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Unconquered. Johnny Neil Smith
Читать онлайн.Название Unconquered
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isbn 9781611390612
Автор произведения Johnny Neil Smith
Издательство Ingram
A large smile crossed Tim’s face. “I must say, that Suzanne is one beautiful woman. With that long black hair streaming down her back, those dark brown eyes, long legs and a figure that would even catch Preacher Gilmor’s fancy, I swear I don’t have but one good leg, but I’ll tell you one thing Mister John Wilson, I’d give ever bit of that good leg of mine fer one glance of that woman in the raw.”
John immediately reached for his pillow and sailed it across the room so fast it almost unseated his friend. “It’s just like you Tim Johnson, always got your mind where it ought not to be. If’n you’d behave yourself, you could find yourself a good woman, but all you like is those women who let you have your way.”
Tim laughed. “Why don’t you go ahead and say it? I like the whores. I can have a night of passion and fun and when the sun comes up, I go my way. No commitment, no marriage, and no nagging wife to hound me twenty-four hours a day. That’s what you thinking, ain’t it?”
“I’m just saying that you have a lot to offer some woman if’n you’d just work on it a bit. You ain’t that bad,” John said.
“Talking about marriage, folks around here is saying that you and Suzanne would make a fine couple. They say y’all been doing some heavy courting and figure won’t be long ‘til Miss Suzanne and you will set up house.”
“Set up house, that’s ridiculous,” John replied getting up to retrieve his pillow. “I agree she is a fine looking woman but like Daddy always said, when you marry a woman, you also marry her family and that Olliver family is a strange lot.”
“Well, John, I don’t see how you could beat her. As I said, she is some kind of looker and her mother and Frankie own a large chunk of Newton County. Some say they is among the richest folks in Miss’sippi.”
“That’s part of the problem, Tim. I know how they got their wealth and it ain’t honorable. To my family’s disgust, Frank Senior was one of the first to bring slaves into the county. His father-in-law gave him ten or twelve to get him started and then he cheated many a poor Choctaw and white alike out of their land along the way. My daddy still believes Frank Senior was in on getting my Uncle Jake killed and that was all about land that the Choctaw Land Company wanted. Yeah, they got plenty of money but the way I see it, it’s blood money. Marriage, I don’t think so.”
“Well,” Tim said leaning back in his chair and resting his good leg on the edge of John’s bed, “I’d marry her in the twinkle of the eye. With her money, Ole Tim wouldn’t ever have to hit a lick at nothing. I’d just sit back, drink my mint juleps and just observe that woman from morning to night and when the ole hoot owl starts his screaching, I’d be in glory land.”
“Well, you can be in your glory land if’n you want but if’n we’re to be at Hickory tonight, I need to go get washed up.”
It wasn’t long before John returned clean-shaven, hair brushed back as well as his curls would allow and wearing the only suit he owned. As they were about to leave, Mrs. Wilson stopped him on the porch. “John Wilson, you better wait up a second and let me look you over. You got to pass my inspection before you two go gallivanting.”
Embarrassed, John replied, “Mama, we been going through this ordeal ever since I was a young ‘un. Don’t you think I’m a little too old for this?”
“Not as long as you live under my roof and have a mother that cares about you like I do. Now stand up straight,” Mrs. Wilson ordered.
With Tim snickering in the background, John stood erect and then smiled down at his mother. “May I go now?”
“Not until you give an old woman a kiss.”
John bent down, gave his mother a hug and a kiss and then bounded down the steps to where his father, who had figured they were going off for a good time, had his horse saddled and waiting. John’s father, Lott, had been among the first white men to enter what was now Newton County, and he was instrumental in the organization and settlement of the Little Rock community. Lott was noted for his honesty and hard work and his reputation was beyond reproach. With his thick curly white hair, piercing blue eyes and stocky build, his presence still demanded respect.
Handing John the reigns, Mister Wilson said, “Mother said you two was going down to Hickory to some kind of a meeting. That’s a pretty far piece. What time will you be getting home?”
“I’m not sure, Papa,” John replied.
“Mister Wilson, since our place is closer to Hickory and if’n it’s alright with you, John can spend the night with me and come on home in the morning,” Tim said.
Mister Wilson nodded. “John you get on back before too late tomorrow. We got some planning to do for next week.”
While John sat in the saddle waiting for Tim to mount, Mrs. Wilson couldn’t help but admire her son. John stood over six feet tall, broad shoulders and with a frame much like his father’s when he was a young man. His hair was soot black with a trace of premature graying across his temples. Sitting tall in the saddle, she thought, some folks say he’s the most handsome man in these parts, but I say he looks like his father and that’s good enough for me. Don’t see why some pretty little thing ain’t grabbed him, but John hasn’t been the same since he returned from the war.
At the end of the war, the Confederate officials and some of the soldiers in John’s company had thought he’d been killed in battle. Mrs. Wilson never believed them and on a cold, snowy night John had quietly rapped on the door and fell into her arms half frozen. She knew the Lord had brought John home to her. Even though he had recovered outwardly, inwardly he was not at peace. He didn’t enjoy socializing with other young people like he once did and he spent too much time to himself and with his books. Mrs. Wilson was surprised to see him ride off with Tim tonight. Even though much time had passed since the war, he still seemed to have dreams that haunted him, and he would often wake up screaming. He would hardly ever talk about it. Something terrible had happened to him up there, something John had buried deep inside himself.
John and Tim waved goodbye, and when they were out of hearing range, John exclaimed, “I heard you laughing back there on the porch. I wish she’d stop that inspection routine; it’s embarrassing.”
Tim glanced over at John. “I might have laughed a little, but I’d give anything in the world if’n my mother would ever tell me she cares for me. Seeing the way you two feel about each other made me sort of jealous.”
“Tim, your mother loves you just like mine does. I can tell by the way she looks at you. She just doesn’t know how to show her feelings. Some folks are just like that.”
As the two continued their way, John had no idea of the movement that was well underway throughout the South and certainly had no idea of what lay in store for him. The events that followed the meeting at Hickory Station would forever change the structure of politics in Newton County. The lives that would be shattered were never envisioned by John Wilson on that hot August afternoon.
3
THE MEETINGS
Western Pennsylvania
The rushing water rippled over the stones and bubbled toward a large pool forming in the bend of the stream. The limbs of a large willow tree sloshed up and down as the current rhythmically nudged them. Even though the sun had been up for over two hours, a haze of misty fog hovered in the heights of the nearby hills. It was a beautiful morning.
Downstream where the water rushed from the pool and across another shallow run, a short, stout man with bare feet and trouser legs rolled up, gently reeled in his fishing line a soft tug at a time. After retrieving it, he pulled the brim of his hat down on his forehead keeping the glaring sun out of his eyes, then adjusted his glasses and made another cast out into the rapids.
Knee-deep in the stream, the man chewing a large wad of tobacco mumbled to himself, “You’re