Timecachers (62 page)

Tom and Sal also offered their condolences. Guwaya made no reply for several moments, and then abruptly said, “We should depart while there is still darkness. My family awaits our return.” Not waiting for a reply, he began a fast-paced walk in the direction of the cave.

The others followed in silence, leaving the unassembled travois behind.

Chapter fifty-one

A
fter Benjamin and Isaac rearranged the wagon, Catherine and Alice prepared a snug niche for Sally to lie behind the seat. There would be room for two on the seat, one to drive the wagon and another to tend Sally. The others would walk alongside.

The preparations for departure were hasty. It was just barely after sunrise when the soldiers began hustling the Indians through the gate, beginning their march to Ross’s Landing. The officers did their best to keep order amidst chaos, not tolerating any deviation from their schedule. While the majority of the soldiers conducted themselves professionally, there were incidents of callousness by some of the lower ranks and mercenaries. For now, the worst behavior was tempered by the belief that justice, as far as the white Georgians were concerned, was finally being carried out. The bulk of the abuse today was limited to shoving and needlessly harsh commands to prod the Cherokees along.

In fact, many of the Cherokee themselves were gratified to be leaving the stench of the crowded stockade behind. The number of captives held in the fort had grown to over five hundred people, with only the bare minimum of facilities for half that number. In those conditions they had become filthy, tattered, unhealthy, and ill-tempered. Even with the long, difficult march ahead, the thought of leaving Fort Wool was liberating.

The Rogers would be among those relieved to be leaving, if not for their unease about subjecting Sally to the journey before she had had a chance to fully recover. Still pale, her color had only just begun to return. She was still too weak to walk or stand on her own. Benjamin did his best to keep his anxiety concealed, smiling as he carried her to the wagon and passed her to Catherine. He reassured her that he would be near, walking next to the wagon if she needed him. His voiced cracked when he saw her respond with a feeble smile. Catherine would take the first turn riding with her, sitting next to Isaac who was driving the wagon.

Benjamin was just about to give Isaac the order to move out when he felt the sudden jolt of a soldier shove him from behind. “Git goin’,” he heard the soldier command. Benjamin scowled, but resisted the urge to retort. Instead, he nodded to Isaac, setting the Rogers family, along with Adam and Alice, into motion as they joined the long procession of people shuffling through the fort’s gate.

Constance had also arrived at the fort early, bringing with her fresh, clean blankets for Sally’s bedding, and some jars of broth that the sick youngster could tolerate better than solid food. She had grudgingly given up trying to persuade Adam and Alice to reconsider their decision. This morning she contented herself with farewells to them and the Cherokees she had come to know. She reminded them all that they would be in her prayers.

The early morning fresh air and surrounding mountain views was uplifting, in spite of the gloomy circumstances. Those who had retained their good health appreciated the openness after having been confined in the stifling fort for many weeks. Billy, who had been downcast the last several days, livened considerably and asked his father’s permission to join a group of his friends. Benjamin agreed, happy to see his son regaining some of his lost vigor. If only Sally would respond in kind, he thought.

The initial gratification of their release from confinement was regrettably short-lived. After only about five miles of the more than fifty mile march, weariness began to set in, especially among the elders, and the monotonous trek lent itself to silent contemplation of the loss of their homelands. Most trudged along in silence.

There had been no rain for several weeks and the climate had been hotter than usual. The trail was dusty and the passing of so many feet raised a cloud of dust, covering all but those in the very front with a layer of fine, red dirt. Many of the smaller creeks had gone dry, creeks that they had intended to use to replenish water supplies. There would be plenty of water when they reached the river at Ross’s Landing, but it would be a long, dry walk getting there.

In fact, Ross’s Landing was merely the beginning of their exodus. The site was part of the Cherokee Nation, a thriving river port that was once known as the “Old French Store.” It had been owned by John Ross, where he operated a trading post, warehouse, wharf, and ferry service. It would now serve as one of two main embarkation points for larger groups of Indians being evicted to the western Indian Territory. The second embarkation point was at the Cherokee Agency near Rattlesnake Springs, Tennessee.

Once they reached Ross’s Landing, the Cherokees would be loaded onto riverboats, where the next leg of their journey would take them southwest via the Tennessee River to the Mississippi, then finally to the Arkansas River and Fort Smith, located at the border of Indian Territory. Captain Martin would only accompany the detachment as far as Ross’s Landing, where he would return to Fort Wool to lead additional groups along the same route. He was to continue this duty until no Cherokee remained in Georgia.

Adam was troubled by his recollection about the timeline of the Trail of Tears. He had read that these first groups, who were led along what became known as the water route, suffered some of the most tragic consequences. Casualties were so high due to sickness caused by the extreme heat and lack of clean drinking water that the removal was postponed until cooler weather. The result of that decision caused weeks of detention at Ross’s Landing in even more crowded conditions. An alternative land route was selected, which meant much greater distances had to be traversed on foot, and the cooler weather quickly turned to freezing temperatures. He would feel no less distress for his friends if they were part of the latter group.

He walked along with Jimmy and Rebecca, more toward the front of the line than the Rogers family. Having been ejected from their home in the manner they were, leaving nearly all of their possessions behind, they had little to carry. He spoke with Jimmy about farming technology, and although Jimmy only half-heartedly participated in the conversation, it served to keep their minds from more dreadful thoughts.

Rebecca seemed to have essentially recovered from her ordeal, or at least she was hiding her discomfort well. Adam presumed this was mostly for Jimmy’s benefit, noticing that she still flinched any time one of the soldiers raised his voice or approached too closely.

By mid-day, the weariness of walking through the clouds of dust began to take its toll. The goal of fifteen miles per day was aggressive considering the conditions and the mountainous terrain, particularly for the elderly and small children. The procession halted frequently, though only for moments as the soldiers would not tolerate longer delays. Any group pausing for one reason or another would be passed by and badgered by the soldiers until they were underway once again.

Suddenly, an event occurred that caused both Cherokee and soldiers to come to an abrupt halt. A single, tremendous wave of thunder rumbled over them from behind, shaking the earth as it rolled from east to west, as if the land itself was making known its disapproval of the mistreatment of its ancient caretakers. The sky remained clear, the sun bright, with no sign of an approaching storm; just a final resounding grumble of outrage. All stood in silence, looking at the sky until it passed, then once again continued the trek that would lead the Cherokee away from their primordial homeland forever.

The procession moved slowly enough that Catherine, Alice, and Silvey could climb in and out of the wagon as it moved along, taking turns looking after Sally. The women regularly wiped the dirt from Sally’s face to relieve her from the irritation, and moistened a cloth for her to breathe through, trying to prevent the great clouds of dust from congesting her lungs. In spite of their efforts, Sally’s breathing became labored, causing her fits of coughing. Aware of her distress, Benjamin led the wagon to the side of the road, away from the worst of the billowing dirt clouds.

“Move along; no stopping!” one of the soldiers yelled at Benjamin.

“My daughter is ill and cannot breathe in all this dust,” Benjamin said.

“We can’t stop every time someone coughs,” he said tersely. The soldier looked into the wagon at Sally, who was coughing and hacking, trying to catch her breath. He flinched when he saw her pallid face. “Only for a moment,” he conceded. “We must keep going. The dust will be worse further to the rear.”

Another soldier approached him as he was walking away. “What’s the holdup here?”

“They are stopping to get the little girl out of the dust. I told them they could stop only for a moment. She looks pretty poorly.”

“So what? Ya feel sorry for ‘em? One less to deal with, I say. It ain’t like they’re human or anything.”

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.