by Hunter Jones
Walking back to me, he continued to talk as his horse and dogs followed him. “I just wanted to get the saddlebag. You think you can ride into Chattanooga? I will have to walk on account of your weight; the horse can only carry so much. It will take us two days to get to Ross’s Landing, but that will give us ample time to meet the troupe. We will camp here tonight. It’s quiet and we have the water.”
He reached to the horse, gathered the reins, and tied them around a tree trunk by the stream. As the horse drank, James removed a rifle and placed it close to me. How does he know I won’t shoot him? He doesn’t even know me. Next, he removed the saddle and the two large saddlebags. He patted the horse on its back haunches and walked to the creek to wash his hands. I turned to watch his every move, still unsure what to expect. The dogs ran in and out of the water, certain that they now had their master’s approval. As the dogs raced off on the trail of some rabbit or water animal, James looked at me and said, “We will be safe from any renegades or marauders. You need to know that you have nothing to fear from me, Miss Maggie. I am a gentleman.”
James walked around the thicket, which hid us from Alexander Bridge Road, and gathered up tree limbs and fallen branches. From the way he stacked them, I knew he was making a fire for us. A sudden breeze gave me a chill and I turned up the collar of my jacket in order to keep the wind off my neck.
“You’re a doctor, so I can trust you.” I had to say it. Another group of gnats surrounded my face and a mosquito bit my upper arm. I waved my hand in the air, trying to get them to leave.
“Why, yes, ma’am. You can trust me,” he said and laughed as the sun started its descent behind the mountain. He worked to light the fire made of his collection of sticks and twigs. Once the flames were strong, he sat back on his heels for a few minutes. His hounds barked from somewhere within the trees.
James laughed and said, “Sounds as if our supper has been found. They’ll be back here in a few minutes with a couple of birds. You just wait and see.” He looked at me and smiled. The fire crackled and hissed and the warmth was relaxing. He had added a piece of cedar, which added to the fragrance of the evening as it mingled with the cool, crisp air.
He picked up the blanket roll from the saddlebag and placed it opposite the fire, under the trees. As he moved closer to me, he said. “First, let’s get you under the trees. That rock will get cold once the night sets in. We can’t have you catch a cold or fever after what you have been through today.” As James placed an arm around my waist, I put both my arms around his neck. My heart pounded so loudly I wondered if he could hear it. Nothing was said as he lowered me to the ground. He smiled when I reached out to touch his hair and then his face.
“I’m pretty, ain’t I?” he said, laughing at himself.
“Yes, you are.” I giggled in reply. The twilight hid the blush that crossed my cheeks.
James moved closer to the fire, but he remained within touching distance. He took something out of his jacket and said, “Think you are well enough to have a bite of jerky or some hard tack? You haven’t been sick for a while and I do believe your stomach can take some food now.”
He looked at me and I nodded yes. He handed me a small, biscuit-type bread wrapped in paper, then he said, “Let me get you some water before you bite into that thing.” Picking up a cup hidden in the saddlebag, he walked to the creek and brought some of the cold water to me. I took the cup with both hands and drank almost all of it at once. He stretched out on the blanket, crossing his long legs.
“Now, hold on, Miss Maggie. You’ll be up all night if you drink too much water. Slow down.” For some reason, the way he said it made me giggle. He started laughing too. “If you do have to relieve yourself, just disappear into the trees. You have my word that I will not look.” This statement amused me. “See, I’m not too bad, am I?” he asked.
“No, maybe you aren’t,” was all I could say. The biscuit thing tasted awful, but it wasn’t upsetting my stomach. Plus, the thought of eating rabbit meat really did make me queasy. “May I have another one of these things?” I asked.
“Lord have mercy, I ain’t ever known anybody that could stomach two of those godawful things, but yes. Yes, you may have another one. At least it will keep you from starving.” He reached inside his jacket and handed the second biscuit to me. I could see the gleam in his eyes as he looked at me and caused me to giggle again. He touched my forehead with the back of his right hand. “You don’t have a fever.” His gesture gave me a tingle. He really is pretty, entered my mind before I could think. I smiled at him but said nothing. He moved to sit beside me on the blanket.
Chapter 4
Could he tell how scared I was? Or that the nearness of him made my pulse race? This had been the most confusing day I had ever known. We sat in the silence, the dogs baying as they moved closer to our little thicket in the woods. Finally, I whispered to him, “What did you want to discuss with me? You mentioned earlier that we needed to talk about something.” I was a little frightened about what his response would be.
After a pause he said, “There is one thing we should discuss about the show.” James looked at me and placed his hand over mine. Finally, he ran his other hand through his hair and said, “We are going to have to change your name. Maggie will work with our audiences. They are good country people and will understand a woman named Maggie. What about something exotic? What about Maggie Marie Morgan? That will appeal to the Southern sympathizers. We do tour Alabama quite often and on occasion go all the way across Mississippi to the river. Then, for the communities of Union sympathizers, what about Maggie Marie Mason, on account of the Mason Dixon line, them being the Northern side and all. We have to appeal to everyone in some way or another or we will never sell anything. Your accent needs work too. You don’t even sound American. We may have to pretend that you are from another country and can’t speak English. That way, you won’t open your mouth and throw the audience off track.”
From somewhere within me, a rage began to boil. Before it blew sky high, I said, “Do you want to change everything about me? Is that medicine show all you think about? Are you not concerned about where I came from and how you’re going to get me back there? I don’t even know where I am and all you are concerned about is that show!”
“Damn, woman. That show makes me and everyone in it more money in one day than most people make in a year. What in tarnation is wrong with you? I already told you I would get you home. Is there not one grateful bone in your body? I don’t necessarily recall you even saying thank you, which would be mannerly, considering how I saved your life and all today.”
With his response, my tears began to flow. Before I knew what to do, I was openly sobbing.
“Am I ever going to get back home?” I whispered, pushing a strand of my hair behind one ear.
“You don’t seem to know how you got here,” he replied.
He was right. How could I explain that I had a seizure or got hit by lightning or something happened that propelled me here? Wherever I was and whatever happened led me to end up here.
Pulling a saddlebag closer to us, he said, “It will be a while until I can get you on a train to Atlanta. A lot of people depend on me for their livelihood. They have to make a living and have families to feed. The show makes a lot of money for my crew and investors. I will keep my word to you; you have my promise. After supper, I will explain to you how we are structured. Will that calm you down?” He ran his hand over the scruff on his chin for the first time. Somehow, the promise soothed me. He wiped the tears from my cheeks and said, “I didn’t mean to make you cry, Maggie. What do you want me to do?”
Looking into his eyes, I said, “James, this is your world and your show. I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know where I am.” I sobbed again. The night air had a chill and I felt so tired. “May I ask you some questions?”
“You most certainly may. What do you need to know?” he asked, that amused look flashing across his face again.
“Where am
I? Where exactly are we? Uh…what month is it and what year?” I flexed my right foot and continued to feel the pounding in my head from the fall. Why does he make me so self-conscious?
After what felt to be a short eternity, he spoke, “Maggie, you are in Chickamauga, Georgia. This is the site of a battle that happened ten years ago, which changed the course of history around here.”
Pulling me close to him, he said, “It is October 16, 1873. We are in the midst of being reconstructed, reformed, and remade by our fellow Americans and these are some brutal times. It’s dangerous out there and you can trust no one. Do you hear me? Do you understand what I am saying to you?”
Yes, I nodded.
The fire snarled and I heard something jump into the stream. James’s lips brushed the place on my forehead that had been injured. He smelled of leather, smoke, and whiskey, and I felt his long hair fall against my face. I had to bite my lower lip to keep from crying again or maybe it was to stop me from kissing him. I didn’t really know what to do.
“You’re a lost soul, Maggie, but can I tell you a secret?” His lips touched my cheek and the sensation affected my entire body. He pulled me closer and held me for a moment before he continued. “There are many, many lost souls in the world today. You’re not alone. Does that make you feel better?” His lips grazed my forehead again as I moved my head in agreement.
“I do apologize for my actions earlier today. There are lawless renegades throughout the area. You never know who’s your enemy, or how they’re traveling. Homeless people still roam the area; sometimes alone, sometimes in outlaw gangs. Fathers have turned against sons, and brothers have fought and continue to battle.”
Taking my chin in his right hand, he looked into my eyes and said, “I can assure you that I will take care of you. You have my word, Maggie. For whatever reason, you were placed here today for me to find. I consider you a gift from the Almighty. The Good Book says that some will entertain angels unaware. How do I know if you fell from the skies or tripped in the mud? And what does it mean? For me, it means that no matter where you came from, you are where you should be right now. For whatever reason, we were placed here together, so let’s find out what that reason is.”
His hand stroked the side of my neck and he buried his head in my hair. “Make an attempt to not worry yourself by crying and thinking too much. I will make a little supper and we can talk until dawn if you would like.
“Again, let me quote some Gospel. We are told of these three things: faith, hope, and love, but the greatest of these is love. We have to love and respect those who are placed in our paths. With you landing so literally in mine, I believe there to be a type of meaning that I do not comprehend as of yet. All I know is that I am here on this earth to make everyone feel better about themselves and their lives. It is my calling. We need to put the past in the past, enjoy today, and look forward to a brighter tomorrow. Why are we on this earth if not to help our fellow man?” He stopped, tossed his hair out of his face, and looked into my eyes. “Are you beginning to feel better now?” His lips touched my cheek. “You were looking mighty pale earlier, but I believe you are getting your appetite and strength back, little by little, don’t you?”
“Yes, James. Thank you for comforting me. It does feel as if I really am in the right place, even though I am so confused,” I whispered, attempting to be brave. I suddenly felt as if I was going to spiral downward again as a wave of nausea and fear pulsed through me and my stomach spasmed yet again. I had read of Victorian women swooning, and now I understood that sensation and the truest meaning of the word. Yet how can I be in another century, attracted to a man I just met? As James held me close, the only sounds I heard were those of the tree frogs, his hounds, and a lone whippoorwill corning from a faraway place.
Eventually, James broke the stillness of the encroaching darkness.
“Maggie Marie. I like the sound of it,” he said. “You’re too pretty and attractive. I just have to find you the right last name.” His words made me smile as he kissed my forehead once again. I couldn’t remember anyone who talked to me the way he did.
Handing me the flask again, he said, “Now I’m gonna get up, stoke the fire, and make us a bite to eat. We are going to have to keep you awake by talking, singing; whatever we have to do until you are safe. It’s dangerous for you to nod off right now. Once your pupils return to their normal size and functioning, you can sleep. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, James. I understand,” I replied and smiled, wishing he would kiss me, yet knowing that he actually would not. He had merely held me and comforted me as someone would soothe a lost, hurt child. There was nothing sexual in his actions, nothing at all. It’s just that he is the most gorgeous man I have ever seen in my life. I took a swig of his elixir from the flask. He kept on talking and started to clean the birds that the hounds had fetched. I watched him as the sounds of the southern night covered us like a soft, homemade cotton quilt.
Chapter 5
He sat with his back toward me by the fire as he pulled feathers from the two large birds that his dogs had brought from their hunt. Sometimes, he would hold a feather against the darkening sky, move it between his fingers, and place it in a separate pile. Once the fowls were plucked, he fed the insides to his dogs, then he walked to the stream and rinsed the carcasses in the water. A few times, he made a clicking, bird-type whistle sound and, after a few minutes, a similar sound was returned from the darkness. He picked up a stick, pierced the fowls, and began to skewer the meat over the fire. I couldn’t fight the hunger that gnawed at my stomach.
“The sticks are sassafras. That will flavor the meat and keep the night bugs away from us so we won’t get eaten alive by the mosquitoes and such.”
As the cicadas and night sounds began to engulf us in the evening darkens, I whispered, “Bug bites are one thing, but aren’t you afraid of having a fire out here? Can’t others find us?”
The sizzling of fat in the fire and the dogs’ whining broke the silence as my question was unanswered. Eventually, James replied, “Do you recall those calls I made after the sun went down?”
“Those bird whistles? That clicking sound? Is that what you mean?”
“Yes,” he said. “Those let me know that we have so-called friends traveling in the surrounding area.”
“But those sounds were nothing like yours. If they know the call, wouldn’t they answer you, like a mimic? You know...make the same sound in reply?”
After a thoughtful pause, during which he looked at his skewered dinner, he finally explained, “Don’t you think anyone could make the same sound in reply?” Then, he looked at me and raised his eyebrows.
“Oh.” I felt myself blushing in the dark. “You’re right. For some reason, I thought it was a code.”
He stood up and removed a small pan from one of the saddlebags, balancing it on two logs. Next, he removed a knife from his boot and used it to move the meat down the stick and onto the pan. Finally, he replied, “It is a code. If they answer in much the same manner of the sound you make, you know that they are not your friend. When the returning call is different, you know that it is a friendly traveler. It’s a Cherokee signal, which we used in the cavalry. It is based on the sound of the Tennessee mockingbird. You ever heard a mockingbird?” He balanced the long knife on a flat rock, close to the fire.
“Yes, I have,” I said in reply. “You are right. They don’t answer each other exactly. I’ve never noticed that before.”
He turned and looked at me, smiling that grin that made my stomach flip-flop with a different type of hunger pang. “Maybe you are not as empty headed as I initially thought you were.” His words made me blush. “Want to try a bite to eat? It will make you feel better.”
The thought of having wild, greasy game didn’t appeal to me at all. “No thank you. May I have more of the hard tack stuff?”
He chuckled and moved his hat back on his head. “Damn. Those more than likely came across on the ship that brought my granddaddy f
rom Holland. I don’t know how the hell you can eat that.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “I thought it was okay; just hard to chew.”
He laughed again and said, “That bread is made to last for years. They make it for sailors to last from one port to the next as they cross the oceans. We had it rationed to us during the war on long campaigns. We always wondered if maybe it was used for cannon fodder at the end, considering there wasn’t much substance left to use.” Even in the darkness, I sensed a change in his face.
“Did you fight for the Confederacy?” I whispered.
He looked me directly in the eye and paused before he looked away. After a long silence, he said, “I don’t like talking much about the past, miss. No offense, you understand.” The fire crackled and hissed as his horse made a sniffling sound while it grazed close by.
Looking at my hands because I didn’t know what to say, I eventually said, “I’m sorry, James. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
He smiled at me, took a long drink from his flask, and tossed it into my lap. “Woman, have a few drinks of this. I reckon you’ll have to be liquored up to stomach more of that hard tack. I’ll make it into a gravy for you. Ever seen that done before?”
Taking a swig from his flask, I shook my head and replied, “No.”
James placed a biscuit, or hard tack, as he called it, into the pan with the cooking birds. The grease splattered and he used the knife to move the bread around the pan.
“The hot grease will help remove the insects and grubs from inside the bread,” he said.
The thought of eating insects made me choke. The hot fluid in my stomach churned up and burned its way up my throat. James came over to hold me around the waist as I crouched in the darkness and hurled into the grass.