“Good God! Are you sure you’re not a ghost? You talked with Watts and—”
“And lived to come here? Why not?” And Sevier smiled serenely. “I told Old Tassel I was bringing a talk to you. He is anxious to learn how it results.”
McGillivray played with his glass, his gaze following the light darting through the rich depths, his astute mind seeking to unravel the true import of the borderman’s astounding assertions. Suspicions of double-dealing on Watts’ part came and went, more of a suggestion than a suspicion, for he knew Watts’ implacable determination to have done with the Western settlements. The chief of the Chickamaugas could not change. But there was a mystery in Sevier’s living to leave the town once he had entered it.
“I’ll admit Watts would not receive my talk as I had hoped,” Sevier frankly confessed. “He even showed resentment.” McGillivray smiled. “But Old Tassel was deeply impressed.”
The emperor frowned.
“Old Tassel should be called Old Woman,” he muttered. “What was your talk?”
“I told him if he would hold his warriors back from war I would promise to keep the whites from any further trespass on the lands south of the French Broad and the Holston. I told him that an alliance with Spain, through the Creeks, would surely ruin the Cherokee Nation.”
“Anything else?” whispered McGillivray, setting down his untasted glass.
“I told him if he made a war-treaty with the Creeks he would lose many warriors and gain nothing. I told him that even if he could kill off all the settlers he would gain nothing, as in the end the Creeks would take his lands.”
“Mr. Sevier,” murmured McGillivray, “why are you so foolish as to tell me all this?”