Timecachers (54 page)

“
Qu’est-ce que c’est? Qui vive
?” Henri whispered, then “John Carter!” he boomed. “
Osiyo, mon ami
. I did not hear you coming,” he said more timidly. Sal stood holding the jug of applejack, for the moment too startled to speak.

“
Osiyo
, Henri,” John replied. “I am not surprised you did not hear me. Such caterwauling! I whistled to announce my presence, but it was drowned out by the braying. I even watered and placed my horse in your corral and still you did not hear me.”

“
Je suis désolé
. I was giving the little Squirrel-man here a tour, and we were distracted by song.”

“I believe you two were more distracted by the jug Sal is holding. Is that the same jug you have been hiding out here for so many years?
Osiyo
, Sal Lolliman. What has happened to your face? Do not tell me Yonah has done this to you.”

“Yonah? No way, dude,” Sal replied, recovering from the shock of John’s sudden appearance. He hiccupped and handed the jug to Henri, who gently placed it back into the cabinet. “Good seeing you again, Squanto. It’s a long story, but among other things I was attacked this morning by some thieves who snuck up on me. I probably wouldn’t even be here if not for Yonah saving my butt.”

“Snuck up on you, you say. I would think that would make you want to be more vigilant rather than dulling your senses with applejack. Suppose I was another attacker? Both of you would have been caught unawares.”

Embarrassed by John’s admonishment, Sal and Henri offered their poor excuse that they were partaking of the applejack only as a pain reliever for Sal. John Carter snorted and made no further comment, but his expression made it clear that he did not find their explanation satisfactory. He was more concerned about their lack of vigilance than their partaking of drink.

“You are right,
mon ami
,” Henri conceded. “It has been a difficult day and we have yet to tell you all that has occurred. We have no good excuse for not being more watchful. Yonah and Meggie are at the cabin saying their farewells, and the situation calls for us to be on guard. We have been
négligents
.”

“Farewells?” John said. “What has taken place?”

Henri and Sal brought John up to date, beginning with the shooting on the river, and ending with the attack at Yonah’s cabin this morning. John followed the story intently, stone-faced as usual, until they got to the part about Yonah killing the white man. At this, John’s cool expression turned apprehensive.

“I have been dreading that something of this nature would happen. A killing even in self-defense will only add fuel to an already inflammatory state of affairs.”

“Yonah is planning to take a circuitous route to the western territory,” said Henri, “hoping to avoid retribution here. He believes he may be treated more fairly if he can delay his capture.”

John Carter rubbed his chin as he considered Yonah’s quandary. “I was on my way to Yonah’s place to bring him news of Guwaya. There may be an alternative for him to consider. I will go and speak to him now. You two should first take a walk to clear your heads of applejack, and then we will all have a sober discussion to make our plans. I will not mention the drinking to Yonah and Meggie.”

Henri nodded gratefully. John’s sudden appearance had already startled most of the intoxicating effects of the applejack from them. Nevertheless, he and Sal took the long river path while John headed directly to the cabin. By the time they completed their walk, Henri and Sal were quite clear-headed. At Henri’s cabin, they found John listening to Yonah retell his story. Apparently true to his word, John had not mentioned the applejack.

While they spoke, Meggie prepared an herb and willow potion for Sal. The pain relief from the applejack was short-lived, and now he had a headache in addition to his other aches. He hoped Meggie’s willow potion would prove to be more long-lasting than the applejack.

John proceeded to tell them of Guwaya’s decision to move his family to the caves. He expressed his concern about the plan, but admitted that the place was well hidden and well stocked, and that Guwaya had worked hard to prepare the cave for his family. He stopped short of suggesting that Yonah change his plans, merely planting the seed of the idea and letting it germinate. It didn’t take long to show signs of life.

Yonah scratched the back of his neck as he contemplated John Carter’s news. “Perhaps they would not mind if I joined them,” he said. “Guwaya has always been a good friend, and I may be of some use to him. It will be a long journey, and I am likely to be captured along the way, although no more likely than if I followed my original plan.”

“It will not be such a long journey on horseback,
mon ami
,” said Henri. “I will provide you with a horse. And one for the little Squirrel-man if he is also to accompany you.”

“You bet, Goliath. I’ve come this far with the old bear,” said Sal. “Can’t hardly desert him now.”

“
Wado
, brother-in-law. And to you, Squirrel-man; your company will be most welcome,” said Yonah.

“I am returning there as well,” said John, “So the three of us will ride together. I suggest we leave at first light. I might have suggested leaving immediately, but I am certain Meggie will not allow you to depart without being well-fed.” No one would object to a delay if it involved partaking in one of Meggie’s delicious meals.

“You are right, John Carter,” said Meggie. “I will not miss what may be my last chance to cook for my brother. You and he will need a good meal to travel on, and the little squirrel could also stand to be fattened up a bit.”

Chapter forty-four

E
r, howdy, boys,” Tom said in his best southern drawl. He’d gotten plenty of chance to practice it when he first moved north. On more than one occasion he had been treated to a bad impersonation of Gomer Pyle by some bonehead wise-ass whose entire knowledge of the south came from watching re-runs of
The Andy Griffith Show.
It used to annoy him, but he learned that if he put on his own good ol’ boy act it baffled them; not knowing whether he was putting them on or not.

This time it was no joke. His life just might depend on how convincing he could sound to these two men; and whether they were gullible enough to swallow the king-sized helping of baloney he was about to feed them.

“Howdy, hell!” said the taller of the two young men, who was blocking Tom’s exit through Guwaya’s cabin door. Tom surmised that this man was the leader of the two. He had a slightly more intelligent look about him, though neither appeared to be Mensa candidates. The shorter man just stared at him, slack-jawed and dim-witted, but there was a wild meanness in his look that conveyed danger.

“I’ll ask you agin,” he said, moving closer to Tom, “who the hell are you and what the hell are you doin’ in here?”

“Give me a chance, boys!” Tom gave them a toothy gee-whiz grin. “That’s a helluva lot of hell fer me to git through all at once.” He stalled to steady his nerves and focus his racing mind. He already had his back-story prepared, but had been hoping he wasn’t going to need it.

“Well, you best be gettin’ through it right quick like, afore I put somethin’ else through ya’,” he said, placing his hand on a pistol stuck in his belt.

“Easy now, fellas.” Tom leaned back and held up the open palm of his free hand. “No need to be gettin’ yourself all riled up.” He had weapons of his own; unfortunately both were muzzleloaders and not prepared to fire. He figured that was probably the case with the other man’s pistol, but he couldn’t be sure. He knew Samuel Colt was working on his patent for the revolver about this time, although he was pretty sure pre-made ammunition hadn’t become commonplace much before the time of the Civil War. Still, he wasn’t going to gamble his life upon it.

“Name’s Tom,” he said with a toothy grin. He offered his hand to them in a gesture of friendship. Neither of them took him up on the handshake. He withdrew his hand, looked at his palm with a shrug, and then wiped it on his shirt as if their refusal to shake was due to some nonexistent grunge.

“I was just out doin’ me some huntin’ an’ came across this here cabin. Thought I’d be neighborly and stop fer a visit. This here your place, boys? Sure is right homey.”

“Knock off the hogwash, cornball,” the taller man said. “You expect us to believe you came in here to be neighborly? We know what yer up to.”

Tom’s heart sank. Maybe these guys weren’t as stupid as they looked. He kept the disappointment out of his eyes and stuck with his act.

“Honest, fellas,” he said. “I sure as heck wasn’t up to nothin’. Jus’ hopin’ to make yer acquaintance. Maybe get a cup o’ coffee, that’s all.”

“Cup o’ coffee my hairy ass. Ya’ ain’t out here this far from nowhere lookin’ fer new friends. Ya’ know’d this here’s an injun cabin, and you be a-scavengin’ it. We be with the militia roundin’ up them critters an’ takin’ ‘em to the fort, so we git first dibs on everythin’ in here.”

So that was it, thought Tom. No honor among thieves. It was going to be tough to convince them he was just a hunter who stumbled upon a cabin. The Cherokee removal had been anticipated by the white settlers for years, and the land already auctioned off. Anyone local who had their eyes on Cherokee property would have been waiting for their opportunity to rummage the abandoned properties before they could be claimed. He had no choice now, though, except to stick to his story.

“You fellas got me all wrong,” Tom said. “I ain’t stealin’ nothin’. I come out huntin’ ‘round here all the time.”

“All the time, huh? Then how come you ain’t seen this farm before?”

Oops, Tom thought. Lying didn’t come easily to him, and he struggled to recover. “Well, I ain’t been to this here exact spot afore, but I’ve done quite a bit a huntin’ in this general area,” he stammered.

“Yeah?” said the tall man. “So if you been a-huntin’, where be your game? I think what ya been a-huntin’ is right here in this cabin.”

Another hole in his story, Tom thought. As plentiful as the game was in the surrounding woods, he was going to have a hard time convincing them he hadn’t killed anything.

“I left my kill over yonder,” he said, pointing with his chin toward the woods. “But I just ain’t been too lucky, I guess.” His story was beginning to sound bogus even to himself.

“That be the first thing you said that was right—yer luck jus’ ran out. Ain’t no way ye left fresh meat out there in the woods fer some critter to run off with. Now, I’m gonna tell ye what’s gonna happen. First, I’m a-gonna take a look at what all yer carryin’, an’ then me an’ Shorty here are gonna give ya a whoppin’ to remember us by.”

Tom tensed for an attack. He could take care of himself pretty well against a single attacker, but he wasn’t foolish enough to believe he had much of a chance against two men at once. He made a final attempt to talk his way out of the situation.

“No need fer any of that, boys. I can see I jus’ got myself into yer business, so I’ll jus’ be goin’ along …”

“You ain’t a-goin’ nowhere, cornpone. We’re jus’ about t’ have us some fun.”

He reached out to grab Tom by the arm, but stopped abruptly when a voice suddenly called from outside the cabin. The voice sounded strangely familiar to Tom.

“Tom! Hey, boy! Whatcha doin’ in there? I ain’t a-standin’ out here all day waitin’ fer ya’,” cried the voice.

Tom had no idea who could be calling to him. He was happy for the diversion, though for the moment too confused to take advantage of it. His confusion turned to outright shock when he glimpsed the face that peered around the door.

“Let’s git goin’,” said Sal as he stepped into the cabin. “It’s too dark for any more huntin’ anyhow.” He feigned shock at seeing the two men. “Oh, ‘scuse me, fellers.”

Sal gave Tom a clandestine wink. “Whadda ye know, Tom. I guess ye was right, there was somebody home after all. Just like you t’ be in here a-jawin’ and leave me out in the woods holdin’ these here squirrels.”

Sal nodded to the two men. “Pleased t’make yer acquaintance, boys.” No one offered to shake hands. “Sorry to interrupt yer little tea party, fellas, but me an’ ol’ Tom here need to git. We got a long walk back to th’ camp, an’ it’s gettin’ dark,” Sal continued. “Ol’ Tom here’s always forgittin’ the time when he’s makin’ new friends. He’s jus’ a friendly sort, I guess.”

“Ya mean you two was really up here huntin’?” asked the tall one.

Sal gave the man a wry look and held up two freshly killed squirrels by the tail. “What’d ye think we was doin’, ye nitwit? Pannin’ fer gold?” he said sarcastically.

The locals were taken back, not sure now what exactly to believe about Tom and Sal. The tall man was still skeptical, but much less inclined to violence now that the odds were no longer in his favor. He managed to compose himself enough to put some of the authority back in his voice, and said, “You two hicks go on an git outta here. We be part of an official military operation at this here cabin, an’ you two fools are just in the way.”

“Don’t git yer panties in a wad, Jethro,” said Sal. “That be fine with us. Like I said, we need t’ be a-goin’ anyway. Come on, Tom, let’s leave these fellas to their oh-fficial military operation,” he said with a smirk. “They ain’t got no compunction t’be shootin’ the breeze with ye anyhow.”