The Devil's Highway Read online

  The black woman cried out again, “Miz Martha, it’s Miz Hannah!”

  Hannah ran to her mother and threw her arms around her waist. Her mother grabbed Hannah’s shoulders and held her at arm’s length. She stared at Hannah’s clothes and shorn hair and then at her upturned face. She collapsed to her knees, throwing her arms around her daughter. Pulling back, she sobbed, “We thought we would never see you again.” She hugged Hannah again, squeezing as if she were afraid to let go.

  They were both crying. Hannah patted her mother’s back.

  “It’s all right, Mama, I’m home.”

  “Oh, Hannah, I was so scared you were dead. I missed you terribly,” her mother said, wiping her hand across her eyes.

  Hannah’s mother didn’t seem to notice Zeb. She took a big breath and got to her feet. She wiped a tear away from her cheek. “Let’s go see your father,” she said. “He has been feeling poorly ever since we got back to Washington. I know that this is just the medicine he needs.”

  She pulled Hannah against her hip, patting her back and running her fingers through Hannah’s shaggy hair. Then she took Hannah’s hand, turned, and walked quickly and quietly into the house. Hannah looked back at Zeb and waved at him to follow them.

  Hannah’s mother opened a door to what looked to be a laboratory. A tall, lean man was sitting at a table, looking through a microscope. Zeb could hear Hannah’s mother talking quietly to her husband, “Sam. Sam. Hannah is here. She’s all right. It really is Hannah.”

  The man turned his head. He looked almost annoyed. “What did you say?”

  “It’s Hannah!” her mother cried out. “She’s here! She’s all right!”

  The man slowly stood up and squinted at their silhouettes in the bright sunlight from the open door. He seemed to be much older than Hannah’s mother.

  Hannah ran to him. “Father! I’m home,” she said, hugging his waist.

  He looked down at her, frowning as if struggling to guard himself against more pain and hurt. He, too, ran his fingers through her short hair. After a moment, he held her shoulders and looked at her upturned face.

  She grinned up at him. “Father! It’s me!”

  His eyes searched her face. Then he hugged her tightly. “Hannah, my Hannah! It is you.” He closed his eyes. “Thank you, Lord,” he cried.

  Zeb backed out of the house and stood with Sarah on the porch. She rubbed her eyes and said, “I better go in and stir up a little somethin’ special for dinner.” She looked in at Hannah and her parents.

  Christmas stomped a front hoof, switching his tail from one side to the other against the flies. “I guess I’ll go unsaddle the horses and take those packs off,” Zeb said. “They’ve been working hard.”

  Sarah nodded, standing in the doorway and dabbing her eyes with her apron. Zeb led the horses to the barn in back.

  There were two other horses in the stables, but neither looked like what he had come to expect of Suba. He welcomed the familiar smells of the clean horse barn: old cedar wood, hay and straw, horse feed, the sweat of horses, fresh manure, leather saddles and bridles, saddle soap.

  He untacked Christmas and Harlequin and took the packs off Kapucha. He watered and fed them and then brushed their matted coats. Automatically, as if he were home in Franklin doing his daily chores, he shoveled the fresh manure into a wooden wheelbarrow.

  With the chores done, he sat down and leaned against the stable wall. Zeb was tired, and he knew the big horse must be exhausted too. It would be better to stay overnight, he thought, but I can’t wait that long. Christmas lowered his head until his soft nostrils touched Zeb’s cheek. Zeb reached up and put his hand gently over the horse’s muzzle. “Well, Christmas,” he said, “we’ve brought Hannah home. Soon’s we get a little rest, we’ll head out for Natchez. We can be there by nightfall.”

  He could feel the horse’s warm breath on his face and neck. “Grampa’s hiding out someplace,” he said in a low voice. “He doesn’t want Tate McPhee and his men to know he’s alive. I just hope we can find him before it’s too late. Get some rest now, Christmas. We may have a dangerous time ahead of us in Natchez Under-the-Hill.”

  Zeb leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

  To be continued in …

  Natchez

  Under-the-Hill

  The fast-paced adventures of Zeb and Hannah continue in this sequel to THE DEVIL’S HIGHWAY.

  Zeb encounters unexpected dangers as he tries to uncover clues to his grandfather’s whereabouts. Pursued by his enemies and surrounded by the gamblers and thieves who inhabit Natchez Under-the-Hill, Zeb doesn’t know whom to trust.

  Author’s Note

  What is the Natchez Trace, and where is it?

  This story takes place in 1811 along the Natchez Trace, a five hundred mile long buffalo and Indian trail threading through the wilderness from Nashville to Natchez. The Natchez Trace became a post road when the Chickasaw and Choctaw Indians signed a treaty with President Jefferson in 1801. The U.S. Army was assigned the task of clearing the trail. It worked on the trail for two years but was able to complete only half the job because the trail had so many low, swampy areas and was so heavily overgrown. At the time of this story, the Natchez Road was the most heavily traveled, and the most dangerous, highway in America.

  At that time, the highway was called the Natchez Road by those heading south, and that is how it is referred to in this book. People moving north on the highway often called it the Nashville Road or the Boatmen’s Trail, and some called it the Chickasaw Trace. The name was changed officially in the 1830s to the Natchez Trace, and that is what it is called today.

  Who traveled the Natchez Trace?

  Merchants and flatboaters were the most frequent users of the trail during the time of this story. They would take the trail north on the return leg of their journey.

  This section of the trail, near milepost 45.7, shows how narrow the roadway was and how steep its banks

  The best way south was down the rivers to Natchez. Merchants (and farmers) who lived along the remote western frontier wanted to sell their goods and produce in the cities along the southern Mississippi River. Because the Natchez Road wasn’t wide or smooth enough for wagons, and because shipping heavy loads by flatboat was much less costly than by wagon, the merchants chose to use the rivers to transport their goods to Natchez. They would hire crews and build flatboats on the Cumberland, Ohio, or Mississippi Rivers and float their heavy loads up to one thousand miles down the rivers to Natchez, where they sold their goods. They would then break apart the boats and sell the wood as lumber for the homes and buildings in Natchez. Then the merchants and the flatboaters would make their way, on foot or on horseback, back up to Nashville on the Natchez Trace to start the process all over again.

  Near the time of this story, many prominent Americans also used the Natchez Trace. Meriwether Lewis, just a few years after returning from his expedition to the Pacific Ocean with William Clark, died of a gunshot wound at the Grinder Stand in October 1809. Andrew Jackson traveled the route frequently, first as a merchant and later, during the War of 1812, as commander of army troops. And, in the 1820s, John James Audubon taught at the women’s college in Washington, Mississippi, and traveled the highway frequently.

  Merchants and flatboaters used the Natchez Trace heavily until steam-powered paddlewheel boats enabled them to travel up as well as down the strong currents of the Mississippi River and its tributaries.

  Who worked the flatboats?

  At first, poor farmers and frontiersmen worked as flatboaters. These men were known as Kaintucks, although they were not necessarily from Kentucky. The term was used to refer to mostly uneducated, illiterate backwoodsmen. Later, many of these men became professional boaters who dedicated themselves to moving goods down the Mississippi River. They were rough and ready for hard work, hard drinking, gambling, or a fight. Their pay was about forty or fifty dollars a trip, which they often spent before they left Natchez.

  What were the d
ifficulties and dangers on the trail?

  Swamps and mud holes made the trail impassable at times. Insects carried debilitating and often fatal diseases. Travelers were attacked by snakes, bears, and cougars, and in the southern portions of the trail, by alligators. Bands of outlaws roamed the trail, knowing that the returning merchants often carried thousands of dollars in gold and silver, and that the returning boaters had whatever was left of their fifty-dollar pay. The outlaws hid in the forest and robbed and murdered the travelers.

  A cypress swamp near milepost 122 on the Trace.

  The merchants and flatboaters traveled up the trail in large groups for protection. It was well known that anyone who traveled alone on the trail was seldom seen or heard from again.

  Where were travelers able to stay along the trail?

  As the number of people traveling the Natchez Trace increased, inns were built along the way. Most of these were simple stands, often not much more than a lean-to with worn and tattered bearskins covering the dirt floor. Letters from early travelers described most of the stands as terrible, stinking, dirty places, and the little food available was often spoiled, rotten, and crawling with insects.

  A log cabin typical of the kind travelers might have found along the Natchez Road.

  Some of the inns were the farmhouses of settlers. A few of them were quite nice, such as the Jocelyn farm; others were simple log cabins. One of the stands, the Mount Locust Inn, was very comfortable. It still stands today, the last stop on the Trace before Natchez.

  Colbert’s Stand, a two-story wooden house, was eventually destroyed by fire, leaving only the stone chimney.

  Colbert’s Stand, operated by George Colbert on the north side of the Tennessee River, and the Buzzards Inn, operated by Levi Colbert on the south side of the river, were very expensive. The Colbert brothers were well known for their exorbitant prices. George Colbert was reported to have charged the U.S. Army $75,000 to ferry men across the Tennessee River. (The ferries he used were flatboats that had been given to him by the army!)

  Were there really that many passenger pigeons in one place?

  Yes. The passenger pigeons described at Pigeon Roost migrated to that spot every year. Travelers of the time reported that flocks of these birds would darken the sky. Hundreds would gather on the branches of the tall trees, and one gunshot could kill dozens of birds. The birds were shot for food and for sport. Shooting the pigeons at Pigeon Roost continued until the late 1800s, when the passenger pigeon population had dwindled to just a few hundred. The passenger pigeon is now extinct, the last one having died in 1914.

  Colbert’s Ferry at the Tennessee River was the only way across that wide, sometimes of thousands of birds very swift, stretch of water.

  What Indians lived near the trail?

  The Natchez Trace cut through Chickasaw territory in the north and Choctaw territory in the south. Even though the Natchez Trace went through their territories, the Indians seldom threatened the thousands of whites traveling along the route.

  The two tribes were related but had split several generations before this story took place. The Choctaw wished to remain peaceful and agricultural, but the Chickasaw were roaming hunters. The Chickasaw became known for their independence and aggression, especially against the Creek Indians.

  Today, young people of the Choctaw living on their ancestral lands near the Trace still play the traditional games passed along by their elders.

  In 1830 the U.S. government forced most of the Choctaw to move with the Chickasaw, Creek, and Cherokee across the Mississippi River. Their Trail of Tears took them to the new Indian territories in what is now Arkansas and Oklahoma. The word oklahoma means “red man” in Choctaw.

  A small band of Choctaw, however, still remains in Philadelphia, Mississippi, not far from the Natchez Trace. The Choctaw there have struggled to maintain their cultural heritage. The young people learn the Choctaw language as well as English in school. They learn the ancient Choctaw dances and music, using the flutes and drums of their ancestors. And they still play ishtaboli, the Choctaw version of lacrosse. They have created an excellent museum on Choctaw history and folklore that is open to the public.

  Does the Natchez Trace still exist?

  Yes. The narrow dirt highway and the deep unspoiled forest on each side of it have been preserved as a national park. We can drive through the forest from Nashville to Natchez on a quiet paved road parallel to the Natchez Trace. Campgrounds

  The Natchez Trace Parkway, quiet and scenic today, roughly follows the original post road.

  are numerous along the route. The U.S. National Park Service maintains a Welcome Center on the Trace at Tupelo, Mississippi, that offers maps and other materials about the Natchez Trace.

  To request a free color map of the Natchez Trace Parkway and the old Natchez Trace, call the park service at 800-305-7417, or see the parkway’s website at www.nps.gov/natr. The mileage in the map on the inside front cover and on the mileposts shown at the beginning of each chapter of THE DEVIL’S HIGHWAY correspond to those in the parkway map and on the parkway itself. All of the sites in the book can be found on the map.

  This National Park Service symbol identifies the Natchez Trace Parkway.

  Interested in helping to preserve our national parks?

  Write to

  The National Parks and Conservation Association 1776 Massachusetts Avenue, NW Washington, DC 20036