Spake As a Dragon (32 page)

“
Mama, did the ‘pox kill
little Paul too?”

“
No darling, he just got
sick and did not recover, he was just a few months old. I always
thought he caught pneumonia.”

For the first few weeks, the small
wagon train moved east from Albertville, which is located on a
plateau known as Sand Mountain, into the valley to the small
military outpost at Fort Payne, Alabama. This route skirted the
mighty Tennessee River, which was much too wide and swift for them
to attempt a crossing, and the only close ferry would take them in
the wrong direction. The small fort lay in a narrow valley on Big
Wills Creek immediately west of Lookout Mountain with Sand Mountain
somewhat more removed to the southwest. Fort Payne was a good safe
place to rest for a few days.

Once their animals had rested, the
family got their two-wagon wagon train back on the trail to South
Carolina. Their next obstacle was the wilderness surrounding the
area of the Tallulah River of northern Georgia. The area was dense
and the view to their front was severely limited by the growth of
hardwood trees and a considerable amount of undergrowth.

They had been out of the fort for
about a week; it was late afternoon Malinda is looking for a
suitable spot to make camp for the night. She stops the two wagons
in an open grassy area next to a cool, running creek, which
apparently flows from a spring somewhere up the
mountainside.

“
Stephen you and Thomas
Henry get the fishing poles and see if you might catch a couple of
trout for supper. William you and Isaac get the campfire started
while Sary and I get the stew going.” Speaking to Mattie Ann and
Lizzie, “You two just make yourselves useful.”

Stephen and Thomas are gleefully
whooping as they landed a couple of large Rainbows. Thomas proudly
rushes back into camp with a twelve-inch whopper. Stephen has that
downcast look of dejection, but his ten-inch trout is nothing to
sneeze at. Malinda brags and Sary oohs and awes at their catch.
“Boys get over there on that log and clean those two beauties, they
are going to make some fine eating for supper.”

Stephen and Thomas are laughing and
slapping each other on the back as they find a place to begin
cleaning their fish. “What was that?” Stephen quietly
asks.

“
Don’t know, didn’t hear
nothin’.”

“
There, hear that? That
was the whinny of a horse coming through the woods. Mama,” Stephen
said to his mother in a loud whisper, “someone’s
coming!”

“
Sary, get the gun out of
the wagon.”

Malinda had the 12-gauge in her hands
as a couple of men on horseback came out of the woods into the
light of the fire. They appeared to be dressed in uniform, but not
blue or grey. What they wore was more of the Forest Green color.
Their faces were tanned from months of exposure to the sun, in fact
their skin had more the appearance of leather than skin. Their eyes
were sunken deep within their eye sockets and appeared as though
they had seen many unhappy events in the past. Both had shaggy
beards that had grown to the top of their green collars. The
closest man had a chew of tobacco so large Malinda wondered how he
ever got it into his mouth. Both had cavalry sabers hanging from
their belts and bedrolls tied to their saddles. The saddles, from
where Malinda stands, appear to be military – but whose? Yankee or
Confed?

The one closest spits tobacco juice on
the ground beside his horse, “Howdy Ma’am, we smelt yer fire from
way off and thought we might need to reconnoiter the situation.
What’s two wimmen like yerselfs doing out here in this wilderness?
I sees you have three or four boys with you, where’s your men
folk?”

“
The three men with us are
out in the woods gathering up firewood!” Malinda says, thinking
that might forestall any bad intentions the two vagabonds might
have.

“
Seems to me,” said the
second man, “you’ve got plenty wood piled up there already.”
Dismounting from his horse, “What’s we havin’ fer supper? I sees a
big pot of somethin’ biling there over that far, and them two over
by the logs got a couple of nice fryin’ fish. Thanks fer invitin’
us for supper.”

Malinda raises the shotgun, “You hit
that saddle on your horse and the two of you get back to wherever
you came from, I mean it!”

“
Now,” said man number
one, “you don’t have to git so bossy we’s just tryin’ to be
friendly, and thought you might be neighborly and let us have some
hot food. We ain’t et no hot vittles in quite a spell, and youse
for shore the first wimmen we’ve seen up close in a mighty long
spell too. White or black, right Herman?”

Looking at the two women he smiled,
“Yo’re right Jimbo, and that honey-haired one is shore
purty.”

Herman had not made any attempt to get
back upon his horse. He unbuttoned his jacket to expose a large
Colt pistol buckled to his hip in a manner that made it easy to get
to, and placed his right hand on the handle. “What you say about
them vittles little lady?” Glancing toward their wagons, he said,
“What about them wagons? What ya got in them? Whatcha say me and
you have a little fun after we done et?”

Malinda has made up her mind, although
she isn’t happy about the situation, he wants fun then she’s going
to let him have some fun – from the business end of her 12 gauge.
She is going to kill these two before they get the upper hand on
her. She pulls the two rabbit-eared hammers back on the shotgun,
she takes up the tension on the trigger, she’s within a fraction of
a second ready to fire when suddenly another green clad rider
emerges from the woods, “What’s goin’ on here Sergeant!” Announces
the latest newcomer.

Malinda releases the tension on the
shotgun trigger. Looks toward the tree line, but cannot plainly see
the man speaking. The sun is directly at his back and all she can
see is the outline of a man with the sunrays seemingly radiating
from his body.

“
Well sir,” said Jimbo,
“these here kind ladies was jest about to ask us to have supper
with them, ain’t that right ma’am?”

Assessing the situation, it was two
armed riders against only one lone horseman, she figured the odds
were on the side of the two with the pistols so she replied, “Yes,
that is right, we were just going to invite these two gentlemen to
sup with us.”

“
Sergeant! You and the
corporal get back to our camp and get your supper there like the
rest of the men, now git!”

“
Yessir, Captain, we’s
goin’!” said Jimbo saluting.

Stepping from his horse, the rider
removes his hat. Malinda could plainly see him now but couldn’t
help notice his hat adorned with a large black ostrich feather.
“I’m sorry ladies if my men were a nuisance to you. Those were two
of my scouts Sergeant Guthrey and Corporal Gullion. Sometimes,
living in the woods months on end as we do, they overstep their
bounds and forget their manners. Let me introduce myself, and
apologize for their actions, I will deal with them later. Ladies I
am Captain Francis Angel Marion, some call me the Swamp
Fox.”

Malinda responds, “Francis Marion, I
seem to remember there was a Swamp Fox named Francis Marion in the
Revolutionary War?”

“
Your memory is totally
accurate Madam that was my grandfather. I am Francis Angel Marion,
his grandson. I lead as my grandfather did before me, an outfit of
Confederate rangers who operate behind the enemy lines. We wear the
green uniforms to blend in with the green of the forest. All my men
are volunteers and are as skilled woodsmen as they are excellent
soldiers. That is, excepting their manners.”

Malinda introduces herself and her
family. She explains that they are on their way to South Carolina
and her husband and two sons are fighting for the Confederacy,
where exactly, she does not know. She explains about losing the
farm for back taxes and the need to move to a place where she has
relatives.

“
Obviously by leaving your
home in Alabama to the tax collector you are limited in funds,”
taking a leather pouch from his saddlebag he tosses it to Malinda.
“Take this, you will need provisions along the way and tolls will
have to be paid to ferrymen to cross some of the rivers you will
encounter.”

“
No! Sir,” responds
Malinda, “we cannot take your money, you and your men will have
need of it!”

“
Not to worry Mrs.
Scarburg, it once belonged to the Union army, anyway we can all
ways get more where that came from. It has been a pleasure meeting
you all, and I wish you a safe journey to your destination in
Carolina. My men will insure you safe passage until you reach the
thundering water of Anna Ruby Falls. This unique double waterfall
cascades off of Tray Mountain in a spectacular 153-foot drop, you
will be safe until you reach that area. From there to the Carolina
border be on the lookout not only for Yankees, but deserters of
both armies and of course run-away slaves. I suggest you camp at
the base of the waterfall for a couple of weeks until the Yankee
command garrisoned on the Georgia and South Carolina border move
out and return back up north. Post a guard at night and in the
daytime always be on the alert. Until we meet again, I bid you
adieu.” Tipping his hat, he mounts his horse, turns and disappears
into the forest as quickly as he had arrived.

“
Quick Miss Malinda open
that poke...how much money did he’s gave us?”

“
Lordy, Sary! What am I to
do with you?” Malinda said smiling. She may be smiling and making
jest with Sary, but she is also very interested in the money too.
Exploring the contents of the pouch she sees it is only a couple of
small gold pieces and a few silver coins that total nearly ten
dollars, but ten dollars is ten dollars more money than they had
before!

It was then Malinda realized Sary’s
prayer as they were about to board the wagons and leave Alabama,
“
Keep us always mindful of Your presence and love. May God in
heaven ride with us on this dangerous journey… and may you sends
one of your angels to protect us and give us a helping hand, if the
need comes.”

‘
Well, I’ll be,
’
thought Malinda,
‘Francis Angel Marion!’

Chapter
Thirty-Seven

WHAT’S YOUR
BUSINESS?

The late summer air was stifling and
hot as Luke sat on the front porch cleaning the guns he and Sam had
gotten off the dead outlaws after they killed the bear. They had
salvaged three Colt handguns, two Henry .44 caliber carbine rifles
and three skinning knifes. He had just finished cleaning one of the
Henrys as he noticed four riders approaching from the direction of
Knoxville. He assumed they were heading over the mountain to
Lexington, Kentucky, he assumed wrong.

Once the riders reach the gate leading
up to the farmhouse they stop. They do not nudge their horses
forward up the mountain they turn and enter through the gate. From
the gate to the house, a distance of about five hundred yards, the
riders spur their mounts into a slow gallop.

As they approach Luke stands up and
walks to the railing of the porch carrying one of the Henrys, fully
loaded. As the four men near he can see, they are not locals, they
each are riding double hitched, Texas quarter horses, the type of
horse used to rope and herd cattle. The man riding in front wears a
pair of black, boot length chaps. His Mexican roping saddle is
glissining, solid black leather, inlaid with silver. His spurs are
so large Luke can hear them jingling as he rides. All four wear
leather vests and tall, ten-gallon Texas Stetsons. Colt .44
six-shooters are strapped to the leg of each. They each have lassos
tied to the right side of their saddles. The bullets in their
holsters glint in the sunlight as they approach.

“
Howdy, friend,” the
leader says to Luke as he reins his horse to a stop.

Before answering Luke looks the
strangers over closely; however, the one with the black chaps has a
.45 on each hip with the butts turned forward. Luke assumes this is
to necessitate a faster draw. Luke recognizes a gunfighter when he
sees one. He didn’t know about the other three, but this one dude
is not only the leader he is also the fast draw of the bunch.
Setting the Henry butt end down upon the porch railing, finger on
the trigger, hammer back Luke replies, “What’s your
business?”

“
Now,” says the
gunslinger, “that don’t sound very neighborly, friend.”

“
Two things wrong with
that,” said Luke.

“
What you trying to say
friend?”

“
I ain’t your neighbor and
I sure ain’t your friend, now turn them horses of yours around and
mosey, yeah that what you say in Texas ain’t it, ‘mosey’ on back to
the gate and keep on going.”

The gunslinger sits up in his saddle
and asks, “Where’d you get that Henry carbine? It’s got the
initials “B.T.” carved in the stock. That rifle belongs to Buck
Thornhill. How’d you get it?”

“
Buck must’a lost it and I
found it, guess it rightly belongs to me now,” said
Luke.

As Luke talks the gunfighter rises up
on his right leg and begins to throw his left leg over his horse’s
flank as if going to dismount. Luke grabs the Henry and pulls the
trigger, the gunfighter falls headfirst to the ground. The .45 he
had slipped into his right hand to ambush Luke falls to the ground
also.