"I can't go on," stammered Rose. She brought her paddle inside the canoe and wearily looked back at Cooper. "We've been going for hours. I can barely move my arms anymore."
"Just a little longer,' said Cooper, trying to encourage her to keep going.
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Captain, I can't. I need to rest. Besides, I have to check on my husband's wounds."
Cooper could see she was exhausted. He looked along the riverbank, trying to find a secluded spot. When he eyed a willow tree with its long branches hanging low into the water, he paddled toward it. Like a thick green blanket, the branches of the tree hid them from view. "We'll put in there and rest for an hour."
"Thanks," said Rose.
Hawkins' canoe joined them under the curtain of branches. "What's going on, sir?' asked Hawkins.
"Mrs. Melancon needs to check on her husband and I thought we could all use a short break," replied Cooper as he helped carry the pastor out of the canoe and onto the dry ground.
Hawkins jumped out of his boat and pulled the front end up onto the shoreline. He said to Joe, "I'll take first watch. Put your head down. You look like you could use a nap."
Joe nodded and climbed out of the canoe to find a spot to sleep on.
Cooper took a step back to let Rose examine her husband. "How's it look?" he asked.
"Not too bad," she replied. "The cauterizing worked. I don't see any fresh bleeding. But he needs clean water to wash out his wound and a warm bed to rest in."
"Soon enough," Cooper said, patting Rose on the shoulder.
With their companions occupied, Cooper and Hawkins took a seat. Both men were tired and sore but would never say so in earshot of the others in the group.
"All of these little rivers look alike to me," said Cooper. "We could be going in circles for all I know."
"We're not," said Hawkins.
"I like your optimism. Care to tell me how you know we're not going in circles?"
Hawkins smiled. "The North Star. It's been on our left for the past few hours. "We're heading due east. Hopefully toward the Mississippi."
"I hadn't thought of that."
"When I was young I was taught how to find the North Star in the night sky. My father told me if I followed the North Star it would lead me to freedom. When I ran away from my master, that's how I made it to all the way to Kansas. That and a hell of a lot of luck."
"One day, when this is all over, you'll have to tell me all about your days on the run. I've only heard snippets of your story, I want to hear the whole thing."
Behind them, Joe began to snore loud enough to startle a passing possum carrying her children on her back.
"How long before dawn?" asked Cooper.
"I'd say an hour, maybe less."
"When the sun comes up, we're going to be sitting ducks for Taylor and his bandits. They outnumber us and they're fresh. Once they spot us, it won't take them long to catch up with us."
"I know. Without Francis to help out, we're really in a bind."
Cooper turned his head and looked up at the slender branches of the tree. An idea flashed in his mind. "Sergeant, do you still have your knife?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, with things the way they are, we may not be able to outrun them, but I'm fairly sure we can slow them down."
Hawkins grinned. "What are you thinking, Captain?"
"Let's get to work. It's time to repay Taylor and his thugs in spades for what he's done to us."
Cooper stood up. "We don't have much in the way of building materials, so we'll have to use the branches and the bark of this tree to make our traps with."
Hawkins got the idea and nodded. Both men knew it would be a race to do what they wanted to before Taylor and his men found them.
The gurgling noise coming from Taylor's stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten in hours. They had brought some dried meat with them, but his mouth salivated for the taste of fresh flesh. In the cold light of a new day, he found himself growing anxious. If the two soldiers got away, he knew they would send for reinforcements from New Orleans and he would become a wanted man. The Yankees would flush him from his lair and hunt him down until they had killed or captured him, which meant the same thing to him. Death by a bullet or the hangman's rope was his future if he didn't stop his escaped prisoners.
"Colonel, over there," called out Red in the lead boat, pointing at long streaks of disturbed dirt on the riverbank with his paddle.
Taylor spotted the telltale signs of canoes which had been dragged out of the water next to a tall willow tree. His heart began to race. Perhaps they had caught them sleeping. In less than a minute, all of his troubles could be behind him. He drew his pistol and pulled back on the hammer.
Moses, who had been sleeping on the bottom of the canoe, sat up and rubbed the sleep from his tired eyes. "What's going on, Colonel?"
"We're gonna kill some Yankee sons of bitches, that's what," replied Taylor, with an evil glint in his eyes.
With his Bible in his hand, Moses smiled. "Lord, watch over us while we smite the wicked sinners you have led us to."
Red slid his paddle into the water and pulled back. He was less than a couple of strokes from shore but failed to see a slender rope made from woven bark an inch above the waterline. In the blink of an eye, the front of his canoe hit the line and triggered a concealed booby trap hidden in the mist coming off the river. Before Red could duck, a branch of the willow tree, pulled taut, was released. It swung out and struck Red in the chest sending him flying out of his boat. Tiny, the other man in the canoe with him, lost his balance and spilled out into the cold, murky water.
Taylor watched in anger as the men on the first boat tumbled into the water. "For God's sake, steer us away from that tree," he yelled at Blondie, who was sitting at the front of their canoe. No sooner had Taylor spoken when he heard Red cry out in pain. He looked over and saw his compatriot holding his hand. There was a sharpened stick halfway through his hand. Blood from the wound ran down the injured man's arm. Not only had Red set off a trap but had the misfortune to stumble onto a row of sticks buried in the sand.
"Watch out!" screamed Blondie as a small wooden log covered in spikes flew out of the dark, missing Tiny's head by inches. Tied to a rope, the ball swung back toward the willow tree before getting caught up in its branches.
"Where the hell did that come from?" asked Moses, cowering at the bottom of the boat with his Bible over his head.
"There must have been another wire somewhere in the water which was set off by those two idiots thrashing about," said Taylor. He clenched his jaw until it hurt. Taylor was furious at his companions' stupidity. He shook his head when he saw Red and Tiny standing in the water, afraid to move a muscle. "You two get back in your canoe and paddle to the far shore. We'll stop there to eat and see to your injuries. For God's sake, you two, keep a sharp eye out for any more traps."
Taylor was the first man onshore. He barked at his comrades to get out of the water before any more bad luck struck them. Taylor noticed Red was favoring his right side. He put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "How are you feeling?"
"Sorry, Colonel, but I think I broke a couple of ribs when that tree branch hit me."
"How's your hand?"
Red held up his bloody hand. "Them damned Yankees left some sharpened spikes in the water. I didn't see 'em until I placed my hand over one."
With a wave of his hand, Taylor called the Fat Man, who had been a veterinary sergeant during the war, to his side. "Look after him."
"Will do, Colonel," responded the Fat Man as he led Red over to a stump so he could clean and dress the injured man's wounds.
"Take a seat, Colonel, and have some breakfast," said Blondie, handing Taylor a piece of smoked meat. It was the only food they had with them. Once they caught and butchered the five people they were chasing, their stock of prepared food would be more than sufficient to last them until the end of the month.
"Thanks," said Taylor as he took a big bite of meat before sitting dow
n on the ground.
"I can see in your eyes that you're worried we won't catch 'em. I'm right, aren't I?"
Taylor nodded. His mouth was too full to answer the question.
"Don't fret. We'll catch up with them later today."
"How can you be so sure?" Taylor asked between chews.
"You forget, I lived out here as a child. I know this bayou better than anyone I know. The river we're following comes out into the Mississippi. Those people are still a long way from home. They're tired and we're not. With the current behind us, we'll make up any time lost sitting here on our backsides. Trust me, Colonel, we'll be home for supper and I'm looking forward to a pie made from that preacher's wife's innards."
Right away, Taylor's mouth watered at the thought of eating her kidneys and her heart in a pie with gravy and biscuits. He closed his eyes and smiled. Supper couldn't come quick enough for him.
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