Missing Trust: Screams of the Wildcat

By Gigi

Home to many people before us, the land has a history all its own. The trials and tribulations suffered by the occupants of the ground, that we temporarily call our own, is forever etched into that history. What secrets does the land hold? The Jackson family is about to find out.

It is 1831 when Andrew and Mahalia Jackson and their six children homestead the land that lies north of Wildcat Creek. Twenty years have passed since the Myaamia tribe called this place their home. After they build a cabin and barn near the woods, the family hears strange noises at night. Andrew tries to pass it off as the wind or animals, but Mahalia fears the forest is haunted and believes her daughter, Lucinda, is cursed. As a big black cat watches over her domain from high in the trees as her father had asked of the Great Mysterious, the Jackson family soon discovers that no one owns the ground forever. The curse is as real as the spirits who remain. As time passes, how many other families will make the same discovery?

Missing Trust is a tale of the land that overlooks Wildcat Creek, the curse of an old Indian, and the families who attempt to carve out a life, despite the devastating events that befall them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Dec 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781480899339

Book preview

Copyright © 2020 gigi.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means,

graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by

any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author

except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.archwaypublishing.com

844-669-3957

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in

this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views

expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the

views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are

models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-4808-9932-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-9933-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020922677

Archway Publishing rev. date: 12/15/2020

INTRODUCTION

Think about being a young girl growing up on the farm in the 1950’s and 1960’s. It was a hard yet very fulfilling life. Social distancing was the norm, not due to a worldwide pandemic. Farming was not an easy way to make a living. Everyone on the farm earns their keep, children and animals included. If you don’t pull your weight, you get sent up to the yard or off to the sale barn. It is up to you.

Farm kids start working when they are very young. From an early age I realized that the farm supports you financially, but the connection with the land goes much deeper. It becomes a part of you that never leaves. You can leave the farm, but the farm never leaves you. What you learn on the farm never goes away. Common sense and how to solve a problem with what you have are lessons learned early on.

This story is as old as Cain and Able. Greed, jealousy, coveting property, adultery, theft, dishonesty and even murder. Love and loyalty versus hate and deception. It has proven to be a part of so many farm family legacies. It is also a story of strong women who prevail. Women who become wildcats.

The land has a history all its own. The trials and tribulations suffered by the occupants of the ground, that we temporarily call our own, is forever etched into that history. It was home to many people before us. It will be home to many people after we are gone. What secrets does the land hold?

I loved the farm and I loved my grandparents who owned the farm. Thank God for my Grandparents; They saved me. My life totally changed the day they gave me a flock of sheep. Somehow, everything in my life still goes back to my experience with those beautiful animals.

The story I’m about to tell is a work of fiction loosely based on a true story. I am well aware that we all view things differently, through the eyes we are given, due to our past experiences. This is my version of the missing trust.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1     Wildcat

Chapter 2     The Jackson Family

Chapter 3     The Mckinneys

Chapter 4     Leap Of Faith

Chapter 5     The Flock

Chapter 6     Death Of Innocence And Trust

Chapter 7     Wheels

Chapter 8     Mom And Dad

Chapter 9     If It’s Worth Doing…It’s Worth Overdoing

Chapter 10   New Start

Chapter 11   High Life

Chapter 12   Mom’s Strength And Steady Hand

Chapter 13   North Gate

Chapter 14   Old Age Ain’t For Sissies

Chapter 15   The Gold Dust Twins

Part 1:  Goldie

Part 2:  Dustie

Chapter 16   Beauty School Drop Out

Chapter 17   On The Road

Chapter 18   Movin’ On Up

Chapter 19   Bankers Patents And Trademarks

Chapter 20   Missing Trust

Chapter 21   Blue Death

Chapter 22   Lawyers Are A Necessary Evil

Chapter 23   Let The Games Begin

Chapter 24   Karma

One

WILDCAT

T he chief awoke early as he always did. He stepped out along the ridge that overlooked the bottom land. The early morning fog shielded the creek from sight, but he could hear it flowing. He surveyed the small camps of tribesmen scattered below. It was becoming too dangerous for the whole tribe to be camped together, so they separated into small groups. Extended family units lived together. Each group had a look out up in the tall sycamore trees that alerted all the other camps to any threats.

The Myaamia (Miami) tribe traded with coureur de bois (French for half breed trapper) of Canada who called the chief Le blanc chat sauvage (The White Wildcat) because of his white hair. He also called him Pere Indien (Father Indian). The trapper’s language was a mixture of French, English and Native tongue. The old trader had been a friend to the tribe for many years.

During a fasting dream vision quest White Wildcat found his guardian spirit during his rite of passage from boy to brave. As a young man, he had returned to the village with white hair and wisdom far beyond his years. Overnight his hair had changed from raven black to white. The vision was so traumatic that he never told anyone what he saw. The elders of the tribe knew his vision was the future of their people. They thought him to be the wise one and sought his counsel.

Life was changing. The white man was coming too close. They were trapping animals for their fur. The soldiers were making their way through the territory. The white man did not understand that the Great Mysterious would provide what was needed.

They wanted it all. And they were willing to take it. The natives believed that the land belonged to no one. The earth, the sky and the water belonged to everyone. Their tribe had been there for many years, unthreatened except for a few small skirmishes with other tribes. White Wildcat knew the time would come when his sons and all of the young braves would be called upon to fight.

As the sun rose and the low hanging clouds disappeared, he remembered his time as a child. The land had been good to his people. There was always plenty to eat and fresh running water.

His children were born there and now they were nearly grown. His four sons were strong, and he had taught them how to survive. Each was named after whatever animal he had seen after their births. Grey Fox was the eldest, followed by Coyote, Badger and Hawk. He was proud of his sons, but his heart was captured by his only daughter, Little Fawn. A spotted fawn had wandered into the camp just after she was born. She was a beautiful child with lots of dark hair and beautiful brown eyes. She was born with an impatient, demanding temperament.

Little Fawn, from an early age, made clear that she never wanted to be a squaw. She wanted to be a brave like her brothers. She played with the young braves and learned how to shoot a bow and arrow as well as any of them. She could ride bareback along-side anyone in the tribe.

Her mother begged her to learn the ways of the women in the tribe, but Little Fawn would slip away and climb the tallest trees to watch for the enemy. When she ran, her long black hair floated in the wind behind her like the mane of a pony. She was so quiet that she always surprised her brothers with a sneak attack.

She knew how to hunt and fish. She had no interest in grinding corn for a meal or sewing a hide. That was squaws’ work. Her father pleaded with her to learn what she needed to know to raise a family. She always won the arguments and returned to running with the braves. Her mother cautioned her husband that this would bring no good to his daughter.

Scouts had come through the camp, telling of preparation for a great war. That war would later be known as the Battle of Tippecanoe. Up north, Tecumseh had gathered several tribes to fight the white soldiers. He had left his brother Prophet in charge of his tribe while he was recruiting young braves to fight. White Wildcat spoke to his sons and cautioned them about Prophet and his willingness to defy Tecumseh’s orders to wait until he returned with more braves.

The old trader rode through and told the tribe that a regiment of soldiers was making their way up the creek and would be there in a few days. White Wildcat knew he had to dispatch the young braves to ride west and stop the soldiers before they reached their camps. Several braves in war paint rode west along the creek early in the morning. A few hours after they rode out, Little Fawn’s parents realized that she was nowhere to be found. They knew she had ridden out with her brothers.

The plan was to climb the highest oak trees along the creek. A few braves would be sent to taunt the soldiers. An ambush awaited the them as they followed the braves into the ravine. Four miles west of their camps, the braves climbed the trees in a steep ravine along the running water and waited. They were armed with bows and arrows. They knew unless they surprised the soldiers, they would not survive the long guns. They were camouflaged and partially shielded by the tree limbs.

The soldiers rode along the steep creek slopes slowly. They were watching the ground and did not expect an attack from above. The braves quietly waited until the last horseman was in sight, and then unleashed a barrage of arrows.

Soldiers were falling from their horses like acorns falling from an oak tree. Hardly a shot was fired. Hawk was on a branch above Little Fawn. An officer with a pistol shot upwards as his horse reared up. The lead ball hit near Hawk and caused him to lose his balance. He fell several feet and hit Little Fawn, throwing her to the ground. One of the soldiers grabbed her and ran to his horse with her in tow. The soldiers retreated back to their camp dragging Little Fawn behind their horses.

The braves waited until dusk before they climbed down and rode out to warn their tribe. Grey Fox stayed behind. He knew that Little Fawn was strong. He also knew that the white man had no respect for his people. They believed the natives to be savages…animals.

The soldiers were efficient at torturing and killing. He knew that if there was a chance of saving his sister, he would have to wait until they tired of tormenting her and drank themselves to sleep.

Darkness fell and Grey Fox watched from a hill above the soldiers’ camp. He could barely see her small body tied between two trees. As night came and the soldiers became drunker, Little Fawn’s moans and whimpers became screams of defiance and pain. He knew she faced a peril no brave would ever face.

He knew the white men would use her body for their pleasure. He knew they would inflict as much brutal pain as they could. He knew she would never be the same if she survived. Still he hoped that he could retrieve her and take her back to camp to heal.

The soldiers packed up and left early the following morning. They headed north to Battle Ground where they would fight the Indians under Prophet’s command. Grey Fox waited until all the soldiers were gone. He watched as many of them spit on the motionless girl still hanging between two trees. He looked to the sky and begged the Great Mysterious to keep breath in her body.

When it was safe, he made his way to the soldier’s camp. Little Fawn was stripped of her clothes and her dignity. Her body was bruised, bloody, broken and burned. Her long, black hair was gone. Her eyes were still. He knew she was gone. It broke his heart to think of his return to his tribe carrying his sister. He knew it would destroy his father. The guilt and sadness welled up in his throat. His need for revenge was overwhelming.

Grey Fox cut her down and wrapped her body in a blanket that his mother had woven for his horse. He rode into camp with Little Fawn draped across his lap. His father was waiting. He knew there was little hope that his daughter would return to him alive. He thought that he had possibly lost two of his children. He was glad to see Grey Fox alive but fell to his knees and wept when he saw Little Fawn’s lifeless body.

He carefully carried her inside the wigwam. Her mother collapsed when she saw her daughter and wailed. It was a guttural sound that Father Indian had never heard her make before.

The squaws cleaned Little Fawn’s body and carefully dressed her in her finest buck skin dress. Then they wrapped her in her favorite woven blanket. She was placed high in the old oak tree for her ascent to the great beyond. Her body would feed the very nature that she loved, and she would forever be a part of the land.

It was late November and the snow was falling. It covered Little Fawn’s body. Her father wept openly as he looked to the sky and called out to the Great Mysterious and his people. I am Little Fawn’s father. My daughter was a brave warrior. Her time here was too short. Great one, give her new life. Give her the body of a cat so she can hunt and climb trees. Give her fur as black as the crow, like her hair was. Let her remain here in the land she loved. Give her strength to protect what she holds dear.

I curse these lands. I curse the men with the pale skin, light hair and eyes who destroy our land and our children. They carry a book in one hand that they call the Good Book and pray to a spirit they call their God. They carry long guns in their other hand. Their greed will destroy our world. The skies will turn dark and the water will run foul and kill the fish. They will hunt our animals until there are no more…all to feed their greed. They will claim that their great spirit told them to do these things and they will feel no remorse.

He faced north, east, south and west. He held his hands high and looked to the heavens. He cursed every piece of land that he could see. He spit on the ground as the tears rolled down his face.

My people have been driven from their home. The white man will come and own the ground that no man should own. The land belongs to the Great Mysterious. The land belongs to no man. The land belongs to all men and every living creature.

I curse every white man who will ever claim this land. I curse the daughters and sons of every white man who claims this land. They will suffer unspeakable pain as my daughter did. No family will ever hold this land for long. They will be driven from their homes the way we are being driven from our home. There will always be fighting. There will never be peace. There will be great tragedy and sickness and loss of children. They will suffer ten-fold what my people have suffered forever.

White Wildcat was the last of his tribe to ride out of the camp. The snow was getting deep and the wind howled. It was a violent snowstorm that immediately covered their tracks. He turned to a sound that he had never heard before. There in a tall sycamore tree along the banks of the creek was a large black cougar lying on a branch watching over her domain. He smiled and with that the tribe literally disappeared. They did not go north to fight in Prophet’s war. They just vanished. No one knows what happened to them.

For many years people have reported sounds of a woman screaming along the banks of what is now known as Wildcat Creek. The explanation has been that there is a large black cougar that roams the area and makes that sound.

Little Fawn rests on top of the ridge overlooking Wildcat Creek, the running water of her forefathers, that was named for her. She knows the land was there long before we came, and it will be there long after we are gone.

Two

THE JACKSON FAMILY

T he abstract read like a family history. Andrew Jackson, Mahalia and their six children homesteaded the land that lay north of Wildcat Creek in 1831. They probably thought this ground would be in their family forever. It was important to keep records for future generations.

Twenty years had passed since the Myaamia tribe had called this place their home. For twenty years the big black cat prowled the ridge, roaming up and down the running water undisturbed. She watched over her domain from high in the trees as her father had asked of the Great Mysterious.

There had been a few humans who had passed through, unaware that she was watching them. Now there were children in her forest. She was cautious when humans were nearby, but she was drawn to the children playing in the meadow under the old oak tree.

She watched as they chased each other and longed to climb down and play with them, but they were not her kind. So, she watched them from above, undetected. Glimpses of her childhood haunted her memories and her dreams. She vaguely recalled playing in the meadow and climbing trees with her brothers.

The Jacksons built a log cabin and a small barn near the woods. They heard strange noises at night. Andrew explained it away by telling his family that it was the wind or an animal. Mahalia was not convinced. Chills ran down her spine every time she heard those agonizing sounds. She believed that the forest was haunted. She begged Andrew to build a house closer to the dirt road on the north end of their property.

Andrew harvested trees from the woods and the work horses pulled the timber to the new location. It was a daunting task to build a home with little help. Mahalia forbade the children to play in the woods except when Andrew was with them.

Andrew Jr. and Lucinda were the eldest children. They found arrow heads and grinding stones in the woods. Mahalia insisted they return them to the ridge where they found them. She was afraid of Indians, although she had never seen any in that area. She considered them savages, capable of doing great harm to her children.

Mahalia was a righteous, pious woman with strong convictions and many superstitions. She viewed life as black and white, right and wrong. Because of that she wondered what sin she was guilty of to spawn a daughter like Lucinda.

Mahalia thought Lucinda was cursed. She said that her daughter had fits. Her body would stiffen and fall as she gnashed her teeth. Mahalia was convinced that the devil resided in her. As Lucinda grew older, the episodes grew stronger and lasted longer. Mahalia hid Lucinda whenever anyone stopped by.

Andrew finally finished the new house with the help of a few neighbors and a good team of horses. It was a good house built with the logs from the woods. It had three rooms. Mahalia was pleased that she had a proper home for her children. She planted a garden and bought a cow and six chickens.

Feeding six children was a fulltime job. Life with no running water close by was hard. Andrew set to digging a well, but in the meantime he and the children went to the stream in the woods every day to fetch fresh water for their family and livestock. The woods made Mahalia uneasy, but Andrew was drawn there by the game, berries and water. He felt at home there. He loved sitting on the ridge overlooking the creek and listening to the running water.

The third year they were in the new house, Andrew, three of the boys and their youngest daughter became ill. Their condition rapidly worsened. Mahalia cared for her family the best she knew how. She sent word into town for the Doctor to come, but before he could get there Andrew passed away, followed by his four children, all under the age of eleven.

Mahalia, Andrew Jr. and Lucinda were left to deal with burying the rest of their family. Mahalia was a believer. She prayed for the protection of her family. Why had God forsaken her in her hour of need? Why did God leave Lucinda, her afflicted child, here and take her healthy children?

Mahalia chose a plot at the top of the ridge in the woods overlooking the Wildcat Creek. She knew it was a place that Andrew loved. She and her surviving children took their family members, one by one, to their final resting place. She put up a wrought iron fence around the graveyard.

Mahalia never visited the gravesite again, although she knew it would also be her final resting place. She would rest next to her beloved Andrew and her four beautiful children. The big cat watched from high in the old oak tree. She did not understand why these people dug holes in the ground and put their loved ones in the dirt.

Life was hard enough before, but it seemed impossible for Mahalia, Andrew Jr. and Lucinda to do the work that Andrew had done. Mahalia knew she had to find help. She looked for a hired hand to live in but could not find a man to hire. Most men in the area had their own farms and families to look after. She went to visit her sister in Ohio to see if she could find someone there.

While Mahalia was gone, Andrew Jr. and his cousin pulled all of Lucinda’s teeth and put axel grease on her gums. Lucinda was the target of Andrew’s cruelty. He was ashamed of his sister. He and Mahalia were convinced that Lucinda was possessed. She surely had the devil inside of her for her body to stiffen and jerk the way it did. Mahalia was convinced that redemption would come if they beat the demons out of the girl. She and Andrew Jr. did not spare the rod. Mahalia condoned his brutal behavior.

When Mahalia returned to the farm, she had a large dark man with her. His name was Ben Black. As the buggy pulled up, Ben saw Andrew beating Lucinda with a horse whip. Andrew called out to Mahalia that he was fighting the demons. Lucinda’s body was rigid, and her eyes rolled back in her head as she fell. Ben jumped down from the buggy and shoved Andrew aside. Mahalia called to Ben to stop. She said, Let the boy go. God will redeem him for driving the devil from her.

Ben realized that Andrew and Mahalia were convinced that it was the right thing to do to punish Lucinda for sins that were not her making. Ben called out to Mahalia, It is not a boy’s job to punish his sister. Keep his hands clean and let me do this. I am stronger. The demons will not possess me. I can work on her and the boy will keep his righteous soul. Leave her to me.

Mahalia seemed relieved and agreed to allow Ben to take Andrew’s place. Ben picked Lucinda up and carried her to the barn. He laid her on straw until she came around. When Lucinda regained consciousness, she was frightened by the large dark man who stood over her. Ben held out his hand and helped her to her feet. He explained who he was and what he saw. He told her that she could trust him.

Ben assured her that he would be taking care not to hurt her, but Mahalia and Andrew must never know. She would have to pretend that she was being punished to rid her of the demons. She would have to go along and never tell a soul.

I been beat and whipped in my life, Miss Lucinda. I won’t hurt you. I know about pain and punishment. The stripes on his back told the story.

Ben worked hard on the farm. Mahalia was pleased. Many neighbors thought Mahalia bought Ben, but she contended that he was a free man, a hired hand. It would never do for a good Christian woman to be a slave owner. Her loyalties would later align with the Union. Many also speculated that Ben kept Mahalia’s bed warm at night. That was also not true. Her soul was far more valuable to her than her urges of nature.

Ben worked all day, ate