Read Online Citizens Creek by Lalita Tademy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lalita Tademy
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I rode east alongside them.”
“We thought to use the natural bad blood between the tribes, and match fierceness of Seminoles with fierceness of Creeks. But that is not the way it turned out.”
Cow Tom projected his listening face, assumed his attentive, ready-to-be-taught demeanor.
“I find the Creek warrior doesn’t have much stomach for the job we have here. Even toward a natural enemy. So the Creek warriors are suddenly tired. The Creek warriors are suddenly sick. The Creek warriors can’t find the Seminole camps or their trails. The Creek warriors drink so much they prove useless in the field. The numbers dwindle until there are only a hundred, not seven hundred. Like a fever, this attitude spreads. Like a contagion. And before you know it, everybody catches the fever. Instead of the discipline of a soldier, this weakness, this fever. From soldier on the horse to tracker and translator in the field. More and more, I’m forced to use non-Indians to round up Seminoles. Why is that?”
Cow Tom wanted a drink, something to steady himself. He pushed away the thought of the families of conscripted Creek warriors held hostage in camps somewhere as guarantee of their good behavior. He sent out another silent prayer about Amy and brought himself back to face the general.
Jesup jabbed a finger in Cow Tom’s chest, his face just inches from Cow Tom’s nose. “Are you in cahoots with Osceola?”
“No, sir.”
“I ask again. Did you help the Seminoles escape?”
“No, sir. We didn’t expect Osceola, but there he was. We counted on the Seminoles to Remove peaceably. You saw them sign the agreement at Capitulation. They swore to Remove when they turned themselves in.”
“I send three to Fort Brooke and only two return. Both Creeks. Black Creeks. At final count we had the main chiefs, the war near over.”
“Osceola took my ear,” said Cow Tom. He fought the assault of the general’s withering gaze. “Sir. I’m serving the right side. I serve you.”
The general calmed a bit and paced the room. Cow Tom didn’t think the matter finished, but Jesup appeared to have moved on.
“We had them. We had most all in one place waiting for the damned boats!”
“Osceola brought hundreds of braves.”
The general fixed Cow Tom with a stony stare. “So he forced them. Osceola forced the Seminoles to break pledge?”
“Micanopy maybe would stand Removal, but found his advisers primed to join Osceola. So all followed, except a handful.” Cow Tom judged the moment right. Now or never. “They were angry their Negroes were separated from them at Fort Volusia, and the agreement broken. It might be helpful to send me to Fort Volusia to sense the mood there.”
The general didn’t respond. “And my soldiers at Fort Brooke?” he asked.
“We buried eleven before we left,” said Cow Tom. “One from measles, the rest at Osceola’s hands.”
The general continued his pacing of the width of the small room.
Cow Tom made one last attempt. “Some of the Negroes at Fort Volusia lived alongside Osceola and Micanopy for years. They’d know hideouts, habits. I could learn much.”
The general didn’t bother to disguise his distaste, suspicion written plainly on his face. “I’ll never trust the word of an Indian again,” the general said.
Cow Tom could have pointed out that both the general and the Seminoles had broken trust in equal measure, but the general was in no mood to listen. Did he include Creeks as well as Seminoles in his new resolve against all things Indian? And what about Cow Tom himself? Did the general consider him Creek or Negro, or did his classification vary depending on circumstance?
“The sooner we get every Seminole loaded on boats west,” the general said, “the better.” His voice turned cold. “With or without the Negroes. That’s my job. Measles or no, we tighten security on all forts. We will find Osceola and Micanopy and the rest, and when we do, we’ll burn their camps to
“We thought to use the natural bad blood between the tribes, and match fierceness of Seminoles with fierceness of Creeks. But that is not the way it turned out.”
Cow Tom projected his listening face, assumed his attentive, ready-to-be-taught demeanor.
“I find the Creek warrior doesn’t have much stomach for the job we have here. Even toward a natural enemy. So the Creek warriors are suddenly tired. The Creek warriors are suddenly sick. The Creek warriors can’t find the Seminole camps or their trails. The Creek warriors drink so much they prove useless in the field. The numbers dwindle until there are only a hundred, not seven hundred. Like a fever, this attitude spreads. Like a contagion. And before you know it, everybody catches the fever. Instead of the discipline of a soldier, this weakness, this fever. From soldier on the horse to tracker and translator in the field. More and more, I’m forced to use non-Indians to round up Seminoles. Why is that?”
Cow Tom wanted a drink, something to steady himself. He pushed away the thought of the families of conscripted Creek warriors held hostage in camps somewhere as guarantee of their good behavior. He sent out another silent prayer about Amy and brought himself back to face the general.
Jesup jabbed a finger in Cow Tom’s chest, his face just inches from Cow Tom’s nose. “Are you in cahoots with Osceola?”
“No, sir.”
“I ask again. Did you help the Seminoles escape?”
“No, sir. We didn’t expect Osceola, but there he was. We counted on the Seminoles to Remove peaceably. You saw them sign the agreement at Capitulation. They swore to Remove when they turned themselves in.”
“I send three to Fort Brooke and only two return. Both Creeks. Black Creeks. At final count we had the main chiefs, the war near over.”
“Osceola took my ear,” said Cow Tom. He fought the assault of the general’s withering gaze. “Sir. I’m serving the right side. I serve you.”
The general calmed a bit and paced the room. Cow Tom didn’t think the matter finished, but Jesup appeared to have moved on.
“We had them. We had most all in one place waiting for the damned boats!”
“Osceola brought hundreds of braves.”
The general fixed Cow Tom with a stony stare. “So he forced them. Osceola forced the Seminoles to break pledge?”
“Micanopy maybe would stand Removal, but found his advisers primed to join Osceola. So all followed, except a handful.” Cow Tom judged the moment right. Now or never. “They were angry their Negroes were separated from them at Fort Volusia, and the agreement broken. It might be helpful to send me to Fort Volusia to sense the mood there.”
The general didn’t respond. “And my soldiers at Fort Brooke?” he asked.
“We buried eleven before we left,” said Cow Tom. “One from measles, the rest at Osceola’s hands.”
The general continued his pacing of the width of the small room.
Cow Tom made one last attempt. “Some of the Negroes at Fort Volusia lived alongside Osceola and Micanopy for years. They’d know hideouts, habits. I could learn much.”
The general didn’t bother to disguise his distaste, suspicion written plainly on his face. “I’ll never trust the word of an Indian again,” the general said.
Cow Tom could have pointed out that both the general and the Seminoles had broken trust in equal measure, but the general was in no mood to listen. Did he include Creeks as well as Seminoles in his new resolve against all things Indian? And what about Cow Tom himself? Did the general consider him Creek or Negro, or did his classification vary depending on circumstance?
“The sooner we get every Seminole loaded on boats west,” the general said, “the better.” His voice turned cold. “With or without the Negroes. That’s my job. Measles or no, we tighten security on all forts. We will find Osceola and Micanopy and the rest, and when we do, we’ll burn their camps to
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