Beneath the Mockingbird's Wings (Spirit of Appalachia Book #4)

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Prologue

Late October 1781

Moving around the table and replenishing the food as it was consumed, Hulda was conscious, as always, of the antagonism that existed at the dining table of Havenwood Plantation. Meals were not pleasant occasions, for the most part, and as Hulda set a plate of ham down in front of Noah Carter, she scanned his face guardedly. Mr. Carter, he looks old. . . . She knew for a fact that he was sixty-nine and was not in good health. A wave of sadness swept over Hulda as she studied his lined face. He had been a good master to her, as he had been to all his slaves. Now as he sat at the table, still tall but stooped with age, she had a sad premonition that he would not be long on this earth. She stepped over beside Naomi Carter, Noah’s wife, and knew that the mistress of Havenwood was also well aware that her husband’s place at the end of the table would soon be empty.

Hulda lifted her eyes, and her lips drew tight as she looked across the table at Naaman Carter and his wife, Julia Mayhew Carter. Naaman, at the age of forty-one, was the younger of Noah and Naomi’s two sons. Naaman and Julia were the parents of Linus and Lydia, and of the four, Hulda had warm affections only for Lydia. The old servant woman had worried about Naaman, even when he was a small boy. He had been greatly spoiled by his mother and had grown up into a selfish man. He was fine looking, slim and nearly six feet tall with auburn hair and green eyes, but his good looks meant nothing to the slaves who had often tasted his harshness with the whip. His wife, Julia, had come from a wealthy family and, like her husband, cared only for her own comfort. Their son Linus was much like them, and only in Lydia did Hulda see traces of the goodness of the older Carters.

Hulda moved along filling the tea glasses and listening as the conversation went around the table. The Carters were her family, and she was jealous of anyone who threatened them.

Where are the children? Naomi spoke of her three grandchildren, Nathanael, Linus, and Lydia.

They ate earlier. They are outside playing now, Julia answered her mother-in-law’s query.

Well, I’m glad the war seems to be finally over, Noah said. His faded eyes grew bright for a moment, and he said, It has been a long, hard struggle for freedom.

Naaman glanced at his father and shook his head with a stubborn motion. It’s only a matter of time until this new government collapses, Father.

That’s true, Julia said quickly. "You’ll see the day that the Colonies will beg England to take them back under her banner."

It was Naomi, not Noah, who answered these comments. She was always defensive of her husband and regretted that Naaman and his wife were so strongly opposed to the Revolution. She and Noah had both been proud of their older son, Titus, who had enlisted at the beginning of the struggle for freedom from the British crown. They had also come to approve of Titus’s marriage to a full-blooded Cherokee woman, Awinita, and both of them loved their grandson Nathanael, perhaps more than they loved their other grandchildren.

This is going to be a free country! Naomi said sternly. We’re not going to be under the heels of the British anymore.

Awinita, who was sitting next to her mother-in-law, smiled and put her hand on the older woman’s arm. And Titus will be coming home soon. She was a proud woman with a striking appearance. Her complexion was much fairer than most other Cherokee women, and her features were finely and beautifully formed. Her eyes were soft, a golden brown, and her hair a glossy ebony.

Yes, daughter, I’m looking forward to that day, Noah said heartily.

Hulda, replenishing the tea in Awinita’s glass, caught a glimpse of Naaman’s and Julia’s faces. They won’t be glad—not them two! They’s for that ol’ king and always was!

An awkward silence fell over the table, and a tall black man appeared at the dining room door, saying, They’s a gentleman to see you, Mr. Noah.

A gentleman! Who is it, Holder?

I don’t know, sah. He be a soldier.

Maybe it’s news about Titus, Awinita sighed.

Show him in at once, Noah said, and every eye turned to the door.

The soldier who entered was a slight man of some fifty years. He stopped abruptly, glancing nervously around the table. My name is Lieutenant Johnston, he said. I’m looking for Mr. Noah Carter.

I’m Noah Carter. What can I do for you, Lieutenant Johnston?

The soldier licked his lips nervously. I-I’d rather have a meeting with you in private.

Instantly everyone in the room knew something was wrong. Hulda looked around the table and saw fear in the faces of Titus’s parents.

What does it concern, Lieutenant? Naomi Carter asked quietly.

Lieutenant Johnston hesitated. I . . . I have very bad news, he said.

Awinita said quietly, Is it about my husband, Titus Carter?

Lieutenant Johnston turned to face her. He hesitated again, then shrugged his shoulders. I’m sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news, but I must tell you, Mrs. Carter . . . that your husband was killed at Yorktown—just before the British surrendered.

A single cry escaped Naomi’s lips, and she reached out and took her husband’s hand. Noah stared at the officer, devastated. Not only was his son dead, but he had planned on having Titus take over the plantation—and now that could not be.

Come in and tell us all you can, Lieutenant, Noah said.

Lieutenant Johnston hated this duty but knew that it must be done. He took a seat and awkwardly related what he knew about the death of the man who had filled the lives of these people. When he was through, he took his leave awkwardly, making his apologies. As he left the room, he turned once quickly, saying, I’m very sorry, then left without another word.

Noah had scarcely moved during the officer’s recitation, and now he said, Hulda, the children are playing outside. Go bring Nathanael in. Don’t tell him about any of this.

Yes, sah, Hulda said and left the room.

Julia, you come with me, Naaman said quickly. Send the children upstairs. We’ll tell them the news. Turning to his parents, he said, I know you’ll want to talk to Nathanael alone.

I think that . . . that would be best, Naaman, Naomi said as the tears coursed down her cheeks.

As Naaman and Julia left the room, Julia whispered, Why did you want to get away, Naaman?

I won’t stay and pretend to mourn a brother I hate. You hate him, too.

But you can’t say things like that! Julia protested. We’ll show the proper amount of mourning, but this place will be ours now, Naaman.

No, it won’t.

But you’re Noah’s only living son!

You’re forgetting the settlement.

Julia’s hope to inherit Havenwood quickly faded, and now a scowl replaced her smile. But things are—well, they’re different now!

The settlement Naaman referred to had taken place a few years earlier. Naaman hated the life of a planter. He longed to move to Williamsburg and go into business. He had finally persuaded his father to split the estate, give the land and the house to Titus and the equivalent value in cash to him. Noah had opposed it but in the end had given in.

However, Naaman’s business ventures had not worked out well for him. He had speculated in risky enterprises, and most of the money he’d received was now gone. The humiliation of those losses had caused anger and bitterness to grow in Naaman and his wife, and now they both felt they deserved a share of Havenwood. This envy had festered in them, and they had developed a vitriolic hatred for Titus—and for his Cherokee wife and son.

Julia’s eyes narrowed. "Can’t we do something?"

I’ve got a plan, Naaman said. If it works, we’ll send that Indian woman and her son back to where they belong—if they don’t meet some tragedy before then.

Julia cast a quick glance at her husband’s face. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she did know that he hated his brother and his sister-in-law and his nephew with every fiber of his being. She herself did not feel so strongly, but the idea of being in control of Havenwood pleased her immensely. We’ll have to show proper respect, she whispered.

For a while, Naaman said grimly, and the two went up the stairs.

****

Look! There’s something at the edge of the woods! said Nathanael Carter, a lean boy of eleven with a coppery complexion. He turned to his two cousins, his eyes gleaming. I think it’s a fox! His coal black hair caught the light of the late October sun, and his deep-set brown eyes twinkled with pleasure.

I don’t see anything, Nate, said Linus, a short, stocky boy the same age as Nathanael.

Neither do I. You’re always seeing things, six-year-old Lydia said.

The three cousins were so different that it was often impossible for them to spend time together, but on Havenwood Plantation there were no other children for them to play with, so they were forced into one another’s company.

Come on. I’m going to see what it is. Nathanael sprinted for the woods that bordered Havenwood on the west. It was a favorite place for the young boy.

Come on, Linus! Lydia cried. She started after her cousin, and Linus followed reluctantly. By the time the two reached the edge of the woods, Nathanael was standing very still looking down at what was lying in a tuft of field grass.

What is it, Nate? Lydia cried.

Nathanael did not move his head. Look, he said simply and pointed.

Lydia moved in closer and then her eyes flew open. Why, it’s a baby fox!

Yes. And he’s hurt.

What’s wrong with him? Linus asked, crowding in to stare at the small animal.

I don’t know. Nathanael bent closer and studied the sharp-featured face of the tiny animal. He himself had been named Fox by his Cherokee mother, Awinita. The first time she had held her newborn son, she had seen something in the infant’s face that reminded her of an alert young fox. Now leaning forward, Nathanael murmured, He’s too young to be out by himself. I wonder where his mother is.

Lydia, who loved small animals, said in a worried tone, Do you think he’ll live?

Don’t know. Young animals and birds don’t usually make it.

Linus Carter, who usually took the opposite opinion of his cousin Nathanael, said abruptly, Let’s kill it!

Kill it! Nathanael whirled around, his eyes glowing with anger. "What do you mean kill it?"

Linus puffed his lips out, glad at having made his cousin angry. He was often bested by Nathanael at physical games, for he himself was overweight and not good at such things. I say let’s kill it. It’ll only grow up to be a killer. That’s all foxes do—kill things. He laughed suddenly and pointed at his cousin. He’s a savage—just like everything named Fox.

The bronzed features of Nathanael seemed to grow even darker. A flush came up into his cheeks, and he stepped forward, crying out, You take that back, Linus!

Won’t!

You better or I’ll bash you!

You better not! Grandfather Noah will cane you for it!

You take back what you said about me! I’m not a savage!

Lydia cried out, Take it back, Linus! You didn’t mean it.

I did, too! He’s just a savage. That’s all Indians are—savages!

Without another word Nathanael threw himself forward and bowled Linus over in the dust at the edge of the field. Linus yelled and screamed, but Nathanael maintained a silence as he pummeled his cousin.

Lydia began to cry and ran over to pull at them helplessly. Stop it! she said. You know you’re not supposed to fight!

Her words had no effect on Nathanael. Indeed, he was acting more like a wolf than a fox as he mauled his cousin. Only vaguely did he hear an adult voice calling him, and not until a hand seized his arm and jerked him off did he stop hitting Linus. The anger that had rushed through him was one he rarely felt, but being called a savage and having his Cherokee ancestry made fun of had infuriated him. He knew some sort of punishment would be forthcoming, but he did not care. He turned to face the black woman Hulda, the house servant, who was holding his arm.

Nathanael stepped back from Linus, who was sprawled on the ground, and looked up at Hulda.

What you two fighting about? she demanded to know.

Nothing, the boy said.

Hulda knew that hot pinchers would not pull it out of him, and a great sorrow filled her heart as she said, Come inside now. Your grandpa and your grandma, they wanna see you.

I’m going to tell Grandpa what he did. He’s nothin’ but a savage! Linus cried as he got up.

You hush your mouth, Linus, and don’t say nothin’. You and Lydia go on up to your parents’ room. They wanna talk to you, too.

All three children were mystified. Nathanael assumed it was something to do with the fight—that they had been seen from the window. And he knew he was probably in for a good caning, but he said nothing. As they crossed the field, he saw a uniformed man riding away, and for a moment Nathanael thought, It’s my father! But he saw at once that it was not.

As they walked toward the house, Nathanael kept glancing at Hulda’s face, which was filled with sadness. She was usually a cheerful woman, and he could not understand why she looked as though she could burst into tears.

When Nathanael entered the house, he went straightaway to the parlor, where his grandparents were waiting for him. As soon as he stepped inside, he could tell that something was terribly wrong.

It was just a little scuffle, Grandfather, he said quickly. I didn’t really hurt Linus.

It’s not about that, Noah said slowly. Come here, Nathanael.

Nathanael felt a shiver run up his spine, and as he went up to stand before his grandparents, he saw his mother sitting in a chair beside them.

Tears were running down her face. He had never seen his mother cry, and suddenly a great fear seized him. He ran to her at once, saying, What is it, Mother? What’s wrong?