Chapter 7
1713 - Eight Years Later
The French colony began to evolve and the influx of settlers from the old world was ever increasing as the years passed. The colony was assigned a new governor that came from Quebec and Detroit. His name was Antoine Laumet sieur de Cadillac. St. Denis had been sent to nearby Biloxi to help fortify the French fort established there but soon was summoned back to Fort St. Jean by Governor Cadillac. Cadillac was aware of St. Denis’ earlier expeditions north of the colony and was now convinced that it was imperative to establish forts in that area for trading and to post soldiers there to keep the Spanish incursion from spreading east from Texas.
Meanwhile, LaRouche had been elevated to the rank of Lieutenant and commanded a group of soldiers at the fort that still patrolled the surrounding area, including the tribal areas on Lake Pontchartrain. Trading continued with the Indians and some of them had even been given muskets for more protection.
The Nashitosh and Acolapissa continued to live alongside one another on the lake but the latter had become somewhat resentful of the newcomers that had arrived and started hunting their game and catching their fish. They complained to the French that the wildlife was no longer plentiful. Tensions had started to rise between the two tribes and they spent less and less time in each other’s company.
Early one morning, LaRouche set out on patrol with his company that also included Etienne Sommer, now promoted to Sergeant. “These damn mosquitoes are tough this year, Sergeant,” he complained to Sommer. The rain fell hard on the patrol as they sloshed their way through the marsh. “Another few months of this and I’m liable to go nuts. We need to do something.”
“About the mosquitoes, Sir?” asked Sommer.
“No, you fool. We need to do something about this lousy detail,” he retorted. “We’re out here in the heat and mosquitoes while the other brass is up at the fort sipping tea and deciding what the next move is against the Spaniards. We should be up there, I’m telling you. What do they know? But, we’re stuck down here babysitting these damn Indians.” The rain lightened, so they stopped the patrol and decided to start a small fire to keep the mosquitoes at bay.
“I don’t know, Henri,” Sommer started, “We keep giving them those muskets, but if you ask me we shouldn’t have given them any at all. What if they decide to revolt against us? There is only a few of us here at a time while the rest of our men are fighting Spaniards.”
“Yes, you’re right, my friend. They have too many guns already.” LaRouche said as he sat thinking. “Every time I walk around there I think one of them is going to take a shot at me just for the hell of it.”
“Ah, you’re being paranoid, Lieutenant,” Sommer said. “There must be a way to get off this detail and get our tails up to the real fight. I’ve had it with this patrol, too.”
“Yes, there must be a way,” LaRouche kept thinking aloud. He sat and stared at the fire for what seemed an eternity. His nostrils flared a little as his thoughts raced. He took a deep breath and cocked his head towards Sommer. “I think I know how.”
It was a balmy September morning when St. Denis entered the compound of a bustling Fort St. Jean. The journey from Biloxi was arduous, but good progress had been made there. He was somewhat surprised to see so much activity at the fort. So much more than in years past. This part of the country was no longer a secret. He walked up the steps that led to the governor’s office. As he entered, the governor’s aide stood at tension, then said, “Please enter, Sir, he is expecting you.”
He opened the door to see Cadillac staring out his office window. “Ah, Louis! Welcome back, my friend. I trust your journey went well. May I offer you some tea?
“Yes, thank you, Governor,” said St. Denis, standing at the head of a long desk. “It is good to be back, Sir.”
“Please, have a seat,” Cadillac said as he sat behind the long desk. He poured some hot water into a tea cup for St. Denis and handed it to him. “The winds of change are among us, my friend. For better or for worse, I am not yet certain. The Spaniards are now aware of this place and are very keen in having a share of it. We’re finding it much more difficult to hold them back from their locations west of here. I feel a new strategy is needed now.”
“I understand, Sir. What are you proposing?” St. Denis asked.
“Tell me about the Red River territory, Commander,” Cadillac said directly. “I understand you were very fond of this area, from your reports.”
“Yes Sir,” replied St. Denis. “The area has a variety of climate changes, fertile soils, and many tributaries that branch from the Red. I was impressed with the different terrain, which is much different than what we are accustomed to here.”
“And, those tributaries are quite ample and run in many directions, do they not?” Cadillac asked.
“Yes, Sir. They do.”
“In strategic directions, wouldn’t you say?” Cadillac continued. “Enough to fortify with posts all along the river to protect the borders?”
St. Denis understood well what the governor was proposing. He looked at him with intrigue. The governor stood and walked over to the window to gaze out again. St. Denis sat, staring at his back. “I understand you befriended one of the native chiefs from that area on your journey over a decade ago,” Cadillac said quietly.
“Why yes, that is true,” St. Denis said.
“His tribe knows the area quite well, don’t they?”
“Well, yes, it was their home, Sir,” St. Denis said, looking ashamed after remembering he had not returned as he had promised, so many years ago now. “But, they relocated from that area. They are now living alongside the lake with the Acolapissa. They have for many years now. I’m afraid they encountered some rough conditions in those final years. Something, I did not foresee.”
Cadillac continued, “I have sent a scouting patrol up the river to see this area that you described in your journals. They returned this past week and I have word from them that it lush and green and full of promise as you spoke. They saw no more signs of the drought that pressed the Nashitosh to retreat from there.”
“Really?” asked St. Denis. He was intrigued. “That is very good news, Governor.”
“I have an assignment for you, Louis,” Cadillac said as he turned around to face him. “What would you say if I asked you to go back to this area and establish a fort, as you had once planned?” St. Denis began to answer, but Cadillac interupted him by raising his hand. “And, take the Nashitosh with you, since they know the land so well.”
“What would Red Hawk say to that?” St. Denis asked, knowing this would surely cause more tension among the tribes.
“I know of their quarreling,” Cadillac answered. “I’m afraid it is becoming a nuisance that my predecessors did not foresee. I will make an agreement with Chief Red Hawk to give them more land around the lake and also a safe migration route to the Houma tribe if they wish to do so. I understand they have a sound friendship with the Houma. All we will ask in return is that he let the Nashitosh leave in peace.”
He had St. Denis’ full attention. He had been looking for a way to make amends with Natchitos and his people. He knew they had left unwillingly the land that they loved. He knew this for certain.
“Do you think the Nashitosh would be agreeable to such a move?” he asked St. Denis.
St. Denis thought for a few moments. “I am certain they would welcome the news, Sir. I think it is a splendid idea.”
“Then make it so, Louis,” Cadillac responded. “I will give you three months to organize the tribe and the men you will need.”
LaRouche and his platoon approached the tribal camps alongside the lake. The tribal women saw them coming and began to prepare food for them. They grew tired of the white men coming to demand food and showing up so much more regularly. “We have nothing for them to suspect and we don’t need their protection. Why do they keep coming here
?” was a common question among the tribes.
LaRouche made himself at home. He walked about the tribe nonchalantly, poking his hand into each kettle to see what was cooking. The other soldiers stood nearby, not wanting to be a part of his carefree actions. The women ignored him and the tribal men looked at him with contempt.
Tooantuh was gathering reeds and firewood for the village fires and was unloading them onto a pile when he noticed LaRouche poking around the village. He grew tired of these intrusions and felt them more and more unnecessary. He frowned with a long sigh as he threw on the last bundle of wood. Then he noticed LaRouche kneeling down next to Ayita, who was stirring the fire under a kettle.
“Good afternoon, there,” LaRouche said coyly to her, with a mischievous grin. “Sure would like to get some food for my men. We’re all hungry. But for you, I can wait just a little longer.” Ayita ignored him, never looking away from the coals. She didn’t understand him anyway. She just wished he would go away. Tooantuh grew more agitated and decided he would no longer tolerate this behavior.
“Sure is a pretty day out, isn’t it little lady?” LaRouche said sweetly and brushed his hand along Ayita’s arm. She stopped stirring the coals and stared down at the ground coldly.
Just then Tooantuh came walking up angrily, shouting in his own language, “What is this? What are you doing putting your hands on my wife?” he demanded. “Leave! All of you. Leave! You are not wanted here anymore! You are a disgrace!”
LaRouche was now standing and Tooantuh yelled to his face. LaRouche yelled back at him, “Quiet mister! I’ve had enough of you. I was just being polite to the lady. She and I were about to take a walk together.” He grabbed Ayita’s arm and tried to pull her up, but Tooantuh slapped his arm away and then gave him a huge shove, knocking him to the ground. LaRouche had finally pushed him over the edge. Tooantuh pulled his bow and bundle of arrows off of his back and held them in his hand defiantly. The soldiers stood and looked on in shock. Tooantuh stood over LaRouche, gripping his bow and arrows tightly. The soldiers quickly drew their rifles and pointed them at Tooantuh. Tooantuh ignored them. He stood over LaRouche and threw down his bow and arrows in a challenging gesture.
“Stand down, men!” yelled LaRouche from his back. He began to pull himself off the ground. “If he wants to fight me, then he’s got it!” He stood eye to eye with Tooantuh and glared at him. Tooantuh turned and walked briskly over to an open area. LaRouche followed directly behind him.
“Sir, don’t do this,” Sommer begged LaRouche. “We can’t be provoking these people, let’s just get our things and leave.”
“Not me,” LaRouche said angrily. “Go if you want to, I’m going to settle this right now!” He began to walk faster towards Tooantuh. He lunged at him with his fist aimed at Tooantuh’s back. Just before he landed his punch, another soldier tackled him from behind, startling Tooantuh. Tooantuh turned around in a defensive stance, only to see the soldier pinning LaRouche to the ground.
“I’m not going to let you do this, Lieutenant!” said the soldier. “Now you stand down!” The soldier was a newly enlisted man, Thomas Girard.
Girard let him up and LaRouche reluctantly stood and dusted himself off. He glared at Girard, then back at Tooantuh. “You better watch yourself, soldier. There won’t be a next time if you try something like that again.”
“I’ll take my chances, Sir,” Girard responded sarcastically.
He stared at LaRouche defiantly, his heart pounding in his chest.
LaRouche seemed astonished at his bravery. But, he decided to let it go. “Get your gear,” he said coldly. He looked at the rest of his platoon, “All of you. We’re getting out of here. Now, let’s move out.” They marched away as Tooantuh stood and watched them go. Natchitos and Taima stood together, observing all that had taken place.