A Land Remembered, Volume 2, page 3
The barrel of Frog’s rifle became too hot to touch as he loaded and fired again and again, covering the ground with empty shells. He was not even aware of Skillit beside him, also firing rapidly at any sign of life across the open space.
None of them knew the exact moment the opposite firing stopped as they kept pouring lead into bushes and trees; then one by one they lowered their rifles and listened, hearing no sound except their own heavy breathing.
Tobias ventured out first, going to the wagon and squatting behind it; then Zech walked to Ishmael and knelt beside him, his face white, shaking the body as if to awaken it. Frog jumped on his horse and charged across the open area, Tobias shouting, “No, Frog! No! Don’t go in there yet!”
Frog paid no attention as he galloped full speed into the woods and disappeared.
Emma rushed to Glenda, having seen her go down with the horse, finding her lying in the bushes, clutching her stomach and moaning.
“Glenda? Are you all right?”
Glenda’s face twisted with pain as she said, “It hurts, Emma. It hurts real bad. I think I’m losing the baby.”
They heard Emma’s voice, “Zech! Come here! Get your tent and put it up here! Hurry!”
“They killed Ishmael,” Zech said absently, still shocked.
“Forget the horse!” Emma snapped sharply. “Glenda’s hurt! There’s no time left! Move quickly!”
“What’s the matter with her?” Zech asked.
“Stop asking questions and move!” Emma insisted. “Just do what I tell you! I’ll explain later!”
As soon as the tent was up, Emma and Pearlie Mae moved Glenda inside. Zech hovered outside, forgetting the dead horse as concern for Glenda pushed all else from his mind. He paced back and forth.
“She lost the baby.”
“Baby? Glenda was going to have a baby? I didn’t know, Mamma! Why didn’t she tell me? I wouldn’t have let her come if I’d known!”
“Now don’t you start that!” Emma said harshly. “I don’t want to hear a word of it! She told me, and I promised not to tell you for the very reason you just said! She kept it a secret because she wanted to come along and be with you and with all of us! She loves you that much! Can’t you understand this?”
“I wish she had told me.”
“She’s the bravest girl I’ve ever known, and you ought to be proud of her. Now you go on in there, and don’t you say one word to make her feel worse than she feels now! Do you understand me, Zech? This is not her fault! She didn’t shoot that horse out from under herself!”
Emma put her arms around him and stopped him for a moment. “Oh, Zech. I’m so sorry this happened to you and Glenda. Just don’t blame her. It wasn’t her fault.”
His face was sad as he pulled away. “I’m not blaming Glenda anymore, and I know whose fault it is.”
***
The baby’s grave was tiny, the other huge. Zech insisted they bury Ishmael too. Crosses made of hickory limbs were at the head of each mound.
All of the men were soaked with sweat from digging, their shirts dust-covered and clinging to their bodies. Zech held Glenda up, his arm tightly around her, bringing her from the tent although Emma advised against it. Tobias turned to Zech and said, “You want me to say words, or you want to do it yourself?”
“I’ll do it myself. It’s my baby.”
Zech took off the black felt hat and pressed it to his chest. Then the others did likewise. He said, “Lord . . . bless this little baby. Make her to be a fine woman . . . like Mamma and Glenda. Amen.”
Then he led Glenda back to the tent and went inside with her.
***
At Emma’s insistence they camped for two more days, letting Glenda rest and regain strength. Zech roamed the woods, finding wildflowers and putting them on the grave each day. On the third morning they put Glenda into the covered wagon, Emma riding with her and Zech driving. Tobias rode with Skillit and his family on the buckboard.
Zech glanced at the graves one final time; then he popped his whip and moved the oxen forward.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
September passed into October as the men made trip after trip into Fort Pierce, buying and stockpiling barrels to be used when the oranges matured later that year. February’s blossoms turned into green globes that grew larger each week and would cover the trees with balls of gold.
Glenda recovered fully, and the nightmare was gradually overshadowed by the everyday routine of living, not forgotten but looked upon as one more tragedy endured.
It was the end of October when Zech set out alone for the cypress swamp to purchase a marshtackie for Glenda and another to replace Ishmael. This would be no fun trip, camping often and shooting game along the way. His saddlebag contained smoked beef and biscuits, and he cantered the horse more than he walked it. He was expected back as soon as possible to help with the orange harvest.
As he rounded the eastern shore of Okeechobee and turned southwest, something came back to him that had been pushed far back in his memory, Tawanda. During those years Glenda remained in school in Jacksonville, and he knew he would eventually marry her, he gradually forgot Tawanda, thinking he would never see her again, or even visit the Indian village.
He wondered if she were still there, if she had married and had children. She was only a memory from the past, and he was not sure he could even recognize her.
He skirted the eastern edge of the custard-apple forest and entered the swamp, searching for something familiar, some landmark that would jar his memory and point the way, but he found none. It had been too long, and now all trees looked the same, all ponds and sloughs the same, all trails the same.
For two days he wandered, becoming more discouraged as he zigzagged from east to west and moved southward, going deeper into a forest that seemed even more awesome than he remembered, sometimes plodding the horse through shallow coverings of water that lasted for miles before finding firm ground. He was considering giving up the quest when he was confronted by an Indian armed with a rifle.
Zech was startled when the man stepped from behind a palmetto directly in front of him, blocking the way. His eyes were angry, and they both stared silently until Zech said, “I’m looking for the village of Keith Tiger. I’ve been there but I’m lost now. Can you give me directions?”
The Indian made no answer except to motion with the rifle for Zech to follow him. One hour later they entered a clearing dotted with chickees.
Other than two old women in the cooking chickee, the village seemed deserted. As Zech dismounted, his guide pointed with the rifle but still did not speak. This puzzled Zech, for the reception his father received from the Seminoles had been friendly, so different from this.
He tied the horse to a bush and walked to the edge of the clearing, finding two old men sitting beneath one of the chickees. Again he searched his memory for recognition but found none; then he said, “I’m looking for Keith Tiger. I have business with him.”
One of the men said, “I am Keith Tiger. What is your business?”
“You don’t remember me, but my name is Zech MacIvey, son of Tobias MacIvey. I was here once with my father.”
The old man smiled, Zech’s first sign of welcome, making him feel more at ease. “It is good to see you, Zech MacIvey, and you are welcome. You have grown so much I did not know you. When you were here before you were a boy, and now you return as a man. How is Tobias?”
“He’s doing pretty good at times, but he still has spells of malaria. He’s not as strong as he used to be.”
“None of us are as we grow older. It is a pity of time passing. But I worried about Tobias when he left here so sick. It is good to know he survived. What brings you on such a long journey to find me?”
“I want to buy horses,” Zech responded, sitting in front of Keith Tiger. “Two marshtackies, like the one you gave us a long time ago. I didn’t know anywhere else to get them but from you.”
“They are yours for the asking, but I will accept no pay. We still owe you for the cows you gave us. I will have the horses brought here in the morning. They are at a place deeper in the swamp. We do not keep our horses and cows here in the village where they might be seen.”
“Tomorrow is fine, but I’ll be glad to pay.”
“You have paid already for much more than two horses. Your father is a friend we will never forget. And do not be troubled by your reception here. No one knew who you were, and there has been much trouble lately between our people and some bad white men in the Ten Thousand Islands. It will be different when you are known as a MacIvey. Our people will come back into the village soon and I will tell them. Are you hungry?”
“Yes, I am,” Zech admitted. “I was in a hurry to get here and didn’t cook along the way.”
“Then you must eat now. Come with me and I will get food for you.”
Zech followed the old man to the cooking chickee were he was ladled a large wooden bowl of turtle stew and given a chunk of koonti bread. He sat on the ground outside the hut and ate as Keith Tiger returned to the chickee. He thought of asking about Tawanda but decided against it, thinking she no longer lived in the village and was elsewhere with a family of her own. It disappointed him that he would not see her even briefly or at least know what happened to her.
After eating he unsaddled the horse and then returned to the chickee, finding Keith Tiger asleep. He didn’t want to disturb the old man so he went back to his horse, mounted and rode bareback into the woods, following a trail to the south. He would like to see Pay-Hay-Okee again but knew it was too far a journey for an afternoon; and even if there were time, he was unsure of the way.
He walked the horse slowly, killing time, feeling uncomfortable alone in the village without even the old man to talk to. He wished the hours would pass quickly so he could take the horses and leave.
The voice came from behind him as the trail turned to the left. “It is you, isn’t it, Zech?”
He stopped the horse immediately and looked back, seeing her standing there, the same brown skin and deep-set eyes, the flowing black hair.
She said, “I watched you as you came into the village. Can I ride with you?”
He reached down, took her hand and pulled her up behind him. “Why didn’t you come forward and speak? I thought you didn’t live here anymore.”
“I was too surprised. I didn’t think I would ever see you again, and there you were. Why did you wait so long to come back? I watched the trail each week until I finally gave up.”
“I wanted to come back, but too many things happened with my family. I thought of you a lot.”
“I thought of you too. All the time at first, and then I tried to forget. But I couldn’t. I’m glad you’re here now.”
“There’s something I must tell you, Tawanda,” Zech said. “I’m married now.”
The words did not shock her or anger her. She said, “It doesn’t matter. Is she pretty?”
“Yes, her name is Glenda.”
“You have not told me why you’re here.”
“To buy horses. I want marshtackies, and I can’t find them anywhere else. I have to start back in the morning and help Pappa harvest his oranges.”
His other world seemed far away.
***
Then they rode into the village together.
The marshtackies were waiting, and after a final farewell he tied them behind his horse. He put a loaf of koonti bread Tawanda prepared for him into the saddlebag, then rode away quickly, not looking back.
As he approached his home in the hammock, he looked back at the marshtackies, the reason for his trip, trying to decide which he should keep for himself and which would be Glenda’s. Keith Tiger had selected a stallion and a mare, telling him that marshtackies were becoming rare and would someday soon die out and vanish forever, that if he wanted more he should raise his own from this pair.
He would take the stallion and give Glenda the mare, for the mare would be more loving and gentle. He was sure Glenda would approve of his decision and be happy with the mare, for she wouldn’t know how to handle a stallion as well as he.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
1883
Solomon MacIvey was born March 12, 1883.
They chose the name Solomon because Zech had been reading the Bible and discovered that Solomon, son of David and king of Israel and Judah, was noted for his wisdom. Sol, as they would call him, would be a very wise man indeed, since he would be the first MacIvey to have his own private tutor from birth. Glenda would give him knowledge beyond all things Zech and his father could ever know, and he would be the one to build a MacIvey temple rather than a frontier house made of rough cypress long since turned black by exposure to the weather.
When it came time in April to move the herd for grazing, Emma and Pearlie Mae both refused to go, telling the men to look out for themselves while they stayed behind to look after Glenda and the baby. He didn’t like it, but Skillit was elected cook by a vote of three to one.
Zech didn’t want to leave home, fearing that in his brief absence the baby would grow up and not know him as the father. He was puffed with pride but would not hold the baby, convinced that such a small and delicate thing would surely break in his rough hands. He cautioned Glenda and his mother to be very careful with Sol, causing them to smile knowingly and assure him they would do their best while he was gone.
Tobias decided not to move the herd too far from the hammock and to send a rider back every two days to make sure the women were fine. They moved south, heading for the lower Kissimmee valley where the marsh and prairie grass should be plentiful.
It was mid-week of the second week when six riders came out of the southwest and approached Skillit on his right. One said briefly, “Who owns these cows?”
“Mistuh MacIvey,” Skillit answered, pointing. “That’s him over there, just behind the herd.”
Zech noticed the riders and came over to see what they wanted. One said to Tobias, “Where you taking this herd?”
“Nowhere in particular,” Tobias responded. “Just grazing wherever they want to go. We do it ever summer.”
“Well, you can’t go any further in this direction.”
“How come?” Tobias asked, thinking it was another situation like the one they encountered at the salt marsh. “I don’t see any more cows anywhere. “
“This is private land, all the way from here down to Lake Okeechobee. You’re trespassing right now.”
“Private land? How come all of a sudden it’s private land? It’s always been open range.”
“Not any more. This is Disston land. Mister Disston bought four million acres here.”
“How many?” Tobias questioned, baffled by the figure.
“You deef? I said four million. Bought it from the state for a million dollars. Mister Disston has done run all the squatters off, and he’s got plans to drain all this land and develop it. He’s already got dredges working. He don’t want nobody driving cows in here, and that includes you. “
“What if I want to drive a herd through here to Punta Rassa? What could I do if he closes the land?”
“I don’t care what you do. You can take them cows slam around the south end of Okeechobee or you can go back north and find another way. But you’re not going through here.”
“What if I do it anyway?” Tobias shot back, his anger beginning to boil.
“I got a hundred and fifty men working on this place, and all of them are armed. We’ll shoot ever cow that enters. Now if you want to convert them cows to carcasses, you just go ahead and push ’em in the direction you’re going. That’s all I got to say.”
With that the men rode off a hundred yards and stopped, forming a line facing the herd, rifles drawn.
Tobias said to Zech, “Go tell Frog and Skillit to turn ’em. We can’t fight a hundred and fifty men. We’ll go back north and then cut to the west, toward the salt marsh. But ain’t nobody got the right to close off the land!”
“Pappa, this is just the beginning,” Zech said. “Someday there won’t be any open range left. Last time I was over at Fort Drum and talked to Mister Turner he said men are out everwhere now, surveying land for new railroads, and the railroad companies are buying everything they can get. The lumber companies and turpentine men are doing it too. Someday it’s coming to an end, Pappa, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“You’re wrong!” Tobias responded. “It ain’t coming to an end, and it never will. But if this keeps up, we’ll just put in more orange trees and run less cows. Prices keep going up like they been doing we ought to be able to clear a thousand dollars a acre on oranges.”
“Maybe so, Pappa. But if we stay in the cattle business we’re going to have to own the land and fence it too.”
“Fence it? That’s the best way I know to start a range war. I know what I’d do if I came to a fence. I’d cut it.”
“And maybe get yourself killed for doing it.”
“Whose side are you on? You sound more like a landlord than a cattleman.”
“I’m not talking sides, Pappa. I’ll always be with you, and you know it. What I’m talking is sense.”
“We’ll see,” Tobias said. “Go on now and help Frog and Skillit turn the cows. We’ll find grass elsewhere. There just ain’t no way we can face a hundred and fifty men.”
As Zech rode off he thought about the land he had already bought and the deed lying in a drawer in his cabin, MacIvey land that would never be closed to them. He must plan soon to convert more of the gold doubloons into land.
None of them knew the exact moment the opposite firing stopped as they kept pouring lead into bushes and trees; then one by one they lowered their rifles and listened, hearing no sound except their own heavy breathing.
Tobias ventured out first, going to the wagon and squatting behind it; then Zech walked to Ishmael and knelt beside him, his face white, shaking the body as if to awaken it. Frog jumped on his horse and charged across the open area, Tobias shouting, “No, Frog! No! Don’t go in there yet!”
Frog paid no attention as he galloped full speed into the woods and disappeared.
Emma rushed to Glenda, having seen her go down with the horse, finding her lying in the bushes, clutching her stomach and moaning.
“Glenda? Are you all right?”
Glenda’s face twisted with pain as she said, “It hurts, Emma. It hurts real bad. I think I’m losing the baby.”
They heard Emma’s voice, “Zech! Come here! Get your tent and put it up here! Hurry!”
“They killed Ishmael,” Zech said absently, still shocked.
“Forget the horse!” Emma snapped sharply. “Glenda’s hurt! There’s no time left! Move quickly!”
“What’s the matter with her?” Zech asked.
“Stop asking questions and move!” Emma insisted. “Just do what I tell you! I’ll explain later!”
As soon as the tent was up, Emma and Pearlie Mae moved Glenda inside. Zech hovered outside, forgetting the dead horse as concern for Glenda pushed all else from his mind. He paced back and forth.
“She lost the baby.”
“Baby? Glenda was going to have a baby? I didn’t know, Mamma! Why didn’t she tell me? I wouldn’t have let her come if I’d known!”
“Now don’t you start that!” Emma said harshly. “I don’t want to hear a word of it! She told me, and I promised not to tell you for the very reason you just said! She kept it a secret because she wanted to come along and be with you and with all of us! She loves you that much! Can’t you understand this?”
“I wish she had told me.”
“She’s the bravest girl I’ve ever known, and you ought to be proud of her. Now you go on in there, and don’t you say one word to make her feel worse than she feels now! Do you understand me, Zech? This is not her fault! She didn’t shoot that horse out from under herself!”
Emma put her arms around him and stopped him for a moment. “Oh, Zech. I’m so sorry this happened to you and Glenda. Just don’t blame her. It wasn’t her fault.”
His face was sad as he pulled away. “I’m not blaming Glenda anymore, and I know whose fault it is.”
***
The baby’s grave was tiny, the other huge. Zech insisted they bury Ishmael too. Crosses made of hickory limbs were at the head of each mound.
All of the men were soaked with sweat from digging, their shirts dust-covered and clinging to their bodies. Zech held Glenda up, his arm tightly around her, bringing her from the tent although Emma advised against it. Tobias turned to Zech and said, “You want me to say words, or you want to do it yourself?”
“I’ll do it myself. It’s my baby.”
Zech took off the black felt hat and pressed it to his chest. Then the others did likewise. He said, “Lord . . . bless this little baby. Make her to be a fine woman . . . like Mamma and Glenda. Amen.”
Then he led Glenda back to the tent and went inside with her.
***
At Emma’s insistence they camped for two more days, letting Glenda rest and regain strength. Zech roamed the woods, finding wildflowers and putting them on the grave each day. On the third morning they put Glenda into the covered wagon, Emma riding with her and Zech driving. Tobias rode with Skillit and his family on the buckboard.
Zech glanced at the graves one final time; then he popped his whip and moved the oxen forward.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
September passed into October as the men made trip after trip into Fort Pierce, buying and stockpiling barrels to be used when the oranges matured later that year. February’s blossoms turned into green globes that grew larger each week and would cover the trees with balls of gold.
Glenda recovered fully, and the nightmare was gradually overshadowed by the everyday routine of living, not forgotten but looked upon as one more tragedy endured.
It was the end of October when Zech set out alone for the cypress swamp to purchase a marshtackie for Glenda and another to replace Ishmael. This would be no fun trip, camping often and shooting game along the way. His saddlebag contained smoked beef and biscuits, and he cantered the horse more than he walked it. He was expected back as soon as possible to help with the orange harvest.
As he rounded the eastern shore of Okeechobee and turned southwest, something came back to him that had been pushed far back in his memory, Tawanda. During those years Glenda remained in school in Jacksonville, and he knew he would eventually marry her, he gradually forgot Tawanda, thinking he would never see her again, or even visit the Indian village.
He wondered if she were still there, if she had married and had children. She was only a memory from the past, and he was not sure he could even recognize her.
He skirted the eastern edge of the custard-apple forest and entered the swamp, searching for something familiar, some landmark that would jar his memory and point the way, but he found none. It had been too long, and now all trees looked the same, all ponds and sloughs the same, all trails the same.
For two days he wandered, becoming more discouraged as he zigzagged from east to west and moved southward, going deeper into a forest that seemed even more awesome than he remembered, sometimes plodding the horse through shallow coverings of water that lasted for miles before finding firm ground. He was considering giving up the quest when he was confronted by an Indian armed with a rifle.
Zech was startled when the man stepped from behind a palmetto directly in front of him, blocking the way. His eyes were angry, and they both stared silently until Zech said, “I’m looking for the village of Keith Tiger. I’ve been there but I’m lost now. Can you give me directions?”
The Indian made no answer except to motion with the rifle for Zech to follow him. One hour later they entered a clearing dotted with chickees.
Other than two old women in the cooking chickee, the village seemed deserted. As Zech dismounted, his guide pointed with the rifle but still did not speak. This puzzled Zech, for the reception his father received from the Seminoles had been friendly, so different from this.
He tied the horse to a bush and walked to the edge of the clearing, finding two old men sitting beneath one of the chickees. Again he searched his memory for recognition but found none; then he said, “I’m looking for Keith Tiger. I have business with him.”
One of the men said, “I am Keith Tiger. What is your business?”
“You don’t remember me, but my name is Zech MacIvey, son of Tobias MacIvey. I was here once with my father.”
The old man smiled, Zech’s first sign of welcome, making him feel more at ease. “It is good to see you, Zech MacIvey, and you are welcome. You have grown so much I did not know you. When you were here before you were a boy, and now you return as a man. How is Tobias?”
“He’s doing pretty good at times, but he still has spells of malaria. He’s not as strong as he used to be.”
“None of us are as we grow older. It is a pity of time passing. But I worried about Tobias when he left here so sick. It is good to know he survived. What brings you on such a long journey to find me?”
“I want to buy horses,” Zech responded, sitting in front of Keith Tiger. “Two marshtackies, like the one you gave us a long time ago. I didn’t know anywhere else to get them but from you.”
“They are yours for the asking, but I will accept no pay. We still owe you for the cows you gave us. I will have the horses brought here in the morning. They are at a place deeper in the swamp. We do not keep our horses and cows here in the village where they might be seen.”
“Tomorrow is fine, but I’ll be glad to pay.”
“You have paid already for much more than two horses. Your father is a friend we will never forget. And do not be troubled by your reception here. No one knew who you were, and there has been much trouble lately between our people and some bad white men in the Ten Thousand Islands. It will be different when you are known as a MacIvey. Our people will come back into the village soon and I will tell them. Are you hungry?”
“Yes, I am,” Zech admitted. “I was in a hurry to get here and didn’t cook along the way.”
“Then you must eat now. Come with me and I will get food for you.”
Zech followed the old man to the cooking chickee were he was ladled a large wooden bowl of turtle stew and given a chunk of koonti bread. He sat on the ground outside the hut and ate as Keith Tiger returned to the chickee. He thought of asking about Tawanda but decided against it, thinking she no longer lived in the village and was elsewhere with a family of her own. It disappointed him that he would not see her even briefly or at least know what happened to her.
After eating he unsaddled the horse and then returned to the chickee, finding Keith Tiger asleep. He didn’t want to disturb the old man so he went back to his horse, mounted and rode bareback into the woods, following a trail to the south. He would like to see Pay-Hay-Okee again but knew it was too far a journey for an afternoon; and even if there were time, he was unsure of the way.
He walked the horse slowly, killing time, feeling uncomfortable alone in the village without even the old man to talk to. He wished the hours would pass quickly so he could take the horses and leave.
The voice came from behind him as the trail turned to the left. “It is you, isn’t it, Zech?”
He stopped the horse immediately and looked back, seeing her standing there, the same brown skin and deep-set eyes, the flowing black hair.
She said, “I watched you as you came into the village. Can I ride with you?”
He reached down, took her hand and pulled her up behind him. “Why didn’t you come forward and speak? I thought you didn’t live here anymore.”
“I was too surprised. I didn’t think I would ever see you again, and there you were. Why did you wait so long to come back? I watched the trail each week until I finally gave up.”
“I wanted to come back, but too many things happened with my family. I thought of you a lot.”
“I thought of you too. All the time at first, and then I tried to forget. But I couldn’t. I’m glad you’re here now.”
“There’s something I must tell you, Tawanda,” Zech said. “I’m married now.”
The words did not shock her or anger her. She said, “It doesn’t matter. Is she pretty?”
“Yes, her name is Glenda.”
“You have not told me why you’re here.”
“To buy horses. I want marshtackies, and I can’t find them anywhere else. I have to start back in the morning and help Pappa harvest his oranges.”
His other world seemed far away.
***
Then they rode into the village together.
The marshtackies were waiting, and after a final farewell he tied them behind his horse. He put a loaf of koonti bread Tawanda prepared for him into the saddlebag, then rode away quickly, not looking back.
As he approached his home in the hammock, he looked back at the marshtackies, the reason for his trip, trying to decide which he should keep for himself and which would be Glenda’s. Keith Tiger had selected a stallion and a mare, telling him that marshtackies were becoming rare and would someday soon die out and vanish forever, that if he wanted more he should raise his own from this pair.
He would take the stallion and give Glenda the mare, for the mare would be more loving and gentle. He was sure Glenda would approve of his decision and be happy with the mare, for she wouldn’t know how to handle a stallion as well as he.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
1883
Solomon MacIvey was born March 12, 1883.
They chose the name Solomon because Zech had been reading the Bible and discovered that Solomon, son of David and king of Israel and Judah, was noted for his wisdom. Sol, as they would call him, would be a very wise man indeed, since he would be the first MacIvey to have his own private tutor from birth. Glenda would give him knowledge beyond all things Zech and his father could ever know, and he would be the one to build a MacIvey temple rather than a frontier house made of rough cypress long since turned black by exposure to the weather.
When it came time in April to move the herd for grazing, Emma and Pearlie Mae both refused to go, telling the men to look out for themselves while they stayed behind to look after Glenda and the baby. He didn’t like it, but Skillit was elected cook by a vote of three to one.
Zech didn’t want to leave home, fearing that in his brief absence the baby would grow up and not know him as the father. He was puffed with pride but would not hold the baby, convinced that such a small and delicate thing would surely break in his rough hands. He cautioned Glenda and his mother to be very careful with Sol, causing them to smile knowingly and assure him they would do their best while he was gone.
Tobias decided not to move the herd too far from the hammock and to send a rider back every two days to make sure the women were fine. They moved south, heading for the lower Kissimmee valley where the marsh and prairie grass should be plentiful.
It was mid-week of the second week when six riders came out of the southwest and approached Skillit on his right. One said briefly, “Who owns these cows?”
“Mistuh MacIvey,” Skillit answered, pointing. “That’s him over there, just behind the herd.”
Zech noticed the riders and came over to see what they wanted. One said to Tobias, “Where you taking this herd?”
“Nowhere in particular,” Tobias responded. “Just grazing wherever they want to go. We do it ever summer.”
“Well, you can’t go any further in this direction.”
“How come?” Tobias asked, thinking it was another situation like the one they encountered at the salt marsh. “I don’t see any more cows anywhere. “
“This is private land, all the way from here down to Lake Okeechobee. You’re trespassing right now.”
“Private land? How come all of a sudden it’s private land? It’s always been open range.”
“Not any more. This is Disston land. Mister Disston bought four million acres here.”
“How many?” Tobias questioned, baffled by the figure.
“You deef? I said four million. Bought it from the state for a million dollars. Mister Disston has done run all the squatters off, and he’s got plans to drain all this land and develop it. He’s already got dredges working. He don’t want nobody driving cows in here, and that includes you. “
“What if I want to drive a herd through here to Punta Rassa? What could I do if he closes the land?”
“I don’t care what you do. You can take them cows slam around the south end of Okeechobee or you can go back north and find another way. But you’re not going through here.”
“What if I do it anyway?” Tobias shot back, his anger beginning to boil.
“I got a hundred and fifty men working on this place, and all of them are armed. We’ll shoot ever cow that enters. Now if you want to convert them cows to carcasses, you just go ahead and push ’em in the direction you’re going. That’s all I got to say.”
With that the men rode off a hundred yards and stopped, forming a line facing the herd, rifles drawn.
Tobias said to Zech, “Go tell Frog and Skillit to turn ’em. We can’t fight a hundred and fifty men. We’ll go back north and then cut to the west, toward the salt marsh. But ain’t nobody got the right to close off the land!”
“Pappa, this is just the beginning,” Zech said. “Someday there won’t be any open range left. Last time I was over at Fort Drum and talked to Mister Turner he said men are out everwhere now, surveying land for new railroads, and the railroad companies are buying everything they can get. The lumber companies and turpentine men are doing it too. Someday it’s coming to an end, Pappa, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“You’re wrong!” Tobias responded. “It ain’t coming to an end, and it never will. But if this keeps up, we’ll just put in more orange trees and run less cows. Prices keep going up like they been doing we ought to be able to clear a thousand dollars a acre on oranges.”
“Maybe so, Pappa. But if we stay in the cattle business we’re going to have to own the land and fence it too.”
“Fence it? That’s the best way I know to start a range war. I know what I’d do if I came to a fence. I’d cut it.”
“And maybe get yourself killed for doing it.”
“Whose side are you on? You sound more like a landlord than a cattleman.”
“I’m not talking sides, Pappa. I’ll always be with you, and you know it. What I’m talking is sense.”
“We’ll see,” Tobias said. “Go on now and help Frog and Skillit turn the cows. We’ll find grass elsewhere. There just ain’t no way we can face a hundred and fifty men.”
As Zech rode off he thought about the land he had already bought and the deed lying in a drawer in his cabin, MacIvey land that would never be closed to them. He must plan soon to convert more of the gold doubloons into land.
