“Can I go and see?” Little John pleaded, his face and eyes bright with excitement.
“Okay. We’ll be right behind you. Be careful,” Stephen said, “don’t get too close till we know for sure it’s dead.”
Little John took off, running fast, rocks and pine needles crunching beneath him with each stride.
His nephew’s first hunt. He remembered his first hunt, and being equally excited.
A log lay in Little John’s path. The boy jumped it as Stephen turned back to Sam.
“Great shot Sam. We’ll chew on fresh meat tonight,” Stephen said, walking through the powder’s lingering smoke to stand next to his brother who was already reloading.
“And maybe sip on some of that good wine Edward sent,” Sam said with relish.
The prospect of a good meal made Stephen’s stomach growl. They had left without eating breakfast.
“I’ll find a branch to carry her back,” Sam said.
Where’s Little John?” he asked.
Sam glanced up. “He was just there.” He pointed towards the doe.
He quickly scanned the wooded area, finding nothing. “He’s not now!” Stephen exclaimed and started to run.
Sam trailed just behind him, finishing reloading as he ran.
“Little John. John,” Stephen yelled repeatedly as he ran.
“Be quiet, we’ll see if we can hear him,” Sam said, stopping.
They both listened carefully for several long moments, but the woods stood silent, holding on to its secret.
“Little John, where are you?” Sam finally called out as loudly as he could and they both resumed running.
“Stephen, stop!” Sam yelled as he came to a halt.
He stopped abruptly. “What is it?”
“Little John didn’t just disappear. He must have fallen through a crevice. Be careful, I’m told Virginia is riddled with caverns.”
“What if Indians were watching us and grabbed him, or a bear, God forbid?” he asked, mortified by either possibility.
“We would have heard a bear and there are no Indians here,” Sam replied.
“How do you know?”
“I just do. Call it instinct. Call it a sixth sense. Grab a branch. Poke the ground in front of you before you take a step.”
They both found sturdy branches to use and proceeded towards the doe more cautiously, about six feet apart. They called for Little John as they moved slowly forward, pausing every few feet to listen for sounds of the boy. But Stephen heard nothing; the only sound in the dense expanse of timber surrounding them was the beating of his own worried heart. The forest here smelled of both rotting and fresh wood, of both dead plants and blooming wildflowers, mingling together in a bittersweet potpourri of death and life.
“I’ve seen this kind of terrain before. A strong rain or a flood washes away the ground over a cavern and creates a natural trap. Pray it’s not too deep,” Sam said as they went forward.
“What if it is?”
Sam didn’t answer him.
CHAPTER 35
For several interminable minutes, the men searched without speaking, Stephen’s mind filling with dread. He repeatedly berated himself for letting something happen to Little John. Already, the familiar poison of guilt began to make him feel sick. His brother seemed to refuse to give into his alarm, maintaining a dark calmness. But Stephen’s mind began to fill with blinding panic. He fought to calm his nerves.
“Did you hear something?” Sam asked. They froze.
“It’s him. He’s crying,” Stephen answered. He moved cautiously towards the pitiful sound. “Little John,” he yelled as loudly as he could. He couldn’t tell exactly where the crying came from.
“We’re coming. Hang on boy,” Sam yelled.
The crying turned into loud sobs and they quickly found the opening in the earth on the other side of a fallen tree. Both men lay down on their stomachs to peer down. The opening was not large, but the sides of the hole seemed to go nearly straight down, pointing to complete blackness.
“I can’t see a damn thing. Can you?” Sam asked.
“No, it’s too dark down there. Little John, are you hurt?” He yelled into the narrow hole.
The sobbing slowed, but the boy didn’t speak.
Sam tried. “Little John, we’re both right here, just above you. You’re not alone. We’ll get you out. I promise.”
“Help…I fell,” Little John managed to whimper between sobs.
The two men could barely hear the boy.
Stephen asked again, “Are you injured? Yell, Little John, so we can hear you.”
“Yes, my arm…hurts…bad…real bad. It’s dark here. Get me out! Get me out!” the terrified child pleaded.
“Hang on. We’ll get you out. Don’t be scared Little John. Things like this happen to hunters. This makes you a real hunter now,” Sam said.
“What’ll we do? He sounds like he’s down there a good way. If one of us climbs down to get him, how do we get us out without a rope?”
Sam thought for a second. “Let’s see if any tree vines around here are strong enough to bear weight. While I look, see if you can figure out how long it needs to be.”
“Uncle Sam’s gone to find a strong vine to pull you out,” Stephen yelled down the hole. “Can you see me? Try to look up.”
After a moment, “A little bit.”
“Little John, how far away do I look? If you stacked horses on top of each other, how many horses would it take to reach me?”
“I don know. I don know.”
“Think hard Little John, how many would it take?” he pressed.
“Three big ones.”
He sounded weaker. They needed to get to the boy soon.
“Need at least 20 feet of vine,” Stephen yelled toward Sam, who continued to circle the bases of the nearby larger and older trees.
“None of these are stout enough to hold your weight without breaking,” Sam shouted. “And I don’t see any near long enough.”
“Keep looking,” he yelled.
Time lapsed slowly as Sam’s search broadened to trees further away, and Stephen’s dread mounted with each passing minute. The sky was growing darker as thick grey clouds rolled by. A storm was coming. They had to get Little John out soon or he might drown.
“This old elm has a vine we can use,” Sam finally yelled back.
Seconds later, he heard Sam’s hatchet severing the vine at the tree base. Then his brother yanked it, pulling with all his weight. The old vine had been growing up the huge trunk for years and refused to give up its embrace of the tree and its branches. Sam yanked harder. Still it didn’t budge. He watched as Sam began twisting the vine, tugging against it with every twist. He circled the tree, dragging the vine in both directions before he tried again. Sam ducked as the vine finally surrendered and fell heavily to the ground.
Sam ran towards Stephen, the vine trailing behind him. A good inch across, it would be strong enough, if it were long enough.
“You go down, you’re smaller,” Sam said. “Let’s test the length first. I’ll drop it down and see how close it gets to him. You’ll need to tie it around him and let me pull him out first.”
Sam leaned over the hole. “Little John, I’m going to lower this big vine now to see if it’s long enough to reach you.” He dropped one end into the cave. “Can you see the end of it?” he yelled down.
When Little John didn’t answer, Stephen tried. “How close is it Little John?”
Still no answer. “He’s passed out, probably from the pain,” Sam said.
“I’m going down now!” he said.
“Shed everything you can, except your pistol. You’ll need it if there’s a varmint or snakes.”
Stephen quickly removed his boots, hat, coat and waistcoat, and his powder horn, and other equipment he had on his person.
Sam sat on the ground behind the log. He pushed his legs up against the fallen tree trunk. He would use it for leverage to allow him to use both his arms an
d his legs and let his hips bear most of the weight. Sam nodded for him to go ahead.
He grabbed the vine and headed down into the cavern feet first, balancing against the sides with his legs. As the vine scraped against the earth at the top of the hole, dirt rained down into the cave, probably dropping on Little John. The narrow opening was barely wide enough for a grown man to squeeze through, but more than enough to swallow a small boy. As he slowly descended, his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light in the dark confined space.
“You had better be right next to him, or this vine’s not going to be long enough,” Sam yelled.
“I am. I’m here,” Stephen called back as he reached the boy’s side. He let go of the vine when his toes touched ground to give Sam a break from his weight. “But the vine’s not long enough to tie it around Little John. Can you find a longer vine?”
“We don’t have time, the storm’s getting closer and it took too long to find that one. I think I can pull you both out if you can get a good grip.”
As they suspected, Little John lay unconscious, his left arm protruding oddly at his side. He strained to see past his nephew. There was just enough light to see that they were both at the edge of a much deeper cavern. If he took even one step, he would be off the ledge.
Without warning, bats flew by him and he frantically flailed his arms around his head. He started to take a step away from the flapping swarm, but managed to stop himself just in time when he heard pieces of rock falling in front of him into the cavern’s depths. “Blind little bastards,” he swore.
Stephen took a deep breath after the bats flew up through the opening, carefully bent down, and gently picked Little John up. Then he reached up to grip the vine, dangling just above his shoulder. “I’ve got him, let me get a good grip,” he shouted. With his right arm, his strongest, he wrapped the vine securely around his forearm and hand. He wanted to wrap it around Little John too, but there wasn’t enough vine to spare. Instead, he balanced Little John on his left hip and arm. “All right, pull us up.”
He prayed Sam would be strong enough to pull them both up and, for once, he was glad he was the shortest of the five brothers and that Sam was both the tallest and strongest. Feeling the strain of their weight in his own right bicep, he hoped all his work clearing rocks off his land made his arm strong enough to maintain his grip on the makeshift rope until they made it to the opening.
He peered up. He could see daylight, a welcome sight in the oppressive dank atmosphere of the cave. He kept his gaze on the light as Sam slowly inched them up. Soon they were nearing the top.
Stephen tried to get a foothold where he could to take some of the weight off Sam. He worried about the vine breaking, but with Little John in his left arm and the vine in his right, he had no choice but to trust that it would hold together.
Then he felt the vine bounce and pieces of dirt and rotting wood began to fall. He heard Sam swear.
He shook his head, trying to get the debris out of his eyes. The boy hung precariously off his side as he struggled desperately to maintain his grip on both the vine and Little John.
Large chucks of earth cascaded onto them and the improvised rope slid more than a foot.
He nearly lost his grip on the vine. The skin of his right palm began peeling away. He ignored the throbbing burn in his hand. His shoulder was pulling apart. He clenched his teeth against the growing pain, knowing that Little John’s life lay in the balance and maybe his too. If they fell now, they would both likely crack their heads against the rocks even before they hit bottom.
“Are you all right?” Sam shouted.
“Yes, but hurry.”
“I’ll get you out. I swear.”
“What happened?” Stephen yelled up, trying to distract himself from the extreme discomfort in his right arm. How much could his shoulder take before it did pull apart?
“This rotten tree collapsed. I nearly got dragged in.”
“Sam, you can do this!”
Sam only grunted.
It seemed like an eternity before Stephen felt the edge of the cave’s opening against his shoulder.
Because a large section of the dirt at the opening had fallen into the cave, there was now enough room for both Stephen and Little John to pass through. With his left arm, he pushed Little John up onto solid ground, and then threw a leg over the opening.
Sam kept a tight grip until he was fully out.
Stephen knelt next to Little John as Sam collapsed on his back breathing rapidly.
“Is he… all right?” Sam asked, gasping for air as he wiped sweat off his face.
“I hope so. All I see wrong, besides scratches and bruises, is the arm. The bone didn’t break the skin. No lumps on his head.”
As he rubbed his sore shoulder, Stephen noticed Sam’s hands. His brother’s left fingers were nearly raw and large red patches covered both palms where the vine had scraped the skin away. Sam rolled his shoulders, but otherwise seemed to be okay.
“Get the arm set before he wakes up,” Sam said, regaining most of his breath.
Stephen gently manipulated the arm back into place while Sam cut a sturdy piece of bark out of a tree for a makeshift splint. Then Stephen used his own shirt to make a sling. Little John moaned during the procedure, but did not wake.
“Do you think we can get both the doe and Little John back?” he asked, wrapping his raw hand with part of his cravat, then gave the rest to Sam for his injured hands.
“If we take turns carrying Little John and we both drag the doe behind us, I think we can manage. We’ll do the skinning at camp. I’ll fetch her. You stay with the boy.”
Stephen looked down at Little John’s tear-stained dirty face. Please God, let him be without further injury. We can’t lose another child. It would crush all of us.
He choked back his emotions, the memory of his daughters still painful and fresh. He didn’t want John to ever feel the anguish of losing a child. It was a pain that, even when buried deep, would last forever.
CHAPTER 36
I never imagined it would be this far. I feel like we must have ridden around the world twice by now. But Sam tells us we are just two-thirds of the way there. I am bone weary and ache for the feel and quiet of a real bed. It would be so nice to sleep again without the constant sound of crickets or coyotes or other creatures of the night. Never will I take my bed for granted again. Or Stephen’s attentions in our bed.
I dreamt of them last night. A dream so real it woke me with tears falling from my eyes. But these tears were different somehow. I wiped my wet cheeks, but couldn’t wipe away the strange feeling in my heart. In the dream, I looked into the wagon and there they were, Amy and baby Mary playing together. I called out to them and they glanced right at me and smiled. Beautiful, joyful smiles on innocent faces. It thrilled me to the center of my heart. But when I climbed inside the wagon, they were gone. I called out to them, but they did not come back. I yelled out to them, but they did not come back. I screamed after them, but they did not come back. But I could still see their smiles. And they seemed so full of life. I can’t wait to share what I know was a vision with Stephen.
Jane put the journal away. Remember those big smiles she told herself. They were so happy. They just came to let me know that.
Jane decided she wanted Martha and Polly to learn every skill they could, especially those that would enable them to protect themselves and acquire food. One of their first lessons, fishing, was that very morning.
“That was the best trout I’ve ever eaten,” Jane declared, still picking the last tidbits of meat off the bones. “You girls are excellent fishermen and John a superb teacher.”
“Bear showed me how to clean them,” Polly said proudly.
“And I learned how to bait a hook—with a grasshopper!” Martha declared.
“And I’m so proud of both of you,” Jane said. She already knew Bear had shown her girls how to ready the fish for cooking based upon the fresh blotches on Polly’s dress, but said nothing. S
he figured a stain or two was a small price to pay for the skills they were learning. She ignored the dirty dress, focusing on her daughter’s happy face instead. Something in Polly’s face brought fresh pain to her insides. It was her daughter’s smile. She had seen the same smile in her dream. She closed her eyes to the hurt. Saw her daughters smiling again in her mind. They were happy, she reminded herself again. If she could just remember that, she believed it would help.
“May we fish again this evening Uncle John?” Martha asked.
“No Martha, as good as that fishing spot was, a storm is on its way. Those big clouds over there have been building all morning and they’re coming this way. From the looks of them, it could be quite a storm,” John said, pointing to the darkening thunderheads mushrooming on the horizon. “Besides, your father and Sam will bring us something tasty to eat.”
“I hope they see the storm brewing too and head back before too long,” Jane said, as she and Kelly gathered up the breakfast dishes.
Catherine poured everyone another cup of coffee.
“Do na worry about them. The Captain’s the best weather predictor I know,” Bear said. “He can smell a storm comin’ a month in advance.”
“Oh Bear, you’re just exasperating,” Polly said.
“You mean exaggerating,” Jane corrected, giving Polly an affectionate hug.
“She was right the first time,” John said.
Everyone chuckled, except Polly who didn’t understand what she had said. Obviously annoyed they were laughing, she pinched her lips, stuck her jaw out, narrowed her eyes, and put her hands on her hips. When she did, she seemed so much like Stephen when he was aggravated, they all laughed even more. Polly had inherited not only her father’s dark coloring but his facial expressions as well.
Martha, however, looked like her, with green twinkling eyes, fair skin and untamable red curls. And as Martha grew, Jane could see more and more of her own personality reflected in her oldest daughter. She still couldn’t believe how bravely Martha had defied Bomazeen. If not for the distraction she provided, God knows how that day would have gone. She reached for her daughter and gave her a big hug.
Wilderness Trail of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 1) Page 23
