together with the drink, made him

    sentimental. His thoughts turned to A.J., and to the sons he might have

    had. Waves of loss washed over James, and he found himself crying, tears

    that might have been for his dead boy, but were as much for himself.

    30

Early next morning, Easter was hanging newly dyed cloth on the line to dry

when she became aware that Jass was nearby. She looked at him, wondering

if he had news for her. Cap'n Jack had shrugged his shoulders when she

asked him if he'd said anything to the Massa about the wedding, and

ordered her not to fill her head with dreams. But she didn't want to

believe him.

Jass was lounging against a tree with a silly grin on his

    MERGING 249

face, watching her. He knew something, she was sure. Why didn't he tell

her?

    "Pretty color," he said. The cloth, still dripping wet, was dyed a deep

    reddish brown.

    Easter lost her temper. "You got nuttin' better to do than stare at me?"

    she demanded. She jammed the clothes prop under the line, and stalked

    away to the weaving house.

    "It's all right," he called after her, laughing. "You can go, You'll be

    Sassy's maid. And you can wear a pretty frock and everything."

    Her reaction was not delayed for an instant. She squealed with delight,

    and ran toward him. He met her halfway and she jumped into his arms.

    Elated by her joy, he swirled her round and round in the air and knocked

    into the clothes prop, which dragged the line down on top of them, and

    now they were rolling together on the ground, covered in the wet cloth.

    Laughing together, without a care in the world, until he was on top of

    her looking into her eyes, and seemed to be looking, she felt, into her

    very soul, and she could see inside him, almost to his heart, when

    suddenly something changed.

In that moment, all of Sally's fears had come true.

    Jass pulled himself away.from her, got up and turned his back, as if to

    hide himself from her.

"Look at my clothes," he said, angrily.

    Easter wasn't sure what had happened. It had been so wonderful, locked

    in his laughing embrace, the warmest place in all the world, and then

    she'd felt this unaccustomed hardness pressing against her belly. She

    knew what it was-she was not a stupid girl-and it didn't bother her. It

    felt natural and right. Clearly, it bothered Jass.

    She wanted to say something to calm him, to let him know that she loved

    that special closeness of him, that he could do anything he wanted with

    her, but she feared his rejection.

    "Yo' mammy gwine be mad," she ventured. "That dye don't come out."

    He muttered something about fixing his clothes, and walked away. She

    didn't know he was vowing that he would see less of her from now on.

    She looked at her own clothes. They were covered in dye, too, and Easter

    let out a howl of disappointment. They were

250 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

only her work clothes, but they were all she had. What would she wear to

Nashville?

The summer passed in an orgy of preparation for the coming wedding, and a

constant parade of visiting relations, so that the house seemed to be

cluttered with Jacksons and Hannas and Kirkmans and seamstresses and drapers

and tailors. The family would be in Nashville for a week, which meant ten

complete new outfits for Sally and Sassy, for no woman of substance would

consider wearing the same thing twice in such fon-nidable society.

    Merchants in Florence sent bolts upon bolts of cloth for their inspection.

    House slaves stitched and sewed and measured and fitted, and the house was

    filled with such an overwhelming urgency of female matters that Jass was

    happy to be out of it all. He had been measured for new clothes too, by the

    tailor from Florence, but it had taken only a few minutes of time, and he

    found it difficult to understand how the women's could take a whole summer.

    Jass was trying to keep his vow not to see so much of Easter. The

    unspeakable thing that had happened in their embrace had shocked him. He

    knew what it meant, and he knew that he wanted her, but he wasn't ready for

    such an enormous adventure yet, such a complication to their relationship.

    Even on those few occasions when he did try to see her, it was mostly a

    waste of time. She was having only two new dresses for Nashville, simple

    linen for day, muslin for evening, but she fussed about them almost as much

    as any woman going to the wedding. In any case, she was in the big house

    most of the time, getting instruction from Angel in her new duties, and

    didn't want to be away from the center of dressmaking activity when she had

    nothing else to do.

    Cap'n Jack was as busy as the rest of the staff, at the beck and call of

    the visitors and responsible for the welfare of the visitors' slaves.

    Jass, left to his own devices, spent the time riding and swimming and

    visiting friends from school in the district. He even spent a cheery

    afternoon with Wesley, who enjoyed Jass's company when they had no quarrel,

    and delighted in titillating Jass with his most recent conquests of female

    slaves. They

    MERGING 251

had sparred together for a while, and Wesley had given Jass several hints

on the finer points of boxing, even though the information might very well

be used against him in some future fight with Jass.

    William, Alexander, and George had come home for the summer from school

    in Nashville. They were always pleased to be with Jass, but were

    completely content, possibly happier, with their own company. Cheeky,

    bustling, even more of a tight-knit group than before, they became known