Spake As a Dragon (20 page)

“
I saw yer fire and though
I might come in and git warm. My name’s Billy Jefferson, Old Bill
as most calls me,” he said spitting. “I’m a prospector, been at it
near on fifty years now. I’ll strike it rich one of these days. I
keep telling myself that mother lode is jest around the next bend
in the river.”

“
Billy Jefferson, ye say?
I got me a brother called Tom Jefferson, actually his’en is Thomas
Jefferson Scarburg. We jest call him Jefferson. You alone Mr.
Jefferson?” Before Old Bill could answer, “Pull up a chunk of wood
to sat on and warm yerself close to the fire.”

“
No, it’s jest Old Bill,
and I’m alone, well I suppose I ought to count my burro Lucky, and
my horse Goldie. Never could keep a real partner, they sez I’m too
ornery. Don’t know why I call her ‘Lucky’ she ain’t never led me to
an ounce of gold, and Goldie, well that speaks fer itself. You
alone too Mr... Mr... I didn’t catch yer name.”

“
Didn’t throw it, but
mines Nate...Nate Scarburg. My partners out fetching water sos I
can boil us some coffee.”

“
You fellers usin’ them
parched corn kernels fer coffee?”

“
No sir’ree bob, we got
the real thang. Coffee jest like we had afore the War...” Nate
slowed for a moment thinking back to the good old days before this
awful War began. His home in South Carolina and his Ma, Pa and
brother in Alabama... “Uh, what was I sayin’?”

Before Old Bill could answer, a noise
comes from the brush. Was it Yankees, bandits, or bushwhackers? The
fire is burning brightly; it is too late to hide or putout the
fire. Nate says nervously to Old Bill, “That’s my partner coming
now,” Nate slowly wraps his fingers around the trigger of the
Spencer and begins to point it towards the sound. He quietly adds,
“I hope!” Shouldering the rifle to fire, he says again, “Halt!
Halt, or I’m gonna shoot! I’s got me a rifle, and I know how to use
it!”

“
Hold on there Nate! It’s
me Luke.”

Luke, walks his horse into the
campsite, dismounts and slowly moves toward the fire. “We got
company Nate?”

“
Yes sir, this here’s
Billy Jefferson goes by Old Bill, he’s been looking for that chance
to git rich in these here hills. Gold, sez he gonna find that
mother lode someday.”

Tipping the brim of his hat Luke
replies, “It’s my pleasure Mr. Jefferson.”

“
Hope you don’t mind me
buttin’ into your camp, but I seen you’re fire and was hopein’ to
get my old bones warmed up, but Nate tells me y’all got some real,
gen-u-wine coffee. He invited me to a cup and laws a mercy, I ain’t
had no real coffee in... in... ain’t that a shame, I don’t remember
the last real coffee I’ve had.”

“
Nate’s right Mr.
Jefferson, we have real coffee, and it would be a pleasure to have
you join us for supper.”

“
Nobody calls me Mister,
if you don’t mind it’s just Old Bill.”

A while later after eating, leaning
back against a tree Luke smells the sweet coffee aroma coming from
his cup, takes another sip and speaks to Old Bill, “Hope you
enjoyed your meal – coffee, sow belly and beans make pretty good
eating’.”

“
Y’all don’t know how much
I enjoyed that meal, it’s been a while since I ate so good. Can’t
remember the last time I et bacon. If I jest had a chaw of tobaccy,
it will be perfect.”

“
Sorry, Old Bill, but I
don’t have any tobacco, but Nate might give you a chaw of his
plug.”

Old Bill glanced down at the Union
blue horse blanket Luke had spread on the ground for his bed. He
couldn’t help but notice the big white general’s star sewn in the
corner. He had also spied the
U.S.
brands on both Luke and
Nate’s horses.

“
You fellows
Yanks?”

“
Why would you ask?” Luke
replies.

“
Well, you see I don’t
take sides with the North or South in an open fight, but I see from
your gear you must be Yankees.”

“
I guess it isn’t going to
hurt to tell you – no, Nate and I are not Yanks, we’re Southerners
through and through. Our horses, saddles and such were stolen from
a cavalry unit just out of Cincinnati. We figured they had a bunch
of them and wouldn’t miss just a couple, but Nate,” chuckles Luke,
“just had to get the General’s horse and tack. Nate was conscripted
into the Union Army as a muleskinner, but a while back those Yanks
killed his wife and son, so he’s run off trying to return home. I
was captured at Gettysburg but escaped, anyway it’s a long
story.”

Grinning, Old Bill answered, “Now I
get it. Sure, glad to hear that. It’s the truth I’m neutral, but I
have a strong leaning to the South.” Tom said wiping his brow with
his handkerchief.

“
Old Bill can I ask you a
question?”

“
A question, for me? Shore
nuff, what could I know that would interest you?”

“
Could you give me a
little bit of information? For instance, what would be our best
route to take to get over these mountains and on to
Knoxville?”

“
As fer as gittin’ over
this mountain, of course, the best way is the Wilderness Road, the
one Dan’el Boone laid out, but those Yankees keep a close eye on
it. It’s ‘bout the only way to git a wagon over these mountains. It
runs right smack through the Cumberland Gap, that’s where them
Yanks will be, but I know another trail that leads from here plumb
to the other side. Those Yanks don’t know about it tho’ so y’all
will be safe usin’ it. Safe as fer as meeting Yanks, but I wouldn’t
advise trying to go over this mountain in the winter. It’s fer too
dangerous.”

“
We’ll take the risk, will
you show us where the trail begins?”

Old Bill readily agreed, with one
stipulation: he was traveling in the same direction and wanted to
accompany Luke and Nate across the mountain.

“
Shore nuff, be happy to
have you with us,” Nate answered.

Luke invited Old Bill to bed down
beside the fire and after breakfast they would set out across the
mountain at first light.

All three lie down on their saddle
blankets and within a few minutes Old Bill is jarring the ground
with his snoring. Luke waits another hour, slips quietly over to
Nate. Places his hand over Nate’s mouth, scaring him almost to
death. “Shhh,” whispers Luke removing his hand and placing his
index finger over his own lips. Motioning with his hand for Luke to
follow they slip away from the fire into the cover of the brush
nearby.

“
By gosh Luke, what you
tryin’ to do, smother me?”

“
Shhh, quite Nate. I want
to talk about Old Bill. I don’t believe he is whom he says he
is.”

“
What you mean
Luke?”

“
He says he is a
prospector. Did you see a pick or shovel on his pack animal? No, me
neither, and did you notice that Arkansas Toothpick knife he ate
his supper with?”

“
Luke, yeah I seen it, but
perzackly what is one of them tooth picky knifes?”

“
It just means the
Arkansas Toothpick is a heavy dagger with a 12-inch pointed,
straight blade. The knife is balanced and weighted for throwing and
is used for thrusting and slashing in a fight. I don’t think a
prospector would need a blade like that, and did you notice his
hands – they do not seem rough enough for someone who uses a pick
and shovel all day.”

“
What you saying
Luke?”

“
Remember what that
innkeeper told me about this road? He said this road is a good
place to run upon cutthroats and thieves. I believe it was no
accident that Billy Jefferson, or whoever he is, found us. I
believe he’s working with those outlaws! Slip back over to your
blanket, but keep one eye on our guest. I don’t trust Old Bill, so
tomorrow don’t let on we suspect him. Let him make the first move.
Get some rest, we’ll leave at first light.”

UP THE MOUNTAIN
TRAIL

It is an hour or so before sunup. Old
Bill is already up packing his equipment on Lucky, his burro. Nate
had rustled up a load of firewood and Luke has a pot of coffee
brewing over the hot fire. A light rain is falling, not hard rain,
just enough to make a cold day in December more
miserable.

Sitting around the campfire sipping on
his coffee and nibbling on hardtack Old Bill explains the ordeal
they are about to undertake. He tells how the trail over the
mountain is hazardous with cliffs that drop hundreds of feet in
places. In others, a horse and rider can barely squeeze through the
tight opening between the rocks. He then mentions the weather. Old
Bill reminds Luke and Nate that it is December. December means
snow, and as the darkness begins to fade, the sky he says indicates
snow is coming soon. He expects the light rain they are
experiencing down here in the valley will be snow up on the
mountain. He suggests they load up and get started as soon as
possible.

Once mounted they ride down the valley
at the base of the mountain for a mile when Old Bill in the lead
suddenly takes a sharp turn to his left and disappears between a
couple of large cedar trees with long, wide-spread limbs, which
hides the trail.

Nate had been keeping his eye on the
land to his right and did not see Old Bill vanish. He looks back
ahead and now discovers he and Luke are alone. “Luke! What happened
to Old Bill? Where did he go?”

Luke waits for Nate to catch up, “Hush
up Nate! Someone will hear. He turned betwixt them cedars up
yonder.” Luke said putting a heel to his horse. Luke’s horse begins
to gallop forward toward the evergreens Nate follows. Both men rein
their mounts left into the grove of trees ahead they see a trail. A
few hundred feet to their front is Old Bill on a narrow trail that
is beginning to ascend up the mountain. For the next few hours, all
three men wind and weave their horses up the steep incline. All
along, the farther they go up the mountain, the harder the snow is
falling. It appears there must be at least a couple of inches of
snow on the ground.

Luke signals Old Bill, “Bill! Old
Bill!” The old prospector stops and waits for Luke to approach.
Luke explains the snow is getting harder and the trail is becoming
treacherous. He asks Old Bill for advice. Bill says he knows of a
cave up the trail that they can use to get in out of the weather.
They can reach it in another hour or two if their mounts can stay
on the slippery trail.

Old Bill was right and wrong – he was
correct there was a cave ahead they could seek shelter in, but he
was wrong, it has taken nearly four hours getting to it! The snow
has accumulated to the depth of about six inches or better and is
getting deeper by the minute. Finding the cave in this blizzard was
more luck than skill. It is almost impossible to see less than a
few feet in front of them. The snow is falling fast and furious,
and the flakes were the size of a silver quarter. Luke and Nate
have never seen such a snowfall.

KAY MANN

Reaching the cave’s entrance Luke
marveled at the small size of the opening, just large enough to get
their horses in, but is amazed upon entering at the cave’s interior
size – it is huge. He reasons a full-size house could sit within
the enormous cavern. However, it wasn’t the size of the cave he is
concerned about – far back in the rear he sees a fire and a lone
person kneeling close to its crackling flames. A bay mare stands
off to his side. Who is this man is the question?

Luke reaches with his right hand and
slips the leather loop from the hammer of his pistol. He walks his
horse across the vastness of the cave toward the individual but
does not remove his hand from his Colt sidearm. Nate slides the
rifle from his saddle, cocks the hammer back and follows behind
with his finger at ready, on the trigger.

About halfway across the cavern the
noise from the horse’s hooves against the clay floor arouses the
stranger at the fire. He turns to face them. Nate begins to pull
the Colt from its holster; Nate draws the Spencer’s trigger back
into full firing position. They are watching for the least movement
of the stranger’s right hand toward his gun. Within a second or two
either the stranger or one of them are going to be dead – it just
depends upon who is the faster with their gun.

“
Howdy fellers, come on
down to my fire,” motions the stranger. “I’ve got a good hot pot of
coffee brewing, it’s roasted corn kernels, but it’ll warm yer
innards.”

Luke, Nate and Old Bill slowly venture
toward the fire, still unsure if this person is friend or foe. “Put
your hosses over there next to my bay she’ll never mind. I’ve got a
rope stretched to use as a hitch, yer welcome to use
it.”

Dismounting and carefully keeping an
eye on the man at the fire Luke walks from his horse toward him –
his fingers still gripping his .44, he still does not know what to
make of this person.

“
Come closer, I’ve got a
real good fire going. I was most froze to death when I stumbled
upon this place. I believe I have traveled over this mountain a
dozen times using that trail and never once have I noticed this
cave. Wouldn’t have this time neither, but as me and Nellie, oh,
Nellie’s my hoss, got close to the mouth I felt the warm air coming
out, and here I am.”

Luke walks closer, still apprehensive,
still on guard. Once he got within a few feet Luke inquired as to
who he is and what is he doing out here on this mountain in a
driving snow- storm.