Timecachers (58 page)

Benjamin, who had been listening silently throughout the exchange, caught their attention with a shuffle of his feet. “Jimmy can find some comfort in knowing he has many brothers who will not allow his wound to fester,” he said with a meaningful glance at Jimmy. “We respect the laws of the whites, even when we are not given the benefit of them. Fortunately, he has another avenue for pursuit of justice. It is true that in the past honor would have demanded that Jimmy impose his own justice, but the Cherokee Nation has adopted a set of laws very much like the legal system of the whites. Because the transgression against his family occurred within the Cherokee Nation, this is one time being a Cherokee is to his advantage. It may take time for us to recover from this upheaval, but the crimes will not be forgotten.”

Benjamin’s reminder of the Cherokee legal system seemed to provide some relief to Jimmy, slightly softening the hardened glare in his eyes. Adam remembered that there had been many attempts to define and clarify the legal jurisdiction of crimes committed within the boundaries of a sovereign nation inside the United States, and in fact were still being argued in his own time.

When Adam looked at Rebecca, the monumental effort she was putting into her smile, unable to completely hide her pain, incensed his own wrath. He wanted Jimmy and Rebecca to know that despite his plea to Jimmy for non-violence, he also was galled by the criminal actions against them. “I hope you will also both remember,” he said, “that although I may not have any influence over the white law enforcement, I will support you however I can within the law to see you find justice. While that may not be much, I give you my word that I also will not forget the injuries inflicted on my good friends.”

“Certainly we know that, Adam,” said Rebecca. “We know you as a true friend, and that assuages our spirits. I believe that the human heart has only so much room for love and hate—both cannot reside in the same place within us. Your friendship and love will help to displace the bad feelings in our hearts, and speed our healing process greatly.”

Imposing justice through the Cherokee Nation may be just as futile as through the white courts. But if it gave Jimmy hope, it might possibly keep him from taking the law into his own hands, at least for now. He had a good chance to get his life back on track and begin to rebuild it in the western territory, if he could set aside his anger and desire for revenge, and focus on his prospects. He would need to rediscover the enthusiasm he had shown Adam when they first met.

Adam recalled his earlier conversation with Alice, questioning the value of their presence at the fort, and came to the conclusion that she was right. It would be beneficial to engage Jimmy in conversations about the things he loved; his growing family foremost, as well as agriculture, farm modernization, and automation. He could offer him insights to the future better than anyone else, and keep his entrepreneurial dreams alive. For the moment, it was enough that they could rebuild their friendship.

No one spoke for several moments. Adam was unused to verbalizing such strong emotions and was a little uncomfortable speaking about such personal feelings. Conversations in his modern world were subdued, and he had become accustomed to keeping his feelings repressed. He was glad Jimmy and Rebecca did not have such inhibitions, and it was a relief to know he still had Jimmy’s friendship. The openness of their emotions increased his fondness for them; he felt as close to them as he did to the members of his own family. Still, he was relieved when Jimmy shifted the conversation to a less emotional tone.

“I believe what will assuage my spirit most of all would be a decent meal. The provisions here are lacking.”

“Leave it to Jimmy to relate everything to his stomach. Nothing can affect his appetite for long!” said Rebecca, getting a chuckle from them all.

“I agree with him though,” said Benjamin. “The vittles we get here are far from what us farm boys with healthy appetites are used to. And a good meal will help you both recover. Catherine is planning to put together something for us. If anyone can turn meager rations into a banquet, she can.”

“I should go and help her,” said Rebecca, stifling a groan as she moved to rise.

“No,” said Benjamin. “She gave strict orders that you were to remain at rest.” Rebecca settled back with a frustrated sigh, even though the pain of her aching muscles was obvious. “Don’t worry; she has plenty of help with Billy, Alice, and Constance. I will go to her as well and see how Sally is doing. We will all return shortly, with nourishment for everyone,” he said over his shoulder as he strode off.

“Constance?” asked Jimmy.

“Constance is the wife of Captain Martin. She wanted to come here with us and offer assistance to those who may need it,” replied Adam.

“And to spy for the military?” Jimmy scowled.

“That’s not very likely. She has a dim view of what’s going on, and she truly wishes to be supportive of the families who have been brought here. Besides, why would she need to spy for them? You are under their roof—not much you could do that the military isn’t going to know about.”

“Of course you are right, Adam. It is difficult for me not to let my ill feelings about what is being done to us cloud my judgment of individuals.”

“Understandably,” said Adam. In truth, Adam thought Jimmy’s effort to restrain his anger was immense. He made an attempt to pacify Jimmy’s mood with a lighthearted comment. “She will at least be able to bring in some better food. That alone should warrant you giving her a chance,” he grinned.

“Indeed, it does,” he agreed, returning Adam’s smile.

Chapter forty-eight

F
rom their well-concealed surveillance point, Guwaya, Yonah, Tom, and Sal were in perfect position to observe any comings and goings through the main gate of Fort Cummings. John Carter had agreed to remain behind at Guwaya’s cave, conceding that it was best for at least one adult male to stay with the rest of the family, despite Woyi’s insistence that it was an unnecessary precaution.

They had traveled in darkness, arriving before dawn and quietly placing themselves at a wooded spot about a hundred yards from the gate. Low-lying clouds had settled into the valley during the night, providing additional cover. Upon their arrival the fort was dark and silent, giving no indication of the multitude of families incarcerated within. As the rising sun warmed the earth, the fog gradually dispersed and their view of the still-sleeping fort improved, even though as yet there was little to see. The four men battled drowsiness, lulled by the soft twittering of early morning birds. At sunrise they were startled to alertness by the blare of a bugle sounding reveille, calling the sleeping troops to morning roll call as the flag was jerkily raised over the fort. The morning’s activity steadily increased after the call to colors concluded, as visitors and traders began arriving at the fort’s open gate.

“They do not seem to be challenging the traders,” whispered Guwaya. “No one has been refused admittance, or even questioned very much before they are allowed to enter.”

“They are likely to be more concerned with the people who are leaving than those who are entering,” said Yonah. “There must be a secondary gate within the fort for entrance to the stockade. It would be helpful if we knew what occurred there.”

“The rear wall of the fort is still in the long shadows of morning,” said Guwaya. “I will make my way there to see if I can hear what is going on inside.” He crept stealthily to the rear of the fort, moving as quietly as mist through the trees, until he disappeared from view.

Yonah whispered a warning to Tom and Sal. “Fort Cummings is manned by the Georgia Guard and local volunteers under the command of Captain Sam Farriss. Many of the traders will be recognized as local merchants. Some will even be neighbors of the soldiers. As strangers, you two can expect more scrutiny.”

“Our story will be that we are new settlers who only recently came to the area,” said Tom. “If questioned, we’ll say that we usually keep to ourselves and have been busy with the clearing of fields and construction of our farm buildings. But we couldn’t resist taking a break to do some trading and take advantage of the higher prices we can get from the Indians. That should be believable, since most of our goods are from Guwaya’s food supply, things from his own farm.”

Yonah snorted in agreement. “They will certainly believe you want to take advantage of their prisoners.”

The traders they observed carried a variety of goods, some with wagonloads of supplies and others carrying only a small sack. It appeared that many of them were just as Tom described; local farmers who were bringing their goods and produce to sell to the fort’s detainees. The opportunity to turn their labor into cash was too tempting to ignore. Many had the same idea, and they arrived in droves. If the traders were expecting to sell at inflated prices, the number of competing merchants should help to keep their prices reasonably fair.

A gentle rustle of leaves came from the bushes next to Tom. He was stunned to see Guwaya squatting next to him, having returned as soundlessly as he left.

“It is as we expected,” said Guwaya. “There is an inner stockade where the people are being held. I was able to speak to a Tsalagi man within the stockade, who told me that the inner gate is guarded, but it also remains open to allow access for the many traders. The soldiers are not challenging any of them, except those who have brought whiskey to sell. Those are being turned away for fear that the intoxicating drink may lead to an unmanageable situation inside the stockade. All others are freely admitted.

“The man did not know Ahni. He said there were over four hundred people being held here and most keep to themselves. Understandably, as the man himself sounded intensely depressed.

“I confided to him that someone would be entering the fort as a trader to get a message to my mother. He said that he would do what he could to locate Ahni and help you find her.”

“We better hope the dude’s trustworthy, then,” said Sal. “How do you know you weren’t talking to one of the guards?”

“Not likely,” Guwaya answered, “as we were speaking in Tsalagi.”

“Your most difficult task will be finding Ahni,” said Yonah. “Having someone on the inside will be most beneficial, especially one who can speak Tsalagi. Ahni herself only speaks a little bit of English, so this man will help you to communicate with her. Guwaya, how will he recognize our messengers?”

“I have described them to him and he will watch for them. His name is Jason Springwater.”

“What does he look like?” asked Sal.

“I could not see him through the fort wall, but I am certain he looks like an Indian.”

“Real helpful, dude. That narrows it down to only four hundred possibilities. How did you describe us? A couple of white guys?”

“A couple of white guys, one with a cantankerous attitude,” Guwaya answered wryly. “He will recognize you by the red smudges on your faces.”

“What red smudges?” asked Sal.

Instead of answering, Guwaya grabbed a handful of bright red clay from the ground and deftly smeared it across Sal’s forehead.

“Hey, what the heck!” cried Sal, vainly attempting to wipe the sticky red dirt from his face. A sharp pain reminded him of the gash on his forehead he had sustained from fish-breath’s knife handle.

“It will make you to look like a true Georgia dirt farmer,” said Guwaya. “And it will help to hide your wounds from the soldiers, who may ask you to explain them. You need some more on your cheeks,” he said, reaching to smear some more dirt on Sal’s face.

Sal dodged the second helping, blocking his face with his arms. “Back off, dude. I’ll do my own makeup if you don’t mind.”

“There’s that cantankerous attitude you mentioned,” laughed Tom. “I’ll do my own as well, thank you.”

Once they were all in agreement that the smears of red were adequate, Yonah insisted they go over their plan again. “Remember,” Yonah said, “all you need to do is make contact with Ahni and let her know it is our intention to free her. Make a few mental notes of the layout of the stockade and get out. No heroics. Once you are safely back here with us we can make further plans on how to proceed.”

Satisfied that they were as ready as they could be, he gave them a final stern warning to take no unnecessary chances and to keep their dialogues with the militia men amicable. He directed the latter warning directly to Sal, who responded with a shrug and a wide-eyed look of innocence.

Without further comment, Sal and Tom gathered their sacks of trade items, nodded to Yonah and Guwaya, and made their way back through the woods to a bend in the road leading to the main gate. It would appear to anyone watching that they had just arrived. The number of people on the road had already begun to dwindle; the most ambitious traders had arrived early.

The two soldiers standing guard scrutinized them as they approached the gate, causing Tom a twinge of nervousness. The guards hardly looked like soldiers; in their civilian clothes they appeared more like bouncers collecting the cover charge at a night club, if not for the weapons they held. Tom overheard one of the men remark “Lookee at these two bumpkins” to the other, who responded with a snort. Tom instinctively glanced at Sal, searching for any sign of Sal’s usual temper. Sal appeared not to have taken any notice of the comment.

“We came to sell a few goods,” said Tom to the two guards.

“You and everyone else in the county,” the man answered. “Except most of the rest of ‘em are already here.” To Tom’s great relief, he motioned with a flick of his head that they should enter the fort. They strutted forward without hesitation, passing through the gate and out of the view of Yonah and Guwaya who were watching them from the woods.