by Sable Hunter
“I’m sorry if we messed things up for you.”
“Pshaw. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just being a grumpy old lady. Houses are meant to be lived in.”
At Myra’s mention of a house, Journey couldn’t resist sharing something with her aunt. “Reno is going to build a cabin for me. Before we leave, I’m going to download some house plans just to get ideas. Isn’t that exciting?”
“I just hate that I won’t be able to share any of this with you. You’ll have a new home. Children. I’ll miss it all.”
Her sadness worried Journey. “There has to be some way.” She thought for a moment. “We have all of these records from the past. What if I leave a diary and some pictures for you to find? We can pick out a location together, a place where you can go and dig them up.”
Myra frowned. “But how? The past is already the past. It would have to be already buried…”
Journey shook her head. “I know it’s confusing, but I think it’s possible. Just let me be gone for a week or two, then go check. I promise to send you enough information and pictures that you’ll feel you were there for it all.”
“Oh, my Journey, I do love you so.”
While Myra held her and cried, Journey filed away the memory to be cherished at a later date.
* * *
As they began their journey, Reno was all smiles. “The last time I made the trip from Knoxville to Texas was in 1865. Memories of the war were so fresh that every night when I went to sleep, I’d dream of cannon fire. I rode a horse partway and walked the rest. The whole country was raw and unsettled. People didn’t really know who to trust. I mean, just because two men signed a peace treaty in Appomattox, didn’t mean everyone else could forget they’d been at odds just weeks before. Everything was scarce – food, livestock, money – the temperament of people reminded me of a powder keg about to blow.”
“I can imagine. Myra said her mother called anyone who lived north of Oklahoma a damn Yankee. And that was just a little more than fifty years ago.”
He nodded, his arm resting on the bottom of the passenger window. “I’m looking forward to seeing how things have changed, especially around the area I grew up.”
“We’ll visit anyplace you say. Just let me know.”
Their first stop was the library at the university. Reno was agog to see the campus and learn how many students attended. “Fifty-thousand students with fifty different countries represented. It’s truly a microcosm of the world.” She showed him the beautiful tower that sat in the center of campus. “The whole structure is lit with burnt orange lights each time they win a sports game.” She also shared a sadness about the tower. “In 1966, a student named Whitman climbed the tower with a gun and killed 14 people and wounded 31 others.”
“Why did he do that?”
“He was disturbed. He’d killed his mother and wife the night before. I think he had gambling debts, bad grades, plus he’d lost his scholarship. Friends knew he had violent tendencies, but that was before there was such a push for people to get therapy. After his death, they discovered he had a brain tumor. Whether or not his medical condition contributed to the breakdown, no one knows. Even more tragic than the senseless deaths stemming from Whitman’s attack, this shooting became the first of many. It was like an idea was introduced into the country’s mentality and nuts started playing copycat. I think I read where there’s been, on average, about one school shooting per month for the last twenty years.”
“Hell. I read a few articles on your kindle about gun control. It’s quite a controversial subject these days.”
“Especially for a Texan. Guns are a part of our heritage. Yet, there are times when their accessibility contributes to senseless death.”
“Times haven’t changed,” Reno said solemnly. “Look at what Kinsella is doing. Violence is rampant. Yet, a gun kept me alive. In war time and in peace time. We’d have starved to death without our guns.”
“I know, it’s a topic that can be debated endlessly.”
When she pulled into the parking lot at the library, Reno opened his door. “I’ll hurry in and get the book so you can rest in the shade. Where do I go?”
“Hold up. You’ll need me, Reno. It’s not like you have a library card. Or a driver’s license. Or a social security card.”
Reno laughed. “What are you saying?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “I’m saying you’re undocumented in the weirdest way and they won’t let you check out a book without proper identification.”
“When I come back from the past, I’ll have to see if I can remedy that problem.”
A few minutes later, they returned with a copy of the book they’d requested, plus several more the librarian recommended. Immediately, Reno started thumbing through one before Journey could pull into the street. “Okay, I’m going to take 35 north to Dallas. There, we’ll catch Interstate 30 east.”
“Whatever you think, love. I’ll be riding shotgun and reading. Just let me know if we pass something interesting.”
“All right.” Journey wasn’t sure what he might consider interesting, but she’d give it a shot. “I just hope reading doesn’t make you carsick,” she muttered to herself.
As they left downtown, Journey would glance at him periodically. Her heart warmed to see his lips moving as he read. God, she loved him. He was so sweet. Between Round Rock and Georgetown, she tapped the glass of her window. “Over there is Inner-space Caverns. They were discovered in 1963 when the interstate was being built. Deep inside, they found a lot of fossils, including the skeletons of a baby mammoth, a giant sloth, and a sabre-tooth tiger. The paleontologists think some of the animals fell through a well-like opening or got stuck in a muddy sinkhole. Relics from the past are everywhere if one will just open their eyes.”
Reno found a double meaning in her words. As his eyes scanned the cars and trucks, traveling like ants on the maze of highway in front of him, he wondered if anyone else in one of those vehicles walked in his boots. “It’s something to think about. Once, when I was a child, I found something odd in the mud near the river.” He held out his palm. “It was a tooth as big as my hand. I saved it and Clay’s uncle told me he thought it was a shark’s tooth. I didn’t see how it could be. The shark sporting that tooth would’ve been monstrous. Later, I learned it was true. They called it something…I can’t remember.”
“Megalodon. I’ve always been fascinated by them.”
“Right. Clay’s uncle, his name was Carson Thomas, taught me many things. He loaned me all the books I could read.”
“How kind. Did you go to school or did Sojourner teach you at home?”
“No. Mother was wise, but she wasn’t educated. For the most part, Cole taught me to read. You see, we attended a small school, one where all the grades met together. When I was in my second year our regular teacher left, and a new teacher arrived. He took one look at me and sent me home.”
“Why?”
He rubbed his finger across the back of his hand, then tugged at a lock of his hair. “I didn’t fit in.”
“Damn. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I turned out fine.” He winked at her.
“You sure as hell did.” Anger washed over her at the way he’d been treated.
“Thank you, love.” He tapped the book. “Talk about fascinating, I just found an account of a Dallas Herald newspaper article dated July 25, 1858. It says that Edward Burleson, Jr., a Texas Ranger, leaked the name of a prominent individual who was known to have used arrows to kill livestock so Indians might be blamed.”
“Really? What’s his name?”
“John Taylor.”
“Hmmm. Taylor is a common name in this area. Always has been.” She indicated a sign ahead that proclaimed an exit to a town of the same name. Taylor…16 miles.
“Damn. There was a Taylor with Kinsella that night too. A Taylor and a Roberts.”
“They could be related.”
“Maybe. Still, what chance is it that
this Taylor is connected to Kinsella? The newspaper article was written over ten years ago.”
His counting the years as if he were still in the past made her smile. “There might be a connection. Keep looking.”
He didn’t continue reading right away. As they neared the city limits of Waco, he stared hard at the surrounding countryside. “Just think, this was where I would’ve caught the stagecoach to go help Cole.”
She held her hand out to him and he took it. “You’ll catch that stagecoach soon enough.”
Continuing north, they made good time until they reached the outskirts of Dallas and the traffic slowed them down. Reno took the opportunity to read her another segment he’d found in the book. “It says here that Taylor is an Indian fighter, a former Confederate officer, and a rancher.” When he turned one more page, he swore, “Hell’s bells. I know this man.”
“What?” This shocked Journey so much that she veered out of her lane and onto the rough right-of-way.
“Here’s a picture of him in his uniform.” He held it up for her to see. “John R. Taylor. Oh, yea, I remember this snake. Our paths crossed a couple of times. He evicted Jericho and me from the mess tent. Said we had no business eating with decent folk.”
“What a jerk.”
“It says here that in 1841, he was charged as an accomplice in the murder of an Indian trader. He escaped justice by fleeing across the Red River into Texas.” He read a bit, then laughed. “Oh, hell. In 1850 he was elected to the Texas state legislature and two years after that he was admitted to the bar.”
“I guess it’s safe to say their standards weren’t very high.”
Reno turned another page or two. “And in 1856, he was appointed as an Indian agent.”
“What was the job of an Indian agent?”
“Basically, an ambassador between the tribes and the US Bureau of Indian Affairs.”
Journey was so into what Reno was saying that she missed her turn-off. “Crap. Oh, well, I’ll just take the next exit.”
“Okay. Okay. Get this. Taylor’s direct supervisor, a man named Neigh, fired him in 1858 after Taylor accused the reservation Comanches of aiding rogue warriors in their attacks on settlers. In the years following, he traveled around pushing hatred of the Indians and campaigning to get his ex-boss, Neigh, replaced. Taylor even organized his own vigilante army of over a thousand men called the Jacksonville Rangers.”
“Well, there you go.”
“It says Taylor and his men would ride onto the reserves and kill any Indian accused of a crime against a white man, imagined or not. So, Neigh made a rare decision and moved the Indians from Texas to Oklahoma for their own protection.”
“All of this happened before the war?”
“Yea, this is all news to me. I was still in Tennessee when this happened.” He turned a couple of pages. “I wonder if he could still be in the area. Surely King or one of the others would’ve mentioned him if they knew he was around.” Frustrated, he rubbed his face. “I’m probably barking up the wrong tree.”
“Rest your eyes for a few miles, you don’t want to get a headache.”
He followed her advice, relaxing and enjoying the view. After turning onto the east-west interstate, Journey pointed out a vast amusement park. “That colorful area is Six Flags Over Texas. My parents took me there a few times when I was younger. The tall, winding track you can see is a rollercoaster. I loved to ride it with my dad. I’d hold my arms in the air and scream as the cars would careen down the steep grade of the track.”
“I’d love to ride one someday,” he mused, pondering the future.
“Look over there at that huge structure. That’s the AT&T Stadium where the Dallas Cowboys play.” Journey told him all she could about professional football, but that wasn’t saying much.
“I watched a clip on the news about salary negotiations. In some ways the game is like rugby. I couldn’t believe how much those athletes are paid. I didn’t know there was that much money in the world.”
“Some people believe they’re paid too much, especially compared to what a schoolteacher earns and they’re responsible for molding the youth of tomorrow.”
Once they were out of the sprawling urban area, Reno read until they neared the Texas-Arkansas line. “I remember when I came to Texas for the first time. We crossed over from Louisiana, a little farther south. I almost lost my leg to an alligator when I was trying to fill up my canteen from the bank of the Sabine River. Now, that was an experience.”
“I bet it was. Parts of East Texas are still wilderness.”
“I remember this one soldier brought his wife along, poor woman.” He chuckled at the memory. “Better I should say, poor man. They had come across from Monroe in the north part of Louisiana and she hated East Texas at first sight. She declared the place to be headquarters for ticks, redbugs, fleas by the millions, and snakes gliding through the grass by the hundreds. Her unlucky husband could not do enough for her. She refused to sleep next to him on his army blanket and demanded he build her a little treehouse every time they camped for the night. One evening after she’d been particularly shrewish, the wife crawled up onto this little ledge he’d built for her in a big oak, all padded with piles of soft pine straw. The rest of us were on the ground, of course. We had just about drifted off to sleep when she started hollering and squawking and flailing around. Her husband was trying to get to her when she just fell right out of the tree on top of him. When he finally managed to figure out what was wrong, he found a six-foot black snake draped around her neck. The serpent had fallen down on her from an upper branch while she’d slept.”
“Ick! Can you imagine? It’s a wonder she didn’t get bit!”
“Yea, it’s a wonder.” Tilting his head, he gazed at her shrewdly. “You do realize, Miss Stanton, that should you return with me to my time, you’ll have to face a few hardships. I’ll do everything in my power to make your life easy, but you won’t have all of these luxuries you take for granted in this life.”
Journey lifted her chin and pursed her lips. “We’ve talked about this – I don’t need luxury. I certainly don’t love ticks or fleas, but I could endure them. Now, snakes are a different story. Be we in this time or yours - you, as my protector, must make a solemn promise to go above and beyond the call of duty to keep any and all snakes as far away from my person as possible.”
“That’s quite a demand. Would you like to make it a part of our wedding vows? To love, honor, and keep snakes away?”
Any mention of their future marriage thrilled her to the core. “Yes, I would like that to be included. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome and I’m starving. Can we stop to get something to eat?”
Reno’s request echoed her own sentiment. “I’m hungry too, but we’ve made great time. What would you like to eat?” She began naming off fast food served by the restaurants listed on the roadside signs. “Fried chicken, burgers, catfish.”
“Catfish sounds good to me. How about you?”
“Perfect.” She took the next exit and pulled into a rustic establishment. Soon they were chowing down on fried fillets, French fries, and hushpuppies. Journey couldn’t eat all that was on her plate, but Reno managed to eat his and what was left of hers.
Once they were on the road again, he delved back into the history book. Of course, to him – it wasn’t history. Some of what he read hadn’t even happened yet. As she set a course for Little Rock, he read more about the history of Central Texas. Journey found she didn’t mind the quiet. As long as she was with Reno, she was content.
It wasn’t too far down the road, before the silence was broken.
“What a bastard. Listen to this. The old ass published his own newspaper in Weatherford, TX called The White Man. Its sole purpose was to whip up venom against the Indians.”
“Wow. He didn’t even try hide his hatred, did he?”
“There’s more. He was appointed lieutenant colonel over the Second Texas Mounted Rifles and assigned to guard a
chain of forts stretching out west. He occupied the Mesilla Valley in the territory of Arizona and proclaimed himself military governor.”
“Talk about ballsy.”
“I agree.” Her observation made Reno laugh, then he went right back to reading. “The editor of the only newspaper in the Arizona territory dared to question Taylor’s methods and was challenged to a fight. Taylor injured him to such a degree that he died a few days later. Still obsessed with the Indians, he sent a letter to one of his subordinates to exterminate the Apaches. When the confederate president, Jefferson Davis, got wind of this order, he stripped Taylor of his command and rank. In 1863, he fought at the battle of Galveston as a private. At the same time, however, he won an election to the Second Confederate Congress.”
“Taylor was a busy man.”
“Yea, but he was in Arizona. Not Texas. I need to find more information on this ass.” He put that book down to pick up the next one.
The deeper they drove into Arkansas, the higher the hills became. Soon, they could see the foothills of the Ozark mountain range. “Do you want to find a motel in Little Rock or try to make it on to Memphis?”
“Are you tired? I wish I could drive for you.”
“I need to stop and stretch, but I’m fine,” Journey told him.
“Okay. If you feel up to it, I’d rather continue on to Memphis.”
“No problem.” She knew he was anxious. In a few miles, Journey found a place to fill up the gas tank. She showed Reno how it was done. While he pumped the gas, she went inside to use the restroom. When she came out, he headed in to do the same. “I’ll just walk around a bit,” she told him.
“Don’t go far. And be careful.” He glanced around at the almost empty parking lot. “Stay in the well-lit areas.”
“Yes, dear.” She gave him a wink while he dashed inside. Strolling around, she saw something odd at the very edge of the concrete. Too curious to let it go, she ventured over. “What the…” Coming near, she saw a plastic bag moving ever so slightly. “Oh, no.” Bending down, she untied the handle to find two small kittens. “Idiots,” she hissed the word. “Whoever put you in this bag should rot in hell.” Picking up the sack and its small inhabitants, Journey looked around, considering what she should do.
