you embarrassed Frank in front of that big black. What’s his name? Toby, that’s it, and Jake, Frank ain’t going to forget it. He’s going to get you someday, somehow. You better watch yore back.”
“I ain’t worried about that bastard. It’ll take more than him to bring me down,” replied Jake.
Minsa and Hatta were sitting on the front step, waiting.
“Good to see you, Wilsons. You kill white man?” questioned Minsa, stepping forward to stop the horses.
“Naw, we didn’t kill nobody, but I sure felt like it,” Jake said, dismounting.
“That man ain’t going to pester you no more. If’n he do, you just tell me and I’ll get him,” Jake said, as he walked over to embrace Hatta.
“Minsa, you is going to be fine. Let’s go to the kitchen and see if’n we can round up some vittles,” Lott said, pointing toward the back of the house.
Later that night, Minsa and Hatta left and Lott and Jake were alone on the front porch. Lott packed his pipe full and lit it. Tobacco was a new habit for him.
“Jake, can I ask you sump’n personal, and will you not get mad at me?” Lott said, feeling uncomfortable about what was bothering him.
“You sure can, brother. That’s what brothers do,” replied Jake, not paying a lot of attention.
“Jake, ain’t Hatta gained a little weight? You know, in the middle?”
“What you gettin’ at?” answered Jake, trying to avoid looking at his inquisitive brother.
“Jake, now don’t get mad at me. Is Hatta going to have a baby? And if’n she is, it’s all right with me.”
“Lott, I love that woman, and she is going to have my baby,” replied Jake, as he stared hard toward the barnyard.
“I been ‘fraid to tell ya ‘bout it. I didn’t know how you’d take it. I thought you might get mad,” continued Jake, pleased that Lott was not scolding him for once.
“Jake, this is how I feel. Hatta is carryin’ my future niece or nephew, and I think the child should carry the Wilson name. My brotherly advice to you is to go down there tomorrow, ask Minsa if’n you can take her for yore wife, and bring her to our place. You two can have the other side of the house. And, the first time a preacher comes to this here country, he can marry you two and make it legal,” Lott said with finality.
“Lott, what’s people going to say ‘bout us havin’ a Choctaw in our house?” asked Jake.
“Jake, I don’t give a hooter’s damn what they say ‘bout that. We were the first to settle this country, and we’ll set the rules,” answered Lott, leaning back in his chair and blowing a large circle of smoke into the air.
Jake eased up out of his seat and motioned Lott to stand up.
Lott was apprehensive about Jake’s intentions since he had been meddling, but he stood anyway. Lott hadn’t had a fight with Jake since they were teenagers, and he sure didn’t want to test his strength against a brother that could tear a man apart and not break a sweat doing it.
“Lott, you mind givin’ this ole brother of yores a hug. You know to be such an ass sometimes, you really is sump’n,” Jake said.
“I love ya and I’m going to go get her tomorrow,” concluded Jake.
“I love you, too, you big ox. That is, most of the time,” laughed Lott, relieved that Jake had not taken offense.
The following morning, Jake was gone by good daylight and before noon had returned with Hatta and her few belongings.
In the weeks that followed, Hatta brought many changes to the Wilson’s household. She kept the house spotless, cooked better than either brother and with her pleasant demeanor, kept Lott and Jake from their habitual arguing.
Four months later, in November of 1834, Hatta gave birth to a healthy and beautiful boy. Since the Choctaws had named Jake, Homa Chitto. Hatta and Jake decided to use the name Homa, but to change it to Homer, the English name. Homer had brown skin and dark eyes like his mother, but his hair was a light shade of red, almost golden like his father’s.
Never had a man been more proud of his son. Jake continually spoke of future plans for Homer and Hatta and how he wanted to set good examples for the boy. Jake even tried to control his temper and tongue.
Lott always got up early and read a few chapters in the Bible before starting the day’s work. One morning he had an unexpected guest.
“Lott, you mind if Homer and Hatta listen to you? When I was small, my father read stories to me in God Jesus Book,” Hatta said. “I want to know more.”
“Come on out here. I can use the company,” replied Lott. “You ever hear ‘bout King David and the giant?”
“Tell me,” urged Hatta.
After Lott finished the story, she looked puzzled.
“Lott, why missionaries no come here with settlers? White men all know God? God not important?”
“Hatta, God is important but not all white men believe as this book teaches. And they’ll come, the preachers that is, and when they do, this country is going to get back on the right track. You and Jake is going to get married up right when the first one comes by.”
From then on, Lott, Hatta and Homer began their day reading and talking about the stories in the Bible. When the weather permitted, they met on the front porch, but when it was cold, they would sit around the fireplace in the kitchen.
Jake, always a slow riser, finally decided to join the group. Before long, he was taking an active part in the devotions and enjoyed impressing Hatta with his ability to read and discuss the scripture.
As Mister Mac had predicted, the first few years of settlement had brought a lot of violence and turmoil to the hillcountry. Meanwhile, there was not enough law enforcement to settle the continuing disputes. Judge Henry had moved from Union to the new county seat located near the center of Newton County, and he had only one sheriff and one deputy for the entire county.
There were violent fights among neighbors, heavy drinking and gambling. Men would meet every Sunday for horse racing, dog fighting and anything else they could dream up for entertainment. Often these meetings would end in brawls when losers were forced to pay their gambling debts.
Judge Henry always advised his sheriff, “Go out and see who started the trouble and if it was a fair fight. If one of them got killed and you think it’s fair, to hell with them. Don’t bring no one to me to judge on.”
Lott and Jake stayed clear of trouble. They worked hard and minded their own business. Jake still didn’t much care for farming, but he had two special interests. First, to Lott’s objection, he earned the reputation of making some of the best homebrew and corn whiskey in the county. People would come from miles around and most homes kept it as a normal household commodity. And second, as much pride as he took in his whisky making, his real first love was horses.
He had never even been on a horse until he began surveying
