Guide Me Home (14 page)

The college boy grinned and bobbed the satchel. “Then I'll use my retractable tape measure. It can stretch up to a hundred feet, and it's no bigger around than a caterpillar.”

Tolly whistled through his teeth. “They's makin' some mighty fine inventions these days.”

“I also have a compass, a sextant to measure angles, and my journal and pencils.”

Now he was just showing off. And he might be speaking a foreign language for all the sense he made. Tolly shook his head. “I reckon you know what you're doin'. But we've stood around yakkin' long enough. Mo'nin's gettin' away. Let's go.”

He slipped his fingers under the mule's chin strap and sent a glance over his shoulder. “If you two wants to ride, climb in. Ol' Bitsy here won't mind.”

Devlin held his hand to Reb. “May I assist you?”

She took hold so quick Tolly would've missed it if he'd blinked. Her cheeks bloomed as pink as the morning sky. He frowned, never looking away while Devlin handed his waywiser to Reb, laid his satchel next to the packs, and then climbed in. The little cart groaned, rocking on its pair of wooden wheels.

Tolly barked, “Sit across from Reb, not next to her.” Both Reb and Devlin sent him curious looks. “It'll balance the weight.”

Devlin nodded and sat on the opposite edge of the cart from Reb. The wooden box righted itself and stopped creaking.

Tolly took a firm grip on the chin strap. “Ready?”

“Ready,” they said at the same time and then grinned at each other like they didn't have an ounce of sense between the two of them.

Tolly harrumphed. “C'mon, Bitsy, let's go.” He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. The mule jerked forward, bouncing the cart. Reb let out a little gasp, Devlin chuckled, and Reb answered it with a sheepish giggle.

Tolly shook his head. “Sit still back there. This ain't no carnival ride.”

They both laughed.

He guided Bitsy up the road, sending looks over his shoulder every few seconds so they'd know they were being watched. Here he'd thought these were two were full grown, but it appeared he was spending his summer with a couple of silly youngsters. Well, he'd be on his toes. He'd keep the candles lit, make them think about the job at hand, and stay between them as much as he could. Wouldn't nobody end up hurt—in body or heart—while Tolly was in charge.

Devlin

F
or the second time since his arrival at the estate, Devlin followed Tolly from sunlit fresh breezes through a dirt tunnel into dark stillness. The first time, as part of a crowd of two dozen people, the jaunt had seemed a lighthearted adventure. Tame. Easy. But this time, with the waywiser rolling and the weight of his satchel pulling on his shoulder, with Tolly and Rebekah each burdened by large packs, with Tolly's solemn statement—
“Mappin' is almighty impo'tant, but bein' safe is the most impo'tant”
—ringing in his memory, the excursion had a completely different feel. One that he couldn't quite define but that left him battling uneasiness.

The opening was cavernous, wide enough for three wagons to travel side by side. Tolly's torch painted a misshapen circle on the floor. Devlin aimed his toes for the edge of the glowing circle. A ceiling stretched high above, and walls stood proud on both sides, but the torch didn't reach them, making Devlin feel as though they moved across a bridge suspended in the middle of nothingness. Dizziness gripped him.

He squinted into the shadows, determined to set aside the odd sensations tormenting his mind. On their right, pale yellow light skimmed the tops of hollowed logs lying end to end. Devlin frowned, trying to recall what Tolly had told the tour group about those logs. Something about saltpeter, if he remembered correctly.

“Tolly?” His voice echoed through the space, intrusive. He winced.

“Whatcha needin', Devlin?” Tolly didn't slow his stride. How could he move so confidently when every part of Devlin battled apprehension?

“What purpose do these logs serve?”

Tolly stopped and swung his torch toward the logs, bringing the closest one fully into view. “These here? Well, don't s'pose they serve any purpose these days othuh'n a reminduh, but they was used to bring watuh into the cave. The men minin' out the saltpetuh for bullets an' such, they needed watuh.”

So he'd remembered correctly. He inched closer to the logs, careful not to change the course of the waywiser enough to distort his measurement, and squinted along the layout of logs. “How many are there?”

“Don't rightly know I've counted. But they stretch the whole length o' the cave's entry tunnel—a good quarter mile or more.”

Devlin shook his head. “Amazing…”

“Sure is.” Pride colored the black man's voice. He started forward, and Devlin and Rebekah followed. “A passel o' slaves turned them trees into a watuhway by chiselin' an' careful scorchin'. An' all by hand! Yessuh, if it wasn't for them hard-workin' slaves an' the saltpetuh they brung outta this here cave, our whole country might still be livin' unduh England's rule.”

Devlin was certain he'd misunderstood. “This was built during the war with England?”

Tolly stopped again and turned to face Devlin. “Durin' the scuffle o' 1812, England shut down importin' goods, includin' powduh for makin' bullets. They figured, an' they figured rightly, they could squash us real quick if they took away our means o' fightin'. But that English king didn't figure on this nation's detuhmination. They found anothuh way to load their rifles an' stand up to the redcoats.”

While he spoke, Tolly's voice turned rich, husky, filled with wonder. Mesmerized, Devlin listened as much to his tone as to his words.

“The saltpetuh comin' from deep inside this cave let our fightin' men defend theyselves an' defeat England. Yessuh, you's lookin' at history, boy.”

Devlin sent his gaze up and down the pipeline. He couldn't see its length, but he could imagine it. His flesh tingled. This was the kind of information Father needed to share with the governor. A part of the nation's history didn't belong in the hands of a private owner—it belonged to the entire country. He reached for his satchel to remove his paper and pencil.

Tolly aimed the torch forward and set off. “Let's get movin'.”

Rebekah fell in behind him, and Devlin stayed close. “I wish I could measure the length of the waterway.”

Tolly's droll chuckle rumbled. “I wish you could, too, boy, 'cause it'd be interestin' to know. But wouldn't do much good. Not these days.”

“Why not?”

“Back when folks started comin' into the cave for a paid look-around, the ones who owned the grounds tore up parts o' the pipeline an' dragged the logs to the big cavern, the one named the Rotunda. Then they burned 'em in a bonfire so's guests could take a good look at the size o' the space.” The man shook his head, and even from his position behind him, Devlin sensed Tolly's remorse. “What was they thinkin', burnin' up a piece of history? Piece o' my history, seein' as how my kin was part o' them who built the pipes an' brought out the saltpetuh.”

The man's voice turned melancholy, emotional. Devlin understood. Slaves, caught in bondage, helped secure their owners' freedom from English reign. The incongruity created a sense of sadness in the center of his soul.

He trotted past Rebekah and moved alongside Tolly. “It's hard to fathom that these logs are still here, intact, after more than a hundred years.”

Tolly stopped and sent a wry grin at Devlin. “You's not thinkin' clear, college boy. Feel the air down here.”

Devlin sucked in a slow breath and sampled the air. “It's cool. And dry.”

Tolly nodded, his expression knowing. “Most anything'll stay preserved in the cave. Logs. Remains.”

“Remains?”

“Animal or human remains.”

Rebekah's face went white in the torchlight.

Tolly grimaced. “Sorry, Reb. I shouldn't 've said that in front o' you, considerin'.”

A look of understanding passed between the two, piquing Devlin's curiosity. Considering what? Before he could question them, Tolly spoke again, much more matter-of-factly.

“Explorers 've come across all kinds o' things, includin' mummified carcasses from way back when.”

Devlin swallowed. “We won't encounter any such findings, will we?”

Tolly blasted a laugh that bounced for several seconds before fading. “Now, since I'm only takin' you to the already-explored parts, I reckon we don't hafta worry none 'bout that.” He glanced at Rebekah, who stood white faced and unsmiling. He grimaced. “ 'Nough talk about mummies an' such. You got a lot o' measurin' to do. Let's go.”

By midmorning, Devlin had followed Tolly all along the paid tour route and past an area called Pineapple Bush, named by Stephen Bishop, the first person to map the cave. At the foot of each passageway, they stopped and held the torch over Devlin's journal so he could record the numbers from the waywiser's meter as well as any information that Father might find of interest from Tolly's seemingly fathomless knowledge. The brightness of the torch against the blackness of the surroundings made spots dance in front of Devlin's eyes and distorted the pencil strokes against the paper. He hoped when he returned aboveground the markings would make sense.

They passed Pineapple Bush and meandered through a half-mile-long snake-like tunnel to a dead end. Tolly pulled off his pack and then sank down next to it. He pushed the end of the torch into the dirt and patted the spot beside him. “Sit. Rest. We'll have us a drink an' eat a little bit o' the victuals Coopuh packed fo' us.”

Rebekah remained upright. “I thought we had to get out of the way of the tours.”

Tolly held his hands wide, smiling. His white teeth nearly glowed against the dark backdrop. “This ain't a through path, so no tours come this way. So we can sit an' rest while they's moseyin' on the circle path an' goin' out again.”

“Is there a tour going now?”

Tolly nodded. “Sure is.”

She angled her head, appearing to listen. “I don't hear them.”

“Ain't gonna from where we are. We're all shut off. Sit yo'self down now, Reb.”

Devlin leaned the waywiser against the wall and reached for her pack. “Here. Let me help you.” He lifted the canvas pack from her back, and he nearly dropped it. He gaped at her. “This thing must weigh forty pounds! How did you manage to cart it so far?”

She rotated her shoulders, wincing. “How far?”

He considered his notes, adding the numbers he'd taken from the waywiser. “More than four miles.”

“That's not so far.”

Devlin shook his head. Perhaps four miles wasn't so far in distance, but the trek had been sometimes uphill, sometimes downhill, winding, twisting, ever challenging, with uncertainty—at least in his mind—lurking beyond each step. He wouldn't have thought less of her if she'd complained, but her staunch words despite her obvious weariness increased his admiration for her.

Every girl he knew from back home would be wilted and whining, but not Rebekah Hardin. These hills girls were tough, it seemed. He'd never been attracted to a girl who behaved even remotely tomboyish, but he liked Rebekah. He liked her a lot—more than he suspected Mother would approve. “Not so far, hmm? Well, it wasn't any short jaunt, either, so do as Tolly said and rest a bit. You've earned it.”

She lowered herself to the dirt floor and folded her legs to the side. Resting her hands in her lap, she tipped her head back and released a delicate, airy sigh. “It does feel good to sit.”

Tolly handed her a canteen and a cloth-wrapped lump. “Gonna rest here about half an hour. That'll give the tour group time to clear out befo' we go any fu'thuh.”

Devlin sat within the torch's reach and accepted a canteen and another of the packages from Tolly's pack. He peeled back the cloth napkin and found a wedge of moist-looking cake. He pinched off a piece and carried it to his mouth. Cinnamon and nutmeg exploded on his tongue, and he couldn't hold back a murmur of pleasure.

Tolly grinned at him. “Applesauce cake. I special requested it when I knew we'd be down unduh fo' meals an' all.” He patted the pack. “Mo' cake in here. An' sandwiches, an' boiled eggs, an' corn pone wit' honey, an' fried chicken, an'—”

Devlin held up his hand. “That's enough food to last a week. Are you sure you intend to lead me back to sunlight by evening?”

“The sun might be close to restin' by the time we come up.” Tolly bit off a chunk of cake and washed it down with a swig from his canteen. “But if you wanna get out some early, you jus' tell me. I'm watchin' my timepiece.”

Devlin hoped to have a few evening hours to transfer his notes to something more readable. “If we're out by dinnertime, that should suffice.”

“Well then…” The torch began to flicker. Tolly opened Rebekah's pack and removed a fresh one. He touched the head to the dying torch and flames flared upward. Devlin instinctively drew back, squinting, but he got a good look at the smooth, rust-colored rock walls for a few seconds before the light shrank to a soft circle again.

Tolly rolled the head of the old torch against the ground until it was completely extinguished. He stood and rubbed the soles of his worn boots over the charred marks until they disappeared. Then he swished his palms together, sat, and continued as if he hadn't been interrupted.

“We prob'ly oughtn't go in more'n another mile or two today. Make sure we have plenty o' time to weave our way out befo' it gets too late.” He took another bite and then spoke around it. “But fo' now, enjoy yo' treat. Enjoy yo' rest.”

They fell into silence, only the rustle of Tolly's bag as he dug for another piece of cake and the squeak of the canteen lids intruding. Devlin stared into the torch's flame, watching the ball of yellow and white dance at the end of the dowel. Slowly he became aware of a strange, almost hollow echo. A sound yet not a sound. Confusion filled him, and he blurted, “What is that?”

Tolly raised his eyebrows. “What's what?”

“That…sound.”

Rebekah looked right and then left, frowning. “I don't hear anything.”