Timecachers (68 page)

Alice nodded and tried to suppress her tears. When she was composed, Sal took her hand and led her back through the woods.

Chapter fifty-seven

T
hey were positioned in a deadly pincer at opposite sides of the unaware bounty hunters. Yonah promised Tom an unmistakable signal when the attack was to begin. He instructed him to watch for his arrow to be loosed into one of their targets, and then fire the rifle into the group as they moved away from the hostages in search of the archer. The gunfire would instill panic in the remaining men, causing them to run for cover. When they did, they would close the pincer and carry on the attack.

“Just do not shoot me,” Yonah warned Tom. “I am not yet fully healed from the last musket ball.”

When Sal arrived, he told Yonah he had discovered Alice being brutalized and recommended that she sit out the attack in the relative safety of cover. Yonah agreed, but Alice refused. Even though she was still shaking from the shock of her own ordeal, she insisted on taking part. Sal and Yonah conceded and assigned her to a position between them and Tom, where she would wait with her digging stick to catch any of the scoundrels that tried to escape in that direction.

“And Alice’s attacker?” Yonah asked Sal after Alice was beyond earshot.

“He won’t be a problem,” Sal stated flatly.

Yonah arched an eyebrow, got nothing in return from Sal other than a hard stare, and then nodded in understanding. He sensed the change in Sal; as if he had begun a transformation from reckless young buck to seasoned stag. The old Indian made no comforting comment, wise enough to know that words would do Sal no good. Taking a life for the first time was an arduous journey, a journey Sal had to make alone. Yonah was confident Sal had the mettle to endure it.

“Then let us end the captivity of our friends at once.” Yonah selected his target, the man who was standing next to Adam. He nocked an arrow and sent it flying toward its target with a soft twang of the bow string. The arrow pierced the center of his target’s chest with a thud. The man emitted a short gasp as the tip of the missile plunged through his heart before exiting his back.

For a moment, Adam thought the splash of blood against his face was rainfall, until he saw the projectile sticking out of the man’s back. He watched in shock as the man fell hard at his feet, and then dropped behind the man’s body, using it for cover from the unknown archer.

The bounty hunters rapidly went on the offensive, brandishing their weapons as they searched for the source of the attack. “It came from that-a-way,” one of them shouted, leading a charge toward Yonah and Sal.

Yonah fired another arrow into the group, hitting a second man, though his weaving charge spared him from instant death. He aimed his pistol and shot at Yonah, and then dropped the weapon and fell to his knees as he clutched at the arrow shaft protruding from his mid-section.

The pistol shot struck Yonah in the chest, the force of the blast causing him to fall backward at Sal’s feet. Armed only with the hunting knife, Sal raced to position himself between Yonah and the oncoming men, crouching to a defensive position in front of his wounded comrade.

On cue, Tom fired his rifle. He aimed low, remembering Yonah’s warning. The shot struck one of the charging men in the backside, blasting off a sizeable chunk of flesh, but apparently not striking bone. The wounded man leaped into the air, clutching at his bloodied behind, and darted into the woods shrieking and whooping as he bounded away.

The remaining two men acted as Yonah had predicted. The sound of Tom’s rifle halted their charge toward Sal. Fearing they were now outnumbered and outgunned, they bolted for the woods, following in the footsteps of the man Tom shot. As they flew past Alice, she rushed after them, brandishing the digging stick. She delivered a sound whack to the trailing man who yelped and accelerated his pace, making no attempt to retaliate; escape was his only goal.

Alice ceased her pursuit, watching to make sure they kept running. Once the men were out of sight, she returned to help Tom cut the bonds to free their friends. The freed hostages vociferously thanked and praised them for their successful rescue, laughing at the speed with which the men had fled. Their celebration was cut short by Sal’s cry for help.

Rushing to the sound of his voice, they found Sal hunkered over Yonah, using both hands attempting to stem the flow of blood from the bullet wound in his chest.

“Oh, my god! Someone help him,” Alice pleaded.

Woyi knelt on the ground beside him, examining the wound as best she could through the blood flowing around Sal’s fingers, gasping as she heard the sucking sound when Yonah inhaled. The bullet had punctured his lungs; the wound was undeniably fatal.

Yonah looked up at John Carter and said, “The man who shot me…” He was worried that the injured man might launch an attack from behind.

“He is dead,” replied Carter.

Yonah nodded. “Even so, it seems he will have his revenge.” Bloody foam seeped from his lips as he spoke. He fumbled with his hands, reaching for his carry sack. Sal opened the sack and placed it where the old man could reach inside. He pulled out a small bundle, and indicated for Guwaya to come closer. It was the bag containing the gold nuggets he had carried from his home. He placed the bag in Guwaya’s hand and said, “Please take this for your family. It is not a fortune, but it should be enough to provide your family with shelter and sustenance once you are settled.”

Guwaya closed his hand on the bag and choked a simple reply. “Wado, Gvnigeyona.”

Yonah turned to Sal, who still crouched next to him. Sal’s eyes were red-rimmed from the strain of holding back his tears; Yonah would not approve of such a show of weakness. “I am afraid the squirrel must go on without the bear, my friend.” He reached into his carry sack once again and pulled out the tin box of flint and char-cloth. He passed the box to Sal and spoke slowly and haltingly. “You should keep this. It may help you to remember to keep the fire of your spirit burning strong, but to dampen the heat of your temper, Salvador Lolliman.”

It was the first time Sal had heard the man speak his full name. He was surprised that he even remembered it. At this moment it seemed especially significant, and Sal’s emotions overwhelmed him. Tears streamed down his face as he took the tin from Yonah’s hand. “Thank you, Gvnigeyona. Wado; I will try to remember.”

“And I will remember our time together as I await the arrival of Squirrel-man in the Land of the Dead. Many years away, I pray, but inevitable nonetheless. Then we will journey together once again, and I will be proud to call you my friend.”

The old man gave a final shudder, and the light faded from his eyes. Sal reached forward and pulled Yonah’s eyelids closed. He hung his head in silence, feeling Yonah’s warmth leave the world, as if someone had poured water on a campfire, dousing the flames and leaving behind nothing except the darkness and chill of the night.

They buried Yonah on top of the mountain. It was no small effort to carry him up the steep grade and to excavate the grave from the rocky mountain soil, but they all agreed it was the most suitable choice for his final resting place. He had lived on a mountaintop, and the view of the river below was reminiscent of the view from his home. They laid his body in the grave and piled the stones that they had unearthed, marking the site with a cairn.

John Carter spoke a few words over the grave. “Yonah’s life can serve as an example to us all. He did not fear death. He knew that fear of death was to fear life, inhibiting a man from reaching his full potential. He did not hesitate when called upon to make the supreme sacrifice for his friends; for though he loved life, he loved his friends even more. We will honor your sacrifice by living on, striving to live as you did, committing our total being to each endeavor.”

After a reverent pause, John Carter continued. “Gvnigeyona has not left us. He will watch over us from above through the stars that shine in the night sky, as they are windows between our worlds, and whisper his guidance to us in our dreams until we once again join with him in the Land of Ghosts. Until we meet again, my dauntless friend.”

Alice gently placed the flowers they had gathered on top of the cairn, and they stood in a silent circle around the grave, listening to the sound of the wind as it whistled through the sparse trees on the mountaintop. Finally the silence was broken when Guwaya said, “We must go and bury the other two men. It would not be proper to leave their bodies unattended, no matter how despicable they were in life.”

“Yes, but one of us must remain here with Yonah,” said John Carter.

“I will stay,” said Sal. “I’ve come this far with him; I should finish the journey.”

“I agree,” said John Carter. “The rest of us will attend to the bodies, and then return here to camp for the night. Yonah’s ghost will be on his way by morning, and we can once again be on ours.”

Sal watched the others make their way down the mountain until they were out of sight, and then sat on a rock next to the grave, remembering the time he spent with Yonah. Even though they had been together only a few weeks, he felt like he had known Yonah much longer. He thought about Henri Acres and Yonah’s sister Meggie, wondering how long it would be before someone could get word to them of Yonah’s death. He remembered how sad and worried she had been when they left. He didn’t really believe in ghosts, but he hoped that the belief could provide some comfort to Meggie.

His thoughts were interrupted by a shuffling sound coming from the brush behind him. Turning toward the sound, he found himself looking into the eyes of a huge black bear. He froze at the sight, his mind racing. He knew better than to try and run, too frightened to do anything other than remain motionless and pray that the bear would not attack. The bear approached even closer and made a deep grunting sound, like the cough of an asthmatic old man. It pawed at the ground, the huge claws gouging the dirt and raising a cloud of dust. Sal heard a chattering noise and shifted his eyes enough to see a tiny squirrel, foraging at the edge of the woods. After a final look at Sal, the bear turned, and slowly walked toward the squirrel, both disappearing down the mountain side toward the river. With a great sigh of relief, Sal looked at the deep grooves made by the bear’s claws. He shook his head, and thought that perhaps he was going to have to reconsider his belief in ghosts.

Chapter fifty-eight

T
hey reached the Toccoa River by mid-day. Reconsidering their tactics, they decided to travel in a single group; the forest was simply too dense and the mountains too rugged for a forward scout to give them any practical advantage. Relying upon their ears rather than their eyes, they walked as silently as possible and stopped frequently to listen for the sound of movement in the woods around them. Sound carried far in the mountains, and they were more likely to hear any roving militiamen and bounty hunters before they saw them.

Silence came easily, especially to the four time-travelers. The events of the previous day inundated their thoughts; the brutality of the bounty hunters and the violence of their counterattack played in an infinite loop in their minds. Foremost in the minds of the entire group was the loss of Yonah. He was the stout backbone of their group. His presence had bolstered their confidence in times of uncertainty and reinforced their resolve with his steadfast determination. Yonah’s absence today was very noticeable. Today, even little Sagi walked with less self-assurance.

The Toccoa was wide and slow moving, although fording it would still be a dangerous undertaking. In the river they were more exposed than in the woods and the sounds of its flowing waters prevented their hearing anyone else approaching. John Carter had led them to a place where the river made a sharp bend to the north, where its path narrowed and the current slowed even further. The water depth was only calf deep, so they were able to slosh through uneventfully and quickly return to the cover of the trees.

Once across, they veered away from the main river and followed a much smaller branch that flowed from the northeast, keeping it within site but far enough away not to interfere with their listening. Guwaya told them that some called the tributary Wolf Creek, and it would lead them into North Carolina. They were no longer following a trail, and the terrain was no less rugged. There was no choice other than to follow the path of the creek, which wound its way through the valleys and ravines between the mountains. The route spared them from steep climbs, although the vegetation was thick and lush, most of it bristling with thorns. The moist soil near the creek was ideal for multiflora rose, blackberries, thistle, barberry, and a variety of spiny brambles. By the time they began to run out of daylight and called a halt to their trek, no one had been spared ripped clothing and painful abrasions from the prickling underbrush.

“Now I know how a porcupine feels,” said Adam, plucking a few thorns from his ankle.

“Tomorrow the going will be less painful. Ahead is an old hunter’s trail going northward, so it will no longer be necessary to follow the creek,” said Guwaya.

“That’s a relief,” said Adam. “I don’t think I could handle much more of those brambles.”

“And I have more good news,” said John Carter. “We entered North Carolina a few miles back.”

“We made it? That’s great news!” said Adam.

“We are in North Carolina, but by no means safe,” John Carter answered. “The trail Guwaya mentioned is very remote, and not too well known. However, we must cross the Unicoi Turnpike to reach our destination.”