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CHAPTER 1
Tragic Loss
"Did you know my grandpa James is an Indian?" Johnny said to his friends as they looked up at the window I was looking out of.
"No, he isn't Johnny, you're lying," said Sarah his younger sister.
"I'm not lying if you don't believe me go ask him yourself," Johnny replied angrily.
"You go with me," she said, afraid.
"Alright I'll take you. You guys stay here while I take my sister," Johnny said as he grabbed his sister's hand and went upstairs.
"So many years ago, and everything has gone now. But there are good memories so I have that. To be in those mountains again, I think that is where I wish to be laid, somewhere I will not be found I think. Look at those children down there they have no idea what life was like back then.
"Grandpa is resting so don't bother him he's very old and needs his rest," said Dan. "But daddy Johnny and I need to talk to him," said Sarah whining.
"Yah," said Johnny.
"Ok, Ok but if your Grandpa doesn't want to talk to you let him be."
"Grandpa Johnny said you are an Indian," said Sarah soft ly.
"Johnny is right I am a Shoshone warrior."
"See I told you so," said Johnny.
"But grandpa you have blue eyes and Indians have brown eyes," said Sarah.
"Johnny how much has your father told you about me?"
"I didn't tell the children much about you," Dan said. "When I asked pa, he never told me much about you,"
"I can understand why he never said anything." "Your father had been through a lot and the story is a little unbelievable even to me!" "Dan, sit down and I will tell you and the children the whole story and believe me everything I say is the absolute truth, I've never lied."
It was in the year eighteen fifteen, or was it sixteen when I was born. It's been so long ago and I don't celebrate my birthday like the young ones do now. I just don't remember quite when it was, oh well it doesn't matter. It doesn't change who I am James York, also known as Soaring Eagle With Many Coups and the Earl of Worcester.
I was born in Saint Louis, but my father, Nathaniel York, wasn't around when I was born. He came from the east and wanted to be a mountain man and so he went west to the Shining Mountains so my mother Mary von Muller told me. Now there are others who say he was a low life gambler on some riverboat but I tend to believe my mother. My father never married my mother so that makes me what a lot of people refer to as a bastard and there were many who reminded me of it as I grew up. My mother said he will come back some day, marry her and take care of us but I was having my doubts. I had these doubts because too many mountain men that I met told me most men did not last long in those mountains unless they were very good.
We lived in the storage room of Mr. McConnell's General Store. It was small but we had a stove where mama cooked and it kept us warm. Mr. McConnell was a robust good man in his forties and would have let us stay there for free but mama felt it wasn't good to take advantage of a person's kindness. So, mama and I worked for him when I wasn't in school and he gave us a little food to sustain us.
I was small as a child, with long yellow hair and of course blue eyes. I had a knack for remembering and understanding anything I read or heard and I read every book someone let me borrow or later bought. Mr. McConnell had a lot of customers who spoke only French, Spanish and even Mandan, an Indian tribe who lived along the banks of the Missouri River. By the age of eight I could speak, read and write all these languages also Greek, Latin, and even German but I didn't get to use German much. I thought it good to learn because my mama's family was German and my father's family was English. This all came in handy when Mr. McConnell had some customer come into the store who didn't speak English and when I met some mountain men who spoke Spanish or French and I asked them about pa.
The general store had a cornucopia of goods most not so fancy like the bigger stores but useful items. Mr. McConnell had a lot of people going there because of his friendly manner and he was totally honest and fair.
I looked forward to going to school. Sarah was the pretty redhead, green-eyed daughter of Mr. McConnell who was two years younger than I and she along with me would go to school early.
Sarah's mother died in childbirth and my mama tried to fill in as Sarah's mother. As much as mama tried Mr. McConnell wanted to raise her his own way and kept her near him as much as possible so both lived in the room above the store. I don't know why he was that way, but Sarah and I got along well.
We left for school early because of Jack Flynn. Jack Flynn was one of the meanest kids I ever knew. He was a tall, strong, skinny, redhead about a year older than me. I don't think he ever bathed he smelled bad. He lived with that rough crowd near the river where his father worked when he wasn't drunk. He didn't have a mother or any other kin that I heard of. It was rumored that his father killed his mother in a drunken rage but there was no proof. Jack had his followers and he would intimidate most all the other kids, mostly boys, by giving you a good beating if you didn't do what he wanted or just for general purposes. He would take all or part of your lunch and there was many a day I went hungry or had to share with Sarah because her lunch was taken. He would also pick on certain kids to make fun of them. Jack cornered one boy who was a year younger than me in the odd house. He forced the boy to remove all his clothing and jack threw his clothing up in a tree. There that boy was with not a stitch of clothing on, stuck in the odd house and everybody else in the classroom. He was finally found by his big brother and our teacher, Miss O'Brien. His brother climbed the tree and retrieved what was taken. When the two boys came back into the classroom there were Jack and his friends uncontrollably laughing. When Miss O'Brien confronted Jack, he denied it and everyone, including the victim, was too afraid to say anything. After school, there was a confrontation between the victim's big brother and Jack and Jack nearly beat him to death not to everybody's surprise. After that, no one tried to fight Jack. Jack was the main source of people calling me names because I didn't have a father.
"Grandpa why didn't all those boys and girls tell their mothers and fathers what Jack was doing?" said Johnny.
They did, in fact my mama, Mr. McConnell, and most the other parents met with the teacher and of course Jack's father was there also. When everybody had their say Jack's father said there isn't any proof of what they were saying and any fight he was in he was just defending himself. He also said they had no right to kick him out of the school. Of course, he was right in what he said and no child that attended that school would say anything knowing if he got kicked out or not there would be a beating or worse, so Jack stayed in school.
With all the trouble with Jack Miss O'Brien more than made up for it, at least to me. Miss O'Brien was a large woman, serious about education but a kind, jolly person. She seemed to take a great interest in me and would from time to time give me all kinds of books to read such as the writings of one William Shakespeare which I can recite.
On occasion, I would sneak into the book store and read what I could or Mr. McConnell would have some books that he let me read before he sold them. I also got to go down to the Hawkens gunsmith shop from time to time and I helped Samuel Hawken the proprietor of the shop with his French and Spanish customers and for that he let me stick around.
When a mountain man came into to his shop I would always ask about my pa and the answer was always the same he most likely doesn't use his real name. Most mountain men use mountain names and mountain men don't live long so my pa was most likely dead.
Some of the mountain men were real nice, such as Louie Surveon. Mr. Surveon didn't speak English very well but when he found out I could speak French and had a father who was a mountain man he treated me good. He and others showed me how to shoot the Hawken rifle and I got very good. I got so good I was allowed to take part in some of their shooting contests and many times I beat them. This seemed to make them like me even more. Before Mr. Surveon left he said, "Young one when you get older you find me in those mountains your father went to and I will show you how to be a really good mountain man." That was the last time I ever saw him like what all those mountain men told me, I assume he died.
The winter of my eighth birthday was the coldest and wettest in some time, it was also the year mama got sick. It started with just a cough now and then and mama would use a home remedy she knew to take care of it. No one thought much about it but it got worse when she started to have a fever and she was bed ridden. Mr. McConnell said she might have winter fever or la grippe, maybe both, there's just no telling. He said if my mother didn't get better by the next day he would get a doctor. Then he made something that he said his mother used to make when someone in the family wasn't feeling well. It was made from whiskey, honey, and tea all heated over a stove. Mr. McConnell gave mama some and told me to give her some more when she needed it.
It was cold that night, so I filled the pot belly stove as much as I could and kept the fire fed but it was still mighty cold. Mama was shivering a lot so I threw my blanket on her. Then after a few hours she would start sweating and I would have to take the blanket off. This went on all night long while mama was mumbling in her delirium. Once or twice I thought she mumbled out the name Nathaniel, my pa. I was getting real tired and cold so some time during the night I crawled into mama's bed hoping we could both stay warm and I fell asleep. I woke up early the next morning as the sun was just starting to come up and right off I knew something was wrong. I couldn't hear mama making any noise nor breathing and she was cold so I turned slowly around and mama had a blue look to her. I jumped out of bed and stared for a few seconds trying to figure what I was seeing. Then, as I started crying, I yelled, "Mama," followed by, "Mr. McConnell come quickly I think there is something wrong with mama."
I could hear the heavy foot falls of Mr. McConnell coming down the stairs and Sarah coming after him. He went over to mama then turned to us and shooed us out of the room. A few seconds later he came out of the room, went over to the store counter and wrote a note and gave it to me then said, "Go to the Sheriff's office and give it to them."
"Shouldn't I go to the doctor's office?" I asked.
He sighed and said, "No James do as I told you," so off I ran.
I didn't have to go far when I ran into Deputy Johnson. Mr. McConnell and I knew Deputy Johnson for the many times he had come into the store when some drunk riff-raft from the river came in and caused trouble. I told Deputy Johnson, "Mama is real sick and I need you to come to the store right away," and I handed him the note.
After reading the note he told me, "Go back to the store and I will be there shortly," so back to the store I went. Mr. McConnell wouldn't let me go back in the room where mama was, so I waited and soon Deputy Johnson and another man came to the store and they went into mama's room without even saying a word to me. When everyone came out of mama's room the man Deputy Johnson brought turned his head toward me and shook it as he walked out of the store. My heart started beating real hard. Mr. McConnell took me by my arm and sat me down in a chair at the rear of the store and he and Deputy Johnson started talking to me. Tears came running down my cheeks as they told me that mama didn't suffer and was in a better place now. Sarah, by this time, came over crying also and held my hand.
Mr. McConnell said, "I will take care of James for now until you can figure out what you are going to do." That was alright with deputy Johnson. Otherwise, he said I would have to go to the children's home or make my own way in life. Before Deputy Johnson left he said to me and Mr. McConnell, "I will send the undertaker for your mother."
After Deputy Johnson left Mr. McConnell talked to me some more. He said, "I know it's hard to answer some questions now but I need to know something your mother has told me little about her."
I said still in shock, "Alright." By this time, the crying was subsiding I felt totally lost and alone.
"James, do you have any relatives that you know of?" asked Mr.
McConnell.
"Mama said my pa was in the Shining Mountains."
"'Yes, but are there any others?"
"Mama said I had an aunt and uncle somewhere in Pennsylvania they had also a son but I don't know of anyone else."
"Do you know if your mother has any letters from your aunt or uncle?"
'I don't know but if she did, they would be in my mama's keepsake box."
"One more thing, you and your mother are Catholics, am I right?"
"We were some-what Catholic, but we hadn't practiced in that religion."
"You did fine James I'll take care of everything you sit here until they come for your mother."
The undertaker came about fifteen minutes later. He was a tall, thin melancholy-looking man dressed in black who looked like he was near death himself. He didn't say a word to me he just asked Mr. McConnell, "Where's the body?"
Mr. McConnell pointed toward the room mama was in and without another word the undertaker went in with Mr. McConnell following him. I could hear the undertaker and Mr. McConnell talking. The undertaker looked at mama and asked without turning around, "Who is going to pay for this?"
Mr. McConnell said angrily, "Don't worry about that I don't have a lot of money but I will pay."
The undertaker turned around and stared at Mr. McConnell and without saying a word went outside and came back with his assistant and a coffin that was just a wooden box. They put mama in the coffin and they weren't too gentle about it. Then they all took mama out of the room.
I walked into the room and sat down on the bed and just stared out into space I was numb and in total shock, then the tears came again. I sat alone in that room for hours. Neither Sarah nor I went to school that day and I had never been absent from school. Long about noon Sarah came into the room with something for me to eat but I couldn't eat and it just sat there. She left the room and told her father and Mr. McConnell came back into the room and said, "I understand how you're feeling you're grieving. I went through the same thing when my wife died. You need to keep busy so come with me I'm going to close the store for a few hours so we can make some arrangements for your mother."
Mr. McConnell, Sarah and I headed to the Catholic Church where they had a graveyard there. Mr. McConnell approached the head priest by the name of Monsignor Charles Braille, a thin old man who looked mean. He was a Frenchman and he had a strong accent but could speak English so Mr. McConnell didn't need me to interpret for him. Mr. McConnell explained to him that he wasn't Catholic but mama and I were members and about mama dying. Mr. McConnell said, "We need a place to bury the boy's mother she just died this morning."
The priest looked up and down at Mr. McConnell with a frown and then looked at me and asked, "You and the boy got any money?"
"No, I'm just a poor merchant who barely makes enough for me and my daughter and now James."
"Likely story, I know who you are. You are that merchant that has that miserable little store whose clientele are those low life mountain men, savages and the other riff-raft of this miserable city."
"Sir, I am an honest man and will not be talked to that way! Now do you have a place to bury this poor boy's mother or not?"
"You can put the boy's mother where they put the rest of the low lifes -- over there. As far as services I'm accustomed to being paid. Since you claim you don't have any money father Garcia will do them he seems to like people like you, now good-by, sir." He turned and left with Mr. McConnell's mouth being left open in shock. I think we all were left shocked by the way we were being treated.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Soaring Eagle with Many Coups"
by .
Copyright © 2017 James Safreno.
Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
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