6 Miles With Courage (11 page)

No
,
Bob did not like where his thoughts were going so he started to think about pleasant thoughts.

I’m sure the
y’re alright! Most likely they’re putting out a campfire and getting ready to take-off and beat the coming rain. I bet they had a great time bonding last night. They probably enjoyed every minute of their time together.

Yes, Bob was reassuring himself nicely, too nicely as his mind began to drift now more towards thoughts of
being with Judy.

After Judy cooks a nice supper we sit beside each other on the couch. She puts on one of her favorite movies. I can see by the look in her eye, she wants to kiss me. Slowly we come together. I turn my head sideways as I prepare for my lips to touch her
..........................cattle gates? In front of the dirt road that I was supposed to turn down! SCREEEEEEEECCCCHHHHHH!!

Bob locked up the brakes on his cruiser and slid down
Highway 19 sideways for thirty feet before he snapped out of it and came to his senses. As fast as the silly thoughts entered his head they were gone. He pulled off the highway and onto the dirt road coming to a stop in front of the gates. He got out and checked to see if they were locked. He was in luck they were not.

Bob checked the aerial
photo one more time to make sure he had the right road. He did but with the darkening sky the tree-covered road looked more like a tunnel than anything else. Starting to drive down it cautiously he feels his tires sinking into the mud, loosing traction he steps on the accelerator once more.

He drove fast and hard towards the light at the end of the tunnel. He knew from the aerial
photo that the brightness ahead was the second airstrip in the area. Slinging mud and banging off of small trees he pressed on with only one thought in mind. He was hoping that he would be greeting Rob and Ryan any minute. He drove on with a smile on his face.

This time when Bob broke out of the dark and muddy trail and onto the airstrip there was no dust to wait on settling before he could see
, but the windshield was covered in mud. He pressed the washer button and patiently waited for his vision to clear as the fluid and wipers did their job. Slowly everything came into view and slowly the smile had left his face. For one thing became perfectly clear. There was not an airplane anywhere insight.

At least there wasn’t an airplane in the direction he was looking.
So again he pulled his door handle and arose out of his cruiser to get a better look in the other direction. He walked away from the car and found himself staring west across the long expanse of the second grassy airstrip. He strained his eyes to see an airplane in the distance but
again
it was not to be. He walked back over to his cruiser and pounded the hood of his car with a closed fist—right next to the radio antenna—but this time it
was
done out of desperation.

“Rob
you darn fool! How could you be so stupid?” He fell back into the cruiser’s front seat, leaned back and pounded the steering wheel with his fist.

“
What now!” he said and looking to his right—toward the crumbled aerial photo—he suddenly saw it.

He picked it up in disbelief. Why had he not seen it before?
There it was as plain as the nose on his face and right in-the-middle of the job that Rob went to scout. There it stood a great big grassy field!

“But of course Rob old boy
, you’re not as dumb as you look!” Bob said.

Bob began to rationalize away the reason why he did not find Rob and Ryan at either of the two established airstrips
, a great big grassy field in the middle of the job. Why, could there be a better place to land, scout the job, camp and then takeoff in the morning? I should think not—Bob said to himself convincingly. And in a matter of moments he flung the aerial photo aside and took off for his new and final destination to look for Rob and Ryan.

Joyful and full of hope he made his way out to the hard
road and turned on his flashing blue lights. He drove towards the trail that would lead him to the field. He had a new smile and a new song in his heart but it was soon to be crushed. Crushed like a paper cup by the uncaring and inconsiderate— hand of fate.

As he made his way down the trail there were many signs of land surveying activity
heightening Bob’s excitement. There were newly brushed lines and lots of pink and orange survey ribbon fluttering about in tree branches. In his mind they were put there by Rob and Ryan but the markings and ribbon came from other surveyors scouting the job for their bid on the project. Fate can be
extremely
cruel sometimes.

When Sergeant Bob Mallory finally drove off the trail and into the large grassy area his cruiser went fifteen feet before it came to an abrupt halt. It had quickly sunk down to its axels in mud. Bob open his door and stepped out in disbelief.
The area on the photo was
not
a field but merely a large grassy pond. Rob would have known this from the aerial photo and
never
would have attempted to land there. Like air escaping from an untied balloon Bob’s hope and joy quickly left him.

Realizing the truth to
the current situation he sloshed over to the front fender of his sunken cruiser and grasping the antenna, he snapped it off at the base and proceeded to pound it
mercilessly
across the hood. He flung the antenna as far as he could out into the pond, and looking for something else to destroy he grabbed the driver’s side mirror and tried to bust
it
off but it wouldn’t budge. He punched the mirror. This was Bob Mallory at his lowest.

Sloshing in the mud he back
s away from his cruiser so he would not destroy it any further or hurt himself. Looking across the pond and the surrounding wilderness he suddenly feels helpless and detached from the possibility of finding his friend anytime soon. He sees a flutter of survey ribbon in the distance. He cups his hands to his mouth and bends at the knee. With all his might he gives a mighty yell in its direction.

“R
OB! RYYYAAANNN!” there is no answer but the wind. He tries again this time spinning around in a complete circle. “ROB! RYYYAAANNN!” he listens intently for a response but no response will come.

And so it comes to an end this rescue attempt by Bob Mallory. In the end
it will have to be Ryan’s courage and his courage alone to bring a rescue but Bob doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know it now, nor will this stop him from trying to find his friend and his friend’s son. Soon he will come to his senses and return to his cruiser where he will make a call on his radio to the Sheriff’s base of operations. He will have the helicopter swing by and—guided by his flashing lights—pick him up from the grassy pond as the search begins. He will have a tow truck get his cruiser while he joins the search from the air.

For now however Bob is nothing more than Rob and Ryan are at this very moment
, a
speck
on a vast plain of wilderness. It could be worse for Bob however. It could be raining.

The darkened sky rolls in across the pond where Bob sits in his cruiser waiting. For a moment he thought his flashing lights had grown brighter but it was just the sky growing darker.

There is a strange sound on the roof of Bob’s cruiser. Just as the weatherman had predicted the heavy drizzle had arrived. It started to rain.

There they stood looking at each other
, not so much as whispering a word, Ryan and this bearded stranger with a long-barreled rifle. They have the same last name and that simple fact alone allows them—
no it demands them
—to stop and ponder each other’s existence.

From Ryan’s perspective his words have temporarily defused the situation, and by the stranger lowering the rifle he has a brief chance to look him over. His eyes begin to focus on an oddity of a man.

There he stood at six-and-a-half feet tall, holding his 1861 single shot muzzle loading rifle near his hip. Ryan had never seen a .58 caliber, Minie ball rifle. It was enormously long. The tip was near Ryan’s belly yet the stranger was four feet away. His attire was just as peculiar.

He wore rough
cut leather boots high above the ankle, grey wool pants that were tucked (or
bloused
as some would say) inside orange wools socks pulled up to below the knee. A black leather belt with a good size brass buckle having the initials CSA held up his pants. Tucked inside the belt was a long-sleeve grey wool shirt. A single row of brass buttons adorned the front. On his belt hung a rifle cartridge box, bayonet and scabbard, tin cup, haversack and a canteen. Across his shoulder was a blanket roll. On his head was a floppy leather cowboy-type hat turned sideways. On his face a full black beard hiding all expression. But those eyes told Ryan he was a dangerous man. Ryan spoke first.

“Like I said, that’s
my name
, Sykes I mean,” Ryan said nervously.

Jeb
ediah Sykes did not answer him. Behind his full bead was hidden a sarcastic smirk. He was thinking that—of all the lies that men have told him—he had never heard
anyone
say that they shared the same last name as he. This entertained Jebediah as much as it took him by surprise. He held his words and waited for Ryan to say something else entertaining.

“My Pa sa
id that we have kin folk from around this area,” Ryan said with caution, but his words drew no response from Jebediah.

“If fact we Sykes go back many generations around these parts, why we could be
kinfolk.” Ryan did not know why he adapted a southern drawl to his speech but it seemed to fit. Sometimes the human mind reacts in strange ways when it comes to survival.

Jebediah shook his head in disbelief at what he was hearing. He said no words but let out a weak chuckle. He was amused but growing increasingly irritated at this foolish talk. He had an agenda and he needed to stick to it. He kept his rifle trained on Ryan’s belly.

Ryan could sense Jebediah growing impatient so he continued to speak. What he didn’t
know and could not have known was that he was carrying the conversation in the wrong direction.

“Oh, I get it now, why it just dawned on me, your part of that civil war reenactment from the weekend
aren’t you?” Ryan asked with interest.

This
caused Jebediah to lose his smirk and his patients; through clenched teeth he let Ryan know he had enough of his babblings. He raised his rifle up pointing it between Ryan’s eyes.

“Boy
, when I get you back to base camp up on Bear Creek, I’ll get $20 dollars for your sorry hide
dead or alive
but that’s up to you. And right now I’d just as soon drill a bullet into your brain than listen to another ounce of your foolishness.”

Well
, Jebediah had spoken and it was not at all what Ryan expected, but he knew it was time to play along. Besides after all Bear Creek was in the direction he needed to go.

“Well then, you got me mister,” Ryan said
as he slowly raised his hands, “your right nobody fools the likes of a Sykes, why not even a Sykes!”

Jebediah listened intently now as he waited for a confession.

“I’m a scout alright, a scout for the North, please don’t shoot me!” Ryan said it as plain and calm as he could while keeping a straight face.

“I knew it!” Jebediah exclaimed, “Now start walking towards that large cypress out yonder and don’t try anything funny.”

Ryan turned and looked in the direction of the large cypress and sure enough it was right in line with the bearing he took just a few moments ago with the compass. He smiled to himself as he walked down the embankment and into the swamp holding his hands up high. Jebediah followed close behind with his rifle pointed at Ryan’s back.

They no
sooner stepped down into the water when Ryan remembered his pack and machete on the raft. Ryan stopped walking but he did not turn around as he pondered for a moment as to what he should do. He decided that he would not say anything because he knew all he really needed was the compass in his pocket. Besides when they got back to this so called base camp and this overzealous re-enactor got his $20, maybe he would share some food and water and perhaps give him a ride out to Forest Road 77.

Jebediah did not take kindly to Ryan stopping. He put the barrel of his rifle
in between Ryan’s shoulder blades and shoved him forward causing Ryan to stumble into the swamp face first with a great pain in his back. Ryan rose up on one knee and splashed water at Jebediah with one hand, and trying to reach his sore back with the other, grumbled loudly in defiance.

“What is wrong with you? Aren’t we taking this a little too seriously?”

Jebediah shuffled through the water and stood directly over Ryan’s crouching body. Then Ryan, looking up at the backlit silhouette of a mountain of a man said, “Don’t you know it’s a Monday? And you’re out here in the middle of this swamp playing games! Shouldn’t you be at your real job?” 

The
silhouette was the last thing Ryan saw before he was knocked unconscious. Jebediah came across the side of Ryan’s head with the butt of his rifle and sent the sarcastic youth face first into the swamp. He lies there bubbling. He would have drowned had not Jebediah pulled him up, and pull him up he did. With one motion he threw Ryan over his shoulder with the use of only one hand.

Ryan begins the half
mile journey to Bear Creek unconscious and slung over the shoulder of this giant of a man. To Jebediah the weight of Ryan is nothing more than his bedroll on a rainy day. He hardly notices he is carrying Ryan as he skillfully slips through the cypress swamp like he has done countless times before.

As the thick morning fog begins to rise towards the canopy high above
, the inhabitants of the swamp begin to greet the morning. The suppression of the fog is lifting. It’s time to make noise and to move about. High above the Banana Spiders repair their webs, the birds twitter to and fro and the snakes are slithering down below.

Jebediah weaves in and out of the cypress knees with great ease and speed. The embankment
quickly fades into the distance. At this pace Jebediah will cover the half mile distance to Bear Creek within thirty minutes. That is to say if Ryan doesn’t cause any trouble when he wakes up.

There is no telling what
first awakened Ryan. It could have been the gentle rocking in his gut as he lay across the stranger’s shoulder, or maybe it was the warm trickle of blood that ran up the side of his head into his hair—dripping into the swamp. Or maybe it was just the fact the he was upside down starring at the backside of the stranger watching the heels of his boots as he skillfully walked through the swamp.

No matter the cause for his awaking, awaken he did
, and surprisingly he had the nerve to stay calm and ride it out. For just a fleeting moment he thought about St. Christopher carrying the boy across the river upon his shoulders. Not exactly like he was being carried, but none the less it reminded him of the story once again. As his head began to clear he begins to assess his situation.

He watched the blood trickle into the swamp and based on the occasional drop he figured that although he had a killer headache he was not hurt bad. He kept his breathing steady so as not to alarm the stranger that he had awakened. He figured that he had been
knocked out for ten minutes, and based on how fast he was being carried he figured he was about a third of the way to Bear Creek. His head began to feel numb from being upside down and he had a real urge to leap off his shoulder and put up a fight. He decided against it.

One
might argue the statement that,
it took more courage to stay put than to fight
, but in this situation there was no argument. It
did
take more courage to stay put. The urge to fight would have been easy to give in to. He decided against fighting because after all he was being
carried
to Bear Creek. But more importantly he was learning from a master how to make progress through a swamp.

Watching from behind gave Ryan the unique vantage point of being able to see the last fifty feet or so of the swamp that they had covered, including the exact steps that the stranger had taken. Ryan began to see a pattern to his steps
revealed by the wake he left behind.

As the stranger walked he stepped in such a way
that he never allowed the water to enter the top of his boots. He did this by stepping near the tufts of ferns and not by stepping near the cypress knees. The swamp water was much shallower near these tufts. This was a valuable lesson to learn. If Ryan had known this earlier it would have saved him some banged up shins.

Ryan was learning other things as well. The stranger paused to eat some blackberries off a thorny bush (Ryan took note of the type of bush) eating the wrong berries c
an kill you. He watched as he avoided hat-floaters, spider webs, and hornets’ nests. All these things passed harmlessly behind them as they slipped through the swamp with ease and Ryan took it all in for future reference.

Future reference because once they reached Bear Creek and Jebediah got his $20 dollars for turning him in and the
“game” was over, he still had a half mile of swamp to go before reaching the uplands. Hopefully he could talk the stranger into giving him a ride to the hard road. But based on the fact that he has shown his temper once already, Ryan is not sure what to expect. He does know however that with his new found knowledge of how to travel in the swamp and the trusty compass that is tucked deep inside his pocket. He will be just fine.

The stranger stopped suddenly
. With one motion and without the use of his hands he buckled at the knee than sprang upward ducking under Ryan causing Ryan to land on his other shoulder. Ryan was surprised by his strength and agility.

Ryan was also surprised at how
musty his bedroll smelled now that his face was buried in it. It had the appearance and odor of a bed roll that had been used rather extensively between cleanings. Ryan was thinking that for a weekend warrior he would be more apt to cleaning his equipment.

Ryan struggled to keep his head above the bedroll and into the fresh air but it was too strenuous. He laid his head down and rode along with the gentle rocking motion. He saw all that he was going to see and he learned all that he could from this position. Besides they should be coming upon Bear Creek any moment now. 

A few minutes had passed and Ryan
was starting to doze off when he heard a commotion ahead of them. The stranger heard it too because he came to a stop and listened intently. Off in the distance was the sound of several men hooting and hollering and making a loud ruckus. Ryan’s heart began to pound with excitement at the thought of getting help sooner than anticipated. The bedroll concealed his pounding heart as his mind raced through the possibilities of what lie ahead.

“Dang
nabbed! What are they trying to prove?” Jebediah said.

Then the stranger started to stomp
-off in the direction of the commotion and the ride for Ryan got rough as he struggled to stay limp and continue to hide the fact that he was awake. The uproar grew loader and the swamp began to dry up as the ground was rising on the approach to Bear Creek. The stranger had begun to trot causing Ryan to bounce up and down like a sack of potatoes.

After a few moments the stranger stopped and the commotion was right in front of them. Ryan
really
wanted to open his eyes and lift his head but he dared not. The stranger gently lowered Ryan to the ground and propped him up against a tree on the north side of Bear Creek. He left Ryan there and walked out into the creek towards the ruckus. When Ryan heard his feet splashing he knew it was safe to open his eyes.

Through his squinted eyelids Ryan could see that the commotion came from four men all huddled very close together under a tree at the south bank of the creek. They were yelling and splashing water at a bear cub just ten feet away in the center of the creek. They were trying to get it to move
-on because they knew the mother would be close by and you
never
want to get between a mother bear and her cub.

The clanking noise told Ryan that the men were shackled together by their hands and feet, and they were also shackled to the tree. This made their effort to scare the cub most ineffective. It wasn’t until the stranger joined in from Ryan’s side of the creek with splashing and yelling that
the cub bolted fifty yards upstream to the west, and stood near the shore staring back at the men. For some reason it seemed like it wanted to come back as if the men really were between it and it’s mother.