Spake As a Dragon

by Larry Edward Hunt

  Luke signals Old Bill, “Bill! Old Bill!” The old prospector stops and waits for Luke to approach. Luke explains the snow is getting harder and the trail is becoming treacherous. He asks Old Bill for advice. Bill says he knows of a cave up the trail that they can use to get in out of the weather. They can reach it in another hour or two if their mounts can stay on the slippery trail.

  Old Bill was right and wrong – he was correct there was a cave ahead they could seek shelter in, but he was wrong, it has taken nearly four hours getting to it! The snow has accumulated to the depth of about six inches or better and is getting deeper by the minute. Finding the cave in this blizzard was more luck than skill. It is almost impossible to see less than a few feet in front of them. The snow is falling fast and furious, and the flakes were the size of a silver quarter. Luke and Nate have never seen such a snowfall.

  KAY MANN

  Reaching the cave’s entrance Luke marveled at the small size of the opening, just large enough to get their horses in, but is amazed upon entering at the cave’s interior size – it is huge. He reasons a full-size house could sit within the enormous cavern. However, it wasn’t the size of the cave he is concerned about – far back in the rear he sees a fire and a lone person kneeling close to its crackling flames. A bay mare stands off to his side. Who is this man is the question?

  Luke reaches with his right hand and slips the leather loop from the hammer of his pistol. He walks his horse across the vastness of the cave toward the individual but does not remove his hand from his Colt sidearm. Nate slides the rifle from his saddle, cocks the hammer back and follows behind with his finger at ready, on the trigger.

  About halfway across the cavern the noise from the horse’s hooves against the clay floor arouses the stranger at the fire. He turns to face them. Nate begins to pull the Colt from its holster; Nate draws the Spencer’s trigger back into full firing position. They are watching for the least movement of the stranger’s right hand toward his gun. Within a second or two either the stranger or one of them are going to be dead – it just depends upon who is the faster with their gun.

  “Howdy fellers, come on down to my fire,” motions the stranger. “I’ve got a good hot pot of coffee brewing, it’s roasted corn kernels, but it’ll warm yer innards.”

  Luke, Nate and Old Bill slowly venture toward the fire, still unsure if this person is friend or foe. “Put your hosses over there next to my bay she’ll never mind. I’ve got a rope stretched to use as a hitch, yer welcome to use it.”

  Dismounting and carefully keeping an eye on the man at the fire Luke walks from his horse toward him – his fingers still gripping his .44, he still does not know what to make of this person.

  “Come closer, I’ve got a real good fire going. I was most froze to death when I stumbled upon this place. I believe I have traveled over this mountain a dozen times using that trail and never once have I noticed this cave. Wouldn’t have this time neither, but as me and Nellie, oh, Nellie’s my hoss, got close to the mouth I felt the warm air coming out, and here I am.”

  Luke walks closer, still apprehensive, still on guard. Once he got within a few feet Luke inquired as to who he is and what is he doing out here on this mountain in a driving snow- storm.

  “Well, first off my names Kay Mann, yeah my Ma wanted a girl, I’ve just learned to live with it. I see you fellers are Yanks. Well as least you are young feller, I ain’t exactly figured the black one out, he’s dressed half Yank and half Confed, and that other one he must’a fought with them Israelites when they escaped with Moses from Egypt,” he said laughing.

  Limping up in a hurry, “Now you look here you young whippersnapper, I can fight my weight in mountain lions and bite the head off’a rattlesnake, don’t you be callin’ me old – I’ve jest mellowed some. Dadburn if I weren’t so pert near froze I’d jest whoop you right here and now!”

  “Sorry! Sorry old-timer, I didn’t mean no harm; it was all just in fun. Who are you fellers anyhow? Yanks? Rebs? Deserters? It don’t make me no never you mind anyhow.”

  Luke answers, “Mr. Mann we are, well me and Nate are Rebs all right, but Moses here,” Luke grinned, “he’s kind of neutral. To be exact though, Nate WAS impressed into Union service from North Carolina as a wagon driver and burier of the dead. I was a Yank prisoner and me and Nate escaped together.”

  “Rebs is fine, I work for the Yanks, but my heart is with the South. Ole Nellie slipped a few years back and I broke my arm, never did get the total use of it back. I tried to jine up with the ‘federates, but they wouldn’t have me. Said I’d be more use carrying the Yankee mail. You see I am the mail rider for these mountains. I usually make my last run across in early December, but news is a braking and I knowed people wanted information on their kin.”

  Luke pounced on the mail rider for information, “Tell us! Tell us, what is the news of the War? We have heard nothing.”

  Kay explained that he carried the mail back and forth from the south of Lexington to Knoxville making the round trip about once every two months. If he found any letters that might be of use to the Southern cause, he would turn them over to a Confederate emissary at Knoxville.

  “Enough talk, please Sir tell us the news!”

  Kay went on to explain the Yankees have a general by the name of Grant that has taken Vicksburg. “In effect,” the mail-rider continued, “cutting the South’s main line of supply – the Mississippi river.”

  “Fellers I’m afeared the South has lost this here War. All that’s goin’ on now is Yankee carpetbaggers robbing the South. Thieves and outlaws are taking what remains. That’s why I’m using this back trail instead of the main road. Them outlaws waylay practically everyone traveling the old Wilderness Road, even the mail riders. What’s y’all’s story?”

  Before Luke begins to explain their situation he speaks to Nate, “Would you get the bag out of your saddlebag? Nate, it must be close to Christmas, bring all the other vittles too. We’re going to have us a good old Christmas feast.” Luke reaches over the fire picks up Kay’s coffee pot and pours the contents onto the floor of the cave.

  “Whoa, there feller, what you doin’? That’s my coffee yer flinging out!”

  “Be patient for just a spell and we will have you some ‘real’ coffee.”

  They fried beans sliced off some salt cured ham and fried bacon, opened up hardtack and washed it all down with freshly brewed coffee. They ate until they could eat no more. Sitting around the fire Kay was the first to speak, “Fellers, I’ve had many a Christmas dinner in my life, and thought I had some good’ens, but I believe this is the best ever. Thanks, thank you for lettin’ me share a part of this Christmas with y’all.”

  “Hang on for just a minute,” Luke says as he gets up and walks toward the cave entrance. In a couple of minutes, he returns with about a four-foot top section of a cedar tree covered in snow. Back at the fire he shakes the snow off and props up the little cedar with a couple of big rocks. He takes a scrap of paper from his pocket, tears it into small pieces and uses it to decorate the ‘Christmas Tree.’ Nate finds a couple of odd looking sticks to hang on a limb or two, Old Bill removes some string from Lucky’s halter and Kay removes a couple of old used stamps from some un-delivered letters. They now have themselves a honest-to-goodness Christmas tree.

  “Mr. Jefferson, if I may, would you lend me your guitar?”

  Luke strums on the strings, tightening one string and loosening another, humming as he goes through the musical chords until the guitar is tuned just right. He then starts strumming a tune. At first he is a little rusty, it has been a long time since he held a musical instrument. He picks a few notes, stops then starts over, picks a few more, then starts playing and softly singing, “Hark the herald angels sing...” the others all join in singing:

  “Hark the herald angels sing,

  Glory to the newborn King!

  Peace on earth and mercy mild

  God and sinners reconciled.

  Joyful, all ye nations rise
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  Join the triumph of the skies

  With the angelic host proclaim:

  "Christ is born in Bethlehem"

  Hark! The herald angels sing

  "Glory to the newborn King!"

  Luke continues to play all the Christmas carols he knows, Deck the Halls, Oh Come all Ye Faithful, It came upon a Midnight Clear and ends with an uplifting song Jingle Bells.

  “That was wonderful Luke,” Old Bill said, with the flames from the fire glistening off a tear in the corner of his eye, “That sure brought back old memories. If I just had me some eggnog, this Christmas would be complete.”

  “Ahem, ahem,” Kay clears his throat.

  Luke sitting down the guitar looks to the mail-rider and asks, “Do you wish to say something Mr. Mann?”

  “If someone were to take a peek in my left-side saddlebag, there might be something in there besides the mail. Of course, I could not allow anyone to open a saddlebag belonging to the U.S. Mail, but if I were not looking I suppose I’m not responsible.”

  The last vowel had barely exited Kay’s mouth as Luke bounds to Nellie. Opening the saddlebag he sees a few letters and a small leather pouch big enough to hold a little Christmas cheer. Back at the campfire, Kay still has his back turned to his horse. He turns and announces, “Oh, I see you have a leather pouch, you know there might be a bottle of snakebite ointment in there. For use in cases of emergency only of course.”

  Luke opens the pouch – inside indeed was a bottle of whiskey, a small bottle of ink, a pen and a few pieces of folded writing paper. He withdraws the bottle and begins to pass it around the circle, each taking a long drink. Kay takes the bottle from Nate saying, “Darn it, I believe a rattlesnake jest bit me! I need a sip of that life saving medicine Nate.” Kay laughs and passes it to Luke. Luke takes a drink, “Darn rascal done bit me too!”

  Luke hands the bottle back to Old Bill, but turns to Kay, “I see you carry some writing material in your saddlebag. What is its purpose?”

  “Oh,” says Kay, “many postal customers on my route do not have ink or paper, but have a desire to communicate with some dear one far away. I give them a chance to do so. Sometimes I have to write the letter myself, ‘cause they can’t read or write.”

  “Would you allow me to do the same Kay? I would like to write a letter to my mother, if you would post it when you get down the mountain.”

  “Of course, help yourself.”

  December 25, (or there-a-bouts), 1863

  My Dear Mother,

  Merry Christmas to you and all my brothers and sisters, I hope this finds you well and in good health. I know I have been gone a long time and have written you many times, but must inform you that I have never received a post from you or from any of my friends at home.

  I write to you from a cave somewhere in Kentucky where we have sought shelter from a blizzard, I have recently been imprisoned by the Yankees but have escaped and am headed home. If all goes well Nate, yes that is correct Nate is with me, we should reach Albertville in a couple of months.

  My love to all,

  Your loving son,

  Luke Scarburg

  p.s.

  Nate says tell his Ma, Pa and brother Jefferson, he is well and will see them soon.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  CHRISTMAS EVE ON THE FARM

  Albertville, December 24, 1863

  Dearest Husband,

  It is Christmas Eve, this will be our second Christmas apart. Oh, how I have missed you. Since you and the boys left in ’62, I have not received one word from any of you. I hope and pray you and my two darling boys, Luke and Matthew are still alive and well. You understand I know nothing of the working of the military, but I do not know why you or the boys can never post me a letter. Surely writing letters are not secrets...are they?? Maybe you cannot tell me where you are, that I can understand, but please just get word, somehow, that you are alive.

  When I get to town, I always check the casualty lists posted on the telegraph office’s wall, but as yet, thankfully I have never seen your name or the boys. Each post I send I try to keep you up to date on the family, I am pleased to say all is well. I don’t know what I would have done without Sary though. I don’t remember if I told you or not, but after Uncle Jed and Jefferson were killed we buried them out by the large red oak tree. William and Isaac set up a nice picket fence around the plot of ground. It looks almost like the little cemetery we left at Scarlett Plantation in Carolina where little Paul and the rest of our family are buried. I put them next to Margaret. I hope that was right by you. Tom Henry found some nice flat rocks down beside Hog Creek and etched their names on them. I think you would have been proud.

  Until I see you here on Earth or in Heaven, I will always be

  Your loving wife, Malinda

  Finishing her letter Malinda speaks to William, “William it is Christmas Eve, this year take Thomas Henry out into the back pasture and look along the fence line and cut us a nice cedar Christmas tree.”

  “But Mama,” argued William, “Tom Henry is too young! I’ll have to do all the work – find a tree, cut it down and then drag it back to the house. Let me at least take Isaac, he’ll be some help, and besides Tom Henry will probably chop his leg off.”

  Malinda placing her pen on the table turns to William giving him a stern look explains that young Thomas Henry has never had the pleasure of a Christmas tree cutting. She suggests since he is so inexperienced he is allowed to choose the ‘perfect’ tree, William can cut it, thereby saving Thomas Henry’s leg, and they both can take turns pulling it back to the house. Someday the responsibility will fall on Thomas Henry and he needs to learn.

  Still grumbling William storms out the front door. Tom Henry follows with a grin that stretches from ear to ear. By the time he reaches the steps William is in the yard waiting.

  “All right, if you’re goin’ we need the axe from the barn. Go get it!”

  “Right, William,” Tom Henry says beginning to run toward the barn door. He enters the barn; William sits down on the front steps expecting him back immediately. Immediately turns into a couple of minutes. Getting worried William begins to walk to the barn himself as Tom Henry comes riding out on Blaze. He is carrying an axe and rope.

  “What the...! What are you doing Tom Henry, we can’t take Blaze.”

  “Sure we can, you know I have never been Christmas tree hunting before, so I’m not supposed to know that we’re not allowed to take Blaze to drag the tree back. And besides Mama didn’t say anything about not using Blaze.”

  William looks at his brother, the horse, the axe and the rope then nods his head, “Right! Right, stick with that story: you don’t know nothin’ about taking the horse.” Jumping upon Blaze the two of them quietly ride off toward the back pasture.

  THE PERFECT TREE

  Riding double on Blaze across the pasture of knee high, green Rye grass William remembers back a few years when a neighbor told them about the winter Rye. At first he did not believe that grass could grow in the winter, but they tried it and sure enough, here it is. It is perfect forage for the cows and horses, well for their one horse Blaze. “All right little genius find us that perfect Christmas tree, Tom Henry.”

  William rides Blaze along the fence line knowing the area along a fence is the perfect place to find the young cedar trees. As they ride, Thomas Henry looks at first one then the other so far none meets with his approval. “Come on Tom Henry, pick out one, it’s cold out here and we need to get back to the house.”

  Back at the house Malinda has the rest of the family moving furniture away from the front window. She says this is an ideal spot for the tree. “All right everyone, I’m popping popcorn and we need to string it up to put on the tree. Mattie Ann you and Lizzie go up to the attic and get the box of Christmas decorations and bring them downstairs. Sary get a needle and thread for the popcorn.”

  The family is joyous and excited as they prepare to decorate the tree that William and Tom Henry will find. Their hearts
are on Christmas. They know there will be no presents, but this is the third year of this terrible War and they have forgotten the spirit of Christmas giving.

  Malinda hears the boys returning. She goes to the front door just in time to see Thomas Henry leading Blaze back into the barn. She stands waiting silently for him to return. Grabbing the tree William and Tom Henry carry it upon the porch and into the house. “Take it into the parlor room we’re going to put it in front of the large front window.”

  Once they have the tree standing, Tom Henry steps back admiring the tree asks, “Well Mama what do you think, did I pick out a good one, or what?”

  “Oh yes, Thomas Henry, that is a fine tree; in fact, it may be the best one we have had in years. Where did you find it?”

  Still strutting his feathers Tom Henry responds, “Why, we had to go plumb near the end of the fence line before I found this fine tree.”

  “The end of the fence line, huh? Thomas Henry that’s a long way to go, and you and William had to drag this tree,” she looks the tree up and down, “why it’s nearly 8 feet tall, all the way from back there to the house.”

  “Yes ma’am it IS a long way.”

  “Who did most of the dragging you or William?” William begins to inch his way toward the hall and out of the room. “Where you going William, the fun is just getting started.”

  “Yes ma’am that what I was afraid of.”