Page 75 of Shadow of Death
Maybe the intensity of their work made times like this all the sweeter. They went with their waitress’s suggestions and ordered the corned beef and cabbage one and all.
“This place is great,” Hunter assured Aidan. “Food, music—and company.”
“It’s a favorite.” He laughed. “One of my clan cousins is a host over at the hotel and casino, walking distance from here. Sometimes we have a great lunch there, and sometimes he comes over here and meets me to get some Irish on.” He laughed. “Another all-American creation! He’s Irish, Cuban, and Seminole. To be a tribal Seminole, you have to have at least a quarter of our blood in you.”
“What a perfect Floridian, as well as American,” Hunter said, lifting his glass to Aidan.
The band came on to play a version of “Danny Boy” made famous by the band Black 47. They were good, and everyone at the table enjoyed them along with the rest of those eating inside and outside the restaurant. But when the song ended, it was time to go. And the easy conversation they’d enjoyed while eating ended. They were somber as they said good-night.
But when they reached the hotel room, Hunter quickly drew Amy into his arms. “Please tell me you’re not too, too tired. I mean, wow. So, I admit I’m much fonder of the woman I know, but, hmm. This is like being absolutely enflamed and inspired by two women in one.”
Amy laughed and ran her fingers down his cheek.
“Wait!” she protested. “Does that mean you’re really looking for a brunette?”
He shook his head, his expression serious as he looked down at her. “No. It means I’d be madly in love with you as a redhead, a blonde, or a brunette! But—”
“Tomorrow I think I’ll be Scarlet Broussard, a brilliant historian and tour guide by day, a wicked party girl by night! So if you want, I can start being wicked party girl tonight!”
“Oh, I want. I want,” he assured her.
They made use of the time they had. Enjoying a long, steaming shower. Laughing as they nearly tripped after one of their embraces as they headed to the bed. Pausing to look at one another and know what it meant to be together, then laughing and teasing again. What started as soft caresses on one another’s flesh led to deeper and deeper intimacy, meshing together with the sensual urgency that seemed sweeter because of the comfort they shared more and more with the passing of time.
They dozed. She woke when he teased he wasn’t going to be with a brunette all that often, and they made love again.
They slept deeply at last.
And then the morning came.
It was good to see Jimmy Osceola again, Amy thought, even if she had trouble forgetting about his possible involvement in another case.
Or the same case, since whoever was behind it all seemed determined to follow through withfourhorsemen. But Jimmy quickly assured her that he wanted whatever was going on to be stopped.
From everything she knew about him, and through Aidan, she knew he was a good man. Instinct wasn’t evidence, but she was going to go with it for now.
“Some of this is our land, and some of this is park land,” Jimmy told her gravely. She knew he had to be sixty, but he was built tall and solidly without an ounce of fat and his face retained a startling youth. He was a strong but kind man, she knew, and he loved what he did. “So, I want whatever is going on stopped. And if it wasn’t close to home and personal, I’d still want it stopped because it’s so cruel and horrible.”
“You’re a good man, Jimmy,” Amy told him quietly. “Either that,” she added lightly, “or a glutton for punishment.”
He laughed at that. “You ready for this?”
“They’ll tease me to death later, but sure, I’m ready!”
Of course, it was impossible to give any kind of lecture while they were riding in the airboat alongside the embankment—the sound of the motor cut out any such possibility. But sitting in the boat, Amy saw Mickey did have others out in the vicinity.
Other airboats were out there—ahead of them and behind them. Eventually, Jimmy cut the motor and brought the airboat to an embankment, and showed them all how best to alight without sinking into the mucky land close to the water.
“So, here we are, deep in the Florida Everglades. The ecosystem covers much of the southern Florida peninsula and is one of the most unique systems in the world and thus in the continental United States,” Amy said. “But Florida! It was first inhabited by human beings about fourteen thousand years ago. But our tribes today are not those who originally lived here. As Europeans discovered and encroached upon the land, many original inhabitants died out or were absorbed by those who came this way after. As we all know, European settlers were not all kind to native populations. Ponce de León arrived in Florida in the year 1513 and gave the land its name—La Pascua Florida. It was Easter season, the festival of flowers to the Spanish, and the rich landscape apparently influenced Ponce de León. The land remained under Spanish rule from the sixteenth to the nineteenth century except for a brief time—1763 to 1783—when the British flag flew high over her. The land went back to the Spanish until 1821 when it became a territory of the United States. Pirates had been raging along the coast, but the Americans brought in Admiral David Porter from the Keys who fought them hard and long. But something was happening that was not so great when we look back. Native Americans were being forced from their homes to walk the Trail of Tears, which caused many Native Americans to flee, a number of them to the Everglades. Once, there were the Ais, the Calusa, the Apalachee, the Jeaga, the Mayaimi, the Potano, the Tequesta, the Timucua, the Tocobaga, and the Mikasuki. Seminole history really began with groups of Creek migrating south from Georgia and Alabama and possibly absorbing other tribes who had been here before. The first Seminole War began in 1816, soon after the Battle of New Orleans and while the area was still officially under Spain. Some called it Andrew Jackson’s War. The Second Seminole War began in 1835 and ended in 1842. There would be yet another, the Third Seminole War, which began in 1855. European Americans were determined to move the tribes out to reservations in Oklahoma, and up until 1858, they managed to move many Native Americans, starved and weary, to that state. But bands of Seminole refused to go, refused to sign a treaty. And who would blame them, since treaties had been broken time and again! Those who remained were truly the undefeated.”
Amy walked as she talked, aware her little band of agents, along with Aidan Cypress as her “escort,” were by all accounts giving her their undivided attention.
They were, of course, looking.
Looking all the while. Searching the poor trails and the surrounding foliage.
“During the Second Seminole War, Osceola—a tribal leader born William Powell in Alabama and whose mother was Muskogee and great-grandfather the Scotsman William McQueen—was taken by the United States Army under a flag of truce,” Amy said, shaking her head. “He was tricked during the Second Seminole War, held first at Fort Marion in St. Augustine and then at Fort Moultrie in South Carolina, where he died. No, he was not executed—he died of malaria. But after his death, strange things happened. His doctor—who had become a friend—decided to remove his head from the coffin before he was buried. Rumor had it that the good doctor placed the head on the bedposts of his children if they misbehaved. He left the great Osceola’s head and other relics to his son-in-law who reportedlydid notmake use of the head as a punishment but kept it in his office—which burned. Of course, there are ghost stories about the proud Osceola prowling various areas, seeking his head.”
“I guess some people have always been on the grotesque side,” Aidan murmured.
