by Edward Gates
Charlie had a feeling that Captain Ross didn’t have as much pull with the Confederate officers as he was letting on. Being a part of a Ranger battalion was an exciting fantasy for Charlie. But that dream now looked farther and farther away. He was now convinced that running off with Dave, Ed and Walter was the right move… regardless of the possible consequences.
Bivouac fires were lit when the sun finally set. Charlie crawled out of his tent. The army-issued dinnerware, cartridge belt, cap, rifle and haversack were all left inside the tent; Dave had taken Charlie’s personal belongings earlier in the day. He watched as men gathered around the fires for some evening social time. The sounds of a harmonica, jaw harp, fiddle and cigar-box banjo filled the air. Charlie slowly walked down the row of tents past the fires and the men around them.
He stopped at the last fire a few tents away from the end of the row and waited for the sentries to pass. The evening temperature had dropped several degrees. He saw the glow of the teamsters’ campfire off in the distance. When the sentries passed, he began his count. He slowly stepped away from the fire and walked to the end of the tent row, casually glancing back to the fire. None of the men paid any attention to Charlie. … Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine.
When he reached the last tent he stepped into the shadows of the tents and away from the firelight …Sixty, sixty-one, sixty-two… I got about two minutes. Even though the air was chilly, Charlie began to sweat. He waited for a moment to see whether anyone other than the sentries was around. He gave a final look back up the row of tents to make sure no one was watching or coming his way…Seventy-four, seventy-five, seventy-six… Plenty of time.
Charlie stepped away from the tent shadows and tripped over a tent support rope, hitting the ground with a thud. He froze for a few moments, listening. Nobody came. He lost count and didn’t know how much time he had before the sentries returned. Staying in his prone position, he crawled into the tall prairie grass and froze when he heard the crunching of boots on dried grass. Someone was coming. Charlie twisted his head to look back at the camp. The silhouettes of the two sentries, backlit by the camp’s fires, walked past him only a few yards away. They didn’t stop.
He watched them until they were no longer in view. He climbed to his feet and, hunched over at the waist, quickly made his way across the grassy plain heading directly toward the glow of Dave’s campfire. No one hollered at him or came after him. He made a clean getaway.
When Charlie reached the campfire, he was breathing heavily, more from exhilaration than exertion. Dave, Ed and Walter all welcomed him in a whisper.
“Keep your voice down,” Dave warned. “Sound travels a ways in this flat land.”
Charlie nodded and looked around. The camp wasn’t set up at all. No bedrolls were set, and no food was prepared. The campfire was small in comparison to the ones they normally built. The horses were saddled and the mules were packed. Charlie looked at the bay and saw his duster draped over the saddle and his bedroll tied behind it.
“Let’s move.” Dave stood and the others followed. They all grabbed the reins of the horses and mules and began walking northward away from the campfire, Crockett and the army.
“Shouldn’t we put out that fire?” Charlie whispered.
In unison they turned back to Charlie and shook their heads without a word. Charlie shrugged his shoulders, grabbed the reins of the bay and began walking his horse along with the others.
With no moon, the prairie was dark as pitch. Charlie had trouble seeing the other men right in front of him. They walked in silence for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Dave stopped and climbed into the saddle of his horse. The rest all mounted their horses. Charlie slipped on his duster and climbed into the saddle on the bay.
“It’s good to have ya back, Charlie,” Ed said.
“You have no idea how glad I am to be back with you guys.”
“We’ll ride for a little ways before we camp,” Dave said. “I want to get as much land between us and them soldiers as we can.” Dave started his horse at a walk and they all followed.
“Where are we heading?”
“Tonight we just want to get to a spot where the army won’t be able to see our camp,” Ed answered. “Tomorrow we’ll pick up the Neches River and follow it on into Tyler.”
“Tyler? It’ll be good to get into a town again,” Charlie said.
“Well, it might not be so good for you. You’re gonna have to stay out of sight for a while,” Ed said.
“Out of sight? Why? You mean I can’t go into Tyler?”
“You just ran away from the army, son,” Dave interjected. “Folks here don’t look too kindly at fellas that run off from the Southern army.”
Charlie didn’t know what to say. His earlier conversation with Jack about the repercussions of fleeing from the army raced through his mind.
“Don’t mind it too much. It’ll just be for a few days ‘til we git to north Texas,” Dave continued. “Most folks up there are Yankee sympathizers and won’t pay you no mind.”
“Well, now, that’s certainly comforting.” Charlie shook his head. This just keeps getting better, he thought. First I get traded for safe passage, then rescued by those who traded me, and now I’m a fugitive on the run with my rescuers.
“Don’t fret, Charlie. We’ll be home in a couple weeks,” Walter said as he walked his horse alongside.
Charlie nodded. He thought about home. He knew Walter was talking about Fort Smith, but he wasn’t thinking of that. For the first time in months Charlie thought about his father and his warm, comfortable apartment in New York. He tried to think of Angel, but had trouble recalling her face. But it didn’t bother him. He would normally dismiss thoughts of the era he came from. This time he found those thoughts comforting. He smiled as he rode along in silence… remembering the good times from the twenty-third century. He’d finally accepted the fact that he could never go back. And with that acceptance came a degree of peace. He was pleased that the anger and resentment of his situation were no longer with him. He could look back at his past and recall good memories while he looked forward to his future… in the nineteenth century.
47
Trip Home
When the teamsters entered Tyler, Charlie stayed hidden in the woods outside of town near the river. After nightfall, he snuck into the livery and slept with the horses and mules. For the next seven days, to minimize the possibility of trouble, they skirted any civilization they came across. On the eighth day they crossed the Red River into southern Arkansas. Charlie was glad to get out of Texas. They made their way north through the backwoods of southwestern Arkansas. There were a few settlements in that area, but the teamsters avoided them.
Navigating some of the harshest parts of the country for the past six months had taken its toll on Charlie. He was exhausted, sore and considerably thinner. His hands were callused and his skin leathered by the elements. The teamsters were rained on, snowed on, bogged down in mud and hampered by snow drifts and nearly frozen rivers. They experienced sleepless nights and long boring days where they would nod off to sleep through the rhythmic swaying of the oxen plodding along. On more than one occasion one of them would fall asleep in his seat and tumble out of the wagon. A few stretches between settlements and towns were so long that they ran out of some provisions and had to skimp on meals. Along the way, they buried a good friend and companion and met new friends and acquaintances.
On a cloudy afternoon in mid-April 1863, the four teamsters rode into the city of Fort Smith. Their journey was over. Charlie was so glad to finally be off the road that tears welled up in his eyes. It seemed as if this day would never come. There were moments on his trip where he thought he’d never make it back.
They rode to the rear of Max’s warehouse, dismounted and tied the horses and mules to hitch rails. Charlie was surprised by the large number of Confederate soldiers in the area. Usually the garrison was manned by a small detachment whose purpose was the recruitment and training of personnel
for the Confederate army, but now the fort seemed to be overflowing with soldiers. Afraid that he might be drafted back into service or, worse yet, arrested for being a deserter, he pulled his hat down lower to hide his face.
Dave pulled the satchel from his saddle horn and they all entered the warehouse. They walked into Max’s office without knocking. Initially, Max appeared upset that someone would barge into his office but broke into a wide smile when he saw who it was. He got up from his desk and came around to greet the four teamsters.
“By God! You made it back. Damn, it’s good to see you all.” Max shook everyone’s hands and patted their shoulders. Dave and Ed sat in the two leather chairs facing Max’s desk. Walter and Charlie sat on a small sofa against the wall opposite the desk. The five exchanged pleasantries and generally discussed the trip for an hour or so. There was a brief discussion regarding Jesse where condolences and memories were shared. After a while, the general small talk slid to a marked silence.
“Walter, why don’t you head on home? I’m sure your daughter will be glad to see you. I’ll have your pay for you tomorrow and we can talk some more,” Max said.
“Sure thing, Mr. Weatherby. I’ll see you in the morning.” Walter rose, said his goodbyes and left the office.
Max looked at Charlie and smiled. “You know, you look a bit different than you did when you left here.”
“Really? How so?”
“Well, other than some weight loss, and a few layers of dirt and whiskers, you ain’t changed all that much. But I noticed the way you walked in here. There’s a change in your attitude. I can tell you’ve hardened a bit.” Max smiled again. “Looks like you growed up some on this trip.”
Charlie smiled back at Max. “Yeah. I suppose I did at that.”
He had come of age in the last half year. He gained muscle and became leaner. He learned how people lived in this era and developed a skill set that would allow him to survive here. Most importantly, he gained grit. The timid, anxiety-laden boy that went out of his way to avoid conflict was no more. He now believed he could stand with or against any man and handle any situation presented to him with a poise and confidence that he had never known before.
“Charlie, I want to have a nice long talk with you. But it’s a little late in the day. We’ll get together tomorrow morning, I need to talk business with Dave and Ed first.” Max sat back in his chair behind his desk. “Ben Fricker’s still got a room for you. But from here on it ain’t free. It’s ten dollars a month. You pay that to Ben.”
Charlie nodded and headed for the door, then stopped. “What about the horse?”
“The horse?” Max asked, looking at Charlie and then to Dave.
“We came by a few horses in Indian territory,” Dave explained. “Fellas didn’t seem to need them anymore so we took ‘em. I sold two of them in Fort Larned and gave another away to a colonel in Texas. We each rode one back from Galveston. Charlie’s been ridin’ an old bay.”
“You like that horse?” Max asked Charlie, who nodded. “Well, then, keep it. It’s yours. I’ll have your money for you when we talk tomorrow.”
Charlie left the warehouse and pulled his valise from the mule’s pack. He rode the bay to four different livery barns before he found one at the north end of town that had room. It was a long walk back to Ben Fricker’s General Store.
“Afternoon, sir. What can I do for you today?” Ben cheerfully said as Charlie entered the store.
“Mr. Fricker. I’m Charlie Turlock. I stayed in that room you have upstairs about six months ago.”
The storekeeper squinted and took a long look at Charlie. “Land’s sakes! It is you. Well, I’ll be…” Ben turned and hollered at his wife in the back room. “Maggie! Come on out here! Mr. Turlock finally got back!” He turned back to Charlie. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you when you came in. It’s the whiskers and all.”
“It’s all right. No apology needed. I would’ve been surprised if you did recognize me. I only stayed here one night.” Charlie smiled at Ben. “And call me Charlie.”
Ben smiled back. “Charlie it is.”
Maggie entered from the back room with a smile on her face, drying her wet hands on her apron.
“Afternoon, Mr. Turlock. Welcome back. I hope you had a good trip?”
Maggie Fricker stood just under five feet tall and that was with heels on. A stocky woman with clear, smooth skin, she wore her brown hair tied up in the back and had the bluest eyes Charlie had ever seen.
“It’s good to be back, Mrs. Fricker.”
She laughed. “Oh, no. No, that won’t do. You have to call me Maggie. Everybody knows me as Maggie and that’s what you’ll be callin’ me.”
Charlie smiled and nodded. “All right, I’ll call you Maggie… but only if you call me Charlie.”
“Agreed!” Maggie took a step closer, “You look like you could use a bath and a good meal.” She grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the back room. “I got a nice stew going back here and we have a tub out back. You sit down back here and have some supper and I’ll start heating some bathwater for you.”
Charlie was too tired to argue and, besides, it was an offer he couldn’t pass up. He followed Maggie to a room behind the store.
The large back room of Fricker’s General Store was mainly a receiving and storage area for the store’s inventory. But it was also the owner’s living quarters. They carved out an area in this room where a small woodstove stood against the back wall. A simple wooden table with three chairs was in front of the stove and an old rocker sat off to one side. A double bed and nightstand took up the wall to the right of the stove. A washstand and a single bed for their son was on the opposite wall. A door in the back wall opened outside to the rear of the building. Just outside the door, next to the wall, sat a metal bathtub. Charlie surveyed the rest of the backyard and noticed several small garden areas. He looked at Maggie.
“Grow your own vegetables?”
“Oh, yes. We sell them out front. We eat what don’t sell. I’ll put some of them up in jars and sell them or keep them in the root cellar for later on.” She grabbed Charlie’s hand again and pulled him back inside. “Come on, now.” She pushed him down in a chair at the table. “Now you sit on down here and eat this stew. I’ll get some water heated for your bath and then I’m gonna make up your room.”
“Mrs. … I mean, Maggie, you don’t need to go to all this trouble for me.”
“Don’t you go tellin’ me what’s trouble.” Maggie dished out a large ladle of stew in a tin bowl and set it in front of Charlie with a plate of bread. “Now you hush up and eat your fill. And don’t get bashful about askin’ for more.”
Charlie ate his fill of stew, had a warm, relaxing bath and went upstairs to his room. There, all washed and nicely folded on his chair, were the clothes that he’d left there six months ago. The floor had been swept and the furniture dusted; fresh linens were on the bed. He smiled. “I think I’m gonna like it here,” he mumbled. He emptied his valise onto the floor. All his clothes, including the ones he was wearing, were dirty and some needed mending. He’d take care of that in the morning.
As the sun began to set, Charlie looked out at the garrison across the street. Hundreds of tents covered the parade grounds and soldiers milled around everywhere. With all these soldiers around, something must be about to happen, he thought. He tried to remember whether his father had talked about Civil War battles around Fort Smith. None came to mind. He looked at the bag containing the time belt on the bed and thought about jumping forward in time to check the historical events for Fort Smith. Then again, he figured it wouldn’t be necessary. He was certain Max would know something about the buildup of soldiers. Max seems to know everything that happens around here.
Charlie walked away from the window and pulled the time belt out of its canvas bag. It dawned on him that he hadn’t taken any time to explore this device and find out all its capabilities. He drew down the window shade, strapped on the time belt, turned on the
switch and placed his finger on the small sensor screen. The familiar blue-green light formed a cocoon around him and the virtual display appeared before his eyes. He watched the counter begin the countdown. He placed the display in standby mode and the counter stopped.
Charlie studied the virtual display: two date and time displays, one showing current information and the other for destination including the longitude and latitude. With certain switch settings, the display could be used to search a database contained in the belt. Charlie entered a search for Civil War battles in Arkansas. There were only a few and none were around Fort Smith. He shut down the time belt and stashed it back in the canvas bag.
With no answer from the database, Charlie was still confused about the build-up of troops. They were either mustering to go on an attack or expecting an attack. Well, I guess I’ll just have to find out what’s going on the old-fashioned way, he thought. I’ll ask Max in the morning.
48
Meeting
Charlie woke with the sunlight streaming in through the window. In his hazy, half-awake state of mind, he recalled Max’s words about starting work at first light. He knew he should get up but didn’t want to. Normally, he would jump out of bed and rush to get to Max’s warehouse, fearing the consequences of being late to work. This morning he decided to take his time. Let him fire me.
Eventually he pulled himself out of bed and dressed in his old clothes. Thanks to Maggie, they were the only clean clothes he owned. He carefully shaved. Over the past eight months he had become fairly proficient in the use of a shaving cake, brush and straight razor. His many shaving accidents attested to the fact that shaving in the nineteenth century was an acquired skill, to say the least. He bundled up his soiled clothes, left his room and dropped them at the nearest laundry. He stopped at a café on the way to the warehouse. Breakfast was buckwheat flapjacks with honey and jam. Charlie ate his fill and savored several cups of coffee that wasn’t flavored with campfire smoke and burnt wood.