Spake As a Dragon (33 page)

The other three pull their pistols and
begin to fire, Luke ducks behind a porch post as slivers of wood
begin to rain down around him. The outlaws are firing so fast he
cannot stick his head out to get another shot, suddenly he hears
the crack of the old Spencer repeater, opening up from the
barn.

Nate knocks one of the riders from his
horse with the first shot. Luke now has time to begin emptying his
Henry toward the remaining two gunmen. One breaks toward the road
in an attempt to escape to the front gate, Luke hears the belching
of fire coming from a Colt .44 from behind the big old oak tree
beside the barn. It is Sam. Sam fires again and headfirst the rider
crumbles from the saddle onto the dirt. Number four hollers, “Don’t
shoot,” while sticking his arms into the air. “I give up!” He no
sooner said the word ‘up’ when another Spencer round caught him
squarely in the chest knocking him from the saddle. He lands flat
on his back with a thud onto the dirt of the yard.

Luke runs out into the yard to check
on the men. The gunslinger never knew what hit him, and the one
Nate popped from the barn was done for too, so was the one Sam hit
who broke and ran for the gate; however, the last one Nate nailed
as he was surrendering was alive, just barely. Just in case these
outlaws are interested, and this one obviously is, a .56 caliber
Spencer makes a mighty big hole going in and an even larger one
coming out.

Luke bends down and cradles the dying
man’s head in his lap, blood oozed from the front and back of his
shirt, “Why? Why did y’all come here looking for trouble?” Luke
earnestly asked.

“
Me and Cimarron wuz up at
the Gap (gasp)... the day Buck comes running in (gasp)... telling
about Old Bill and his gold mine. When spring come (gasp)... we
found that old cabin and what was left of Buck and the other
fellows, so Cimarron (gasp)... just...just figured you all was the
nearest place, so you must a knowed where (gasp)... the...the...
gold wuz or had the map. He said y’all would be (gasp)...
easy...easy... pickin’s. We come here to get... it....,” and he
exhaled deeply, once then twice and died. Luke used his hand and
closed his open eyes.

Up runs Nate, “Why’d you shoot him
Nate, he was givin’ up?”

“
Shucks, I wuz done
two-fer two couldn’t ruint my shootin’ record!”

As the smoke is settling Catherine
runs from the house and throws her arms around Luke, “Are you hurt,
my darling?”

“
No, no I’m fine, I wasn’t
hit anywhere.”

“
Jest in case anybody’s
interested I’s fine too!” Said Nate.

“
Speaking of being
interested,” Nate says, “Sam, where’s Sam?”

“
Last I seen of him,” said
Luke, “he was firing that old Colt pistol from behind the big
oak.”

All three look at the oak, all they
can see is Sam’s legs lying prostrate on the ground – he has been
hit! He isn’t moving. Sam drops the Spencer to the ground and runs
toward the tree, Catherine and Nate follow.

“
Sam! Sam where you been
hit?”

“
My leg Luke, it’s my left
leg!”

Removing his bandana Luke made a
tourniquet and he and Nate carried Sam into the house. Luke worked
on him for a while and called Catherine and Nate to the bedroom and
said, “Well, I’ve got good news and bad. The good is Sam’s goin’ to
be fine, the bullet missed all the major arteries, but the bad is
he’s going to be laid up for at least a month or so.”

“
Nah, Luke gimme a couple
of weeks and I be fit as a fiddle. We’ll load up them wagons and be
gone before the first snow.”

“
I’m sorry Sam, but
leaving this fall is out now, you’ll have to recover and get back
on your feet. We’ll leave for Alabama in the spring.”

“
I’m sorry Luke for
putting us behind schedule, but what was them fellers after
anyhow?”

“
Gold, they knew about the
gold. Listen up, all of you, these four may not be all that knows
our gold secret, so until we leave this place we need to have
someone on guard at all times. Since you’re gonna be off your feet
for a while, Sam you can sit on the front porch and do that job.
Nate get some planks and go down to the front gate and nail it
shut, but before you do let’s bury those dead fellers out there in
the yard. What about up yonder on the hill where your Ma and Pa are
buried?”

“
No way!” Said Catherine,
“I’m not having no murdering outlaws lying next to my mother and
father, bury them out yonder in the pasture, or haul’em off and
throw them off the bluff. That’s good enough for them.”

“
Wow, she a tough one huh
Nate?”

“
Tough as rawhide, Luke, I
believe you’s done met yer match,” Nate said grinning.

Chapter
Thirty-Eight

BURIAL SQUAD

“
Do what? You dirty
turncoat, I heard you and this good-for-nothing Johnny Reb plotting
behind my back. You both thought I was gone, huh? Well, I came in
the rear door and heard every word this grey back said. He’s a
dirty liar, we’ve done a good job running this Point Lookout
Prison, if anything, we’ll probably get a medal. Let me correct
myself, I’ll get one, Sergeant Belue as punishment for consorting
with the enemy I am demoting you to Private and sending you to a
fighting infantry outfit forthwith. Some outfit that is in the hot
of it, you rebel sympathizer.”

Trying to protest, “But Colonel I...
I...”

Enough of you Private Belue, as for
you...you...rabble rouser, no you REBEL rouser, you’re going on
that precious burial detail you are so in love with. From now until
the War ends you can say good-bye to your confederate friends
personally.

Private Belue you report to the
Provost Marshall, I’ll deal with you later, and you,” pointing at
Robert, “go find yourself a bed amongst your friends, if you still
have any left.”

Leaving the Commandant’s office
Robert’s moral was the lowest since joining the Army. He had it
made, a good place to work, a clean bed at night and chow to eat,
as much as he wanted, and he lost it all for what? Then reality hit
him, he didn’t loose anything – trying to save his friends was
worth it. If he could have just been able to get his plan to work,
he could possibly have saved dozens of prisoners. No, he said to
himself that was worth the risk.

Back at his old tent his ‘friends’
would not have anything to do with him. In fact, they threw him
out. One tent after another he tried to find a place to sleep, no
one would accept him. He had become one of the enemy. If only they
knew how hard he had tried to help them, if only. He finally
remembered his old hardtack stand he had once sold candy from and
how old Jim Harper who had taken it over used to give him a dollar
or two had gotten sick and died. Since then the ‘store’ had been
closed.

All he carried with him from the
Commandant’s place was his blanket. That first night he cowered in
among his boxes and tried to sleep the best he could. His sleep
wasn’t very comfortable, nor was it very long, before daybreak, the
‘new’ Commander of the Burial Detail came by and kicked the side of
his box, “Up and at’em we gots burying to do!”

Out in the burial yard Robert was the
first on the shovel digging the grave for someone he didn’t even
know, but he was ashamed. As they placed the body in the grave, he
knew those standing around could care less about the human being
they were burying. So he turns and speaks, “I know you think of me
as the enemy, but I am not. I was assigned a job and I did it to
the best of my ability, you may not have liked what I did, but it
was necessary. Today we are burying one of your friends if not one
of yours, then someone loved him and he will be missed at home.”
Looking skyward, Robert said,
“I pray his soul be taken into
your arms oh Lord, and may he finally be at rest with stomach full
and body warm.”

The burial detail was impressed.
“Scarburg,” one of them said, “I did not realize the strain you
were under, you were always one of us. I’m sorry.”

Robert replied quietly, “I always
tried to do the best for you all, but sometimes it seemed as if I
was on the Yankee’s side, I was not.”

“
Tonight, come down to our
tent. You know we are the Burial Squad, you are welcome. We don’t
last long among the living but at long as we do you will be counted
as one of us.” The man offering the olive branch was Jack Thomason.
Robert recognized him but never knew his name.

Winter is coming on and Robert is
welcome to any invitation for shelter inside. The Death Squad or
not, warmth is warmth wherever he can get it.

Day after day Robert fell out each
morning and did his job on the burial detail. Each day, as the
others were getting weaker and weaker since the Camp Commander had
issued half rations. Full rations were only about 800 calories per
day. Now they had been reduced to approximately 400 calories per
day. Grown men cannot exist on 800 calories much less 400. It was
just a matter of time before starvation takes it toll and the
members of the Burial Squad become the ones being buried instead of
the ones doing the burying.

It is late autumn, winter is coming,
wind from the Chesapeake Bay is beginning to get colder and colder.
It is apparent the end of the War is near. Each day prisoners are
being transported from Point Lookout to other locations, just where
no one knows. The inmates are being exchanged for Union prisoners,
at least that is what they hope is happening.

Each day at morning formation names
are called for the prisoners to be exchanged, each day Robert’s
name is not called. How much longer can he survive? He resolves to
take it one day at a time.

Chapter
Thirty-Nine

CROSS OVER THE
RIVER

Malinda had camped at Anna Ruby falls
in northern Georgia for the past couple of months. Malinda had
stayed as long as she thought it prudent, they must get back on the
trail. Fall was coming on fast and she knew she had to get to South
Carolina before winter set in. She knew if they got caught in a
snowstorm in these mountains it will be disastrous, but Captain
Marion had told her he would let her know when the Yankees pulled
out. She had not seen him in over a month, and Yankees or not they
have to get going.

Leaving their farm in April, Malinda
had told Sary the trip to Scarlettsville should take about two
months – sometime during the month of June they should have been
pulling into Scarlett, or what was left of it. Now it is August and
she is still at least a month away from their
destination.

“
Everyone set,” Malinda
said, “South Carolina here we come!”

“
Afore you say it Mizz
Malinda, I done checked, we’s got Mister Robert’s big ole Bible on
the wagon! Now let’s make tracks.”

The trail through the mountains of
northern Georgia was tough going, but women or not they met every
obstacle that confronted them and overcame it with fortitude and
determination.

They were a week or so away from the
falls, Malinda remembered the Tallulah, it had to be crossed pretty
soon. The Tallulah was right on the border between Georgia and
South Carolina, she had remembered Robert had bargained with a
large raft that carried them across the last time. Maybe, she
thought, someone had established a permanent ferry crossing. She
also thought if a ferry was in business that was probably where the
Yankees were camped.

At last on the morning of the second
week as they topped the hill on what was known as Fry Gap road they
could see the wide expanse of river down below. Another days ride
and they would be on its western bank.

Winding their way down the narrow
mountain road they see another wagon approaching. Malinda finds a
wide enough place to pull her wagons over to allow the folks coming
up the hill to pass. Once the uphill travelers are beside Malinda
the driver stops, “You folks gonna try fer the South Caroline side?
Sorry to tell you this, but theys been having the most God-awful
rain in these parts for the past weeks or so. The ferry is there
all right, but the ferryman he done got swept away and they figure
he’s drowned. Where’s you folks headed?”

“
We’re trying to get to
Scarlettsville, but you have dampened our hopes with your sad
news.”

“
Well now,” says he,
“Scarlettsville huh? About two miles farther down this trail y’all
will come to a fork in the road, the left’en carries you to the
ferry, don’t go that away, but the right’en will take you about ten
miles down the river where’s there’s a place you can ford over to
the other side. The waters are not more’en three or four feet deep
and when y’all comes out on yonder side you’ll be no more that a
week’s travel into Scarlettsville. Jest be careful of deserters,
and Yankees, they’ll take all your vittles and sech. Jest, watch
out and good luck to y’all.” He slapped his reins against his
mule’s flanks, “Gitta up there”, and he was gone.

“
Law a mighty, Mizz
Malinda do you reckon he’s tellin’ us the truth?”

“
Well, I don’t know Sary,
but why would someone just tell us a big fat lie for no reason. No,
I think that the man was honest – we’re going down that right-hand
fork when we get there.”