Timecachers (38 page)

“When they tried to use the bow and arrow, they found that their long claws got in the way. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t make the arrow go straight. One of the bears trimmed off his claws and tried again, and this time the arrow flew straight and true. ‘We just have to all cut off our claws,’ they decided. But the chief bear told them that they couldn’t do that, because they depended on their claws to fight and kill the other animals, and they would starve if they didn’t have claws anymore. They never did come up with a solution, so they just gave up and went home. If they had not given up, we would be at war with the bears. But since they did, a hunter can kill a bear without even needing to ask his forgiveness.

“Next, it was the deer who met, having the same grievance. ‘Too many of us are being killed by the men without any thought given to our sacrifice,’ they complained. The chief of the deer was called the Little Deer. He told them that what he would do is every time a deer was killed, he would run to the spot and ask the deer’s spirit if the hunter had asked the deer’s pardon. If he had, all would be well. If not, the spirit of Little Deer would follow the hunter, and when he caught up with him he would strike him down with a crippling disease, like rheumatism. That’s why it is important for a hunter to apologize to a deer whenever he kills one. If he forgets, or wants to make extra sure the Little Deer spirit doesn’t follow, he must stop and build several small fires in his path along the way home.

“The other animals liked this idea, so they all started coming up with their own diseases to inflict man with. Each animal named one, and soon there were so many new diseases that men might not have been able to survive if it was not for the plants, who were good friends with man. They decided that each one of them could be used as a cure for each disease the animals came up with. There are a lot of cures, and men don’t know them all, so sometimes the doctors have to communicate with the spirit of the plants to determine which plant cures which disease.”

Everyone, except Alice, had heard this story many times. No matter, they all enjoyed hearing it as often as someone was willing to do the telling. Alice especially enjoyed the part about the plants, and it led to a discussion about the various types of plants in the area and how they were used. She recalled how plants played a part at the very beginning of this adventure, remembering the poultice John Carter had made for his horse, and that his reason for being in the tiny valley was to gather those plants. Most of Alice’s interest in botany was in their use as a food source, but she was also intrigued by their many medicinal properties. She had once volunteered her time to a botanical exploration group whose focus was on discovering new plant species in the world’s rain forests. She had done some reading about the many plants, some still yet unknown, that had a possibility of use for cures of disease. She hadn’t given much thought to the medicinal plants in the forests of her own country. She asked her hosts if there were many types of medicinal plants in the woods nearby.

“Yes, there are many,” said Benjamin. “One of the most in demand is Ginseng, which grows up high on steep mountainsides. We call it the ‘little man’ because the root looks like a little old man. In the old days, it was only permitted to take every seventh plant, which meant you had to find at least seven to take one. Since the plant is scarce, that would assure there was always some available for the next person. But ginseng has become a much sought after herb, and now people take all they can find.”

“Snakeroot is another that is collected,” said Catherine. “We use it to treat snakebites and fevers, among other things. Also, orangeroot, or what you may call goldenseal, is a very important herb that can be found nearby. John probably used some Orangeroot in his horse’s poultice, as it can help reduce swelling. Goldenseal can also be used to treat cancer.”

“I think I’ve heard of people using goldenseal as a cancer cure, but medical research has determined that it doesn’t really work,” said Alice.

“That will be a disappointment to the people who have been cured by it,” Catherine said with a sly smile.

“Some of the other medicinal plants are black cohosh, cone-flower, may-apple, boneset, pinkroot, and witch-hazel,” Catherine continued. “We use partridge moccasin to treat worms, and milkweed juice to treat sores on our children’s heads. Catgut will strengthen your hair and skin. The ballplayers use that to toughen up their skin before playing.”

“If you are very interested,” said Benjamin, “a good person to speak with is Rebecca Deerinwater, Jimmy’s wife. Adam is visiting with them. Rebecca is
Ani-Sahoni
, Blue Holly clan, and has a lot of experience with making medicine from herbs and grows many of her own for that purpose. Her clan is well-known for their expertise at that.”

“I think that would be very interesting, Benjamin. I’d love to meet her, and hope I get the opportunity,” Alice said.

Sally and Billy had sat listening quietly to the discussion of medicinal plants, but Sally clearly had something else on her mind. “Will you tell us the story of
Basil, The Builder Beaver
again, Alice?” she pleaded. “I love that story.”

“Yes, of course I will, if that’s what everyone wants,” she said, looking around the room at the others.

“Please,” said Billy. “I liked it also.”

“We would all enjoy hearing it again,” said Benjamin.

Alice proceeded to tell the story again, using all the characterizations and sound effects that she used before, except this time the rest of the family joined in, each picking an animal from the story to imitate. By the time she finished, everyone was exhausted from the storytelling and laughter.

Benjamin yawned and stretched, and Catherine declared that bedtime had arrived. Sleep came easily for them all.

Chapter thirty-three

A
lice was awakened from a sound sleep by the aroma of cooking food. Jumping from bed, she quickly readied herself and headed to the kitchen, where Catherine, Silvey, and Sally were busily executing the morning kitchen chores. “
Osda sunalei
,” they said, greeting her with bright smiles.

“Oh, good morning. I didn’t mean to sleep late,” she said. “You should have wakened me.”

“I thought you could use some extra rest after your long day yesterday,” said Catherine, “but don’t worry, there’s always plenty to do! Benjamin and Billy have already eaten and gone to tend to the horses. We’ll join them in the fields later.”

Silvey set a place for her at the table with a huge plate of eggs and sausage, steaming coffee, bread, and a number of bowls with a variety of side dishes. Alice’s healthy appetite usually didn’t kick in until later in the day, and she normally did not eat more than a quick snack in the morning. This morning, however, she was ravenous, her appetite stimulated by all the fresh air and exercise she had been getting. She attacked the meal like a starved wolf with a fresh kill. She downed the strong, hot coffee with the same vigor, and the caffeine cleared away her remaining drowsiness.

While Alice finished her meal, Catherine began listing the chores for the day, mostly for Alice’s benefit, since much of it was routine for the others. There were the normal kitchen and household chores, along with livestock to feed, milking to do, buckets of water to fetch, firewood to stack, the kraut-barrel to see to—a seemingly endless list of routine chores—all before they got out to the fields. Catherine’s plan was to complete these chores, prepare a mid-day meal to bring to the men, and then spend the afternoon helping them to clear a neglected field of brush. It would be a typically full day on the Rogers’ farm and Alice needed no prompting to get started. She may have been less enthusiastic if this was her normal routine, but for now she was enjoying the change of pace. The sedentary routine of her regular job required her to fit in exercise during her leisure time. The physical labor required for this lifestyle was hard, but it was a wholesome feeling. Life on the Rogers’ farm was basic. The work was tough and the pleasures were simple. There were problems to be dealt with, but most were the kind of problems people could solve using their own labor and ingenuity. The way things should be, she thought. The way they were before the daily mundane chores had been replaced by the complexities of modern life. Sure, she appreciated the advantages of modern conveniences; she wasn’t so childish as to suggest technology should be abandoned. Rather she felt it was beneficial for her to temporarily do without, making her appreciate them all the more.

Here she also felt more connected to the people, the animals, even the land around her. In just this short time, she was beginning to get a true understanding of what leaving behind the land that people had worked for their entire lives, and the entire lives of their ancestors, would mean to them.

The morning passed quickly. They hauled the mid-day meal out to the fields and served it in the usual spot under the oak tree. While they ate, Benjamin explained to Alice that the field he wanted to clear was a spot that had been neglected, and ridding it of the overgrowth would be laborious. He planned to make good use of the field for the late summer vegetables he wanted to plant. He told her that he expected the clearing to take several days, although because the days were getting longer as summer approached, with the extra daylight they may be able to complete the job in less time.

The field was about six acres and had been lying fallow for about three years. There were not any large trees to remove, although the brush had thrived. The majority of it could simply be cut and hauled to a burn pile. The larger roots had to be dug or chopped out of the ground with a mattock to prepare the field for plowing. While the men chopped at the roots, the women carried and dragged the cut brush to a huge pile, where it would be allowed to season and set on fire.

They worked hard and managed to complete the job in a single afternoon. Now Benjamin would have his extra field, ready to be plowed and planted. The workers stood looking at the field, taking a few moments to admire the results of their hard work. A passerby might wonder at seeing seven people silently gazing at an empty field, but to the exhausted workers it was a glorious site. The workers themselves, haggard and fatigued, were far from glorious. Every bit of exposed skin was covered with a mixture of dust and sweat; faces streaked and smeared where it had been wiped away from their eyes, nose, and mouth. Their clothing, also covered in dirt, suffered from every sort of abuse—tears, rips, snags, and frays.

They dragged themselves back to the farmhouse after a quick stop at the barn to put away their tools. Elated with the progress on the field, Benjamin suggested that tomorrow they might suspend their chores for an hour or two and take another fishing trip. His suggestion energized them all, animating their previously quiet and sluggish procession into a lively discussion of fishing holes and techniques.

They used several buckets of water from the rain barrel to remove as much of the dirt from their hands, arms, and faces as they could. The strenuous work had given them all a healthy appetite, so a thorough washing was going to have to wait until after they ate. There had been no time for extravagant food preparations, which meant that their evening meal would be pottage, a meal that all farming families ate every now and then, even the more prosperous ones. Pottage was made from the choice leftovers of the last several meals, which were put into a massive iron pot, seasoned well and kept simmering over the fire, resulting in a hodgepodge stew that was always ready. In the case of the Rogers family, it was also always very tasty.

The discussion of tomorrow’s fishing outing continued while they served up bowls of the savory stew and great slabs of leftover cornbread. With everyone talking, Benjamin didn’t notice the dogs barking until they became loud and persistent enough to catch his attention.

“Billy,” Benjamin said, “go and see what those dogs are on about, please. It is probably just another ‘coon that has wandered up to the house, but we should make sure it is not a fox up to some mischief.”

Billy reluctantly put down his spoon and headed toward the front door. No sooner than he left the table, Benjamin heard the sound of hoof beats thundering up the lane to the farmhouse.

“Sounds like we have company,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but unable to keep an edge of alarm from his voice. He flew to the front door with all the speed of the hummingbird, his boyhood namesake.

“Get out! What do you want!” they heard Billy’s cries coming from the front of the house, followed by Benjamin’s authoritative voice, “How dare you enter my home!” then lower, “Get behind me Billy!”

Startled, the others sprang from the table and rushed toward Benjamin, who held up a firm hand indicating for them to remain behind him. He was facing three uniformed men who had entered the farmhouse. Benjamin stood waiting for a response to his question, his small but sturdy body like a rampart between the men and his family. The three men wore gun belts, their pistols holstered, although two of the men kept their hand on the stock of their gun. Through the door they could see a half dozen other men, still mounted, who were armed with both rifles and pistols. The men outside were not wearing uniforms, and Benjamin thought he recognized a couple of them as townsfolk from New Echota. They were not the same men they had encountered with Jebediah Barnett, nor was Jebediah among them.

“Are you Benjamin Rogers?” asked one of the soldiers who had entered the house.

“I am, and you are trespassing on my property,” Benjamin said sternly.