in the forest, tribally, in small communities, some in log cabins, some in
wigwams or tepees.
BLOODLINES 75
Already there were settlers in the neighboring, less peaceful, territory
of Missouri, and some had gone farther west, and crossed the Sabine
River, into the Mexican province of Texas.
Nashville was the crossroads, and James was wise enough to understand
that fortunes can be made more easily at crossroads than at destinations.
James and Washington found a boardinghouse and settled in. Their letters
of introduction served them well, and they were welcomed to the community.
Being Irish was no disadvantage here; it was sufficient, they quickly
discovered, that they were white gentlemen. The manners and modes of the
town were no different from any other they had known, if more open and
informal, though both James and Washington were amused that almost all
white men, rich or poor, had constant dribbles on their chins, from
chewing tobacco. James never took to the practice. The few free blacks
were regarded dubiously by the majority of whites, if not with open
hostility, and the slaves were a simple fact of life, harshly treated or
otherwise, depending on the whim of their Massas. The Indians, of whatever
tribe, were mostly shunned and avoided, and half-breeds despised, even by
other Indians.
Within two weeks, James and Washington had found, and arranged to buy,
a spacious wooden store in the main street. Washington had his portion
from his father and was ready to pay cash. James had wrestled with his
conscience. Ultimately, not wanting to be indebted to a bank or his
younger brother, he used his own portion that he had vowed he would never
touch. He justified the breaking of this oath by his need for a start in
life.
Their supplies began arriving by flat-bottomed barge from Philadelphia
and Baltimore, and soon their shelves were stacked with clothing and
cloth-calico, linen, wool, and woven cotton-hats and boots, cases of
candles, tins of tobacco, bags of loose coffee and tea, flour and
oatmeal, dry beans and maize, crockery and cutlery, pots and pans, and
racks and spades and hoes. Even before the shop opened, they had begun
business, making contact with the farmers who dealt with their brothers
in the East, offering their services in any and every capacity, as
mailmen and post office, as agents and suppliers,
76 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
and as accountants and bookkeepers. They preferred cash money, specie, as
their payment, but were prepared to take signed notes or paper; they offered
credit, provided there was collateral, they would even barter, and they
accepted deeds to land, the common currency of the frontier.
They hung up their shingle, JACKSON BROTHERS, DRY GOODS, and on the day the
store was ready, they looked at each other, both in serviceable trousers,
with blousy shirts and clean linen aprons, shook hands, wished each other
good luck, and opened their door.
They did better than they had hoped and were busier than they could have
imagined. At the end of the first day, they knew they needed some help, if
only an errand boy, to run messages, clean the store, and load wagons. They
put a sign in the window, confidently expecting a number of applications
from the poor white boys in the district, keen to earn pocket money, but to
their surprise, no one came for the job. Had they been more attuned to the
town and the times, they might have noticed that some of their customers
looked at the sign suspiciously, but they were new to the district, and
naive.
James ran the store on his own, for Washington was always out making
deliveries in the wagon. He was toying with putting an advertisement for the
job in the local newspaper, when the door burst open, and an angry white man
came in. He snatched the job advertisement from the door and marched to the
counter, interrupting two women who were debating the merits of different
brands of linseed oil with James.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.
James was irritated, and glared at the intruder. A tall, lanky man, with a
shock of unruly red hair and startling, sapphire eyes that were dancing
with anger. A slender, well-dressed black man had followed him into the
store, and stood behind him, Ue a shadow.
The ferocity of the man's approach unnerved James. The two women drifted
away to inspect bags of white beans.
"I need a boy for the store," James said. "To run errands, and keep the
place clean-"
"Nigger work," the man shouted, interrupting James. He
BLOODLINES 77
turned to his shadow. "Nigger work, eh, Alfred?"
The shadow nodded, and his Massa turned back to James.
"No decent white boy would do this."
James's temper was rising.
"But I need help, and I'd pay well," he said, with an edge in his voice.
The man laughed, and James wondered what was so funny.
"Then get a nigger," he said.
"I don't know how," James countered. "None have applied."
The man laughed again, and the shadow chuckled. "Nigger boys don't apply
for jobs; they don't have a choice in the matter. You buy 'em."
James felt foolish now. The concept of owning slaves was no longer
shocking or exotic to him, but he had never imagined he would have the
need to purchase one. He was not sure he wanted to own a slave.
An image popped into his mind of a well-dressed woman in Liverpool
leading a beautifully attired Nubian boy, on a silver chain. The boy had
not seemed unhappy.
"How?" was the best he could manage.
The man's anger had dissipated, and he looked at James almost pityingly,
and shook his head.
"I thought your brothers would have equipped you better for the
frontier."
It dawned on James who he was. Some cadence in his speech matched the
phrases he had read in irate letters.
"Mr. Jackson?" he wondered, and Andrew laughed, and shook his hand.
"Andrew will do," he said. "And you're the greenhorn. James or
Washington?"
"James," James murmured, feeling very like an errant boy before his
father.
"Well, James," Andrew said. "You've already set a few tongues wagging in
Nashville with this advertisement, Everyone took pity on you because you
are new, but no one had the guts to tell you. Except me."
He tapped the advertisement on the counter.
"We'll find you a boy."
78 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
He turned to his shadow. "See to it, Alfred. Get him a good un, but not
too pricey. We may have one at the farm.
"Yes, suh, Massa," the shadow, Alfred, murmured.
Andrew turned back to James.
"Irish," he barked. "Horses?"
James didn't understand the question.
"Horseracing!" Andrew snapped impatiently. "Are you a gambling man?"
"Some," James admitted. The truculent manner of his visitor was annoying
/> him again. He wanted to say something to put him in his place, but was
already slightly in awe of him.
"My father bred steeplechasers," he said, with a tinge of pride. "Crazy
Jane, among others."
Andrew nodded in appreciation, and James was surprised again, for he
could not imagine that anyone here had heard of his father's prize mare.
-We'll make a frontiersman of you yet," he said. "Though I trust your
prices will be more reasonable than your thieving brothers'."
He was already on his way out of the store, and James's temper snapped.
., my brothers are not thieves," he cried. "And nor am I.-
Andrew stopped and turned back, and gave James his most dazzling smile.
The effect of that smile, impudent, confident, embracing, and reassuring,
was remarkable. James thought he had survived a test of fire, and had
triumphed and been included in the company of a god.
"Well, we shall see," Andrew said. He tipped his hat to the women who
were still twittering about beans and swept out of the store. Alfred
followed him, as closely as his shadow.
After he had gone, James looked at his hands, which were shaking slightly,
but he was well satisfied with the meeting. He sold the women what they
wanted, then, having no other customers, set to and swept the store.
At dinner that night he told Washington about Andrew, and, cautiously,
suggested that they might soon own a slave. Washington raised his
eyebrows in surprise, but listened to James's justifications.
BLOODLINES 79
"I'd rather the poor beggar was with us," Washington said,
than stuck in the fields like his brothers. I have seen terrible things
done to them."
Washington, on his journeys of delivery, had seen much more of the actual
workings of slave life than James. He had seen blacks flogged for minor
misdemeanors, and it had shocked him at first, and repulsed him. But he
was getting used to it.
"And it is the way of things," he said.
They agreed they would be kind to their slave, if he turned up, and never
raise their hand to him in anger. They made a room ready in the basement,
with a small bunk and some blankets, like getting a kennel ready for a
new and costly dog, and wondered what he would eat. They took their own
meals at the tavern across the road, and remembered there was provision
for the feeding of slaves, in the kitchen.
Alfred came back the following morning, before Washington set off on his
rounds. He had a small black boy with him, of eight or nine years old.
He tipped his hat to James and Washington.
"Massa," he said. "This here be Ephraim."
Ephraim was thin and scrawny, simply dressed and barefooted. He kept his
eyes to the floor.
Alfred bent down and spoke to him.
"This yo' new Massas," he said. "Be a good boy, an' allus do what you
tol'."
Ephraim nodded without looking up. Washington went to him.
"Well, now, Ephraim," he said. "I'm Massa Washington, and that's Massa
James."
He waited a moment.
"Do you understand?"
Ephraim nodded.
"What is my name?" Washington asked him.
"Mass' Wash'n'ton," Ephraim murmured.
"Very good," Washington said. "And that man?"
"Mass' James," Ephraim whispered.
"Excellent," Washington said, and put his arm around the boy's shoulders.
Ephraim stiffened.
80 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
"There's no need to be frightened of me," Washington told him. "I'm not
going to beat you."
Ephraim nodded, but didn't seem convinced.
"Are you hungry?" Washington asked him.
"Chile bin fed," Alfred said, but Ephraim looked up at Washington with
large and sorrowful eyes. He had been well fed that morning, but he was
always hungry.
Washington smiled. The effect of his smile on Ephraim was similar to the
effect of Andrew's smile on James the previous day. He looked at
Washington adoringly and nodded his head.
"I's allus hungry," he said.
"Thought so," Washington said cheerily. "I am too. Why don't you and I
find some bread and cheese and get to know each other. -
He led Ephraim to the back of the store, found some fresh bread and a
lump of hard cheese, and the two sat together, munching happily, while
Washington told Ephraim what was expected of him.
Alfred came to James, and put some papers on the counter.
"Sign here, Massa," he instructed James.
James signed where he indicated. It was official. He owned a slave.
"Dat a hunerd dollar you owe Massa Andrew," he said. "But he take it in
kind."
He tipped his hat, and left the store. James went to join Washington and
Ephraim.
"He's a good lad," Washington told James. "His family should be proud of
him."
"Where is your mother, Ephraim?" he asked the little slave, who looked
at the floor again, because he didn't understand the question.
"Yo' mammy.- Washington had already picked up a few words of the slaves'
dialect. "Where is she?"
-Wi' Massa Jackson," Ephraim whispered. There was a tear in his eye. This
big white man might be quite friendly, but he was his Massa, and Massas
could turn on nigger boys at any moment. And he missed his mammy.
Although he had only been parted from her that morning, he did not expect
to see her again.
"Well, I'll take you with me sometimes, when I go to visit
BLOODLINES 81
Massa Jackson's farm," Washington told him, for he missed his mother. "And
you can see your mammy.-
Ephraim looked at him again, as if he couldn't quite believe his ears,
or his luck,
"Now, let's go and took at your room," Washington said, and led Ephraim
away.
James stayed in the store, beset by two conflicting emotions. He was
quite proud of the fact that he now owned a slave, of some value. He was
becoming a man of property and substance.
But he was also ashamed. It had not occured to him that Ephraim might
miss his mammy. Or even that he had one.
10
After Ephraim it was easy, almost as easy as making money, which flowed
to them in a steady stream at first, but then in a raging torrent.
They bought a house, and because they needed a cook and housekeeper,
Alfred found them Tiara, a young, outspoken girl who cost four hundred
dollars.
They decided to expand the small stable at the back of the store into a
livery stable, and they needed hostlers, so Alfred found them Micah, a
sturdy young man who was good with horses. Micah cost six hundred
dollars.
When Tiara and Micah got much too close to each other and had a son,
James discovered that he owned a healthy baby boy who hadn't cost him
anything at all and was worth, on the day of his birth, fifty dollars,
and who appreciated in value with each passing year. Tiara and Micah br />
jumped over the broom, a slave custom, into the land of matrimony, and
had several more children, all of whom belonged to James, who had never
attended a slave auction.
The store did well, and they used that and the house they owned as
collateral to buy some undeveloped lots on the out-
82 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
skirts of town. Within a year they sold three of them at a handsome
profit. With that money they purchased lot #177, on which a cotton gin had
been erected, and began processing much of the cotton from the district.
Washington, filled with wanderlust and the adventure of the frontier,
explored farther south, to Natchez, which had been a Spanish town, and
bought several lots near there. After the Purchase and Louisiana's later
admission to the Union, settlement in the area flourished. Washington
sold his land and tripled his money. He bought more land, cheaper land,
farther from the town, and within a year sold that and bought more.
James and Washington had early on decided that, unlike most stores in
Nashville, theirs would serve Indians. They were not to be allowed in
while whites were shopping, but came in the evening, when the store was
closed to others. If they wanted to make purchases during the day, they
would come to the back, and Micah or Ephraim would relay their needs to
James.
The Indians were keenly aware of local opinion and attitudes toward them,
and just as aware of, and keenly grateful for, James's lack of that
attitude. James was fascinated by them. He saw little to fear in them,
and could not equate the countless stories of bloodthirsty savages with
these reserved and downcast people who were struggling to survive in a
world that was alien to them. They in turn respected his confidence, and
he was befriended by Jimmy Doublehedd, and his father, the Cherokee
chief, Doublehead.
Chief Doublehead was old, and seldom smiled. In his youth he had been a
fierce warrior, but after countless, fruitless battles against the
whites, he had come to believe that his nation could not win against such
overwhelming, constantly renewing, numbers of white men, who were better
armed and better trained. He sought peace, as being in the best interest
of his people.
He bent his efforts toward a harmonious accommodation between the races,
and the whites came to regard him as the man who tried to civilize his
people, He ceded and sold land to the whites. He opened a trading post,
and supervised appreciable commerce. He adopted the white man's ways of
agriculture, established a plantation, and owned several black slaves.
BLOODLINES 83
A scandal erupted when Doublehead ceded by treaty a large territory of
land to the south, between Nashville and Huntsville, The Chickasaw
claimed it was their land and outside of Doublehead's jurisdiction. A
small war ensued, which both Indian tribes lost. Younger braves of his
tribe rebelled, and accused Doublehead of surrendering to the white man.
Chief Doublehead's reputation among the tribes was shattered.
He found it impossible to smile anymore, because there was nothing to
smile about. Only his son, Jimmy, defended him.
Council was called, and one by one the young braves voiced their
grievances against Doublehead, the U.S. government, and all white men.
Doublehead listened in silence, and hardly moved, except to restrain his
angry son, Jimmy. It was council, and all were entitled to their say.
Bonepolisher, a sturdy Cherokee brave, made a long speech accusing
Doublehead of infamy to his own tribe, and of making secret treaties with
the white men, to benefit himself.
Doublehead heard him out, but his anger was rising.
"You have betrayed the people, your brothers! " Bonepolisher cried. It
was the greatest sin an Indian could be accused of by his own people.
Doublehead got to his feet.
"You have said enough, Bonepolisher," Doublehead said, in a voice of
thunder. "Stop, or I shall kill you."
In fury, Bonepolisher grabbed his tomahawk and raised it to strike
Doublehead, who shot him through the heart.
The council adjourned in anger and confusion. Later that evening,