Blain Hawk U.S. Marshal The Complete Trilogy: A Tribute to Black U.S. Marshals of the 1800's

By Lloyd Wheatley

Black and the Native American United States Marshals worked out of Fort Smith Arkansas for Judge Isaac Parker, the hanging judge. These marshals were active during the reconstruction of the 1800s. Slavery was over in Texas in June 1865, two years after Abraham Lincoln's emancipation proclamation in January 1863 and during the post-jim crow era when prejudice and discrimination were still very high. Their heroic actions lead to taming the Oklahoma territory and cleaned up the corruption in the courts and the many ruthless outlaws. Action-packed with intense scenes cast in the wild west, you will find yourself emotionally involved.

Blain's Peace and tranquility are interrupted by the notorious Johnnie Red and his gang that began with his father and now has passed down to him. The heinous crimes committed by the villains stretch to the upper echelons of government and it binds Blain and the President of the United States together. Only Blain's past heritage saves him and helps usher in a new era of lawmen. He is commissioned as a United States Marshal to go after his arch-nemesis with the full weight of the U.S. Government.

Blain also finds love that he did not count on when he meets the feisty and attractive Kathy that has her agenda. The two clash a bit but discover they have more in common than they thought. Boundaries of normal protocols and societal norms are challenged when Blain commissions women as part of his posse. This cast of lawmen, women and Native Americans begins the clean up the territory. Their reputations started to precede them, and many outlaws were looking for them. When their best attempts are thwarted again, and again they had to revert to different tactics to get their man. Clever and innovative the posse was able to strike significant blows to the outlaws but Johnny survives and sets an unexpected trap for Blain.

Blain is called to action after retirement due to Johnnie's Red family to try and finish what started years ago once and for all. It will cost Blain for such a task, but he rises to the challenge to pin his badge on hopefully one last time. Will Blain be victorious in his quest? Will he survive the trap of Johnnie Red? Does he get saved as he did before? Find out in this gripping western drama.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9780967252254

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All Rights Reserved

Copyright 2016 by Lloyd J. Wheatley

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system without permission in writing from the author.

ISBN #978-0-9672522-4-7

eISBN # 978-0-9672522-5-4

Printed in the United States of America

Second Printing

To order books visit our web site & email us directly at: www.newhorizonpub.com

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

Chapters

INTRODUCTION

PROLOGUE

DEDICATION

THE BEGINNING

BROTHERHOOD

GEORGIA SWEETNESS

THE CALL

HOME

THE NEW FRONTIER

THE FULL JOURNEY

THE TRACE

RENDEZVOUS

UNITY

THE SLASHES OF TRUTH CUT DEEP

SMELL THE ROSES

THE EVIL SEED

WHERE IS THE HONOR

WHEN HELL COMES KNOCKING

TILL DEATH DO WE PART

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

INTRODUCTION

Blain Hawk U.S. Marshal The Complete Trilogy is the complete story from previous paperback short stories written in a three part series by the author. It is the fictional exploits and adventures of a Black United States Marshal set in the 1800’s.  Although the main characters are fictional, they are surrounded by real people, who contributed much to America’s advancements with inventions, politics, meritorious service and bravery as military members during the period of history covered by the novel. It allows one to imagine the emotional pressures of black and Native American law men during this period of western struggles in ways that most people are not aware of. It is an exciting way to learn your history while being pleasantly entertained with the many twists and turns of this novel.

You will see how Blain’s roots helped shape his character and how challenges to those roots affected him. Some say his character sharpened and others have said it was ruined. The story is an acknowledgement that there were black U.S. Marshals. One of the most famous and often mentioned is Bass Reeves. This book is based on this real person. It is not a biography, but rather a fictional account of one of the two to three hundred other marshals of the time. Those others, while serving under Judge Isaac Parker in the Oklahoma Territory, were often ambushed and met with tragic deaths in the commission of their duties. There are speculations that many are in unmarked graves along trails in the vast territory. The Museum at Fort Smith Arkansas has documents and other information accounting for most of the marshals. Not all of them are identified due to poor record keeping for this period of history. We are however, grateful for the records that were kept.

This is also a tribute to the Native Americans. Through my research with a local Native American Chief in Delaware it was thought that there would be no record. Therefore many that decided to serve as a U.S. Marshal no longer kept their Native American name and took on Christian names as their white counterparts thus eliminating any reference to their existence. In doing such they abdicated their natural born heritage and all rights to a particular tribe. Prejudice was very high during this period and not just from the whites. It was more so the Native Americans.

They hated the thought of assimilating with the white man’s culture. For these Marshals it was not a problem to operate in this manner. It will become clear as to why they chose to operate this way. How proud they must have been, not to mention the strength it took to overcome natural resistance of change from their own people. It takes tremendous courage to affect change. America is still doing so for not only the Native American but all that are born here of different ethnicity and religions. The exact names for many that served are listed in the back of the book. I thought it appropriate to mention them for the record. The evolution for a better more equal America continues. Another fact is the Buffalo Soldier, a black unit in the Union Army, named that by Native Americans due to their ruggedness and durability as seen by them in battle. They carried the symbol of the 9th and 10th Cavalry. There are moments where their heroic actions were not always told truthfully and often times not mentioned in traditional social studies courses in secondary or college classes in the 1960’s. 

This book, I hope, will help create a conversation. There are several nuances of racism, justice, fairness, love and acts of violence that can shift your emotions at times, even challenge your personal belief and thoughts about the issues. Whichever direction you may be swayed while reading this, your interest in the story will be no less than fascinating. This story also focuses on the rise of women that exhibit power, cunningness, and feistiness. Did I mention as U.S. Marshals? Women are typically not seen in this type of role nor would most think they could hold their own in such a time. They also had a positive impact on America.

So who is Blain Hawk? He is what we all would want him to be given the situations and circumstances he’s put in. He is far from perfect. He is confronted with troubles at times that seem insurmountable. Lastly, the names of factual people appear in italic format. See how well you know your history by knowing what these great Americans did?

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Prologue

When I was a young boy I was always interested in what heroic things people of color, did in history. I came to this realization by always being bored sitting in school listening to teachers talk about the great times which meant things were better before now. What I remembered most was the time John F. Kennedy was assassinated. I was in the third grade and saw how everyone was so emotionally affected. There was a moment of silence. We all had to put our heads down on the desk in school as the announcement came over the speaker in the class room. I felt a sense of togetherness and believed that we were all one.

I was a bit of a loner. I was the youngest of four. My mother being a single parent and raising four kids was much harder than I could imagine especially at such a young age. It wasn’t until I became much older that I fully understood what she was challenged with living in the City of Baltimore in the early 1960’s.

As time went on, like most kids, I was required to go to school. Unlike today, if you were a kid walking around town during school hours the police would pick you up, take you to the station and call your parents. There would be inquiries as to why you are not in school or playing Hooky. I’m saying this to lay the foundation to the fact that being in school was the law and it was enforced by the society we lived in. There were expectations of our children and being educated by the schools was the biggest, at least in my house. You would think with that much school there should not be any problems with passing your classes. Well not for me. I struggled miserably with subjects but none more than Social Studies.

I developed a dislike for the subject. All I could see were whites doing everything. They were the Heroes. They had the women. They had the fancy clothes and guns. I didn’t see people that looked like me in roles other than subservient. We were projected as not beautiful and uneducated. Considerations contrary to this were unimaginable even though there were several black cinemas made in the 40’s and 50’s. You didn’t see them on T.V. during my time.

It was not until I was 13 and ultimately failed the class in the 8th grade that I was awakened to the truth of Social Studies. It was when I attended summer school and I had a black teacher. She said; I am not going to teach you U.S. history like you learned in your regular school year. I’m going to teach you Black U.S. History. Suddenly my thoughts became a reality. We didn’t even sit at desks. She had us all in a big circle around a single round table. We all helped each other in the reading and homework assignments. We even did a color chalk mural of a historical time line for the period we were studying. My final grade was an S for the official grade indicating satisfactory. Although I went to Garrison Junior High I was sent to Lemmel Junior High School. Garrison did not have a summer program at that time. I do not remember my teacher’s name to this day. I wish I could so I can thank her for what she was able to do for me and how it changed my life. History became number one for me.

I was able to transfer that energy from the class and turn on my imagination while  viewing some of my favorite television shows such as; The Lone Ranger, Wild, Wild West, Have Gun will Travel, The Big Valley and the Man from U.N.C.L.E. (United Network Command for Law Enforcement). Who could forget The Green Hornet with his trusted side kick Kato (Bruce Lee).

I knew from that point that there had to be blacks with whites that did heroic and honorable things in America’s history, together. I just didn’t know who or when. Now I do. My reading increased from that moment in summer school to now. As I look back I now know how it had a direct positive impact in my professional career. Whenever I needed to know something, outside of asking somebody an immediate question with no response, I would go read about it. Study the information, pass most any subject test, do technical/analytical tasks, get hired and promoted in jobs to eventually starting my own business. That’s the power of a good teacher! They can ignite the imagination of a child and will change them for the best of their life.

As a final note, while doing this book I learned some history about Garrison. It closed in 2012 permanently. Two of the statistics listed of several that jumped out at me was It was 100% Black Native American and Asian. Therefore it exceeded the average ratio of minorities in other schools in the State. Second, the educational cost per student was approximately $2K more than the other schools. Not knowing all the reasons the administration decided to close it, one can draw their own conclusions. The neighborhood was a mixed ethnicity in the 1960’s and there was a prominent Jewish community with places of worship and teaching less than five blocks away. Small business owners as well as other professionals lived a couple of blocks from the school, Jim Parker of the Championship Colts being one of them. I lived on the corner of Garrison Blvd and Cold Spring lane approx three blocks from the school. I could walk there in 15 minutes. The area has dramatically changed. In the words of one of our most famous recording artist Mr. Marvin Gaye, What’s going on?

DEDICATION

To my mother who never got the chance to see me reach my goals. She made sure I kept my focus on what mattered most, my education. Although there were some bad people around I stayed clear of them the best I could. I didn’t end up on drugs, in jail or dead. She would always say, "There is good in everybody. You just have to find it." Her loving spirit departed at such an early time in my life. She was in her 50’s.

To my wife Audria who is as unique as her name. Always quietly watching and allowing me make mistakes over the years pursuing my dream, then recalibrate my focus and try it again. I know she understands that I don’t believe in a no win scenario. I always find a way and sure to tell her my answer. As always, she just smiles. She is also the only one that can make me mad and get away with it. For all the things we have seen and experienced, I can truly say she is my best friend as well as the love of my life. At the time of this book, it’s been 41 years and counting.

To my brother Clark who always encouraged me to do better. His sense of kindness and wit would always make you think before you leap. My sisters Jeanny and Tina who kept me from harm as they always protected me even from my childhood enemies. Now I know why. Mom would have whipped you if you didn’t. 

To my father Lloyd R. Wheatley who I came to know more in his later years than growing up as a child. He was separated from my mother. The last two years of his life I transported him to and from his medical appointments in Baltimore. He died of cancer on my thirty-eighth wedding anniversary. He was 87. 

To my children Faith, Adam and Jennifer how blessed I am to have you all. Each so accomplished in your careers. I am so proud of you. To my wonderful and adorable grand children and great grand children, I have the pleasure of being here spending time with you before I am called home to the Father. I could not have imagined the joy I feel when I’m with you. What a wonderful gift from God.

To my friends Billy, Leroy, Adrian, Darryl from the beginning of my childhood and teens years growing up in the city of Baltimore singing in the Black Movement Band and Singers.  I can’t forget the years we did talent contests, gigs around town, group singing battles on stage against other local groups. Our T.V. appearance on ABC WJZ channel 13 and winning the talent show that night. I remember we thought we shook the world! The fun we had with what I call my 15 minutes of fame. I wouldn’t change a thing. I know a couple of you are still wailing. Maybe we should get the band back together?

To Ava and James Perrine (J.P.) who never stopped supporting me to get out there and get it done. Ava giving me opportunities at the college and on her Talk Radio shows. The many people you two have told about me I know I have at least two fans. I truly love you both.

To Chuck and Linda Groce, never did I ever think of being on a farm with horses and owning one or two. I guess you’re going to take the city out of me eventually.

To Wanola Jackson who always says; I’m going to keep it real. You have been such a good friend and real supporter of this book and the project.

To M. Who is this person and what does the M stand for? Does it mean Mystery? Some Man with secret powers? Maybe a secret spy Mogul? It means none of them. It is Ms. Marilyn Webb an extraordinary professional teacher. A educator of Social Studies, English and my editor who worked endlessly with me on this project. I am so grateful to you. 

Finally to the remainder of my family and friends that lives in Reading Pa., Delaware and Cambridge Maryland. I did not mention each name because there are so many and I did not want to miss anyone. I am eternally grateful for your continued support and friendship over the years. Also to my business associates, without your support there is no way I could do what I do.

God Bless all of you and thank you for letting me be me. I ask that when you think of me it is a will that never quits regardless of what it looks like. Fear is not an option although present at times, rather it’s understood for the reality it creates but doesn’t survive in the final analysis. My attitude is sometimes explained as crazy by some, because there seems to be no possibility of having things changed or made different. It’s hopeless others have said at times of adversity. I was told NO more than I can count. My favorite one that my wife will attest to is; YOU CAN’T DO THAT! Proving them all wrong has been my best work.

I’ve had the pleasure of leading some of the finest men as a Security Specialist Fire Team Leader in the United States Air Force. A Manufacturing Manager and Supervisor in fortune 500 companies, Graduated with honors from colleges and Universities with no personal money. Successful in business for more than twenty years after leaving corporate America, lecture at colleges. Teach adult educational classes in established institutions of learning and now writing books. From where I started in life it didn’t look like I could have done any of this. I always "believed in possibilities" but did not know why. Once I saw it, my spirit was sealed. It’s what I call "An Emotional Significant Event." Once that happens to you permanent things start to happen. You will change in some manner. Here’s what I believe.

(II Cor. Chapter 5 verse 7 KJV) "For we walk by faith and not by sight!"

AMEN!

The Beginning

It is the early 1800’s.  Slavery was at the height of its existence. Little did anyone know that what history would record from this point forward would be so remarkable for the United States? The turmoil, wars, sickness, poverty, prejudices and murders stemming from racial prejudice. The practice of lynching blacks was a common matter of regular daily life in some parts of the union. But, I want to focus on the word used a lot during this period of time, Freedom.

Freedom is a word to talk about. Let me begin to define this word Freedom with the story of our hero that history did not record. Although this is only one story, I’m sure there are plenty more unrecognized figures that should have been.  Let’s explore the possibilities as to why this particular individual was left out of the history books.

It is a very hot summer day in South Carolina. There wasn’t a place people could stand without sweating their clothes through. What little shade there was, as people would say, did no good in the middle of the day. The best things for anyone to do was sit still or rock in a slow swinging settee on the porch and try to catch the smallest breeze. The heat could be so oppressive it made you tired enough to just sleep. Many would be seen napping. That’s what most whites would do. If you were black or as they called you in those days, Negro, you worked during daylight hours in the fields. It was believed that because blacks had such dark skin it was easier for them to work in the sun than a Caucasian.  Most if not all of the slave owners or anyone else for that matter didn’t know, at that time, that this was scientifically true. But, there are limits for anyone having excessive exposure to sun rays. Overexposure did not fair with anyone in those days. If you were black, you worked hard and you better not complain. Complaints would turn into whippings and beatings.

It was this type of mentality that partially inspired me to write the book. I know that if many of today’s blacks were back in this time, with modern 21st century knowledge, the whites would have to fight for their lives. There would be no discussion, no side bar, just in your face beat down. I also know those same blacks would not last too long. But who’s to say, maybe dying for something you believed in was not such a bad idea compared with putting up with being treated at times worse than wild animals. History does show several blacks did have up rises that met with fierce battles and slaughter of many innocent people. This was not one of those times.

So I rationalized about the times. I thought what if there were true Black Heroes? How different would things have been? Yeah, not all minorities were slaves and oppressed. What about the Freedom Fighters, the Underground Railroad, the Buffalo Soldiers, even the infamous Jesse James gang? Jesse had blacks too. Seemed like everyone needed someone who was good at what they did regardless of their skin color. This fact does play out in today society as well as gender neutrality at times. There is hope in progress.

U.S. history has failed to record that the Europeans after being educated in science, literature and castle construction, not to mention being liberated from their own stench living conditions instituted a system against the very people who helped them. The Europeans at the time were also known for having a poor ability to manage sickness and disease because they knew nothing about medicines and personal hygiene. They had all of their live stock and chickens living in the house with them. This made it very easy for diseases to take hold of humans. Corrals were eventually brought to their attention. Their change from those deplorable conditions only came about when the Moors came into Europe in 711 till January 1492. The reason it ended in 1492 is because the Europeans became ungrateful toward the very people that helped them and began claiming the Moors things as theirs. That’s why we hear from the Europeans today and it has been taught in our schools for years that Christopher Columbus discovered the Americas in 1492. This also is far from the actual truth. Civilized societies of West Africa had been coming and going from the Americas long before the Europeans and any thought of Christopher Columbus. There are maps drawn by those early explores known as the Moors in the museum of science today verifying this fact.

What European whites are really known for was their introduction of racism also referred to as White Supremacy into the modern society around 1600 or so. This was substantiated by their unwavering habit of going to other countries and capturing or wiping out hundreds of people of color and shipping them to other parts of the world. Once they arrived at these places they sold people as slaves to the highest bidder. Their cultural superior attitude was often times mistakenly touted as being intellectual.  It was only intellectual in the minds of the oppressors. Their dominating trait sometimes met with resistance with many ships full of blacks on the seas. There were rebellions where the blacks overpowered the owners of the ships and tried to return back to their home land. They unfortunately were very poor navigators with no training of sailing a ship. The ships were lost at sea during storms. One such ship did survive and was called the freedom schooner. It is best known as The Amistad.

Large plantations in the south required many slaves to operate. Slave owners such as the McCoy’s & Hanna’s to name a couple would work together to maximize their way of life and increase their personal wealth. One such plantation was owned by the Hanna’s in North Carolina. It was a tobacco and cotton plantation. The McCoy’s were known to have the most trained and strong slaves. The reputation for having the best was known throughout the county. The McCoy’s were very proud of their reputation. They would sell and trade top dollar for their slaves. Barter was also in the equation not to mention sex for white men in their mansions when necessary.

One of the McCoy’s best slaves was named Caleb. He was brought to the Hanna plantation to work in the fields, picking tobacco on those hot humid days. Caleb was eighteen years old at the time. His father and mother were sold to another plantation by the McCoy’s. The practice of separating families was a regular thing. Caleb could remember when his parents were sold. He was fifteen years old and knew that he would never forget his parents. How miserable he had felt, watching his father beg the McCoy’s not to split up his family. The McCoy’s pushed him to the ground and disrespected him by physical slapping him in the face and yelling foul abusive language by two or more men towering over him. This was done in front of Caleb, his siblings and mother. They continued to taunt and mock his father while he was on the ground holding his hand over the wounds to his mouth and face where he was struck. This was meant to assure those slaves watching that this will happen to you if you question our authority.

Yeah, Caleb never forgot the day. He would often not speak for long periods of time, all the while learning to read. He did not want the slave owners to know he could speak and read English properly. The McCoy’s kept young Caleb because he was very strong and physically well built. At the beginning of his adulthood, Caleb stood approximately six feet two inches tall and weighed 220 pounds. His biceps, chest, legs and thighs were like a classic early Roman god sculpture. Skin dark and evenly smooth, he was the proud possession of the McCoy’s. His strength was something to marvel at.  He would often pick up heavy objects with ease. Most people would chop wood for a fire. Caleb would just grab a branch up to eight inches in diameter and snap it into pieces by yanking it across his raised thigh. If only he had been this size at fifteen years old. Maybe things would have been different when they beat his father. Caleb was obedient, like most slaves, but he knew one day he would have to leave. He didn’t realize that his time was coming very soon to depart the area permanently. He was not aware he would be the beginning part of a story showcasing the struggles of blacks in a book.

The McCoy’s would bring their slaves to the Hanna plantation to help with the harvesting of crops as it took many hands and strong backs. Bundles of tobacco were picked up one bundle at a time by human hands as machines did not exist at the time for mass production. The bundles were tossed up on a horse drawn and sometimes slave drawn wagons. The constant grabbing, pulling and swinging of the cutting blades would make your wrists and arms ache with pain by the end of the day. This would not stop slave owners. They kept pushing and pushing the slaves. Some would drop from exhaustion. Once they did, the sound of a whip would crack the air forcing the slave up to their feet and on again. It made no difference to the plantation owners how they harvested. Harvest time meant money and money was all that mattered.

Caleb worked in the fields with other slaves. At the end of the day Caleb would report back to the yard of the main house. He would sit by the tree in the front of the main house and wait to be picked up by his owners. Caleb would always be alone because he was the only one from the McCoy’s plantation and slave owners did not like to see young blacks mingling together. Whites feared they were up to no good or some trouble may start by them talking to one another. (The funny thing is, in today’s society and in certain circles we still have in this exact perception about black men.)

One particular afternoon the work had finished before schedule because the harvesting had finally come to an end. As the workers cleaned up the area and began to go home, Caleb sat under the tree like he always did waiting to be picked up. While sitting there, he heard a moaning sound coming from the barn area. The barn was positioned on the left side of the main house next to the woods. On a regular work day there would be too much noise from the horses, harnesses and tobacco cutting blades. Since all of this had stopped it was quiet enough to hear the slightest sound riding on the wind. Caleb rose to his feet and went toward the barn to see what was going on. As he reached the barn he became fearful of opening the front doors, so he went to the back. He knelt down to a small opening at the bottom. As he peered through a small crack into the barn he was surprised by what he saw.

Caleb’s eyes widened as he saw Mr. Hanna’s daughter dressed like a southern belle and smiling somewhat naughtily at a man. As Caleb continued to watch, the man began to poke and pull at her clothes. She would just giggle slightly and push his hands away only long enough to see him try to grab her clothes again.  She would try to look very innocent but she would often bait him to try some more. The man apparently got a little rough and managed to tear a strap of her dress. When this happened, they both paused for a second and looked at the condition of her dress. They looked at each other with lust in their eyes, breathing heavily with anticipation of sexual passion. His hands began to pull her dress up from the floor, reaching for her undergarments. He pulled them down very hastily. She whispered in a soft and very submissive southern accent,