Lott, everything goes. You can hit each other with them sticks. You can bite and slug the hell out of them. I mean the Choctaws on the other side, that is. And I did! I beat the hell out of droves of them. I was knockin’ them out faster than they could tote them off. I knowed I broke two of thems leg. I was the hero, Lott! Our clan won and we got our bets. Look at all this stuff we won. Damn! It was some kind of fun. If’n the good Lord wants me in heaven, he better have some of these kinds of games up there.”
That afternoon Jake had finally calmed down and was sitting on the front porch letting Lott clean and dress some of his wounds when Lott began to reveal something that he knew would anger and disturb his brother.
“Jake, we had a visitor today, a Mister Williams.”
“So what,” answered Jake. “What’d he want?”
“He came here to claim his land and wanted me to show him to the place,” continued Lott.
“I hope you kicked him out of here, Big Brother. We don’t need that kind ‘round here. Hell! We’ll run them all out. Everyone that comes in here.”
“Jake, we can’t do that. They have their legal rights, and they bought their land,” Lott said. “And the Williams seem to be good folk. They said lots of settlers would be comin’ in here in a few days. You understand what I’m saying?”
Jake picked up the chair where he had been sitting and slung it across the porch. “Damn them folks! They ain’t nothin’ but a bunch of sons of bitches. I hate ‘em all! I wish you hadn’t told me,” shouted Jake, going into his bedroom and almost slamming the door down.
Lott knew it would be useless to try to reason with his brother right now. He would stay away from him until the next morning.
Lott sadly contemplated the change that would bring their time as the sole white inhabitants in this virgin timberland, living in harmony with nature and these remarkable Native Americans, to an end. Soon he would hear the sound of axes as the forest would be cleared for farming and the smell of smoke as these magnificent timbers would be stacked and burned.
He also knew he would hear the sounds of gunshots causing the large herds of deer and flocks of turkeys to vanish from the hills and hollows that had for centuries protected and nourished them.
Lott prayed to God, “What will become of these wonderful, peaceful people who have been such diligent keepers of this land. I can’t imagine a future for them here. We going to need yore help Lord.”
SETTLEMENT BEGINS
As Mccorkle predicted, owners began to arrive daily to claim their property. By mid-May, 1834, the Wilsons could not find enough time to tend their own farm because so many families needed directions. Often Lott would go with one family while Jake would direct another. With each passing day, Jake became more irritated because he knew the serene life with his Choctaw friends would soon end, never to return.
And again, as Mister Mac had also predicted, conflict and violence over land lines occurred with such regularity that Lott and Jake had to re-survey and settle many disputes. In some cases, they had to refer these problems to Judge Henry who was in charge of keeping law and order in the newly-formed Newton County. Judge Henry’s office was in a crude log cabin in the small but growing settlement of Union. The town lay approximately six and one half miles west of the Wilsons, and it took time to travel back and forth to settle the arguments. When Newton County was created from the southern part of Neshoba County, the county seat was moved to Decatur, a small village nine miles south of Union.
An unexpected problem between the Choctaws and settlers developed because some Choctaws chose to stay on their native land. Still unaccustomed to being restricted, the Choctaws felt they could roam at will in pursuit of wild game. They also resented the way settlers were slaughtering the deer and turkey. Two settlers boasted that from the latter part of January to the first of July, they had killed almost a hundred deer and planned to continue their hunting. The black bear, that Choctaws hunted with great pride, were now only tales to tell when settled around the campfires at night. They were gone forever.
Some settlers felt the Indians did not deserve the same rights as themselves. They felt they could take wild game at will from the Choctaws’ land and often ran the Indians off their own property.
Lott and Jake could see a serious conflict developing, and knowing how the federal government in Washington felt about Indian rights, they realized the Indians could not expect the justice they deserved. President Jackson had already made it clear that this country was meant for the white man and when the Indians got in the way of progress, the Indians were to be removed, one way or another.
Minsa and several other Choctaws had decided to remain on the land where their village was established. It was relatively flat and extremely fertile since it lay next to the Little Rock Creek. One area that had been cleared years before by Minsa’s clan to host the famous stickball games would be perfect for cultivation, if the Indians chose to work the land; but Minsa could not think of breaking the ground where so many fierce games had been played. This land was part of the property Frank Olliver had asked McCorkle to purchase for him earlier.
Minsa’s sister, Hatta, chose to stay with him and with the man she had grown to love.
On one particular day, the summer sun seemed hotter than usual so Lott and Jake settled themselves under the shade of one of the large oaks located on the edge of their freshly plowed field to rest a while and regain their strength.
“Lott, this heat is about to get the best of me, and we still have a long way to go ‘fore dark,” remarked Jake, as he lay back on the ground.
“I know how you feel, Jake, but sundown’ll come and we’ll be proud of this field.”
Lott stood up when movement at the edge of the woods on the other end of the field caught his attention. It was Minsa and Hatta.
“Jake, get up. We got company comin’. Wonder what they want this time of day?” questioned Lott, nudging Jake.
Jake quickly rose and walked through the loosely plowed soil to meet them.
“Lott, sump’n ain’t right. They never visit this time of day.”
“Jake, bring them up here under the shade. You hear me,” hollered Lott.
“I hear ya,” replied Jake over his shoulder, as he walked even faster to reach their friends.
Lott could tell something was wrong by the way Minsa and Hatta were talking with Jake.
“What’s goin’ on Minsa?” questioned Lott, as they approached.
“Got trouble with white man and black man too,” answered Minsa. “They cut my trees and break my ground.”
“Wait a minute, Minsa. You tellin’ me someone is on yore land,” interrupted Jake, getting angrier by the minute. “We’ll just run those sons of bitches off right now.”
“Jake, let him finish,” Lott said. “Minsa, are you sure they is on yore land?” questioned Lott, hoping it was just a mistake.
“On my land. Minsa know where Lott and Jake marked trees,” answered Minsa. “White man say us get, or he shoot hell out of us.”
’Ill
