Spake As a Dragon

by Larry Edward Hunt

  Again Luke and this time Nate both try to dissuade Old Bill from the folly of blowing up the outlaws, but he has his mind made up and isn’t going to change. Nate goes to his horse, opens his saddlebag and withdraws a stick of dynamite and hands it to Old Bill. Bill slips it inside his shirt and starts walking down the trail towards the bandits, leaving Lucky and Goldie with Luke and Nate.

  Luke and Nate crawl to the edge of the cliff and watch what is going on a few hundred feet below. At the first sight of Old Bill the bandits spring to their feet and draw their six-shooters; however, in a second or two as Bill approaches, and is recognized, they holster their guns and all begin to talk, slap Old Bill on the back and laugh. It appears that they also have their own jug of ‘rattlesnake medicine’ and are taking turns with the jug. In a while, the laughing and loud talk begins to quiet down and they fall asleep. Old Bill sees his chance and tosses the dynamite into the fire and starts to run back up the trail toward Luke and Nate. A second passes then another. Was the dynamite faulty? Thought Luke.

  Suddenly they hear a hissing sound and BA-BOOM! The thunderous detonation reverberates off the walls of the canyon. The resulting explosion kills all the outlaws around the fire, except one. He is running as fast as his boots will take him down the mountain, he cuts across the ridge heading toward the Gap. What about Old Bill? Luke sees him limping along the trail - he has not been killed in the blast. Injured maybe, but Old Bill is still alive.

  “What is that noise Nate?” Luke said cocking his head to one side, “Hear it? That rumbling sound?” Both Luke and Nate realize the sound is coming from the mountain above their heads and on the mountain behind the bandits. The rumbling noise is snow – an avalanche of snow, trees and rocks caused by the dynamite explosion is beginning to cascade down both sides of the mountain into the narrow canyon with the dead outlaws and Old Bill.

  THE AVALANCHE

  “Run Bill run!” Luke tries to yell above the noise of the avalanche.

  Nate starts to run down the trail to meet him, but it is too late the wall of snow, thousands and thousands of tons of it, fill the canyon, burying the bandits and sadly Old Bill too. Luke and Nate are covered with a coating of the white, powdery flakes, but the main river of flowing snow spared them.

  It takes a few minutes before the snow settles and Luke and Nate can once again begin to move down the trail. Around the horseshoe bend, they meet the mountain of snow that has buried Old Bill. “Luke, I sees no way ‘round this here pile of snow. We can’t goes over and we can’t goes back. What’s yer plan?”

  “To be honest Nate I don’t have a plan – I’m afraid Old Bill and our stick of dynamite have gotten us out of one fix into another mess. He solved the outlaw problem all right, but he created another perplexing situation – this mountain of snow.”

  “Reckon we’s can jest wait ‘til this here big pile of snow melts Luke?”

  “Sure, we can Nate in a couple of months or more. Wait! Wait Nate you have another stick of dynamite, right?”

  “Shore nuff Luke, I’ll gets it outta my saddlebag.” Excitedly Nate exclaims, “Man oh man, I can see you’s done got us a plan!”

  Luke tells Nate to take the animals back up the trail and get them out of harms way. He is going to put that stick of dynamite into the mountain of snow and see if he can blow a hole through it.

  Running up the trail to Nate and the animals Luke hollers, “Fire in the hole!” He has no sooner said the words than the dynamite explodes with a resounding boom. Snow fills the canyon again covering Luke and Nate with another fine coat of powdered snow. Luke is afraid to look over the side of the cliff – summing a little courage Luke creeps to the side and looks. “Oh my, oh my,” is all he can say.

  “What happened Luke, didn’t we do no good?”

  Standing upon his feet Luke peered into the canyon, “Do good? Do good you say? See for yourself Nate.”

  Nate walks to the edge and looks down at the mountain of snow – what mountain of snow? The dynamite has blown a hole through the pile of snow, clean through, from one side to the other - the trail was open again. “My, my, Luke, it looks like when Noah opened that ole Red Sea...”

  “Moses, Nate Moses,” Luke said slapping Nate on the back, grinning.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  THE SAMUEL BABB FARM

  Luke and Nate spent the rest of the day searching through the snow trying to find Old Bill. Not only did they not find Old Bill’s body they did not even find anything belonging to him – no shoes, clothes or hat... nothing.

  About an hour before dark they got back upon their horses and begin to lead Lucky and Goldie on farther down the backside of the mountain. “Luke, what are we’s to do now? We don’t have Old Bill to show us the way.”

  Luke explains to Nate the conversation he had earlier with the mail-rider Kay Mann. Mr. Mann tells Nate that they must follow the trail down the mountain until they come to a farm about three-fourths of the way to the bottom. The mail-rider said a man by the name of Samuel Babb owns the farm. Samuel is a Southern sympathizer and will provide them a safe place to stop and rest.

  Days later Luke and Nate trudge slowly along the trail, and once again a blizzard has set in. Luke is leading, head down trying to shield his face from the blinding, wind-driven snow. Luke has tied a rope to his saddle, which leads to Goldie, from Goldie to Lucky the burro and Nate bring up the rear.

  The bone chilling wind is whistling through the pines, Luke knows they must find shelter and find it fast – the temperature must be near zero. From the end of the rope Nate yells, “Stop! Luke please dear Lord, we’ve gots to stop. I’m nearly done froze to death. We gots to find shelter, please Luke!” Luke could hear Nate yelling, but he couldn’t hear what he was saying over the noise of the wind. He pulls back on his reins and stops his horse, turns and walks it back to Nate. What he sees horrifies him, Nate’s beard in a mass of ice around his mouth. His old black face and slouch hat are white with ice and snow, he struggles to breathe, “P-P-Please,” Nate says shivering, “Please Luke, we gots to find a place to git outta this wind and snow, or we’re done fer!”

  “You’re right Nate, and we have to find shelter fast. We can’t last much longer.” Wait, what is that smell? There it is again. “Smell that Nate. Don’t you smell that?”

  Nate looks at Luke as if Luke were crazy.

  “Smoke, Nate. That’s smoke I smell. The wind is blowing smoke from a fire toward us that’s got to be coming from the Babb farm. Come on Nate, hold on just a little longer, it can’t be too far now.”

  Back in the lead Luke urges his horse on. Nate is right, even the horses know they cannot last much longer, “Come on,” Luke says to his mount while kicking his heels into her side. Slowly the horse begins to move. One step then another, the line to Goldie tightens and she begins to move also. ‘How far can they stay on their feet,’ thinks Luke? He stares into the blinding snow – ‘is that a light I see in the distance, yes there it is again, it is a light!’ Turning in the saddle he hollers at Nate and points with his finger, “There’s the farm Nate, we’ve made it – hold on for just a few more minutes.”

  Luke stops at the hitching rail in front of the house, slides from his horse and stumbles through the deep snow to the front door. He barely has the energy to pound on the door, ‘whomp, whomp, whomp,’ each strike with his fist is weaker and weaker. He thinks, ‘Does anyone hear me? Oh please, I have not the strength to pound again!’ He is beginning to collapse on the porch as the door begins to open.

  “Lord have mercy!” Exclaims a young girl opening the door. “You men are almost frozen to death. Get yourself inside! Sam!” She yells to her brother, “please help get these men into the house, then put their animals in the barn. Feed and water them too while you are out there, please.”

  Later Luke and Nate are sitting around a roaring fireplace, wrapped in quilts and sipping hot parched corn coffee spiked with a taste of white lighting. Luke speaks first, “Miss you don’t know how much Nate and
I appreciate your hospitality. If we hadn’t gotten a whiff of your smoke, I’m afraid we could have plodded by your farm without notice and frozen to death. Oh, I’m sorry... we didn’t introduce ourselves. My name is Luke Scarburg and my friend here is Nathaniel ‘Nate’ Scarburg.”

  “Is he your slave, Mr. Scarburg?”

  “No, certainly not – his family and my family have always been splendid friends. His Pappy was a slave on my grandfather’s plantation; however, my father freed all the slaves when Grandfather died. No, Nate is a free man, as free as you and I.”

  “Pleased to meet you both. I am Catherine, and Samuel Junior, my brother, is taking care of your animals at the barn. My parents Samuel and Eleanor Babb own this farm.”

  “I must ask Katherine, what is that substance you are burning in the fireplace? It is black, and I know by its smell it is not wood. Could I inquire as to what it is?”

  “Up on the mountain Pa found these black rocks that burn. We use them to burn in the fireplace and in our lamps.”

  “Catherine, I have seen these rocks before at a railroad yard in Columbus, Ohio. I believe it is called coal. They are beginning to use it to fire the boilers in the locomotives of the trains, but how do you get them to burn in an oil lamp?”

  “Father made him a type of moonshine still out by the barn. Instead of making alcohol, he heats the black rocks until they form what he calls coal oil. He extracts the stuff and we use it in our lamps. He has drums full of it in the woodshed. Works really good, but sometimes the lamps get awfully smoky. Ma always said she wished we could still get the whale oil again, but it is near impossible with this War going on.”

  “Speaking of your parents, where are your father and mother?”

  “Both of them are upstairs in the big bedroom. Father was shot when a bunch of outlaws rode through here right after Christmas. He’s alive, but paralyzed and cannot walk. The bullet hit his spine. They shot Mother too, but she comes in and out of consciousness. She occasionally is awake long enough for Sam and me to give her something to eat and drink.”

  “How did you and Sam manage to escape harm?”

  “I was in the barn milking and Sam was in the house and hid as the shooting took place. Father came out on the porch and I could hear the talking getting real rough. The riders raised their voice pretty loud and I suppose an argument arose that’s when they shot Father. Mother ran out of the house and they shot her too. We were too far away to hear what was being said, but Father later said they wanted money. After the shooting Sam stayed in the closet and I hid underneath the hay in the barn until they left. The only thing Sam said he could remember was the jingle of the outlaw’s spurs as he walked across the room.”

  “Did your father offer any resistance to those thugs.”

  “No, Father is a member of the Religious Society of Friends and doesn’t believe in violence.”

  “Quaker? You mean he is a Quaker? What about the white lightening we had with our coffee? Did he make it himself? I always thought your religion refrained from strong drink?”

  “We believe in plain speech and dress, are opposed to slavery and war, and the refusal to swear oaths, there is nothing against drinking in our beliefs. However, many Friends abstain from the use of spirits of all kinds. Father, however,” she puts her hand to her mouth to mask her laugh, “believes in the Biblical verse from First Timothy, ‘Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach's sake...”

  “Wine? Wine, you say girl? That is hard liquor your father makes. That stuff must be one hundred-fifty proof, at least! Does he sell it too, or use all of it for ‘thy stomach’s sake’?”

  Laughing again, Catherine responds, “I must admit it is not wine, but Father does not make it either. Each summer he carries a few of the Walker hounds down into Tennessee and trades with a man named John or Jack, I think his last name is Daniels. I understand he has a large still that he runs somewhere back in the hills next to a large cave. Mr. Daniels uses the spring water from the cave to make Father’s spirits. He always returns with a thirty-five gallon barrel of his ‘wine’ he has swapped for the bunch of Walkers he carried with him. He works on his stomach with the contents of that barrel until he can return the next summer.”

  “All right, enough of your father’s trading deals. If I may ask,” inquires Luke, “How old are you and Sam?”

  “Sam is fifteen and I will be eighteen my next birthday.”

  “I understand from your religion you are against the War, but I don’t think the military, either North or South would care. Have they tried to impress Sam into the Army?”

  “Yes, Father obtained an exemption for Sam, Jr., by paying the Yanks a fee of $500. The tribute keeps Sam from being conscripted into the Army, but the Conscription Officer comes by regularly to forcibly haul him off to the Yankee Army anyway. When we see him coming we hide Sam to keep them from getting him.

  Father moved here from South Carolina to practice his religion in peace, and we were doing so until this awful War began. I can see by your clothes you all are Yankees, but I have to be honest, we side with the South; although, we do not take any active part in the War.”

  “May we go upstairs and pay our respects? We’ll talk more about this later.”

  Walking into the room Luke notices, there are two beds. In one lies Mr. Babb and his wife rests in the other. The room is illuminated with a coal oil lamp sitting on a table between the two beds. A small fireplace supplies heat.

  “Father, are you awake? We have visitors. Are you well enough to speak with them? This man is Luke Scarburg and the other is Nate Scarburg.”

  “Yes daughter, bring them closer to the light. Thou are welcome in my humble home Sirs. I am Samuel Babb I consider it an honor to meet you both. Thee are to stay and partake of our hospitality as long as thy deem necessary. I can hear we are in the midst of a great storm, surely thee have not traveled down the mountain in this dreadful weather?”

  Reaching to grasp Mr. Babb’s hand, Luke utters, “It is a pleasure Sir to meet you. We thank you for giving us shelter from this storm. I’m sure you and your family have saved us from a terrible frozen demise, and yes we have traveled from the far side of the mountain.”

  “Daughter, find seating for these two gentlemen, I must hear of their adventures.”

  For a while, Luke and Nate sit and tell Mr. Babb and Catherine, about their exploits beginning with the Battle of Gettysburg, over six months earlier. Sometimes they laugh and at other times they have a tear come to their eye. Finally, Luke says, “That’s enough for now about Nate and me. How about telling us about your family.”

  Samuel begins, “Sir I am against violence, but,” shutting his eyes as in prayer finally opens them and says, “Thank you for smiting those vile villains.” Mr. Babb quotes:

  ‘To do justice and judgment is more acceptable to the LORD than sacrifice.’ Proverbs Chapter 21, Verse 3.

  “It appears those heathens received justice and judgment at thou hands – thank thee my friends.”

  Samuel tells Luke and Nate of his life in South Carolina. As a young lad, the settlement in which his father and mother lived was filled with Friends of the Society. The Meetinghouse was usually filled with believers; however, as he began to grow older the place gradually began to change. More and more non-believers moved into the town. The weekly Meetinghouse known as the Jacob Ingram House of the Lord, some called it the Damascus House of the Lord, was hardly filled on meeting day.

  “Stop! Stop Mr. Babb, what was the name of your Meetinghouse?”

  “Uh, twas the Jacob Ingram Meetinghouse, or some called it the Damascus House of the Lord, why? Yee know it?”

  “Where did you live in South Carolina Sir?”

  “We had a small place on Mink Creek close to a settlement called Scarlettsville, there was a mill there too. It was called the Scarburg Mill. Yee name be Scarburg, is it not? Is there some connection?”

  “Connection? A connection indeed Mr. Babb, the Meetinghouse you speak o
f was constructed by my great-grandfather Jacob Ingram! He is my mother’s grandfather! My other great-grandfather John Scarburg built the very mill of which you speak. My father and mother are from Scarlettsville also, but they later moved to Alabama. Isn’t this a mysterious world or what?”

  “Yes indeed, the mysteries of God are an amazement.”

  Mr. Babb continued, “When we lived in Scarlettsville and met at the John Ingram Meetinghouse the Friends always questioned why a particular Bible scripture was engraved on the inside wall over the door, it read:

  ‘And Ahaz took the silver and gold that was found in the house of the LORD, and in the treasures of the king's house, and sent it for a present...’

  “Mr. Scarburg, ye say your parents are from Scarlettsville too. Were they Quakers? Did anyone ever tell ye what that passage meant or why someone saw fit to engrave it over the door? I have all ways assumed it referred to one’s soul or spirit that our God sends to be with Him when our earthly life is finished.”

  “It is a mystery to me too Mr. Babb. I suppose your thoughts on the verse could be correct, but no, no my parents did not attend the Scarlettsville Meetinghouse. They were just plain old Southern Baptists.”

  “Sir would thee please remove thou firearm resting there on thy hip, our religion forbids violence.”

  Luke unbuckles his Colt .44 and hangs the holster over the corner headboard post of Mr. Babb’s bed.

  “Good, now would thee please sit down on the edge of my bed, I would like a few words of import with thee.” Speaking to Catherine, he requested she go downstairs and prepare their guests a proper supper. Jake follows closely behind Catherine as she leaves the bedroom.

  “Ma,” he says pointing toward Mrs. Babb’s bed, “will never recover and I am worse than useless. My darlin’ girl and brave boy will always have to tend to us both. That’s a fearsome burden to put on them. I’m askin’ ye to promise if something was to happen to me and Ma I want my children taken care of. Ye being from Scarlettsville are most like family, and God has allowed ye to find our humble farm. Your presence here today has got to be God’s divine will. Please get a piece of paper and pen from my desk and write what I will say to thee.” Luke did as requested and wrote the following: