The Travelers 1

by Lee Hunnicutt

  Beth said, “We’ll make the same thing we had for lunch but just one can. We’ll use the can of water that we are boiling. What do you think?”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Sonny.

  “Me too.” Jack said.

  The water in the cans had been boiling for about 30 minutes so they took one can off of the fire to cool and Beth ladled the water out of the other can until it was about three quarters full. She then threw in about a cup of rice, a few pieces of jerky and seasoned it with garlic power and all season salt. Jack chopped up half an onion and a carrot and threw them in the pot. He put the other half of the onion back in its plastic bag.

  They sat there watching the fire not saying anything for a minute. The warmth of the fire felt good. It was dark now and beginning to get chilly.

  Jack said, “If we find a town, what are we going to do? How do we get back to our time and to the Canal Zone? We’re just three kids who are for all practical purposes orphaned and if I remember correctly from reading Dickens, the nineteenth century wasn’t easy on children much less orphans.”

  “Well they had no compunction about working kids in Dickens’ time.” Sonny said. “So we should be able to work for our living. We won’t make spit but if we stick together and pool our wages we might be able to keep from starving.”

  “Gosh, Sonny aren’t you a ray of sunshine.” Beth said smiling.

  “Yeah,” laughed Jack “but he’s right.”

  Beth reached over and grabbed a hold of Jack’s hand and reached over with the other hand and took hold of Sonny’s hand and said with conviction, “As long as we stick together and have each other, we are going to be all right. We will come through this.”

  Jack patted Beth’s hand and said, “I know we will Beth. As long as you’re here to kick us in the ass, we’ll be just fine.”

  “Yeah.” Sonny said and squeezed his sister’s hand and laughed. “Jack’s right. As long as you keep kicking, we’ll be OK.”

  Beth laughed and said, “You guys were lucky. Next time I’ll put my boots on first.”

  When the stew was ready Beth ladled out equal portions. When they were finished they went down to the river and cleaned the can and their canteen cups. Jack filled up the can with water and put it on the fire to boil.

  He then went over to the other can that was cooling and filled their cups with water. There was still some water in the can and he poured it into one of the canteens. He went back to the river and filled the empty can and put it on the fire to boil.

  They sat around the fire sipping warm water and trying not to think of the wagon.

  The water had now been boiling for thirty minutes. Jack picked up the stick that the cans were suspended on while Beth and Sonny kicked dirt on the fire to put it out. Jack set the stick with the cans back on the two forked sticks so that it was suspended over the dead fire. The water would be cool in the morning and they would fill their canteens and drink the rest.

  “Jack,” Beth said, “why did you take that arrow back there at the wagon?”

  “Well,” Jack looked a little chagrined “in all of the old westerns when the army scouts came upon an Indian massacre they would look at an arrow and tell what tribe did the killing. So I thought that maybe if we ever find civilization, someone could look at this arrow and do the same thing. Maybe….” He looked down at the ground and said softly “maybe they could catch whoever did it.”

  Sonny looked at his watch and said, “I put it between eight and nine o’clock. I’m bushed. Let’s hit the sack.”

  Both Beth and Jack yawned out a yes and the three of them picked up their packs and headed for the shelter. They climbed under the poncho liners arranged their packs as pillows and fell right to sleep.

  It was in the dead of the night and Jack sat straight up. His head brushed the tent. His heart pounding. He stayed perfectly still listening. He had heard something. He slowed his breathing and held his breath, listening. Nothing. He could hear the river flowing but nothing else. He sat there for what felt like an eternity. He was alert and his senses were alive, listening, smelling, feeling danger. He knew something, someone was there but he couldn’t see or hear anything. He then began to think he had imagined or dreamt the sound.

  In the distance he heard what sounded like hooves on the ground, like a horse trotting and then nothing. He looked at his watch. It was, he calculated about two or three in the morning. He lay back down. He was still alert and it took what seemed for ever to go back to sleep.

  When he did wake up the sun was up. He looked over and Beth was still asleep but Sonny was gone. He got up so as not to wake Beth and walked out to the fire place. A fire was going. The two tin cans were sitting on the ground. He walked down to the river and saw Sonny about fifty feet up stream sitting on a rock in the river fishing.

  He walked over to him. “Any luck?”

  “Yeah.” He said proudly. “Look on the bank behind me.”

  Jack climbed up the bank and there were six perch of varying sizes.

  “Got another one,” said Sonny as he pulled another perch out of the water. He turned around and climbed the bank to stand next to Jack.

  “This is great. Good job, Sonny. What did you use for bait?”

  Sonny beamed. “Earth worms.”

  “These’ll be great for breakfast. How long you been up?”

  “I got up about sunrise and have been up for about an hour and a half.”

  “Start cleaning them and I’ll go wake up Beth. She can start cooking some potatoes and onion and I’ll come back and help you.” Jack said.

  Jack turned to get Beth just as she was walking towards the fire. He waved to her and called, “Come on over. Sonny has caught seven perch.”

  She walked over smiling. “Wow Sonny, that’s some catch.”

  “He caught them with earthworms,” said Jack.

  “Beth, Jack and I will clean them. Why don’t you fry up a couple of potatoes and some onion?”

  “OK” she said.

  Jack said, “I have half an onion in my pack. Why don’t you use it?”

  “OK” she yawned and head off to the fire.

  By the time the boys had gutted and scaled the fish, Beth had fried up two potatoes and the half onion. She had scraped them into a mess kit and placed the kit near the fire to keep it warm. She then began to fry the fish. As with the potatoes and onion, she sprinkled garlic powder and salt over the fish.

  It was a tasty breakfast and it put them in a good mood.

  With water that they had boiled the night before, they filled their canteens and drank any that was left over. They refilled one of the cans with water and while they were cleaning the mess kits and the frying pan they put the can on to boil. They then set about to break camp. They took down the tent, deflated their air mattresses and repacked their packs.

  By the time they had finished, the water had come to a boil. They made coffee and sweetened it with artificial sweetener.

  They drank their coffee quickly. Eager to hit the trail. Their spirits were high. They had a water supply and they knew they could catch fish. Things were looking up or so they thought.

  The next three days were perfect. They were following the river downstream. Across the river the mountains towered to the sky, grand and majestic. At places the forest sweep down the mountains to the bank of the river. On their side of the river they walked through forest and meadows. In the meadows they would sometimes see a small herd of grazing deer. All the deer would do was lift up their heads and look at them indifferently as the three kids walked by them. The enormity of the country made them feel small.

  The days were warm and the sky was blue. The nights crisp and cool with starry skies. Except that they were lost in a wilderness, life was good.

  The afternoon of the third day was particularly hot and they had taken their bush hats out of their packs to keep the sun off their heads. Beth had tucked her hair under her hat to keep it off of her neck.

  They had come out of a woo
ded area and were walking across an opening in the forest that was about one hundred yards wide. The river had narrowed and the water was at a low roar. They had to raise their voices when they talked. They were almost across the field and about to enter a large wooded area when three men on horseback emerged from the woods directly in front of them. It surprised both parties. The horsemen reigned in and the children froze in their tracks. One of the horsemen had drawn a pistol and aimed it at them. The lead horseman yelled “Hold on there, Earl. Them’s kids.” The man kept the pistol aimed at them but didn’t fire.

  The leader rode over to them and yelled over the roar of the river. “Who are you and what are you doing out here?”

  The three were stunned by surprise and didn’t, couldn’t say a word.

  “Well?” yelled the man. His horse startled and spun around in a circle.

  The man yelling and the horse moving shocked Jack into replying. “We’re lost and trying to find a town.”

  The man glowered down at him and put his hand out rotating the hand at the wrist as if to say “And?”

  “Our parents died on the trail and orphaned us. I’m Jack. This is Sonny and” pointing to Beth “our brother Bert.” Jack blurted.

  Beth opened her mouth to protest but something told her to keep her mouth shut which she promptly did. Sonny didn’t bat an eye and just nodded his head.

  The man took off his hat and mopped his forehead with a handkerchief and yelled back at the other two men “Looks like we got some lost orphans here.” He laughed. He turned and yelled to the other two men “We make camp here.” He then turned to the kids and said, “Looks like you could use a little grub.”

  The man called Earl holstered his pistol and gave a wicked smiled.

  Earl was leading four packhorses. The last man, a tall thin man, rode from behind the pack animals. When he was abreast of the first man the kids could see that he had what looked like an Indian tied to his saddle horn with a length of rope.

  The Indian was tied by the hands. He looked like he was in bad shape and was having a hard time standing.

  The tall thin man gave the rope a sharp jerk which sent the Indian sprawling onto his face. The Indian tried to get back to his feet but was too weak and rolled over on his back.

  The first man dismounted and said, “I’m Curly Bob Randle.” He pointed to Earl and said, “That’s Dirty Earl Mullins and that’s Slim Barker and this,” he said walking over to the Indian “so Slim claims, is Two Feathers, great Cheyenne war chief.” He punctuated the words war chief with a brutal kick to the Indian’s ribs.

  Except for a sharp expulsion of air there was no sound from the Indian.

  The other two men dismounted and watched Curly kick the Indian.

  Curly Bob was about five foot six inches tall and was the cleanest of the three. He had brown eyes and sure enough, curly brown hair, cut short. He was the shortest of the three men but he looked like the meanest and this was to prove true. He was armed with two pistols, which he wore low on his hips.

  Slim was slim. He was about six feet two inches tall and he had bad posture. When he stood, he looked like an “S”. His shoulders hunched, with his head hanging forward, bobbing like it was suspended by gimbals. His dark hair came down over his ears. He had sharp features, a hook for a nose and a scrawny neck with a large Adam’s apple. Slim was left handed and had one pistol on his left hip.

  Dirty Earl was just that, dirty. He had long, lanky, greasy blond hair that fell past his shoulders. He had washed out blue eyes and was about six feet tall. His clothes were filthy and you didn’t want to be downwind from him. He had one pistol belted on his left front waist with the handle positioned for cross drawing by the right hand.

  The pistols on the men’s belts were 44s.

  “What are you waiting for? Unload the horses and make camp.” Curly Bob snarled. He turned to the kids and said sharply “Don’t just stand there get some wood for a fire.” Under his breath he said, “Scrawny looking brats.”

  The kids took off towards the tree line. When they were out of earshot, Jack said, “Beth, for God’s sake don’t let these guys know you’re a girl. We are going to have to get away from these guys as soon as we can. They’re bad news.”

  “Yeah” said Sonny “these guys are definitely bad news. I don’t think that guy, Curly Bob, likes anybody. Did you see how he talks to his own friends? What are we going to do?”

  “I think we should find out all that we can from them and then try to move on. I don’t think that Bob guy has any friends,” said Beth.

  “What about the Indian?” Jack said.

  “What about the Indian?” said Sonny.

  “We have to do something.” said Beth. “We just can’t let him die or be beaten to death.”

  “I don’t see that we have any choice,” said Sonny. “If we can help him we will but we have to think of ourselves first.”

  “Right,” said Jack “We help him if we can but we won’t do anything stupid. Sonny’s right. We have to think of ourselves first. There’s no sense in all of us getting killed.”

  “OK, I agree but if we can help him we’ll try.” Beth said.

  “We have to be careful and not use our lighters to start a fire or flashlights or anything from the twentieth century.” Jack said.

  By the time they had returned with the firewood, all but one horse was unloaded. They set down the firewood and started to find rocks to put around in a circle to make a fireplace. The sun was setting and it was getting dark.

  Curly Bob threw an iron pot at them and said, “One of you brats fill that with water.” He reached into a bag and pulled out a coffee pot and tossed it at them and said, “Fill that too and one of you go help Slim and Dirty Earl.”

  “Bert, you go to fill the pots.’ Sonny said, wanting to get his sister as far away from the men as possible. “I’ll go help unload. Jack you start the fire.”

  Jack stacked up the firewood and asked Curly Bob “Do you have a match mister?”

  Curly Bob was pulling out a bag of beans and a slab of bacon out of a sack He stopped and glared at Jack. He then reached in the sack that had held the coffee pot and pulled out a box of kitchen matches and threw them at Jack.

  Beth returned from the river about the same time that Jack had the fire started.

  The pack animals were unloaded and the horses hobbled and set out to graze.

  Slim took the beans and bacon that Curly Bob had set out and started to cook diner.

  They had set up camp next to the trees and Curly Bob and Dirty Earl drug the Indian over to two of the trees and tied him between them. He was on his knees suspended by his wrists. His head fell forward on his chest. They had pulled his arms as tightly as possible between the trees so that he looked like one of those Catholic crucifixes depicting Jesus on the cross.

  The men arranged some of the packs that they had taken off the packhorses around the fire to use as seats. They placed the packs about four feet from the fire in a rough U with Curly Bob sitting on the left side of the U, Dirty Earl at the top of the U and Slim on the Right side. Dirty Earl was across the fire from the Indian.

  The two boys sat side by side on a large stone about three feet to the left and rear of Slim. Sonny was sitting closest to Slim.

  Somehow Beth had ended up across the fire from the boys and to the left of Curly Bob. She started to cross in front of Curly Bob to join the boys when he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down on the pack next to him. “Sit here. You’ll be closer to the fire.” He leered at her.

  Her heart was racing but she didn’t say a thing.

  Sonny and Jack looked at each other but didn’t know what to do.

  There was a moment of silence then Slim and Dirty Earl looked at Curly and then at each other and smiled.

  Jack said, to break the silence, “Where is the nearest town?”

  Slim said, “That’d be Hard Luck. It’s about a two days ride down river. You might make it walkin’ in three.”

 
“Slim, you talk too much.” Curly Bob said.

  “What harm…”

  “Just shut up. Earl, go get us a bottle.”

  Earl got up and rummaged around in one of the packs and came back with two bottles. He gave one to Curly Bob and the other he kept for himself. He sat down, pulled out the cork, took a long pull and passed the bottle to Slim.

  Curly Bob took a drink and handed the bottle to Beth and said, “Drink.”

  “No sir, I don’t drink.”

  Curly Bob’s face turned red “Drink, damn you, drink. When I tell you to do something you had better damn sure do it.”

  Beth took a drink and started coughing and spitting. The other two men started laughing.

  Curl Bob grabbed the bottle away from Beth who was still coughing. He said “I might of known, just a waste of good whiskey on you, you little brat.”

  He then started drinking seriously. The other two were trying their best to keep up with him.

  He was beginning to get moody. He snarled at Slim “Check the beans.”

  Slim said, “They’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

  “How come they’re takin’ so long? Damn your skinny hide.” He growled as if it was Slim’s fault that the beans were taking so long to cook. He was working himself into a frenzy.

  Slim whined, “It ain’t my fault.”

  Curly Bob got to his feet and looked around. He saw the Indian, who up to this point, had been forgotten. He whipped out the knife on his belt and started towards the Indian and said, “I wonder how he’d look without them ears or a nose.”

  Beth in horror leapt to her feet and screamed “No!” and moved towards Curly Bob.

  His back was to her and he turned at the waist and brought his left hand around, back handing her across the face.

  The blow knocked Beth to the ground and her hat was knocked from her head. Her long blond hair spilled out.

  “Well looky here,” said Curly Bob with an evil grin. “Looks like we have our evening’s entertainment right here.”

  The other two men were on their feet. Dirty Earl had moved to his left a couple of paces closer to Curly Bob. All three men’s attention were on Beth.