William Johnstone - Eyes of Eagles

“It’s so much, Jamie!” Kate said.

“It’ll seem like nothing when we’re on the trail, Kate. And I’ve still got most of the money Sam gave me ... us.”

Kate smiled. “You’re catching on real quick, Jamie.” She laughed and hugged him, and Jamie had him a thought that maybe the horses needed a rest and while they were resting, he and Kate could find some bushes to get behind and...

He shook his head. Best to not think about that. Kate had told him there was a time and a place for everything.

He gave the farmer and his wife their promised sacks of sugar and flour and salt and a few other articles that Kate had picked out for the woman and her two young children, a boy and a girl. The man and his wife were embarrassed by the generosity of the young couple.

Jamie leveled with the man and the wife while the kids ran off to play with their new geegaws. “We’re running, folks. We’ve committed no crimes and we’re not living in sin. We were married back up the trail. But there are some killers after us. They’re bad people. If they should stop here, and they might, you never saw us.”

“You go with God, young feller,” the settler said. “And don’t you worry none about us sayin’ a thing. We can be right tight-lipped when we taken a mind to it.”

Jamie and Kate packed up and pulled out within the hour, the farmer’s wife shaking her head at Kate’s wearing men’s britches, and horrified at her riding astride.

“That girl will come to no good end,” she said to her husband.

“Maybe that’s the way they do it back east now,” he replied. “This younger generation is sure goin’ to hell in a handbasket. No tellin’ what they’ll be doin’ next.”

“It’s the devil’s work, for sure.”

* * *

Jamie and Kate pushed westward, riding deeper into the wilderness, behind them came the Newby Brothers and behind them rode John Jackson and Hart Olmstead and their followers. Jamie and Kate both felt that John and Hart would eventually give up and return to Kentucky, for they had businesses to run and farms to tend back there, and neither was a wealthy man. The Newby Brothers were a different story however. Jamie and Kate had learned from talking to people along the way that the Newbys were highwaymen, wanted in several states and territories, and they were also friends with the Saxon gang. Since the Saxon Brothers escaped from jail, several years back, they had become the leaders of one of the most infamous and feared gangs in the country, robbing and raping and killing and plundering wherever they rode, which was wherever and whenever they chose.

Although both Jamie and Kate would have liked to visit the hot springs, which they had read and heard about, and which had been used by Indians for centuries, believing the hot water had magical healing powers, the springs lay south of where the young couple rode, and they felt sure their pursuers would go there in search of them. The two pressed on westward. They encountered Indians, but the Caddos gave them no trouble and most were friendly.

On the fourth day out of Little Rock, camped at the edge of a little lake in the Ouachita Mountains, a voice halloed their camp. Jamie put his hand on the butt of a pistol and waited.

“I be friendly, young folks,” the man said, walking his horse closer. “And I be alone. Smelled your food a-cookin’ and the coffee boilin’. I’ll ride on if you say to.”

“Come on in,” Jamie told him. “We’re as friendly as you are.”

The man dismounted and saw to his horse’s needs. He squatted by the fire and took the cup of coffee Kate handed him. “Obliged, missy.”

Jamie noted that the man was not that much older than he was. He figured him maybe twenty or so at the most. The full beard made him appear much older.

“I been to St. Louis to see the sights and sell my pelts,” the man said. “Thought I’d just take me a look-see down this way ’fore I headed back to the mountains. I been to Fort Pickering; some folks has taken to callin’ it Memphis. Silliest name I ever did hear. What’s it mean, anyways?”

“I think it has something to do with Egypt,” Kate said.

“Do tell.”

“My name’s Sonny and this is Tess,” Jamie said. “It ain’t done it, neither,” the buckskin-clad man said with a smile. “But you’ll find the further west you head, names don’t account for much. It’s more what a man does now than what he’s got behind him. And right now, you got a mess of trouble comin’ hard on your heels... Jamie and Kate MacCallister.”

The stranger’s eyes hardened, his smile vanished, and he reached for a pistol stuck in his sash.

Ten

The young couple tensed as the stranger’s hand closed on the butt of the pistol.

“Relax, kids,” he said. “I’m just tired of this thing pokin’ me in the ribs.” He laid the pistol on the ground, beside him.

Jamie eyed his rifle and pistol, out of his reach.

“Don’t never get away from your guns, boy,” the stranger said. “Not out here. It was smart of you, buying them extree guns back at Little Rock. Man can’t never have too many.”

“Are you spying on us, sir?” Kate asked, her eyes flashing with anger.

“Nope. You might say I’m sort of your guardian for part of this trip you’re on.”

“Why?” Jamie asked.

“I know your grandpa, boy. That’s why.”

“Will you stop calling me boy? You’re not more than five or six years older than I am.”

The man smiled. “In man’s years, son, that’s right. But in experience, you’ll never catch up with me. I went west when I was a lot younger than you.” He smiled that strange smile. “Man Who Is Not Afraid.”

“You said you know my grandfather?”

“Yep. And he’s alive and well and damn spry for his age, too.” He looked at Kate. “Kindly pardon my language, ma’am.” He looked back at Jamie. “When I heard a young feller name of MacCallister was being tracked — I was told that over at a tradin’ post on the White — I done me a little investigatin’ and decided to drift on over this way. I picked up your trail north of the city and been watchin’ you. You do tolerable well in the wilderness, boy. Tolerable. Them Shawnees taught you good. Now I’m fixin’ to teach you a bit more whilst we head west. I’ll leave you a ways after we cross the Red, ’cause I’ve got me a yearnin’ for the mountains and the plains. I been missin’ ’em something fierce, I have.”

“I’ll see them someday,” Jamie said. “Me and Kate.”

“Probably,” the man agreed. “And once you do, you’ll never leave ’em for long. They pull at you. The plains is something a body’s got to see to believe. And the mountains? Well, words can’t describe ’em.”

The stranger sighed and shook his head. “The mountains get to a man. I’ve been ramblin’ on some. You mind if I have me a taste of that stew you got cookin’ in the pot, Missy?”

“Of course not. I’ll get you a plate.”

“Then you’re a mountain man?” Jamie asked.

“I reckon,” the stranger replied, taking the plate filled with stew. He ate several spoonfuls. “Good grub, Missy. Man gets tired of his own cookin’.” He smiled. “And I ’spect a woman does too, now, ain’t that right?”

Kate laughed at him. “Oh, yes.”

Jamie and Kate took a liking to the friendly and easygoing stranger. As he ate, he told them about Jamie’s grandfather, and about the way of life of the mountain men. Then he had Jamie tell him what type of supplies they’d purchased back in the “city”.

The stranger grunted his approval. “You’ll do, Jamie MacCallister. You’ll do. You brought just what you’ll need and no more. You didn’t waste good cash money on geegaws and foofaws. And you got a good eye for horseflesh. That big black of yours is better than a watchdog — ain’t I right?”