and could’ve taken my life had he wanted to?”
Jake ran back toward the camp without a backward glance to see whether the Indian was at the kill or after him. Upon reaching the site, he found everyone just as he had left them sleeping and snoring. Nothing had changed, at least not for them.
Jake contemplated whether or not to share his experience with his friends, but decided to keep it to himself.
“They won’t believe me if I tell them what I seen, and if they do, they’ll probably just make fun of me,” murmured Jake. “But I survived my first venture into them woods, and that Indian didn’t even try to kill me. Hell, he was probably more scairt of me than I was of him. Get up, get up, you lazy bastards! It’s a fine day to be alive and nary a bear, panther, or Indian has got ahold of this lovely carcass of mine. We is going to tame this here wilderness,” hollered Jake, as he shook the men vigorously.
“You sound mighty brave this morning, Mister Jake. I guess the daylight makes all them fears go away,” Frank said, pulling himself up to the coals to make a pot of fresh coffee. “You is a daytime warrior and a night-time chicken.”
“Don’t get him started again, Frank. We got to work today,” ordered Mister Mac.
The group straightened up camp and loaded the pack-horses with their equipment, but Mister Mac decided to make a change in plans.
“Boys, since this here is a pretty good place for us to camp, I think we’ll just use this spot as our base. From this point we can lay out a township in each direction. This can be what you call, the crossroads. That sound all right with you men?”
The group agreed and only loaded surveying equipment on the horses.
A township consisted of an area of land six miles square divided into 36 sections of 640 acres each. To survey four townships of land was a large undertaking.
But by late May, the surveying had been completed in the immediate area and the men were ready to move farther westward. During the past two months, they had covered every inch of the land and made it a point to stay out of the way of the Indians. With each passing day, more Choctaws were seen wandering through the woodlands and closer to the crossroads camp, but at the same time, they kept their distance. The Choctaws minded their own business and continued to live in peace, unaware of the evil future the white men would bring.
The work was finally finished and it was time for the crew to move farther west.
Mister Mac stopped and his men paused at the creek below their now deserted camp and let the horses water before moving out.
“Mister Mac, you know I’ve kind of got attached to this here place. There’s sump’n special about it,” Jake said, as his horse wandered upstream while watering.
“I have the same feelm’ as Jake,” replied Lott. “What more could you ask for? Someone is going to be mighty lucky to get a piece of this here property. One could make a fine livin’ here.”
“Well, young folks like you could probably make sump’n out of it, but for me, I’m too old to start a life out here,” answered Mister Mac. “I’ve got other plans ‘fore I go back to Georgia.”
The group led the horses up the steep bank above the creek and were soon headed west through an immense swamp bottom covered with heavy hardwoods. The horses struggled to make their way through the entanglement of ferns and canes. Never in their lives had these men seen such an abundance of wildlife. It seemed like every time the horses broke through the thick foliage, some kind of wild creature would bolt out seeking safety from the horses’ hooves. They soon crossed an Indian trail that led them out of the swamp and into open woodlands.
“Mister Mac?” questioned Frank. “What do ya plan to do when you finish this job? You said you had sump’n more to do. You mind tellin’ us?”
“Not at all. I plan to help the state sell all this land that We’ve mapped out,” replied Mister Mac. “It was part of the deal I made with the authorities. All the head surveyors got the same arrangement. Who knows the land better than us? Nobody, except the Choctaws.”
Later that evening, the men once again settled around a fire tired from too many hours on horseback and the hard work involved in setting up a new camp.
“Mister Mac,” questioned Jake nervously, “would you sell me a piece of land?”
“Sure, I would, but I don’t own no land in Savannah, Jake,” answered Mister Mac.
“I don’t mean in Savannah. I mean here.”
“Here!” exclaimed Lott. “You must be crazy. You don’t like these woods. You’re scairt of them, Jake. You wouldn’t last a year out here,” snapped Lott.
“Lott, had you rather me live here or go back to Savannah when this job is over?” answered Jake. “I’ve kind of learned to like this rough country. It’s a challenge to me, and I believe I can lick it.”
Surprised that his wayward brother would consider living in this practically uninhabited land, Lott looked Jake in the face to see if he was really serious.
“Jake, I love this land, too. I just haven’t said much about it. I’ll stay if you will, providin’ Mister Mac will sell us the property. How about it, Mister Mac?”
“You boys’ money is as good as any. I’ll sell you any piece you want, if ‘n it ain’t already taken by the Indians who plan to stay on here,”
“That’s a deal, Mister Mac. When we finish this job, you take the money we’ve made and place our names in the section of land where we first made camp, if’n the Indians don’t want it,” insisted Lott.
“And we want that meadow southwest of the camp,” added Jake. “It’s kind of special to me.”
“You boys have worked hard for me the past four years, and I owe you more than the price of this land,” stated Mister Mac. “Not only will I register your property, but you should have a nice sum of money left over. And by the way, if’n they has a drawin’ for the sections, I think I can work a deal where you two can still get yores. You boys got a deal.”
“What about me?” questioned Frank.
“What ya got in mind, Frank?” answered Mister Mac.
“You remember when we traveled south of that Choctaw village on the way up here. There was a large patch of open bottom land next to the Chunky River that would make some kind of fine farmin’. I want that land, Mister Mac. It could make me a rich man one of these days.”
“I’ll see what I can do, but that’s in another surveyor’s area,” Mister Mac said, “and somewhere I think I heard some talk that a few Choctaws may want to settle there. I’m not sure though.”
The campfire was almost out now with only a few glowing coals remaining visible. It wouldn’t be long until each would go in different directions. They had become close in many ways but in the years to come, events would shatter the friendships developed during the long summer of 1832 and would bring pain and suffering to the lives of the Wilsons.
BACK TO THE WILDERNESS
Lott and Jake decided to travel with mister Mccorkle to Jackson, the state capital of Mississippi, to purchase the supplies needed for life in the Choctaw lands. With winter coming, they felt it would be better to remain in Jackson until spring which would give them several months to prepare for their return to the wilderness. They would have the long summer to build a house and begin limited cultivation before the cold weather arrived.
One obstacle blocked their return. The state government did not want settlers in the area until the Choctaws were removed. This had been planed for the coming summer. Already there was a rendezvous point in the southern part of Newton County where the Indians were beginning to gather. Some Choctaws were still undecided about remaining on their tribal lands. If they did, they would have to adopt the ways of