Timecachers

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Timecachers Page 47

by Glenn R. Petrucci


  The first soldier shook his head in disbelief at the man’s callousness, but made no reply to him. “Get going as quickly as you can,” he said to Benjamin. He grabbed the other soldier by the arm, leading him away.

  Benjamin and Isaac used a blanket to rig up a tent-like covering in the wagon to cover Sally. It would make it more difficult for the women to tend to her, but it might keep some of the dust away. They had barely finished when the next pair of soldiers came along, yelling at them to get moving. Sally’s hacking had eased for the moment, so Benjamin obliged the soldiers by pulling the wagon back in line.

  The tent helped a little, although much of the fine, red dust still managed to find its way around the sides and onto Sally. The soldier had been right, the dust was even worse toward the rear.

  The march continued until late evening, when the officers passed word down the line to stop for the night. It was barely dusk, but they had arrived at some open pastureland that would serve as a good place to camp. They needed the remaining light for the Cherokees to prepare their evening meals from the rations they brought. Tents were made available, but most of the Indians were too hot and too tired to need them. Many simply collapsed on the ground, some not even possessing the energy to eat.

  Sally was in dire shape. She rasped with every breath, and her fever was once again elevated. Silvey warmed some of Constance’s broth over their campfire, which Catherine hoped would sooth her raw throat. Sally would take in very little, most of which she could not swallow without setting off another coughing fit. She became frustrated with the effort, and even Alice could not persuade her to continue eating. She was exhausted, sleeping very little during her ride. The bumping and jostling of the wagon had kept her awake even when she wasn’t choking on dust.

  Jimmy, Rebecca, and Adam made their camp along with the Rogers family. Rebecca made a strong, sweet-smelling tea from the bark of a cherry tree, which she said would sooth Sally’s throat and ease her coughing, helping her get to sleep. As she encouraged her to sip the soothing brew, Alice told Sally’s favorite story, Basil, the Builder Beaver, which she never seemed to tire of hearing. Alice had barely gotten halfway through the story before the girl fell asleep, soon followed by the rest of the group.

  The sound of reveille woke them at sunrise. With barely enough time for morning routines or a quick breakfast, the Cherokees were once again jostled into line to continue their march. The livestock were given adequate care, considered more important than the Indians, especially to the Georgia Militia who were finally ridding themselves of the primary obstacle to procuring the valuable Cherokee lands.

  Sally continued to sleep as Benjamin tenderly carried her to her place in the wagon. She had slept fitfully during the night, her fever elevated though she seemed slightly cooler this morning. Catherine gently washed her face once again, and situated her into a comfortable position, careful not to wake her. Her breathing was still labored and shallow.

  The forced march commenced, absent of any elation the freedom from the fort had given them. Having no other choice, they shuffled on, muscles aching from the previous day of walking and the night spent on the hard, damp ground. The morning dew that had been keeping the dust to a minimum burned off quickly as the rising sun, bright and hot, assured another scorching, dusty day. By mid-morning, the billowing red dust clouds enveloped everything.

  Sally drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep for most of the morning. When she finally became fully awake, she was struck by a violent fit of coughing and hacking as her lungs tried to clear themselves of the thick mucus and dust. Catherine held her as she hung over the side of the wagon spitting out globs of phlegm. Sally reeled from the effort, slipping and banging her head against the side of the bouncing wagon. Her mother gripped her tightly, preventing her from falling under the turning wagon wheels, but the blow had rendered the girl unconscious. Catherine screamed at Benjamin, who was driving the wagon, to stop as she clung to the limp girl. He immediately reined the horses, bringing the wagon to a halt, and helped Catherine pull Sally back to safety.

  Benjamin looked at his daughter, who was unconscious, covered in dirt-caked mucus, and bleeding from the gash on her forehead. He slammed his fist on the wooden seat and said, “That’s it! We go no further.” He had stopped the wagon in the center of the road, causing all who followed behind to detour around him.

  A redheaded sergeant rode up to investigate the cause of the congestion. “What’s all the shenanigans here, laddie, holdin’ everything up? You’ll be gettin’ this wagon moving!” the sergeant said in a heavy Irish accent.

  Benjamin scowled. “I will not! My daughter is sick and now injured and I must stop to care for her.”

  “Ye cannot stop here, ye dosser. Care for her if ye must, but keep your wagon moving!”

  “No! The dust is too much for her. She needs to rest and breathe air free of all this dirt.”

  “I said get yer arse up the yard now, afore I deal you a sockdolager to knock ye to motion!” the short-tempered Irishman commanded forcefully, clenching his fists.

  Benjamin was not intimidated. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the soldier, daring the man to force him to move.

  The sergeant unholstered his pistol and leveled it at Benjamin. “I told ye to get this wagon movin’. I will not tell ye again.”

  Benjamin continued to stare obstinately at the man, clearly intending to ignore his order. A small crowd of Cherokees had gathered around the wagon, witnessing the exchange. A few grumbled in protest, but most remained silent, waiting to see what would happen next.

  “I will not endanger my child’s life further. Shoot me if you will, but we are stopping here until she recovers.”

  “I’ve had about all the effrontery I’m gonna take from ye,” the soldier said, aiming his pistol truculently at Benjamin’s head.

  “At ease, sergeant!” a voice commanded. Captain Martin had ridden up behind him to investigate the gathering crowd.

  “Sir,” the sergeant said lowering his pistol but keeping it pointed at Benjamin. “This here coffer refuses to move. His wagon is blocking the road and he will not obey me orders.”

  “Holster that weapon, sergeant.” Captain Martin recognized Benjamin and asked, “What is wrong, Benjamin? Is your daughter worsening?”

  “She is. The dust from the trail is severely impairing her breathing, and she has fallen and hit her head. I will not go on until she can be tended to.”

  The Captain looked into the wagon at Sally and said, “I see, but you cannot block the road. Please pull over to the side so the others can pass.” He looked at the sergeant and said, “That will be all sergeant. Back to your duties.”

  He shook his redheaded mop in disbelief. “But I …”

  “I said that will be all,” Martin commanded. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “Yes, sir!” The sergeant jerked his horse’s reins, whipping around and galloping off.

  “The rest of you move along,” Martin said to the crowd of Cherokees. Benjamin moved the wagon to the side of the road as the crowd dispersed.

  “For heaven’s sake, we must get her out of all this dust for a while,” Alice told Captain Martin. “Her fever is back, and she can hardly breathe.”

  “I can allow them some time to tend to her, but they must be back on the move before the line passes.”

  “That is impossible,” said Benjamin. “She cannot travel in all this dust.”

  “And the blow to her head may have given her a concussion,” said Alice. “Moving her too much could kill her, you fool!”

  Catherine gasped at Alice’s statement. “Captain, please! You must not put my daughter’s life in more jeopardy.”

  Captain Martin was at a loss for words, not at all pleased with Alice for frightening the girl’s mother, perhaps needlessly. His charge was to bring this group to Ross’s Landing, and he could not disobey his orders, yet he felt sympathy for the Rogers.

  “Captain,” said Benjamin, “
please let us stay here until we are sure Sally is able to travel. We can follow later, perhaps by tomorrow, well behind the line and out of the dust. I give you my word I will continue on to Ross’s Landing as soon as Sally is recovered.”

  “I cannot simply take your word for that! If you were to run off, I could face court-martial for dereliction of my duties!”

  “If Benjamin gives you his word,” said Adam, “you can be certain he’ll keep it. If I know him at all, I know that.”

  Captain Martin stared at him with incredulity. These people expected him to trust them not to run off if he gave them a chance? They must think him a fool. Still, if he ordered them on and something happened to the little girl… He looked at Benjamin and detected not a hint of deception, only the pleading face of a loving parent, and thought of his own daughters. He could hardly believe what he was considering.

  “He’d better. I will allow you to camp here and tend to her, but you must be on your way before I return with the next group. Otherwise, you will travel once again in their dust. If you attempt to run off, the military will find you and I cannot be accountable for the consequences.”

  “Wado, Captain Martin,” said Benjamin. “I have given you my word, and will not break it.”

  “And I have the word of you others as well?” Captain Martin asked Jimmy and Rebecca. They nodded in agreement, as did the two slaves. He accepted their promise, wheeled his horse, and galloped off. He was certain he had just destroyed his career.

  Chapter fifty-two

  Benjamin made camp in a shady clearing well away from the well-traveled road, adjacent to a much smaller and less used trail coming down from the mountains to the west. The small glen was quiet and protected from the elements with a nearby stream for fresh water. It was a good place to make their camp while Sally recovered. The distraught father carried her from the wagon and gently laid her on a bed of soft leaves and blankets. Catherine bandaged her forehead and kept her cool with a damp cloth while Rebecca scoured the area for plants she could use for medications. Sally had not recovered consciousness since hitting her head on the wagon. She was breathing easier, but her fever had become even higher.

  Jimmy and Billy had gone off hunting fresh meat for their dinner, and the two slaves busied themselves with gathering firewood and other chores, leaving Alice and Adam the opportunity to speak privately.

  “With everything else that’s been going on,” said Alice, “we haven’t had a chance to think about our own problems. Have you thought any more about how we can get home?”

  “I’ve thought about it almost constantly,” said Adam. “I haven’t had any other ideas, though, other than hoping we’d be led to a solution that would take us back.”

  “You haven’t mentioned the LANav for a while. Is that thing even still working?”

  “I’ve kept it out of sight for obvious reasons, but yes, it’s still working. I’ve checked it from time to time when I had the chance. For a while it showed four separate points on the display when I set it to ‘show current location’. One was always at my location, so I assumed the other three dots were you, Sal, and Tom. I confirmed that when we met up at the fort; the four dots became three. Some time back, the three points became only two—one at our location and another that has moved around quite a bit. I assume that must mean that Tom and Sal are together now.”

  “Oh, dear! Or it could mean that…” Alice didn’t finish her thought.

  “That something happened to one of them? Yes, I thought about that too. Not something I want to consider without knowing for sure. Anyway, the second dot has been moving steadily toward us. If it is either Tom or Sal, or hopefully both, we’ll all be together soon.” Adam pulled out the LANav and held it up to show Alice the two flashing dots on the display. As she watched, the two green dots moved slightly closer together. “It’s kind of incredible that it can track all of our current locations.”

  “You find that kind of incredible?” She looked at him wide-eyed. “The damn thing sent us back in time! After that, I’m not going to be surprised by anything it can do!”

  “Yeah, point taken. Guess that was just the geek in me talking. Anyway, from the speed the dots are converging, they should be here sometime tomorrow. It will be good to see them both, and hopefully they’ve had a less eventful time than we have.”

  “Hopefully-- if it’s even them. With Sal, though, I’ve a feeling their time won’t have been less eventful.”

  “You’re probably right about that,” Adam replied with half a grin.

  Jimmy and Billy returned from their hunt with several squirrels and a couple of rabbits. Alice helped Silvey with the preparation of the food, leaving Catherine and Rebecca free to tend to Sally. Rebecca had managed to find a number of suitable plants to concoct several herbal remedies. She applied a topical salve to the wound on her forehead, but could not administer any of her internal remedies while the girl was unresponsive.

  Suddenly, while Catherine was cradling her daughter’s head, she jolted awake and began to vomit. When the spasm finally passed, she lolled her head and asked, “Where am I? What happened?”

  “Shh,” her mother said. “You hit your head on the wagon and we have stopped here to camp. Just rest now.”

  “The wagon? Why were we in the wagon? Oh, my head is ringing and I’m going to be sick again.” She vomited violently again. When she calmed, she fell back into a semi-stupor, mumbling incoherently.

  Rebecca rushed to her side and examined her, finding one of her pupils to be grossly dilated. “The blow may have been more serious than we thought,” Rebecca said. “Her head could be bleeding inside. We must try to keep her calm.”

  Rebecca was able to administer a few sips of her herbal tea, which she said would help to settle her stomach and quiet her, although each time Sally moved, she quivered and retched. Catherine was beside herself with anxiety for her child. Benjamin did his best to withhold a show of emotion for Catherine’s sake, lovingly hugging his wife, trying to provide comfort. Alice took her place next to Rebecca, stroking Sally’s head and speaking softly to her.

  “Your voice seems to calm her even more than my tea,” said Rebecca. “Keeping her still is imperative; you should keep talking to her.”

  Alice kept her vigil, speaking tenderly, telling her Basil the Beaver stories and anything else she could think of. No one felt like eating, but they passed around a few morsels while everyone sat in a tight circle around Sally, all listening to Alice’s soothing whispers. They sat like that for hours, as the night descended upon them. Catherine and Benjamin embraced, their free hands upon Sally, while Rebecca nursed her with sips of herbal tea when she was able to take it in.

  It was nearly midnight when Sally abruptly called out for her mother. Alice stopped speaking, and Catherine answered, “I am right here, ayoli.”

  Sally looked up at her mother and father and said, “I was down at the river with Basil, mommy. He told me to tell you and daddy to be forgiving, like the way he forgave the animals that wanted to live in his home.” Then her eyes closed, and she shuddered.

  Rebecca moved to her side and placed her hand on the little girl’s tiny neck and gasped. “I’m so sorry,” she said to Catherine and Benjamin. “I’m afraid she…”

  “No!” cried Catherine. “Eee! That cannot be! You are wrong! She is just sleeping!”

  Rebecca looked at Benjamin and shook her head. With tears flowing down his face, he tightly embraced his shuddering wife. Billy moved forward, entwined his arm with Catherine, his eyes locked in disbelief on Sally’s motionless body. He tried to say something to comfort his mother, but choked on his tears and could not speak.

  Benjamin struggled with a flood of thoughts and emotions, anger second only to his overwhelming grief. He had always been a peaceful man with gentle ways, living as he taught his children, loving his fellow man and selflessly forgiving those who caused him pain. His daughter’s last words echoed in his head, asking him to be forgiving. He would do anything his daughte
r asked, but for this, there could be no forgiveness. He could only resolve to display no visible sign; he would harbor his outrage within. Hatred for those who had stolen the life of his precious child had permanently etched a vein of blackness upon his heart.

  Neither Alice nor Adam had ever experienced a death first hand, let alone the death of a child. The sorrow and loss Alice felt was intense. Sally had found her way into her heart, and Alice had begun to imagine her as the daughter she would like to have someday. Always having been focused on her career, she had not given much thought to parenthood. Sally had touched her in a way that made her realize she had maternal instincts after all.

  Rebecca, though outwardly stoic, was also profoundly affected. Her empathy for the Rogers’ loss was intensified by thoughts of the child she carried, when faced with the possibility of losing her baby during the attack. Her heart went out to Catherine and Benjamin, understanding the devastation they would have to bear.

  The night’s silence was broken only by the faint sound of mournful weeping. Suddenly, a startling, ear-piercing screech of an owl echoed through the camp. Catherine gasped, the color drained from her face as she searched the branches of the trees above her in overt panic.

  “Quickly! We must gather closely around Sally,” Benjamin whispered urgently. “She is still vulnerable.”

  The group closed ranks, forming a tighter circle around the little girl’s body. They built four small fires, one at the head, another at the foot, and one at each side of Sally. Rebecca began speaking in Tsalagi, the others joining in, reciting the undulating words in harmony with her. Although he was not able to understand the words, Adam surmised that it was a prayer. He sat closely around Sally with the others, keeping his head bowed reverently, expressing his sorrow for Sally and her family in the only way he knew how, in respectful silence. At the end of the prayer, Jimmy leaned near him and offered an explanation.

  “The time of death is very crucial in Cherokee tradition,” he said. “For several hours before and after death, the dead or dying person is at his most vulnerable to evil forces who will try to invade the body. That is why it is necessary for all of us to gather close to Sally and pray; to keep them at bay. It is not important for you to pray in Tsalagi. Christian prayer, or even just your loving thoughts, will work equally well.”

 

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