Chapter 1

Howdy, folks, my name is Johnathon Quartermaine, but nowadays, most people call me Johny Quick. This here story is how I got ta be the dangerous bastard that people say I am. I don't think of myself that way, but y'all know how folks like a good story, particularly ifen there's a little dirt in it.

Back afore I was born, my pa and ma came over from Cornwall in the hold of one of them tubs that wuz laughingly called a passenger ship. They landed in Savanna in the spring of 1794 an' started lookin' fer a place fer a farm. They share-cropped fer two years 'til they learned the lay of the land. That's when I was born, 1797, the oldest of the crop.

Pa realized that there weren't no good land left fer po' folks like us, so he packed us up in a wagon pulled by our mule, Andrew, an' set out fer the West. He bought a farm from a land speculator who wuz selling land that wuzn't his ta sell. When we got ta our land, Pa found it was already settled by a gent what had bought the property from the same speculator the year previous. Well, Pa was shore ticked off, so he went back ta visit that speculator.

The speculator, at first, didn't want ta have nothin' ta do with Pa, but Pa convinced the bastard to return his money, all $12 of it, an' left him a keepsake. Pa cut the man's gizzard out (that's local vernacular fer cutting from crotch ta breast bone an' from one side ta the other). Nobody raised a stink 'bout it, since they had been expecting this sort of thin' ta happen any time; the bastard had a reputation fer cheatin', an' he was bound ta git caught one of these days.

That still left us without a farm, an' it wuz gittin' late in the year. There was nothin' left fer it, but Pa hired the ferry ta haul us across the Chattahoochee River inta Alabama Territory. A' course, it weren't called Alabama Territory back then, it had some sort of Injun name, Creek or Choctaw, I think. Anyways, we traveled through a skeeter infested swamp fer a while 'til we came to some dry land that nobody else wuz usin' an' what looked pretty good. So Pa claimed it an' put up a cabin.

He started farmin' the place an' had several good years. By the time I was 12, in 1809, we wuz doin' right well. A' course, by then, I was puttin in a full day's work on the farm, plus huntin' as I had time. Pa had an old musket that I don't know wuz how old, but it weren't good fer nothin' but show. Pa was real good with his hands and right smart at smithin', so he made me a crossbow fer hunting. It had a steel bow and steel bowstring, so there weren't no chance that I would break it. When he first give it ta me, I could hardly cock it, so I learned to hit my target with the first shot. The bolts he made had what he called a broadhead design, so they stayed burried in whatever they hit an' had ta be dug out. That wuzn't so much of a problem when I shot a deer, but I once made the mistake of shootin' a skunk. Ma wouldn't let me inta the house fer four days afterwards.

As I said, we wuz doin' right well with the farm, up 'til the Creeks got restless 'bout so many Whites comin' inta their territory. By 1813, when I was 16, an' a full grown man (I thought), the Creek Redsticks wuz makin' all kinds of troubles fer the Whites in eastern Alabama. They wuz called Redsticks because they painted their warclubs red, I guess to symbolize all of the blood they wuz goin' ta cover 'em with.

One summer day, the crops wuz all planted an' work was kinda slack, so I took off fer a little huntin'. It wuz early in the day, so all my brothers an' sisters still had chores ta do. Pa was goin' ta do some blacksmithin' and Ma had her usual things ta do, so I wuz able to escape without one of the kids follerin' along behind me. I found a nice deer and killed it; it wuz near noon by the time I had it field dressed an' ready ta haul back home. It wuz a pretty big one, so I had ta make me a travois to use fer haulin' it back ta the cabin.

When I dragged the deer up ta the cabin door, I wuz 'sprised that nobody ran out to meet me. I was a little pissed at that, because it weren't often that I brought back a deer as nice as this one. I was horrified by what I found inside the cabin, my ma an' both of my sisters were lyin' on the floor, dead. They had all been raped, an' from the blood, it looked like it had been many times. My three brothers were lyin' about with their heads smashed in, and there was no sign of my pa. He wuzn't nowhere inside the house, so I looked around fer him. I found him at his forge, all beat up and dead. He must of put up a fight from the signs, but it didn't save his life.

After findin' all this, I kind of collapsed beside the forge an' cried. It was the first time in five years that I had cried, not since the pain from a broken leg, but I really felt pain this time an' it had ta go somewheres. I don't know how long I just sat there an' cried, but it had to be fer hours. Finally, I came ta myself an' started diggin' graves. We had a right good spade that Pa had made, and I used that ta dig the two holes, one fer Ma and Pa, an' one fer my brothers an' sisters. It wuz dark by the time I was finished with the buryin', an' I wuz hungry fer the first time that day.

I went inside an' fixed myself some deer steak an' herbal tea fer supper. When that wuz done, I looked around, wonderin' ifen I should clean up all of the spilled blood. I decided NO, I wuzn't gonna take the time ta do that, cuz I wanted to git on the trail of the bastards what had done this horror to me an' my family. I figured ta start out the next mornin' on their trail. I'm a right fair tracker, so I figured that I could find them Injun Redstick bastards pretty quick. I knew they wuz Redsticks cuz I found a broken red painted club near my Pa's body.

I had a hell of a time sleepin' that night, but I finally managed ta drop off. I woke up afore sunup the next mornin', rarin' ta go. I ate some breakfast an' gathered up some provisions, cuz I knew I wuz goin' ta be on the trail fer a couple of weeks. I counted six men in on the attack from their tracks. I knew that I needed ta be careful, but I figured that I could take care of that many by myself.

I gathered up my weapons, four throwing knives that Pa and I had made for a lark, a short sword that I was later told looked like a Roman gladius, an' a pig-sticker of a knife that had an 8-inch blade that was thin an' sharp on both edges, I think it was the kind called a stiletto, but I ain't shore. These, with my repeatin' crossbow, made up my armament. I wuz sure that they would be enough.

The throwin' knives had points on both ends, an' I was deadly with them up ta 'bout 25-30 feet. Pa an' I used ta have throwin' contests an' I regularly beat him, an' he wuz no slouch. The pig-sticker belonged ta Pa, an' I ain't got no idee where the sword came from. The repeatin' crossbow was my own invention. I could load it with 12 bolts and fire six ta eight aimed shots a minute. It was good up to 'bout 75 yards; it could kill farther than that, but it wuzn't accurate enough beyond 75 yards.

I didn't need no musket, since they wuz no more accurate than my crossbow, took a whole lot longer ta load, an' wuz way too noisy fer my taste.

I wuz off with the sun, now that I had enough light ta track. Them Redsticks must have thought they killed everybody cuz they made no effort ta hide their trail. It wuz almost like they wanted ta be followed. Well, I wuz 'bout ta oblige 'em, cuz I was off after 'em as fast as I could foller their trail. They wuz on foot jus' like I wuz, so I figured to cotch up in a day or so.