Timecachers (69 page)

“The Unicorn Turnpike? What’s that, some kind of fantasyland freeway?” asked Sal.

“The Unicoi Turnpike. And it is no longer free,” corrected John Carter, misinterpreting Sal. “Long ago it was a trading trail, called the Wachesa Trail, used by many Indian traders to traverse the Unicoi Mountains. It passed through the ancient Cherokee town of Great Tellico, once the largest of our cities that exists no more. It is now used as a main thoroughfare for settlers and many toll collectors are in place along the road. They now call it the Unicoi Turnpike, and it is in use by the military for a Cherokee removal path from Fort Butler here in North Carolina to Fort Cass in Tennessee. We will have to use great caution when we reach it, for it is likely to be in heavy use.”

Guwaya cleared his throat and spoke. “Our destination is to the north of that road, in the depths of the Unicoi Mountains. The remoteness of the mountains will offer many places to seclude ourselves, and it is there that we are likely to encounter other Tsalagi families attempting to avoid removal. The land has many caves and deep gorges, some so deep the sun does not reach the bottom until mid-day. It is my hope we can remain there undiscovered, in a place I have selected, until North Carolina grants us permission to remain on some portion of our lands.”

They prepared a simple evening meal, their appetites depressed by thoughts of their fallen comrade, in spite of the strenuous day slogging through the brambles. Alice and Woyi prepared an herbal salve to ease the discomfort from the skin abrasions, which Alice also used on the lacerations Goldtooth had given her.

Sal made no mention of Yonah, although he was clearly distraught. His expression had been stonily grim as he fought his way through the briars, and he remained somber throughout the evening. He felt not only the sadness of the loss, but anger that Yonah had been unjustly deprived of a single, selfless desire, to be left alone and allowed to live in peace on his own land. He struggled unsuccessfully to fulfill Yonah’s last words of advice to him, to keep his temper in check. While he couldn’t prevent the anger, he would at least keep it to himself.

As distressing as his grief for Yonah was, dealing with his memories of his battle with Goldtooth was worse. When those thoughts came, they felt more like memories of a dream than something he had actually done. Thanks to his volatile temper he’d been in plenty of tiffs. He gave out a fair number of thrashings and received even more, but taking a man’s life was never something he considered himself capable of doing. Yes, it was self-defense and yes, the man probably deserved it. Still, as vile as he was, he most certainly had a family, a family who had done Sal no harm, and his death would cause them pain. Sal tried to relax and feel the soothing relief of the salve as he worked it into the abrasions. He applied some to the red welt around his neck left behind by Goldtooth’s strangling clutch, and the strong medicinal smell of the salve caused the memories to come rushing back—the metallic odor of blood gushing over his hand as he plunged the knife into the man’s chest. He wondered how long that memory would haunt him.

The next day, walking on the tiny hunting trail proved to be much easier going. They no longer had nearly as many of the prickly vines to contend with, and they traveled much faster even though the trail was considerably steeper. It took them only a few hours to reach the road—the Unicoi Turnpike.

The group paused under cover several yards from the road. John Carter explained that at times it was heavily used, and there were many inns, taverns, mills, and other businesses along its path. There were also several toll bridges where the road crossed and re-crossed the river. The particular stretch he and Guwaya had led them to, he said, was unpopulated. It was wider and better maintained than the Federal Road; the roadbed was still dirt, but constructed of a compressed, sandy material, and appeared to be regularly graded. There were wagon wheel tracks and hoof prints, indicating heavy use, but the road was only mildly rutted, and thankfully unoccupied at the moment.

Hearing no human voices or hoof beats, not a sound to disturb the silent remoteness around them, they proceeded to cross the road. Sal kicked a rock and scoffed as they walked across the deserted road. “Some turnpike. Looks like the road to nowhere.”

John Carter stopped in the middle and waved his arm. “It may not look it, but the road is heavily used at times. To the east is Fort Butler,” he said, pointing to his right. “It was built two years ago in preparation for our removal. The site on which it is built we call
Tlanusi-yi
, the Leech place, because of the giant red and white striped leech that lives there. We have been hoping the
Tlanusi
would rise up and suck the fort into the depths of the river, but he hasn’t done so yet.

“This road continues westward through the gap to Fort Cass,” he continued, now pointing to his left. “It is the road the Cherokee will follow as they are marched from their lands. We are fortunate that the road is not occupied today, as the military would be on guard for Cherokees who try to escape.

“To the north the land becomes even more remote, as Guwaya has already described. Once we are well clear of this road, our chance of remaining undetected is greatly improved.”

“That’s all very interesting,” said Adam, “and great to hear that we have almost reached our goal, but don’t you think it would be a good idea to get out of the middle of the road before the military comes along?”

“We would hear anyone coming long before they reach us,” said John Carter. “But yes, we should be on our way and get back into the cover of the forest. We still have many miles to travel before we reach the place Guwaya has selected to camp.” He nodded to Guwaya who led the way back into the trees.

It was nearly dark when Guwaya announced they had reached the camp. The darkness came more from the shadows of the surrounding mountains than from the lateness of the hour. Adam now understood just how accurate the Cherokee description of the place, the Land of the Noon Day Sun, was. They had passed through one tiny gulley after the next; ascending the peaks into the sunlight, then back down into the gloomy valleys. Each ravine was so completely surrounded by mountains that the sun only reached the depths when it was at its highest. The flora alternated between light-loving plants on the peaks to shadow dwellers in the depths of the dreary glens. As rugged and inaccessible as it was, it was an outdoorsman’s paradise; as beautiful as it was unique.

Besides being miles away from the Unicoi Turnpike, Adam could see nothing particularly distinguishing about the place that would make it appeal to Guwaya as a haven for their camp. The glen they were in appeared to be identical to the dozens of others they had passed through. Whatever Guwaya’s reasons were for picking it, everyone was relieved they were finally here. The days of hiking up and down the steep mountainsides had been exhausting, and they were grateful for a place to build a fire, prepare the evening meal, and settle in for the night.

After they had eaten, Guwaya rose from his place by the fire and walked to an outcrop of rock. He placed his hand on one of the protruding boulders and said, “This is the reason I selected this place.” The others looked at him questioningly. The rock looked no different than the thousands of others they had walked over, under, and around for the past few weeks. Guwaya winked at John Carter, who was apparently the only other one aware of the secret of his mysterious rock.

“Let me guess,” said Sal. “It’s some magical Cherokee rock that’s going to open up to another world where we can hide.” Guwaya just smiled at his sarcasm and continued to pat the rock.

John Carter laughed and said, “You are not far from the truth, Squirrel-man. Guwaya told me of this place he had found many years ago. I have since used it more than once during my travels, when I needed a place where my presence would not be detected. Best show them, Guwaya, before they think we have both taken leave of our senses.”

Guwaya jerked his head, indicating for the others to follow him around the side of his rock. Examining the outcrop from the side, they could see a horizontal fissure running down its length. Barely two feet wide, the dark crack blended in so well that if not for the cool air flowing from it, the opening would appear to be no more than a shadow. Guwaya reached deeply into the crack and retrieved a firebrand, which he set alight in the campfire. He then squeezed himself into the crack.

His voice echoed from the flickering crevice. “Come in, everyone.” One by one the group pressed through the opening. Once inside, they stood gawking at the immensity of the chamber. “This cavern goes on for a long way,” Guwaya said. “Further than I cared to venture.”

“You seem to have a knack for finding caverns,” said Tom.

Guwaya shrugged. “One tends to look for places to weather a storm when on long hunting trips away from home.”

They explored the cavern for a short distance and located several branches leading to chambers even larger than the one they entered. The cave they were in was part of an immense system of subterranean caverns.

“I strongly urge you to forego the exploration of the depths of the cavern for now,” said John Carter. “It is extremely easy to become lost, especially if our torch goes out. The darkness in the deeper chambers is ominous. There will be plenty of time to explore if we are to remain here.

“I know of one other entrance to the cavern, equally secluded, which would serve as an escape route if needed. Given its size, there are undoubtedly other openings. The cavern will serve well as a hideout. It is unfortunate that so many of the supplies Guwaya stocked had to be left behind, but we have brought enough for a while and the surrounding mountains have plenty of game.”

They spent the night in the clearing outside the cave. In the morning, they made additional torches and gathered material for bedding, spending the better part of the day making the cavern comfortable. John Carter showed them the path through the cavern to the second opening, which led through nearly half a mile of the twisting cave, the path branching several times along the way. The route was inconspicuously marked with grooves cut into the rock at each intersection, making it possible for one who knew the way to follow the path in darkness, but nearly impossible for one who did not. The second entrance was an oval hole, just large enough for an adult to squeeze through, leading into a sinkhole, a sunken depression about fifteen feet deep. After an easy climb to the surface they would then be on the opposite side of the mountain from the other entrance.

Returning to camp, they considered their situation. The cavern was an excellent choice for the family to hide while the Cherokee roundup was ongoing. It was secluded and well hidden, and the second exit would prevent them from being trapped in the unlikely case they were discovered. The disadvantage to being so well isolated was lack of contact with the rest of the world. They had heard the rumors that North Carolina would allow them to stay, but they had no confirmation of it. They would have to establish some means of communication to know when it was safe to come out of hiding. It would be to their advantage to locate any other families who were hiding in the area to share information.

John Carter told the group he would go on a scouting mission to seek out other families that might be hiding in the area. He said he would travel in the direction of Fort Butler, where he was most likely to find reliable sources of information. Adam and his team offered to go with him.

“You may find it useful to have us along to make contact with the non-Cherokee folks you find,” said Adam. “We could find out if they are friendly or hostile before you expose yourself to them. We could pretend to be new settlers in the area. It’ll also give Guwaya and Woyi a chance to get situated in their temporary home.”

Agreeing to Adam’s suggestion, John Carter said they would leave at first light.

Chapter fifty-nine

J
ohn Carter and the team followed the ridgeline on the south side of the Unicoi Mountains. It was encouraging that they had not seen any signs of bounty hunters or militia. At least for the moment, it appeared the military was not deploying bands of hunters to search the mountains for ensconced Indians, perhaps an indication that they were becoming less zealous at those efforts, expecting that the families remaining would be allowed to stay.

By noontime they had made contact with two groups of Cherokee, a single family of five and a multi-family group of twenty, both of whom had established hideouts in the mountain range’s many caverns. They learned from them that there were at least a dozen other groups of Tsalagi refugees who had fled to the mountains. All of the families had heard the story of Tsali’s bargain with the military, and they confirmed the rumor that North Carolina would consider allowing them to stay, but no one was sure when it would happen. They planned to stay in hiding until receiving assurance that they would not be subject to removal.

The local Cherokees were aware of several white families who were sympathetic with their cause, and they agreed with John Carter that they would need to remain in contact with them. They told John Carter that there was a white-owned farm to the west and that the family living there had a connection to the military—one of the farmer’s sons was an Army officer at Fort Butler. The family was well-known to the local Cherokees and had been good friends with some of them. The family had expressed strong disagreement with the removal policy in the past, but no one had been in touch with them since the removal began. If the family was willing, they could be a good source of information for the isolated Indians.