Timecachers (23 page)

“Good. What do you think is the importance of that story?”

“Well, I think it means that it is not always possible to have what you want, no matter how much you want it.”

“That is right. Sometimes we must accept things as they are, because it is their nature. A fish may want to be a deer, because he is tired of swimming and wants to run through the forest, but he can never be a deer because his nature is to be a fish.”

“But why couldn’t they go live somewhere between the North and the South?” asked Sally.

“Ah, leave it to my little Butterfly to want to find a way to keep the lovers together,” Benjamin said, smiling and stroking her long black hair. “Do you think that either of them would be fully happy if neither could live close to their friends and family?”

“No, I guess not,” said Sally sadly.

“Sometimes, compromise can be an excellent way to work things out, but not if both sides have to give up so much, or go against their nature so much that neither can be satisfied. It would be good if our guests keep this story in mind when they visit the town tomorrow. I know that the circumstances that put you here are highly unusual, and from the things you have told me, you believe that you are aware of things to come, things that are not pleasant. It is admirable that you have chosen to provide assistance and guidance to our people, to ease the turmoil that you believe they must face. That is a good decision, and I would like to believe that if the roles were reversed, I would have the courage to put others above myself as you are planning to do.

“It is unfortunate that you are likely to find the town much less peaceful than things appear to be here on our farm. The town has changed much in the last few years. It was a promising capital city, but that was short-lived. Many of the homes and businesses there have been abandoned, and most of what is left has already been appropriated by the whites. A stockade fort has been built there. There is much tension among the people, among and between the Cherokee and the Georgia whites, and I have to urge much caution to you. Your demeanor indicates that in the world you are from you may not have had much experience with the type of hostility that exists in our world.

“It is not in the nature of a Cherokee to casually offer advice, and I only do so out of concern for your safety, as in this short time you have all endeared yourselves to my family very much. It is a dangerous time, but you may take some precautions that will improve the likelihood of a hostile encounter. I suggest you keep the clothes we have lent you, as they are less conspicuous than your own, even if they are somewhat ill fitting. Alice, my wife will provide you with a dress, as a young lady wearing trousers is not often seen.

“You must be cautious of the conversations you engage in. It is likely you will hear many things said that you will disagree with, even be abrasive to you. I urge you to hold your tongue in these situations. It may be very dangerous for you to voice an opinion, or even to make a casual remark about something you find disagreeable.

“But my advice is not only in regards to your safety; I hope you will not find that in offering assistance you experience callousness and rejection from the people you want to help. You will do well to remember the story of the bride from the South. Some things you cannot change, no matter how badly you want to change them, if it goes against their nature.”

“Thank you, Benjamin,” said Adam, “we appreciate your advice and will take it to heart. I’m sure I can speak for Alice, Tom, and Sal when I say that we have become very fond of your family as well, and we are most grateful for the hospitality you have shown us. The little work we have done on your farm can hardly begin to show our gratitude.

“We also appreciate your concern for our wellbeing. While we may appear to be overly trusting and naive, we are also cautious. I admit that none of us has had the experience of such an inflammable situation as this. We hold no grandiose idea that we are persuasive enough to change the way people choose to behave, or prevent the things we believe are going to happen. It is true that we want to help in a larger way, knowing what we know of things to come. It is not completely selfless, however, as we believe that doing so may be the key to finding our way home. We feel that the device led us here for a reason, and once we have completed certain tasks it may lead us back home again. Maybe our being here can make some difference.”

“That does sound logical, Adam, but have you considered another possibility?” Benjamin asked.

“We’ve considered several,” said Adam, “but what possibility did you have in mind?”

“It may be that the device, your magic window, has brought you here as observers, giving you a glimpse of some important lesson from your country’s past that should not be forgotten. Perhaps the most difficult tasks you must perform will be when you return to your own time.”

Chapter twenty-two

T
he sun was barely over the treetops before they were on their way to New Echota. Isaac had the wagon hitched and ready to go by the time they finished breakfast. Benjamin sternly refused Billy and Sally’s request to come along. He could not be certain how their guests were going to react on this trip, or what sort of reaction the townsfolk may have to them. Tensions were already high, and he did not want the added concern for his children’s safety. He insisted that the rest of the family would be staying at home this time.

The team said their goodbyes to Catherine, Billy, and Sally, and thanked Isaac and Silvey for their hard work, although accepting their gratitude clearly made both of the slaves uncomfortable. Sally and Alice tearfully hugged, and Sally asked her if she would please come back soon and tell her some more stories like
Basil, the Builder Beaver
.

“Of course I’ll try, Sally dear. If I can, I will,” Alice said.

“Oh, I hope so.” Sally looked solemnly at Alice with moist eyes. The two had become especially fond of each other during their short visit. Alice gave the little girl a final hug before jumping into the wagon.

“
Dodadagohvi
,” said Catherine as they pulled away in the wagon. It was a word that loosely translated meant “until we meet again,” as there is no actual word for “goodbye” in Tsalagi.

“Goodbye,” they yelled back, “and
wado
!” They continued to wave until the wagon rounded a bend and the farmhouse was out of sight.

Benjamin hummed a tuneless song as he drove the wagon, only pausing to occasionally cluck at the horses and give them an encouraging smack with the reins. So far, the trip had been uneventful. The rutted road became a little less bumpy, although it was still far from a smooth ride. They passed by several farms and houses as the area became more populated. Tom asked Benjamin if the smoother road and additional houses indicated that they were getting close to town.

“Yes, there are more farms closer to town,” said Benjamin, “and the roads are more heavily traveled. There are even more homes and improvements after we cross the river. Unfortunately, there is no longer any growth in the town, and indeed many of the homes and businesses have been abandoned. The Cherokee who believe our removal is imminent have been fleeing steadily.”

“Man, I hope there are a few businesses left. I could really use a pizza,” said Sal, patting his stomach. “All this wholesome food and hard work ain’t good for my Jersey metabolism, you know.”

“Perhaps if you could describe what you are looking for,” said Benjamin helpfully, “I could help you find a whole one instead of just a ‘piece’ of one.”

“No, not a piece-a …. Oh, forget about it. I wouldn’t want to get sauce on my new country duds anyway.” Sal snapped the strap on his suspenders.

“Oh, come on, Sal.” said Alice. “The work was good for you, and you know you enjoyed the food at the farm.”

“We know you enjoyed it,
gv-li
girl,” Sal replied.

“Anyway,” Adam interjected to prevent another row. “You mentioned a river, Benjamin. How will we cross it? Is it shallow enough to ride across?”

“No, the river is quite deep and rapid here. There is a ferry just below the confluence of the Coosawattee and the Conasauga rivers. There could be a problem, however, because the operation of the ferry has been inconsistent for the last two years. That is when the McCoy family had to give up ownership of it. The whites who now own it usually have slaves assigned to keep it operating, but not always. The ferry is the only way for us to cross the Oostanaula River without taking a much longer route.”

“The Oosta-who River?” said Sal. “Dude, I thought you said it was the Coozy-whatsit and the Cona-sumthin-or-other Rivers?”

“The Coosawattee and the Conasauga rivers come together here to form the Oostanaula River,” Benjamin explained patiently.

As if on cue, they rounded the bend and the river came into view. They could see a large, flat-bottom boat, apparently the ferry, docked at the shore. Two black men sat on barrels next to the boat. They could see a heavy rope stretching across the river, which was tied to massive posts on both sides. A third black man sat on the opposite shore.

“It looks as though the ferry is in operation,” said Benjamin.

Without a word one of the ferrymen helped to guide the wagon onto the ferry while Benjamin spoke quietly with the other man. He negotiated the fee and handed him a few copper coins. He confirmed that the ferry would still be in operation when he returned. Using heavy, well-worn ropes, they tied both ends of the wagon to anchor points, securing it to the ferry. Benjamin indicated to the others to remain seated in the wagon while he stood at the front calming the horses.

The ferryman used a long pole to shove the boat away from the shore. He then rushed to a windlass mounted on the front of the ferry. The windlass was simply a large wooden spool through which a rope was fed, and a crank to turn the device. The rope was secured to anchors at both ends of the ferry and was connected to a large pulley, which in turn was attached to the main cable running across the river. By cranking the windlass, the ferryman was able to angle the front of the boat upstream, causing the river current to push it across at an angle.

The sensation of the moving current pushing the ferry sideways across the river made sitting in the wagon unnerving. Each time a wave rocked the ferry or one of the horses flinched, the wagon shifted, jogging its passengers.

At one particularly unsettling jolt, Sal yelled to the slave who was controlling the windlass, “Hey, easy there, pal. Is this thing OSHA approved?”

The black ferryman replied with a detached, “Yes, suh,” then shook his head and muttered something inaudible under his breath.

“Hold on tightly,” Benjamin said.

As they approached shore, the ferryman cranked the windlass to point the front of the boat toward the landing, letting momentum carry it the rest of the way. The wagon shuddered as the ferry hit the river bottom at the landing, and the horses shook the rig as they anxiously strained to get off the ferry. The third black man slowly got up from his barrel seat and helped Benjamin guide the horses and wagon off the ferry and back onto dry land.

“That wasn’t so bad,” said Adam, “but I’m glad it’s over with.” Alice nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” said Sal. “I bet that ride would be a big hit at Six Flags.”

“It can be a little disconcerting going across for the first time,” said Benjamin.

From the riverbank they could see several buildings along the perimeter of the town. The daunting structure of a fort stood on top of a nearby hill, overlooking the town like a feudal castle looming over its fiefdom. It was not an excessively large structure, although its imposing construction of sturdy log walls and defensive guard towers placed at each corner was undeniably intimidating. A United States flag flew from one of the towers.

“Tom,” said Adam, nodding toward the fort, “can you see that flag?”

“Yes, I can see it just good enough to count the twenty-six stars.”

“That is Fort New Echota,” said Benjamin. “The U.S. government put it here under the command of General Wool to maintain order after the so-called treaty of New Echota was ratified, though some feel its presence increased tensions. A while back General Wool was replaced by Colonel Lindsay. They renamed it Fort Wool back in March, in honor of its first commander. Since then Colonel Lindsay has built a new blockhouse and has been recruiting many new troops for his Georgia Guard. He has been very persistent in his demands that the Cherokee voluntarily report for removal. Some have done so. Major Ridge and many of his treaty party were in one of the first groups to leave, but the overwhelming majority refused to report.

“We should avoid the fort as much as possible, as the soldiers there are likely to harass us. There is a trading post here on the main road, operated by a white, where I can get the supplies I need. We will go there first.”

New Echota was barely more than a ghost town. Most of the smaller buildings were obviously abandoned and showing signs of disrepair. There were several large, impressive looking homes which appeared to be occupied. Leaving the ferry landing, they walked past a set of stables and a horse corral. Benjamin pointed out a large, two-story, log farmhouse just beyond the landing. The handsome house and substantial stable buildings brazenly depicted the prosperity of the property.

“This was the farm of the family who operated the ferry, before they were removed to the west. These most valuable properties were some of the first to be claimed by whites when Georgia conducted the land lottery.”