Timecachers

by Glenn R. Petrucci

  “There is still some distance to go before we reach the falls,” said Yonah, noticing Sal’s nervousness. “There is a landing ahead, well clear of the falls, where we can begin our portage.”

  “Okay then,” said Sal. “I’ll trust you not to let us go sailing over…”

  “Asduda! Hush!” Yonah said sternly. “I hear someone speaking on shore.”

  Yonah noiselessly back-paddled, slowing the canoe while he searched the shoreline for the source of the voices. He spotted two men sitting on a rock by the shoreline, passing a jug back and forth. He drew Sal’s attention to them with a jerk of his chin. They could hear their voices, talking loudly and laughing, although they were still too far away to make out what they were saying. Yonah spotted a pair of flintlock rifles leaning against a tree next to them.

  “They are armed,” he whispered, “and apparently drunk with whiskey. We will move as far away toward the opposite shore as possible, and try to use the boulders in the river to shield us from their view. We must go quietly. Unfortunately, the river is not wide enough at this point to get out of range of their rifles.”

  “Do you really think they’ll shoot at us?” asked Sal quietly, unable to mask the tension in his voice. “They just look like a couple good ol’ boys out hunting who stopped for a drink.”

  “I do not want to find out,” said Yonah. “Many of your ‘good ol’ boys’ consider Indians no better than game to be hunted.”

  They quietly paddled as Yonah directed, moving as stealthily as possible from rock to rock. There were fewer large rocks as they approached the two men, and they attempted to drift past them silently, using the paddles only as rudders to keep the canoe on a steady course. Unfortunately, they would be completely exposed as they passed directly in front of them.

  “They’d have to be blind not to spot us,” he thought to himself, not daring to make a sound. “With luck they’re blind drunk.”

  At that moment, one of the men pointed at them and yelled, “Lookee there! Injuns!” He staggered to his feet, grabbing for the rifles leaning against the tree.

  “Paddle hard,” cried Yonah. “They will only have two shots if both guns are loaded. They will not have time to reload before we are out of their range. And keep your head down!”

  “Only two shots!” Sal said as he slouched down and began digging in with his paddle. He knew the flintlocks weren’t all that accurate, but they were well within range, even for a couple of drunks.

  Sal glanced toward the men and saw one of them taking aim, while the other was slipping across the wet rocks and grabbing for his rifle. He heard the muffled crack of the rifle shot, and gasped as a chunk disappeared from the gunwale of the canoe. He felt a stinging on his hands and neck from the splinters of the shattered wood, relieved that it was wood and not lead. He paddled faster and harder all the same. Yonah ignored the shower of splinters and tried to jog the direction of the canoe to make them more difficult to hit, while at the same time keeping the canoe heading downstream and moving as fast as possible.

  “Dang, ah missed ‘em,” they heard one of the men shout.

  “I won’t,” the other bragged.

  Sal watched the second man, who was now in a crouching position, take aim. They were no longer directly across from the men, but still within shooting range. “Just a few more seconds of paddling should put us out of reach,” he thought, paddling with all his might.

  He heard the crack of the second shot, and felt the breeze of the slug as it zinged past his ear. A warm wetness splashed on his face as Yonah dropped his paddle with a grunt and grabbed his shoulder. As he did, the fast-moving canoe slammed into a rock, tipped sideways to the flow of the river, and instantly filled with water. Sal and Yonah were abruptly displaced as the canoe filled, dumping them into the cold, swiftly flowing river.

  “Ye-haw! Told ya I’d git ‘em!” Sal heard the man bellow.

  “Should we go finish ‘em off?” the other man asked.

  “Hell, no. What for? They’ll be over them falls in a couple minutes. No injun’s gonna live through that!” he answered.

  Sal fought against the current that mercilessly thrust him against the river rocks. He saw Yonah struggling to swim with one arm, the other hanging useless. They were moving fast, and even with two good arms it was impossible to avoid being bashed into rock after rock. They were not far from the shore, but the current kept trying to sweep them out to the center of the river. Yonah had barely begun his painful struggle against the current, slowly making his way to the shore, when he was unexpectedly pounded by a crashing wave, smashing him head first into a rock. Sal winced as he saw Yonah’s body go limp, no longer struggling. Unable to resist the power of the river, the Indian tumbled helplessly, bouncing against one rock after the next.

  “Hold on, Tonto!” he yelled, getting no response from Yonah.

  He made his way back toward the center of the river, dodging rocks while trying to quickly close the gap between him and his unconscious companion. He grimaced as he saw the river slam the old man into yet another rock. Luckily the force of the water held him against it, giving Sal the chance he needed to swim close enough to reach him. Sal looped his arm around Yonah’s neck and gripped a fistful of his drenched shirt. Yonah gave no response, and for a moment Sal worried that the Indian might be beyond saving. The cold river water had slowed the flow of blood from Yonah’s gunshot wound, but there was no way to determine his overall condition while battling the current in the middle of the river. He also had no idea whether the shooters would pursue them downriver.

  Sal resolved himself to get them both to shore. Committed to the task, he set his jaw in determination and pushed himself away from the rock, dragging Yonah behind. Without the protection of the rock, the full force of the river pounded against them. The dead weight of Yonah’s body pushed against him as the current hurled them both toward the next boulder. Sal tightened his grip on Yonah and struggled to put his own body between Yonah and the swiftly approaching rock. His back struck painfully against the rock as a wave slammed Yonah into his chest, knocking the breath from him. The current was becoming stronger now, and the whitewater foamed around him as he tried to regain his breath. He clung to the slick boulder and tightened his grip on Yonah. He began to panic when he realized he was in the rapids, remembering Yonah’s description of the hundred foot waterfall ahead.

  “I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a couple of rednecks send me over these falls!” he screamed with characteristic spunk. “C’mon, Tonto, we’re going to shore!”

  Sal lodged his feet against an adjacent rock, held tight to Yonah, and kicked himself away from the stone they had slammed against. This time, he summoned all his strength to fight the current and managed to stay parallel with Yonah, keeping his own feet pointed downriver. Sal kept his knees bent to cushion the blow when his feet struck the next rock, hoping to soften the punishing impact. His teeth jarred when his boots slammed into the boulder, and he struggled to keep his grip on Yonah’s sopping shirt. Gasping for breath, he gulped air between the waves that crashed over his head, trying not to swallow more water. He secured himself against his new perch and glanced over his shoulder to the rock he had just left. He judged himself to be about twenty feet closer to the shore, but he had traveled another hundred feet further downriver. Measuring the remaining distance to the shore, he estimated it would take him at least two more caroming jumps to reach it.

  “I wish Tom were here,” he thought. “He could probably calculate if there’s enough river left before the falls to make it to shore. Come to think of it, I wish anyone was here besides me!”

  “Okay, old dude, here we go again!” he said aloud to the inert Yonah. Once again he kicked himself away from the rock.

  He felt the current accelerate him downriver as he desperately sought another rock to stop his careening advance. He clutched Yonah and kept his legs ready to accept the next rock. Sal felt a severe thump against the back of his head as it struck a rock just below the
surface. The blow caused his vision to blur, and water rushed into his nose and mouth when he shrieked in pain. Coughing and gagging, trying to clear enough water from his air passage to take a breath, he caught sight of his target rock. He expelled the remaining water from his lungs, spouting water like a whale, and sucked in a huge breath of air. Once again his feet slammed into the rock. This time, due to his blurred vision, he hit it slightly off center and his feet slipped off of the wet boulder, one on either side. The full force of the water propelled him groin first into the rock. He gasped in agony, almost losing his grip on Yonah as the nauseating pain nearly caused him to vomit.

  “Sonofabitch!” he panted, trying to get his feet back on the rock and stop the river from bouncing his crotch against it. Unable to do so, he twisted off the rock entirely, still clutching Yonah and hoping for a better purchase against the next one.

  “Damn, I’d rather go over the freakin’ falls than do that again!” he thought.

  The next rock was a larger boulder, and he hit it squarely with his feet. Several more boulders and large rocks were now shielding him from the raging river, dampening the turbulent water flow. He used his legs and his free arm to claw at the rocks, making his way toward the shore. He felt the gravel of the river bottom beneath him, and used the last of his remaining strength to pull himself and Yonah far enough ashore to get the top half of their bodies clear of the river. He lay there bruised, battered, and exhausted, the side of his face pressing into the gravel. He relaxed his grip from around Yonah’s neck, feeling the stinging tingle as the blood rushed back into his fingers.

  “We did it, Tonto. We made it,” he said breathlessly as consciousness slipped away.

  Chapter thirty-two

  The farm dogs barreled out to meet Benjamin’s wagon as he and Alice turned up the lane. They gave a few short barks of greeting, and then fell into step alongside the wagon, prancing dangerously close to the wheels and the horse’s hooves. Sally appeared next, enthusiastically running to greet her father and becoming even more excited when she saw that Alice had returned. Benjamin kept a wary eye as he brought the wagon to a stop, cautious that Sally’s exuberance did not cloud her good sense to keep clear of the moving horses.

  “Alice!” she cried, beaming a wide smile. “You came back!” She hopped into the wagon and gave Alice a hug.

  “That I did, honey,” Alice said. “My goodness, I just missed you so much I decided to spend some more time with you guys.”

  “A very good idea!” she said. “Where are your friends?”

  “Hey! What about me? Are you not glad to see me?” said Benjamin, feigning hurt feelings.

  “Of course I am, daddy!” she said, jumping into his lap and giving him a big hug. “But where are the others?”

  “Well,” said Alice, “they went to visit some of our new friends. Adam is staying with Jimmy and Rebecca Deerinwater, Tom went with John to visit the Ward family, and Sal went on a trip with Gvnigeyona.”

  “Yonah! Sal is with Yonah?” she said with a perplexed look, then began to giggle. Even Sally realized the absurdity of that mismatched pair.

  “Where are your mother and brother?” asked Benjamin, changing the subject before Sally said something embarrassing. He slapped the reins to start the wagon moving again.

  “They were working in the orchard,” she answered, “but now they are on their way home. Billy promised we would go bird hunting later.”

  They met Catherine and Billy at the barn, just returning from the orchard. Sally ardently relayed Alice’s information about the disposition of the others, flaunting her knowledge of the details. She put emphasis on the pairing of Sal and Yonah, enjoying the amused reaction from Catherine. Billy just nodded, not wishing to give too much importance to any news his little sister had. After the news from New Echota had been shared, Billy was charged with the care of the horse and wagon and led them to the stables. Sally and Alice gathered the empty food baskets from the wagon and carried them to the farmhouse, leaving Benjamin and Catherine alone in the barn.

  “How did everything else go?” Catherine asked. She could tell he wanted to speak alone to her, easily reading his body language.

  “About like you would expect,” Benjamin said. “There are mixed reactions about the news John Carter has brought. Most are upset, but it is just more upset piled upon all the rest. It is not as if it were unforeseen.”

  “What purpose does it serve for our new friends to spend time at other households?” asked Catherine. “John does not really believe there is anything they can do to alter the situation, does he?”

  “Not really, but he believes that they truly want to help. It may be that the best thing they can do is to bring firsthand knowledge of these events back to their own time. Regardless, they are here and want to be helpful, and there is always plenty of work to be done.”

  “What about Sal with Yonah? That seems a very unlikely combination.”

  “To me as well. But John sometimes can see harmony in situations where others can only see discord.”

  “Hmm; I suspect whatever song they sing together will be more cacophonous than harmonious.”

  “It will certainly be anomalous,” Benjamin laughed.

  Catherine chuckled at his word play. “I am pleased to see Alice here with us again. She gets along very well with Sally, and helps to keep her in good spirits. And she is very helpful to me.”

  “She also showed good sense when we encountered the ruffians in New Echota,” said Benjamin.

  “You were accosted?”

  “They were not physically violent, although they threatened us, and they were especially abusive to Alice. They made very crass and rude remarks to her. You have experienced their ignorance. She was of course intimidated, but did not let them see her fear or provoke her to react foolishly. I believe she handled the situation as well as anyone could expect. Better than most.”

  “It is unfortunate she had to experience such shameful verbal taunting. At least she was spared physical abuse.”

  “Mmm,” Benjamin nodded his agreement. “Still, I believe the encounter affected her more than she lets on. Some words from you may give her comfort.”

  “Yes, of course,” she agreed. “I will speak with her. If only there were someone to utter words of comfort to sooth our minds as well.”

  Benjamin and Catherine left the barn and walked in silence to the farmhouse. Each knew what the other was thinking. They had discussed their situation many times; so many times no further words were necessary. How could they be expected to leave their home, the land that had been theirs and their ancestors longer than anyone could remember? Had they not done everything asked of them? Their people had changed their form of government, their religion, even their basic society from matriarchal to the patriarchal system of the whites. They had done this knowing they had no choice; they must become like the whites if they wanted to be allowed to exist.

  The times of violent resistance were long past. The efforts of the charismatic war chief Tsiyu Gunsini, known as Dragging Canoe, who relentlessly led the Chickamauga against those who would invade the Cherokee homelands, had accomplished little but a delay of the inevitable. Dragging Canoe, now dead for nearly fifty years, had predicted that the insatiable greed of the whites would eventually drive them to claim all Cherokee land. The homeland was essential to the Cherokee; it was part of their soul, and nearly all of it had been taken away. They had capitulated many times, and still it was not enough. The whites would not be happy until they had it all. Benjamin and Catherine had no need to speak of this to each other again; it no longer served any purpose. All they could do was wait and hope for an unlikely miracle.

  Immediately upon reaching the house, Catherine and Alice began preparations for the evening meal. Benjamin headed back out to the fields, wanting to tend to a few chores that could be addressed with the supplies he brought from town. Catherine made use of her time alone with Alice to offer a few comforting words as Benjamin had suggested. From Al
ice’s reaction, Catherine determined that it was not comforting words that she needed, it was retribution. Alice made it clear that she was angrier about having to hold her tongue than she was about the childish behavior of the men. That impressed Catherine; Alice was even stronger than Benjamin believed her to be.

  When Billy arrived at the house, he retrieved a four foot long wooden stick that was hanging above the door, and grabbed a pouch from a hook on the wall beneath it.

  “Are we going bird hunting now, Billy?” Sally asked.

  “We can go as soon as you are ready,” he answered.

  “I’m ready,” she replied excitedly. “Alice, won’t you come with us?”

  “Yes, please come along,” said Billy. “We will show you how to hunt for birds.”

  “I’d love to, honey,” said Alice, “but I think I should stay and help with the meal.”

  “You should go,” said Catherine. “I will take care of the meal, and Silvey will be along soon to help. It will help put your unfortunate experience out of your mind, and will do you good to have some fun. Go with them.”

  “Okay, I think I would like to go,” Alice said. “Won’t you need a gun? What’s that long pole for?”

  “Come on; we’ll show you,” said Billy. “We have everything we need.”

  Alice and the two youngsters trotted off toward the woods beyond the edge of the cotton fields. As they walked, Billy explained his bird hunting technique.

  “This tube is a piece of river cane. There’s plenty of it growing around here along the creeks and rivers. The Cherokee have used it to make blowguns as long as anyone can remember. A tugawesti is a great way to hunt small animals, especially birds, and almost every young Cherokee has one. It takes a while to get the hang of shooting a dart, but it works really well. It’s very quiet too; so if you miss, you often can take a second shot.”

  He handed the blowgun to Alice for her to examine. It was straight and hollow all the way through, and the outside had been decorated with painted bands and symbols. There was soft jute wrapped around one end to make a mouthpiece.